Gospel Story Finder

Chita’s Christmas Tree
When Chita and Papa go to look for a Christmas tree, Mama packs them peanut butter sandwiches. But they get hot, sugary waffles from the waffle man and give the sandwiches to Henry, their horse (he loves them!). Chita finds the perfect tree, and Papa carves her name on the trunk. Will Santa Claus find it and bring it Christmas Eve? Chita worries about it as she helps Mama bake.

Today is January 19, 2021. Almost exactly 175 years ago, on February 4, 1846, Charles Shumway ferried across the Mississippi River and started the westward migration of Latter-day Saints from Nauvoo, Illinois. For three weeks in frigid temperatures, wagons ferried across the river, often steering clear of large ice chunks. After Charles C. Rich walked across the Mississippi on February 25, scores of additional refugees crossed the river on solid ice.1 The winter phase of this mass exodus was directed by President Brigham Young—the well-known Camp of Israel trek across Iowa involving approximately 3,000 Saints.

The spring phase of the exodus included three large waves of refugees departing Nauvoo and involved more than 10,000 Saints—triple the ­number in the winter departure.

The fall phase of the exodus included about 700 Saints who were forced from Nauvoo at gunpoint.

The winter withdrawal from Nauvoo in particular caused unimaginable hardship for these faithful Latter-day Saints, and many sought shelter in camps along the Mississippi River. When word reached Brigham Young at Winter Quarters about the condition of these exiles, he immediately sent a letter across the river to Council Point encouraging the brethren to help—reminding them of the covenant made in the Nauvoo Temple. He counseled: “Now is the time for labor. Let the fire of the covenant which you made in the house of the Lord burn in your hearts, like flame unquenchable.”2 Within days, wagons were rolling eastward to rescue the struggling Saints.

Though a moratorium on the registration of new churches in Rwanda stood in the way of launching formal missionary work or obtaining a meetinghouse, the Saints longed to see a branch created. As they continued to meet, the Lord gathered other Rwandan Saints to Kigali from different parts of the earth.
Yvonne Martin, who joined the Church in Scotland, arrived in November 2007 and began sharing the gospel with her friends. Jean Marie and Agathe Rumanyika, who had met missionaries in Missouri before business interests brought them back to Kigali, came in time to offer their home and, later, their hotel to host meetings as the group outgrew the Samuel home. Ruth Opar, a returned missionary, and former Relief Society president who had joined the Church in Kenya, came back to see if Kigali would be a good place to settle her family. The Kigali Branch was organized on March 16, 2008. Later that month Joshua Opar—Ruth’s husband and a former bishop—moved into the branch with their children.

Ellen Grae lives with Mrs. McGruder in the small town of Thicket so that she may go to the same school her father attended. She has a terrific imagination and tells such interesting stories that most people think she has made them up. Ellen; Grover, a friend who is one year older than Ellen; Ira, a friendly, misunderstood, silent man; and his goat, Missouri, have interesting adventures together. Ellen finds out about a strange secret. She knows that should anyone else find out about this secret, Ira would be in serious trouble. What Ellen decides to do makes good reading.

Several years ago I had as a special acquaintance and good friend an Aaronic Priesthood-age boy from whom I learned some of life’s special lessons. He came from what we commonly refer to as a good family, but his parents seemed to take the heart of the gospel for granted. They were willing to attend most of their meetings on Sunday, if it was convenient. They were warm people and friendly—always receptive to the brethren and sisters who came to their home. But I doubt if they had family prayer very often, and I’m sure family home evening was something occasionally discussed but seldom experienced. With no real personal attention, the children were allowed to come and go as they pleased.
On one occasion my young friend told me he was sure that his parents loved him, but, oh, how he wished they cared about him! You know, to a young person there can be a difference. He said he wished just once as he went out the door they would ask him where he was going and when he would be home. He wanted them to give him some guidelines. He confessed that he wasn’t always sure of the judgments that were left to him. If only they had cared enough.
Now, years later, the offspring of this family have experienced the birth of illegitimate children, divorce in their own marriages, runaways, drug addiction, and most everything else that can be tragic in our lives.

