Gospel Story Finder

The silo holds almost four tons of wheat. The grain was put there more than 30 years ago by two loving people who hoped to provide food for their children’s families in case they faced scarcity or famine someday.
The wheat is probably no longer usable for food, but what those two people left behind may be much more valuable than food.
John and Ruth were farm people. They knew years when the crops didn’t grow well or didn’t sell for much money. They had lived through the Depression of the 1930s. They never spent money they did not have or waste anything that might be put to good use sometime. In their old barn sit buckets of rusty nails and bolts that John meant to straighten out, clean up, and reuse one day.
John and Ruth were my parents-in-law. I learned to admire them for what they had become in life and what they were willing to sacrifice to ensure a decent life for others—especially their children. Inside that silo full of grain, taped to the inner door, John and Ruth left a note specifying what they wanted done with the wheat.
“It is here to be preserved for a time of need,” John wrote. “We do not expect to live to see the day when all of this will be used for human food, but say to our family that you may take from it as needed for your own use. We want you to respect our wish that none of it is to be sold for monetary gain but may be traded for other food items if needed. … We are dedicating this wheat to help sustain the lives of those who may need it.”
They accumulated that grain from their crops over 10 years, the last bags being added in 1987. The company that bagged the wheat told them it would last “for a lifetime.” But no one anticipated that the galvanized-steel granary could rust out near the bottom. Rodents and deer, getting at a few of the bags through small holes at the base of the silo, have nibbled at the wheat. A nutritional expert tells us the grain is probably not good for human food anymore but may be used to feed animals.

I skipped up the sidewalk to my home, overflowing with excitement. My friend had invited me to spend the weekend at a cabin.
I came bursting through the front door and announced my plans to my mother.
“Don’t you have baptisms for the dead tomorrow?” she said.
I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, but I can do it another time.”
She looked at me with concern. “You went in for your recommend interview and everything. You said you would go.”
My thoughts of a weekend at a cabin began to slowly fade away. The cabin sounded like so much fun. “Well, I already told my friends I would go with them.”
“You also told your Young Women leader that you would do baptisms. You made that promise first,” my mother reminded me.
“I don’t care! I’m not going!” I snapped back.
She looked on me with disappointment and then walked away.
“Great!” I said to myself, feeling even more guilty. Finally I went into the living room by myself, knelt down, and asked Heavenly Father to help me make the right decision.
When I finished, I just knelt there for a moment. I paid attention to my thoughts. They were directed now toward being in the temple and getting baptized for people who had been waiting for so long. I stood and walked into the kitchen. As I walked past the fridge, I saw a quote from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008):
“If we are a temple-going people, we will be a better people, we will be better fathers and husbands, we will be better wives and mothers. I know your lives are busy. I know that you have much to do. But I make you a promise that if you will go to the house of the Lord, you will be blessed, life will be better for you” (“Excerpts from Recent Addresses of President Gordon B. Hinckley,” Ensign, July 1997, 73).
I stood there transfixed as I read the quote over and over again. My prayers had been answered. I went back into my living room and knelt a second time, only this time I thanked my Heavenly Father for answering my prayer and for teaching me a lesson about sacrifice.
The next day when I went to the temple, I remember feeling so good. I knew I had made the right decision, thanks to Heavenly Father. I know if we truly want to do what is right, sacrifice is a blessing rather than a setback.

I was just a little girl when my ward gathered in the chapel to break a fast with prayer. The collective faith and pleading were in behalf of a young woman with cancer, and the fast provoked an outpouring of prolonged love and support shown to the woman and her family by a chapel full of praying Saints. The young woman passed away—but not before she had been wrapped in a warm blanket of love and service by disciples of Jesus Christ.
Looking back on that experience, I realize that I learned something of the power of fasting and prayer that had nothing to do with God healing the young woman of cancer.
In the case of the young woman in my ward, fasting produced an army of inspired Saints to comfort and serve her. I have summer-evening memories of my cheery, compassionate mom walking down the street to visit with the family often. We took nutritious meals and shared books and movies. I know that my mother was guided in how to help, as were many others. To be healed was not God’s will for the person in this case, but for her to be sustained with love was.

