Gospel Story Finder

Brigham Young was still feeling sick in late August when he and the return company left the Salt Lake Valley for their trip back to Winter Quarters. Over the next three days, the small company traveled rapidly through dusty canyons and over steep Rocky Mountain passes.24 When they arrived on the other side, Brigham was glad to learn that Parley Pratt and John Taylor’s large caravan of Saints was only a few hundred miles away.
Brigham’s joy vanished a short time later, however, when he learned that the caravan was four hundred wagons larger than he had anticipated. The Twelve had spent all winter organizing Saints into companies according to the revealed will of the Lord. Now it appeared that Parley and John had disregarded that revelation and acted of their own accord.25
A few days later, Brigham and the return company met up with the caravan. Parley was in one of the lead companies, so Brigham quickly called a council with Church leaders to ask him why he and John had disobeyed the quorum’s instructions.26
“If I’ve done anything wrong, I am willing to right it,” Parley told the council. But he insisted that he and John had acted within their authority as apostles. Hundreds of Saints had died that year in Winter Quarters and other settlements along the Missouri River. And many families had been desperate to leave the area before another deadly season set in. Since some Saints in the companies the Twelve had organized were not yet prepared to leave, he and John had chosen to form new companies to accommodate those who were ready.27
“Our companies were perfectly organized,” Brigham countered, “and if they could not get through, we were responsible to them.” The Word and Will of the Lord had clearly directed each company to “bear an equal proportion” of the poor and the families of the men serving in the Mormon Battalion. Yet Parley and John had left many of these people behind.28
Brigham also disagreed that two apostles could overturn the decision of the quorum. “If the Quorum of the Twelve do a thing, it is not in the power of two of them to rip it up,” he said. “When we got the machine moving, it was not your business to stick your hands among the cogs to stop the wheel.”29
“I’ve done the best I could,” Parley said. “You say I could have done better, and if I am to take blame in it, and say I’ve done wrong—I’ve done wrong. I am guilty of an error and am sorry for it.”
“I forgive you,” Brigham replied. “And if I don’t do right,” he added, “I want every man so to live in the sunshine of glory to correct me when I’m wrong. I feel bowed down to the grave with the burden of this great people.”30
Brigham’s weariness was evident in his face and gaunt frame. “I look upon myself as a weak, poor little man. I was called by the providence of God to preside,” he said. “I want you to go right into the celestial kingdom with me.”
“I want to know if the brethren are satisfied with me,” Parley said.
“God bless you forever and ever,” Brigham said. “Don’t think any more about it.”31

Of all the presidential families, none had a greater collection of pets than the family of President Theodore Roosevelt. His six children, ranging in age from four to seventeen, were true animal lovers.
Pets were kept everywhere. There were horses, cats, dogs, guinea pigs, rabbits, squirrels, birds, and raccoons. Twelve-year-old Kermit even kept a small kangaroo rat under his bed, but it was kept a secret. “Don’t worry your mother,” President Roosevelt cautioned his son. “That animal may be clean and harmless, but your mother would not sleep well knowing there was a rat in the house.”

UGH!
Uh … are you OK?
No! This homework is way too hard. I’ll never get it!
Maybe I can help you.
There’s no point. I’m not smart like you.
You can do this. You just need a little help—and that’s OK! I got help from Papai.
I also asked Heavenly Father to help me understand. Do you want to say a prayer?
Good idea.
Later …
See? I knew you would get it.
Thanks for helping me!
Illustrations by Katie McDee

Many years ago I heard the story of the son of King Louis XVI of France. King Louis had been taken from his throne and imprisoned. His young son, the prince, was taken by those who dethroned the king. They thought that inasmuch as the king’s son was heir to the throne, if they could destroy him morally, he would never realize the great and grand destiny that life had bestowed upon him.
They took him to a community far away, and there they exposed the lad to every filthy and vile thing that life could offer. They exposed him to foods the richness of which would quickly make him a slave to appetite. They used vile language around him constantly. They exposed him to lewd and lusting women. They exposed him to dishonor and distrust. He was surrounded 24 hours a day by everything that could drag the soul of a man as low as one could slip. For over six months he had this treatment—but not once did the young lad buckle under pressure. Finally, after intensive temptation, they questioned him. Why had he not submitted himself to these things—why had he not partaken? These things would provide pleasure, satisfy his lusts, and were desirable; they were all his. The boy said, “I cannot do what you ask for I was born to be a king.”

Joe and Zella Wendel went on a mission. Her legs were bothering her, and they got worse in the mission field instead of better. She wrote home, “I thought we were just to work in the office, but now we find we are to proselyte also. But my knees are so bad we just can’t go out looking for people, so we are praying very hard to find someone right here in our apartment building.” In three months they had three baptisms—new move-ins from their apartment building! Those missionaries were my parents.

As a young boy, I was deeply touched by the story of the boy Samuel, who heard the Lord calling and was taught to answer, “Speak, Lord; for thy servant heareth.” [2] I remember thinking, “If God knows a boy like Samuel, then He must know me, too.”