Sometimes our guide, like a mariner, works closely with us, teaching us what we need to know so we can successfully navigate life. In many cases the mariner accomplishes this by setting the example for us to follow. Such was the case with Patricia Horiuchi’s father, Frank.

After meeting the missionaries, Frank began regularly inviting them over for dinner. Soon he started taking the lessons. But no one else in his family wanted anything to do with the Church. “When we saw the missionaries coming,” Patricia says, “we would all run away—me and my younger brothers and sisters.”

Then Frank was baptized in July 2007 by the mission president, Nelson Bleak. It was a defining moment for Patricia and her siblings.

“I saw my father starting to change,” she says. “I knew that if the gospel could touch my father’s heart, it could touch mine and change my life. So I decided to study with the sister missionaries, and they challenged me to study the Book of Mormon and the Bible. My brother and I had had a fight before that, and I had never forgiven him. Then I read in the scriptures that if you forgive others, God will forgive you.” (See 3 Nephi 13:14–15.)

Patricia realized she had to forgive her brother in order to begin changing her life, be clean, and have peace. So she did.

“After I threw away my bad attitudes and changed to a new person who kept the commandments, I was so excited. I knew I had to get baptized so I could be in the true Church,” she says. “The Church put me on the right track. It separated me from bad influences. It taught me to respect my parents, to stay in school, and to keep on the right track.”

I’m a Swedish reader of the New Era. It’s a super magazine, and I love to read every word of it. I got it from a friend in Provo, Utah, as a Christmas present, and now I can’t be without it for a single month. The Church has made me happier I’m feeling free. My life is much richer now. Even my mom says I’m always glad now and always help her when she needs help. Now I do my homework properly too. My English is getting much better now so I can write to my friends in Provo and read the New Era more easily! Right now I’m waiting for the August issue. I liked “There Is a Law” in the July issue. The message, “John and Mary, Beginning Life Together,” in the June issue has gone right into my heart, and I’ve read it over and over again! I’m still a nonmember, but I think I’ll soon be ready for baptism. May God bless you.
Marie JonssonSundbyberg, Sweden

The following experience is an example of how this principle can work.
Two young missionaries knocked on a door, hoping to find someone to receive their message. The door opened, and a rather large man greeted them in a less-than-friendly voice: “I thought I told you not to knock on my door again. I warned you before that if you ever came back, it would not be a pleasant experience. Now leave me alone.” He quickly closed the door.
As the elders walked away, the older, more experienced missionary put his arm on the younger missionary’s shoulder to comfort and encourage him. Unknown to them, the man watched them through the window to be sure they understood his message. He fully expected to see them laugh and make light of his curt response to their attempted visit. However, as he witnessed the expression of kindness between the two missionaries, his heart was instantly softened. He reopened the door and asked the missionaries to come back and share their message with him.

I remember many years ago when a man, both prominent and well-to-do, came to see Stephen L Richards, who was then a member of the First Presidency. The man had a son who was denied a missionary call because of his moral misbehavior. The man was very forceful, almost demanding, in his request that the son be permitted to go. At the time I had responsibility for the missionary program of the Church and was in the room when the conversation took place. After the man had finished his lengthy and demanding argument, President Richards said, “Brother, I have some responsibility for the affairs of this Church. You do also. If you were seated where I sit, knowing the circumstances that I know, you would feel exactly as I do. Now, in your position as a member of this Church, as one who holds the priesthood, you too have responsibility for its growth and program, and for its discipline. My heart goes out to you, for I know that what you say comes of love for your son. However, I am asking you, as a man with a responsibility for the progress of the Church, to look at the larger affairs of the kingdom. Then you make the decision in that light.” After a thoughtful silence, it was the father who made the decision that his son should not go.

At the age of 17 I went with my parents on a trip to Mexico and Central America. I am the youngest and with the others gone from home it was just the three of us. We saw so many wonderful places and ancient archeological sites. On one occasion, we arrived at a pyramid, we stood at the base and marveled at the grand structure before us. With much excitement and anticipation, we started up the steps. There were so many people, going up and down so many steps. In his excitement, my dad soon outpaced us in our ascension. We were perhaps an eighth of the way up when my mom suddenly froze. Grabbing on to the step just in front of her so tight she exclaimed “I can’t do this. I’m stuck! “I can’t go up; I can’t go down. I will just have to stay right here.” I Looked around for my Dad only to find he was nowhere in sight, so, I tried to reason with her saying, “Let’s just take a break for a bit.” But each time I ventured some encouragement she would announce firmly, “but I can’t move.” So, there we were. I was sitting next to her on the very step she was clutching with her hands while she faced upward, absolutely frozen.

