Gospel Story Finder

The place was solemn and forgotten as only an old graveyard can be. It was a grotesque, weedy pause between railroad tracks and decaying buildings, a shabby plot where crumbling cherubs tilted above sagging gray monuments. Grass grew high there, and the chiseled epitaphs had disappeared under a slow tide of moss. It was a good place to ignore.
That’s why it didn’t make much sense one morning when a squad of bright-faced young men and women showed up at the rusting gates with hoes and shovels and clippers and mowers, and went to work. Heads appeared in the windows of the surrounding buildings, and the questions flew. Who are they? What are they doing here? What’s in it for them? And the answers didn’t make much sense either. The young people sweating among the tombstones weren’t even from the neighborhood; no one had asked them to come, and they weren’t getting anything out of it. For all anyone knew, they might have been so many ghosts come back to spruce up their own exclusive little subdivision.
And when they left, with the weeds out, the grass mowed, and the monuments standing straight, everyone knew that the neighborhood had become a nicer place to live, but no one knew who the mysterious band of “ghosts” were, and it’s not likely they ever will.
And that suits the young men and women of the Richardson Ward in Dallas, Texas, just fine. They’ve discovered that being doers of the word instead of just hearers isn’t merely a scripture—it’s a beautiful, happy principle of life. It means doing the yard work of widows in the area, helping to maintain the chapel, working on community projects, and even cleaning up an abandoned graveyard—just because they need doing.
Whether cleaning up a graveyard, staging a dance festival, or spreading the truth, they have discovered where happiness is at. It’s at home—wherever you are—if you’re living the gospel.

Sister Ballard: Our seven children have been wonderful to raise, but we’ve had worries and concerns, and we’ve had to go through the normal anxieties and problems. This is why we needed family councils—and why we had lots of discussions and prayers. For example, when my husband was called to serve as mission president in Toronto, Canada, some of the children were not happy about moving there.
Elder Ballard: They cried all the way to Toronto. They cried for two months after we were there.
Sister Ballard: Yes, but they were good sports. It was harder for the ones in high school, but we discussed their feelings in many family councils. In time, they realized it was a wonderful opportunity.

One time, Esther and Erica prepared a special family home evening when another family came to share it with them. First, the girls read a story about baptism from the Friend. Next, they acted out the story of Jesus Christ’s baptism with paper puppets they had made. Esther read the story from the scriptures while Erica moved the puppets. Then the girls showed the dresses they wore after their baptisms. They explained why they wore white and how they felt when they were baptized. Esther and Erica like to teach, and they are good examples for their younger sister, Lydia.

The young people from the Lacey First Ward remember the roots of their area at least once a year when they gather enough wild food from the seashores and hillsides around Lacey to have a first class “wild” banquet.
To prepare for this year’s dinner, they dug clams at nearby Potlatch State Park and collected enough butter clams, horse clams, and cockles to make clam chowder and still have fresh-steamed butter clams. While some of the young people were digging clams at low tide, others waded out with small landing nets and caught crabs. Still others put out small crab pots. Each crab was carefully examined to make sure it was a male and was of legal keeping size—more than six inches across its shell. The young people went to a member’s farm and picked several pails of wild blackberries. Another member in the ward donated some salmon, and the dinner was well on its way to becoming a reality. Much of the preparation was done before the day of the banquet when corn and other garden produce appeared out of members’ gardens and blackberry pies made almost unbearably good smells in several kitchens.
All of the young people and many of their parents met at the lovely Tolmie State Park where they enjoyed canoeing and volleyball and general beach-combing before they feasted on the fruits of their foraging.

