Gospel Story Finder

The note was written on blue paper with zigzags drawn around the corners, so even though Jeremy handed it to her, Melanie knew the note was from Rachel. Melanie glanced around. Reading time was over, and her classmates were putting away their books.
Melanie knew how the note would start: “Dear Best Friend.” She smiled to herself. She and Rachel had been friends since second grade. “We’re still best friends, even though we’re very different,” Melanie thought as she unfolded the note.
Dear Best Friend,
Do you smoke?
—Rachel
Melanie was surprised. “Rachel and I are together all the time,” she thought. “Doesn’t she know I don’t smoke?”
She wrote on the bottom of the paper:
No. I think it’s gross. Why do you want to know?
—Melanie
Melanie handed the note back to Jeremy. Soon he passed it back again. Melanie read:
I snuck a pack of cigarettes from my aunt’s house. Do you want to try some with me after school?
—Rachel
Melanie stared at the note. Then she wrote:
Rachel! Why do you want to smoke? It’s bad for you! I know you like to try new things, but I don’t want to see you get hurt.
—Melanie
Rachel wrote back:
A few cigarettes aren’t going to hurt me. I might not even finish the whole pack.
—Rachel
Melanie felt like she was going to cry. She wrote:
You’re my friend, and I love you. Don’t smoke.
—Melanie
Melanie watched Rachel as she read the note. Now Rachel looked like she was going to cry. She held onto the note for a long time. Then she wrote back. When Melanie got the note, she read:
Thanks. I love you too. I won’t smoke the cigarettes.
Melanie was grateful she had chosen to be an example. She felt relieved that Rachel had made the right choice.

Vai Keodara didn’t even speak English until she was 11 years old, yet she was chosen as salutatorian and speaker for her class at Morse High in San Diego, California. Vai was born in Laos, forced to flee that country with her family, and lived in a Thai refugee camp for three and a half years before her family made it to the United States.

When she started school in California, she was in the lowest reading group in the fourth grade. For two years she struggled, but with hard work, she finally made it to the top of her class and skipped a grade. “I never made a goal to get straight A’s,” she said, “but I did make a goal to do my best.”

“My parents were always encouraging me, and I also give a lot of credit to the Church, for it inspired me to accomplish good things and to realize that knowledge is important in this life and in the life to come.”

Vai serves as chorister for sacrament meeting in the 22nd Branch of the San Diego California East Stake. For a Laurel project, she taught Laotian children to write and speak their parents’ native language so their culture could be preserved. She plans to study medicine in an effort to continue helping people throughout her life.

A few years ago my husband was laid off. His employers, apparently sorry for what they had done, offered him a different job, but it would require a difficult move. Nevertheless, we foresaw many blessings, including continued employment.
After moving, however, we discovered that the job was no longer available. No one had a reasonable explanation. The only thing we knew was that we were in a new place, out of work, and nearly out of money because we had paid our debts before moving and had spent the last of our savings in making the move.
My husband tried every way possible to find a full-time job. In the meantime he did minor jobs, and I did handicraft work, which provided us just enough to support ourselves after paying our tithes to the Lord. We were frugal in everything, but it was not easy paying school expenses, buying food and clothing, and finding money my husband needed to go out and look for work.
We wept much, but we never quit trusting that the Lord would bless us. And we gave thanks for the blessings we already had: daughters who were healthy and faithful, a united marriage, and supportive relatives and ward members.
Many friends who were not members of the Church asked us, “If you are in such need, why do you still pay tithing?” The answer was always the same: because the Lord has commanded it, and we do not want to rob God (see Malachi 3:8–9).
We always knew that if we were obedient, the Lord would bless us—perhaps not in the way we had hoped but certainly with what He considered best for our family. We never used our financial problems as an excuse to quit serving the Lord; in fact, our desire to serve Him increased.
Today my husband has a job that helps us make headway against the debts we acquired while he was out of work. It will still be a long time before we can relax financially, but we know that if we “bring … all the tithes into the storehouse,” God will open the windows of heaven “and pour [us] out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it” (Malachi 3:10).

