Gospel Story Finder

A few months ago I was having troubles with the commandments and keeping them. I found this scripture one morning as I was reading 1 Nephi 10:18–22. Verse 18 says, “The way is prepared for all men from the foundation of the world, if it so be that they repent and come unto [Christ].” That verse stood out and gave me courage I needed to meet with my bishop. One of my closest friends who was also struggling spoke with her bishop as well. A few weeks ago we were able to go to the temple. I know Christ loves us and that He did atone for our sins. I love Him and I’m grateful for this knowledge.

I was in another country not long ago holding a fireside for young adults. During the question-and-answer portion of the meeting, a young brother raised his hand and asked when the Church would provide more financial assistance for young adults to help them become self-reliant. I thought about this for a moment and then felt impressed to ask him if he had served a mission. He replied that he had. I asked him if he had learned to set goals while on his mission, to plan, to exercise faith, and to work diligently. He was good-natured about it and smiled as he replied that he had in fact learned those life skills. I then said to him, “You are an agent, not an object. You have the ability to act and to do whatever it is that you choose to do. You have been taught everything that you need to be successful in life. Now it is up to you to go forward in faith and to act, rather than to sit back and wait to be acted upon.” I hoped that he felt my love for him and that somehow this exchange helped him to reorient his vision for himself.

What if some of our traditions don’t have a place in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ? Letting go of them may require the emotional support and nurture of another, as it did for me.
When I was born, my parents planted a magnolia tree in the backyard so there would be magnolias at my wedding ceremony, held in the Protestant church of my forefathers. But on the day of my marriage, there were no parents at my side and no magnolias, for as a one-year convert to the Church, I had traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah, to receive my temple endowment and be sealed to David, my fiancé.
When I left Louisiana and neared Utah, a feeling of homelessness swept over me. Before the wedding, I would be staying with David’s step-grandmother, who was lovingly known as Aunt Carol.
Here I was, a stranger to Utah, going to stay in a stranger’s house before being sealed—for eternity—to a family I barely knew. (Good thing I loved and trusted my future husband and the Lord!)
As I stood at the front door of Aunt Carol’s house, I wanted to shrink away. The door opened—I stood there like a scared rabbit—and Aunt Carol, without a word, reached out and took me into her arms. She, who had no children of her own, knew—her nurturing heart knew—that I needed a place to belong. Oh, the comfort and sweetness of that moment! My fear melted, and there came to me a sense of being anchored to a spiritually safe place.
Love is making space in your life for someone else, as Aunt Carol did for me.

Our benefits from worship in the temple have extended beyond blessing our children. On one occasion, my husband faced a very perplexing employment problem, and he decided to take it to the Lord in the temple. On that day, the Lord blessed him with the impression that a particular scripture was the answer to his question.

Upon arriving home, he anxiously opened the scriptures and, to his delight, found help for his problem. This experience opened up a whole new application of the scriptures. The Lord can speak to his children by reminding us of scriptures that contain answers to our challenges. His Spirit can help us understand how passages of scripture apply to us. Regular scripture study fills our minds with divine thoughts with which the Lord can prompt us as occasion warrants. We appreciate this principle we learned in the temple.

One of these is the great intuition enjoyed by women. One of our faithful ward Relief Society presidents recalls a prompting she had:
“While attending my meetings, I had a strong feeling that I should check on an inactive sister in my ward. My first thought was, ‘I’m in charge; I can’t leave.’ But then I thought, ‘What would Christ do?’ Of course He would leave the meeting and go to His lost sheep. So I went. As I arrived at this sister’s home, I told her, ‘I don’t know why I’m here, but are you okay?’ She said she was fine. But I persisted. If the Lord had sent me, I knew I couldn’t just leave.
“She invited me in, and I found out on that Easter Sunday that her husband had left her earlier that week. Her children had been wondering where their daddy was. And she prayed for help for the first time in a long while. We were then able to get her family involved, and our bishop and his counselor came and helped mend the crisis so that the family got back together again.
“This experience taught me the importance of listening to the Spirit and following the promptings when they come. I’ve learned much from my experience of ‘leaving the ninety and nine’ to go and ‘find the one.’”