But then questions began to grow in my heart: If God called prophets back then, where are His prophets today? Does God still speak? These questions led me to search earnestly for a God who speaks to His children.

In that search, I spent hours and hours with different religious leaders. I spent many days arguing and trying to prove them wrong. At the time, I thought faith was something you won with words. I was driven by a desire to win, to outsmart people with my Bible-bashing. Even though I won a number of those arguments, I always walked away feeling empty inside.

So when someone warned me not to meet with the missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, it sounded like an invitation to seek them out. And I did. When I found them, I was prepared to debate. They were young and not very experienced in the Bible, and I thought, “This is going to be easy!”

I asked them the same question I had asked many in the past: “Do you believe in a God who speaks—like He spoke to Adam, to Moses, to Isaiah, to Elijah—and to my favorite prophet, Samuel?”

They began to share the story of a young boy who went into a grove of trees to pray. And as they described what happened in answer to his prayer, my heart burned within me. They shared Joseph Smith’s words:

“I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me. … When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!” [3]

As they shared that story, something happened inside of me. My heart was touched in a way I could not argue or reason away. I had no desire to debate. All that was left was simple and sincere to know: Does God still speak?

I knew then—and I know now—that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to the boy Joseph Smith and called him to be a prophet.

It was a settled, confident, and personal witness. Joseph describes that kind of witness from God this way: “I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it.” [4]

Moroni’s promise became real to me:

“[God] will manifest the truth … unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. … And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” [5]

I learned that God is not silent. Revelation is real.

That is how my testimony of the Restoration began.

Fortunately, there are seldom-reported but marvelous-to-consider stories of great patience. Recently I attended the funeral of a lifelong friend. His son told a beautiful story of parental patience. When the son was in his youth, his dad owned a motorcycle dealership. One day they received a shipment of shiny new motorcycles, and they lined them all up in the store. The boy did what every boy would like to do, and he climbed up on the closest one. He even started it up. Then, when he figured he had pushed his luck far enough, he jumped off. To his dismay, his dismount knocked the first bike down. Then, like a string of dominoes, they all went down, one after another. His dad heard the commotion and looked out from behind the partition where he was working. Slowly, smiling, he said, “Well, Son, we had better fix one up and sell it, so we can pay for the rest of them.”

I think my friend’s response personifies parental patience.

Several years ago my oldest grandson who had been a deacon for a year came to me and said, “Grandpa, I have been a hundred percenter ever since I was ordained a deacon a year ago.” I said, “What do you mean by a hundred percenter?” Of course I knew, but he responded, “I haven’t missed a sacrament meeting, Sunday School, or priesthood meeting since I was ordained a deacon.”
I congratulated him and said, “John, if you will continue to be a hundred percenter until you are old enough to go on a mission, I will finance your mission.” He smiled and said, “I’ll do it.”
I thought I was perfectly safe, but he set about to be a hundred percenter. I remember on two occasions how he disciplined himself in order to accomplish his undertaking. One time his uncle invited him to go for a trip with him and his boys where they would be gone over Sunday. John said, “Is there any place I can attend my meetings on Sunday?” and as he was told there was not, he said, “No, I can’t go. I am going to be a hundred percenter,” and therefore sacrificed a lovely trip to the ocean and an island on which they were going to celebrate.
Another time near a weekend he broke his leg. The first thing he asked his doctor was, “Will I be able to attend Church on Sunday? I have to be a hundred percenter.” He came, of course, on crutches.
When he became 19 years of age, he said, “Grandpa, I have been a hundred percenter ever since we made that deal.” I was very happy to finance him on his mission. This achievement has been a great influence in his life. It is not so difficult for him to discipline himself and do those things which are right for him to do and which will bring him success.

The childlike faith of a follower of the divine Christ is a choice spiritual gift. It can be enjoyed by young and old. In the early days of the Church, a young boy by the name of Will Cluff, 10 years of age, living in Nauvoo, had a remarkable, pure faith. He had an experience to which many of us can relate.
His family was poor and had only one cow, which they depended on for food. In the spring of 1842 the cow strayed off. One evening in August his father came home very weary and discouraged. He and Will’s brothers had spent much of the summer looking for the cow. Will said, “Father, if you will let me take Charley (an old horse) I will go and find the cow.” His father reluctantly said he could.
Early next morning Will rode to the Big Mound, three miles east and in the prairie country. Here he had often herded cows with other boys from Nauvoo. He got off the horse and, holding it by the bridle, knelt down and fervently prayed the Lord to direct him which way to go to find the cow. He climbed back on the horse and rode south, a course he was impressed to take even though there were numerous bunches of cattle in every direction.
After traveling a few miles in the open prairie and passing hundreds of cattle, Will came to a fence. He dismounted and let down the stake, led his horse in, put up the fence, then rode three miles across the field. He again found himself in the open prairie with numerous bunches of stock in every direction. When he had gone about a quarter of a mile from the field, he rode right on to the cow, feeding alone some distance from any other animals.
Will started to drive the cow in the direction of the city. He arrived late in the evening, full of joy and thankful to his Father in Heaven.

