Gospel Story Finder

Perhaps most important, my father taught me the answers to what are arguably the two most important questions in life.

I remember my father telling the story of a discussion a man once had with a law school student about his future plans. The conversation went something like this:

“Son, tell me about your plans after law school.”

“I hope to get a job with a good firm and start making some money,” the student replied.

“That sounds good. And then what?”

“Well, at some point I want to get married.”

“I hope you do, son. And then?”

“I want to get a nice house and start a family.”

“Of course, and then what?”

“Then I want to raise my kids in good schools and earn enough money for a second home.”

“Right. Right. What then?”

“I hope to be making enough money to slow down and take nice vacations with my wife and children.”

“And then?”

“Well, I guess I’d like to see my kids get married and start their own families. I hear having grandchildren is even better than having children.”

“Yes, it’s true. Then what?”

“I hope I’ll be healthy enough to enjoy my later years—maybe travel some with my wife and see the world. I want to pass along my money to my children so they can enjoy life as I have.”

“And then?”

The young student paused. “Well, I guess . . . I guess eventually I’ll die.”

“Yes, yes you will,” the man said. “And then what?”

This story chronicles the standard-issue American Dream. Who in this room doesn’t identify with some or most of this young man’s vision for his life?

“And then what?” How would you answer that question?

Some 350 years ago, French mathematician, physicist, and philosopher Blaise Pascal wrote these words: “There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing, but only by God, the Creator.” He then proposed the following: “Let us weigh the gain and loss in wagering that God is. Let us consider the two possibilities. If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Hesitate not, then, to wager that He is.”

So what could be wiser than admitting our life is not a self-made proposition? What could be wiser than making this eternal choice sooner rather than later? I’m so glad I answered that question as a young boy.

But once we’ve answered the “then what?” question, I would suggest we must answer the next most important question in life: “now what?” What do we do now, here on earth, to serve Jesus Christ and make a difference for eternity? Sadly, too many people have no idea.

Anyway, the first day of school Mrs. Dawson was a little disorganized and kept us a couple of minutes late in drama class. I grabbed my books and ran as soon as she let us out.

I raced into chemistry just as the bell rang, which earned me a dirty look from The Embalmer, but he didn’t say anything. He had just started to tell us about how often we would have labs when the door opened and in came Danny.

Mr. Palmer’s eyebrows knitted themselves together in the middle and he said, “Well, if it isn’t the ten o’clock scholar. You’ll have to do better than that if you want to pass this class.” And then he sort of laughed, like it was a big joke, but I didn’t see anything very funny about it. You could tell Danny didn’t either. He limped over to an empty desk and sat with his head down all through class.

We talked about it at lunch, and we couldn’t figure out how come the school board would let a guy with no more feelings than that teach school. Joe Nelson said that his dad said that the school board are a bunch of bozos, so we figured that must explain it.