When I was in my last year of Primary, a wonderful older lady named Marth Christensen was our teacher. She helped us learn the Articles of Faith. To this day I still know the Articles of Faith because of what I learned in Primary. We visited Sister Christensen’s home often. It was always a wonderful experience to be there. She taught us cooking skills, and we made cookies and candy. Sometimes we took the treats we had made to somebody who was homebound. The examples of wonderful teachers taught me to serve.

My family and I had a simple but impressive experience with one of God’s creations. I gave my wife, Barbara, a dozen roses as a valentine. They were a delicate shade of peach in color and had a rich scent. Barbara put them in a vase and placed them on the table in our family room. As the days passed, the family watched the blossoms unfold from buds to full flower.
As I watched this miracle, I became curious about roses. I was amazed to learn from a botanist friend that there are thousands of different varieties of roses. Inside each rose is a giant storehouse of genetic coding that develops a seed or a slip into roots, stems, thorns, leaves, colors, and blooms.
Each rose is a compact chemical-processing factory. Using sunlight, the green leaves take carbon dioxide from the air and replace it with oxygen, which we breathe. When other chemicals within the plant react with sunlight, it produces starch that becomes food. As you know, this process is called photosynthesis, and without it the earth’s atmosphere would soon be devoid of oxygen, and most living things would disappear from the earth.
This experience led me to consider the myriad forms of plant and animal life that thrive in astounding balance upon the earth. My esteem for our little roses took on an element of wonder and reverence. I pondered the power of the Creative Genius who lovingly provided such marvels for His children. I thought then how important it is for every human soul to see and appreciate the glory and grandeur of God in everything about us. Into my mind came the words and message of a beautiful hymn:
When thru the woods and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees,
When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur
And hear the brook and feel the gentle breeze,
Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee,
How great thou art! How great thou art!
(“How Great Thou Art,” Hymns, no. 86)
I felt a deep reverence for both the creation and the Creator.

Fifty-one years ago I heard William J. Critchlow Jr., then president of the South Ogden Stake who would later become an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, speak to the brethren of the general priesthood session of conference and retell a story concerning trust, honor, and duty. May I share the story with you. Its simple lesson applies to us today, as it did then.
“[Young] Rupert stood by the side of the road watching an unusual number of people hurry past. At length he recognized a friend. ‘Where are all of you going in such a hurry?’ he asked.
“The friend paused. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ he said.
“‘I’ve heard nothing,’ Rupert answered.
“‘Well,’ continued [the] friend, ‘the King has lost his royal emerald! Yesterday he attended a wedding of the nobility and wore the emerald on the slender golden chain around his neck. In some way the emerald became loosened from the chain. Everyone is searching, for the King has offered a reward … to the one who finds it. Come, we must hurry.’
“‘But I cannot go without asking Grandmother,’ faltered Rupert.
“‘Then I cannot wait. I want to find the emerald,’ replied his friend.
“Rupert hurried back to the cabin at the edge of the woods to seek his grandmother’s permission. ‘If I could find it we could leave this hut with its dampness and buy a piece of land up on the hillside,’ he pleaded with Grandmother.
“But his grandmother shook her head. ‘What would the sheep do?’ she asked. ‘Already they are restless in the pen, waiting to be taken to the pasture, and please do not forget to take them to water when the sun shines high in the heavens.’
“Sorrowfully, Rupert took the sheep to the pasture, and at noon he led them to the brook in the woods. There he sat on a large stone by the stream. ‘If I could only have had a chance to look for the King’s emerald!’ he thought. Turning his head to gaze down at the sandy bottom of the brook, suddenly he stared into the water. What was it? It could not be! He leaped into the water, and his gripping fingers held something that was green with a slender bit of gold chain [that had been broken]. ‘The King’s emerald!’ he shouted. ‘It must have been flung from the chain when the King [astride his horse galloped across the bridge spanning the stream, and the current carried] it here.’
“With shining eyes Rupert ran to his grandmother’s hut to tell her of his great find. ‘Bless you, my boy,’ she said, ‘but you never would have found it if you had not been doing your duty, herding the sheep.’ And Rupert knew that this was the truth” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1955, 86; paragraphing, capitalization, and punctuation altered).