Until this point our life’s roles had been reversed, with her helping me. Gently guiding me through life’s big problems, big pyramids which seemed insurmountable at the time. She was gentle, soft and soothing. This time however, she needed me. Was I ready? Certainly, her example through my life had provided me with sufficient preparation.

Initially I needed to get my mom’s focus away from her predicament, so, very tenderly I coaxed her to turn around and sit down. Then, I suggested to her to just think of one step at a time. This seemed to be something she could do. So, gingerly at first, we ventured down one simple step. At first, I actually had to move and place her feet on the next downward step. Our progress was slow but steadily we made our way down. We went down that pyramid together scooting on our rear ends one step at a time. Until we made it safely to solid ground.For the rest of the pyramid sight-seeing, my mom spent her time on the ground, under a shady tree while my Dad and I climbed around, up and down.

While I was a little boy during the Second World War, my country had been invaded; danger was all around us. My mother taught me a great lesson of trust and unity that I have never forgotten. She alerted me to the perils of war and simply said: “Trust my word and follow me; listen to my voice. If you do so, I will protect you the best I know how.” I simply listened to my mother because I loved her and trusted her.
A little later, school started, and this, for me, was a new bridge to cross. As a preparation for this new experience in my life, leaving the home, my mother told me to listen to my teacher and to be obedient. Again, I trusted my mother’s advice. I decided to be obedient to my teacher and a new code of rules. School therefore became a bridge of knowledge instead of a wall of ignorance.
That lesson of trust and unity was vital to become one with my parents, family members, and teachers. It allowed me later to become one with my Savior by being baptized into His Church. It reminded me as a husband, father, and grandfather to continue to build trust and unity among our family members by keeping the temple covenants. As President Hinckley has stated: “The temple is concerned with things of immortality. It is a bridge between this life and the next” (Stand a Little Taller [2001], 6).
In our day, it is so easy to isolate ourselves by erecting temporal, spiritual, and even family or religious walls. Let us instead build more bridges of faith, of reconciliation, and live by the peace that is given “not as the world giveth” (John 14:27), but by Jesus Christ, the Son of God. He is the bridge of faith unto eternity.
I testify that Jesus is the Christ; I put my trust in Him and in His gospel of salvation to be reunited someday. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Like many returned missionaries will tell you about their time serving the Lord, I absolutely loved my mission. For me, it was two years of almost nonstop spiritual experiences and blessings, watching and helping people come closer to Christ and overcoming periods of trial and homesickness. It was amazing, and I wouldn’t trade my mission for anything.
But my experience right after my mission was not what I had imagined. I came home and felt like I was suddenly facing all kinds of expectations about where I should go, what I should do, and how I should act. I felt blindsided by questions from others about my dating life and my career, and I didn’t have solid answers. And along with these extra expectations came increased temptation. Much like Nephi in the Book of Mormon, I felt “encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me” (2 Nephi 4:18).
I never stopped going to church or trying to fulfill my callings. I even got married in the temple. Still, I knew that there were parts of my behavior that were not the way they should be. I kept going back and forth between the testimony I had shared on my mission and the way I was behaving now. I knew that Heavenly Father and the Savior loved me, but even with that knowledge, I questioned why—why would They love a person like me who kept making such silly, easily avoidable mistakes? Or, for that matter, how could They love a person who made even more serious poor choices?
Eventually, I realized I needed to find answers to my questions. So I began to really study more about the Atonement of Jesus Christ and ponder the things I read and how they applied to me.
Moses 1:39 teaches that God’s purpose is “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” I knew that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is what makes the whole plan of salvation possible, and that it was through His Atonement that Christ took upon Himself “the pains and the sicknesses of his people” (Alma 7:11). During the agony of His suffering in Gethsemane, Christ suffered for all my sins and pains. He knows everything I have done and knows that I will fall short in the future. The suffering was so painful that He even asked God to “remove this cup from me.” And yet, even while suffering for the sins of all mankind, even after asking for the pain to go away, He still said, “Not my will, but thine, be done.” (See Luke 22:42.)
Studying Christ’s Atonement helped me understand that Heavenly Father and the Savior love me despite my shortcomings and my sins, but I still struggled to understand why They love me the way They do.
I finally found my answer after pondering Doctrine and Covenants 18:10: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.” This verse wasn’t new to me—I’d heard and read it dozens of times. However, this time the Spirit helped me understand that this verse did not just mean that it is God’s opinion that souls are valuable, as I had always interpreted it before. No, “the sight of God” means so much more.
In my limited sight, I was only seeing my poor choices in the moment. I was imagining myself making those same choices throughout the rest of my life. I was not seeing through God’s sight; He sees not only my current situation but also my potential.
Both Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know perfectly well that I have made and will make many mistakes. And through Their heavenly eternal perspective, They also see the total worth of my soul—They see what I can become. This is why Christ paid the price for my sins in Gethsemane and on the cross, even after understanding all the wrong that I would do.
Now, I know I’m not perfect. I will continue to fall short as I learn to be more like Christ. However, now I understand that when He said, “What manner of men ought ye to be? Verily I say unto you, even as I am” (3 Nephi 27:27), being “even as He is” includes having the heavenly vision to see my potential. Reaching that potential won’t be immediate. It likely won’t even be in this life. But I know by embracing the gift of repentance and focusing on Christ, I can look past the mistakes I make each day to see myself even as He is—even as I can become.

