Gospel Story Finder

I live in Lagos, Nigeria. When I was 13 years old, a missionary couple, Elder and Sister Grimshaw, started visiting us. They taught us the gospel, and at first I was unreceptive.
As time went on, I started listening attentively to them and asked questions which they answered satisfactorily. Yet I still did not believe them and planned to refuse baptism. On the day of our last discussion, they asked us to pray sincerely about what they had taught us. This touched me so much that I decided to be baptized with my family.
After baptism, I started studying the Book of Mormon, with frequent fasting and prayer. I did not feel bold talking to people, but as I studied, I began to feel a strong desire to lead a righteous life.
After completing the Book of Mormon, my testimony became very strong and a sudden desire to share the gospel came upon me. I started feeling the spirit of peace within me. I started telling my friends about the Church with boldness unlike before. My testimony grew so much I began to share it at fast and testimony Sunday.
My family was overwhelmed at my spiritual growth, and joy filled their hearts. All this happened two years after I joined the Church. The fear and shyness I used to have suddenly fled away. I was convinced that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth this day.

When I was growing up, one of the highlights of every year was Christmas Eve. My family and I made pizza, went caroling, and then gathered for a Christmas devotional. We sang hymns in shaky four-part harmony and blasted out carols on our odd assortment of musical instruments. Dad always ended the evening with a Christmas thought that left us in happy tears. Life didn’t get any better than Christmas Eve.
When I was a little older, my mom began taking care of a young neighbor, Kelly. Kelly came over to our house every day after school while her mom, Patty, worked. Kelly followed me around like a puppy—loud and needy. It was always a relief when Patty collected her daughter and left my home and family in peace.
One December, I was horrified when mom invited Patty and Kelly to join us for Christmas Eve. My Christmas Eve. Mom smiled and assured me, “It won’t change a thing.” But I knew better. They would eat all our pizza. Kelly would make fun of our singing. I resigned myself to the worst Christmas Eve ever.
When the evening came, Patty and Kelly joined us, and we talked and laughed and sang. My mother was right. It was perfect. At midnight they thanked us and reluctantly parted. I went to bed with a full heart. I discovered that the truly precious gifts of Christmas are not diminished when shared. Instead they sweeten and multiply when we give them away.

I have been impressed with the moving account of Emma Smith’s most earnest desires at a very challenging time in her life. We read of when her husband decided to return to Carthage:
Emma asked [him] to give her a blessing. The Prophet told her to write the best blessing she could desire. He promised her that upon his return, he would sign it for her. [In Relief Society Courses of Study, 1985 (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1984), 199]
That tells us something about the confidence the Prophet had in the desires of Emma’s heart. He never returned from Carthage. But we have a record of her desires at that fateful time in her life. She wrote nine things she most desired. The first sentence used the words “I . . . crave,” and the following nine “I desire.” I would like to share with you her first and last statements:
First of all that I would crave as the richest of heaven’s blessings would be wisdom from my Heavenly Father bestowed daily, so that whatever I might do or say, I could not look back at the close of the day with regret, nor neglect the performance of any act that would bring a blessing.
She completed her list of ten with this statement: “Finally, I desire that whatever may be my lot through life I may be enabled to acknowledge the hand of God in all things” (in Relief Society Courses of Study 1985, 199). Under the most severe testing during that crucial time in the history of the Church, Emma Smith’s desires tells us something of the strength of her back.

Have you ever dreamed about being in the Olympics? Rachel and Nathan P. have—but their dreams are not about twirling across the ice or lunging across the finish line. At “Dress for Your Dreams” day at school, they dressed for the Olympic event they dream about—archery.
It’s a sport they practice about four times a week. Nathan, age 10, first tried archery at Cub Scout camp a few years ago. Then Rachel, age 12, discovered that she liked it too. Now they’re both winning trophies and medals at regional and national archery tournaments.
Rachel and Nathan live in Ledyard, Connecticut, not too far from the ocean. When they practice in their backyard, they each shoot 72 arrows. If it’s rainy or cold, they practice in their basement.