Squirrel knew that winter was coming. Owl had said it was, Blue Jay and Deer had told him too. Even Chipmunk, his best friend, had reminded him as she busily gathered food for the winter.
“You’d better hide nuts for winter,” Blue Jay chirped.
“You can’t find food in the snow,” Deer said.
“Listen to your friends, Squirrel,” Chipmunk chattered, flicking her tail. “They’re right, you know.”
But it was only September, and for Squirrel, winter was a long way off. There would be plenty of time to gather food later. He had other things to do. He liked to have fun and to play tricks on his friends. He liked jumping from tree to tree and scaring Blue Jay. And whenever Deer was standing under a tree that Squirrel was playing in, Squirrel dropped nuts on him. When a nut hit him, Deer would bound away in fright—while Squirrel held his sides and chattered with glee!
But what he liked best was stealing a nut from Chipmunk. She would chase him around and around! Up and down the trees they’d go. Finally Squirrel would drop the nut and look for something else to do.
“Squirrel, you are being very foolish,” Owl scolded. “If you don’t store food, you will be very hungry this winter.”
Chipmunk warned him again too. “Store some nuts now,” she said. “Soon they’ll be covered with snow, and you won’t be able to find them.”
Squirrel didn’t like to have Chipmunk mad at him, so he took a few nuts to his pantry, just to please her. But he thought that work was no fun, so before long, he was off playing tricks again.
Time passed quickly. Then one morning when Squirrel poked his head out the door, a blanket of white greeted him. Snow? he thought. Already? The air was crisp and cold. A breeze blew a puff of snow off the branch above his door. Plop! It landed right on his head. “Yipe!” He jumped back inside. He shook his head. “Brrrr!”
Squirrel had to think about this. But thinking always made him hungry. He went to his pantry. Two or three nuts will help me to decide, he thought. Oh, oh! Squirrel stared at the little pile of nuts in the corner. He had always planned to gather food “tomorrow.” But “tomorrow” never seemed to come. “What shall I do?” he muttered.
He ate two of the nuts from the little pile and thought about it. “I’ll go see Chipmunk,” he said. “She’ll know what to do.” So away he went.
Squirrel raced along as fast as he could. At long last he came to Chipmunk’s burrow. He poked his head in. “Good morning,” he chattered. “May I come in?”
Chipmunk looked up from her breakfast. “Wipe your feet first,” she said, after swallowing a mouthful of acorn.
Squirrel wiped his feet, then came in and sat down.
“How do you like the snow, Squirrel?” she asked.
“It’s pretty, but it’s cold,” he answered. Hanging his head, he mumbled, “And it hides the nuts.”
Chipmunk shook her tail reproachfully, “We all tried to warn you that this would happen.”
“I know,” Squirrel said, watching his feet as he shifted from one to the other. “I was very foolish. But I won’t be anymore, I promise.” He looked up. “What can I do now, Chipmunk?” he said in a small voice.
Just then Blue Jay landed on the ground outside Chipmunk’s door. “Good morning, Chipmunk. Good morning, Squirrel,” he said in a cheery voice.
“Good morning, Blue Jay,” Chipmunk and Squirrel said together.
“How do you like this fine, snowy day?” Blue Jay asked, hopping about.
“I think the snow is very pretty,” Chipmunk chattered. “But Squirrel has a problem.”
“He does?” Blue Jay tipped his head and looked at Squirrel with shiny, black eyes.
“I was very foolish. I didn’t gather nuts when I should have,” Squirrel told him quietly. “Now the snow hides them, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Hmm.” Blue Jay ruffled his feathers. “That is a problem.”
“Squirrel has promised not to be foolish anymore,” Chipmunk told Blue Jay. “What can we do to help him?”
Blue Jay hopped about and looked around. He thought and thought. Then he said, “Wait here,” and flew away.
In a little while, he came back. Owl was with him, and so was Deer. Chipmunk and Squirrel came out to join them.
Owl was perched on a limb near Chipmunk’s burrow. The others gathered around him. “Blue Jay told me about your problem, Squirrel,” he said in a deep voice. “We will all try to help you, but first you must promise to never scare Blue Jay or Deer again, and to not tease Chipmunk when she is gathering food.”
“I promise,” Squirrel agreed earnestly. “I also promise that I’ll work hard next year to be ready for winter.”
“Good.” Owl turned to Blue Jay. “You can help Squirrel by knocking the last of the nuts from the highest branches. But”—he turned to look at Squirrel—“you must help Blue Jay get berries from under the bushes when he can no longer reach them.”
Squirrel nodded.
“I’ll help dig nuts out of the snow for you,” Deer offered.
“But when the snow gets too deep for Deer to find food,” Owl told Squirrel, “you must break off tender twigs that are high in the trees for him to eat.”
Squirrel nodded again. “I’ll do that too.”
“Chipmunk can help you carry the nuts to your tree,” Owl said.
“But next fall, Squirrel, you must help me carry nuts to my burrow,” Chipmunk told him.
Squirrel agreed happily.
And that is just what they did.

Going to the conference was easier for some than for others. “I thought I had better things to do,” said Jeff Foster of the First ward. But he decided to go anyway. By Saturday afternoon he had changed his tune. “My parents are going to say, ‘I told you so!’” Jeff says. “There are people who don’t want to go on missions because they don’t want to leave their stuff behind—like their jobs and their music or whatever—but it’s worth it!”