With the trusting nature of a child, four-year-old Chitalu Kennedy from Lusaka, Zambia ran into the open arms of Jesus! The moment was later captured on canvas by Latter-day Saint artist Liz Lemon Swindle in a heartwarming painting entitled Worth of a Soul. Since 2008, this painting has found a place in our hearts. We see the Savior draw this young, trusting child to Him. As we look into this young child’s eyes it may really be ourselves that we see. If we allow the Spirit in, it will testify that it is really each one of us that is cradled in His arms.
Kennedy was orphaned when both parents passed passed away from undiagnosed diseases just a couple of months apart. They left behind eight cherished children, the youngest just three weeks old. The lives of Kennedy and his brothers and sisters were forever changed. The emptiness and loss robbed him of hope. That feeling would follow him for many years. His Spirit craved acceptance, love and belonging.
Two years after his parents’ passing, on a sunny day in Lusaka West, Zambia at the Mothers Without Borders Children’s Center, where Kennedy and some of his siblings were being cared for, a man portraying the Savior arrived with the artist and a photographer where an environment was created with the desire to photograph African children with the Savior so that a much-needed painting could be created.
Kennedy was then four years old. With the innocence of a child, and fully believing this man to be the Savior, he broke loose from the grip of his sister Bridget’s hand and ran toward him. He jumped into his outstretched arms. Throughout the day, Kennedy rarely left his side. Was the Spirit whispering to him that something here was familiar?
As a young orphan, Kennedy depended on others for survival. Prior to being brought to the children’s center, he and his siblings were scattered among relatives. As with most experiences in life, some of the times were good, some desperate. Throughout it all, and despite separation from each other, the siblings remain bonded together. His older brother Bwalya was ever present in his life and took on the role of father and protector even though he was only two years older than Kennedy.
Kennedy was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when he was nine and became a baptized member at the age of eleven. Five siblings were also baptized.
As a young teenager, life became difficult for Kennedy when no funds were available for his continued housing, food and much desired education. It was at this time that BJ Warnick, Sandra Peters, and Anthony Mulenga—who had all known Kennedy since he was four—were able to take him into their care. Through their Heart to Hands Foundation, he and Bwalya were immediately adopted into their flock. While it was obvious that Kennedy needed the basics required for daily survival, what he really needed was hope and love and they had plenty of that to offer. Kennedy said while he was not officially adopted, it was even better. He now had two moms. With his new family’s help, he was able to complete grade twelve, obtain a driver’s license and complete auto mechanic school. Again, he was wrapped in the arms of his Savior, but it was through the acts of others. Kennedy remarked, “I don’t know who I would have become without the continual love of my enlarged family and friends who have dedicated so much time to me.”
It was a year ago that Kennedy made the decision to serve a mission and to become those arms of the Savior for others. His ‘better than adopted family’, his brother Bwalya and his determined Bishop Michael Simbeya in the Libala Ward helped him prepare. While at the Ghana MTC, before departing to the Kenya Nairobi mission, miracles occurred and he was able to attend the temple and take part not only in his father’s ordinance work, but also to participate in the sealing of his parents and finally his sealing to them for time and all eternity.
Now, as Elder Chitalu, in the mission office he met Sister Stacie Sturt, mission leader for Kenya Nairobi West Mission. She captured this beautiful photo of Elder Kennedy Chitalu standing in front of the picture of his much younger self, cradled in the arms of his Savior. Now he wears a name tag as a representative of Jesus Christ. It is his turn to wrap his arms around others and help bring them to Christ. He testifies: “I know and stand as a solemn witness that Jesus Christ is our Savior, and I know that His Atonement has healing power for all kinds of afflictions”.