Imagine in your mind May 1, 1890. A young man and a young lady in a little country town about 250 miles from the Logan Temple decided to be married. Highways—none. Fancy roads—none. Trails through the sagebrush and wagon trails—yes.
It probably would have taken six or seven days at least to make the journey. In May it rains in southern Idaho and in Utah. Imagine riding in a buggy with all of your clothes—taking something along, I guess for the horses, taking some food in little sacks of some kind. Fancy clothes, warm clothes—they had none. Sleeping bags—none. Coleman lanterns or cooking stoves—none. They would have had matches and had to find dry sagebrush to make a fire to cook their food.
Just imagine, just run it through your mind for a moment and think of the gratitude that I have and the blessings they brought into my life by traveling to a place to be married a long ways away. Inconvenience? That wouldn’t be a problem; they would do it. And think of what’s happened in the last few years with President Hinckley—the inspiration and direction he has had in the building of temples all over the world. And think of what people went through a few years ago.
Those blessings have come into my life from my parents and their parents and others who have affected my life—teachers and good people that I have been associated with.
When I was about 11 years old, a man came to our little town to teach at the Church academy. He played the violin a little, and we hadn’t had anyone there for a long time who had played the violin. My mother was impressed and picked up a little violin, I guess at some little rummage sale somewhere, and decided that I should learn to play the violin.
Even though I had never seen anyone play the violin in public, he came to our house and started giving me some little simple lessons on playing the violin. I was coming along fairly well by the time we graduated from the eighth grade in grammar school, and for the graduation exercises held in the high school I was asked to play a violin solo.
I’d carefully practiced the little number “Träumerei,” as I remember the name. My sister who was four years older than I and was then one of the popular girls in high school was my pianist. At the graduation exercises, Connie McMurray was the valedictorian. Girls are always smarter in school than boys. As she was giving the valedictory address, there was a little pedestal with a pitcher of water and a glass on it for the school board. The school board was on the stand, plus a little handful of us who were graduating from the eighth grade.
As Connie McMurray was giving her famous valedictory address, near the end of it we noticed the little doily under the pitcher of water on the pedestal was moving over a little bit towards the edge, and over it fell with the pitcher and glass of water! Connie McMurray fell in a dead faint.
In the scurrying around of cleaning the water off the stage and rearranging the chairs, they announced that we would now have the violin solo from David Haight. I walked over to the little old piano, and my sister came up from the audience. I took that little simple violin out of that wooden case as my sister sat down at the piano and sounded an A. I said, “Go ahead and play.”
She said, “David, you’d better tune it.”
I said, “No, no, I tuned it at our piano at home.” We had an old Kimball piano at home. You know, homes in those days—if you had a piano and books, that’s all you needed for the family. I had carefully tuned the strings by twisting those ebony pegs of that violin, but I didn’t know that all pianos weren’t the same. So as my sister said, “You’d better tune it,” I said, “No, no, it’s all tuned. I tuned it at home.”
So she went ahead and played the introduction, and then I came down on the first note. We were off about two notes.
As she slowed down, I said, “Keep playing,” because I couldn’t imagine anyone would take the time of a famous audience like I was playing to—you know, 100 people in that little high school auditorium. You wouldn’t hold up Carnegie Hall while you tuned your violin! That would be shop work. You would do that in the back room so that when you would start to play, why, you’d be all ready to play.
She slowed down. I said, “Keep playing.” We finished it, and she didn’t speak to me for days following that show.
I want to honor the little country town that I grew up in with my parents, where I was raised and where they were kind and good to me. I am thankful for the knowledge that I acquired from my loving parents.
I am grateful for my wife, Ruby, coming into my life, for our children, and then their children, and then their children, and the people who are part of my life today who influence my life. And I hope that I have some influence for good in their lives.
You remember the account of John the Baptist speaking to John the Beloved and to Andrew on the occasion when the Savior met them. And John the Baptist commented, “Behold the Lamb of God!” (John 1:36). And as the Savior met those young men—John the Baptist, John the Beloved, and Andrew—He said, “What seek ye?”
And in that conversation that’s reported, they said, “Where dwellest thou?” (John 1:38).
And the Savior said, “Come and see” (John 1:39).
They followed the Savior, and according to that brief account that we have, they stayed with Him until the 10th hour. They may have spent the evening together, but it is not known where He was staying or what accommodations He might have had.
John and Andrew were with the Savior for several hours. Just imagine being in His presence or being able to sit and look into His eyes or to hear Him explain who He was and why He had come to earth and to hear that inflection in His voice in describing what He would have told those young men. They would have shaken His hand. They would have felt of that precious, wonderful personality as they listened to Him.
And following that encounter, the account says that Andrew went to find his brother Simon because he had to share it with someone. As we meet in a great conference like this and talk about the gospel and talk about our responsibility and the opportunity we have, just imagine if that had happened to any of us, to have been in that divine, precious personality’s presence and to have listened to Him and to have shaken His hand and to have looked into His eyes and to have heard what He would say.