Several years ago, a dear friend married in the Salt Lake Temple. She was a convert to the Church from India, and her entire family came for her wedding. They were not members of the Church, so they waited patiently outside for the wedding to end and the bride to exit the temple. They were dressed in native Indian attire and looked beautiful. When they walked onto the temple grounds, all eyes were upon them. The thing I noticed most was how elegantly they moved and carried themselves and how modest each was. They were not apologetic for their appearance even though it made them stand out in the crowd. They simply knew who they were and were not ashamed. I observed how beautiful they were. The women seemed almost queenly in their attitude and demeanor. In their actions, movements, and conversation, they were dignified and lovely. I thought how much I would like every young woman and woman in the Church to have that same attitude—an attitude of understanding something deeper on the inside that was reflected on the outside.

To you who are bishops and stake presidents, how I wish you could have been part of the meeting I attended with a handful of regional representatives. We heard Elder L. Tom Perry as he compared those who are prospective elders and those who are not active—the future great-grandfathers—to a thermometer. We were reminded that there are many of those individuals who are more than just warm. They would come back if someone would just encourage and show the way.

I would like to tell you of a stake conference I was assigned to attend. It was a reorganization; the stake president and his counselors would be released, and a new presidency would be called. The stake president was young and had served wonderfully for almost 10 years. He was a spiritual giant, but he was also an administrative giant. In my personal interview with him, he told me how he had delegated much of the responsibility for the stake functions to his counselors and to the high council and had thus freed himself to interview those who needed encouragement. Individuals and couples were invited to come to his office. There he got to know them, counseled with them, and invited them to do better, to put their lives in order, and to receive the blessings available to those who follow the Lord. He helped them by putting them in the care of a capable leader, a teacher who helped them to understand the beauties of the doctrine. Then he told me that in these interviews he would often ask if they would like a blessing. “I have placed my hands on the heads of many members of the stake,” he said.
The next day in the general session of the stake conference, I doubt I have ever seen so many tears—not because they felt the president should not be released, but for the deep love of a young stake president who had blessed their lives. I felt prompted to ask, “How many of you have had the hands of the president on your heads?” I was amazed at the number of people who raised their hands. I thought to myself at the time, “How many of these people will bless the name of this great man, not only now but throughout the eternities?” Yes, these will be the great-grandfathers who will, because of this loving leader, leave a legacy of generations of thousands who will call him blessed.

When we see the effect one person can have on the lives of so many, it perhaps is no wonder that the Lord reminded us, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).

I pray we all might consider what we can do individually to assist those who will be the future great-grandparents, whether a little child, a teenager, or an adult, so that each will leave a righteous legacy of those who know and love the Lord. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The Lord said to his own, “O ye of little faith.” Aren’t we all? Once when far away from home, after three days of quite intense suffering, I finally admitted to my companion, Brother Harold B. Lee, that I was in distress. He gave me a sleeping pill he had, then knelt by my bed and blessed me. Though I had gone through three nights in pain and almost without sleep (it was then 3:00 A.M.), I was fast asleep moments after the blessing. I am now ashamed to confess that the next morning when I awakened, my first thought was of the potency of the pill. Then, as hours passed and I knew the effect of the pill must have passed, the distress did not return, and I fell on my knees in remorse to ask forgiveness of the Lord for having given credit to the medicine rather than to him. Months passed and still there was no return of pain or distress. I am ashamed, but I probably represent numerous people who have done likewise. O we of little faith! “Brother A. was not healed.” “Sister B. got well, but it was a long process.” “Brother C. would have gotten well anyway.”