Frequently a prospect can get employment and save his money until he has a reasonable amount. Let me tell you of one young man in the central West I interviewed for a mission. I asked him about his finances; he said, “Oh, the elders quorum is going to take care of it.”

And I said, “Oh, no, the elders quorum isn’t going to take care of it. Who is going to take care of your finances?”

And he said, “Oh, the elders quorum. They said they would.”

I said, “No, we send no missionaries totally supported by anyone else. They must make a contribution themselves.”

And so I started to go to make my next appointment, and he said, “Wait a minute, Brother Kimball. I’ve got a collection of guns that are very valuable. And I could get hundreds of dollars for them. I’ll sell them.” And he said, “I’ve got some musical instruments. I won’t need them while I’m on my mission, and I can sell them. And I can make quite a sizable contribution toward my mission.” A few weeks later, I met him in Salt Lake on his way to his mission.

“Now let’s get started,” I said, a little bit nervous as a new district leader at the thought of performing my first baptismal interview. Nevertheless, I was doing my best to maintain an air of confidence that would put everyone at ease.
“Okay, teacher,” said the middle-aged Cambodian woman seated across from me. The elders in my district had been running a successful school to teach English to the Southeast Asian refugees who had settled in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Because of this school they were able to make a great many contacts, all of whom continued to address them and all other missionaries as “teacher.”
For the last several days I had been studying , and rehearsing the questions, and I was confident that there would be no problem at all with the interview. The elders who had been teaching her assured me that she was fluent enough in English that she would not require a translator. I offered the prayer and began with the questions.
“Have you prayed about the gospel of Jesus Christ, and have your prayers been answered?” The smile on her face widened and she began to laugh. Her head shook back and forth and she said, “I don’t know, teacher.”
Remembering that English could be a complicated language, I restated the question in simpler terms: “Do you know that the Church is true?”
Once again, she looked at me as if she did not understand a thing I had said, began to laugh, and said “I … I don’t know.”
I was stumped. As far as I knew, she had expressed the desire to be baptized, and she was attending the branch in the area that held services in Cambodian. What could I do? There was no way that I could allow her to be baptized without an interview, but she wasn’t understanding any of the questions, no matter how simple I tried to make them.
Not knowing what else to do, I reached for a flip-chart that the elders had given me in case I ran into difficulty. I flipped through the gospel principles that were written out in four or five of the languages used by the transplanted Asian people of the valley. Somewhere near what appeared to be the first discussion I came across a picture of the Savior. In desperation, I showed her the picture and asked, “Do you know Jesus Christ?”
All of a sudden her face lit up and she began to nod her head frantically. “Yes, teacher, yes, yes. I love Jesus Christ,” she cried in obvious recognition of the picture in front of her.
Finally we had struck common ground. Not knowing the ins and outs of the English language, she had summed up all of the words and emotions that convey a positive message into one word—love. Through the same process I was able to determine that she loved Joseph Smith, President Benson, the Ten Commandments, and the law of tithing.
In asking her about the Word of Wisdom, I was able to locate in the flip-chart a picture of some beer cans, cigarette packages, and coffee cups. When I showed her this conglomeration of substances that violated the laws of Jesus Christ, she reacted violently, shaking her head and declaring, “No, no teacher, no.”
When the interview was over, she had satisfactorily answered all of the questions, usually by doing no more than indicating her love for a particular person or concept. That afternoon I received a witness of the Spirit stronger than I have ever had that told me that she was prepared in every way for baptism. I congratulated her and told her that she could be baptized, and her face lit up again as she said, “Thank you, teacher, I love you.”
When she said this, I thought of the answer that Jesus Christ gave when he was asked which was the greatest of all the laws: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” (Matt. 22:37–39).
Although this woman humbly addressed me as “teacher,” her responses during the interview had taught me a great lesson. She had learned the essence of the gospel: she loved Jesus Christ unconditionally, and she loved everyone around her. Nobody had to convince her to keep the commandments of the Savior; this was a natural reaction for her. She loved Jesus Christ and wouldn’t think of knowingly breaking any of his laws.
Since that interview I have heard many powerful testimonies of the gospel. I have listened to people relate fantastic spiritual experiences and the Spirit has borne witness to each one. I have never, however, been affected by a testimony in quite the same way that I was during that interview in a humble apartment when a simple, refugee housewife said to me, “Yes, teacher, I love Jesus Christ.”

