Gospel Story Finder

In 1936, 68 years ago, one of the secretaries to the Quorum of the Twelve told me what a member of the Twelve had told her. She said that in the coming general conference there would be announced a program which would come to be recognized as even more noteworthy than the coming of our people to these valleys as pioneers.
Now, parenthetically, you should not tell your secretary what you should keep confidential, and she should not tell anyone else when she is given confidential information.
But that was what happened back then. It never happens today. Oh, no! I should add that my able secretaries are never guilty of such a breach of confidentiality.
As you who are acquainted with the history know, there was announced at that time the Church security plan, the name of which was subsequently changed to the Church welfare program.
I wondered back in those days how anything the Church did could eclipse in anyone’s judgment the historic gathering of our people to these western valleys of the United States. That was a movement of such epic proportions that I felt nothing could ever be so noteworthy. But I have discovered something of interest in the last short while.
We receive many prominent visitors in the office of the First Presidency. They include heads of state and ambassadors of nations. A few weeks ago, we entertained the mayor of one of the great cities of the world. We have, likewise, recently entertained the vice president and the ambassador of Ecuador, the ambassador from Lithuania, the ambassador from Belarus, and others. In our conversations not one of these visitors mentioned the great pioneer journey of our forebears. But each of them, independently, spoke in high praise of our welfare program and our humanitarian efforts.
And so as I speak in this great priesthood meeting, I wish to say a few words concerning our efforts in behalf of those in need, be they members of the Church or otherwise, in various parts of the world.
When the modern welfare program was put in motion, it was designed to take care of the needs of our own people. In the years that have followed, thousands upon thousands have been served. Bishops and Relief Society presidents have had available to them food and clothing and other supplies for those in need. Numberless members of the Church have worked in volunteer capacities in producing that which was required. We now operate 113 storehouses, 63 farms, 105 canneries and home storage centers, 18 food processing and distribution plants, as well as many other facilities.
Not only have the needs of Church members been met, but aid has been extended to countless others. Right here in this Salt Lake City community, many of the hungry are fed daily by non-LDS agencies utilizing LDS welfare supplies.
Here, in this city, and in a number of other places, we operate beautiful stores where there is no cash register, where no money changes hands, where food, clothing, and other necessities are provided to those in distress. I believe that no better milk, no better meat, and no better flour is found on any grocery shelf than that which is distributed from the bishops’ storehouses.
The principles on which these establishments operate are essentially what they were at the beginning.
Those in need are expected to do all they can to provide for themselves. Then families are expected to assist in taking care of their less-fortunate members. And then the resources of the Church are made available.
We believe in and take very seriously the words of our Lord:
“Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
“Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me” (Matt. 25:34–36).
This is the Lord’s way of caring for those in need which, He declared, “ye have … always with you” (see Matt. 26:11).
Those who are able voluntarily work to provide for those who are not able. Last year there were 563,000 days of donated labor in welfare facilities. That is the equivalent of a man working eight hours a day for 1,542 years.
A recent issue of the Church News carried the story of a group of farmers in a small Idaho community. May I read briefly from that account?
“It is 6 a.m. in late October, and frost already hangs in the air over the sugar beet fields of Rupert, Idaho.
“The long arms of the ‘beeters’ stretch out over twelve rows, slicing the tops off sugar beets. Behind them, the harvesters thrust their steel fingers into the soil and scoop up the beets, pulling them up toward a belt and into a waiting truck.
“… This is the Rupert Idaho Welfare Farm, and those who are working here today are volunteers. … At times more than 60 machines [are] working in harmony together— … all owned by local farmers.”
The work goes on throughout the day.
“[At] 7 p.m. … the sun has set, leaving the land dark and cold once again. The farmers head home, exhausted and happy.
“They have finished well another day.
“They have harvested the Lord’s sugar beets” (Neil K. Newell, “A Harvest in Idaho,” Church News, 20 Mar. 2004, 16).
Such remarkable volunteer service goes on constantly to assure supplies for the storehouses of the Lord.
Since the early beginnings, the program has moved beyond caring for the needy to the encouragement of preparedness on the part of families of the Church. No one knows when catastrophe might strike—or sickness, or unemployment, or a disabling accident.
Last year the program helped families store 18 million pounds of basic foods against a possible time of need. Hopefully, that time will never come. But the good, wholesome, basic food so stored brings peace of mind and also the satisfaction of obedience to counsel.
Now there has been added another element. It began some years ago when drought in Africa brought hunger and death to uncounted numbers. Members of the Church were invited to contribute to a great humanitarian effort to meet the needs of those terribly impoverished people. Your contributions were numerous and generous. The work has continued because there are other serious needs in many places. The outreach of this aid has become a miracle. Millions of pounds of food, medical supplies, blankets, tents, clothing, and other materials have staved off famine and desolation in various parts of the world. Wells have been dug, crops have been planted, lives have been saved. Let me give you an example.
Neil Darlington is a chemical engineer who worked for a large industrial company in Ghana. Eventually, he retired.
He and his wife were then called as a missionary couple. They were sent to Ghana. Brother Darlington says, “In areas of famine, disease, and social unrest, we were there as representatives of the Church, extending a helping hand to the destitute, the hungry, the distressed.”
In small villages they drilled new wells and repaired old ones. Those of us who have fresh, clean water in abundance can scarcely appreciate the circumstances of those who are without.
Can you picture this couple, devoted Latter-day Saint missionaries? They drill into the dry earth. Their drill reaches the water table below, and the miracle liquid comes to the surface and spills over the dry and thirsty soil. There is rejoicing. There are tears. There is now water to drink, water with which to wash, water to grow crops. There is nothing more treasured in a dry land than water. How absolutely beautiful is water pouring from a new well.
On one occasion, when the tribal chiefs and the elders of the village gathered to thank them, Brother Darlington asked the chief if he and Sister Darlington could sing a song for them. They looked into the eyes of the dark-skinned men and women before them and sang “I Am a Child of God” as an expression of their common brotherhood.
This one couple, through their efforts, have provided water for an estimated 190,000 people in remote villages and refugee camps. Contemplate, if you will, the miracle of this accomplishment.
And now, literally thousands of their kind, married couples, couples who otherwise might simply have lived out their lives in largely idle pursuits, have served, and are serving, in scores of ways and in scores of places. They have worked and continue to work in the impoverished areas of America. They have worked, and still do so, in India and Indonesia, in Thailand and Cambodia, in Russia and the Baltic nations. And so the work expands.
Joining with others, the Church has recently provided wheelchairs for some 42,000 disabled persons. Think of what this means to people who literally have had to crawl to get about. With the aid of selfless doctors and nurses, neonatal resuscitation training was provided to nearly 19,000 professionals in the year 2003 alone. The lives of thousands of babies will be spared as a consequence.
Last year some 2,700 individuals were treated for eye problems, and 300 local practitioners were trained in sight-saving procedures. The blind have literally been made to see.
Where devastating floods have come, where earthquakes have created disaster, where hunger has stalked the land, wherever want has been created by whatever cause, representatives of the Church have been there. Some 98 million dollars in cash and in-kind assistance have been distributed in the past year, bringing such aid to a total of 643 million dollars in just 18 years.
I have been a firsthand witness to the effectiveness of our humanitarian efforts. In traveling the world, I have seen the recipients of your generosity. In 1998 I visited the areas of Central America, which had been ravaged by Hurricane Mitch. Here the distribution of food and clothing was quickly organized, and the cleaning and rebuilding of devastated homes and shattered lives was a miracle to behold.
There is not time to go on recounting the reach of these great and significant programs. In extending help we have not asked whether those affected belong to the Church. For we know that each of earth’s children is a child of God worthy of help in time of need. We have done what we have done largely with the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing. We seek no commendation or thank-yous. It is compensation enough that when we help one of the least of these our Father’s children, we have done it unto Him and His Beloved Son (see Matt. 25:40).
We shall go on in this work. There will always be a need. Hunger and want and catastrophes will ever be with us. And there will always be those whose hearts have been touched by the light of the gospel who will be willing to serve and work and lift the needy of the earth.
As a correlated effort we have established the Perpetual Education Fund. It has come about through your generous contributions. It is now operating in 23 countries. Loans are extended to worthy young men and women for education. Otherwise, they would be trapped in the stagnated poverty their parents and forebears have known for generations. Some 10,000 and more are now being assisted, and experience to this date indicates that with such training they are now earning three to four times what was previously possible.
The Spirit of the Lord guides this work. This welfare activity is secular activity, expressing itself in terms of rice and beans, of blankets and tents, of clothing and medicine, of employment and education for better employment. But this so-called secular work is but an outward expression of an inward spirit—the Spirit of the Lord of whom it was said, He “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38).
May heaven prosper this great program, and may heaven’s blessing rest upon all who serve therein, I humbly pray, in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