In April 2009 former Presiding Bishopric counselor Richard C. Edgley told the story of an exemplary quorum that mobilized to assist a fellow member who had lost his job:
“Phil’s Auto of Centerville, Utah, is a testament of what priesthood leadership and a quorum can accomplish. Phil was a member of an elders quorum and worked as a mechanic at a local automobile repair shop. Unfortunately, the repair shop where Phil worked experienced economic trouble and had to let Phil go from his job. He was devastated by this turn of events.
“On hearing about Phil’s job loss, his bishop, Leon Olsen, and his elders quorum presidency prayerfully considered ways they could help Phil get back on his feet. After all, he was a fellow quorum member, a brother, and he needed help. They concluded that Phil had the skills to run his own business. One of the quorum members offered that he had an old barn that perhaps could be used as a repair shop. Other quorum members could help gather needed tools and supplies to equip the new shop. Almost everyone in the quorum could at least help clean the old barn.
“They shared their ideas with Phil; then they shared their plan with the members of their quorum. The barn was cleaned and renovated, the tools gathered, and all was put in order. Phil’s Auto was a success and eventually moved to better and more permanent quarters—all because his quorum brothers offered help in a time of crisis.”8

Seppe walked restlessly up and down the small pier. One by one the lights in the old farmhouse went, and then a lantern bobbed along the path to the boat landing. It was early, this Saturday morning in December, and dark.
Father, Mother, little sister Eila, and Seppo climbed into their boat and cast off. They were on their way to the market square by the harbor in Helsinki to sell their wares.
“What a load we have this morning,” said Mother above the sound of the chugging motor. “Potatoes, bunches of birch leaves, and cranberries that Eila and Seppo picked yesterday!”
“And Mother’s great bundle of weaving,” said Father as he guided the large motorboat over the dark waters and through the clusters of little islands toward Helsinki. “One more rug and one more tablecloth, and there would have been no room for Eila and Seppo!”
“Oh, but we had to come today, “insisted Seppo. “This is the day I buy my new skis.”
When the Gulf of Finland froze each winter, Seppo would ski over the ice to school on the mainland … Every February he entered the ski-day race. However, his skis had been broken, so all summer and through the fall Seppo had worked for neighboring farmers to earn the money to buy new skis in Helsinki. This year he felt sure that he would win the race.
“And this is the day I buy my special candle for Independence Day,” said Eila, who had saved all the money she had earned by gathering birch leaves for Father to sell. December sixth is Independence Day in Finland and candles glow in every window to mark this special day. Eila’s heart was set on having the most beautiful candle she could find in Stockmann’s Department Store.
Father steered the boat into the south harbor, past the piers for the large ships and ferryboats, and into their own spot by the harbor’s edge. When Father hopped out and began to tie up the boat, some men were already putting up the stalls and orange canopies in the marketplace. The dome of the big white cathedral gleamed through the early morning mist.
“Seppo, will you please carry this roll of rugs to my stall?” asked Mother. “You will have time before the stores open to help me set up.”
Seppo, his arms clasping the bully bundle, waited for Eila to climb out of the boat and onto the stone steps at the harbor’s edge. The boat was bobbing up and down, for a brisk wind was making the water choppy. Eila moved slowly, holding her purse in one hand.
“Hurry, Eila, these rugs are heavy!” Seppo said angrily.
Eila turned her head to answer, and almost lost her balance. She grabbed the edge of the boat to steady herself, and her purse flew out of her hand into the water.
“My money!” wailed Eila, as Father snatched an oar from the boat and poked it down through the water to see if he could rescue the purse.
“I’m afraid it’s gone,” he said finally. “I’m sorry,” Gently he helped Eila out of the boat and Seppo followed with the bundle of weaving. Seppo. Eila, and Mother trudged along in silence to the stall, while Father stayed in the boat with the cranberries, birch leaves, and potatoes.
Mother quickly arranged the rag rugs, tablecloths, and mats. She put on her special gloves that left her fingertips bare for handling small coins. Mrs. Salonen, who sold birchbark baskets in the stall next to Mother’s, also wore gloves this chilly morning.
After Seppo had brought his mother and Mrs. Salonen hot possu (doughnuts) from a nearby stall, he cleared his throat and said, “I think I’ll go now and buy my skis. Want to come along, Eila?”
Eila shook her head. “I can’t go now. Mrs. Salonen is paying me one mark to help her,” she said, sighing. “Then I can buy a tiny candle, and wait till next year for a special one. A year isn’t so long,” she added, trying to smile, but Seppo knew she was near tears.
He turned and walled rapidly out of the market square, hardly noticing the people he passed, who were bundled up in their fur hats and heavy coats. Instead, we kept seeing Eila’s horrified face as her carefully saved money sank out of sight. An uncomfortable thought began to nag Seppo: “If I hadn’t tried to hurry Eila out of the boat …
In the store the clerk greeted him. “Aha, you are fortunate. The skis that you have been admiring all fall are still here!”
Seppo touched the skis and looked at them for a long time. Their bright blue enameled surface gleamed in the electric light. He knew that Finland’s best skiers used skis exactly like these when they won their races.
Reaching into his pocket for his wallet, Seppo seemed to hear Eila saying, “A year isn’t so long.”
“Just a moment,” Seppo said as the clerk started to remove the championship skis from the rack. “I think … I think,” he said pointing to a cheaper pair of hickory skis just like the ones he had broken, “I’ll take these other skis instead.”
Anyway, reasoned Seppo as he rushed back to the marketplace, if I’m going to win the race, it’s more important to use the right wax on my skis and to keep practicing than to worry about the kind of skis I have.
After he had carefully stored his new skis in Father’s boat, Seppo went to Mrs. Salonen’s stall. A sad-faced Eila was still stacking baskets.
“Could you spare Eila to go with me for a little while?” he asked the older woman. “We have an important errand to do at Stockmann’s.”
Mrs. Salonen nodded her assent.
At “Stockmann’s, Seppo?” Eila asked as she hurried to catch up with her brother.
“Yes, come, Seppo encouraged, “before someone else buys your special candle.”
And this time, Eila, her eyes shining, needed no urging.