Brother Stoneman from up in the north area had been a member of the United Church of Canada. He’d been employed by the United Church of Canada. He was their printer. He lost his job. He found another, better one. He and his wife would go to the investigator who has been a member of the United Church of Canada and bear their testimony. He said, “I lost my job. I lost many of my friends, but I found a wealth of new friends, and I found the truth. You will not regret it.”

6 In May, Sidney Rigdon, Newel K. Whitney, and the Prophet Joseph started back to Kirtland, Ohio. Near New Albany, Indiana, the horses pulling their wagon became frightened and bolted.
7 Joseph jumped out of the wagon unhurt, but Bishop Whitney caught his foot in a wheel and broke his leg and foot in several places.
8 Sidney Rigdon went on to Kirtland, but the Prophet stayed with Bishop Whitney for four weeks while he recuperated.
9 One day during that time, Joseph Smith ate something poisonous. When Bishop Whitney gave him a blessing of health, the Prophet was instantly healed. Soon they, too, continued on to Kirtland.

After graduating from BYU, my father-in-law invited me to join him in his furniture business. My mother-in-law was not excited about me joining the company, because she felt the business could not support two families. My in-laws were not members of the Church. My mother-in-law brought me my first paycheck. As she handed me the check, she said: "Spence, I don't want one penny of this to go to the Mormon Church."

I was shocked. No prudent man wants to offend his mother-in-law, yet I faced a moment of decision. I simply glanced at the check, showed it to my mother-in-law, and asked: "Dorothy, who does the check belong to?" She sputtered, "To you." I softly responded, "Then Joyce and I will determine how to best use the money." We paid our tithing.

A few days later she approached me again and said, "Spence, Jim (my father-in-law) comes down and works in the store on Sundays. I want you to be there and work with him." The business was closed on Sundays.

Another moment of decision. I don't know why they seemed to involve my mother-in-law. I responded, "Dorothy, Monday through Saturday I will come to work early and stay late, but on Sundays I will not work unless it is an emergency." In over twenty years in the business, I only had to work two or three Sundays. The family business that had been stagnant for many years prior to our arrival immediately improved and prospered greatly for many years. Dorothy's concern that the business could not support two families changed to: "We're making too much money, I don't want to pay this much income tax." And my father-in-law increased the donations he paid to his church and quit working on Sundays.

Many years ago, as a bishop, I worried about any members of the ward who were inactive. Such was my thought one day as I drove down the street where Ben and Emily lived. The aches and pains of advancing years had caused them to withdraw from activity to the shelter of their home. Isolated, detached, shut out from the mainstream of daily life and association, Ben and Emily had not been in our sacrament meeting for many years.

Ben, who had many years before served as a bishop in another ward, loved to sit in his front room reading the New Testament. I was en route from my uptown sales office to our plant. For some reason, I had driven down First West, a street I never had traveled before to reach the destination of our plant. Then I felt the unmistakable prompting to park my car and visit Ben and Emily, even though I was on my way to a meeting. I did not heed the impression at first but drove on for two more blocks; however, when the impression came again, I returned to their home. I approached the door to their home and knocked. Emily opened the door and, upon seeing me—her bishop—she exclaimed, “All day long I have waited for my phone to ring. It has been silent. I hoped that the postman would deliver a letter. He brought only bills. Bishop, how did you know today is my birthday?”

I answered, “Our Heavenly Father knows, Emily, for He loves you. I don’t know why I was directed here today, but He knows. Let’s kneel in prayer and ask Him.” Ben came into the room, and the three of us knelt in prayer. The reason for my visit was made clear as I felt impressed to invite both Ben and Emily to join us in our Church meetings, asking each of them to respond to a particular assignment. Each accepted and began regular attendance once again at Church, remaining active for the rest of their lives. That day of my visit with Ben and Emily, hearts were touched and souls saved.

About three years ago our college was scheduled for an inspection by our professional accreditation group. Accreditation is a critical step for a college, since it provides a certification that the graduates of academic programs meet certain standards of knowledge and practice in fields of study.