As President Hinckley held up that copy of the Book of Mormon from the first edition, I thought of an experience we had a few years ago as we attended a mission presidents’ seminar. At the closing of the two-day seminar in the Palmyra-Fayette area, we held a dinner in the reconstructed Peter Whitmer farmhouse, that beautiful little building where the Church was organized 168 years ago this weekend. It was such a moving occasion. The only cooking arrangement they had in that little log cabin was the fireplace. We looked at the fireplace, with a pot hanging where they did their cooking. They didn’t have any of the conveniences of today, of course. There was a well outside for their water.
Near the end of that very spiritual meeting with those mission presidents, I walked up the stairs and looked at the two little bedrooms. The Peter Whitmer family lived there. But they turned one of those rooms over to the Prophet Joseph Smith, and there he did some of the translating of the Book of Mormon. Oliver Cowdery worked with him in that humble little setting. My heart burned with the wonderful feeling I had of just being in that little farmhouse and imagining what took place and the blessings of heaven that had been poured out upon them.
As we left our meeting that evening and left that little farmhouse, there was a full moon shining down through the trees. I said to Ruby, “I can imagine the night of April 6, 1830, after that small group had assembled, the Church had been organized, and six men agreeable to its organization were present to be in harmony with the laws of the state of New York. I can imagine what was said, what was prophesied about the future of the Church, and the testimonies that would have been borne.” Then I said, “I would imagine that on the night of April the 6th, 1830, there was a full moon shining, showing that our Savior was smiling upon that occasion and upon that setting.”
Later I expressed that idea to a group where Brother Chamberlain, who then was the director of the Hansen Planetarium in Salt Lake, heard me say it. He was thoughtful enough to get in touch with the naval observatory to find out what might have happened on April the 6th, 1830. They didn’t have records back that far, so he was thoughtful enough to contact the Royal Observatory at Greenwich in England for records that might have been available over there. He later sent me some documents indicating what was happening in the horizon that week of April the 6th, 1830, indicating that there was a full or beautifully beaming moon those days before and after April the 6th. The glories of the Lord had been poured out upon the occasion.