Elder McConkie and Elder Haight were assigned to the twelve-stake conference in Santa Barbara, California. We met to plan the conference in Elder Haight’s office. I was the junior member of the team. Elder McConkie’s only request was that we do what would be most convenient for the people of the twelve stakes. So we planned two four-hour leadership meetings on Saturday, one in Chatsworth and one in Santa Barbara, one hundred miles away. Sunday would find us doing two two-hour meetings on the University of California, Santa Barbara, campus. We would return the one hundred miles to Los Angeles and arrive home about midnight. Elder Haight, ever solicitous of Elder McConkie, protested, but bowed to the senior apostle.

I saw him that week in the General Authority dining room. “John, let’s go preach the gospel,” he said with obvious enthusiasm. He anticipated the chance to once more teach and exhort the Saints.

On the Friday night before the conference, Shirley and I met Bruce and Amelia McConkie and David Haight at the Burbank airport. Elder McConkie was completely exhausted. He had just had his chemotherapy shot. (Incidentally, Sister McConkie says that his doctor, who was not a member of the Church, did not quite know how to take Bruce. She said he would walk in on Friday for his shot, roll up his sleeve, and say, “Seven more days of life, Doc!”)

After we met at the airport that night, Elder McConkie went straight to bed without dinner. Over dinner, Amelia shared with us his cooperative disdain for the illness which was obviously consuming him. I think it was she that bore the brunt of his pending date with the Savior. For him, this is the way he would describe it, “It makes not a particle of difference whether I preach the gospel here or in the world to come. I will preach the gospel.”

Many felt he was never more powerful than he was at that conference, nor was there a finer regional conference than that on Saturday and Sunday in Chatsworth and Santa Barbara. He was back where his father Oscar McConkie had presided in such power, which I remember well because I was one of the young people who was greatly influenced by his father. The stake president in Santa Barbara, Gerald Haws, was one he had installed, and Jerry’s father had been a district president in the same area serving with Oscar McConkie.

Experiencing some difficulty with the sound on Sunday, he grasped the microphone on the podium and pulled it close to his mouth. “I didn’t come all this way not to be heard,” he announced. Everyone heard and everyone understood his message of salvation.

We drove back to Los Angeles and awaited the late arrival of our flight to Salt Lake City. In the airport many recognized him and Elder Haight and spoke to both of them. He could travel to no location in the world without being recognized. He and all of the rest of us were tired as we arrived in Salt Lake City at midnight.

On Tuesday following that exhausting weekend, I saw him at the office. “How are you feeling?” I asked. He jumped instantly into the air, clicked his heels, and exclaimed, “Great!”

You saw and heard him at general conference. You saw a man as close to having one foot on the earth and another in paradise as you are likely to see. Once more he raised his voice to proclaim his testimony of and allegiance to Jesus the Christ. Soon he would join his Savior, but he must endure to the end. This he did with courage and power beyond anything I have witnessed. He never returned to his ministry after that talk.