As part of our accreditation, documentation is prepared covering all aspects of study. Exams, homework, lecture outlines, and the like are assembled for scrutiny. Students and faculty are interviewed, and facilities are inspected. Then, just prior to the accreditation team’s visit, the team leader called and indicated that his team would be arriving at BYU on Sunday and wanted to spend that day inspecting laboratories and classrooms and in interviewing the department chairs and senior faculty. Since I was dean, I responded that Sunday was the Sabbath and that we would all be involved in worship on that day. Further, I told him that our classrooms and laboratories were used by students for worship services, so it was not possible for their team to visit on that day.

He continued to press the issue, letting me know that the Sabbath day visit would be a requirement if we were to be accredited. Finally, an idea occurred to me. I responded that we would accommodate their team visit if they could come in the middle of the day. I was sure at that time there would be a sacrament meeting in progress in the study area of the Clyde Building and that there would be ongoing classes in the auditorium, classrooms, and laboratories.

When the time for the visit arrived, our department chairs all presented themselves in their Sunday best. The accreditation team arrived in casual attire and were startled to see that all of the young men in the building had on white shirts and ties and that all of the young women wore dresses. All of the students were better dressed than they were! Our department chairs introduced themselves, and we split up to visit different areas of the college. I took the team leader to the doorway that enters the study area. He stopped suddenly and peered through the doorway to see a young man giving a talk in sacrament meeting. He wouldn’t go in, but he listened intently for a while. Then he turned to me and observed that he had rather expected that these students for their worship would be sitting around tables chatting and drinking Coke.

He then asked to go to one of our large classrooms. I escorted him to the auditorium, and we entered the room from the rear. There we observed a young lady who was standing by the side of a table adorned with a tablecloth and a flower. She was giving a Relief Society lesson, and I explained the role of the Relief Society in our Church. The next stop was similar, but this time we observed the operation of an elders quorum meeting. As we were leaving, I took the opportunity to also explain about the Sunday School. The other visitors from the accreditation team each had a similar experience.

Two days later the team met with the academic vice president for a brief oral report on the state of our college. His opening statement surprised us, for he pointed out that it was clear our students and education were firmly grounded in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Then the team members one by one were most laudatory in their reviews of both the academic programs and the students.

The arrival of the Hamilton New Zealand Temple in 1958 stirred a realisation amongst the Saints in Australia that this may be their only chance to make sacred covenants with the Lord. When my father announced that we as a family needed to go to the temple, my mother asked how that was even possible—they had no money and, in his spare time, he was still building the house they were living in. I was two years old then and my brother was recently born.
With unwavering faith, my father set about planning the trip by boat. He did not know how, and had no detailed plans, but he felt an assurance and a hope that the Lord would provide. My father cashed in a life insurance policy, and though we still didn’t have enough money to return, we sailed.
After my family entered the holy temple and were sealed to each other for time and all eternity, my father, once again, set about exercising his faith. He managed to get a job to earn money to live and to return to Australia. Some may say he was delusional, but years later my father and mother declared that this act of faith brought power and direction to their lives.