“Jake! Jake!” hollered my little brother, Sam. “Come and see me.”
“Not now,” I called back, grabbing my hockey stick and heading onto the ice. My team, the Sharks, had a game to play, and I needed to warm up.
“What did Sam want?” asked my friend Joel. He didn’t have any little brothers, so he didn’t understand how Sam could be more annoying than ten mosquitos buzzing in your ears.
“Nothing important, I’m sure,” I said, gliding across the ice. “Let’s practice shooting.”
A few minutes later, the buzzer went off, and the players headed to their boxes for last-minute instructions.
“The Sharks will have to keep the puck away from Number Fifteen,” Coach warned as we huddled around him. “And we’ll have to pass the puck a lot, because the Jets are fast. Just remember to look for an open teammate.”
The clock buzzed again, and we skated onto the rink for the face-off. The referee dropped the puck between the two centers, their sticks clacked together, then the puck skittered toward me and I hooked it with my stick. A second later, a Jet defender raced in front of me. I remembered Coach’s advice and managed to pass the puck away just before he grabbed it.
The puck ricocheted all over the rink, with both teams skating hard to score. With only two seconds left in the first period, the Sharks finally managed to slip the puck past the Jet goalie and into the net.
“Yes!” cheered our team, banging our sticks against the boards as the clock buzzed, ending the period.
“Good job,” Coach said as we headed for the locker room. “Jake, I could see that you really listened to me. You made some great passes.”
“Thanks.” I could feel the sweat running down my face, and my legs ached from racing around the rink, but I didn’t mind. The Coach knew I’d paid attention and tried. That made me feel like I’d won a gold medal.
No one scored in the second period, but at the beginning of the third period, the Jets scored and tied the game. After that, both teams fought hard for the puck, but no one kept it long enough to score again. Then, with only thirty seconds left in the game, the Jets’ Number Fifteen intercepted a pass. He quickly stickhandled the puck down the rink with short, back-and-forth movements. None of the Sharks could catch him. Our goalie crouched down in front of the cage, trying to anticipate the shot, but Number Fifteen managed to send the puck flying into the corner of the net. The Jets had won the game, and I felt like a balloon that someone popped with a pin.
“You played a great game,” Joe told me, slapping my back as we lined up to shake hands with the Jet players. Joe always tried to cheer me up. He was the best friend a guy could have.
“Jake,” Sam called again as the Jets headed to the locker room.
“I’ll see you at home,” I said, pulling off my helmet. “I have to shower and change.”
I hurried inside. I knew that Sam would talk to me all night, anyway. After I changed, I looked for Joe but couldn’t find him.
“He left as soon as we finished playing,” someone told me. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed out alone. I’d call Joe later and ask him to come over.
When I got home, I pulled off my jacket and hat. Then I stared at the floor. Another duffel bag sat there, and Joe’s jacket was plopped on top of it.
“Is Joe here?” I asked my dad.
“He’s in the family room with Sam,” Dad said.
I went into the family room and saw Sam lying on the couch, with Joe sitting in a chair by his side.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My stomach started hurting at the hockey game,” Sam said. “You were busy, so I told Joe.”
“I didn’t mind walking home with him,” Joe said. “He told me he didn’t feel well, so I just came right here after the game.”
“Oh,” I said, finally noticing that Joe still had his uniform on.
“See you later, big guy,” Joe told Sam, standing up and stretching. “Then you can tell me all about that poster you’re drawing.”
“What poster?” I asked.
“The one I’m making for science class,” said Sam. “It has whales on it. Joe likes to know what I’m doing.”
“Oh,” I said again as Sam pulled a blanket up over his shoulders.
“Do you need anything?” I asked him, feeling kind of guilty.
“No, I’m fine,” said Sam, and his droopy eyes started to close.
Joe left, and I dragged my duffel bag to our laundry room. I thought about Sam as I put my hockey uniform into the washing machine. Coach had said I did a good job of listening, but when it came to Sam, I usually ignored him. No wonder he’d asked Joe to bring him home. Joe listened to Sam just like he always listened to me. He made Sam feel important; I treated Sam like a pest. I definitely didn’t feel proud of that.
After supper that night, I did something different. Instead of calling Joe, I picked a book about whales off my shelf. Then I went into the family room, where Sam was watching television. “Have you seen this book yet?” I asked him, showing him the killer whales on the cover.
“Cool!” Sam smiled at me. “Did you read that?”
“Yeah. Actually, I like whales, too. Maybe I can help you with your poster.”
“Really?” he asked. “Do you really want to help me?”
“Really,” I said, opening the book. “Show me your favorites.” Sam hesitated for only a second. Then he started turning pages and talking ten miles a minute.
This time I listened. Just maybe, one day Sam will think that I’m the best brother a guy could ever have.