Although my mother was not a member of the Church, she was a very religious woman, and she had responded to the promptings she felt. When the war began, she had decided to build a bomb shelter not too far from our home in Indonesia. In it she had stored food, water, medicine, and clothing. These supplies had sustained us for eight months when we were not allowed to leave our property. She had also stored the family jewels in the bomb shelter, and before we were taken away to the concentration camp, my mother had told Baboe Kit to use the stored food to save her own family from the famine that was already rampant. But as soon as Nanny had found out where we were interned, she had carefully stuffed my doll with some of the jewelry and had walked the 192 kilometers to bring it to me.
The discovery of the jewels changed our lives. The proceeds from their sale first brought us warm clothing and furniture to make our lives more comfortable. Eventually they enabled us to obtain higher education. The training I received because of Pop Mientje’s treasures meant better employment and higher wages, both in Amsterdam and later in America.
The influence of Baboe Kit has remained with me throughout the years since my ninth birthday. For many years I felt guilty and had nightmares about her death—until one day I realized that Nanny had known she was risking her life.
She had been willing to die for me. And because of her sacrifice, those ninth-year birthday whispers that were once only dreams have become reality. Not only have I had birthdays with cakes and gifts and ice-cooled lemonade, but I have also fulfilled the destiny of which my mother spoke. I have had the opportunity to receive and accept the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and through the gospel I have come to a greater understanding about the kind of love shown me by Baboe Kit. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13.)

First, love for Christ. This concept proclaims Jesus as the object of our love, and our lives should be an external expression of our gratitude for him. Sometimes that is difficult to do. I once visited a high priests group meeting where an older brother taught us. He noted that “as a people we often pray, ‘We thank thee for all the blessings we enjoy.’ But what about the blessings we don’t enjoy? It can be very hard to be thankful for those.” This dear man had just experienced his first Christmas without his sweetheart in more than fifty years. It is difficult to be grateful to the Lord under circumstances we don’t enjoy.
Our beloved President Benson told some of his experiences with the Saints in war-torn countries and shared the following: “One sister walked over a thousand miles with four small children, leaving her home in Poland. She lost all four to starvation and the freezing conditions. Yet she stood before us in her emaciated condition, her clothing shredded, and her feet wrapped in burlap, and bore testimony of how blessed she was” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1980, pp. 47–48; or Ensign, Nov. 1980, p. 33). Things we don’t enjoy must not overshadow our reasons to maintain our love for the Savior. Otherwise we may lose our perspective or become bitter, and our love for Christ may be lost.
How deeply do we love him? Does our love depend on favorable environments? Is it diminished or strengthened by our experiences? Is our love for him evident by our behavior and our attitude? Charity, or love for Christ, sustains us in every need and influences us in every decision.
A second dimension of the meaning of charity is love from Christ. From a prophet of the Book of Mormon comes an inspired explanation. Speaking to the Lord, Moroni declared: “Thou hast said that thou hast loved the world, even unto the laying down of thy life for the world. …
“This love which thou hast had for the children of men is charity” (Ether 12:33–34).
Through his compliance with the severe requirements of the Atonement, the Savior offered the ultimate expression of love. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). And by permitting his Son to make such a selfless and suffering sacrifice, the Father provided us with an ultimate expression of his love as his gift to the rest of his children.
The Apostle John accurately testified of this infinite though conditional representation of the charity of the Gods when he wrote, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). This gift of charity is to be received. The Savior’s act of redemption for our sins is of no effect without our willingness to comply with the conditions of his atonement.
Speaking of the need for us to receive the divine love of God, Moroni prayerfully declared, “Except men shall have charity they cannot inherit that place which thou hast prepared in the mansions of thy Father” (Ether 12:34).
Some years ago I prepared to teach a class on a subject I felt would be particularly difficult. The night before the scheduled class, I prayed for guidance and then retired, still troubled in my mind. When I awoke, a certain thought was introduced to my mind that I shared with the class later that morning. After the class, a young man spoke with me privately and said, “The lesson was for me. I now know what I have to do.” Later, I learned that he had come to that class as his first contact with the Church in many years. He then proceeded to get his life in order and eventually served a faithful mission. Presently he is experiencing the happiness associated with keeping eternal family covenants. He possesses the gift of charity because he received the atoning love of Christ.
A third perception of charity is to possess a love that is like Christ. In other words, people are the object of Christlike love. Nephi said: “I have charity for my people. …
“I have charity for the Jew. …
“I also have charity for the Gentiles” (2 Ne. 33:7–9).
Since Nephi had such love for everyone, we wonder how he acquired it. He must have lived in anticipation of the divine directive that would later be proclaimed by the Savior as the key to the development of love: “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you.” (John 13:34; emphasis added).
Jesus’ love was inseparably connected to and resulted from his life of serving, sacrificing, and giving in behalf of others. We cannot develop Christlike love except by practicing the process prescribed by the Master.
The Apostle John was not only loved by the Lord, but he also loved others like the Lord. John affirmed the process by saying, “Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (1 Jn. 3:16).
Is it a coincidence that missionaries give a portion of their lives in behalf of others, then come home and testify of their great love for the people they have served? Is it any wonder that bishops and other priesthood and auxiliary leaders who sacrifice for others are filled with love for those who are recipients of their labors? Is there a greater love among mortals than that of a mother, who offers all for her child? Many who desire to have charity like Jesus attain it as he did.
On one occasion my wife expected to be away for the weekend and asked one of the sisters in our ward to teach her Relief Society lesson. The week following the session, that sister came to our home and returned the instruction manual. She also brought to my wife a freshly baked loaf of bread and a handwritten note that read, “I love you. You are a special person. Thank you for thinking of me.” She was grateful to have been asked to serve. She was full of the love of Christ.
Charity is not just a precept or a principle, nor is it just a word to describe actions or attitudes. Rather, it is an internal condition that must be developed and experienced in order to be understood. We are possessors of charity when it is a part of our nature. People who have charity have a love for the Savior, have received of his love, and love others as he does.
It may be of some significance to note that the word charity does not appear in a single verse in the Old Testament. Surely the prophets of ancient times understood the need for charity as did the Apostle Paul and the prophets of ancient America. And surely those prophets knew and taught that “charity is the pure love of Christ” (Moro. 7:47). We are left to wonder if the enemies of Christ deliberately removed from the holy writings these saving truths as part of the plain and precious teachings that Nephi prophetically said would be removed (see 1 Ne. 13:20–29). Also, charity is only partially explained in the New Testament. But thankfully the Book of Mormon, another witness for Christ, has restored to us an understanding of this eternal precept. I testify that as we abide by this precept, we will draw nearer to God. Indeed, we will become more like him.
Individually and collectively, we can experience the peace and happiness enjoyed for nearly two hundred years anciently when “there was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people” (4 Ne. 1:15). This I know, as I know the Savior lives, in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