When I arrived in the mission field, my first area was Juana Saltitopa in the Los Alcarrizos Stake in the Dominican Republic. With little knowledge of the Spanish language, my trainer and I worked with enthusiasm and good intentions to find, teach, and baptize.
During my first week in the area, I met Carlos and Arleny. Carlos had been attending church for a long time, but he usually went alone or with one or two of his three young children. Aleny wasn’t interested in the Church. Carlos had a brother who served as a bishop in a ward in New York in the United States who motivated and encouraged him to keep attending his meetings, hoping that one day Aleny would also accept the message of the Restoration of the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
As missionaries, my companion and I struggled to help Arleny develop a strong enough testimony of the gospel to desire to be baptized. We taught her all the lessons and often read from the Book of Mormon with her. What helped the most was the support of an active family in the Church who lived nearby. They always accompanied us on our visits with Carlos and Arleny and bore strong testimonies of Jesus Christ and how the gospel is a blessing for families.
One day, we arrived at the couple’s home, accompanied by the family who had befriended them. During the lesson, Arleny realized she could not continue to deny the truthfulness of the message of Jesus Christ and that she wanted to be baptized immediately. In two weeks, Carlos and Arleny got married and prepared for their baptisms. Arleny called Carlos’s brother, who lived in the United States, and gave him the good news of her decision to be baptized. The brother bought a ticket and flew from New York to the Dominican Republic to baptize the couple on December 17, 2023. The next day, they were confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, surrounded by their many Church friends.
Throughout my mission, I always kept in touch with Carlos and Arleny. They were given callings and served with great faith and dedication to the Lord. Members continued to visit them and helped them prepare to be sealed as an eternal family. Fourteen months after their baptism they told me they were going to be sealed in the temple on March 16, 2024, along with their three children.
I was able to accompany them as they received their endowments and support them during the sealing ceremony. It was a joy to see almost all the endowed members of the ward who had supported Carlos and Arleny throughout their gospel journey attend the temple with them. It was an unforgettable day. I could strongly feel the Holy Spirit during the ceremony.
What a blessing it is to have the hope that our families can be eternal through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I realized the importance of families in God’s plan and how important and necessary members are in missionary work.

While they were living in Florida an incident with a persistent bug taught him a lesson about keeping small sins out of our lives. He wrote: “One evening as my neighbor and I stood on the front steps, he noticed a little bug crossing my sidewalk. ‘You better spray your lawn,’ he warned. ‘There goes a mole cricket.’ I had sprayed the lawn with insecticide not too many weeks previously, and I hardly felt that I had the time or money to do it again so soon.

“In the light of the next morning, I examined my lawn closely. It was lush and beautifully green. I looked down into the grass to see if I could see any of the little bugs. I could see none. I remember thinking, Well, maybe that little mole cricket was just passing through my yard on the way to my neighbor’s yard.

“The story, however, has a sad ending. I came out the front door one morning, about 10 days after the conversation with my neighbor. Shockingly, as if it had happened overnight, brown spots covered my lawn. I ran to the garden store, bought the insecticide, and sprayed immediately, but it was too late. The lawn was ruined, and to return it to its former state required a new crop of sod, long hours of work, and large expense.

“My neighbor’s warning was central to my lawn’s welfare. He saw things I could not see. He knew something I did not know. He knew that mole crickets live underground and are active only at night, making my daytime examinations ineffective. He knew that mole crickets did not eat the leaves of the grass but rather found nourishment in the roots. He knew that these little inch-long creatures could eat a lot of roots before I would ever see the effect above the ground. I paid a dear price for my smug independence.

“We live in a wonderful day. The blessings of our generation are lush and beautifully green. With faith in the Savior and obedience to the commandments, our lives can be full of satisfaction and joy.

“Our challenges in choosing to serve the Lord are more subtle than those of former days. There are spiritual mole crickets that burrow under our protective walls and invade our delicate roots. Many of these insects of wickedness appear small, at times almost invisible. Yet if we do not combat them, they will do damage and attempt to destroy that which is most precious to us. …

“With the influences of evil that surround us, can we even imagine going out in the morning without kneeling and humbly asking together for the Lord’s protection? Or closing the day without kneeling together and acknowledging our accountability before Him and our thankfulness for His blessings? (“Debugging Your Life,” New Era, Aug. 2000, 4).