When I was 15 years old, I decided to put the law of tithing to the test. I was working as a grocery bagger in Ponce, Puerto Rico. Every two hours I got a 15-minute break. During the break I would count how much I made in tips; then I would place my tithing money aside. After I started doing this systematically, I noticed that the amount of my tips increased! I don’t know that this was a result of divine intervention, but I knew that I was keeping a commandment and that when we keep commandments, sooner or later we receive blessings.
Of course, blessings don’t always come in quite the way we think they will. After I had been paying tithing for a while, I knew that what I was doing was sacred. It wasn’t just donating money to the Church. I was treating what the Lord had said with respect, and I was making sure my tithing was paid regularly and promptly. I was excited to do what I could to help build the kingdom of God.
Then one Sunday morning, I took longer than usual to wake up. My parents wanted to get to church early, so when I finally did get up, I was in a rush. I didn’t realize until we were at the meetinghouse that I had left my tithing money behind. “I’ll just pay it next week,” I thought. But I felt bad. I wanted Heavenly Father to know I was obedient.
After the meetings, we arrived home to find that our home had been burglarized. Jewelry, a video camera—pretty much everything that had value had been stolen. I rushed to my room and went through the drawer where I had left my tithing. It too was gone. Now I felt particularly bad. I felt that if I had remembered to bring my tithing to church, it would not be missing now.
Then I felt prompted to say something to my father: “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be OK. The person who robbed us took the Lord’s money, so he took something that is sacred.” I didn’t think the Lord would let that go unnoticed.
But I think the Lord wanted me to learn to be more careful with what belonged to Him. Soon the thief was apprehended, and everything was recovered—except my tithing money. To make things right, I took the same amount out of savings and took it to the bishop the very next Sunday. Ever since, I have always tried to pay my tithing in a timely manner. I know that tithing is a law from God, and that means I should take it seriously.

He also saw the gathering from every land when we didn’t have temples outside of Utah. When I filled my first mission in Holland, back in 195­7, as soon as we’d bring new converts into the Church, the first thing they wanted to do was to come to Zion. I was the secretary of the mission, and on our mission books we had many accounts of our people, humble people there, saving their money by nickels and dimes till they could get enough to come to Zion. I had a very earnest investigator, a businessman, who said, “I’ll never join your church.”

I said, “Why?”

“I don’t want to go to America.”

I said, “Good for you. You just join the Church and stay right here and help strengthen these branches.” He’d been a member only a few months when he came to me one day and said, “Brother Richards, I have a chance to sell my business.”

“What do you want to sell your business for?”

“Oh, I want to go to Zion.” And he came. They’d sell everything they had—their furniture and everything—and leave their loved ones and come to Zion. Isaiah saw all of this when he said that all nations should flow unto the mountain of the Lord.

I was raised on a small farm in northern Utah. My parents were good, hardworking, industrious people. In order to make ends meet, my father took outside employment. Each morning before he left for work, he would make a list of chores he wanted me to accomplish before he came home that evening.
On one occasion one of the items on the list was to take a small broken part from our hay rake to the blacksmith shop to have it repaired. I was uncomfortable about going. My father hadn’t left any money, and I wondered what I should do.
When all my other chores were finished, I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I can still remember walking the mile or so to the blacksmith shop. I even remember how uncomfortable I was as I watched him weld the part. As he finished, I nervously told him that I had no money, but that my father would pay him later.
He patted me on the shoulder and said, “Son, don’t worry. Your father’s word is as good as his bond.” I remember running all the way home, relieved that the part had been repaired and grateful that my father was known as a man whose word was as good as his bond.
As a boy I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but I knew it was good. It was years later that I recognized that a person whose word is as good as his bond is a person of honesty and integrity, a person to be trusted. In today’s world, there are some who think nothing of breaking their word, their promises, their covenants with man and with God.
Honesty and integrity are not old-fashioned principles. They are just as viable in today’s world. We have been taught in the Church that:
When we say we will do something, we do it.
When we make a commitment, we honor it.
When we are given a calling, we fulfill it.
When we borrow something, we return it.
When we have a financial obligation, we pay it.
When we enter into an agreement, we keep it.
President N. Eldon Tanner related the following experience: “A young man came to me and said, ‘I made an agreement with a man that requires me to make certain payments each year. I am in arrears, and I can’t make those payments, for if I do, it is going to cause me to lose my home. What shall I do?’
“I looked at him and said, ‘Keep your agreement.’
“‘Even if it costs me my home?’
“I said, ‘I am not talking about your home. I am talking about your agreement; and I think your wife would rather have a husband who would keep his word, meet his obligations, keep his pledges or his covenants, and have to rent a home than to have a home with a husband who will not keep his covenants and his pledges’” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1966, 99).
We are all familiar with the statement “Honesty is the best policy.” For members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, honesty is the only policy. We must be honest with our fellowmen. We must be honest with our God. We are honest with God when we honor the covenants we make with Him.
We are a covenant-making people. We make covenants at the waters of baptism. We renew those covenants each week as we worthily partake of the sacrament. We take upon ourselves the name of Christ; we promise to always remember Him and to keep His commandments. And in return He promises us that His Spirit will always be with us. We make covenants as we enter into the temple, and in return we receive the promised blessings of eternal life—if we keep those sacred covenants.
If we honor the commitments and covenants that we make with God and with our fellowmen, then it can be said of each of us, “Our word is as good as our bond.”

