Gospel Story Finder

Just one day before Elder McConkie’s talk, I had received my call to the Presiding Bishopric. One day after his address, on Easter morning, at 5:00 A.M., I was writing my remarks to be delivered that afternoon. As I reflected on Elder McConkie’s beautiful oration, I was overcome with the knowledge of my weaknesses and inadequacies. However, as I began to comprehend what had taken place in my own life, self-doubt was replaced with peace, confidence, and eternal joy. I wept.
I wrote the words which seem appropriate to repeat at this time: “I love the Lord Jesus Christ. I love the transformation his atonement has wrought in me. … I once was in darkness, and now see light. I once lost all of my confidence, and now know all things are possible in the Lord. I once felt shame and now am ‘filled … with his love, even unto the consuming of my flesh.’ (2 Ne. 4:21.) ‘I am encircled about eternally in the arms of his love.’” (2 Ne. 1:15.) (General Conference, April 1985.)
I feel the same way now as I did on that Easter Sunday. That knowledge brings tears.

I grew up in a large family, and I always believed that motherhood would be my greatest contribution to building the Lord’s kingdom. However, my husband and I recently learned that our chances of adding children to our family in this life are small. Our infertility journey has been excruciatingly painful, but the uncertainty of treatments and the emotional load of making difficult decisions have been especially soul crushing. At times I have wondered, What will my influence and role be if I can’t be a mother in the way I had planned?
During this journey, I’ve been grateful for other faithful women in my life whose experiences have also turned out differently than they had planned. And through their examples, Heavenly Father’s message to me has been this: “Don’t wait. Don’t second-guess if you could or should have done more or chosen differently. Be where you are now. Take opportunities to love and serve those around you.”

Francisco Samuel Cabrera Perez of Chihuahua, Mexico, says he doesn’t consider himself a bad person; he has sought to obey the commandments and fulfill his duties to his family and to his fellowman since he was baptized at 16. But the experiment involving studying the Savior’s life helped him shift his understanding of discipleship from theoretical to practical.
In studying John 6:27–63, the sermon where the Savior calls Himself the Bread of Life, Brother Cabrera came to recognize in himself a tendency that many have: to see to his personal comfort first.
“I always find one or more ‘reasons’—excuses—to postpone my duties,” he explains. Thoughts like “In a while” or “Tomorrow” or “There’s no rush” come into his mind, he says, “hovering like vultures that block my family, economic, social, and, above all, eternal progress.”
Following the Savior only after doing what we like makes us “nearly disciples,” not true ones, he says. Reading about the Savior’s commitment to submitting to the will of the Father increased Brother Cabrera’s own commitment, and he came to better understand how taking the sacrament each week helps him “[put] off the natural man” (Mosiah 3:19).
“I submit to the influence of the Holy Spirit and allow the power of the Atonement to make me a saint,” explains Brother Cabrera. “For this to happen, I need to develop the attributes of Christ: becoming like a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, loving, being willing to submit to the will of the Lord” (see Mosiah 3:19).
As Brother Cabrera made a concerted effort to put off the natural man, he found an increased love for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, his family, his leaders, and other associates. He found that his work performance increased. And most of all, he found that he enjoyed—not suffered in—doing things to build the kingdom of God.
“While I used to see discipleship of the Savior as a burden, I now see that His yoke is easy and His burden is light” (see Matthew 11:30), Brother Cabrera says. “That’s what the great plan of happiness is: to follow Jesus Christ and to rejoice with Him now and in the eternities.”

Shortly after returning from the Mexico City Mission, I received an invitation to accompany Elder Boyd K. Packer to Mexico to make a survey of the Church Educational System there. We arrived on Thursday and were involved in almost continuous meetings through Friday and Saturday; then Elder Packer presided over a stake conference. By Sunday evening, we were all very tired. Elder Packer returned home, and I remained to conduct a meeting on Monday with the supervisors of the Seminaries and Institutes of Religion.

Monday morning I checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to the mission office. I was in the back seat going through some papers when I happened to look at the taxi driver. My first thought was, “I’m busy. I’m tired. And besides, he probably is not interested in the gospel anyway.” But my rationalizing did not satisfy me, especially when I thought of my previous experience with President Kimball and remembered the lady on the bus between Mexico City and Cuernavaca. Finally, I leaned forward and asked him, “Señor, siempre ha vivido aqui en Mexico?” (“Sir, have you always lived here in Mexico City?”) “No,” he replied, “I am from Oaxaca.”