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.

I glanced at the quarter in my hand and then eyed the 10-foot distance to the cement wall. The other kid’s quarter had landed about six inches from the wall. Another good shot. He’d already won my first quarter last round. Now I had to win it back—and hopefully win an additional quarter from him in the third round.
You see, I wanted a soda with my lunch. And sodas cost 75 cents, which was 25 cents more than I had left after buying lunch at our junior high school cafeteria. Hence the contest.
I tossed my last quarter as skillfully as I could. I hoped for a lucky bounce that would put it closer to the wall than my opponent’s, thereby making me the winner.
Nope. My fiendish coin hit the wall hard. I watched as it rolled back farther than my opponent’s. He smirked and scooped up the spoils.
“Better luck next time,” he said.
It would be an entire school year before it occurred to me that if I’d simply saved my change after lunch, I could’ve bought a soda two days out of every three. At the time, though, the idea of turning two quarters into three or more with no effort was too enticing. I lost a lot of quarters that year.

June 27 of this year marks the 150th anniversary of that solemn event when the first prophet of this dispensation sealed his testimony of the Restoration with his blood. I testify that he was a prophet of God. I have seen the Lord convert people to His plan of salvation through the testimony of the Prophet Joseph. Many years ago I served as the president of the Canadian Mission. In the city of Oshawa, Ontario, Canada, two of our missionaries were proselyting door-to-door on a cold, snowy afternoon. They had not had any measure of success. One was experienced, one was new.
The two called at the home of Mr. Elmer Pollard, and he, feeling sympathy for the almost frozen missionaries, invited them in. They presented their message and asked if he would join them in prayer. He agreed, on the provision that he could offer the prayer.
The prayer he offered astonished the missionaries. He said, “Heavenly Father, bless these two unfortunate, misguided missionaries, that they may return to their homes and not waste their time telling the people of Canada about a message which is so fantastic and about which they know so little.”
As they arose from their knees, Mr. Pollard asked the missionaries never to return to his home. As they left, he mockingly said to them, “You can’t tell me you really believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, anyway!” and he shut the door.
The missionaries had walked but a short distance when the junior companion said, “Elder, we didn’t answer Mr. Pollard.”
The senior companion said, “We’ve been evicted. Let’s move on to greener territory.”
The young missionary persisted, however, and the two returned to Mr. Pollard’s door. Mr. Pollard answered the knock and angrily said, “I thought I told you young men never to return!”
The junior companion then said, with all the courage he could muster, “Mr. Pollard, when we left your door, you said that we didn’t really believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I want to testify to you, Mr. Pollard, that I know Joseph Smith is a prophet of God; that by inspiration he translated the sacred record known as the Book of Mormon; that he did see God the Father and Jesus the Son.” The missionaries then departed the doorstep.
I heard this same Mr. Pollard, in a testimony meeting, state the experiences of that memorable day. He said: “That evening, sleep would not come. I tossed and turned. Over and over in my mind I heard the words, ‘Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. I know it … I know it … I know it.’ I could scarcely wait for morning to come. I telephoned the missionaries, using the address which was printed on the small card containing the Articles of Faith that they had left with me. They returned; and this time, with the correct spirit, my wife and family and I joined in the discussion as earnest seekers of truth. As a result, we have all embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ. We shall ever be grateful to the testimony of truth brought to us by courageous, humble missionaries.”