Over 50 years ago, I had the privilege to serve as the president of Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. On the morning of June 5, 1976, my wife, Kathy, and I drove from Rexburg to the Idaho Falls Idaho Temple to attend the sealing of a close friend. Of course, with four young boys in our home at the time, our temple trip could be only accomplished with the help of a courageous babysitter! We left our precious children in her care and made the short, 30-minute drive.
Our experience in the temple that day was wonderful, as it always was. However, after the conclusion of the temple sealing—and as we were preparing to return home—we noticed many temple workers and patrons nervously conversing in the lobby of the temple. Within moments, one of the temple workers told us that the newly constructed Teton Dam in eastern Idaho had collapsed! More than 80 billion gallons (300 million cubic meters) of water were flowing through the dam and into the 300 square miles (775 square km) of neighboring valleys. Much of the city of Rexburg was underwater, with homes and vehicles carried away by floodwaters. Two-thirds of the 9,000 residents were suddenly homeless.
As you might imagine, our thoughts and concerns turned to the safety of our dear children, hundreds of college students and faculty, and a community we loved. We were less than 30 miles (50 km) from home, and yet on this day, long before cell phones and text messaging, we had no way of communicating immediately with our children, nor could we make the drive from Idaho Falls to Rexburg, as all the roads had been closed.
Our only option was to stay the night in a local motel in Idaho Falls. Kathy and I knelt together in our motel room and humbly pleaded with Heavenly Father for the safety of our dear children and the thousands of others affected by the tragic event. I recall Kathy pacing the floors into the early hours of the morning with worry about her children. Despite my own concerns, I was able to put my mind at ease and fall asleep.
It wasn’t long thereafter that my sweet eternal companion woke me and said, “Hal, how can you sleep at a time like this?”
These words then came clearly to my heart and mind. I said to my wife: “Kathy, whatever the outcome, all will be well because of the temple. We have made covenants with God and have been sealed as an eternal family.”
At that moment, it was as if the Spirit of the Lord confirmed in our hearts and minds what we both already knew to be true: the sealing ordinances, found only in the house of the Lord and administered by proper priesthood authority, had bound us together as husband and wife, and our children had been sealed to us. There truly was no need to fear, and we were grateful later to learn that our boys were safe.

In 1992, I graduated from BYU and was hired by the Church Educational System as a full-time seminary teacher at Rigby High School. During the middle of my first year (probably around February), I had some challenging students (three male students in a third-hour class. Some days, I must admit, they made me feel good about getting paid as a religious educator.) This disruption led me to question my choice to become a teacher. As a result, I wasn’t that excited about getting up in the morning and going to work. I ran more and more to relieve my anxiety and some days spent more time reading the graduate catalogue than the scriptures. I remember thinking, “I love the gospel; I know it’s true. I can’t say, though, that I loved these students (three in particular—did I mention that?).”
One day, in the midst of this wrestle, the Spirit placed a clear message in my mind. The four-word revelation was, “They are my gospel!” This answer was at first disturbing. Was the Lord questioning my testimony by associating my rambunctious students with His gospel? Wasn’t it possible to believe in Him, love Him and His teachings and prophets, but not love and believe in certain students? Was He suggesting that I didn’t really know the gospel was true despite serving a mission or teaching at the MTC? If I didn’t love and believe in them like He does, could I say I really believed in and loved Him? Over time the Spirit carried this message to my heart. How grateful I will always be for this message from the Spirit. It has changed the way I think and feel towards others. I’m not perfect, but I know the way. I hope you know that He lives and loves you. You are His gospel.

Three months passed before doctors diagnosed his problem—a rare neurological condition. By then it was too late for him to return to the mission field, but he didn’t stop being a missionary. After eight years of friendship with Daniel, Kristen finally agreed to learn about the gospel. She hadn’t believed in Christ—until Daniel began teaching her. Then I knew I was witnessing another miracle.
Two weeks before Daniel had originally been scheduled to come home, Kristen was baptized. Daniel’s most difficult trial had turned into a precious blessing.

While 10-year-old Trace and his friends were watching television, a show came on that Trace knew he should not watch. After a few minutes he felt awful inside. Finally, he had the courage to say, “I can’t watch this show.” Two of his friends said that they couldn’t watch the show either. They changed the channel. Later, Trace’s mom told him that the feeling he had was the Holy Ghost telling him to choose the right. Trace and his friends were blessed with a feeling of peace because they obeyed Heavenly Father’s commandments.