“Do you like living here in Mexico City better than in Oaxaca?”

“No, I liked living in Oaxaca better than here, but you see I’m the father of eight children. My oldest son is studying here at the Polytechnical Institute to become an engineer. He will graduate this year. My second son is also studying to become an engineer, and he will graduate next year. Our oldest daughter is studying to become a profesionista” (accountant).

I could see that he was very proud of his children. Then he turned to me and asked, “What are you doing here in Mexico City?”

“I’m here on a special assignment from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you ever heard of that church?”

He wrinkled his forehead and said, “Is that some kind of Catholic Church?”

“No,” I replied, “it is really quite different. In our faith we believe that when Jesus was on earth he organized his church just as he wanted it to be, but over the years a falling away, or apostasy, occurred. Then the time came in our era when the Lord decided it was right to reveal himself to living prophets again, and to restore his church to the earth.”

That simple explanation took only about forty seconds. I leaned back in the seat, feeling content that at least I had “opened my mouth.”

The next thing I knew he slowed down, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Would you be willing to come to my home and teach my family more about that?”

“I would be delighted,” I replied, “but my plane leaves at 2:00 P.M. this afternoon. If you have three minutes when we get where we are going, I will introduce you to a friend, and I am sure that we can make arrangements for someone to come to your home and tell you and your family more about this.”

“Well,” he said, “I’m buying my taxi; I can do with my time what I want to, so I’ll come with you.”

By the time we arrived at the mission office I had had an opportunity to tell him about our missionary program and how it operates. We parked the car and went into the mission office, and I introduced Herman Velasquez to President Eran Call, who graciously received him.

Just as they were making the arrangements, President Call looked out the office window and said with surprise, “Well, those two elders coming up the sidewalk right now are the two that work in your part of the city!” I had the privilege of seeing Mr. Herman Velasquez meet the elders who would be coming to his home the following Sunday to teach his family more about the gospel.

Some weeks later I received a letter from President Call, who wrote: “I thought you would be interested in knowing what has happened to that taxi driver you brought to the mission home the other day. The missionaries are meeting with him and his family, with his brother and his family, and his brother-in-law and his family, and last Sunday eleven people attended church services from among those families. The exciting thing is that the two most interested are those sons that are studying to be engineers.”

Six months later, I returned to Mexico City to attend a Young Adult conference. I heard that even though the taxi driver had not yet joined the Church, the oldest son who was studying engineering had been baptized and ordained a priest; his brother, the younger son who was studying engineering, had been baptized and ordained a teacher. Someday I would like to know what has happened since; surely much more has occurred.

On Christmas Eve several years ago, the Kim family, who were members of our ward, stopped by our home to give us a gift. They are from Korea, and they are incredibly talented. Sister Kim is a pianist, Brother Kim plays the flute, and each of their children play a stringed instrument. They are all accomplished musicians.

That Christmas Eve they entered our home with their instruments in tow—with the exception of Sister Kim, who used our piano. Their gift to us was a musical performance of Christmas carols in our living room. Words cannot adequately express how beautiful and heavenly it was. I have to admit that I was a little sad when they concluded their performance. Imagine my joy when the following Christmas Eve, the Kim family stopped by our home to perform again!

This time, however, when they were packing up their instruments to leave, Brother Kim informed us that they would return the following Christmas Eve to perform, but they expected us to be prepared to perform something for them. Of course we wanted them to return, so we agreed.

After they left our home, Kevin and I quickly assessed our situation. We had one year to come up with something very special that we could perform for the Kim family, and we knew that, in reality, we really needed much longer than a year! After some thought, however, Kevin and I decided that we could sing a Christmas carol for them in Korean. We chose “Silent Night” because it was one song I thought I could play on the piano while everyone else sang. Then we asked a friend who had served his mission in Korea to write out the Korean words for “Silent Night” phonetically so that we would at least have a chance of pronouncing the Korean words correctly.

When the next Christmas Eve arrived, our little choir—which consisted of our family and friends who were at our home that night—practiced the song a few times before the Kims arrived. We were as prepared as we could be for our performance. The Kims arrived, and after we had waited a whole year, it was finally time for us to perform for them.

