Gospel Story Finder

It was an ill-fated, watermelon-selling trip to Alaska that exhausted all my hard-saved college fund, so I got a job as a graveyard-shift fry cook at a Provo diner. That was my first year at BYU.
I had taken a room, and the rent came due at the beginning of the month. But I didn’t make enough money to pay both my tithing and my rent. This caused me great concern. I desperately wanted to continue my education, yet I knew I should pay my tithing. Knowing I would receive greater assistance from my Father in heaven if I were faithful, I paid my tithing and awaited the day my rent would come due.
The day prior to the rent due date, my landlady, Sister Knight, asked me if my cousin and I would be willing to trim a large tree in her backyard in return for a month’s rent. Gratefully, I accepted.
The following month, I again paid my tithing immediately after receiving my check. I paid for my food and other school expenses, but found I was without sufficient funds to pay my rent. Once again, the day before the rent was due, Sister Knight asked me if we would be willing to chop the large tree in her backyard into firewood in return for another month’s rent.
For the next couple of months I was able to pay all of my expenses after paying my tithing. Then came another month when there was again not enough money to cover both rent and tithing. I paid my tithing. I knew that Sister Knight did not have any more trees to be cut, and I was concerned that I should pay the rent promptly. On the Friday evening before the rent was required, a local radio station in Provo announced a program called “Movie Merry-Go-Round” in which a prize would be offered to anyone who could answer questions regarding one of the movies then playing in Provo. I listened to the program and thought I might try to win the prize. That evening, the radio announcer offered $18 and two free movie tickets to the first person who could give the license number of a car that had been used in a brief scene in a recent movie. Miraculously, or at least so it seemed to me, I saw clearly in my mind’s eye the scene that the radio announcer referred to. I saw it with such clarity that I could read the license number. Once again I had sufficient funds to pay my rent.
As that first school year drew to a close, I again found myself without enough money to pay my tithing and my last month’s rent. I paid the tithing, hoping to find some extra work I could do somewhere to earn money. I was concerned because my already busy schedule did not provide much in the way of extra time, and I did not want to be late in paying Sister Knight. The day that my rent was due, there was a knock at my door. When I opened the door, Don Wood, a member of the BYU football team, was standing in the doorway. He handed me an envelope that he told me he had received earlier that evening from his father, President Charles W. Wood, then first counselor in the Union Oregon Stake presidency. President Wood had asked Don to deliver the envelope to me. Don had said he would be seeing me at school the following Monday or Tuesday, but President Wood had replied, “No, you take it to him tonight. As my plane was landing in Boise, I was impressed that Jim needed some help. I think he needs it now, and I want you to deliver this envelope to him tonight.”
I had never spoken to President Wood nor, to the best of my memory, to Sister Knight or any other person concerning my lack of funds. As the oldest of seven children from a very poor family, I had always been aware I could not expect any financial assistance from my family. The experiences I had already had my first year at BYU had greatly solidified my testimony of tithing.
Recalling all this in my mind, I thanked Don for delivering the message and envelope. Slowly I opened it; inside was $20.

Many years ago, when I was called as a bishop, I had a desire for the bishopric to visit those who were less active in the Church and see if there was anything we could do to bring the blessings of the gospel into their lives.
One day we visited a man in his 50s who was a respected mechanic. He told me the last time he had been to church was when he was a young boy. Something had happened that day. He had been acting up in class and was being noisier than he should when his teacher became angry, pulled him out of class, and told him not to come back.
He never did.
It was remarkable to me that an unkind word spoken more than four decades earlier could have had such a profound effect. But it had. And, as a consequence, this man had never returned to church. Neither had his wife or children.
I apologized to him and expressed my sorrow that he had been treated that way. I told him how unfortunate it was that one word spoken in haste, and so long ago, could have the effect of excluding his family from the blessings that come from Church activity.
“After 40 years,” I told him, “it’s time the Church made things right.”
I did my best to do so. I reassured him that he was welcome and needed. I rejoiced when this man and his family eventually returned to church and became strong and faithful members. In particular, this good brother became an effective home teacher because he understood how something as small as an unkind word could have consequences that extend throughout a lifetime and perhaps beyond.

I have a brother named Matt.
I always thought of my younger brother as competition. When he was a baby, I played games in which points were earned if I could make him cry. In all those years of punching, growing, and playing I never realized he’d get bigger than me. But Matt knew, and he savored the day when his physical attributes could overcome his tyrannical older sister.
In time Matt did outgrow me, but in more ways than height and strength.
Matt and I attended the same high school, and with only a year’s difference between us, we were often placed in the same classes. We pretended not to know each other. Our public arguing brought out our stubborn personalities for all to see, and teachers who had a class with both Marriotts seemed to contemplate early retirement.
So when I announced I intended to run for student-body president, Matt flew into an understandable rage. “You’re going to humiliate me!” he yelled, rolling his eyes.
In the weeks that followed, I had campaign parties, made posters, and handed out candy with my name boldly printed on it. All too soon, the day for the speeches arrived. I left my class early and placed a flyer on each chair in the auditorium. I was alone when my brother burst in with a gang of his friends.
“Oh, no,” I thought. “Not now.”
But Matt had other ideas. He walked up to me, patted me on the back, and said, “You can do it, Paige.” I felt like a prize fighter. But for once I wasn’t going to fight my brother. He was in my corner helping.
Later, when the speeches were completed, and the flyers and crumpled candy wrappers remained where students once sat, I started to clean up the mess. After my speech I was nervous and desperately needed some reassurance. Then Matt reappeared. He grabbed a handful of garbage and stuffed it into the sack I was holding.
“Paige.” He placed his arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay if you embarrassed the family name. I’ll still vote for you.” It was his way of saying I did all right.
It was an act of kindness I will never forget. As we stood in the auditorium that afternoon, I realized my brother had outgrown me in many ways, and one of them was love.