The year I was 19 I was invited to spend the Christmas holidays working tours for the Hilton Hotel in Los Angeles with my cousin. We would be able to visit all the main attractions in the L.A. area and get paid for it too. I called for plane reservations far too late, and the only transportation still available to get me to L.A. was the bus. I would leave Logan, Utah, on Christmas Day at noon. My sister dropped me off at the Greyhound stop and I waited for the bus to come. When it arrived I remember feeling quite festive and happy because of the day and the prospect of the adventure. As I boarded the bus and looked about I saw only a few riders. They all seemed preoccupied with something outside the window. No one looked up and nobody smiled.
I took my seat. Several stops later we picked up two little girls. They were totally laden with recently opened gifts, and I was delighted when they sat down across the aisle from me. I was feeling a little lonely that it was Christmas Day and there hadn’t been anyone to talk with. I was to learn that their names were Trisha and Debbie and they were on their way for their annual Christmas visit with their grandparents in St. George, Utah. At the time they were in the third and fifth grades. One by one they pulled out their treasures and showed me each gift they had received.
The day progressed and soon the early evening was upon us. We stopped in a little town for a supper break. As I was exiting the bus I noticed that the only street lamp that was lit was the one above the stop. The night was very dark, and there seemed to be a million stars in the sky. The small crowd of people from the bus ate quietly, and I felt let down that it was Christmas and everyone seemed void of the spirit. As I look back I wonder now if all those folks were just sad to be apart from the people they love on Christmas Day.
I had been doing my student teaching with some fourth graders that quarter at Utah State University and I had taught them the song “Silent Night” in sign language. As we sat and waited to be beckoned back to the bus, I asked the girls if they would like to learn it. They enthusiastically said yes and I began teaching it to them. The signs to the first verse are very simple, and they had it all learned before we boarded the bus.
After we settled back into our seats, Trisha said to her sister, “Debbie, we should practice our song so we can show it to Grandma and Grandpa when we get to St. George.” Debbie agreed and they spread their coats onto the floor of the bus and settled down facing each other to practice. I glanced up to see that several of the other passengers on the bus were visiting quietly and some of the overhead lights were on. People seemed to have relaxed a little. Now that Christmas was coming to a close, maybe they were feeling better about having spent it on a bus.
The girls started singing, “Silent Night, Holy Night, All is calm, All is bright …” After finishing the song they began again. I glanced up. Having been so totally involved with coaching them, I hadn’t noticed that all the lights in the bus had been turned off. The only light that remained on was the one above the girls’ seats. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I could see the eyes of the other passengers upon us. They were looking over their seats and down the aisle of the bus. The only sound was the hum of the bus and voices of the two girls clear and strong. The light above their seats reflected off their hands and emphasized the signs. The quiet that came over the bus was not the empty one I had been feeling throughout that day. It was one of peace and joy.
The true spirit of Christmas came through to all of us who had the opportunity to be riding that bus that night. It was not connected with gift giving or even with family. I was overwhelmed at the realization that I had been searching for the spirit of Christmas at the mall, at the theater, under the tree, and in dozens of busy holiday functions, and all the time it could be found in the humblest of situations. Here it was with all its power and mystery on a bus full of strangers headed for St. George, Utah.
I wondered if Trisha and Debbie were aware of the wonderful gift they gave to those of us riding the bus that night. Each Christmas since then they write to me and talk of the first Christmas when we met. Perhaps they too felt the warmth that permeated through the crowd that night. I find myself searching each year for that very same feeling that rushed through my soul that night and filled me with a love for other people and for the Savior.