One experience that truly humbled me happened on my mission. I think most missionaries grapple with feelings of inadequacy while trying to bring people to Jesus Christ. On my mission, I spent hours a day just trying to find someone to teach and was rejected over and over. I didn’t feel successful. I didn’t feel that my efforts were enough. Eventually, I began to feel that I was not enough.
While it might not seem like humility was what I needed, when I explained my feelings to my mission president, he helped me see that part of my problem was thinking I was exempt from the problems that missionaries all over the world face. But I am not the first missionary to feel rejected, and I certainly won’t be the last.
Somehow I had convinced myself that my difficulties were entirely my own fault, despite the fact that some of the best missionaries in history—like the original Twelve Apostles, the sons of Mosiah, and Alma the Younger—have faced far worse rejection and persecution than I ever have.
Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I began to be able to feel that I was standing shoulder to shoulder with Jesus Christ in my struggles. And when I felt ashamed of my imperfect efforts, I remembered what President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught: “The Atonement [of Christ] will carry the missionaries perhaps even more importantly than it will carry the investigators. When you struggle, when you are rejected, … you are standing with the best life this world has ever known, the only pure and perfect life ever lived.”
I still look back on this experience when I need to remember to be humble and trust in the Lord.

I remember a road trip with friends during a BYU break. As we were preparing, I was delegated to take our collected funds and buy a box of copies of the Book of Mormon at the BYU Bookstore.

I asked, “What will we do with a whole box of copies of the Book of Mormon?”

My friends said, “We will write our testimonies in each book and share them as we travel.”

And that is what we did. Choose your friends and associates well so you learn by the Spirit things you always want to remember.

Because of who gave me the counsel and its foundation in sound doctrine, I believe it applies to you in your current situation. It came from my grandfather, Harold B. Lee, who was at the time serving as a counselor in the First Presidency of the Church.

I was in my third year at BYU and was struggling with the decision about what to be when I grew up. I was also looking for an eternal companion. I took my patriarchal blessing with me for a visit with grandfather and asked him to read it and then counsel with me about choosing a career. I hoped that somehow the patriarch's inspired blessing would trigger my grandfather to give me a list of career possibilities appropriate for me.

Grandfather read my patriarchal blessing and then looked up at me and said, "Well, that's a wonderful blessing, Alan. I'm impressed that you worry too much about the future." My heart sank. I was indeed worried about the future and the way we were starting out didn't give me much hope for getting straight answers to my questions.

He said, "Let me tell you briefly about my life and then give you the only counsel that I think makes sense given the way life unfolded for me and for others I have observed." He grew up in Clifton, Idaho. It's a little town in southern Idaho. Does anyone here know where Clifton is? It's on the border with Utah near Preston, Idaho, which most of you probably haven't heard of either. He said we always prayed for the "pillars of the Church," by which we meant the Brethren. "I could no more have imagined myself becoming one of them," he said, "than I could think of men landing on the moon, which seemed impossible in those days as well."

"When I came home from a mission," he continued, "farmers in our area, including my father, were really struggling economically and I decided I wanted to learn to do something other than farming to help out. I went to the University of Utah and found that I didn't have enough money to go to school and eat more than one meal a day." So he found some part-time work and then began to work full-time teaching at a local school, enrolling in extension courses and summer school to progress in his studies. When he graduated, his wife thought he could do better outside of education and he got a job selling encyclopedias and other materials throughout the intermountain western U.S. Then the commissioner of streets and public improvements in Salt Lake City died halfway through his two-year term and grandfather was appointed to fill out his term. He then ran for and was elected to his own two-year term.