One night, while serving as a youth leader in my ward, I arrived at the church and was not surprised to find a group of young men playing basketball in the gym while they waited for opening exercises to begin. I was surprised, however, to see David. He was relatively new in the ward but had already demonstrated that attending Church-related activities was not a normal part of his routine. Coming to a Young Men activity was a big step.
David did a pretty good job of quietly easing into the group without being noticed—that is, until the basketball rebounded off the rim and went straight at him. He caught the ball and realized it was his turn to take a shot. He dribbled a few times and clumsily threw the ball up toward the hoop. It banged hard off the bottom of the rim and came right back at him, hitting him on the arms he had put up to protect his head. Everyone laughed, and so did David.
The ball then went into the hands of another boy, who mockingly imitated David’s awkward shot. As before, most of the boys laughed, but this time David was not laughing. He had come to be a part of his priests quorum but had become the brunt of their laughter.
David turned to the exit and walked out.
My heart broke for David. I was not sure what to do, but I knew I needed to try anything to get him to stay. I followed David out the door, trying to think of something to say that might help him have the courage to come back.
As I was walking after David, I was surprised to see Dennis, one of the other priests, run past me and put his arm around David. I do not know what he said, but Dennis must have been inspired, for David’s heart was softened and he hesitantly, but willingly, turned around and came back into the church. It was a wonderful moment.

[Sister Owen] It wasn't obvious at the time, but now we can both clearly see the Lord's wisdom in prompting Steve to return to Ricks--and I am thankful to be married to a man who follows such promptings. By that time, I had graduated from Ricks College, but it just so happened that my sister Patricia was living in Rexburg. She has always been a stabilizing influence in my life, so I found myself visiting her often. Coincidentally, this allowed Steve and me to see each other more often. To make a long story short, by the end of the year, Steve and I were married. And at the end of Steve's fourth semester, our first child was born.
Those were sweet, happy days--but they were also lean days. We were poor as newlyweds, trying to live on $15 per week. One of Steve's coaches used to leave two gallons of milk from his cows on our doorstep. Acts of kindness like that kept us fed physically, and there were just as many loving friends and mentors who kept us fed spiritually--people like Patricia; Sister Blakely, my dance coach; President Eyring, who was the president of Ricks when we began our studies; and many others.

A few years ago, right before Christmas, I had a stake conference assignment in California. On the flight back to Utah, I decided to take a short nap. My seat was C, near the aisle. Just before the cabin door closed, a beautiful lady in her mid-70s stood beside me and said, “May I have my seat?” I said, “Yes, ma’am.” That was the end of my nap. She loved to talk.
She said, “I don’t know why I should have to fly to a cold place like Utah at Christmastime to visit my grandchildren. I hate to leave sunny California.”
She went on to say, “Besides, there are strange and weird people in Utah. They call themselves ‘Mormons.’ My daughter married one of them.”
I said, “I am sorry, but before you go any further, I should tell you that I am one of them.”
Then she said, “I am sorry—I didn’t mean that.”
I said, “Oh, you really meant that, didn’t you?”
Our conversation went on until we were above Provo. We knew we would soon be landing in Salt Lake.
“Patti”—that’s her name—“you have been talking for most of the flight. I feel like I have known you from the pre-earth life. Before we land in Salt Lake City, I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may.”
I asked her sincerely, “Patti, your deceased husband—do you know you can see him again?”
She said, “Oh, is that possible?”
“Do you know your deceased son, Matt, who died as a baby—you will see him also in the future?”
Her eyes became moist, and her voice was shaking. The Spirit of the Lord touched her. I sensed she had missed them so much.
Then I prayerfully asked her, “Patti, do you know you have a loving and kind Heavenly Father, who loves you so dearly?”
She said, “Do I?”
“Patti, do you know your Heavenly Father has a special plan for you and that your family can be forever?”
“Can we?” she replied.
“Have you ever heard the plan before?”
She said, “No.”
Very sincerely I asked her, “Would you like to know about it?”
“Yes, I would,” she responded.
The Spirit of the Lord touched her deeply. And the Lord promises us, “For mine elect hear my voice and harden not their hearts.” He also said: “I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep. … My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”
Before we came to this earth, our Heavenly Father gently and peacefully placed in our bosoms “the love of God.” In Heavenly Father’s eyes, you are a very special child. My friend Patti has the spark of divinity in her soul. When Patti heard the word of Heavenly Father, she was touched deeply and she responded to His voice.
We were total strangers, but the Lord placed one of His precious daughters quietly next to me. I was praying earnestly that the Spirit of the Lord would touch her and speak to her.
The missionaries taught Patti. Three weeks later, while she was staying in Utah, Patti called me: “Brother Kikuchi, this is Patti. I am going to be baptized. Would you come to my baptism services?”
My wife and I went to her baptism. Many members were kindly fellowshipping her. Oh, I shall never forget her joyful countenance as she came out of the water!
I shall never forget her sweet tears at the sacred altar in the Salt Lake Temple a year later. I remember her peaceful and celestial glow when she was sealed to her deceased husband and son and living daughter who had become a member of the Church. She now knows her family is forever in the Lord. My friend Patti Louise Donaldson found the Lord Jesus Christ. Now she lives in Utah.

“Bonnie Skinner, the bishop’s daughter, was in one of my classes at school,” Tracie says. “She kept inviting me to church dances. One night I finally went. I stayed overnight at her house, and the next day her family invited me to church. I felt the Spirit there, and I felt loved. The people here are really friendly, and that helped a lot. I met the missionaries and started the discussions. I knew I should pray about what they were teaching me. When I did, a peace came over me. I knew I needed to be baptized.”

Dad’s dependable ranch hand, Dick, had already disappeared with the snowplow behind the thick curtain of moving snow when Ellie Ford went outside. The low hay sled was loaded with timothy hay, and two teams were hitched to it.

“Come on, Sis!” Ellie’s ten-year-old brother, Wes, called. “I’ll help you up!”

Wes scrambled to the top of the hay and reached down a hand to Ellie. He laughed as she struggled up the ladder of the rack. Wes’s round, freckled face between the earflaps of his red woolen cap beamed cheerfully.