When Andrew found his brother Simon, he said to him, “We have found the [Messiah]” (John 1:41). He probably said: “We’ve been in His presence. We’ve felt of His personality. We know that what He is telling us is true.” Yes, Andrew had to share it with someone.
That is what we do in sharing what we know and what we understand. And I’m grateful for that knowledge I have that God lives, that He is our Father, and for the understanding that I have of our Heavenly Father and of His Son, Jesus the Christ, our Savior and the Redeemer of all of mankind.
I had a letter only a few days ago from a man in Edinburgh, Scotland. His name is George Stewart. He’ll be surprised at my mentioning this, but he wanted to thank me because when he was 15 years old (some 40 years ago), I was presiding over the mission in Scotland. He wanted to thank me for the missionaries’ coming to their home in Thornliebank, one of the areas of Glasgow. He had joined the Church along with his mother.
He said that as he developed a testimony of the Book of Mormon, as he started reading it and as he kept reading it, he couldn’t put it down because he knew it was true. He kept reading and reading and developing a testimony of the gospel as a young man. He told how he used to come over to the mission home and how we were kind to him and we would spend time with the young people because they were getting into Mutual, which we were starting in the branches.
Then he told of the blessings that had come into his life as a young man, that he had met his sweetheart in that little branch—his wife—and that they were married and that they had four children: a son who had finished a mission in the Washington D.C. Mission, a son who served in the England Leeds Mission, a daughter who was married in the temple, and one who is waiting for the return of a missionary. He voiced gratitude for all of the blessings that had come into his life and the lives of his sons who have been on missions and his daughters.
During the past 40 years, he has served as a bishop four times in four different units, and his wife has served as a Relief Society president on three occasions. He is currently serving as a counselor in the Edinburgh stake presidency. He said, “And I’m going to be retiring very shortly from the company I’m with. I’ve done very well, and we plan to go out on a mission together.”
Then he said these words to me: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.” Let me say that again: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.”
And he says the gospel came into his life, to his wife, to all of his children, and to their children. The grandchildren are active in the Church, and he and his wife now have a great desire to go out into the world when they retire from their profession.
When you think of the majesty and the impact and the spiritual direction of this work out in the world and that this work is meant to reach the people of the world, it is thrilling just to contemplate what lies before us.
There was a Brother and Sister Andrus from Walnut Creek, California, who had served four missions, and then they were called to go to Zimbabwe and assigned to the district in Bulawayo in Zimbabwe. This was their fifth mission.
As they told of the marvelous things that they were able to do in reactivating people, she told a story of how there was a little portable electronic organ in the chapel and how she started showing some of the boys and girls in Bulawayo how to play the organ. There was also a little piano keyboard in another room, and she would have a class where the organ was and another one where this little keyboard was. She would teach these children to play the organ after school. They said they started a temple preparation class in the reactivation process, and before they left they were able to put 28 people on the bus to go from Bulawayo all the way to Johannesburg to the temple, 650 miles away—two days and one night. They said, “We’ve talked about how we are in our late 70s now—these two old people wandering around in Africa having the greatest period of our lives, the greatest excitement we could have.”
Think of Dr. Alan Barker, who had retired from the Salt Lake Clinic, a wonderful cardiologist here in Salt Lake, who, together with his wife, accepted a mission call to the Philippines. While there, they accomplished a marvelous work in helping correct a serious disease problem. He was there long enough to help find a solution to the problem and obtain the needed medical equipment and medication.
These are examples of the marvelous service being given by senior missionary couples in various parts of the world.
I leave you my love, my witness, my testimony that God lives, that this work is true. You can’t find the word retirement in the Bible. I don’t think you can find the word in the Bible Dictionary. Isn’t it interesting to think what can happen in our lives today and what possibilities lie ahead for us if we believe and understand and have a commitment and a dedication to live the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ and to bless the lives of people?
May you be so blessed. May you have a burning feeling in your heart. May you feel as I do on this day that this work is true and that it is meant for us to help bring about the eternal plan of salvation and exaltation. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When Elder Christopher H. Kim was 14 years old and had a chance to share the gospel with friends, he realized he needed to know the truth of the Book of Mormon so he could speak with conviction.
“As I prayed about the Book of Mormon, I felt a soul-comforting feeling,” he recalls. “And suddenly, there was not any question or any doubt about the Book of Mormon.” For the first time in his life, he added, “I really felt the Spirit, knew the truth about the Book of Mormon, and knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.”