The patriarchal order runs from Abraham to Isaac and to Jacob. Through the line of the priesthood, it continues in our own day and time. Through the ages, blessings and promises were given from the fathers to their faithful sons. A modern example of this is taken from the life of Elder John B. Dickson of the Seventy. He recalls:
“When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if He wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.
“Some would think that losing an arm would be a terrible burden, but it has been one of the greatest blessings in my life. I learned that it is very important to have challenges and to face up to them.”
Elder Dickson had always been right-handed, and now he had to learn to do everything left-handed. One struggle was learning how to tie his ties. He said: “One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times.”

The second story unfolded this summer and centers on the service rendered a foreign government officer by two BYU students from the same country. The official had been assigned by her government to do a special report on the LDS Church. Until the assignment she had been responsible for minority religions in her country. She had completed sometime earlier a PhD thesis on Protestantism in America. In order to complete her study of the LDS Church, she was invited by Church officials to spend three weeks in Salt Lake City and Provo visiting with Church leaders and a small team of BYU faculty.

Three individuals were assigned to host the visitor. One was a professor at BYU who was a returned mission president from the visitor’s country. Two were BYU women students native to the country in question. Between the three of them, they arranged housing, meals, appointments, translation, and visits to Temple Square, Welfare Square, and other off-campus sites. They helped her gather information and learn firsthand about the Church.

During the second week the visitor became ill. Having some knowledge of the Church, she asked one of her student hosts if it would be possible to receive a health blessing. The young student, a recent convert, responded favorably but was not sure who might give the blessing. She asked for a little time. Suddenly she felt a prompting and hurried to the temple. There she met two returned missionaries who had served in her homeland. They accepted the invitation and administered to the visitor. Three days later the government visitor said to her student friend, “Your Church is true!”

The student responded, “Why do you say that?”

The woman then said, “Because of the feeling that was present during the blessing given by the two young men.”

One does not know what the government official will do in her personal life with respect to the Church. One does know, however, that a strong friendship exists between the woman and her hosts. The students and the professor who served her during the three-week period have become the woman’s close friends. The professor has been invited to attend the meeting at which she will present her report to top government leaders.

I marvel at the miracle of the birth of a child. Just recently we experienced it again in our family. You receive a phone call, and there is the anxious voice of your son-in-law on the other end, stating, “I am just on my way to the hospital with Linda Gay.” Then you sit anxiously all day waiting for further news. Finally it comes: It’s a boy! Then you drop everything and rush to the hospital to offer your congratulations. There you see this blessed miracle—your own child, now with a baby cradled in her arms with warmth and tender love. You see a son-in-law so excited, and he starts pointing out that the baby’s nose looks like his mother’s. Maybe the chin and mouth resemble his. Then he looks at the hands and says, “Surely, these must be from the Perry side of the family. Look how large they are!”

A deep love wells up within you as you witness this blessed event and realize the joy and happiness these new parents will now have as the process is repeated again in their lives.

Let me give you two examples of a fulfillment of this promise. One day while serving as the Executive Director of the Missionary Department, I received a phone call pertaining to a man who had received a call to serve as a mission president accompanied, of course, by his wife. His business partners, who could not understand the willingness of this man and his wife to leave their business, offered the church $100,000 if the call would be rescinded. I knew, of course, the answer but took it, nevertheless, to the member of the Quorum of the Twelve who was serving as the Chairman of the Missionary Executive Committee. His response was predictable. “Tell them we need the brother, his wife, and would appreciate the $100,000 as well.”

How much pressure do you think his partners applied on him before the money was offered to the Church? What risk was he taking after investing so much of his life in the business world? How difficult might it be when they returned to the business after their mission? Would there be anything there? I have watched that couple carefully since that day and can testify to you that the impact of their devotion and sacrifice has righteously influenced a multitude of people. Their sacrifices during and after that mission have “yielded much precious fruit.”

Elder Bangerter has asked me to share a deeply personal experience with you today. A few years ago, while we were living in St. George, Utah, I received a phone call. I could see on my caller ID that it was my dad. I had rarely heard from my father over the last 50 years, so I went to a quiet room for the call.

When I was just seven years old, while living in New York, my dad drove away for a new life with a new wife, leaving my mom, my four brothers, and myself. I’m certain he never looked back. My mom needed help, so she moved us to Salt Lake City to live by her sister, where we could be surrounded by good people and raised in the gospel. She worked two jobs and wore herself out each and every day. She taught us to trust in the Lord. Over the years, we were blessed to have wonderful ward members, great youth leaders, and bishops care for and love us.

My dad on the other hand, only took care of himself, not thinking of others. He was an alcoholic but eventually stopped drinking and smoking for health reasons. Now, we know from the scriptures, [2] from teachings of the prophets, [3] and from personal experience that we can’t really feel joy unless we are serving others. We grow when we look outside of ourselves and help others. But he had been caught in this sad, selfish state of looking inward for 90 years.