How can he be so cheerful? Ellie wondered. It’s Christmas Day, and we’re stuck here on the ranch playing nursemaids to a bunch of silly cattle instead of being at Grandmother’s.

Wes moved the teams expertly out of the barnyard and down the lane between the sapling maple trees.

It was the Ford family’s first year at ranching, and Ellie thought again of the changes that had been made in their lives. In the city they had been surrounded by friends and relatives. But here in the sandhills, their nearest neighbor lived ten miles away.

The snowstorm had begun two days ago when they were dismissed from school for Christmas vacation. The wind-driven pellets had made a pinging sound against the school bus as it chugged along toward the crossroads where Ellie and Wes were the last to get off. By the time they had reached home, the corn snow had turned into huge fluffy flakes.

Ellie had known that something was wrong when her father came in from the living room that night at suppertime looking anxiously at first one member of his family and then another. Finally he announced to them after the blessing was said, “There’s a blizzard predicted for the sandhills, and I’ve decided I’d better stay here on the ranch.”

The announcement was greeted with gasps and exclamations.

“But that doesn’t mean that the rest of you can’t go!” he hurried to say. “It’s just that Dick will need help so the trails can be kept open to the feed shelters. Those cattle mean a lot to our future.”

“I’ll stay too!” Wes cried, not hesitating an instant.

“You’ll need someone to stay and cook for you,” Mother told them. “But Ellie can still go down to Grandmother’s tomorrow on the train from Cody. She’s been planning on it since Thanksgiving.”

Ellie knew that they had all been planning on it. She knew, too, that no matter how badly she wanted to go, she just couldn’t. “Maybe I can help somehow,” she finally managed to say, fighting the hard lump in her throat.

“That’s what I hoped for!” Father had exclaimed approvingly. “A solid front! And I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

But Ellie didn’t see how he could make up for a spoiled Christmas.

Now as the feed shelter loomed in front of them through the falling snow, Ellie asked, “Wes, do you think we’ll be snowed in?”

Wes grinned and guided the teams under the shelter before he answered, “I hope so!”

“Why, Wes Ford! Do you mean you’d rather be here than at Grandmother’s?”

“I would rather be at Grandmother’s, Ellie,” Wes replied, “but Christmas can be Christmas wherever you are.”

Though he was just a year older than Ellie, Wes sounded quite grownup. His words made Ellie feel a quick shame for her complaining thoughts. They had just picked up their pitchforks when Wes suddenly frowned. “Sis, some of the cattle are missing!” he declared.

“Could they be at the other shelters?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe. But maybe they’re not. Do you remember what Dick and Dad said about the river fence?” Wes asked thoughtfully.

Ellie shook her head.

“They said that it was strong enough for ordinary weather, but if those cattle got lost in a blinding snowstorm, they could go right through it and end up in White River!”

“We’re not going over to the river to see if they’re there!” Ellie protested.

“I’m going,” Wes told her. “Dick can’t leave that snowplow, and Dad’s on the other wagon with the concentrate.”

“Well, I’ll go with you then,” Ellie recanted.

When the hay had been pitched off into the feeders, they started out on foot. Ellie’s feet soon grew numb from the bitter cold, and her legs began to protest against the constant effort to push onward up another hill. There was no horizon, only the dull white sky and the white earth and the eternal falling of the snow.

There were no trees to use as guideposts, only the rise and fall of the blanketed hills. “Just a little farther, Sis,” Wes encouraged her, beating his arms against his body.

Now and then, Wes looked anxiously at the sky, and Ellie was sure that despite his cheerfulness, he realized the danger of being lost. But the thought of the cattle in danger kept him going.

They had reached the top of another rise, and Ellie was telling herself that she just could not go up another hill when Wes shouted with relief, “There’s the river!”

He rushed down the hill, and Ellie tried to hurry after him. “There they are! And look, Sis, they’re hugging that fence!”

There were more than twenty head reluctant to leave the protection of the trees. Ellie remembered apprehensively that they were range cattle and that they were used to men on horseback. She held back her fright as she helped Wes start them moving.

When they finally reached the shelter again, Ellie flung herself down on the hay sled and decided that she had never been so tired and cold in her life. Only after the cattle were safe and munching hay did Wes suggest they drink the hot chocolate their mother had put in a thermos bottle.

“Let’s hurry home, Wes,” Ellie said. “It’s nearly two o’clock.”

But Wes was looking down the hill toward the road. “Sis,” he said, “there’s a car down there. Looks like it’s in trouble.”

When they had finished their chocolate, the car was still there. “I’m going down and see if I can give them a hand,” Wes declared.

“Oh, Wes,” moaned Ellie. “We’ve already ruined our Christmas. The snowplow will come along soon …”

Wes didn’t answer, but Ellie saw the determined look in his blue eyes as he started away. Feeling sorry for herself, she reluctantly waded after him. The figures in the road had been trying to dig out their car when Wes and Ellie reached the fence.

“Hi, there!” the man shouted, looking up and waving his arm.

“Why, it’s Dr. Davis, Wes! And his nurse Mary!” Ellie exclaimed in surprise.

Wes and Ellie climbed over the fence.

“Hello, Wes. Hello, Ellie,” Mary said. “I thought we’d never see civilization again. Dr. Davis’s car doesn’t like snow.”

“Well,” Wes offered, “I’m not a mechanic, but I have a sled and teams up there at the shelter—”

Mary didn’t let him finish. She grabbed Ellie’s arm and they started for the fence.

Dr. Davis chuckled as he locked the car. “We’ve been over at the Anderson ranch since last night. They have a new six-pound girl. And we were trying to get home for Christmas dinner.”

Ellie heard Dr. Davis as she helped Mary over the fence. Her eyes caught sight of the gold bars on the turned-up collar of Mary’s heavy navy blue cape.