I sat down nervously at the piano and began playing, and our choir began singing “Silent Night” in Korean. We managed to get through the first line of the song just fine. The Kims sat and listened politely. Then we made it through the second line just fine too. The Kims sat with pleasant looks on their faces. I knew that we were on the home stretch, and I was feeling pretty good about our performance. And that is when it ­happened—the part of “Silent Night” that goes “sleep in heavenly peace” (Hymns, 2002, no. 204). Well, as soon as the choir sang the word sleep, every member of the Kim family—who had been sitting there watching and listening to us very quietly, respectfully, and graciously—burst out in delightful glee. It was at that moment the Kim family realized we were singing in Korean. Evidently, prior to that moment they had had no idea what language we were attempting to sing.

There are people we know who have gifts and talents that are very obvious—like the Kim ­family—and others, like us, whose gifts and talents may not be so obvious. For example, we obviously had neither the gift of music nor the gift of tongues, but we still had the gift to appreciate the music and the talents of others.

How do you choose a wife? I’ve heard a lot of young people from Brigham Young University and elsewhere say, “I’ve got to get a feeling of inspiration. I’ve got to get some revelation. I’ve got to fast and pray and get the Lord to manifest to me whom I should marry.” Well, maybe it will be a little shock to you, but never in my life did I ever ask the Lord whom I ought to marry. It never occurred to me to ask him. I went out and found the girl I wanted; she suited me; I evaluated and weighed the proposition, and it just seemed a hundred percent to me as though this ought to be. Now, if I’d done things perfectly, I’d have done some counseling with the Lord, which I didn’t do; but all I did was pray to the Lord and ask for some guidance and direction in connection with the decision that I’d reached. A more perfect thing to have done would have been to counsel with him relative to the decision and get a spiritual confirmation that the conclusion, which I by my agency and faculties had arrived at, was the right one.

A few weeks ago, joy and nostalgia dominated our conversation as Sister Haight and I drove to the airport to see our eleventh grandchild leave for his mission. During our brief visit—with warm greetings and emotional embraces—we recalled some of the historical accounts of how the message of the restoration of the gospel had influenced our family, of how our missionary grandson’s great-great-grandfather, Joseph Toronto, heard and believed the message of the gospel from missionaries in Boston in 1843, 150 years ago.
Joseph Toronto assisted with the building of the Nauvoo Temple. Brigham Young had made a strong appeal on Sunday, July 6, 1845, for the Saints to “remember [and pray for] the temple” and to “pay your tithing.” The Saints were anxious that the temple be finished sufficiently that ordinance work might begin before the exodus westward. More workers and tithing were desperately needed. Joseph Toronto, the new convert, visited Brigham Young after the meeting and declared that “he wanted to give himself and all he had to the kingdom of God.” He handed Brigham Young $2,600 in gold coins (see “Italian Pioneer,” Church News, 20 June 1981, p. 16). Brigham Young blessed the Italian convert, proclaiming that “he should stand at the head of his race and that neither he nor his family should ever want for bread” (Joseph Toronto: Italian Pioneer and Patriarch, comp. Toronto Family Organization [1983], p. 10). Later, in 1849, he was called to accompany the new Apostle Lorenzo Snow to his native Italy to open that land for the preaching of the gospel (see Church News, 20 June 1981, p. 16).