So, I answered the phone. He said, “Hi Susan, I just want to let you know that I’m getting baptized.” I said, “Dad, you have to go to church and stuff like that!” He chuckled and explained that he had been for months. Two missionaries had been teaching him about God, families, and eternal life. The ward and bishop had made him feel so welcome at church. The phone call ended quickly as he had many people to call. I walked out to our family room and announced to my husband and family that my dad was getting baptized. We were in disbelief . . . but we rented a 15-passenger van, loaded everyone in, including my brother and his wife, and drove to Bakersfield, California, to see it with our own eyes.

We made it in time, and there he was, dressed in white, standing between these two elders. I’m so very grateful they did not overlook a 90-year-old man who needed peace, who had children and grandchildren who had been praying for him for over 50 years.

I love everything about the gospel, but the cleansing ordinance of baptism and the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ has been confirmed to me in this very tender way. My dad then moved to St. George, Utah, to live with my brother and be closer to us. He came to visit almost every day, and each time he would tell me, or my husband, or one of our six sons, how sorry he was that he had missed our whole lives and that it would be different now. He expressed love over and over and talked of going to the temple and becoming an eternal family . . . words I never imagined I would hear in this life.

One day, I was planting flowers, and he sat in his walker next to me, offering this same apology. I listened again until he finished and said, “Dad, thank you for your apology. You need to understand that our Heavenly Father has always known you, and me, and when you were not there to take care of me, He took care of me. He gave Mom the strength she needed to care and provide for us. I forgave you so long ago. Our Savior has too. He has always known you, Dad. He loves you, and so do we.”

As a young teenager I read one day in the Book of Mormon about Lehi’s dream, and I considered Nephi’s description that “the whiteness [of the tree] did exceed the whiteness of the driven snow” (1 Nephi 11:8).
I thought, How did Nephi know what snow looks like?
I understood that Nephi had grown up in Jerusalem, which has a Mediterranean climate, and that he had traveled through a desert and across an ocean to the tropical jungles of America. I thought, Nephi never saw snow—he could not know what snow looks like!
That thought troubled me; it appeared to be an inconsistency in the record, a possible evidence that the Book of Mormon was not true. With my young, developing faith, that was an earth-­shaking thought.
This issue nagged at me, but over the next ­several years I reread the Book of Mormon anyway, probably a dozen times, and my testimony of the book grew. But how could I believe in the Book of Mormon so strongly when I entertained a serious question about its consistency as a historical record? Did I lack intellectual integrity?
Years later, as a returned missionary and BYU student, I read one day a news article about conflict in the Middle East, and I was startled to find a description of a snowy scene in Jerusalem. Wait a minute—it snows in Jerusalem?! Who knew?
As smart as I thought I was as a teenager, I wasn’t all that smart. There was no problem with Nephi’s description of the tree. Nephi grew up in Jerusalem; it snows in Jerusalem.10
Now this may be a simple example, but the principle applies to greater challenges. We sometimes think we are pretty smart, and when something comes along that doesn’t fit our way of thinking—such as information about Church history or divorce in a temple marriage or same-gender attraction—it shakes us up, and we may begin to question our beliefs.
But maybe, like my trouble with Nephi and snow, we are just missing important perspective. Perhaps we need to be patient and wait for the resolution to come.11

I was with President Lee on one occasion in New York City, where he had an interview with George Cornell, the senior writer of religion for the Associated Press. As we sat there, George Cornell said to President Lee, “I’d like to talk to you about some of the controversial aspects of your Church.”

As he mentioned one or two of them, Brother Lee said, “George, your readers do not want to hear about that. What your readers want to hear about is the great welfare program of the Church and the outstanding education program of the Church.” Mr. Cornell began to take notes, and as a result an almost full-page story from the Associated Press described our educational effort and our welfare program. No mention whatsoever was made of the controversial subjects of that time. This was the persuasive ability of Harold B. Lee.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is one inch the first time, two inches the second time, and three inches the third time. After several trials he settles on three inches as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three inches, then two inches, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one inch.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three inches,” and Susan counters with “one inch.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two inches each time.
Few of us are ever invited into an experimental laboratory to share our opinions, but each day of our lives we are required to make important judgments in the laboratory of life. Sometimes we tend to forget some important eternal truths. For example, “the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil.” The Lord assured us that if we are responsive to his spirit, he will “show [us] the way to judge” (Moro. 7:16). The Savior also referred to himself as “the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12). This light never moves, and if it appears to move from us, we are the ones who have moved.
Sometimes in everyday life, just as in the darkened laboratory, we lose our perspective as familiar landmarks vanish. We think the light has moved. One of the ways we move from the light of Christ is in engaging in the “Not As Bad As Game.” You know how it goes:
“I swear a lot, but I never take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“I don’t pay a full tithing, but at least I pay something.”
“I go to a few questionable movies, but never to an X-rated movie.”
“Necking isn’t as bad as petting.”
“Sure, I cheat on my income tax, but not as bad as other people.”
“I don’t consider it gossip when I’m only telling the truth.”
“If what I wear is a little extreme, it’s not as bad as what others at school wear.”
And so, in the words of our beloved friend Nephi, “thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
Although the light never moves, the more often we are in contact with that which is abnormal, degrading, and undesirable, the more normal and desirable it begins to appear. We become less sensitive to the promptings of the still, small voice. In that same great epistle which motivated the boy prophet Joseph to seek the Lord in prayer, the Apostle James shared some great insights into this process:
“Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.
“Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man:
“But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.
“Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death. …
“Wherefore lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and receive with meekness the engrafted word, which is able to save your souls” (James 1:12–15, 21).
Youth of the noble birthright, you have been lovingly commanded to “shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).
Remember, the light never moves.