This principle was reinforced in my heart some years ago when our little family stayed for seven months in the North African country of Tunisia, where my husband, Keith, did research for his doctoral degree. As students on a tight budget, we had no phone and no television. Our home was a tiny fifth-floor apartment in El Menzah, a suburb of the capital city of Tunis, and our daily routine was simple: Keith studied at the national library while I stayed home with our baby boy, David.
As far as our Church involvement went, we were the Church in Tunis. Each Sunday, Keith administered the sacrament and we read the scriptures. We sang our favorite hymns and listened to conference tapes. Then we finished with a lesson from Keith’s priesthood manual.
Although we met some wonderful people and made some good friends, there were still times when I felt alone and even fearful. One of those times was when I returned home from grocery shopping to find that we had no electricity. A thin blue envelope had been shoved under the door, and inside the envelope was a letter written in French and Arabic. When Keith got home he translated the letter. To our dismay, we discovered that the previous tenants had failed to pay their electricity bill and that we were now responsible for it. We wouldn’t have lights until the bill was paid.
We used candles over the weekend, and on Monday morning we rode the bus to the electric company. After we paid the bill, we were assured that within two days the lights would be turned on.
But would two days be soon enough? Suddenly I realized that Keith’s night class was on Tuesday. He had to attend to keep his scholarship, which meant that little David and I would be alone in the apartment. Solitude was difficult even under normal conditions. What if David and I ended up being all alone in the darkness with only a few candles? Even thinking about it frightened me.
Monday passed, and we still had no electricity. On Tuesday afternoon, Keith returned from studying to find that the people from the electric company still had not come. We discussed our options, and finally Keith said, “I feel we should pray.”
With humble hearts we asked for help. After we finished, Keith hugged me and said, “Everything’s going to be all right. The lights will be turned on by tonight.”
I still felt skeptical, but I depended on his faith. By 4:45 that afternoon, however, doubts filled my mind. After a silent prayer, I again felt a peaceful assurance. Then at 4:55 the people from the electric company arrived to turn on the lights.
Experiences like this increased my faith and helped me know that I was not alone. During the months of our stay in Tunisia, I depended on the power of prayer often. I am grateful to Heavenly Father for His watchful care and love, and I am also grateful for the faith-building experience our family had in Tunisia—an experience that is still a source of strength to us today.

Many young men and young women have started avoiding the inappropriate things found on television, in movies, in music, and on the Internet. Monica Peterson, from Mesa, Arizona, and her family have tried to specifically avoid unclean television shows.
“For family home evening, we chose to work on Be clean. We wrote down television shows that weren’t appropriate to watch. A show that makes me feel uncomfortable I know shouldn’t be watched. Now, when that show comes on, I have a feeling to change it. It was hard at first, but Heavenly Father helped not only me but my family also.”

I served the first 11 months of my mission in Utah instead of where I had been assigned. This reassignment came because of the COVID-19 pandemic. I spoke my native language, ate food I was comfortable with, and visited familiar faces and places. It was amazing!
When travel restrictions lifted, I spent the remaining seven months of my mission in the beautiful Dominican Republic (my original assignment). I walked hours along the bright and lively streets, spoke Spanish, ate a ton of plantains and mangos, and taught the gospel of Jesus Christ to some of the most humble, fun, and faithful people I’ve ever met. This was also absolutely amazing!