I was excited! Spring was here, and I could play outside without a coat. Kindergarten was almost out for the summer, and I was getting ready to play ball and help Dad with the garden. But I forgot all about Mother’s Day. I didn’t remember until my Primary teacher reminded us the Sunday before. I knew then that I would have to have a secret meeting with Aaron and Jarom.
Aaron and Jarom are my two brothers. Aaron’s four, and Jarom’s only two, but he’s real smart. He can talk really good. In fact, he can do nearly everything Aaron and I can.
That night when we were in bed, I talked to Aaron and Jarom and told them that next Sunday was Mother’s Day and that we just had to get Mom a present. We knew Dad was going to give her something—he always does. But we wanted to give her a big surprise just from us.
We thought about giving Mom a motorcycle or a horse or a pickup truck. Those things would have made good presents, but we knew we couldn’t ever get anything like that till we were a lot older.
We finally decided that we would get all our money together and go to Brother Bob’s store to buy Mom something.
The next day after I came home from school, Aaron and Jarom and I walked to the store. We only had two dollars and three quarters and a dime and four pennies. It wasn’t very much, but we thought we could get Mom something she’d like.
Well, there really wasn’t much in Brother Bob’s store for Mother’s Day, because he sells mostly food and things like that. We looked at the bubble gum, but Mom doesn’t like bubble gum very much. We looked at some boxes of candy because Dad sometimes buys it for her. She likes candy, but just one of those boxes of chocolates with a big bow on it costs lots more money than we had. There was a real good pocketknife inside a glass case, but it cost over ten dollars. There was a watch inside the case too. It was just a little one, not like the big one Dad wears. We figured that since it was such a little watch, we probably had enough money to buy it. But when we put our money on the counter, Brother Bob said we didn’t have quite enough.
We were going to go to the big store by the ice-cream place, but that was a long way away. You have to cross the highway to get there, so we decided not to go. Instead, we each bought a sucker and went home.
On the way home we decided that if we couldn’t buy something for Mom, we’d make something. I remembered that Mom once said she’d sure like a rocking chair to rock Jared in at night. An old rocking chair wouldn’t be very hard to make. We had wood and nails and tools and everything at home.
Every day after school Aaron and Jarom met me at the corner. Then we ran around to the backyard and worked on the rocking chair. Jarom didn’t work much; he just kind of watched us. He’d get tired and go into the house for his blanket, but he always came back and sat on a box and rubbed his blanket and sucked his thumb. We still liked to have him there because it was his present too.
We had a hard time trying to build Mom that rocking chair though. We’d seen Dad hammer and saw, but he had bigger muscles than Aaron and I. I scratched my hand with the saw, and Aaron got silvers in his hands trying to hold the boards still. And I hit my thumb, trying to hammer in a nail.
We worked every day till Saturday, but by Saturday we still didn’t have a rocking chair. We’d hammered some boards together, but they were rough and had crooked nails sticking out of them. It didn’t look like any rocking chair we’d ever seen. It looked more like a table. But Mom didn’t need a table; she needed a rocking chair.
It was hot. Jarom had his blanket and was lying down on a box, sucking his thumb and looking at our rocking chair. I was thinking, and Aaron was over by the grapevine hunting for something. Pretty soon he yelled, “Hey, Alma, come here! Look what I found!”
I threw my hammer down, and Jarom left his blanket and ran over to the grapevine with me. Under the branches, sitting on some crunchy leaves, was a big, fat horned toad. He was brown and had little bumps all over him.
I’d seen horned toads before, because Aaron likes to catch them. But this one was one of the best horned toads I’d ever seen. Aaron picked it up and tickled its tummy and rubbed it against his cheek so he could feel the bumps.
Aaron said, “I know, Alma! Let’s give Mom some horned toads! She said that she thinks they’re cute and that they’re funny to watch when they run. Let’s look for some more, and we’ll each give her a horned toad for Mother’s Day.”
There’s an empty lot behind our house that’s covered with weeds and rocks and other good places for horned toads to hide. Jarom went there with us, too, but he had to leave his blanket behind, because it would get weed stickers in it.
We hunted for a long time, and finally we found another horned toad. It was almost suppertime. We were about ready to give Mom just two horned toads, when suddenly Jarom saw a tiny one. I grabbed it. Now we each had a horned toad to give to Mom.
When we went into the house, we didn’t let anyone see the toads. I found an empty shoe box and put some rocks inside so the horned toads would think they were still outside. Then we wrapped the box in newspaper and punched some holes in the top very carefully.
The next day, after the family came home from church and Primary, Mom started fixing dinner. After my brothers and I helped her set the table, we went out to the garage and brought in our present. I put the box on Mom’s plate so she’d know we hadn’t forgotten about Mother’s Day. Aaron and Jarom and I were grinning as Mom tried to guess what was in the present. She was going to shake it, but we told her she’d better not because it might break. She kept trying to guess, but she couldn’t. Not even Dad could guess what our present was.
After family prayer and the blessing on the food, I told Mom to open our present. I knew we couldn’t eat until Mom had opened it.
She took the paper off really slow, and then she took the lid off the shoe box. Her eyes got really big, but she didn’t say anything, and we weren’t sure if she liked our horned toads. We didn’t know if she thought they were too little or not the right color. But then she got a great big smile on her face, and she looked at Aaron and Jarom and me. Her eyes were sparkling like they do sometimes when she’s real happy. We knew then that she was glad to get those three horned toads.
She got up and gave us each a great big kiss and said, “I’ll never forget this Mother’s Day. Horned toads are the best Mother’s Day surprise I’ve ever received!”
After we’d all had a good look at the horned toads, Dad said we should take them out to the garage for a while. But Mom said it would be OK to put them on the chair by the telephone if we wouldn’t bother them while we ate.
After dinner, Mom looked at her horned toads and said, “I don’t like to see toads closed up in an old shoe box. Why don’t you boys build them a house outside where they won’t feel sad and where we can go to visit them.”
The next day after kindergarten, Aaron and Jarom and I went out in the backyard by the grapevine. We’d seen lots of horned toads there, so we knew that that was one of their favorite spots. We found a shady place where there were lots of crunchy leaves. We got some rocks and put them in a little pile under the grapevines, and that was Mom’s horned-toad house. The horned toads really liked it. As soon as we let them out of the shoe box, they waddled as fast as they could into their little rock house.
Those horned toads were our very best Mother’s Day present. And Mom said one of her favorite times of the day was when she went out to the grapevine with Aaron and Jarom and me and watched her very own horned toads.