“When I was about nine years old, I remember Grandpa sitting in his big overstuffed chair. He allowed me to stand behind him and comb his beautiful hair. I would part it in the middle then comb it back in different ways. Sometimes I would part his hair on the side and try a new style, and I would comb it down over his face in the process. He was very patient and let me comb it until my arms were tired.”

When President Washington arrived at Gilbert’s home studio, the six-foot-two Washington set his face in the stony, lifeless expression typically seen in portraits of that period. Stuart wondered how he could get Washington to appear more natural. The artist usually got his subjects to pose with lively expressions on their faces by talking to them about their interests. Stuart tried to talk to the president about the American Revolution. When Washington didn’t respond, Stuart tried discussing great political figures of ancient Rome. Washington seemed bored, so Stuart had to do his best without the president’s help. The same was true when he painted a second portrait of Washington, this time a full-length picture.

When Washington sat for his third portrait—the last one by Stuart—the artist was still puzzling over how to capture a more lively expression of Washington. Finally Stuart gripped his paintbrush and began to sketch the outline of the president’s head. When Stuart happened to glance up from his canvas, he saw a sudden, bright expression cross Washington’s face. The president had just seen a beautiful horse gallop by the window. Stuart searched his brain for all that he knew about horses and started talking, and Washington’s face soon glowed with interest in their conversation.

From horses, the conversation turned to farming. George Washington had been a planter in Virginia before he became president of the United States. Unfortunately, before the sitting that day was finished, the president’s face had assumed its stiff expression again.

In subsequent sittings, some of Washington’s friends came with him, and their conversation helped keep the president’s face more animated. However, now Stuart wanted Washington’s expression to better show his powerful leadership qualities. By making the president wait when he arrived for the sitting, Stuart irritated Washington just enough so that his face reflected the expression he wore when he was a general commanding his troops.

Sometimes you start catching and then think folks don’t want you to catch them anymore. I was ordained a Seventy in St. George when dirt was new and Enoch was the president of the Church. In those days the office of a Seventy was a local office in the priesthood. Another Seventy and I were stake missionaries, and we helped our neighbor Matt and his wife come into the Church and to full Church activity. Then we were allowed to go to another stake and teach Matt’s parents, Ward and Louise. It was clear that Louise was quite interested, and it was also abundantly clear that Ward only listened—if you could call it listening—to be courteous to Louise. After several months, despite Louise’s progress, we had to stop teaching them.

A couple of years later, a colleague who was the ward mission leader in the ward Louise and Ward lived in came to my room and told me Louise wanted me to call her. Because I began my teaching career when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I didn’t have a cell phone available to use, because they weren’t invented yet. I had to wait until recess to call her on the office telephone. When I reached her, we exchanged greetings, and then she said, “I have decided to be baptized. I woke up this morning with this feeling that I wanted to be baptized.”

I was elated. Then I asked, “Louise, how does Ward feel about this?”

She said, “I don’t know. He hasn’t said much.”

I called her back that evening to follow up on the arrangements for her baptism, and, to my surprise, she told me Ward had decided to be baptized too. They were baptized a few days later and then were sealed in the holy temple a year after that. A few months later I received word that Louise had passed away.