And love endures through the hardships of life. The Apostle Paul taught: “Charity suffereth long. … [It] beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth” (1 Corinthians 13:4, 7, 8). I watched a mother’s enduring love for her alcoholic son. She never gave up praying for him and being available for him. In his later years, he finally “came to himself” (Luke 15:17), kept a respectable job, and used his mechanical skills to fix up his mother’s house.

An elderly widow struggled with the pain of arthritis. When she came to live with her daughter, the mother retreated into her own uncomfortable world. She had to be assisted up and down the steps as she went in and out the door.
Hoping to give her mother a positive experience, the daughter suggested that her mother might read to a blind neighbor. Reluctantly, the suffering widow agreed.
Moaning faintly at the effort, the widow allowed her daughter to help her down the steps. Then she hobbled up the street to make the dutiful visit.
An hour passed. Two hours. At last, her family saw her returning, coming happily down the street. Amazingly, she came up the steps and into the house without assistance.
“Well,” she told her daughter, “I sure did her a lot of good.”

President Payne tries to explain just what it is that makes the youth of the Aberdeen stake so special. They go to church and to activities; they attend seminary; they strive to live the gospel. It’s what the youth in every other stake he’s lived in are also doing.

“Then I moved to the Aberdeen stake, and I went on my first temple trip,” he says. “Now it’s something I plan my whole year around. And the reason I do is because I see what happens to our youth. I believe this temple trip is what keeps the Spirit in the lives of these youth. They talk all year long about the temple trip. We ask them, ‘Are you going on the temple trip?’ And they say, ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

“Going to the temple—standing in that holy place—changes them. Not just for that day or for that moment, not for that hour or that week. It changes them forever.”

Julia Nompi Nqubeni was born 20 December 1917, the youngest of five children. Her father, a school teacher, died when she was four. Her mother struggled to make a living as a school teacher and washer woman. In spite of poverty and other major obstacles, Julia pursued an education and began a teaching career. She eventually became one of the first black women in South Africa to become a school principal.

I love to read books that show temples from around the world. When I had a friend ask me about temples, I knew that my explanation wasn’t enough to help her understand. So I brought my books on temples and showed her what the temple is, the purpose of the temple, and how thankful we are to visit the temple. I decided to invite her to church on Sunday, where the missionaries and Sunday School teachers could help her learn more.
Jessica A., 18, Indonesia

After 11 exciting years of working at that job, I was in a meeting one night with those developing an essential part of the nuclear power plant. My secretary came in and said, “There’s a man on the phone who says if I tell you his name you’ll come to the phone.”

I said, “What’s his name?”

She said, “Harold B. Lee.”

I said, “He’s right.” I took the phone call. Elder Lee, who later became President of the Church, asked if he could see me that very night. He was in New York City, and I was in Washington, D.C. I flew up to meet him, and we had an interview that led to my call to be a mission president.

The head of the program I was working for was Admiral Hyman Rickover, a hard-working, demanding individual. I knew him well enough that I felt I needed to tell him as soon as possible that I was being called. As I explained the mission call to him and that it would mean I would have to quit my job, he became rather upset. He said some unrepeatable things, broke the paper tray on his desk, and in the comments that followed clearly established two points:
“Scott, what you are doing in this defense program is so vital that it will take a year to replace you, so you can’t go. Second, if you do go, you are a traitor to your country.”

I said, “I can train my replacement in the two remaining months, and there won’t be any risk to the country.”

There was more conversation, and he finally said, “I never will talk to you again. I don’t want to see you again. You are finished, not only here, but don’t ever plan to work in the nuclear field again.”

I responded, “Admiral, you can bar me from the office, but unless you prevent me, I am going to turn this assignment over to another individual.”

True to his word, the admiral ceased to speak to me. When critical decisions had to be made, he would send a messenger, or I would communicate through a third party. He assigned an individual to take my responsibility, and I trained him.

It wasn’t going to be hard for me to leave; I knew I had been called as a mission president by the Lord. But I knew that my decision would affect others. In the Idaho Falls, Idaho, area were many members of the Church whose jobs depended upon working in the nuclear program. I didn’t want to cause them harm. I didn’t know what to do. My heart kept saying, “Is this going to turn out all right, or will somebody be innocently hurt who depends on our program for livelihood?”

As I prayed and pondered about it, I had a feeling about the hymn “Do What Is Right.” A line from the hymn would come to mind: “Do what is right; let the consequence follow.” Other words from the hymn were reinforcing such as “God will protect you; then do what is right!” (Hymns, no. 237).