Suddenly Ellie thought of all the other people in the world who, like Dr. Davis and Mary, could not always be just where they wanted to be at Christmastime. But that didn’t mean that Christmas was lost! It couldn’t be, as long as people carry the spirit of Christmas in their hearts.

And Ellie understood now what that spirit was. Wes had taught her today, here in the snow-covered sandhills, much about loving and unselfish concern for others.

I’m going to give Mary the knitted bed cape I made for Grandmother! Ellie decided as the teams and hay sled headed for the ranch house a few minutes later. I’m sure Grandmother will understand!

With an angry mob of more than 300 promising to destroy them in the morning, the group of Saints who made up Zion’s Camp was hoping and praying for a miracle.
Under Joseph Smith’s leadership, Zion’s Camp had been marching for weeks from Ohio to Missouri. These Church members were hoping to help the Saints who had been driven out of Jackson County, Missouri, USA, to regain their lands. But they faced threats and opposition throughout their march. And now, yet another mob was threatening them.
The miracle that the Zion’s Camp Saints prayed for would soon arrive. It came in the form of dark clouds gathering in the distance. A violent thunderstorm erupted on all sides and dumped massive hailstones. The storm stopped the mob in its tracks.
“It seemed as if the mandate of vengeance had gone forth from the God of battles to protect his servants from the destruction of their enemies,” Joseph Smith’s history explains. “The hail fell on them, and not on us, and we suffered no harm except the blowing down of some of our tents and getting some wet, while our enemies had holes made in their hats and otherwise received damage, even the breaking of their rifle stocks and the fleeing of their horses.”1
Destructive hailstones were just one part of the storm. Rain poured down so hard that Fishing River, the river separating the two groups, swelled to almost 40 feet (12 meters) deep. It had only been ankle deep in the morning.
The Lord promised the members of Zion’s Camp, “I will fight your battles” (Doctrine and Covenants 105:14). When that happens, there’s no doubt which side is going to win.

To illustrate how to use this tool, I am going to tell you about a situation where I used it in a non-business setting. When my son was in third grade, I believe, I was asked to coach his community league basketball team because they had a few more boys than they expected and needed one more coach for these boys. These were not the boys who were fought over by the other coaches. They were the ones who for one reason or another signed up late and needed a coach. I called a practice and had the boys just shoot around for the first five or 10 minutes so I could see what I had to work with.

As I watched, I became a little concerned. They made almost no shots, they weren't even being guarded, and I could see that they weren't very tall. They couldn't dribble the ball very well either. All I could see was weaknesses. I thought, "This is going to be a long season." I wondered why I ever agreed to coach this team. But I had agreed to coach them, so I tried hard to look for strengths. Eventually I noticed a few of the boys were quite quick, which was about the only strength I could find.

At this point, I had a long list of weaknesses and only one strength, so mentally I turned to the opportunities and threats part of the tool. I had to go on my knowledge of and assumptions about the other teams. I was sure many of the other boys could shoot much better (a threat) and had to be taller (another threat), but I was also sure that at that age, they couldn't dribble the ball too well. There was my opportunity. We could capitalize on their inability to handle the ball. I decided to match our quickness strength with the lack of ball handling ability of the other teams to come up with a strategy. In practice, we focused almost entirely on stealing the ball, dribbling it down the court, and making layups. The zone defense we used was one designed to steal the ball, but it wasn't very good if the other team got the ball into the middle to the "big" players.

We worked on other areas of the game minimally but mostly focused those three things--stealing the ball, dribbling, and making layups. As it turned out, our boys did quite well. When the other team passed half court, our boys went into "attack mode." More often than not, they stole the ball, dribbled down court, and missed their layup. But sometimes they made it. This little team of vertically challenged boys who couldn't shoot too well won all their games but one. They took what they had, matched it with attractive opportunities, and made the best of their basketball season.

“I can’t go to church on Sunday!”
Jene looked up in surprise when she heard those words coming from her older brother, Rolf. On Rolf’s feet were shoes that were too worn out to wear anymore. His toes stuck out from under torn leather. Ragged ends of broken shoelaces dangled uselessly. These were the only shoes Rolf had.
“I can’t walk around in these anymore,” he said. “And I can’t go to church or to town without shoes.” He flopped down on the floor and rested his chin in his hands.
Mother walked over to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a jar. The children knew what was in that jar—tithing money.
Holding out a few dollar bills, Mother said: “This is all the money I have. It’s enough to pay tithing on what your father was paid the last time he found work.” They all stared at it for a minute, and then she added, “It would be enough to buy shoes, but I can’t do both.”
She put the money back in the jar and sat down at the kitchen table. “I need to think about this for a while,” she said.
For a long time the children played quietly, trying not to disturb their mother while she sat at the table. Finally, she stood up and walked toward the door. “I don’t know what Rolf will do for shoes,” she said quietly. “But I’ll feel better if our tithing is paid. I’ll go take the money down to the bishop’s house right now,” she said.
Jene ran out the door behind her. “Can I go too?” she asked.
“Yes, come along if you want,” Mother said.
Jene and her mother silently walked the six blocks to the bishop’s house. As they reached the door, her mother took the money out of her pocket and looked at it one more time. Jene saw the worried look on her mother’s face.
“Come in, come in,” Bishop Johnson said, smiling at them. He shook Jene’s hand and thanked her mother when she handed him the money. Then he said, “I know it’s not easy sometimes to pay tithing, but the Lord blesses us when we do.”
On their way home, Jene and her mother saw their neighbor Mrs. Colgrove coming out her front door. She waved for them to come over to her front gate. As they got closer, Mrs. Colgrove held out a pair of leather shoes to Jene’s mother.
“I’ve been meaning to bring these over to you,” she said. “I thought maybe one of your children could use them.”
Mother looked at the shoes with amazement. Jene clapped her hands happily as she realized they looked very close to the size Rolf needed.
Finally Mother was able to speak. “Thank you … thank you so much,” she said, rubbing the soft leather.
Jene took off running toward home. Bursting through the kitchen door she shouted: “Rolf, Rolf! You have new shoes!”
Rolf jumped up, looking puzzled. Jene pointed outside to their mother who was walking into the yard holding the shoes. Soon Mother was explaining to Rolf where the shoes had come from.
Rolf quickly put them on and marched around the room to show how well they fit. Picking up the old pair of raggedy shoes from the floor, he said, “Now we can dump these in the garbage where they belong!”
“Oh no,” Mother said, taking the shoes out of his hands. “These are very special shoes,” she said. “They need to be kept in a special place.”
Jene and Rolf followed her to her bedroom and watched as she opened a big wooden chest.
“Why would you want to put those old shoes in there?” Jene asked.
With a tear in her eye, Mother answered: “These shoes need to be kept forever. Whenever we look at them we’ll remember that the Lord blesses us when we pay our tithing.”
Jene and Rolf grew up and had children and homes of their own. When their mother died, Jene was given the wooden trunk full of special things. The shoes are still in there and are taken out from time to time so that children and grandchildren can hear the story about the lesson learned long ago from a pair of old, worn-out shoes.