During this same period of time he was called as stake president of the Pioneer Stake. The Great Depression occurred about the same time and of his 7,300 stake members, over 4,800 were either partially or wholly dependent on outside agencies for their livelihood. A majority of the high councilors and bishops in the stake were unemployed. They "dusted off the revelations," as he put it, and tried to take care of the members of the stake by helping them to band together and help each other.

In 1936 the First Presidency called grandfather to head up the "Church Security" program which soon became the Church Welfare Plan Program. In 1941 he was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve and when I spoke with him in 1971 he was serving in the First Presidency of the Church.

"Alan," he asked me, "do you think I could have planned my career?" He said that if had known what he was headed for he might have been like Jonah and run from these assignments. He went on: "The only counsel that makes sense for me to give is this: Don't live your life worrying about the future. You only have today. You can't do anything about yesterday either except repent or feel good. So here is my counsel about finding a career: Get up each day and recapture your testimony. That is, do the things that bring the spirit into your life: repent, study the scriptures, and pray for guidance. As you feel the enlightenment of the Spirit, consider what you can do that day to follow the impressions you get. Have faith; the Lord will guide you step by step, 'line upon line, here a little and there a little.'"

A friend of mine, Lena Larsen, is a Muslim from Norway. Recently Lena told me she reads the Koran every year during Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting.

“Each time I find something different,” she said, echoing my own view about the value of rereading the Book of Mormon.

During one recent reading she noticed a powerful defense of religious freedom in the story of Noah. We are familiar with Noah and the ark from the Old Testament and Sunday School, but there is a version in the Koran as well. In that telling of the story, Noah had a rebellious son who wouldn’t get on the ark. Even when the rain was falling, his son scrambled up a mountain as the ark floated by, and Noah pled with his son to get on board.

Noah said, “O my son, come aboard with us and be not with the disbelievers.”

The exchange involved an Arabic term that is intimate and endearing: yabunayya, which is a very sweet and caring way of saying “O my son.”

Noah’s son replied, “I will take refuge on a mountain to protect me from the water.”

Noah, Lena said to me sadly, let his son go. “When I read these verses,” she said, “I feel Noah’s pain. As a caring father, he wants the best for his son, but he has to accept that the son chooses his own destiny.” On a personal level, Lena told me, this means that “religious freedom includes the right for every individual to choose freely.”

A few days ago I had the opportunity of being in a radio broadcasting studio in Melbourne, Australia. We were there with President Kimball, as you know, holding area conferences. I was to be interviewed for thirty minutes. As it turned out, Mr. Norman Banks, the radio personality, kept me for an hour. As we conversed and answered phone calls on the air about the Church, I felt again the great blessings and truths of this gospel. I would say to you, “Never doubt that this is the Lord’s work. There are times or situations you are in when you know that the Lord blesses you.” I didn’t know we were going to have a “live” broadcast. I thought I would be interviewed “on tape” and have an opportunity to make corrections if necessary. Then I was informed we were going on the air live, that it was a talk show.
I know that, if we desire, the Lord will magnify us and bless us. I was impressed as this radio program got underway with the clarity of my mind and the calmness that came over me. We all felt the hand of the Lord. I had an opportunity to reply to questions that came in over the telephone: “What is a prophet?” “How is he appointed?” “Are you really an apostle?” “How were you selected?” “What special training or schooling have you had to be called a prophet?” “Why are all of you in Australia?” “Are you concerned what ministers say about your doctrine? You must know that they use some very strong language about you.” “Are you carrying on a dialogue with any other church, hoping to merge with them?” “What do you hope to accomplish in Australia?”
The lights kept flashing on the switchboard as the calls came in. Ninety percent of them were the most positive, wonderful expressions you could imagine. “I’ve just been baptized. My whole life has changed. Thank you, thank you for bringing the Church to Australia,” a voice said. Another voice: “We’re now holding family home evening. Our family is now back together. Thank you for the Church and the prophet coming to Australia.” The radio commentator caught the enthusiasm and the spirit of most of these callers, and when a caller wanted to take issue with me, the commentator said, “You’ve made your point, and you need to develop some love in your heart!” He was on my side! As these episodes were unfolding, I would wonder at times, “Am I saying, am I doing, what I should be? I’m now a special witness of the Lord.”