When I was Relief Society president for the Luton Ward, I encouraged the ward to collect clothes and other goods for asylum seekers and refugees. I took the goods to the county of Hertfordshire and gave them to refugees there. I started feeling a bit guilty about this, because I was taking donations from ward members into a different county when I knew that Luton itself had a massive population of refugees and asylum seekers that needed help.
I decided to find out who was working with asylum seekers and refugees in Luton so we could give them the goods the ward collected. I attended a National Churches Together meeting and asked. They told me that Care4Calais and another church or two, were helping. I contacted Care4Calais and I also found out how to apply to Churches Together in Luton. A week or so later, I heard back from Churches Together and they told me my application was rejected. I felt so upset. All I wanted to do was help whoever was helping asylum seekers and refugees. So, I phoned the director of Churches Together in Luton and explained to her how shocked and saddened I was. She relented and gave me the number of the Reverend of All Saints and St. Peter’s Church, the main church in Luton helping and supporting the large population of asylum seekers there.
I contacted Reverend David Kesterton and set up a meeting with him. We asked about his church and what they were doing to help, and how our church could multiply their efforts in the work they were already engaged in. At first, he was very hesitant, because he feared we would go in proselyting. We assured him we would not and he agreed to work with us.
We started meeting with the Reverend and put together a proposal to the church to secure some funding. All Saints was opening their doors to asylum seekers twice a week for drop-in sessions where an individual could get a cup of coffee and cake, needed clothing, as well as advice, ESOL support, someone to listen to them, or just an entertaining round of chess to break up the monotony that they feel. They had recently run out of funding. The Church agreed to give £15,000 to provide much needed warm clothing and toiletries as well as vouchers for underwear, school uniform and shoes. We were all thrilled.
To kick off the project, we invited the Reverend to come and speak in the Luton Ward during the second hour of a fifth Sunday meeting. He talked about the support he and his church were giving and how we could be of help. Members of the Luton Ward were encouraged to start volunteering at the drop-in sessions. The youth planned an activity to sort out their overflowing and disorganised toy cupboard, as well as purchasing needed toiletries from local supermarkets for asylum seekers. The Reverend was amazed to see all the youth there bringing toiletries, and even more amazed that the leaders had made purchasing toiletries a competition for the youth. One ward member even volunteered to be Father Christmas for their drop-in session right before the holidays.
We are now coming to the end of this lovely project. A wonderful relationship has developed between the Luton Ward and All Saints and St. Peter’s Church, and I think the Reverend has changed some of his old opinions of us as members of the Church and is more willing to work with us and see our commonalities. He has been very grateful for our help.

Permit me to share an experience which I believe illustrates further this edifying process.
A few years ago, some missionaries referred me to a lovely couple to whom they had been teaching the gospel. These people had been taught a number of lessons and had attended church on several occasions. But they were having some difficulty in recognizing a developing testimony.
After some silent praying, I was impressed to ask the husband, “Was prayer an important part of your life before you met the missionaries?”
“No,” he replied. “Until recently I seldom prayed.”
I then inquired, “Do you pray now?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “We pray all the time. We bless the food before each meal; we have family prayers; and I pray frequently about my work.”
I commended him for cultivating this habit and invited him to read with me this scripture: “For if ye would hearken unto the Spirit which teacheth a man to pray ye would know that ye must pray; for the evil spirit teacheth not a man to pray.” (2 Ne. 32:8.)
My friend quickly admitted that he had been listening to the right spirit.
I then asked the investigator about his knowledge of Christ’s teachings, and without hesitation he explained that before his contact with the missionaries his knowledge was very limited. He seemed eager, however, to let me know that the missionaries had taught him some significant things, including the plan of salvation. Once more, I invited him to read with me: “Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. … If ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding.” (Alma 32:28.)
It required little persuasion for my friend to acknowledge that the word was true and good, and that he had felt the Spirit of the Lord.
The third question I directed to his wife. It was: “What kind of companion and father was your husband prior to meeting the missionaries?”
Somewhat reluctantly she answered, “He could have been better—he had a tendency to take me for granted and to neglect the children.”
I expressed thanks for her honest answer and suggested that we read together the following: “But he that believeth these things which I have spoken, him will I visit with the manifestations of my Spirit. … For because of my Spirit he shall know that these things are true; for it persuadeth men to do good.” (Ether 4:11.)
She, too, was willing to testify that a new spirit had entered their home and that this same spirit had changed her husband’s life.
Finally, I spoke again to the man and asked about his faith in Christ. He confessed that before his meetings with the missionaries, his faith had wavered and that he had entertained serious doubts concerning the Savior. He pointed out that recently his faith had been strengthened because of the teachings and testimonies of the missionaries. I then requested that we read: “For behold, the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil; wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge; for everything which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God.” (Moro. 7:16.)
Our discussion concluded with an open acknowledgment by my investigator friends that a new and precious spirit had entered their lives. The influence of prayer, the expanded knowledge, the tendency toward goodness, and the rediscovered faith had given them a new perspective and a new purpose for living.
And, as the teacher in this case, I also benefited from the experience. My heart burned within me as I realized that the Spirit had assisted me in recalling relevant scriptures and had prompted me in determining what to say.