I didn’t notice her at first. She was merely a part of the sea of people milling about the reception hall. Then she stepped forward and, struggling for the right English words, pointed to her heart and said, “When you sing, you have a love.”

I looked into her red, tear-swollen eyes and smiled the warmest “Thank you” I could muster. I couldn’t speak. My heart was in my throat.

Looking around the hall, I could see that the other members of the BYU A Cappella Choir were having similar experiences. We were at Kibbutz Chatzerim in the middle of Israel’s Negev Desert. The love of the gospel of Jesus Christ expressed through song had bridged the gap of culture, language, and religion to touch the hearts of these people. It was our first concert in Israel and the beginning of a tour that, through music, would take the message of the Restoration to thousands of Jewish people.

It was only fitting that we should start in the Negev Desert, for it is in this parched and desolate region that the saga of the house of Israel began. This is the land that the Lord gave Abraham for his inheritance. It is the Wilderness of Zin where Moses and the Children of Israel wandered for 40 years to learn obedience to God. Today it is part of the area where the tribe of Judah is returning to build its homeland. Strangely enough, we were coming home too. Home?

How could anyone think this bleached, death-bone desert was home? The landscape is more reminiscent of a bleak and barren planet in another galaxy. But home it is. We are also of the house of Israel, and the realization of this common heritage made our tour seem like one great big family reunion. There were no strangers, only cousins we hadn’t met yet. It wasn’t long until we were engulfed in an overwhelming sense of love for Israel and her people.

This love penetrated deeper into our hearts as we struggled in the burning sun to scale a steep, desert pathway. Looming above us were the skeletal ruins of the winter palace and fortress of Herod the Great—Masada. This small plateau overlooking the Dead Sea is one of the most sacred and inspiring areas of the Negev. When the Roman armies marched on the Jews, a party of Jewish patriots captured the Roman garrison at Masada and resisted Roman conquest for three years after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. In this place centuries ago, 937 men, women and children chose death rather than captivity. Today it is an inspiration to Jewish nationalism. New recruits in the Israeli Army are brought to the top of Masada to take their oaths of service.

The memory of similar persecutions and dedication to principle in the lives of our pioneer forefathers strengthened the bonds we felt with the Jewish people. Alone, we half bowed, half kneeled, among the crumbling limestone columns of the northern palace and sang the “Hatikvah,” the Israeli national anthem. Like a careless beggar, the wind grabbed at our voices and scattered them over the edge to be lost in the wasteland below.

From our vantage point we envisioned how, for centuries, the Jews wandered, waiting for a time to build their own homeland, and how they still wander unknowingly in search of truth.

Turning northward, the power and magnitude of the mighty Negev Desert is quickly worn down to the calm, lush fields and orchards of the Jordan River Valley. In Israel, where there is water, there is life. No one knows that better than those who live on the kibbutzim (cooperative communities for farming and industry).