The only time I remember having my honor questioned was during an examination in high school. I believe the examination was in economics. The teacher had a habit of standing at the back of the room watching the students during examinations. I was writing vigorously when the lead of my pencil broke. I asked my neighbor across the aisle to let me borrow his pocketknife. As he handed me the knife, the teacher came down the aisle and said, “Hand in your paper, and you’ll not be permitted to play in the basketball game tonight.” I was a forward on the team. I explained that I was asking for his knife so I could sharpen my pencil, but no explanation would satisfy him.
I went home after school by horseback rather discouraged that evening and told my father what had happened. He felt sure I was honest. I knew I was.
I was out milking the cows when a telephone call came from the coach saying that I should come over to the gymnasium that evening, that the teacher would see me and he hoped I would have an opportunity to play. I was reluctant to go, but with father’s encouragement, I went to the gym and met the teacher. He asked me if I would confess my dishonesty, to which I replied, “I have not been dishonest. There is nothing to confess.” He did reluctantly permit me to play. I went into the game with very little spirit and we lost. Though I bear no ill will toward my teacher (he was only doing what he thought was right), I did learn from the incident how important it was that I keep my name and my father’s name above reproach. I have tried to do that all my life.

I love how President N. Eldon Tanner’s father taught him during family prayer. President Tanner said this:

“I remember one evening when we were kneeling in family prayer, my father said to the Lord, ‘Eldon did something today he shouldn’t have done; he’s sorry, and if you will forgive him, he won’t do it anymore.’

“That made me determined not to do it anymore—much more than a trouncing would have done.”7

Let me share with you one small thing that has made all the difference in my life.

In my senior year of high school, my dad taught me seminary in our home. Since the topic of study that year was the Book of Mormon, my dad decided that we would read it together, verse by verse, and discuss what we learned. As we read, my dad would ask me questions that got me thinking about what we were reading, and he would explain things I didn’t understand. I still remember reading Jacob 5 and discovering for the first time the Lamanites and the Nephites among the branches that had been hidden in the nethermost parts of the vineyard.21 I remember learning about the Savior and sensing that He really did visit the Nephites and that I really could be forgiven of my sins because of His Atonement.

I trace my foundation in the scriptures to those sessions my dad and I had together. As I mentioned, I felt something as we read. And maybe more important, I noticed that my desires, motivations, and actions changed. I wanted to be better. I began to see where I was being deceived. I repented more often.

After my senior year of high school, I continued to try to read the scriptures daily. That summer and into the fall I wasn’t as consistent as I should have been, but by the end of my freshman year of college, I was reading the scriptures every day.

At about this time, President Ezra Taft Benson asked the members of the Church to read the Book of Mormon and apply what they learned daily.22 So in addition to whatever else I was reading, I read at least something from the Book of Mormon.

On my mission I learned how to really study and feast upon the scriptures. I learned to study with a question in mind. I found similar phrases and terminology in different parts of the scriptures and began to connect them in ways that enhanced my understanding of the doctrine. I slowed down so that I could ponder and pray about what I was reading. I learned to study topically and sequentially. Not only did I feel the Holy Ghost as I read, but I also started to feel joy as I searched the scriptures to find answers to my own problems and those of my investigators. Best of all, my testimony of and my desire to follow Jesus Christ increased.

After my mission I continued to feast upon the scriptures daily. Because this practice invited the Holy Ghost into my life, I was more efficient. I was guided as to how to manage my time. I had inspiration come to me about how to solve problems that were often totally unrelated to what I was studying. I received help in identifying the highest priorities for the day. As a result, I did better in school and, later, at work. It was easier to make good decisions. I prayed more and was more diligent in fulfilling my callings. Feasting upon the scriptures daily didn’t solve all my problems, but life was easier because I was in the scriptures.

“I wish I could ride my bike, now that you took off the training wheels,” I said as he was putting the vacuum cleaner away.
“Come on, I’ll help you practice.”
First he showed me how to stop and get off. Then he gave me some good starts, and I began to get the hang of it.
A week passed. I practiced every day riding my bicycle in the driveway. I had a skinned elbow, a bruised knee, and a scraped ankle, but I finally mastered the bike.
I was proudly riding it when Janie came by to model her beautiful blue dress for me.
“You look great, Janie,” Jack said as he came down the sidewalk. Then he grinned and waved a geometry test paper with a 94 on it!
How can wishes come true? Figure it out—I did!