Cara put down her pencil and stared at the piece of paper on her desk. It was blank except for her name and a big eraser smudge. “What should I write?” she thought.
Across the aisle, her friend Lily was writing busily. Cara put her head down and rested it on her arm.
Cara really liked her new school. It was in a church building of another religion, and her new class was small enough that her teacher, Mrs. Schmidt, had time to help her with math. Every day after math, Mrs. Schmidt taught a lesson from the Bible. Usually the Bible lessons were a lot like what Cara had learned at home and in Primary.
But a few weeks ago during a lesson about baptism, Mrs. Schmidt had told the class that babies who died before they were baptized couldn’t go to heaven. Then she said that one of her own children died right after he was born. When she said that, Mrs. Schmidt looked like she was going to cry.
“But babies who die do go to heaven,” Cara wanted to say. If only Mrs. Schmidt knew that, maybe she wouldn’t be so sad anymore. But Cara felt too shy to say anything.
After school, Cara told Mom about what Mrs. Schmidt said. “Knowing that babies go to heaven is one of the blessings we have because of the Book of Mormon,” Mom said. Cara hoped that Mrs. Schmidt would read the Book of Mormon someday. She wished she had the courage to tell her about it.
Now in today’s lesson, Mrs. Schmidt had told the class that God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost are all one person. Cara thought about how Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. She knew that They were two separate people and that each had a body. She was glad she knew that for sure, even before talking to Mom or Dad about it.
But then Mrs. Schmidt had said, “Class, please take out a piece of paper and write about what we have been talking about.”
That’s when Cara got a worried feeling in her stomach. She wanted to do the assignment the way her teacher wanted her to. Could she be brave enough to write what she knew was true?
With her head down on her desk, Cara began to say a silent prayer. “Please, dear Heavenly Father, what should I do?”
Almost at once, Cara began to feel calm and peaceful inside. The Holy Ghost whispered that if she wrote what was in her heart, everything would be OK.
Cara lifted her head, picked up her pencil, and began to write.
Heavenly Father and Jesus are two separate people. They have bodies of flesh and bone like we do. The Holy Ghost is a Spirit who can speak to us in our hearts.
After writing a few more sentences, Cara put her pencil down. She didn’t know what Mrs. Schmidt would think of what she had written, but she felt happy that she had been able to tell her teacher something important and true.

Recently, two Latter-day Saint boys were walking along a street in a city they were visiting.
“Hey, Brother Schmidt,” called out one of the boys to a man who was coming down the sidewalk toward them. “What are you doing here?”
With obvious pleasure the two greeted each other. The other boy was introduced but wasn’t too much a part of their conversation. As he watched, it was obvious that these two persons really cared for each other. After a few minutes and a warm good-bye, the man went on his way.
The other boy asked, “Is he your bishop?”
“No,” said the first boy. “He’s my home teacher.”
Well, what about you and your home teacher? Do you really know each other? Do you know him? And if you don’t, whose fault is it—yours? his? both?
We all know that some people—and some home teachers—have a manner that lets people know that they really care. Other kinds of home teachers care but don’t show it so obviously. And still others care but don’t dare to let it show at all.
Now then, what about your side of the coin? All of us know down deep that unless we are willing, we can keep anyone from becoming our friend, from helping us.
Sadly, some youths refuse a home teacher entry into their lives by the subtle messages that they send saying “Stay out.”
You send that kind of message if you display no enthusiasm regarding your home teachers’ visits.
You send that kind of message if you see your home teachers at church or elsewhere and make no special effort to shake their hands.
You send that kind of message if you don’t ask their counsel on matters with which they could help—perhaps a church talk or an issue or problem that concerns you.
You send that kind of message if you don’t call upon them when a priesthood administration is needed and when assistance outside the family is needed.
You send that kind of message by doing or not doing many things that only you know about.
Unfortunately, people who leave home teachers out of their lives are ignoring one of the most important links in Church government. Your home teachers are the Lord’s agents to you—they represent the bishop as well as the Church.
Home teachers are called and set apart to bless and help members of the Church, and because of that, the Lord will cause them to be able to help. That’s the key point. You may not think that they can help, but if you’ll give them a chance, if you’ll let them come into your lives, you will not only be strengthening your own personal links with Church government, but you will also be strengthening your home teachers. And don’t you have a responsibility to do that?
If you don’t know who your home teachers are, ask your bishop or branch president immediately. Then put their names, addresses, and telephone numbers on your bulletin board and in your purse or wallet.
If you will let them, these two persons can bless your lives more than you’ve ever realized, and you will gain two real friends. And I have never met anyone who didn’t need two more real, genuine friends.