Donna’s brown curls bounced as she skipped home from school. Mrs. Richards had just read the class a story about pirates who buried chests full of treasure. Some of the buried treasures had never been found, and Donna was thinking how wonderful it would be to discover one of them. Her family was going to Grandma’s house for dinner that night, and she could hardly wait to tell Grandma the story. She often talked about the olden days; now it would be Donna’s turn.
When they arrived at Grandma’s house, Donna ran straight to the kitchen. “Grandma! Grandma!” she squealed. “We learned about buried treasure today. My teacher says there are still treasures hidden away. Maybe when I get older, I can find one.”
Grandma smiled. “What kind of treasure would you like to find?”
Grandma nodded with a twinkle in her eye. “That certainly would be wonderful. Maybe after dinner we could pretend to be pirates and look for buried treasure right here.”
Donna clapped her hands. “Oh, Grandma, could we? I’ll help you clean up after dinner.”
When the dishes were washed and put away, Grandma took Donna aside and whispered in her ear. “When I was a little girl, I, too, dreamed of finding a treasure. I used to search in the attic. Shall we see if there’s any treasure up there?”
Donna could hardly control her excitement. “Yes! Yes!”
They had to climb some narrow steps to get into the dark attic. Donna held Grandma’s hand very tightly. She was a little bit afraid, but she didn’t want Grandma to know. When they reached the top of the stairs and Grandma turned on the light, Donna was disappointed. All she saw were some dusty boxes, a few cobwebs, and a big trunk that didn’t look anything like a pirate chest. How could they ever find treasure in this junk?
Donna carefully opened one of the boxes. Inside were some old toys. She took out a doll with bright blue eyes and a pink dress. “Who did this belong to?” she asked, admiring the doll.
“Your mother. It was her favorite, and she used to play with it every day. She called it Donna, and she always said that when she had a little girl, she would name her Donna too.”
Donna smiled, trying to imagine her mom playing with the doll. It made her happy to know that her mom had always wanted a little girl.
Grandma had opened another box and was looking at a large picture in a beautiful wood frame.
Standing in the picture was a red-haired girl about Donna’s age. Donna examined the picture carefully. She had seen this girl before, but where?
“Who is she?” Donna asked.
“Well, goodness,” said Grandma, “that picture does look familiar.” She searched and found a dusty mirror, cleaned it off, and handed it to Donna. “Look,” she said, “and tell me what you see.”
Donna was puzzled. What did this have to do with the picture? As she looked in the mirror, her eyes got bigger.
They were the same big brown eyes she had seen in the picture, under the same red curls. The two faces were the same!
“That’s me in the picture, Grandma! Why can’t I remember when it was taken?”
Grandma laughed. “Because that isn’t you in the picture, dear. It’s your mother. We had that picture taken when she was just about your age.”
Donna was amazed. She’d had no idea that she looked so much like her mom.
Grandma’s eyes were gleaming as she opened the big trunk. “Donna,” she said, “come see what I’ve found!” On top of the pile was the dress Donna’s mom had worn in the picture. It was white with purple flowers and white ruffles.
“Can I try it on, Grandma?” Donna pleaded. “I’ll be very careful, I promise.” After Grandma had helped her put on the dress, Donna looked in the mirror again and giggled. Now she looked exactly like Mom. They were finding some wonderful treasures, even though not of diamonds or gold.
Grandma reached into the trunk again and pulled out another picture. This time it was a small picture of a beautiful building.
“I know what that is!” Donna exclaimed. “It’s the Salt Lake Temple.”
“Yes,” Grandma said. “This picture is very special to me. When I was a little girl, my Primary teacher gave one to each of us after a lesson about the temple. She told us how wonderful it was to go to the temple and be sealed together as a family.
“She said that we could also do work for people who had died without a chance to hear about the gospel. Then she explained that in order to enter the temple, we had to go to church, pay our tithing, obey the Word of Wisdom, and keep the other commandments.
“I was so proud of my beautiful picture that I took it home and hung it right above my bed. Every night before I said my prayers, I looked at the picture, then asked Heavenly Father to help me prepare to go there. I wanted to go to the temple more than anything else. I wanted to help people like my great-grandmother, who didn’t know about the gospel. And I wanted to be married there to a good man.
“The day I went to the temple with your grandpa to be married for eternity was the most beautiful day of my life. When I see our family together, it makes me happy that we have made the right choices. We still need to keep working to be good, but it’s all worth it, knowing that we can be together forever.”
Donna smiled. “I guess we really did find a treasure today.”
Grandma hugged her. “Donna, I want you to have this picture of the temple to help you remember the treasures you will find there.”
Donna gave Grandma a big kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Grandma. You’re the best treasure finder in the whole world!”

One day at school, a classmate and I somehow entered into the topic of religion. My classmate became a little antagonistic and started to criticize what I believed.
She looked me in the face and said, “You believe in your Church only because your parents raised you in it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t believe.”
I don’t remember what I said to her, but I kept thinking about her comment and wondering why she would say that. I had been raised in the Church, and, really, I had never questioned the Church’s teachings or doctrines. Ever since I was little, I felt the Church was true. Before I was even baptized, our family read the Book of Mormon together, and I knew it was true. I didn’t just believe; I knew it and had no doubts. But I couldn’t define a particular moment when I had received that witness. For some time that bothered me. I wanted to have a particular experience when I would pray and immediately the answer would come rushing to me. It never happened.
But what I could define was a moment when my testimony was confirmed. After my first year of high school, I went with some other youth on a tour to Church history sites. When we arrived at the Sacred Grove, our tour guide invited us to seek a personal confirmation that what had happened there was true: that God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith and initiated the Restoration. I found a quiet place in the grove and read the account of the First Vision. Then I knelt down and prayed. I already knew the First Vision had happened and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. But I asked anyway. I finished my prayer, and nothing happened. No grand feeling, no vision, no angels. Nothing.
I found a rock and sat down and opened my patriarchal blessing and started to read. My blessing mentioned the Restoration of the gospel, and in my head the words repeated: “You already know. You already know.”
If I could go back to that moment when my friend challenged what I believed, I don’t know how I would describe how I know the Church is true. But I wish I had told her that while my parents had taught me what they knew to be true, I had to find that answer for myself. And I did.
I didn’t need to go to the Sacred Grove to know the Church was true. I didn’t need any great experience to know the Church was true. I just needed to be reminded, “You already know.”