Illustration by Bryan Beach
I glanced out the car window. The sign was still there. Right outside our neighborhood, there was a store with a giant picture of someone without many clothes on. I didn’t want to see it.
Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Just don’t look at it, Gary.”
I turned my head. “I try not to, but it’s hard when we have to drive by it almost every day.”
“I know,” Mom said. “We can’t choose what pictures other people put up, but we can choose not to look at them.”
“I wish it wasn’t there at all.”
“Me too.”
I didn’t like seeing bad pictures in my town. To make things worse, there was another bad picture in a store window right by our church building! I hated seeing that right before going into church. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. I also didn’t like thinking about my three younger brothers seeing things like that.
Maybe there was something I could do about it.
“Hey, Mom, do you think if I wrote them a letter they would take it down?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said. “But I think it’s a great idea to try.”
I nodded. “Will you help me look up that store’s address when we get home?”
“Of course.”
That night, I sat down at the kitchen table with a notebook. My plan was to write two letters, one to each of the stores that had the bad pictures in their windows.
I stared at the blank paper. What could I say? For a minute, I thought about one of my favorite scripture stories, David and Goliath. I felt like David. I was just a kid. Would they even listen to me?
But David had something going for him that Goliath didn’t. He had help from Heavenly Father! That’s what I needed. I bowed my head and said a prayer to know what to write.
Then I started writing.
I tried to be polite and respectful. I wanted to make sure they knew how I felt every time I saw those pictures. I told them how much I didn’t want my little brothers to see them either. I said that I wished they could find something else to put in their window. When I finished writing the letters, I had a good feeling inside.
“What do you think, Dad?” I asked. Dad read through my letters and nodded.
“These are great! I wouldn’t change a thing.”
So I put them in envelopes and dropped them in the mailbox.
“I guess now we wait,” I said. My family and I prayed that Heavenly Father would take things from there. We trusted that if it was His will, something would happen.
For a while, nothing happened. Then one day, Mom and Dad said they had something to show us. We all piled into the car and drove to the first store. The picture was gone!
“You were so brave to write those letters, and look what happened!” Mom said.
“They took it down!” I shouted.
I said another prayer right then in the car, thanking Heavenly Father for His help. And then we got even more good news.
When we drove to church that Sunday, we saw that the other store had taken their bad picture down too. I couldn’t believe it. I was so grateful Heavenly Father had answered our prayers. When we do our best to keep our minds pure, God will help us. ?
Thanks to Gary P. for your great example!And for sharing your story!

I was also able to enjoy that same Christ-centered culture growing up in a home where my father honored his priesthood and gained the trust of the entire family due to “the integrity of his heart.”7 Let me share with you an experience from my youth that illustrates the lasting positive impact that a father who understands and lives the principle of trust built on integrity can have on his family.

When I was very young, my father founded a company that specialized in factory automation. This business engineered, fabricated, and installed automated production lines worldwide.

When I was in middle school, my father wanted me to learn how to work. He also wanted me to learn the business from the ground up. My first job included maintaining the grounds and painting areas of the facility not visible to the general public.

When I entered high school, I was promoted to work on the factory floor. I started to learn how to read blueprints and run heavy steel fabrication machinery. After high school graduation, I attended university and then entered the mission field. Returning home from my mission, I went straight back to work. I needed to earn money for the next year’s school expenses.

One day soon after my mission, I was working in the factory when my father called me into his office and asked if I would like to go with him on a business trip to Los Angeles. This was the first time my father invited me to accompany him on a business trip. He was actually letting me go out in public to help represent the company.

Before we left on the trip, he prepared me with a few details about this potential new client. First, the client was a multinational corporation. Second, they were upgrading their production lines worldwide with the latest in automation technology. Third, our company had never previously supplied them with engineering services or technology. And finally, their top corporate officer in charge of purchasing had called this meeting to review our bid on a new project. This meeting represented a new and potentially important opportunity for our company.

After arriving in Los Angeles, my father and I went to the executive’s hotel for the meeting. The first order of business was to discuss and analyze the engineering design specifications of the project. The next discussion item concerned operational details, including logistics and delivery dates. The concluding agenda item focused on pricing, terms, and conditions. This is where things got interesting.

This corporate officer explained to us that our price proposal was the lowest of those who had submitted bids on the project. He then, curiously, told us the price of the second-lowest bid. He then asked us if we would be willing to take our proposal back and resubmit it. He stated that our new price should come in just below the next highest bid. He then explained that we would split the newly added dollars 50–50 with him. He rationalized this by saying that everyone would win. Our company would win because we would be making considerably more money than our original bid provided. His company would win because they would still be doing business with the lowest bidder. And, of course, he would win by taking his cut because he put this great deal together.

He then gave us a post office box number where we could send the money he requested. After all of this, he looked at my father and asked, “So, do we have a deal?” Much to my surprise, my father stood up, shook his hand, and told him we would get back to him.

After leaving the meeting, we got into the rental car, and my father turned to me and asked, “Well, what do you think we should do?”

I responded by saying I didn’t think we should accept this offer.

My father then asked, “Don’t you think we have a responsibility to all of our employees to maintain a good backlog of work?”

While I was contemplating his question and before I could answer, he answered his own question. He said, “Listen, Rick, once you take a bribe or compromise your integrity, it is very difficult to ever get it back. Don’t ever do it, not even once.”

The fact that I’m sharing this experience means that I have never forgotten what my father taught me on that first business trip with him. I share this experience to illustrate the lasting influence we have as fathers. You can imagine the trust I had in my father due to the integrity of his heart. He lived these same principles in his private life with my mother, his children, and all with whom he associated.