Just the other day, we met a girl about your age who had never heard of God. It was very hot and sticky, so my companion and I were glad to go inside an apartment building when we knocked on doors to try to tell people about the Church.
We met Ina’s mother first, but as we talked outside the door with her in Russian, Ina poked her head out and stared at us with big blue eyes. She was amazed that we spoke her native language. When her mother explained how busy they were and said that she just didn’t have time to hear about Bog (God), we were disappointed. We really want to tell people about Heavenly Father, and no one had wanted to listen that day.
Then Ina gave us hope. As we left, she asked, “Did Bog send you here?”
I told her, “Yes,” and we smiled at each other.
Later, as my companion and I left another apartment down the block, discouraged because we had just finished a discussion with people who wouldn’t believe God existed, Ina came roller-skating by. “What are you still doing here?” she asked.
“We’re telling people about Bog.”
“Who’s Bog?”
I’d forgotten that she’d grown up in Russia and didn’t know anything about Him. “Bog is the Father of your spirit, and you are His daughter,” I told her.
“His daughter?”
“Yes.” My companion and I explained. “Tyee deetya Boga (You are a child of God). In fact, we all are children of Bog—everyone on earth is brothers and sisters.”
Ina giggled. “Then that means that my mom is my sister. That’s funny!”
“You’re right—she is your sister.” We continued, “And Bog loves all of us, just as your parents love you.”
“Where is Bog? How come I don’t see Him?”
“Bog is in nyeba (heaven), and you might not see Him, but He’s there, and you can talk to Him.”
“I can talk to Him?”
We explained to Ina about moleetva (prayer). We told her that she could really talk to Heavenly Father just like she talks to her mom and dad and that when she did, she would feel good inside.
“But how will I know that Bog listens to me?”
“How do you feel when you help your mom?” we asked.
“Well, … good. … Sort of warm.”
“That is how Bog tells you that what you are doing is good and that He is happy with you. You’ll have that same feeling when you pray.”
Ina wanted to know how we knew about Bog. We told her that we had prayed to know if He really existed and was our Father and that He had answered our prayers. We added that He spoke to men called prorokee (prophets) and that when they told us about Bog, we felt warm and good inside then, too.
“Someone has seen Bog?” Ina was excited.
“Yes, Ina, prorokee have seen Bog. They talk to Him and tell us what He says.”
“Why can’t I see Bog?”
“Do you know what?” we said. “You did see Him. You lived with Him before you came to earth, and you will see Him again when you die.”
Ina was really thinking hard. “I want to see Bog again!”
“Do you know how you can do that, Ina—how you can live with Him again? You can start now by being nice to everyone and doing kind things for them. You can also pray to Him and help your mom and dad pray to Him.”
“I’m going to!” she exclaimed. With determination in her stride, she skated down the street toward her home. Suddenly she stopped and called back, “Can I pray by the window?”
“Yes, you can pray anywhere, anytime,” we assured her.
“I’m going home to pray right now!”
We didn’t get in any more doors that day, but three days later, we ran into Ina again. When she saw us, she grabbed our hands and exclaimed, “It’s my seostra (sisters)!”
We asked if she had prayed, and she nodded. “How did you feel?” we asked.
“Warm!” she said. “Good!”
Sara, sometimes missionary work gets frustrating, and I begin to be discouraged. Then I think about Ina and about what the Savior said to the Nephites: “Ye must … become as a little child.”* Heavenly Father is real. He loves us, and He answers our prayers. I want you to know that I love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I know that They love me and that They love you, too. Thank you for praying for the missionaries. We need your prayers.
Please pray for Ina, too.

An experience I had with my Aaronic Priesthood quorum was on a Scout outing. We were sitting around a fire with my wonderful Scoutmaster, who was also the assistant deacons quorum adviser. A couple of guys who were not active in the Church were looking at some pornographic material.

The Scoutmaster stopped as he was talking to the Scouts and asked if he could have the magazine. He closed it and then told us how hurt he was, how troubled he was. Then he testified of the power of the priesthood when we honor it. He handed the magazine back, and that young man threw it in the fire.

That Scoutmaster taught us by the power of the Spirit about the priesthood. Of all the lessons I’ve had in quorums and chapels, I am still impressed by that experience.