In the vicinity where I once lived and served, the Church operated a poultry project, staffed primarily by volunteers from the local wards. Most of the time it was an efficiently operated project, supplying to the bishops’ storehouse thousands of fresh eggs and hundreds of pounds of dressed poultry. On a few occasions, however, being volunteer city farmers meant not only blisters on the hands but also frustration of heart and mind.
For instance, I shall ever remember the time we gathered the Aaronic Priesthood young men to give the project a spring-cleaning. Our enthusiastic and energetic throng assembled at the project and in a speedy fashion uprooted, gathered, and burned large quantities of weeds and debris. By the light of the glowing bonfires, we ate hot dogs and congratulated ourselves on a job well done.
However, there was just one disastrous problem. The noise and the fires so disturbed the fragile population of 5,000 laying hens that most of them went into a sudden molt and ceased laying. Thereafter we tolerated a few weeds so that we might produce more eggs.

A few years ago, I was working full-time and finishing an evening program to earn my Master of Business Administration degree. When I finished my MBA, I wanted to use that “extra” time for something meaningful.
The advice from a trusted professor was simple and clear—I needed to find opportunities to serve. While he knew of my Church responsibilities, he suggested I look beyond my regular circle of influence.
I started a prayerful search to know where my skills and talents were needed and where I could do the most good. I was soon led to a community center that needed mentors for their teen program. I began mentoring a teenage girl whose family had left Somalia as refugees. Each week we practiced reading, writing, and math skills. But beyond that, we developed a friendship and learned about each other’s cultures and dreams for the future. When she moved, I was assigned another girl. Her family had fled Myanmar, and she had been raised in a refugee camp in Thailand. Along with studying, we also discussed the challenges of life and how to respond to them.
I’ve found many other opportunities to use my skills in different ways and serve in the community.
Get out of your comfort zone. With mentoring, at first I wasn’t comfortable working with teenagers or with tutoring in all subjects. But sometimes my main job was to provide motivation and encouragement. We don’t have to be the perfect fit to make a difference. Most of the time, our main impact could be being there, listening, and building a long-term relationship of trust and stability.

But sometimes there is no one like President Monson, no home teacher, no caring sister available to minister in time of need. In those situations I have come to find solace and direction from the Comforter, another role of the Holy Ghost (see D&C 36:2).
Our grandson Quinton was born with multiple birth defects and lived three weeks short of a year, during which time he was in and out of the hospital. Sister Jensen and I were living in Argentina at that time. We truly wanted to be there with our children to comfort them and be comforted by them. This was our grandchild, whom we loved and wanted to be near. We could only pray, and we did so fervently!
Sister Jensen and I were on a mission tour when we received word Quinton had died. We stood in the hallway of a meetinghouse and hugged and comforted each other. I witness to you that assurances came to us from the Holy Ghost, a peace which passes all understanding and continues to this day (see Philippians 4:7). We also witnessed the unspeakable gift of the Holy Ghost in the lives of our son and daughter-in-law and their children, who to this day speak of that time with such faith, peace, and comfort.

The churches, castles, and inns of thirteenth-century England are the setting for this dramatic story of Robin. Robin’s father, a great lord, was off to the wars, and his mother, a lady, was called to help care for the Queen, as there was a plague raging in the city of London. Robin is to go to a castle in the north of the land to begin serving as a page in preparation for knighthood. The plague overcomes the household staff. Robin becomes ill and is left unattended. How Robin eventually gets to his castle and how he learns there are different ways in which to serve make for exciting reading.