Thunder clapped and lightning flashed almost constantly outside the cabin window as Louisa Bingham Lee stood kneading a large batch of bread dough on the kitchen table. Beside her was her mother, who was knitting a pair of stockings, and three of Louisa’s children were playing about the room. The Lee children were always fascinated when a powerful thunderstorm rolled through their peaceful valley in Clifton, Idaho, so Louisa propped the front door open so that they could watch the great display of nature’s fireworks.
Louisa began to feel uneasy as she noticed how quickly the thunderclaps followed the lightning flashes—the lightning was striking very close! Six-year-old Harold was playing in the room in front of the open door. Suddenly Louisa dashed over to her son and gave him a vigorous push, sending him backward and onto the floor away from the doorway. An instant later a bolt of lightning flashed down the chimney, across the floor, and out the open doorway, where it split a large tree in front of the house from top to bottom. Had it not been for Louisa’s acting upon inner promptings, Harold B. Lee would not have lived to become the eleventh President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Late one night, we sat with our family doctor in constant vigil over our little boy who lay silently struggling for breath. The hours were long, but rewarding. Not only did the professional assistance of this great individual help to save the life of a precious child, but from him, we came to recognize the kind of human understanding that causes one to give his life in selfless service to others.
It was my wife who broke the silence by asking: “Tell us, Doctor, why is it that you have never sent a bill for any of the help you have given to our family?”
It was evident, by the contemplative pause, that his mind was returning to earlier days. Then, as a tender sadness came over his face, he told the following story:
“Before I was born, my parents migrated from Germany to America. Life was challenging and they had to work hard to provide for us little ones as we came along
“During a diphtheria epidemic, my little sister and I both became very ill. The doctor who came told my parents that he had only enough medicine for one, and that a decision would have to be made.
“For some reason, I received the medication and lived. A couple of days later, my little sister died.
“I still remember my father placing her in the little wooden coffin. The neighbors could only come and look through the window, because we were quarantined and everyone was terribly afraid of the contagion.
“I was so small that father had to lift me up to see over that crude little coffin and look upon the face of my childhood playmate for the last time in this mortal existence. Then father went out, got up on the wagon seat, tenderly lifted the coffin onto his lap, and rode away, all alone, to the nearby cemetery.
“Years later, after completing my first month of medical practice, my nurse prepared bills for all my patients. As I saw them sitting there on the desk, that childhood memory passed before me. I remembered also how my parents had later paid the doctor with potatoes and other produce. I asked myself, as I had often asked before: ‘Why was my life preserved instead of hers?’ With that question still on my lips, I swept the stack of bills into the wastebasket and told my nurse that we would keep good records on the books and if people wished to pay me, they would do so; but we would not follow the usual practice of billing patients.”
When the doctor had finished, there was silence as we pondered. How refreshing it was to be in the presence of one who had truly succeeded in placing service ahead of self!
The Savior was willing, not only to lay down his life for his friends, but also to give himself in service to them while he lived. We sat that night with one who served even as the Master. We were healed physically. Spiritually, we were loved, understood, taught, encouraged, and fed by this wonderful teacher and friend.