Priesthood volunteers from the Jacksonville Florida West Stake worked all weekend cleaning up a house which had been nearly submerged by the flood. The owner, a retired nonmember named Davis, was overwhelmed by the help provided. When the work was completed, the brethren asked Mr. Davis if they could bless his house. They gathered together, and the bishop pronounced a blessing on the home and on the family. Tears ran down Mr. Davis’s cheeks, and the Spirit was very strong. Each of the volunteers hugged him and told him how glad they were to have been of help. He said they had done more than they could ever know and that he didn’t know how to thank them enough.

From my infancy I had heard the Word of Wisdom stories about tea and coffee and tobacco, etc. Nearly every Sunday School day and Primary day we sang lustily, I with the other boys:
That the children may live long,
And be beautiful and strong,
Tea and coffee and tobacco they despise,
Drink no liquor, and they eat
But a very little meat;
They are seeking to be great and good and wise.
(Sing with Me, B-24)

We sang it time and time again until it became an established part of my vocabulary and my song themes, but more especially my life’s plan. Occasionally some respected speaker said he had never tasted the forbidden things we sang against and then I made up my mind. Never would I use these forbidden things the prophets preached against. That decision was firm and unalterable. I would not and did not deviate.

In 1937 my wife and I were touring in Europe. In France I sat at a banquet table of the Rotary International Convention in a fashionable hotel. The large, spacious banquet room held hundreds of people. The many waiters moved about the tables, and at every place besides plenteous silver, linen, and fancy serving dishes were seven wine glasses. No one was watching me. The temptation nudged me: Shall I drink it or at least sip it? No one who cares will know. Here was quite a temptation. Shall I or shall I not?

Then the thought came: But I made a firm resolution when a boy that I would never touch the forbidden things. I had already lived a third of a century firm and resolute. I would not break my record now.

Remember, O youth of a noble birthright, that “wickedness never was happiness.” The unrighteous may pretend to be happy and may seek to entice others into such a way of life because misery loves company, as you know, but you will never see a happy sinner. Even the discontent of good people is traceable to such shortcomings as they have.

A casual observer may feel that an unrighteous person “has it made,” and for a fleeting moment it may even seem so. But gross sin produces a deep emptiness. Thus the wicked seem to do more of the same in order to reassure themselves and to try to fill the void. When you see a life filled with desperation, there is transgression in it. We may pity such people, but it is wrong and naive to envy them!

Let me share one other example. A friend of mine went to school with a boy who did not have much home life and for whom the gospel did not mean as much as it later would. He drank a little and caroused a little; but later, after moving away from his home town, he became very active in the Church. His one dream was to return to his home town and start a business, which he tried to do. But unfortunately, as with the other man, the people in the community insisted on treating him as he had been, not as what he had become. He finally moved away and is doing remarkably well in business and in the Church. He recently expressed to my friend how deeply disappointed he was that his former friends and townspeople had not let him “come home,” even in a gospel sense.