One day I invited Mike* to come to church and sit in my class. Mike was my age but had stopped attending church completely by the time he was 12. We had remained friends over the years as I had served as the deacons quorum president, the teachers quorum president, and first assistant to the bishop in the priests quorum. He had been the topic of many fellowshipping discussions and was often part of my prayers as the years had passed. Once in a while Mike would accept my invitations to come to an activity. It always surprised me when he did, so I kept inviting him.
At that time, Mike had long, black hair and a beard. His complexion was dark and pleasant. I don’t remember when I invited him to my Primary class, but one day he showed up.
“Class, I would like to introduce you to my friend Mike,” is how I began my lesson. “He is visiting us today.”
Mike sat next to me in front. The children sat in a semicircle with their eyes fixed on him. They were much quieter than usual. I was about five or six minutes into the lesson when one little boy got up from his chair and walked across the room and stood directly in front of my friend. The boy paused for a moment and then climbed onto his lap. I continued with the lesson as I watched the two of them from the corner of my eye.
The boy sat looking into Mike’s face. Mike was quite uncomfortable but did not interrupt the lesson or turn the boy away. The other children watched the two of them for a few minutes.
Then one of the girls climbed off her seat and approached Mike. I was intently interested in seeing how Mike would react and did not want to instruct the two children to return to their seats. The girl stood with her hand on Mike’s knee looking into his face.
Then it happened. The boy on Mike’s lap reached up with both hands and turned Mike’s face directly to his. I stopped my lesson to see what was about to unfold.
With the innocence of a child, he said to Mike, “Are you Jesus?”
The look on Mike’s face was total surprise. It seemed, as I glanced at the children’s faces, they all had the same question on their minds.
Mike looked at me as if to say, Help, what do I say?
I stepped in. “No, this is not Jesus. This is His brother.”
Mike looked at me as if in shock.
Then without hesitation the boy in Mike’s lap reached up and wrapped his arms around Mike’s neck. “I can tell,” the boy said as he hugged Mike.
The rest of the children smiled and nodded in agreement as their simple question was answered. Mike blinked back the tears in response to the love he felt from this small Sunbeam. The lesson went on, but that day the teacher who taught the most was a three-year-old child.
Mike spent more than a year getting ready to serve a mission. It thrilled me to learn that he left for the mission field a few months before I returned. I still think of the scripture in Matthew 18:5: “And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me.”

Mzwakhe Sitole faces a challenge. As ward Sunday School president, he has a God-given responsibility to help improve gospel learning and teaching in the ward.1
But the members of his ward in Johannesburg, South Africa, have, in some cases, vastly different backgrounds and expectations. Some are well-educated; others are not. Many have been taught that a student’s place is to listen, not to talk. Others face an uphill cultural battle in understanding that both men and women should be involved in teaching at church and at home.
“We also have people who speak different languages,” Brother Sitole says. “But the Spirit wants to prompt each one.”
When teacher council meetings and Teaching in the Savior’s Way were introduced last year, wards and branches throughout the Church began holding teacher council meetings to discuss, learn about, and practice what it means to teach in the Savior’s way.
That’s when Brother Sitole began to see how teacher council meetings could bless his ward. Cultural challenges could be addressed, class participation could be increased, and different perspectives of members could become blessings.
Like many others around the world, Brother Sitole realized that the Lord isn’t using teacher council meetings just to change how we teach; He’s using them to also change how we learn.
One of the most interesting discoveries for Brother Sitole was that as teachers empower students to participate in their own learning, everyone benefits from the expanded view that different perspectives provide.
That understanding came to Brother Sitole during a teacher council meeting, when a ward member shared the parable of the blind men and the elephant, only with a twist. The parable tells how six blind men each describe an elephant differently (a leg is like a pillar, the tail is like a rope, the trunk is like a water spout, and so forth) because each is touching a different part.2
“But suppose the elephant represents gospel teaching,” Brother Sitole says. “Then we need to enable each class member to share their perspective, so that together we come to a common understanding of how the gospel blesses us all.”
That’s why teachers in Brother Sitole’s ward always sit around a table during teacher council meeting—to facilitate discussion. “It reminds us that everyone has an equal voice,” he says.