Paying lobola is meant to demonstrate how valued the bride is by both her family and the man she intends to marry. It symbolizes a union between families. So, throughout our lives, we had always strived to be respectful, successful, intelligent women. We wanted to make our family proud and pay them back for raising us well.
But in 2014, when we were both in early young adulthood, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, then serving as Second Counselor in the First Presidency, came to speak to the members in Africa. We felt the pure love that God has for each of us as he spoke. However, during his talk, he taught that the tradition of lobola was no longer in line with the gospel. He discouraged the practice, saying: “The consequences of [bride price] are manifold and lead to behavior that is unbecoming for a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. … The Lord’s way is the real path to bring families together forever.”3
Our entire culture takes part in this custom, and we always expected to as well, so we were puzzled after his message.
Our first thoughts were humorous: “We did not work this hard to not get any cows!”
But truly, we were confused. If Heavenly Father didn’t want us to practice this tradition anymore, when most people in our culture refuse marriage without lobola, how could we follow Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and respect our culture and family? The gospel already seemed peculiar to our family members who weren’t part of the Church, but now it was going to become even more difficult for them to understand.
How could we follow Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and respect our culture and family?
When we saw some members leaving the Church because they couldn’t understand this teaching from a living prophet, we realized we needed to take our questions to Heavenly Father.
When we joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as teenagers, we promised each other to always help each other stay close to the Lord, no matter what. We decided that wherever life took us, we would always hold on to our faith because we had seen how living the gospel leads to true joy.
So, when we were struggling to understand Elder Uchtdorf’s message, we remembered that promise. We were reminded of the importance of prioritizing a relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and trusting in Their promised blessings. We both focused on deepening our faith in Them to rebuild that trust.
When I (Phindi) was praying to Heavenly Father for guidance about dating and marriage, I had a thought come to mind. An Apostle of the Lord was inspired to come to my country and talk about a tradition specific to our culture because Heavenly Father knows us individually. He knows what may be limiting us, and He has our best interests at heart when it comes to the covenant path.
Photograph of Durban South Africa Temple by Matt Reier
I sincerely pondered this truth and realized that Heavenly Father truly doesn’t want our eternal marriages and families to be limited by worldly traditions. Thinking about this helped me see how lobola is often being corrupted, especially when the steep price prevents some couples from getting married at all. I started to realize I could trust Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ more than my own knowledge, even if it was hard.
I (Samu) turned to the scriptures to find answers for my anxieties about the future. I have always believed that this gospel has room for questions and encourages us to gain knowledge and seek personal revelation. So I studied the Book of Mormon more than ever before. Over time, I felt the truths in that book confirming that I could trust the words of today’s prophets. I felt my heart changing and my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ deepening.
As I continued to worry about what my future would look like in regard to dating and marriage, I remembered the truth given from Nephi that “the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7). And with that, I know I can trust Him and have hope in His promises.
As President Russell M. Nelson has taught, life is about learning to “let God prevail”4 and to “overcome the world.”5 Knowing this helped us to gradually deepen our trust in Heavenly Father. Even if we don’t know how marriage will work out for us, we know that as we keep our covenants and focus on our relationship with Him and Jesus Christ, we will be blessed with miracles as we let go of this tradition.
Relationships and dating can be hard and uncertain for anyone seeking temple marriage anywhere in the world. When we are left longing for an eternal companion, the future can sometimes feel daunting. Trust us—we personally face so many unknowns about how life will work out when most of our culture won’t consider marriage without paying lobola.
But despite the odds against us (and whatever odds, cultural barriers, or challenges you may be facing regarding dating and marriage), we truly believe Heavenly Father will continue to help all of us navigate and fulfill our righteous desires as we put our trust in Him. When we focus on our relationship with Him and Jesus Christ, everything else about the future is less daunting and more full of hope.
Sometimes we feel like we are missing out, and we wonder if it would be easier to simply give in to the customs, expectations, and standards of the world. But when we ponder the blessings and the joy that the Lord has in store for us as disciples of Christ, we realize that we are not missing out at all. We are in the hands of a loving Father in Heaven, who will guide us to unimaginable blessings.
In the meantime, we continue to do our best to progress spiritually and temporally. We build beautiful relationships with friends, family, and each other. The relationships we have with our loved ones—and especially with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ—will always help us feel connection and love and give us the strength to continue on the covenant path.
Some righteous desires may seem impossible as we navigate the ups and downs of young adulthood. But as we continue to keep our covenants and seek the Lord, we hold on to hope for temple marriages. Until then, as President Nelson taught, we can always seek and expect miracles.6 We really do experience the joy, blessings, and, yes, the miracles of living the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We hope you know that miracles and blessings are in store for you too.
The authors live in Gauteng, South Africa.
The Mkhize sisters are originally from KwaZulu Natal, South Africa. Samukelisiwe is a UX copywriter who loves singing with her family, blogging, and watching Korean dramas. She loves her Heavenly Father and her Savior Jesus Christ and believes that having a relationship with Them has made her a better daughter, sister, and friend. Phindile is a software engineer and enjoys serving in the Relief Society presidency, watching movies and Korean dramas, and hanging out with friends and family. She loves the meaning, purpose, and eternal perspective that the gospel brings to her life.
Notes

Not long ago my newly married baby sister, Deborah, and her husband moved from Provo and began their small business in Idaho. They were living in a new mobile home with a new infant daughter. They were as happy as an eager young family of three could be. After a brief time near his parent’s home, my young brother-in-law moved his wife and daughter and their new mobile home to what were literally greener pastures. He was a keeper of bees, and the clover looked tastier on the other side of the fence. The little family relocated some miles away, where the land was to flow, if not with milk, then at least with honey. They spent a long day and much of a night moving their good-sized mobile home onto their new property.

They were eager with anticipation and bursting with pride to be on their own. All that they owned was safely inside that trailer, stacked floor to ceiling with wedding gifts and baby blankets and years of childhood treasures. Early the next morning they arose to savor this new Canaan. They were certain they had crossed over Jordan.

With a bit of breakfast, my young brother-in-law went out into the fields to map out locations for hives and make plans for production. My sister, happy and full of hope, played with her daughter and then started to wash out some things soiled from the move.

First there was a little smoke, then a lot of smoke, and then instantly a flash. During the move, the gas jets to the water heater had been disturbed, and fire now had the trailer engulfed in flames. This little home, for which they had scrimped and saved and borrowed and prayed, was now a tinder box. Deborah grabbed her 10-month-old daughter and stumbled to a safe distance. A neighbor saw the blaze and called the small volunteer fire department. But it was too little, too late, and too lonely. Everything was gone that these two faithful and genuinely good young people had based their dreams upon: baby toys, photographs, remembrance records, quilts from a loving grandmother, mission mementos, beds, books, clothing, and tools. Everything was gone. And there stood this 24-year-old girl, my sister, holding her child and sobbing.