Fear. That pretty much sums up what I felt as I shuffled my feet and tried to avoid the soul-searching gazes of my parents. They weren’t going to like what I had to tell them at all.
I had just returned home for Thanksgiving from my first semester of college. I was telling my parents about my college experiences and new friends. But what started as an enjoyable conversation quickly turned uncomfortable when my mom casually asked the question I had been dreading: “So, how are your grades?”
Frantically, my mind began to dig for lame excuses that might help me out of the mess I was in. How had I let my grades slip so far? I had arrived at college with every intention of studying hard and doing well. But then I discovered that for the first time in my life, no one was looking over my shoulder telling me what to do. Parents that were 400 miles away meant no curfew, no chores, and no rules. I took advantage of this newfound freedom and was quickly in the habit of staying up late at night with my roommates. My life was filled with late-night movies, late-night trips to get ice cream, and late-night talks and games with roommates.
After this late-night fun, I was in no mood to wake up for early-morning classes. When my alarm blared at 6:30 a.m., I would hit the trusty snooze button and burrow deeper under the covers. I missed class a lot, but what did it matter—college teachers didn’t take roll anyway.
All of this explained why I was now sitting in front of my parents, shuffling my feet and afraid to meet their gaze. Instead of asking for forgiveness like I should have, I chose to get angry. I looked my parents in the eyes and said defiantly: “My grades aren’t good right now. But I think it’s unfair of both of you to expect me to spend all of my time at college studying. Are you trying to keep me from having fun?”
My mom looked at me and said, “It was really hard for us when you left home, but we let you go because we knew you needed an education. It’s good to have fun, but you have to remember you are at college for a specific purpose. We have sacrificed a lot so that you can have this experience.”
“Sacrifices? What sacrifices have they given up so I can go to college?” I wondered. And then I remembered. They had agreed to pay half of my tuition. Checks from my mom always arrived in the nick of time to help me meet my monthly rent payment. They were willing to let me leave and go to a strange new place because they knew I would learn from it.
As I listed the sacrifices in my mind one by one, it suddenly hit me—I had been selfish. Not once as I stayed out late or skipped class had I thought about what my parents had given up. I had forgotten what was important, and I was wasting their sacrifice because I wasn’t making the most of my education.
For the first time, I realized just what they had done for me, and I knew I could only make the most of the things they had given up for me by working hard in school.
It wasn’t until later that day that I heard it: a still, small voice in my mind that asked a simple question, “Are you discarding the sacrifice that your Heavenly Father made in allowing His Son to suffer and die to atone for your sins, just as you have been discarding the sacrifice of your earthly parents?”
Suddenly, I remembered all of the days when I had forgotten my purpose on earth. The days when I fell into bed, too tired to say my prayers, and the mornings when I didn’t read my scriptures because I thought it was more important to look nice for school.
It dawned on me that I wasn’t living on earth just to entertain myself. I was here as part of Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness. The Savior’s sacrifice—the Atonement—was made so that you and I, and all of God’s children, could learn the lessons of earth life. Because of that sacrifice, we have the opportunity to repent and return to live with Heavenly Father again. I want to be able to say that I used my time on earth to learn and grow as He intended.

Then one day, about a year later, one of Olivio’s American teammates said, “Hey—you’re Mormon. Don’t Mormons go on missions? Are you going to quit the team and go too?”
That started Olivio thinking. “The things I learned made sense to me, and I said, ‘Well, if these things come from God. I have to explain them to other people.”
But leaving basketball—that would be tough. Olivio had just made the Portuguese national team, and his professional team had offered him a very lucrative contract—lots of money, a car, and a luxurious apartment.
“It was a difficult decision to leave basketball, so I decided to get my patriarchal blessing. There it said that I was going to serve the Lord, so I decided to do it. God prepared me to come here and find the gospel by giving me these talents to play basketball. I don’t have a problem leaving it to serve him. I think I can help many people.”
And now, Elder Olivio Gomes Manuel, who left northern Portugal almost two years ago to serve in southern Portugal, is helping many people. He’s well known throughout the mission for his good nature and easy smile, his hard work, and his gentle rapport with the people he towers over.

Before homes could be built, the Saints had to cut down the thickets and dig ditches to drain the swamps. Unfortunately, they were unaware of the dangerous disease the pesky mosquitoes were carrying. Many workers became ill with malaria. Before long, hundreds of people in Nauvoo and across the Mississippi River in Montrose, Iowa, were very ill. Many were dying.
For a time Joseph and Emma Smith nursed and cared for the sick, but then Joseph also became ill. For several days he lay overcome with the sickness. But on 22 July 1839, the Spirit of the Lord prompted Joseph to arise and help others. He obediently arose and began to administer to the sick staying in his house and to the people in the tent city surrounding his home. Then he went down to the river, where many more lay too sick to move.
Elder Heber C. Kimball and others then accompanied the Prophet across the river to Montrose, where they visited the homes of the sick and, using the power of the priesthood, healed them. When Joseph arrived at the home of Elijah Fordham, the man was unconscious and near death. Joseph took Brother Fordham’s hand and said, “Brother Fordham, do you not know me?” There was no response at first. Then Joseph repeated his question, and Elijah whispered, “Yes!”
Joseph said, “Have you not faith to be healed?”
Elijah answered, “I am afraid it is too late.”
Joseph asked next, “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ?”
“I do, Brother Joseph,” Elijah said. Then the Prophet Joseph said in a loud voice, “Elijah, I command you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to arise and be made whole!”
Elijah Fordham arose from his bed and was healed!
Wilford Woodruff said of the miraculous healing: “The words of the Prophet were not like the words of man, but like the voice of God. It seemed to me that the house shook from its foundation.”