But before I tell you what he says, we need to go back and catch up on the story of the Alma family and how Alma the Younger got to this point in his life.
Alma’s father was also Alma, commonly referred to as Alma the Elder. We first learn about him as a 20-something-year-old priest [2] in the courts of Noah, a wicked Nephite King.
While working there, Alma the Elder is converted by the words of the prophet Abinidi and, because of his beliefs, has to run into the wilderness and hide from his former colleagues, the other priests, along with a group of about 450 others. They conceal themselves at a place called the Waters of Mormon, and later in a land called Helam, but are eventually discovered by the Lamanites.
To make matters worse, the leader appointed over them by the Lamanites is a man named Amulon, also a former priest of Noah, who still had an axe to grind with Alma. Amulon wanted Alma and his people to suffer.
Now, it’s unclear how much of this Alma the Younger experienced. We don’t know if he was born in the wilderness, or while in Lamanite captivity, or maybe later in the land of Zarahemla. There is a clue, though.
In Mosiah 24:8 when describing the difficulties the people of Alma are experiencing under Amulon’s rule, Mormon makes a point to say that Amulon “[caused] that his children should persecute their children,” [3] maybe referring to Alma the Younger. If he was alive during this period, it couldn’t have been easy for him, facing daily harassment and bullying from Amulon’s kids.
Later, after the Lord miraculously delivers the people of Alma from the Lamanites, they rejoin the Nephites in Zarahemla. Alma the Elder, now close to 50 years old, [4] is asked to organize the Church throughout the land.
It’s safe to assume, because of what we know about Alma the Elder, that home life for Alma the Younger included family home evening, regular scripture study, family prayer, and youth activities. On paper, Alma the Younger should have had all the righteous influence a person needed.
Which is why, at first, it might be a little surprising to learn, when we first meet Alma the Younger in Mosiah 27, that he, along with the king’s sons, don’t believe in the gospel and are among a growing faction of young adults in Zarahemla who aren’t interested in church.
At least some of this group don’t just agree to disagree with Church members; they seek to destroy the Church and lead the people astray. Alma convinced many to his way of thinking and, as it says in verse 8, became a great hindrance to the prosperity of the Church of God. [5]
I’ve wondered, with a father like Alma the Elder, why Alma the Younger had so much resentment towards the Church.
Was it difficult to have a father who was such a strong spiritual leader? Could it be because of the mistreatment and abuse he experienced at the hands of Amulon’s children when he was a kid, if in fact he was alive for some of this experience in the wilderness? What emotional scars did he have from those moments and how did they shape his view of the world and his relationship with God?
Well, you know the rest of the story. An angel visits Alma the Younger and commands him to stop. Alma goes through a very painful and accelerated repentance process and becomes a completely different person. He focuses his energies on trying to repair the damage he caused, and after a time he replaces his father as the high priest of the Church.
Now we’re all caught up and back to Alma 29 where he finds himself, an experienced minister, frustrated that he can’t do more to convince people of the truth. It’s right here, disheartened, he says to himself, “O that I were an angel” [6]—or maybe, in other words, “it was angel that helped me, and if I was an angel, maybe I could save more people.” But then he stops himself and says, “I ought not to harrow up in my desires the firm decree of a just God.” [7]
He’s quick to point out how critical choice is to God’s plan, and here’s the line that’s very interesting: “For I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire.” [8]

There are so many reasons why my wife Ann is not only the person I love, but also the person I most admire. Just before the Olympics in Salt Lake City in 2002, she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. She documented her battle with that disease in a book which has inspired others facing debilitating illnesses. She also founded a center for neurological research that has led to treatments for Alzheimer’s as well as multiple sclerosis. But there is something else that stands out about my Ann.

One day some years ago, I overheard her talking at great length with someone on the phone. She was on that call for over an hour. When it was finally over, I asked her who she was talking with. She said it was an elderly widow who she had met during one of our vacations—not a family member, not a close friend, just an acquaintance. A little puzzled, I asked Ann why she had spent a whole hour talking to an acquaintance. She explained simply that the widow was lonely and needed someone to talk to. And then she added this: “wherever I go in life, I want to leave flowers in my wake.”

My wife’s example of Christ-like kindness inspires me.