I went through a period when I had been involved in some bad things that I knew required a confession to the bishop. I was very fearful of going through with what I new was right. Instead of just confessing, I quit going to church because I didn’t feel comfortable there. I quit praying because I felt unworthy. I got involved in other more serious activities that would also require a confession.
Please believe that no matter what you have done, no matter how scared you are of going to the bishop, living with it by yourself is a lot worse than confessing. My bishop told me that nothing could make my Heavenly Father change the way he feels about me. No matter how terrible the act, he will always love the person.
Actions taken by the bishop are for your benefit. Being asked to not partake of the sacrament or go through a period of probation might seem stringent, but it will be most beneficial to you if you accept it as something that will be helpful.
Please don’t live with your secret alone. Go talk to the bishop. He is your friend.
Name withheld

A few years ago my family and I took a vacation from our home in Arizona to the Midwest. We drove through many states, including Kansas, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Illinois.
Our vacation was going very well, and we were learning to enjoy each other’s company during the long van rides from place to place.
One evening we pulled into a fast-food restaurant in Missouri, all anxious to grab a bite to eat. As we got out of our van, I suddenly had a silent but powerful impression that I should look at the back tire on our van. I started to walk toward the restaurant, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I looked back over my shoulder and then stopped. Again the impression came to my mind: “Check the back tire.” It was so forceful I couldn’t ignore it.
As I approached the rear of the van, I heard a hissing sound. Sure enough, our right rear tire had a leak and was quickly going flat. I ran to get my dad, who had already gone in with the rest of the family.
My father took the van to a gas station down the road before the tire went completely flat. Since the tire wasn’t damaged, the repair was inexpensive and quick. We were able to have the flat fixed just minutes before the service station closed for the night. I don’t know what would have happened if I had ignored the prompting. But I do know that because I responded, we were able to continue our trip safely and conveniently.
Ever since that incident, I’ve always felt reassured of the power of the Holy Ghost and how truly blessed we are as members of the Church to have that special line of communication. I am grateful for that experience, for it will stay with me, forever reminding me that our Father in Heaven loves, cares about, and watches out for all of His children.

Years ago Elder Gene R. Cook of the Seventy presided at our stake conference when I was stake president. In the Saturday adult session, he challenged everyone to prayerfully select someone who would not normally attend stake conference and invite them to come to stake conference the following day. He then asked for a raise of hands as a commitment and counseled the congregation to pray themselves through the experience. Then he said something I will always remember: “We should learn to pray ourselves through each day.” This has had a lasting impact on me.
Elder Cook also turned to me and asked me to prayerfully select someone whom I could bring to stake conference the following day. I would like to share that experience, with permission from the individual involved. As you can imagine, I immediately started to pray myself through that experience. During the process, the name of one of our neighbors came into my mind. She had been through some challenges, so I thought this would be a good time to challenge her. Elder Cook and I walked across the street, and I asked her if we could visit.
“President,” she said, “do you know how many people have already been here?”
“No,” I replied.
“Five!” she said, holding up her hand with outstretched fingers.
I remember thinking, “Well, so much for my inspiration!”
Elder Cook didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed me by the arm, pulled me in close, and said, “Ask her if we can talk to her.” I did, and she invited us downstairs.
As we descended the stairs, Elder Cook turned to me and asked, “Are you praying yourself through this?”
I thought to myself, “What do you think?”
When we were settled on the couch, he started to talk to her, looking her in the eye. He asked her what her maiden name was, and she told him. He then said, calling her by name, “I know your parents really well. Are you from . . . ?” and he named the location.
“Yes,” she said.
“I know your dad. He’s a stake president.”
“Yes,” she said.
Elder Cook then proceeded to chasten her firmly, calling her by name again and saying, “You know better.”
Tears flowed, and soon commitments followed. At the beginning of that experience I thought I had made a mistake, but the Spirit had guided us there, and by praying through that experience, doors and hearts were opened.

In the wake of his parents’ deaths, his older sisters chipped in and sent him on study abroad to the Brigham Young University Jerusalem Center. There, he met Kaye Davis.
The two became good friends as their group camped in the Sinai desert, worked in banana fields, and studied the Old and New Testaments together.
After returning to Provo, Utah, they began dating. They married in the Salt Lake Temple in December 1985. They have eight children.