Struggling to survive in such a harsh climate, these people have learned to respect the land through hard work and industry. They are very emotional people and their appreciation for life is shown in their great love of music, art, and festivity. The majority of our concerts were on these kibbutzim, and we were received with great warmth and enthusiasm. We sang classical pieces ranging from Bach’s 97-page “Singet Dem Herrn,” to selections from Robert Cundick’s contemporary oratorio, “The Redeemer.” Especially popular were some Negro spirituals and Hebrew folksongs. Some members of the choir had expressed concern that the Jewish people would not like “Christian” songs. However, these fears were swiftly removed as we grew to understand the sincere appreciation the Israelis have for the arts, whether they be of Christian, Jewish, or any other origin.

If any of us thought we were the only “cultured” thing to hit Israel, we had another think coming. In an exchange with the Kibbutz Chamber Orchestra, we heard two pieces by Mozart, played as expertly as any orchestra we have come in contact with. These musicians are unusual in that they play not for money but for the sake of playing.

We also had an exchange with the Kibbutz Choir—40 vibrant singers whose sharp, crisp consonants danced in rhythm with their fervent enthusiasm. Their swaying shoulders and fiery eyes made them just as inspiring to watch as they were to hear. Though mostly farmers and small industry workers, both the members of the choir and the orchestra are exceptional artists.

The exchange was so successful and friendships became so strong that our conductor, Dr. Ralph Woodward, was invited to return next summer to conduct workshops with the music educators and musicians throughout Israel.

As hosts, the Israeli people are marvelous. After every concert we were given a reception so we could meet the people. There were apples, apricots, bananas, cake, milk, peanuts, and pretzels. We sang songs with them and learned many of their dances. It was at this time of friendship and association that the spirit of missionary work would really take hold. One evening I was talking with a man and his wife on a kibbutz when all of a sudden she said, “Now, tell us about the Mormons.”

I was a little taken back.

I’m a returned missionary and I thought, “What ever happened to the old, ‘What do you know about the Mormon Church, and would you like to know more’ bit?” This was like walking into a room full of golden investigators.

At first there were only the man and his wife, but in a few minutes about seven people were listening. I talked about Joseph Smith, the plan of salvation, the Book of Mormon, genealogy, the tribes of Israel and our connection through Joseph. I soon found that explaining the gospel to a Jew is a most challenging and rewarding experience. I had to search the very limits of my testimony to help them understand not only what the gospel is but why I believe it.

I was not alone. Charles Cranney and Marsha Paulson had an experience that was representative of many that occurred on the tour. Following a concert, two Israeli youth walked up to them and said, “You’re so peaceful and happy. You’re Mormons, aren’t you? What is it that makes you this way?” In the discussion that followed they were both given copies of the Book of Mormon. Reflecting on the experience, Marsha told Charles, “You know, that’s exactly what I saw before I joined the Church.” Charles summed up his experiences in Israel by saying, “The people came like children who were hungry.”