Last year my stake took the youth to Martin’s Cove. Each participant was to trek in the name of either a rescuer or a handcart pioneer. Part of our preparation was to learn as much as we could about their experience. Our goal was to “walk in their footsteps.” Through my research I discovered that two of my great-grandfather’s brothers had been involved in this pioneer tragedy. Moses Cluff, who had just returned from a mission to England, joined the Hodgett Wagon Company that accompanied the Willie and Martin Handcart Companies. His younger brother, Harvey Cluff, who was only 20 years old, was one of the “valley boys” who formed the first wave of rescuers to meet up with the stranded pioneers. As I learned about their experiences, one interesting detail stood out. Harvey’s history reads:
[The] raging blizzard from the north compelled the relief party to seek shelter some miles down the river where the growth of willows was dense enough to break the force of the wind and afford shelter to animals and some protection to the camp. While encamped in this retired spot, three miles from the road, Harvey was called upon by the captain to take a sign board to the road, in case there were any who might pass along the road and thereby miss the camp. . . . In a few hours after the board was up, two men, Captain Willie and his companion, rode horseback into camp. . . . These two men, without bedding, could not have survived through the night, had they not been directed to the relief camp by the sign board.
Harvey’s obedience and willingness to make the appropriate sacrifice of self not only saved Captain Willie and his companion but facilitated the rescue of all those who were stranded along the trail.

I have repeated that pattern many times in my life. For example, when I had the opportunity to play professional football in the National Football League, I turned again to prayer for guidance. I asked Heavenly Father for help because I was the only member of the Church on the team, and I knew I needed to be able to work with my teammates and to get along with them. I received the answer that I should tell them what I believe in and that everything would be OK.
When I let my teammates know about my beliefs, they began to understand and have respect for my standards. In many cases they wanted to know more, and I found the answers to their questions by studying the scriptures. These friends were always there to support and encourage me.

I was a young bishop when I began to see clearly why the Lord wants us to strengthen children when they are young and rescue them quickly. I will tell you one story of a young person who represents many whom I have tried to help over the years.
She sat across from me at my bishop’s desk. She spoke to me of her life. She had been baptized and confirmed as a member of the Church when she was eight. There were no tears in her eyes as she recounted the more than 20 years that followed, but there was sadness in her voice. She said that the downward spiral began with choices to associate with what she thought were exciting people. She began to violate what at first seemed to be less important commandments.
She felt at first a little sadness and a twinge of guilt. But the associations with her friends provided a new feeling of being liked, and so her occasional resolutions to repent seemed less and less important. As the gravity of the commandments she was breaking increased, the dream of a happy eternal home seemed to fade.
She sat across from me in what she called misery. She wanted me to rescue her from the trap of sin in which she found herself bound. But the only way out was for her to exercise faith in Jesus Christ, to have a broken heart, to repent, and so be cleansed, changed, and strengthened through the Lord’s Atonement. I bore my testimony to her that it was still possible. And it was, but so much harder than it would have been to exercise faith early in her life on the journey home to God and when she first began to wander.

In 1993, I was married and had one child. One day at work, a secretary took a Book of Mormon to the office, placed it near a glass, and left it. She did not tell me what the book was about, but I was curious. I decided to keep the book. Around the same time, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints started visiting my mother. One day, while visiting her house, the missionaries knocked on her door, and I happened to answer it. As we visited, they asked if they could see my family too. My spouse and I agreed.
At our first meeting, I was surprised to learn that this religion had a book called the Book of Mormon. It contained over a thousand years of history and told the story of Jesus Christ coming to the Americas, paralleling the time period of the Bible. I read the entire book in four days and felt immense joy. I knew with certainty that it was the book I longed for, that God and Jesus Christ loved everyone, even those of us who live in the Americas.

Others were called upon to speak, and near the close of the meeting, the president suggested that I take the remainder of the time. “Have you had any inspiration?” I asked. He said that he kept thinking of the mayor. (The voters in that large city had elected a member of the Church to be mayor, and he was in attendance.) When I told him we could have a greeting from the mayor, he whispered that the man was not active in the Church. When I suggested that he call upon him anyway, he resisted, saying flatly that he was not worthy to speak in that meeting. At my insistence, however, he called the man to the stand.