My last day in the office I asked for an appointment with the admiral. His secretary gasped. I went with a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hand. He looked at me and said, “Sit down, Scott, what do you have? I have tried every way I can to force you to change. What is it you have?” There followed a very interesting, quiet conversation. There was more listening this time.

He said he would read the Book of Mormon. Then something happened I never thought would occur. He added, “When you come back from the mission, I want you to call me. There will be a job for you.”

My mother fought cancer for nearly 10 years. Treatments and surgeries and finally confinement to her bed were some of her trials.
I remember my father saying as he watched her take her last breath, “A little girl has gone home to rest.”
One of the speakers at her funeral was President Spencer W. Kimball. Among the tributes he paid, I remember one that went something like this: “Some of you may have thought that Mildred suffered so long and so much because of something she had done wrong that required the trials.” He then said, “No, it was that God just wanted her to be polished a little more.” I remember at the time thinking, “If a woman that good needed that much polishing, what is ahead for me?”

“Well, it’s here,” Grandma said, holding up a white envelope. “It is?” Mom asked excitedly. “Where are you going on your mission?”
Ten-year-old Scott and eight-year-old Taylor watched their grandparents intently. Even young Spencer and T. J. were silent.
Grandpa grinned. “Toronto, Canada!”
“Nice place. Cold winters,” Dad remarked, giving Grandma a squeeze. “When do you leave?”
“We report to the MTC on August 29,” Grandma said.
The boys hugged their grandparents before going outside to play.
They didn’t think much about the mission call for the rest of the summer. But before Scott knew it, August 27 arrived—the day his grandparents would be set apart for their mission.
The whole family gathered in a room at the stake center. Everyone felt both excited and reverent. The stake president explained that “setting apart” missionaries blesses them with the strength and the Spirit to do missionary work. Then, one at a time, he blessed Grandma and Grandpa, setting them apart as missionaries.
That night, Scott’s family visited his grandparents and said good-bye. He tried to be casual. “Bye, Grandma. Bye, Grandpa. I’ll miss you.” It felt like an ordinary good-bye. He couldn’t believe his grandparents would really be gone so long.
That week, Scott’s family drove past Grandma and Grandpa’s house several times. It seemed strange to not see their car in the driveway.
On Monday afternoon, Scott and Taylor walked home together from the soccer field. Scott sighed. School was starting in a week. “Taylor, do you remember how we used to stop at Grandma’s house on the way home from school?” Scott asked.
“Yeah.”
“Too bad we can’t do that anymore.”
“No more milk and cookies,” Taylor murmured.
“No more going out to the garage to see Grandpa working on his wood projects or to look at his rock collection,” Scott added.
“We can’t even go there to watch general conference,” Taylor said.
“And we can’t go there on Christmas either. It won’t be the same!” Scott cried.
Taylor frowned. “When we get home, I’m going to make a card for Grandma and Grandpa. I miss them!”
When the boys got home, Taylor told Mom about his plan. “That’s a good idea,” Mom said. “For family home evening tonight, let’s talk about some other things we can do to help us not miss them so much.”
After the opening song and prayer, Dad asked if there was any family business. Taylor raised his hand. “Mom said we could talk about things we can do to help us not miss Grandma and Grandpa as much. I think that next week for family home evening we should make some cookies to send them.”
“Yes, cookies!” cried out five-year-old Spencer.
“Cookies,” repeated two-year-old T. J.
Dad nodded. “What else can we do?”
“Let’s tape-record our music recital and send it to them,” Scott suggested.
“Another great idea!” Dad said. “In December we can record our Christmas concert for them.”
“We could send them messages to warm their hearts, and gloves and socks to warm their hands and feet,” Mom suggested.
“When I grow up, I’m going to go on a mission, too,” Spencer piped up. “Then you can send me lots of cool things!”
“Right on!” Dad said, giving Spencer a high-five.
As the year wore on, Scott’s family sent e-mail messages to Grandma and Grandpa. On Mother’s Day they got to speak to Grandma and Grandpa on the phone. Scott told them about school, soccer, Cub Scouts, and camping with Dad. Grandma and Grandpa talked about the children they had met in Toronto, some from all over the world. They had been invited to many dinners and tried lots of interesting foods. But most importantly, they taught, saw baptisms, and watched people’s lives changing. Scott felt the Spirit whenever he heard about Grandma and Grandpa’s missionary experiences.
Just before it was time for Grandma and Grandpa to come back home, Dad took Scott, Taylor, and Spencer to their house to help weed the yard. Then Dad did some painting and helped move the furniture that had been in storage back into the house. It almost looked like the same place.
“Won’t they be surprised to see how nice it looks?” Taylor said. “I can’t wait to stop here on the way home from school for milk and cookies.”
Scott was starting middle school and would be riding the bus this year. “I guess I’ll have to ride my bike over here after I get off the school bus,” he said. “I’m not giving up the milk and cookies!”
“Me neither,” Spencer said. “I’m going to first grade this year. I get to walk home with Taylor—so I get to have milk and cookies, too.”
Dad grinned. “I’d better warn Grandma to stock up.”