If you routinely traveled through Weber Canyon in northern Utah between the hours of 8:00 A.M. and 10:00 A.M., you probably saw him. He rode an old rickety bicycle with a box of aluminum cans on each side of the back tires. At age sixty-five, he had ridden this same bike from his home in Tennessee to Utah. Then, for reasons known only to him, he had made a canyon cave his home.*
Everyone in Morgan County knew of him. They had either seen him riding his bike through the canyon or had noticed the bike parked at a local convenience store early in the morning. He had become a part of the community. People would visit him from time to time in his cave, but he told them very little about himself. He was a sad sort of man.
Many people were afraid of him, including four-year-old Amy Creager. She had seen the man on many occasions and wondered about him. One day, about six weeks before Christmas, as she, her baby sister, Sydney, and her mother left the convenience store, Amy saw him. As they waited to turn onto the road, she said, “Mama, tell me about that man. Where does he live? And why does he have all those cans on his bike?”
Amy’s mother told her that the man lived in a cave in the canyon and that each morning he went around to dumpsters in the town to sort out the cans, load them onto his bike, and take them through the canyon into Ogden to turn them in for money.
As her mother told her what she knew about the man, a worried look came over Amy’s face. Her mother told her of the different names people used to refer to him, such as “the can man” and “the hermit.” But from that day forward, Amy and her mother began to call him simply “the man on the bike.”
With her voice trembling, Amy said, “It’s too cold to sleep outside. Why does he want to live in a cave?”
Trying to explain it simply, her mother said, “He probably doesn’t have enough money to live anywhere else.”
Amy and her family had just built a home the year before, so the solution seemed simple: “Why can’t Daddy build him a new home?”
“Well, we don’t have enough money, and Daddy doesn’t really know how.”
“The men who built our home can do it!”
“Well, it’s not that simple, Amy.” Mother tried to explain why that could not happen.
With tears welling up in her eyes, Amy sat silent for a few seconds, then said, “He can come and live with us! I am afraid of him, but he can have my room! I just won’t look at him.”
Tears came into her mother’s eyes as well. She could tell that Amy was determined to help the man somehow.
They finally reached Grandmother’s house, where Amy and Sydney would stay while their mother went to help their father at his shop. Reaching the shop, Amy’s mother told her husband about the events of the morning. The story touched him.
“We need to figure out a way for her to help him,” Amy’s father said. He thought for a while. “Since we can’t build him a home, let’s get him a new bike! I know a guy who owns a bike shop. I’ll call him, and he can tell us which would be the best bicycle for the man’s needs.”
Amy’s parents were both so excited about the idea that they stopped working and made the call. Her father told the bicycle shop owner the story. They decided that the man needed a sturdy mountain bike. After working out a few other details, they felt that Amy needed to decide the rest.
When Amy’s mother went to pick up her and her sister, she told Amy about their idea.
Amy’s face lit up. “Let’s get him a horn so that he can honk back at the cars! And let’s make sure the bike has two big baskets on the back for his cans! And, Mama, it has to be purple! Purple is everyone’s favorite color!”
As the days went by and Christmas drew nearer, Amy’s excitement about the bike grew. She could hardly wait to go and pick it out. She did many chores around the house to earn money to help pay for it. Whenever she saw the man riding his old bike in the canyon, she’d say, “He is going to love his Christmas present! How many more days, Mom?”
One night her mother went to Relief Society Homemaking meeting. Each sister was invited to tell of her most memorable Christmas. When it was time for Amy’s mother to tell of hers, tears filled her eyes. She said that she thought this Christmas was going to be one of her most memorable. She told them of Amy’s love for a stranger of whom she was afraid. She told the sisters of their plans to purchase the bike, and they were touched. After the meeting, many of the sisters asked Amy’s mother if they could be part of this Christmas memory. One sister wanted to make the man a quilt and a pillow. Another thought it would be nice for him to have some new, warm shirts. And the offers for contributions kept coming.
The next morning, Amy’s mother had a phone call from a sister in the ward who worked at a local business. The company employed many in the community. She had mentioned Amy’s desire to help the “can man” to some of the employees. They had all seen him because their place of work was his first stop every morning. He’d pick up the cans that they had gathered in a garbage bag for him. She wanted to know, on behalf of the employees she had spoken to, if it would be all right with Amy if they took up a donation to help with the cost of the bike. It was.
As the days went by, the word began to spread. More things were donated, including food and more clothing. It was exciting to watch the community rally together to help a four-year-old girl serve a sixty-five-year-old man.
About two weeks before Christmas, the “man on the bike” was invited to have dinner with a family who lived in the area. He told them it was time for him to move on. He was beginning to feel that he was an embarrassment to the people there. The family tried to tell him differently, but he had made up his mind. Amy heard of his plans and worried that she wouldn’t get the bike to him on time.
The day to buy the bike finally arrived. When she and her father reached the store and walked in, Amy looked around. Her eyes fixed on one bike.
“This is it, Dad! I want this one!”
“It is a mountain bike,” the store owner said.
It wasn’t purple, but it was the brightest blue you could imagine, with even brighter splashes of pink paint all over it! Amy loved it, and that was all that mattered. With the money that had been donated and what Amy had earned, she was able to pay for the bike and buy the largest baskets and the very best horn.
That night as Amy was tying a bow onto the bike, she said to her father once again, “Daddy, I really don’t want the man on the bike to see me.”
Her parents talked it over and asked the sheriff for his help in delivering the collected items and the bike to the “‘man on the bike.’ We understand he goes into the convenience store every morning. Do you think you could try to catch up with him there tomorrow?” Amy’s father asked.
The sheriff agreed, so Amy and her parents took everything over to his house and loaded it into his truck.
“I’m proud of you, Amy,” the sheriff said. “This is a very kind thing you are doing for a stranger.”
The next morning, the sheriff drove to the convenience store, and the man was there. The sheriff went in, walked right up to the man, and said, “You need to come with me.” The “man on the bike” thought that he was in trouble. They walked together out the door. Then the sheriff began to unload his truck, and the man stood there in silence, looking very bewildered.
“This is all for you!” the sheriff told him.
When the sheriff lifted the bike out, the man just stared at it. Then the tears began to fall. “Whose idea was this?”
“A four-year-old girl who is worried about you,” the sheriff said, his own eyes filling with tears. He explained to the man how it had all come about and how the whole community had wanted to help Amy help him.
The man was overwhelmed by this act of love. He said, “I don’t deserve all of this! You need to give these things to someone who really needs them!”
“I think you are plenty deserving. I’ll help you take them over to your cave.”
“Will you tell her thank you for me?”
The sheriff quietly nodded.
The man ended up staying in the area until May of the following year. Every time the people of Morgan County saw “the man on the bike,” they were reminded of the Christlike love of a child.