Another example of dedication is found in the life of Julia Smith Ballard. Julia made a burial suit for one of her little nephews when she was sixteen and another the next year for one of her sisters. She found satisfaction in this occupation and took it up as a lifetime call. For the next thirty-five years she made temple and burial clothing for more than 400 persons, nearly all without special remuneration.22 At one time one of her daughters—she had twelve children—had been promised a new dress for a special occasion. She rushed home from school full of anticipation only to find her mother sewing on burial clothes. Her disappointment was so great that she burst into tears and said, “I wish folks would quit dying so us kids could have something to wear.”23 Thus did Julia show her love for the gospel.

“You hide your horses in this grove of trees by the tracks. The train will be coming up the grade out of the canyon. Mike, you flag it down. The rest of you board the train. I’ll be up in front here and shoot anything that moves. All right, let’s go!”
That wasn’t Butch Cassidy talking. That was me, and that day I shot horses, people, trains, a guy carrying a canoe, and a bird watchers club by mistake. I shot them with a super-8 movie camera as part of one of the greatest, most colossal spectacles ever to hit the silver screen—at least we thought so: “The Great Train Robbery” (we titled it) produced by the Edgemont Fourth Ward Aaronic Priesthood MIA and featuring a cast of dozens (including some we hadn’t planned on).
If you’re looking for a different activity for your Aaronic Priesthood MIA, maybe a movie spectacular is the answer. A movie is a large undertaking, but it’s fun, and you may excite some previously unexcited kids. We did. Don’t worry too much about the technical aspects of movie making. Enthusiasm covers a multitude of blunders, and humility covers the rest. There is almost always a willing expert in the ward or neighborhood or down at the camera shop.
We started out like this:
“Let’s make a movie,” said the members of the bishops youth committee.
“Great idea,” said the ever-enthusiastic drama specialist. “Uh … which end of the camera do you point?”
Fortunately today’s automatic camera equipment is designed with a medium I.Q. in mind. You don’t have to be Stanley Kramer to come out with something on the film. Speaking of equipment, snoop around the ward a little. Especially after Christmas. You can probably unearth both a camera and cameraman. If worse comes to absolute worst, you can usually rent equipment from a camera store.
You will probably want your colossal extravaganza to run more than three minutes (that’s the length of a roll of film), so you’ll need a film editing machine and some adhesive splicing tabs to stick the films together—also available at the camera store. Anybody who finds film editing exciting has lived a very uneventful life. Also, the handy-dandy splicing tapes require the finger dexterity of a professional pickpocket. But it has to be done, so stick with it (pun intended). It is satisfying when you’ve finished. Film and development are the biggest costs, of course. We spent $105.00 for a 25-minute epic. Writing the script isn’t hard; just remember to put in plenty of action, plenty of people, plenty of outdoors. Look around for any unusual settings for action scenes. Is there a park with an old airplane, or an outdoor museum? Are there stores, houses, or barns with unusual exteriors? If nothing else, is there an open space where you can stage an indian raid or a medieval jousting tournament?
We decided on a train robbery because we had the elements close at hand. The Heber Creeper is an old-time steam engine that carries sightseers between Heber, Utah, and lower Provo Canyon. The owners were happy to participate in the robbery and even showed us the best spot to pull off the job.
Our ward had enough riding enthusiasts to get the outlaw band more or less mounted. We had purebred stallions, ancient hay burners, a Shetland pony, and one reluctant donkey. He was the only member of the cast who didn’t think it was a good idea. We first noticed this lack of enthusiasm when we had to drag him stiff-legged down the road behind my Volkswagen to load him on a truck. If you’ve got 53 horsepower on one end of the rope and one donkey power on the other, you’ve got a toss-up contest that could go either way. But we finally won.
We loaded him and the rest of the horses and outlaws and headed for the hills.
The train route winds through Provo Canyon, then hugs the hillside around Deer Creek reservoir, and cuts through the fields and pastures of Heber Valley. We set up near a grove of trees and waited.
“Here she comes!” shouted the lookout.
I hollered, “Lights! Action! Roll ’em!” (Whatever that means.)
Lights and roll ’em we didn’t get, but action we did. One blast of the engine whistle and every horse sponsored his own Kentucky Derby in his own direction. Only the donkey was left. He was too ornery to be scared. He just stood stiff-legged by the tracks and sang two-part harmony with the train as it thundered by.
The Creeper was a white puff of smoke in the distance by the time we rounded up the last of the horses, so we dubbed in the train scene later. Speaking of dubbing in, try as much as possible to shoot the scenes in order. Rehearse them while looking through the camera; then try to get it right the first take. It will save film costs and editing time later.
Our script called for a brawl scene climaxed by a pie in the face. For this scene we got the bishop’s permission, because he got the pie in the face. Blueberry cream. It was a beautiful scene and performed with excellent taste, the bishop said.
Close-ups and reaction-to-the-action shots help pace the action. And also try to frame your characters as large as practical in the shot unless it’s a deliberate long shot or scenery shot. Mount your camera on a tripod whenever possible. Even though your cameraman lives the Word of Wisdom, he’s got shaky hands.
You can get synchronized sound with some super-8 movie cameras, but this was more trouble and expense than we wanted. We used a silent screen format with printed titles to show the dialogue and credits. You can type these and photograph them with a close-up attachment on the movie camera. Here, especially, use the tripod, We recorded a rinky-tink piano background (put thumbtacks in the piano hammers to get the “tink”). We play the tape whenever we show the movie.
Showing the movie is, of course, the climax, particularly the premiere showing. We staged a variety show titled “Salute to the Silver Screen.” The whole ward was invited (and came), and the kids did songs, dances, and skits based on great movies of the past. (Unfortunately most of the great movies are in the past.) Then we honored the cast and showed the movie. “The Great Train Robbery” will never get an Oscar, but it was a “ward winning” movie.