Eighteen-year-old Shaun Larsen isn’t exactly small. He stands six feet, four inches tall and weighs more than 250 pounds. He spent most of last summer lifting weights and running to get in shape for football. It seems incredible that anybody would refer to Shaun as a “mini” anything.

But in the Oregon Portland Mission office one morning, that’s the way Shaun was describing himself.

“I’m a minimissionary,” he said. “But I give it everything I’ve got.”

He smiled as he explained. “My dad’s the mission president,” Shaun said. “He’s been asking the teenagers in the mission to help the missionaries. One of the most successful programs has been assigning the young men who are 16 or older to accompany the full-time missionaries for a short period of time—a few days, a week, or a month. So when I finished high school and came up here to live with my parents, I got invited to serve a minimission too.”

When Shaun wasn’t working with the elders full-time, he spent an evening with them now and then on “splits” (where a missionary companionship divides with members) or shared his testimony when the elders were teaching. “For a whole summer, I was learning that there are ways for each of us to share the gospel. It really opened my eyes,” Shaun said.

Shaun doesn’t live in Portland anymore. He’s attending Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho, and just received a call to serve in the Ecuador Guayaquil Mission. “Working with the missionaries in Portland was good preparation for me,” Shaun said. “I know some of the challenges I’ll probably face, and I’ve seen some of the rewards. How can you not get excited about seeing somebody baptized?”

As Heber J. Grant matured, his faith in God also matured. His wife lay critically ill, and Heber J. Grant called his children into her hospital room and told them that their mother was going to die. President Grant’s daughter, upon learning of this, pleaded with her father not to let her mother die. She pleaded with him to exercise his priesthood in her behalf. She and his other children left the room and President Grant knelt by his wife’s bed. Of that prayer President Grant said:
“I told the Lord, I acknowledged his hand in life and in death, in joy or in sorrow, in prosperity or adversity. I did not complain because my wife was dying, but that I lacked the strength to see my wife die and have her death affect the faith of my children in the ordinances of the gospel. I therefore pleaded with him to give to my daughter Lutie a testimony that it was his will that her mother should die. Within a few short hours, my wife breathed her last. Then I called the children into the bedroom and announced that their mamma was dead. My little boy Heber commenced weeping bitterly, and Lutie put her arms around him and kissed him, and told him not to cry, that the voice of the Lord had said to her, ‘In the death of your mamma the will of the Lord will be.’ Lutie knew nothing of my prayers, and this manifestation to her was a direct answer to my supplication to the Lord, and for it I have never ceased to be grateful.”

From that day to this, millions of faith-filled sons and daughters of Heavenly Father have followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost and entered the sacred waters of baptism. One such man was Solomon Chamberlain.
Solomon was a spiritual man and had spent many hours in prayer, seeking for the remission of his sins and pleading with Heavenly Father to lead him to the truth. Sometime around 1816, Solomon was promised in a vision that he would live to see the day when the Church of Christ would be organized after the apostolic order was established once again on the earth.
Years later Solomon was traveling by boat toward Canada when his vessel stopped in the small town of Palmyra, New York. There he felt a compelling force urging him to disembark. Not knowing why he was there, he began speaking with the townspeople. It wasn’t long before he heard talk of a “gold Bible.” He said those two words sent “a power like electricity [that] went from the top of my head to the end of my toes.”
His inquiries led him to the Smith home, where he spoke with those present about the wonderful news of the restored gospel. After spending two days there and receiving a testimony of the truth, Solomon resumed his journey to Canada, taking with him 64 newly printed, unbound pages of the Book of Mormon. Everywhere he went, he taught the people, “both high and low, rich and poor, … to prepare for the great work of God that was now about to come forth.”2

Those who follow the game of rugby know that the New Zealand All Blacks, a name given because of the color of their uniform, is the most celebrated rugby team ever. To be selected for the All Blacks in New Zealand would be comparable to playing for a football Super Bowl team or a World Cup soccer team.