“Clinicians, academicians, and politicians are often put to a test of faith. In pursuit of their goals, will their religion show or will it be hidden? Are they tied back to God or to man?
“I had such a test decades ago when one of my medical faculty colleagues chastised me for failing to separate my professional knowledge from my religious convictions. He demanded that I not combine the two. How could I do that? Truth is truth! It is not divisible, and any part of it cannot be set aside.
“Whether truth emerges from a scientific laboratory or through revelation, all truth emanates from God. All truth is part of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Yet I was being asked to hide my faith. I did not comply with my colleague’s request. I let my faith show!
“In all professional endeavors, rigorous standards of accuracy are required. Scholars cherish their freedom of expression. But full freedom cannot be experienced if part of one’s knowledge is ruled ‘out-of-bounds’ by edicts of men.”

While still living at home, Beatrix began sending illustrated letters to Noel, the son of a former governess. He read the letters with such delight that Beatrix decided to make a book. She lengthened the Peter Rabbit story and submitted it to Frederick Warne & Co., a London publisher. Although it was rejected, Miss Potter had faith in her rabbit story. She felt so strongly that children would like it that she had it published privately. The book sold quickly for one shilling and twopence a copy. During the next eighty years, over twenty million copies were sold!
The Tale of Peter Rabbit has been translated into thirteen languages. Sightless children can also enjoy the book in Braille.

For example, I have a hard time asking the golden questions. I’ll ask them, but my way. I travel a lot, so my neighbor is everybody out there. I carry with me in my pocket as I travel this little tube of ozium. Ozium is an air freshener. I love it. You know, if you travel from here to Arizona to give a talk before some delightful young people, you get off the plane smelling as if you’d dealt the last hand of a poker game. The kids don’t always understand. So when I get off the plane, I just spray myself and then I’m sweet and wholesome and ready to do Church work.

Well, I have learned that clearing the air on a plane is a great way to start a conversation. Stewardesses are intrigued by it. People who sit next to me want to know what I’m doing. I just say, “I’m just clearing the smoke out.” That gets me talking about the Word of Wisdom. You know, I have become so proficient with this particular tube of ozium that I can put a cigarette out at ten feet.

I can’t resist telling you about one little experience. I was traveling back from somewhere to Salt Lake City, and it was a particularly heavily smoke-filled flight. My lungs had taken about all they could handle. I’m a fighter at heart, and I hope I do this in a Christian, Latter-day Saint way, so I took out my ozium and sprayed the culprit sitting in front of me. His air jet was fixed so that every time he would exhale I got it. I thought, “Well, it’s really self-defense rather than a missionary effort at this point.” I shot a spray over his head, and after about the third spray the mist settled on him. He got a little concerned, and I don’t blame him. He got up, turned around, and said, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I’m trying to nullify what you’re doing to me.”

“What am I doing?”

I said, “I’m sure it’s not intentional, but I seem to be getting the ill effects of your habit, and it’s not comfortable.” Then I got bold. I said, “I’m surprised that a man with your intelligence would smoke in the first place.”

He got a little defensive. “Well, the medical reports aren’t that conclusive.”

I said, “I have a medical report in my briefcase that’s very conclusive. Would you like to read it?” He said he would, and I said, “Can I sit with you?” So we got up and changed seats with a couple of people. I sat down and took out the Doctrine and Covenants, and I turned to—guess what section? I read him parts of the 89th section. He couldn’t have handled all of it. But I did read him what the Lord said about tobacco—that it was not good for man but for sick cattle. Then I read him the promise at the end. I turned to him, closed the book, and said, “Now, sir, I have just read you the truth, and you know it, don’t you?”

His head went back, and he said, “I believe I do.”

I said, “Would you be offended if I found out where you lived?”

“No.” He lived in Minnesota.

I took his name and address and said, “You’d like to know a little more about this, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

So I sent a referral to a mission president in Minnesota. Have you ever heard of that in the Church? And I was pleased to learn some three or four weeks later that he’d been baptized.