Her husband was busy at work with no way of knowing of this tragedy. Deborah was 400 miles from any member of her family and did not know one living soul in this new rural community where just a dozen hours earlier they had arrived with such hopes and dreams. Their future, for this little family of three, was disintegrating before her very eyes. First smoke, then flame, and now ashes.

So much, we might say, modest as they are, for the youthful dreams of the newly married—for those who are full of faith, constant in prayer, and obedient to every principle. This new wife and mother clutched her baby and wept out of loneliness, I suppose, as much as out of fear.

What would they do now? she thought. How would they pay the loan on a new trailer that was now gone? Where would they sleep? How would they eat? Who could help?

She stood there, overwhelmed at the lightning stroke of misfortune that had consumed their dreams in an instant. At that very moment, a young man stood at her side unnoticed. Neighbors were arriving, and the valiant efforts of firefighters held everyone’s attention—everyone’s but this young man’s. He seemed oblivious to the whole matter. He appeared to be 25 or so, not much older than she or her own husband.

As the others scurried by with buckets and pails and hoses and shovels, he gently reached out and took her arm. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Barry Larsen, and I understand you’ve just moved into our ward. I’m your bishop, and I want you to know that everything is going to be just fine.”

Well, things have been better than fine. After they had spent two or three nights in the home of the Relief Society president, a home was located for rent. A wise young husband had purchased insurance very carefully, and a bank responded with a generous offer for them to build a new home rather than buy another mobile version. Old dreams were forgotten in the rush of new ones, and now, two years later, they are full of hope and happiness, and their land is indeed flowing with honey.

Other traditions I grew up with that have continued in my own family today are family prayer and scripture study. Although we were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was a boy, my parents had strong Christian roots and taught us good values.
Our regular prayer and scripture study prepared us for when the missionaries knocked on our door. I was 20 years old at the time. We immediately recognized the truths the missionaries were teaching as we learned about modern prophets, the Book of Mormon, and the Restoration of the gospel. As I read the Book of Mormon, from the very first verse I knew it was true. Our entire family was soon baptized.

One Sunday while the sacrament was being passed, a ward Relief Society president I know pulled out her smartphone to read “The Living Christ: The Testimony of the Apostles.” Inspired by this apostolic testimony of the Savior, she felt renewed in her commitment to always remember Him.
However, her positive feelings melted away a few days later when, in the mail, she received an anonymous letter from a ward member. The author criticized her for setting a bad example by being on her smartphone in sacrament meeting. She was crushed.
Certainly, she hadn’t meant to offend anyone by using her mobile device. She rarely used it in the chapel, and only then when she felt it was appropriate. But after receiving the letter, she began to doubt herself.
Every generation has its challenges. One study reports that by 2020 there will be more people with a mobile phone (5.4 billion) than with running water (3.5 billion).1 Add in tablets, “phablets,” and other connected devices, and you get a world that is wrestling with the question: What is appropriate “digital etiquette”?
As parents, leaders, and teachers struggle to decide what is appropriate digital etiquette in Church settings, different opinions have led to sometimes conflicting ways to handle digital devices in Church meetings.
Church leaders have provided counsel on the blessings and dangers of using technology. However, Church leaders don’t always spell out all of the do’s and don’ts of gospel living (see Mosiah 4:29–30). Members are expected to study the matter for themselves and seek the guidance of the Holy Ghost in making decisions. Unfortunately, as in the situation above, sometimes we adopt not only a position but also a critical attitude toward those with a different position.
God has provided the blessings of technology for our benefit and the advancing of His work.2 So while some members use their digital devices inappropriately, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught that “we should not allow a fear of mistakes to hold us back from receiving the great blessings these tools can provide.”3 We need to learn to use them appropriately and teach our children to do so as well.
Mobile devices help members of the Church with gospel study, family history and temple work, and sharing the gospel. For example, over three million people used the Gospel Library app in January 2018. Their combined study time equaled more than a thousand years.
Along with noting the blessings, Church leaders have warned about the potential dangers as well, including wasted time, damaged relationships, and entrapment in sin.4 In Church settings, inappropriate use can distract us and others from worship and learning that is crucial to developing our relationship with God.
However, these dangers aren’t unique to digital devices. “Some of these tools—like any tool in an unpracticed or undisciplined hand—can be dangerous,” taught President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “… That is no different from how people choose to use television or movies or even a library. Satan is always quick to exploit the negative power of new inventions, to spoil and degrade, and to neutralize any effect for good.”5
Given the potential blessings—as well as the potential distractions—of these digital devices, how do members decide what approach to take? Joseph Smith suggested the power of a principle-based approach when he said, “I teach them correct principles, and they govern themselves.”6
Here, we examine principles that may be helpful in making decisions about using mobile devices in sacrament meeting. For a discussion on appropriate use of digital devices in the classroom, see “Teaching with Tech: Engaging Youth in a Digital World,” by Brother Brian K. Ashton, Second Counselor in the Sunday School General Presidency, on page 30 of this issue.
Sacrament meeting is for “[paying our] devotions unto the Most High” (D&C 59:10). President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, taught that our focus there should be on renewing our covenants and our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His Atonement.7 What we choose to do in sacrament meeting should help us do those things.
Given that focus, if the need arises, we might appropriately use our devices to:
Enhance our worship. A member might use a digital device during sacrament meeting to look up scriptures, sing hymns, or take notes on spiritual impressions.
Minister. A bishop might notice someone new or less active slip into the back of the chapel during sacrament meeting and, if prompted, text the ward mission leader to welcome the individual and invite them to a Gospel Principles class after the meeting.
Facilitate essential connectivity. Doctors, first-responders, and other on-call professionals can participate in worship services because they know they can be reached if necessary through their mobile devices.
As we seek to focus on the Savior, it’s important to remember that our devices can facilitate our study, but they can’t do our learning. They can give us something to ponder, but they can’t do our thinking for us. They can even help us to remember to pray, but the praying is something we have to do for ourselves.
Elder Bednar taught that our relationship with God is real, not virtual.8 It can’t be double-clicked or downloaded.9 So while the Relief Society president at the beginning of this article used her phone to help her center her thoughts on Christ, the covenant she was renewing wasn’t with her phone; it was with Him. The journey her device helped her start had to be finished in her thoughts, her prayers, and her actions.
We should all strive for an environment that enhances our focus on worship and learning. Minimizing distractions is important. This principle applies to many situations, from how we hold conversations or handle fussy children to how we use our digital devices.
There are so many ways to be distracted by a device that was designed to do so many things. Obviously, watching videos, listening to music, or playing games will make it difficult to pay attention to sacrament services. But so will checking email, text messages, social media, sports scores, and the many dings, buzzes, and badges that pull us into events, relationships, and conversations that exist outside of the meeting. All of this and more can distract us and others, even several rows away.
For those who want to eliminate digital distractions entirely, leaving their devices at home or turning them off may be appropriate. For those who use their devices to support their worship but want to avoid distracting others, it might be enough to silence the device, set it on do not disturb, or put it in airplane mode.10
There will always be distractions of one kind or another, and not all of them are digital. These might include a fussy infant, a buzzing insect, or the noisy traffic outside. We bear primary responsibility for what we get out of our worship. So if someone forgets to put their phone on airplane mode, we need to try to put ourselves on “ignore distractions” mode.
President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Each member of the Church bears responsibility for the spiritual enrichment that can come from a sacrament meeting.”11
If we notice others around us using their devices, we need to be careful about assuming that what they’re doing is inappropriate just because it’s on a digital device. If the individual is a child or someone we are called to have responsibility for, it may be appropriate to check on their usage as the Spirit directs. Otherwise, we try to return to our own worship.
In a statement that encompasses these principles, President Oaks counseled, “During sacrament meeting—and especially during the sacrament service—we should concentrate on worship and refrain from all other activities, especially from behavior that could interfere with the worship of others.”12
There are many other principles that could help guide our usage. As digital devices become an increasingly normal part of our culture, we will need to wrestle together with questions about what is appropriate. Because every situation is unique and technology will continue to change, we need to continually examine our own usage, consider new or different perspectives, and be willing to forgive others as we learn together.