Peggy awoke on Christmas morning. She was excited to receive a fun new toy and eat a Christmas feast. But as she looked around, she knew this year would be different. Even though her father worked hard, money had been scarce for her family.
There were no signs of an upcoming Christmas feast. The vegetable trays were empty, and there was no food in the refrigerator.
Peggy and her brother, Malcolm, walked to the door of their parents’ bedroom and saw them kneeling next to their bed. They quietly listened as Mother and Father prayed that Heavenly Father would help the family have food.
“Come on,” Peggy said to Malcolm. “Let’s go outside.”
Peggy and Malcolm went out and collected some of the wild ferns that grew near the garden. Maybe there wouldn’t be any toys this year, but they could still make their home feel like Christmas.
They felt better after they decorated the house with green ferns, but there was still no sign of food.
“The Lord will provide,” Mother said. “Now let’s set the table.”
Father placed plates on the table while Mother set out forks and spoons.
The children looked at each other with confusion in their eyes. The table was ready, but there was still no food. Breakfast soon passed and lunchtime neared. Peggy could feel a few hunger pangs. She wondered how her family would get food.
The clock ticked to 12:00, then 12:30, then 12:45. Still nothing. Then Peggy heard a knock on the door.
She rushed to open the door and was shocked to see the Kirk family standing there. They were holding ham, bread, chicken, salads, and sweets. Peggy couldn’t believe her eyes.
“We were just sitting down to eat our Christmas meal when we thought of you,” Brother Kirk said. “We hope you can use this food.”
Father shook Brother Kirk’s hand, and Mother began to set the food on the kitchen table. Peggy was still shocked. She looked with wide eyes at Mother and Father, but they looked like they expected this to happen.
Peggy knew the feeling she had in the morning was right. This Christmas was different. This was the Christmas that she learned that Heavenly Father hears and answers prayers. And that was the best gift she could have received.

I preached a sermon down in Quitman, Georgia, on the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. At the end of the meeting I stood at the door, and a man came up and introduced himself as a minister of the gospel. Since I had quoted what the major churches had to say about that principle, and not one of them believed in the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit, I said to this minister: “Did I misquote you tonight?”

“No, Mr. Richards, but it is just like you say, we don’t believe all the things our churches teach.”

I said, “You don’t believe them either.”

Then I said, “Why don’t you go back and teach your people the truth. They will take it from you, but they are not ready to take it from the Mormon elders yet.”

He said, “I will see you again,” and that was all I could get out of him that night.

The next time I went there, about four months later, he was standing out in front of the church. We shook hands. I said, “I would certainly be interested to know what you thought of my last sermon here.”

He said, “Mr. Richards, I have been thinking about it ever since. I believe every word you said, only I would like to have heard the rest of it.”

Here was a man occupying a pulpit in his own church who believed every word I said, and yet he couldn’t teach it to his people.

When I joined the Church, I didn’t fully understand the deep significance of the law of tithing. However, I knew and trusted you, Elder Dan Hawkley, and I made a promise to you to pay tithing. I could tell you were anxious that I should keep that promise.
In 1964 there was only one mission in Japan, the Northern Far East Mission. A few months after you taught me, you were transferred to a place far away from my small branch. As you left by express train, these were your parting words: “Dear Brother Hotta, pay your tithing and keep the Sabbath day holy.”
I could not forget the challenge I had been given. However, to be honest, I must admit that I was anxious to buy a beautiful and glittering Japanese Bible like the one you had. I wanted it to help me remember what I had been taught, as well as to remember the elder who had helped to teach me. But it was too expensive for me to buy one.
I reasoned that if I didn’t pay my tithing, I could obtain the Bible. Satan spoke in a whisper: “Buy it. It’s your money. Don’t worry.”
But, dear elder, I couldn’t forget your challenge. I knew it had come through the power of the holy priesthood and the Holy Spirit. I didn’t buy that Bible. I paid my tithing instead. And because I overcame that challenge, I came to really understand the meaning of tithing as a covenant between the Lord and myself.
A few months later, the postman visited us. He left a gift parcel for me. It was the size of a cake box. I opened the package and removed the Japanese Bible, beautiful and glittering, that you had sent me as a wonderful gift. I cried for joy at your deep love. Then I saw your note written on an inside page of the book:
“Dear Brother Hotta, hope you had a Merry Christmas. The work is really going well here in Gunma. Study hard. You can become an elder real soon now. Do me a favor and try to get to the temple in Hawaii. Isn’t the gospel wonderful? Love, Elder Dan Hawkley.”
Ever since that time, I have always paid my tithing. I have also been to the temple with my companion. And part of the reason I have been able to do so is because of the challenges and promises you made to me as a representative of the Lord.