Linda Bradshaw, living in the West Midlands, has applied creative fingers to the money problem. She has developed a handmade jewellery business, selling to local tourist attractions.

“We have little spare time for out-of-school jobs, even if they are available,” she says. “Homework is heaped on us at every opportunity. We have to study hard to pass our O and A level exams. Jobs and university places are scarce. We need good results to get anywhere. I’ve learnt to manage my time and can fit in jewellery making early morning or other odd hours.”

Our present-day prophet, Spencer W. Kimball, has a great love for all the children of the Church. AFriend reader wrote to share with you an experience that expresses our prophet’s love.
“My name is Margo Busch, I am seven years old and live in San Antonio, Texas. I have three sisters and one brother. Something very special happened to our family. When we were on a 747 jet flying from Salt Lake City to Augsburg, Germany, we saw the prophet on the plane. We wanted to talk to him, but the stewardess wouldn’t let us. We were sad because we really wanted to meet him. So my sisters and I drew some pictures and the stewardess took them to him, and he answered by writing back to us on the pictures. When the plane landed, we were the last ones to leave. As we got off the plane the prophet was there waiting for us to shake our hands. Spencer W. Kimball really loves children very much and everyone in our family loves him too.”

I remember being at this critical juncture myself. Soon after returning from a mission to the Philippines, I found myself being lost, not knowing what paths I should take educationally and personally. I had just entered my freshman year of college. I was going through some challenging times, wondering if I could make the correct decisions. I remember thinking nobody liked me and feeling lost, not knowing what I should major in or how to help my emotionally and physically struggling family. I felt that things were not working out for me. I remember attending a fireside in the BYU Marriot center. Elder Richard G. Scott was speaking on “Making the Right Choices.” [1] In fact, here is a picture of the “lost” me during his address.
I remember leaving knowing that the words of Elder Scott were true. He helped me gain the confidence that I could do hard things. This experience began teaching me the importance and pathways to receive personal revelation in the decision-making process.

Seventh, we must live our religion. We must each consistently live our religion so that other people will recognize what we stand for. Many years ago now, when I served in the armed forces, I think I never had a close non-Mormon companion who didn’t know that I was a member of the Church and who didn’t know I had been a missionary. They treated me with the utmost respect and admired my standards. I don’t believe that I ever gave my companions cause to think less of the Church in all those years that I served with them.
One of those companions joined the Church. I didn’t preach a word to him about the gospel. Somebody else found him and taught him, but I suppose he remembered a young fellow named Bangerter who was a Mormon and remembered the way I had lived. I hope so.

What of marriage responsibility? Are there some who delay marriage for fear of the responsibility? When my wife and I were married, we had the magnificent sum of 20 English pounds between us. Although young, we felt ready for the challenges and responsibilities that we knew lay ahead. What a glorious experience it has been now for almost 40 years to shoulder responsibility and struggle together in building a happy home and a wonderful family of ten precious children.

Branch members’ cars slowly follow each other convoy-style down farm lanes past stubble fields toward the beach cliffs. It is a cold Canadian Thanksgiving day, but that isn’t unusual for Prince Edward Island. In a few months occasional Greenland icebergs will further chill the air and water as they lie grounded offshore waiting to melt free.
Everyone scurries to the protection of the cliffs above the beach, and once they are out of the wind, families gather together and wait for the service to begin.
Every family in the Summerside Branch turns out for the baptism of John Simon and Mary Pearl Keeping. It isn’t long before the field looks like a parking lot. Even 90 miles isn’t too much of a drive when you can welcome a new family into the Church.
Brother and Sister Keeping carefully make their way down the rocky cliff to the beach below. They want to be baptized in the sea on this Thanksgiving day.
Occasionally lobster traps break loose and are washed ashore. One such trap is used for a music stand and another one serves as a chair during the confirmation service.
Everyone, including the children, feels a special spirit as the group sings and prays together in a short service before the baptism.
The water is shallow, and it takes several minutes of walking through breakers before the baptismal party reaches water deep enough. The Keepings say they do not notice the cold of the air or the water. After they are baptized, friends lovingly wrap them in warm blankets before they are confirmed members of the Church.

Earlier this year, I had a precious experience that opened my eyes to His simple yet tender mercies. I was having a hard day. I stopped the project I was working on and said a little prayer at my desk. As I ended the prayer, a thought entered my mind: “This is a chocolate kind of day!” Taking this as direct, personal revelation, I stepped away from my office and headed to the Wilkinson Center to buy some chocolate.

It was a beautiful day, and the quad was filled with students sitting on the grass and eating lunch, talking, studying, and enjoying the nice weather. But there was one student who caught my attention. Sitting on the grass, she took a bite of her sandwich while giant tears streamed down her cheeks. I didn’t know the burden she carried, but I felt God’s love for one of His children. I thought, “Yep, this is definitely a chocolate kind of day!”