The mayor’s father had been a pioneer of the Church in that region. He had served as bishop of one of the wards and had been succeeded by one of his sons—a twin to the mayor, as I recall. The mayor was the lost sheep. He came to the pulpit and spoke, to my surprise, with bitterness and with hostility. His talk began something like this: “I don’t know why you called on me. I don’t know why I am in church today. I don’t belong in church. I have never fit in. I don’t agree with the way the Church does things.”

I confess that I began to worry, but he then paused and lowered his eyes to the pulpit. From then until his talk was over, he did not look up. After hesitating, he continued: “I guess I just as well tell you. I quit smoking six weeks ago.” Then, shaking his fist in a gesture over his head towards the congregation, he said, “If any of you think that’s easy, you have never suffered the hell I have suffered in the last few weeks.”

Then he just melted. “I know the gospel is true,” he said. “I’ve always known it was true. I learned that from my mother as a boy.

“I know the Church isn’t out of order,” he confessed. “It’s me that’s out of order, and I’ve always known that too.”

Then he spoke perhaps for all of the lost sheep when he pleaded: “I know it’s me that is wrong, and I want to come back. I have been trying to come back, but you won’t let me!”

Of course we would let him come back, but somehow we hadn’t let him know that. After the meeting the congregation flooded up—not to us but to him to say, “Welcome home!”

On the way to the airport after conference, the stake president said to me, “I’ve learned a lesson today.”

Hoping to confirm it, I said, “If we had done what you wanted to do, you would have called on this man’s father, wouldn’t you, or perhaps his brother, the bishop?”

He nodded in affirmation and said: “Either of them, given 5 minutes, would have presented a stirring 15- or 20-minute sermon to the approval of all in attendance. But no lost sheep would have been reclaimed.”

One of your friends has use of the family car. In a few minutes it is packed with six young people, all active in the Church. Merely riding around doesn’t seem to furnish enough excitement or challenge. Someone suggests that it would be a good Halloween trick to harass a local restaurant owner. Two of them enter the restaurant while the others wait in the car. Suddenly they come running out with a pizza—unpaid for. They scamper into the car and a getaway is attempted. There is that grizzly bear again. Wouldn’t it be easier for you to cast the fingerlings into the bushes than to utter a silent prayer for sufficient courage to speak up and put a stop to the whole affair?

A few years ago Sister Jolley and I concluded an assignment where I presided over a mission in south Texas. Our missionaries there wholeheartedly embraced the “balanced effort” concept of missionary work, which includes finding, teaching, baptizing, and doing everything possible to retain new converts, and spending several hours each week working with less-active members. Our missionaries, like all missionaries throughout the world, were great kingdom builders.

When my wife and I returned to our home ward in Idaho, I was determined to practice what I preached in the mission field. I therefore asked the bishop to assign me as a home teacher to some of our wonderful families who were not enjoying the blessings of full activity in the Church. He quickly obliged by assigning me to six of these special families.

After several visits to one of these families, I challenged the father, who had been inactive for almost 40 years, to become fully active in the Church and to participate in the temple preparation classes. He responded, “These kinds of things are more than I can understand; they are way over my head.” I was troubled by his response and felt bad that he did not think he could embrace the gospel because it was too difficult to understand. But I knew that the truths of the gospel are for everyone and that everyone can understand them through earnest prayer and scripture study. So our next few home teaching visits were spent talking about the simple and beautiful things of the gospel.

With patience and persistence our visits became more enjoyable and more spiritual. We developed a genuine friendship. As time went on, it became apparent that he could and did understand the principles of the gospel. This made his wife very happy. They grew closer in their marriage. They are now attending church regularly, becoming good friends with all members, and preparing to go to the temple. We had similar experiences with other families. The Lord blesses us as well as these wonderful families when we put forth the extra effort to share these simple truths with them.