I must confess to you that, up until 24 years ago (I got married about 24 years ago), I had but one prayer in my heart. There was only one thing that I wanted to do. I prayed morning and night, unashamedly, that I could be the shortstop for the New York Yankees. That was my prayer. I don’t pray that anymore.

My prayer changed. It became, “I want to be the father of lovely and virtuous young ladies.” I’ve been blessed with four fine daughters. I’ve observed families that have done a great job with their children. I went to one couple, friends of ours, and asked, “How come your kids are so good? What is it you do with them?”

They said, “Oh, we do this, this, this, and we give them plenty of love.”

I asked some other friends, “How come your kids are so good? What is it you do?”

“Oh, we do this, this, this, and, oh, by the way, we give them plenty of love.” That seems to be the common denominator—give them plenty of love.

Parker was helping Daddy plant a garden. He wished his brother Eric was here to help. But Eric was far away on a mission.
“I’ll never be big like Eric,” Parker said. “How can I go on a mission like him?”
“Don’t worry,” Daddy said. “You’ll grow.”
Daddy handed Parker some pumpkin seeds. He helped Parker plant them.
“These little seeds will grow into big pumpkins?” Parker asked.
“If you take good care of them,” Daddy said.
Parker came out to look at the garden every day. He watered it, and soon tiny sprouts came up. The leaves got bigger. Parker carefully pulled up weeds.
By fall his pumpkin plants had grown. And there were big orange pumpkins!
Parker grabbed Daddy to show him. “You took great care of your pumpkin plants!” Daddy said.
“Yup! And I’ll take good care of me, so I can get big too.” Parker grinned. “And when I’m big, I can go on a mission just like Eric!”

It is not just by enticing us to engage in clearly addictive behavior that Satan tries to limit our ability to act according to our desires. He is able to limit this core component of agency by confusing us in other ways. Let me illustrate with a simple example from my own life. For a time, I practiced law in Arizona. The morning commute from our home in Tempe to my office in downtown Phoenix was a daily adventure that took anywhere from 20 minutes, on a good day, to close to an hour, on a bad day. After a few months, I began to notice that my mood for the day was determined largely by how long the commute took and how aggravated I was with the drivers who I thought were causing the problems. The longer the commute, and the more annoying the drivers, the more irritable I was with everyone I met during the day. When I first noticed this trend (probably long after my co-workers had discovered it), I became even more annoyed at the other drivers. How dare they ruin my day by making me angry and frustrated? Then one day I read, not for the first time, but with new eyes, three verses from Lehi's teachings in Second Nephi chapter 2. The first is verse 14: "God ... hath created .. all things that [are in the heavens and earth], both things to act and things to be acted upon." "That's it," I thought, "my problem is that those other drivers are acting upon me. It's all their fault." Then I came to verses 26 and 27: "And the Messiah cometh in the fullness of time that he may redeem the children of men ... And because that they are redeemed from the fall, they have become free forever ... to act for themselves and not to be acted upon. ... Wherefore men are free ... to choose liberty and eternal life ... or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself." It hit me like a thunderbolt. The problem was not with the other drivers; the problem was with me. Because of the atonement, I was free to choose my attitude, to act for myself, but I was surrendering that freedom by succumbing to Satan's temptation to become angry. And - just as Satan desired - I was becoming miserable. He had me thinking I had no choice about what mood I was in, when in reality, because of the atonement, it was entirely my choice. I could choose to act, but I too often chose to be acted upon, to be led captive by the actions of others, thereby surrendering my agency to them.