I walked into the BYU Store and purchased two Dove chocolate bars with the intention of sharing one with the student I had seen crying. I started to walk in the direction where she sat on the grass, but doubt quickly entered my mind: “What if I embarrass her?” and “What am I even going to say?” The Spirit nudged me on, and as I extended my hand to offer her the chocolate, the thought—as clear as someone talking to me—entered my mind: “God sees you!” I shared this message with her.

As I walked away, I saw that she still had a tear running down her cheek, but she had a smile too—and so did I!

So, to the student I saw on the grass and to every one of you, I testify that you are a child of God. He sees you and loves you enough even to send someone for chocolate.

My beloved brothers and sisters, for several years and with the deepest feelings I have thought about what I would like to talk to you about this morning. The prophet Mormon tells us that “by the power of [the Lord’s] word did they cause prisons to tumble” (Morm. 8:24). In recent weeks, I have reread the stories of Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo’s brilliant novel Les Miserables and of Bob Merrick in the novel Magnificent Obsession by Lloyd C. Douglas. These two stories, though widely different in time, circumstances, and affluence, have touched my heart in many ways.
I have agonized as I have thought about the ordeal of Jean Valjean—the nineteen years in prison and the things done to him for the small transgression of stealing a loaf of bread to feed a starving family. He suffered so many indignities, even after he was finally released from the physical prison.
Some of the same feelings flood my mind as I reflect upon the self-inflicted sufferings of Bob Merrick. The life of a prominent surgeon was lost and the sight of another because of Bob Merrick’s wayward activities, selfishness, ego, and disdain for others. He suffered in a prison of his own making.
Yes, I realize these masterfully crafted episodes are fictional, but they cause me to think about the various types of prisons Satan leads us into building for ourselves and others, or that others build for us.
Haven’t we all been delivered from various forms of captivity? How did you feel when the doors were opened to your personal prison? How was it to feel free? How wonderful it is to be liberated from any kind of a prison.
I remember how I felt forty-one years ago when I was taken from a train in Europe at 2:00 a.m. by two soldiers of a hostile nation and held against my will. I was verbally and physically abused. I felt I would never see my family or my country again. I assure you that while I was held captive, the blood coursed through my veins like adrenaline. Though the captivity lasted less than a day, it seemed like an eternity. And when I was put on another train and sent back to safety, my gratitude to the Lord knew no bounds. I was free! As I talked to the train conductor, I learned that hundreds had not been so lucky.
I then was led to think of Him who really delivers us from various types of prisons into forgiveness, a newness of life, of spirit, of change, and of opportunity, and how the souls of men find such relief, fulfillment, and safety when this occurs. I thought of the Son of God and His greatest freewill offering to each of us, given at the expense of His own life and under excruciating pain. I thought of how our Father in Heaven loves each one of us. And though we sometimes walk into prisons of our own making, He is there with keys to unlock the doors that bind us. I thought of those who help along the way, who share in turning those keys which deliver others, and who care so deeply sometimes that they rebuild the trust of others—like the two men of God in the novels helped to free Jean Valjean and Bob Merrick from their prisons into magnificent new freedoms promised by the Lord.
As difficult as a physical captivity or prison is, there are other captivities or prisons even more devastating. They are very subtle and take various forms in life, like (1) taking advantage of another; (2) bearing false witness to get gain; (3) knowing things to be true and not defending them; (4) stealing the morality of another; (5) destroying the innocence of a little child; (6) being captive to alcohol or drugs; or (7) financially digging a pit for another, causing hardship and destroying his ability to take care of his needs and so on. There are many prisons which come from our sins or the sins of others “according to the captivity and power of the devil” (2 Ne. 2:27), who leads us away.
Let me take an example to illustrate the point of these prisons. The prophet Job counseled us not to “dig a pit for your friend” (Job 6:27). I understand that could mean a business associate, a neighbor, a member of the Church. How could this happen?
Several years ago, a great young man had a thriving business. He had worked long, hard hours for many years to develop the skills, reputation, and expertise necessary to build his business and provide for the needs of his young family. He loved his work, and every morning he anxiously began each new project with creativity and opportunity. His was a great life, filled with much hope and many projects. Then one major project was completed and finalized. Rather large payments were anticipated, but a shrewd businessman found that oral approvals, given to my friend to make many necessary alterations in the project, could easily be broken and not honored. After all, there was no written record of the changes requested. It was just “good business” to get it as cheap as possible, even after commitments were made. And so verbal commitments were not honored. The money due, which was considerable, was not paid.
At this point we have several prisons that are in place: the prison of deceit of the “shrewd” businessman, and the prison of the deceived, who could not now honor his own commitments. To this day the one deceived, through further industry and much hardship, is still trying to get out of the prison created by another. And he has lost confidence in others, and he and his family have lost opportunities and his business because of another.