Thanks so much for the article “Picture This” (Sept. 1994). I decided to put a picture of Christ in my locker too. It took me a few days to actually put it up, but when I did I noticed an instant change in myself, in the way I thought about and treated other people. Now every day at school I look at myself in my mirror, then at the picture of Christ, and it reminds me to be as Christlike as possible. Being one of only four members of the Church at my school, I feel like it’s an example, not only to my member friends, but to other people as well.
Cari RickabaughSturtevant, Wisconsin

I am going to tell you one more experience. A few years ago two of the major churches on the west coast, including California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada, were holding a convention here in Salt Lake. Their leader wrote a letter to President McKay and asked if he would send one of the General Authorities to attend their convention and talk for two hours in the morning session and tell them the story of Mormonism, and then remain as their guest for lunch, and then remain for an hour and a half in the afternoon and let them ask questions. I got the assignment—and I was glad to get it! I tell the missionaries that you never need to argue with anybody when you learn how to tell our story.

Some of these ministers wanted to get away on earlier planes up to the Northwest, so they set the luncheon back a half an hour, and they gave me two and a half hours in that morning meeting. I explained the restoration of the gospel, the difference between a restoration and a reformation, and at the conclusion of my talk I only got one question out of all these ministers and church leaders.

The man in charge said, “Mr. Richards, you have told us that you believe that God is a personal God.”

I said, “That is right.”

He said, “We have heard it said that you believe that God has a wife. Would you explain that to us?”

I think he thought he had me in trouble, and so rather facetiously I said, “I don’t see how in the world he could have a son without a wife, do you?”

And they all began to titter. I didn’t have any more trouble with that question.

At the close of my remarks, I told them that while I was the Presiding Bishop of the Church, we had charge of the building program. We had the plans prepared for the Los Angeles Temple. One day we took them and showed them to the First Presidency, but we didn’t have the electrical or plumbing plans completed. We had 84 pages about 4 feet long and 2 1/2 feet wide, and I imagine you have all seen blueprints. I said, “Now you could take those blueprints and try to fit them to every building in this world, but there is only one building they will fit, and that is the Mormon temple down in Los Angeles.” Then I said, “Of course you can find buildings that have material in them such as cement, lumber, electrical wiring, plumbing, and so forth, but you can’t find any building that they will fit.”

Then I held up the Bible. I said, “Here is the Lord’s blueprint. Isaiah said the Lord had declared the end from the beginning. It is all here. Now,” I said, “you could take this, the Lord’s blueprint, and try to fit it to every church in this world, but there is only one church that it will fit, and that is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Now,” I said, “I will proceed to illustrate to you what I mean.”

I said that in Canon Frederick William Farrar’s work Life of Christ (Cassell, 1902), he said there were two passages in the New Testament for which he could find no excuse. The first is John 10:16, where Jesus said, “And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.”

I said, “Do any of you men know why that is in the Bible? Do any of you know any church in the world that does know why it is in the Bible? Well, we know all about it.” And then I explained the promise to Joseph of a new land in the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills, and in describing that land, Moses uses the word precious five times in just a few verses. (See Deut. 33:13–16.)

I said, “Do any of you know where that land of Joseph is?” Then I explained that it was the land of America, and that Jesus visited his people here in America, and he told them that they were the other sheep of whom he spoke to his disciples. (See 2 Ne. 15:21.) He said that not at any time did the Father command him to tell his disciples who the other sheep were, only that he had other sheep. (See 3 Ne. 15:15–17.)

The other passage they couldn’t understand was the one where Paul said, “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29.) I said, “Do any of you know why that is in the Bible? Do any of you know any church in the world that does know why it is in the Bible?” Then I explained this doctrine to them.

I quoted to them the words of Peter following the day of Pentecost, when he said to those who had put to death the Christ, “And he shall send Jesus Christ, which before was preached unto you: Whom the heaven must receive until the times of restitution of all things, which God hath spoken by the mouth of all his holy prophets since the world began.” (Acts 3:20–21.)

That is not a reformation; that is a restitution. I said, “That is what I have been telling you here for two hours and a half, and you can’t look for the coming of the Savior as was promised by Peter and the prophets until there has been a restitution, and not a reformation.”