May Li walked home from school with her friend. The Taipei, Taiwan (China), sidewalk was crowded with people. Trucks, cars, and scooters roared past them. May Li was happy when she saw her building. She was tired and hungry. “Good-bye, Ling Ling,” she said. “I have to help my mother prepare dinner and then get my schoolwork done.”
“Ummm …” Ling Ling looked down as she started to speak. “Do you think I could come and help? You know I can chop fast, and I like to help.”
May Li was puzzled. Why did her friend always want to help fix dinner? This was the second time this week that Ling Ling had asked to help. And she had helped at least twice the week before. Each time Ling Ling helped, May Li’s mother invited her to stay for dinner.
May Li ran up the steps to her home, motioning for Ling Ling to follow her. “Come on,” she replied. “We’ll ask my mother if you can stay.”
Ling Ling jumped two steps at a time. She almost beat May Li to the top step. “Hsieh-hsieh (Thank you). I hope your mother says I may stay.”
May Li’s mind was filled with worries as they burst through the doorway to her home. She liked to have Ling Ling stay for dinner, but she worried that her parents might not like having her come so often. Most of all, she worried about Ling Ling. Maybe her friend didn’t get enough to eat at her own home.
“I’m home!” May Li called. “Ling Ling is with me. She wants to help prepare dinner.”
May Li’s mother greeted the girls with a happy smile. “It is nice to have a friend who likes to share your work. And you are welcome to stay for dinner, Ling Ling.”
Ling Ling jumped and clapped her hands. “Hsieh-hsieh! I would love to stay for dinner.”
“You should call your mother,” May Li said, “to make certain it’s all right with her.”
Ling Ling’s happy smile went away. “Yes, I need to call. Last time I stayed here for dinner, Mother was not very happy. She says that I stay too often.”
While Ling Ling went into the next room to call, May Li talked quietly to her mother. “I hope it is all right to bring Ling Ling home for dinner again. She likes to come here so much. I will eat less if we do not have enough.”
“I am not concerned about the food,” Mother said. “We are happy to share what we have. But I am beginning to wonder if Ling Ling is not getting enough food at home.”
“I know. I have wondered that also.”
May Li looked at the delicious vegetables soaking in the sink, and at the fish and pork ready to be fried. “Maybe Ling Ling only gets rice to eat—maybe she doesn’t even get enough rice!”
May Li wondered what to do, but before she could say any more, she heard Ling Ling hang up the telephone. May Li began to chop the vegetables. Chop, chop, chop. Quickly the mushrooms became many small pieces.
“Guess what?” Ling Ling exclaimed. “I can stay! What would you like me to chop?”
May Li and Ling Ling chopped cabbage, green peppers, and green onions. They laughed and giggled as they set rice bowls and kuaidze (chopsticks) on the table.
Dinner was almost ready by the time May Li’s father came home. He greeted everyone when he came in the door. May Li felt better. She knew that father would know what to do if Ling Ling’s family did not have enough food.
When dinner was ready, May Li’s father invited everyone to kneel for the prayer. He knelt beside his chair. “May Li, would you say the family prayer tonight? And be sure to remember all of our friends and their families.”
Of course! That was the answer! May Li knew that Heavenly Father loved Ling Ling’s family as much as He loved hers. She knew that He would answer her prayer and bless them. As she prayed, she thanked Heavenly Father for having Ling Ling in their home, and she asked a special blessing for Ling Ling’s family—that they would always have enough food to eat. When the prayer was over, everyone sat up to the table and started to eat.
“Hsieh-hsieh for that nice prayer,” said Ling Ling, “and for including my family.”
May Li looked at her rice bowl. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I hope your family always has enough food to eat.”
“Oh, we do,” Ling Ling said. “And my mother is a wonderful cook.”
“But, I thought …” May Li had a difficult time coming up with the right words. “I thought you didn’t have enough food to eat and that is why you like to come and eat at my house so often.”
Ling Ling looked down and stirred the rice in her bowl. “No, it isn’t the food at your house,” she said. “It is the prayer. I feel good inside when I kneel with your family to pray. I wish my family did that.” She paused, then added, “My mother said to invite you over to our house for dinner. If you come, I will ask my parents if we can have family prayer because you are there and it is your family tradition. Will you help me say the prayer if my parents agree?”
May Li and her parents looked at each other with surprise. May Li smiled. “I would love to go to your house for dinner,” she said. “I will help you chop vegetables. And I will be happy to help you say the family prayer. Hsieh-hsieh for asking me.”

Years ago, while conducting a class discussion on stewardship, something remarkable happened. I posed the question, “Who captains your stewardship?” After considerable open, thoughtful, and sometimes invigorating discussion the class was clearly divided. Some answered “the Savior” while others countered by saying, “We are the captains” of our stewardship. The class-time ended without a clear resolution to the question.

The next morning as I entered my office I noticed on my desk a picture painted by Warner E. Sallman, entitled Christ the Pilot. On the back of the picture, one of my students wrote a note that read: “Brother Price, who captains my stewardship? Hopefully it is as the picture indicates.”

Though I had seen the picture many times, it was at that moment that insights flowed into my mind and soul as never before. A thoughtful student’s initiative and the Spirit of the Lord taught me that day. For the next few hours I recorded my thoughts, observation, feeling, scriptures and words of living prophets on the subject of stewardship, while gazing at this picture.

Let us review Heth’s observations and add a few from other students. We note that the:
1. Conditions are stormy, not unlike life
2. The speck of blue sky is a ray of hope
3. The Savior is near
4. He is showing (pointing) the way
5. The young man is attentive and alert
6. He appears calm and confident
7. The young man’s hands are on the wheel
8. The Savior’s hand is placed gently on the young man’s shoulder.
The young man seems to understand his stewardship role. He seems willing to receive divine guidance. With our hands on the wheel of stewardship, clearly, we are responsible for what happens.

As we look at this picture, our role as stewards becomes apparent, and our relationship to the savior is defined.