Did not the Savior teach through the prophet Moses, “If a man shall cause a field or vineyard to be eaten, and shall put in his beast, and shall feed in another man’s field; of the best of his own field, and of the best of his own vineyard, shall he make restitution”? (Ex. 22:5).
These types of prisons often cause the offended to lose faith, hope, and even the ability to care for their own, as was the case with my young friend. But these prisons should not happen. They often cause years of anguish. They cause those involved to wonder about justice and mercy. Sometimes these people find it impossible to resolve their own personal affairs honorably.
The lessons taught by the Savior differ widely from these actions. For He taught, in effect, Do unto others as ye would have them do unto you (see Matt. 7:12; 3 Ne. 14:12). He taught, “Behold it is my will that you shall pay all your debts” (D&C 104:78). Yes, even if it takes years, pay your debts.
No Christian should ever be a challenge to another Christian. Many widows, single mothers, and older couples are victimized by those who take advantage of them, who do not honor their commitments and then put them into a type of prison. Those affected find themselves pleading for someone to open their prison doors, often while babies cry for bare necessities.
When we seek to follow Christ, we take the oath of a Christian as a member of this Church; we covenant to never put another in any sort of prison, but rather to try to liberate those who are there. We become like one man who said that when he joined this Church it changed the way he thought, the way he talked, the way he believed, the way he dressed, the way he worked and honored his employer, the things he read, the movies he saw, the way he conducted his financial affairs in absolute honesty with everyone, and the way he served others. He truly believed in the liberating power of the gospel of Jesus Christ and became free because of it. As is stated in the book of John, “If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed” (John 8:36).
Years ago an acquaintance of mine was captive for over twenty years to a serious alcohol problem, which bound him every day. He would leave work, buy his alcohol, drive into the countryside, and drink until he could barely find his way home. He truly was under the captive spirit of the devil and lived in hell. A faithful home teacher loved this brother, saw him often, taught him to pray for help, and prayed for him often. One day while he was driving his pickup truck into the countryside to begin his daily alcohol ritual, he felt a powerful influence to stop his truck, walk out into a field, fall to his knees, and plead for help from his Father in Heaven. Later, he tearfully testified that as he arose from his knees, the desire to drink alcohol had completely left him. He had been delivered from a twenty-year prison. God heard his prayer, felt the desire of his heart, and opened the prison doors that bound him.
Beloved friends, it is Jesus who has unlocked and will unlock the doors of our personal prisons. It is a glorious promise to all who are captive, for whatever reasons, upon the condition of repentance.
Certainly, a Latter-day Saint will demonstrate the freedom he has received by walking in all morality and all honesty, as taught by the Lord. For his word is his bond—sacred and honored. His life becomes the testament that it is all true—every principle and every word that proceeds from the mouth of the Savior and His prophets. By living these cardinal principles, we are truly free and we become the witnesses of His word.
One of the beautiful, profound statements of the man of God to Jean Valjean was: “My brother, you belong no more to evil, but to good. It is your soul I am buying for you, and I give it to God” (Victor Hugo, Les Miserables, volume 1, book 2, chapter 12). No more prisons for others, if you will, because of my actions.
Jesus came that man might have life and have it more abundantly. He walked the path, taught the way, opened the doors to truly liberate mankind, and said, “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). The writer, Mr. Douglas, expressed it beautifully when he said to Bob Merrick, “When you find THE WAY, you will be bound—it will become an obsession—a magnificent obsession.”
We know it works, for listen to the words which record what happened to the Saints who truly followed the Savior for two hundred years following His appearance in America:
“And as many as did come unto them, and did truly repent of their sins, were baptized in the name of Jesus; and they did also receive the Holy Ghost.
“… And there were no contentions and disputations among them, and every man did deal justly one with another.
“And they had all things common among them; therefore there were not rich and poor, bond and free, but they were all made free. …
“And surely there could not be a happier people among all the people who had been created by the hand of God” (4 Ne. 1:1–3, 16; emphasis added).
Yes, “by the power of his word did they cause prisons to tumble” (Morm. 8:24). May we live our lives so we will all be free with no prisons for ourselves or others, only a magnificent obsession filled with freedoms and blessings ahead, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sybil Ferguson is at present a business executive. As a young woman she had no plans for a professional career and was married right after high school. She spent a number of years raising a family, and after about 20 years of marriage she experienced the blahs of middle age. She was overweight, she didn’t like her appearance, and she didn’t feel very good about herself. She read a lot of books and developed a weight-loss program that worked for her. People were curious as to how she’d accomplished this feat, and so she shared her program with others. Finally, she opened a diet center in her home. That center was so successful she decided to franchise the program in other cities. After 12 years, her organization has 1,500 diet centers throughout the United States. This experience changed Sybil’s life. She has become a confident executive who does a lot of public speaking and has written a bestseller on losing weight.