My family and I had the amazing opportunity to visit Peru. Our tour guide organized a service project to help children in a local elementary school. I decided to provide sweaters for the children because they didn’t have warm clothes for the winter. I started a sweater drive at my elementary school. We collected more than 400 sweaters! I know the children in the school will be warm this winter. I felt a lot of joy because I was able to serve them.
Kale L., age 11, New Mexico, USA

The summer of 1831 was a time of great promise for a young printer by the name of William Phelps. He had just arrived with his family in Kirtland, Ohio. Brother Phelps was born in 1792 in New Jersey. In the spring of 1830, he read an announcement indicating that the Book of Mormon was about to be released from the press. His interest in this book later led him to purchase a copy from Parley Pratt. It was the reading of this book that prompted him to move to Kirtland where he sought audience with the prophet and inquired as to his duty. On June 14, Joseph received a revelation from the Lord, recorded in Section 55 of the Doctrine and Covenants.

The revelation also directed Brother Phelps to be ordained an Elder and to travel to Missouri to assist Oliver Cowdery with printing and writing books for children.
Brother Phelps had many significant opportunities to serve and his name is mentioned in four additional sections of the Doctrine and Covenants. One of the things for which he is best remembered is the fact that he composed or adapted the lyrics of fifteen of the hymns of our church, including the ones we will sing today. He helped print the 1835 copy of the Doctrine and Covenants, and he printed the first hymnal for the Church that same year.
One of the high points for the early saints came in March of 1836 with the dedication of the first temple of this dispensation in Kirtland. From the pen of Brother Phelps came the beloved words sung at the dedication service.

The time of rejoicing, however, was soon followed by a time of great trial. It was only thirty months after the glorious visitations from the Savior and other heavenly beings that Joseph Smith found himself imprisoned in the tiny jail at Liberty, Missouri. There he remained through the Christmas season of 1838, through the winter, and well into 1839. The pain and sorrow he suffered were expressed vehemently in letters to the saints. Many who stood beside him in the beginning of this dispensation and even shared in heavenly manifestations had apostatized and been excommunicated for one reason or another. Some of these dissenters testified against him during hearings in Richmond and facilitated his imprisonment.
Among these traitors was William Phelps.

Not long after this revelation was received, the incarceration in Liberty Jail came to an end. It was finished. Joseph moved with the Saints to Nauvoo, and enjoyed a few years of peace before the fateful day of June 27, 1844. Most of those who had apostatized from the Church in Missouri remained distant from the saints and some contributed to the horror of Carthage. One brother, however, felt the influence of the Holy Spirit, prompting him to repentance, sore repentance. Through prayer and answers in a remarkable dream, he was motivated to take the necessary steps. Hoping humbly, even desperately, for just a little mercy, William W. Phelps wrote to the prophet from Dayton, Ohio. It was the 29th of June 1840:
“Brother Joseph: I am alive, and with the help of God, I mean to still live. I am as the prodigal son, though I never doubt or disbelieve the fulness of the Gospel… I have seen the folly of my way, and I tremble at the gulf I have passed . . . I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me . . . I ask forgiveness in the name of Jesus Christ of all the Saints . . . I will make all the satisfaction on every point that God or Saints can require. Amen. W. W. Phelps (HC 4:141-142).
William Phelps was in a dark place. More than anything, he wanted the darkness to end. Like Peter, he longed for a second chance. He wanted the terrible choice of the past to be finished.

On July 22, less than a month after William Phelps had written his letter of repentance, the prophet Joseph responded with the following:
“Dear Brother Phelps: I must say that it is with no ordinary feelings I endeavor to write a few lines to you in answer of yours... Believing your confession to be real, and your repentance genuine, I shall be happy once again to give you the right hand of fellowship, and rejoice over the returning prodigal. Your letter was read to the Saints last Sunday, and an expression of their feeling was taken, when it was unanimously resolved that W. W. Phelps should be received into full fellowship. ‘Come on, dear brother, since the war is past, for friends at first, are friends again at last.’ Yours as ever, Joseph Smith Jun.” (HC 4:162-164).
William W. Phelps joined the Saints in Nauvoo. He became an ordinance worker in the Nauvoo temple. He traveled west with the Saints in 1849. Shortly thereafter, he served a mission for the Church. In 1872, he passed away in Salt Lake City, an active high priest.