In 1961, at age 18 and holding the Aaronic Priesthood, Sidney Going was becoming a star in New Zealand rugby. Because of his remarkable abilities, many thought he would be chosen the very next year for the national All Blacks rugby team.

At age 19, in this critical moment of his ascending rugby career, Sid declared that he would forgo rugby to serve a mission. Some called him crazy. Others called him foolish. They protested that his opportunity in rugby might never come again.

For Sid it was not what he was leaving behind—it was the opportunity and responsibility ahead. He had a priesthood duty to offer two years of his life to declare the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and His restored gospel. Nothing—not even a chance to play on the national team, with all the acclaim it would bring—would deter him from that duty.

He was called by a prophet of God to serve in the Western Canadian Mission. Forty-eight years ago this month, 19-year-old Elder Sidney Going left New Zealand to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

A mission instead of a place on the New Zealand All Blacks team? Sid responded, “The blessing of [bringing others] into the gospel far outweighs anything [you] will ever sacrifice.”

You’re probably wondering what happened to Sid Going following his mission. Most important: an eternal marriage to his sweetheart, Colleen; five noble children; and a generation of grandchildren. He has lived his life trusting in his Father in Heaven, keeping the commandments, and serving others.

And rugby? After his mission Sid Going became one of the greatest halfbacks in All Blacks history, playing for 11 seasons and serving for many years as captain of the team.

How good was Sid Going? He was so good that training and game schedules were changed because he would not play on Sunday. Sid was so good the Queen of England acknowledged his contribution to rugby. He was so good a book was written about him titled Super Sid.

What if those honors had not come to Sid after his mission? One of the great miracles of missionary service in this Church is that Sid Going and thousands just like him have not asked, “What will I get from my mission?” but rather, “What can I give?”

I express gratitude for a living prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. Last November he visited many South American countries, including Chile. That same week Chile hosted an important summit meeting for all nations of Latin America. There were presidents and dignitaries from 16 different countries. Streets in the areas where they stayed and met were barricaded. Day and night, sirens wailed and red lights flashed to make way for those men as they traveled back and forth from their meetings. In the midst of all the commotion, President Hinckley arrived. There was no fanfare and no special welcome, recognition, or privilege extended to him. Two vans left the airport and maneuvered through the streets of Santiago, one carrying the Lord’s living prophet. At the hotel there were police and guards to protect the summit visitors, while President Hinckley, with his family and others, entered unnoticed.

The next day, as President Hinckley spoke to over 50,000 Saints and testified of Christ and of His Church, one could feel his conviction. He told all present that he wanted them to remember that they had heard Gordon B. Hinckley say that God lives and Jesus is the Christ. He counseled the Saints to put their lives in order, to teach their children the ways of the Lord, and to form eternal families by being sealed in the temple. At the conclusion of the conference, with tears in their eyes and a testimony in their hearts that here, truly, was a prophet of God on earth, the vast congregation stood and waved white handkerchiefs in farewell. President Hinckley took his handkerchief from his pocket and with love returned their farewell. I know, as those many Saints in Chile and throughout the world know, that President Gordon B. Hinckley is the living prophet of God on earth. I am grateful for him and for his example.

Under the direction of Bishop Stephen Gregory and ward JustServe specialist, Brother Anson Bentley, the members of the Bridlington Ward in the York Stake, have all worked together in setting up a soup kitchen for the homeless at the chapel. The soup kitchen runs every Thursday evening. Bishop Gregory said, “It’s been quite an experience really, we have got the attention of local councillors who come and help us, we have members who have not been active for many years, who have decided that would like to come and help at the soup kitchen and they haven’t been near the building in years. Because of the current COVID-19 restrictions we have had to turn offers of help away and limit it to five volunteers each week, otherwise we would have the chapel full of people wanting to help.”
Brother Bentley said, “We have had pretty much the whole of the ward’s active membership participate in the soup kitchen in one way or another. Thanks to the Bridlington Ward membership, the soup kitchen has been very well supported.”