When I concluded, the man in charge said, “Mr. Richards, this has been one of the most interesting experiences of my entire life.” That is what Isaiah meant when he said, “… the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be hid.” (Isa. 29:14.)

Realizing that adversity can include suffering, destitution, affliction, calamity, or disaster, how can we best use it as an opportunity for personal growth and development? For one answer, let me share with you an incident in the life of a special friend, which he tells in his own words at my request. I find his experience a powerful sermon.
“It was the third Saturday in January a few years ago. I was excited to attend a seminar that morning. It was an agricultural seminar at the Brigham Young University, where I had been attending school. I had been home from my Honolulu Hawaii Mission six months and was going through all the adjustments of a returned missionary. The challenge of family, girls, school, and the fact that there were twenty-five thousand other students who were bright and aggressive—some with plenty of money; others, like myself, who were pinching every nickel—didn’t make things easier.
“I landed a job running a hydraulic press earlier that week in a machine shop. We made seals for hydraulic equipment. Following the seminar that morning, I went to work. Kimball, my roommate and former missionary companion who had gone to work earlier that morning, instructed me in how to make a new seal. After approximately twenty minutes, one of the smallest seals stuck on the face of the plate. I struggled to get it off with my left hand. As I turned back to give it my full attention and use my right hand, the machine closed on my left hand, causing a horrible noise as it crushed my hand just below the wrist. After what seemed an eternity, the huge press finally opened. My first thought when looking at my hand was ‘What a mess!’ Then that inner voice which I had come to know, love, and appreciate, whispered, ‘Jerry, you won’t have your hand.’
“Four hours of surgery followed. The first thing I remember hearing was the surgeon’s voice in the recovery room.
“‘Jerry,’ he said, ‘Can you hear me?’
“‘Yes,’ I said.
“‘We had to take your hand off.’
“The following four days were filled with tears, aches, friends, cards, letters, and family. Concerned people made it so much easier for me, especially Kimball. He let my parents and others close to me know and helped in every way he could. Never did I have to ask for one thing. It was already done. By his example and support, he gave me courage to face this new challenge.
“The days in the hospital were filled with painful, sleepless hours and nights. Those nights gave me an opportunity to think about the Savior and Joseph Smith as I had never done before. I reviewed the Prophet Joseph’s life from everything I had learned. He faced physical, emotional, and spiritual trial upon trial. How I marveled at his well-won victories. At this difficult time I promised the Lord I would try to accept all of my challenges as the Prophet Joseph Smith had accepted his.
“Of course, during the first night there were thoughts of ‘Why me? Was it something in my past? What have I done to deserve this?’ Then I thought, ‘No more rodeo, football, or skiing,’ and I wondered what type of a woman would want a one-handed husband. I hadn’t developed a good self-image or a great deal of self-esteem, so these thoughts magnified my concerns.
“Mom came to school and drove me home for the weekend. One thing she said that made me again appreciate her greatness was, ‘Jerry, if I could only give you my left hand and make it work, I would.’
“Sunday was fast Sunday. As I stood favoring my bandaged, shortened arm, I thanked everyone for their thoughts, prayers, and cards. I realized as never before that good friends and faithful family members make challenges less difficult.
“After the testimony meeting, an admired friend gave me a special blessing. So many questions were answered during his blessing. He told me this accident was not punishment for anything I had done but, rather, an opportunity to help me become a better person and to amplify those particular traits which needed to be developed. He shared the thought that this challenge could make me more understanding of people, problems, and life. As I look back now, each point of his blessing and encouragement has helped in a very fulfilling way.
“One of my greatest fears was the constant thought of how people would accept me. Would they be afraid of me, question my ability, or write me off before I could prove myself? Would girls turn down dates because I was different? Would it make them feel uncomfortable to be seen with me?
“I had dated several girls since my mission but had only dated Julie a couple of times. When I awoke the day following the operation in the hospital, she was there with other friends. I asked everyone else to leave the room, and I then proceeded to give her what I thought was the perfect speech. I told her that they had to take my hand off. If she felt embarrassed or ashamed to be with me or be seen with me on future dates, she need not feel obligated to continue in any future courtship. At that moment I could see fire in her eyes. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she was not there out of pity or duty, but only because she cared for me. She indicated she would help me but never feel sorry for me. Six months later we were married in the Salt Lake Temple.
“There were many job interviews, prejudices, and rejections of employment; but with continued encouragement, the Lord blessed us in innumerable ways. When our first little girl, Bracken, arrived, it left us short of money to go to school. So after a major decision, we went into business, which proved to be another learning experience. After a couple of years—with many reverses—I was able to find a career in personnel management, which not only fulfilled my goals but also answered my prayers.
“Today as I look back, I see the challenge of adversity as something upon which to build. Of course, I cannot say the experience was pleasant; it was horrible. However, I hope I have used this adversity in a positive way. When I see others in trouble, in pain, when real adversity is knocking, I have an opportunity not only to feel something of what they feel but perhaps I can also help them because they can see that I have challenges of my own.”