Hastily, John Salinger wrote down the details of the assignment on the back of the list of materials to read: three-page paper due on the fifth, about world hunger, use the list of materials to be read.
The bell rang, and John walked down the hall toward the cafeteria.
When the Mormon students who ate lunch together were seated in their usual places in the cafeteria, John asked the question: “Did Mr. Perkins give your class an assignment on population and hunger today?”
Soon it was established that not only had John’s government class received the assignment, but also Kamio Kamura’s economics class, as well as Julie’s history class.
“It seems as though I’ve received a similar assignment at least once each semester from one teacher or another for the last three years. If it isn’t overpopulation, it’s abortion or world hunger,” added Lisa.
“And the material in the reading list makes it pretty clear what your conclusions are supposed to be: The world is overcrowded. No one should have a large family. Abortions are needed to control population growth. We don’t have enough food! But, I don’t believe all that!” protested Julie.
“Maybe we’re being unfair to the teachers,” said John. I think Mr. Perkins and the other teachers give assignments on these subjects because they are really concerned about them. And many of them agree with what the Church teaches.”
“Maybe so, John,” answered Lisa, “but how do we do the assignment when the teacher’s opinions don’t seem to agree with what the Church teaches?”
These young people have asked some interesting questions. Frequently, the opinions of teachers will differ from Church policies, the statements of Church leaders, and the scriptures.
“Let’s go talk to Mr. Morgan,” said John. “He has taught at this school for a long time and he has been a bishop and a seminary teacher even longer.”
“I can understand that you have a problem,” said Bishop Morgan, “but it’s not the problem you mentioned. You are assuming that you may use only the sources on Mr. Perkin’s reading list and that you must reach the same conclusions as the authors on that list. I have no doubt,” continued the bishop, “that you are welcome to use other sources, and to state other points of view, and to reach different conclusions if that is what your research leads you to.”
“But are there books and articles that support what the Church teaches?” asked Lisa.
“Certainly,” replied Bishop Morgan. “There are few fields of study without controversy. Honest, sincere researchers, working with the same data, may come to widely different conclusions and then publish documented articles and books in support of their conclusions.
“Some scientists are sure the world is overcrowded with four billion people. Others feel that the earth is capable of providing well for 40 or 50 or even 100 billion people.
“And among social scientists the differences of opinion are probably even greater because they work with the most complex subject of all: people. That’s why you get strong conflicting opinions like these. There are no easy answers.
“As Latter-day Saints, we are fortunate to have revealed truth to guide us in these controversial subjects, and we should be grateful for that. And there are many researchers, both LDS and otherwise, whose writings agree with what the Lord has revealed. Your problem is simply to find these writings and then decide which of them will be useful in your assignments.”
In the next three weeks John, Julie, and Kamio did a lot of hard work. Working together, they carefully read everything on Mr. Perkin’s reading list and then began doing research in both the school and public libraries.
They contacted various social service and government agencies and obtained some useful materials, references and statistics. Other teachers were consulted.
John and Julie and Kamio received top grades for their work in presenting the Church’s position. They were invited to present their findings to their respective classes and to answer questions from other students. They were well prepared with information to support their beliefs.
Best of all, they learned that there really are good and valid reasons for the Church’s position concerning difficult moral issues. They discovered that some teachers with strong opinions respect students who do good, thorough research, even when they disagree with them. And they learned that the gospel of Jesus Christ is always in harmony with the truth from whatever source.

As a young man, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, wanted a different work experience than that of a laundry delivery boy for his family. He did not overly enjoy the cart, the heavy bike, or the work; nevertheless, he worked hard to help his family.

He relates the following regarding a blessing that came from that challenging work experience:
“Many years later, when I was about to be drafted into the military, I decided to volunteer instead and join the Air Force to become a pilot. I loved flying and thought being a pilot would be my thing.
“To be accepted for the program I had to pass a number of tests, including a strict physical exam. The doctors were slightly concerned by the results and did some additional medical tests. Then they announced, ‘You have scars on your lung which are an indication of a lung disease in your early teenage years, but obviously you are fine now.’ The doctors wondered what kind of treatment I had gone through to heal the disease. Until the day of that examination I had never known that I had any kind of lung disease. Then it became clear to me that my regular exercise in fresh air as a laundry boy had been a key factor in my healing from this illness. Without the extra effort of pedaling that heavy bicycle day in and day out, pulling the laundry cart up and down the streets of our town, I might never have become a jet fighter pilot and later a 747 airline captain. …
“If I had only known back then what I learned many years later—if I had only been able to see the end from the beginning—I would have had a better appreciation of these experiences, and it would have made my job so much easier.”5

It has been one year since I was baptized. During much of that year I have been in the hospital. Today I received the latest issue of the New Era, and in spite of extreme pain, turned through it. I want others to know how much of a blessing this magazine can be to those who are ill. It has been wonderful for me, as have the members of the ward who help to look after my needs.
Cheryl Ann TrumbullWilmington, Delaware