Twenty-one-year-old Emma Hale first heard about Joseph Smith when he came to work for Josiah Stowell in the fall of 1825. Josiah had hired the young man and his father to help him find buried treasure on his property.1 Local legends claimed that a band of explorers had mined a silver deposit and hidden the treasure in the area hundreds of years earlier. Knowing Joseph had a gift for using seer stones, Josiah offered him good wages and a share of the findings if he would help in the search.2
Emma’s father, Isaac, supported the venture. When Joseph and his father came to the Stowell farm in Harmony, Pennsylvania—a village some 150 miles (240 km) south of Palmyra—Isaac served as a witness when they signed their contracts. He also allowed the workers to live in his home.3
Emma met Joseph soon after. He was younger than she was, stood over six feet (1.8 m) tall, and looked like someone who was used to hard work. He had blue eyes and a light complexion, and he walked with a faint limp. His grammar was uneven, and he sometimes used too many words to express himself, but he displayed a natural intelligence when he spoke. He and his father were good men who preferred to worship on their own rather than attend the church where Emma and her family worshipped.4
Both Joseph and Emma liked being outdoors. Since childhood, Emma had enjoyed riding horses and canoeing in the river near her home. Joseph was not a skilled horseman, but he excelled in wrestling and ball games. He was at ease around others and quick to smile, often telling jokes or humorous stories. Emma was more reserved, but she loved a good joke and could talk with anyone. She also liked to read and sing.5
In 2015 the Church rebuilt this replica of the Isaac and Elizabeth Hale home in Harmony, Pennsylvania. Joseph Smith met their daughter Emma when he lived on the property while working for Josiah Stowell.
As the weeks passed and Emma got to know Joseph better, her parents grew anxious about their relationship. Joseph was a poor laborer from another state, and they hoped their daughter would lose interest in him and marry into one of the prosperous families in their valley. Emma’s father had also grown wary of the treasure hunt and was suspicious of Joseph’s role in it. It did not seem to matter to Isaac Hale that Joseph had tried to convince Josiah Stowell to call the search off when it became clear nothing would come of it.6
Emma liked Joseph better than any other man she knew, and she did not stop spending time with him. After he succeeded in convincing Josiah to stop looking for silver, Joseph remained in Harmony to work on Josiah’s farm. Sometimes he also worked for Joseph and Polly Knight, another farming family in the area. When he was not working, he visited Emma.7
Joseph and his seer stone soon became the subject of gossip in Harmony. Some of the older folks in town believed in seers, but many of their children and grandchildren did not. Josiah’s nephew, claiming that Joseph had taken advantage of his uncle, brought the young man to court and charged him with being a fraud.
Standing before the local judge, Joseph explained how he had found the stone. Joseph Sr. testified that he had constantly asked God to show them His will for Joseph’s marvelous gift as a seer. Finally, Josiah stood before the court and stated that Joseph had not swindled him.
“Do I understand,” said the judge, “that you believe the prisoner can see by the aid of the stone?”
No, Josiah insisted, “I positively know it to be true.”
Josiah was a well-respected man in the community, and people accepted his word. In the end, the hearing produced no evidence that Joseph had deceived him, so the judge dismissed the charge.8

My mother, Margaret, moved from Switzerland to the United States as a young woman. Not long after that, she had an appointment to receive her patriarchal blessing. But when she went to meet with the patriarch, he wasn’t there. For whatever reason, my mother felt like that was confirmation the Lord didn’t have anything to tell her, and she never rescheduled her appointment.
From time to time over the years, I would suggest to my mother that she reconsider receiving her blessing. She was one of the most faithful women I ever knew. However, she was so humble that she replied that she didn’t merit anything special from the Lord. She didn’t need a blessing, she said, because she was just a simple girl. And she was OK with that.
Finally, when she was 90, we convinced her to schedule an appointment with her patriarch. Ironically, there was a miscommunication with this patriarch as well, and when Mother showed up, the patriarch was out of town. “See?” she said. “I told you the Lord has nothing special to tell me.”
Fortunately, she and the patriarch were able to meet the next week. When the blessing was given, it was filled with gifts, promises, and details about her life that were so personal they could have come only from the Lord’s knowledge of her.
“I guess the Lord did have something to say to me, after all,” she said.

A tender story from Church history illustrates the power of a forgiving heart. William W. Phelps joined the Church during the Kirtland era and became a devoted follower of the Prophet Joseph Smith. He was called to be a member of the stake presidency in Missouri. Later, as a result of some financial improprieties and an unrepentant heart, Brother Phelps left the Church. He became bitter and declared himself an enemy to the Prophet. His defection occurred at the time when the Prophet and many of the leading brethren were arrested following Governor Lilburn W. Boggs’s extermination order.
While the Prophet’s life hung literally in the balance, William W. Phelps served as a witness against him. Compounding his betrayal, William signed a certificate defending the actions of one of the Saints’ worst enemies.
As a result, his actions helped send the Prophet and several other brethren to prison. We can perhaps imagine the bitter disappointment the Prophet endured during the months of his imprisonment as he contemplated the betrayal of those he had loved and trusted.
Two years later, after great anguish and bitter remorse, Brother Phelps sent the Prophet a heartfelt letter:
“Brother Joseph: … I am as the prodigal son. … I have seen the folly of my way, and I tremble at the gulf I have passed.” He begged the forgiveness of the brethren and asked that even with severe chastisement he might return to them.4
The Prophet’s almost immediate reply stands as a worthy example of the power of forgiveness and of his great heart:
“Dear Brother Phelps: …
“You may in some measure realize what my feelings, as well as Elder Rigdon’s and Brother Hyrum’s were, when we read your letter—truly our hearts were melted into tenderness and compassion when we ascertained your resolves. …
“It is true, that we have suffered much in consequence of your behavior—the cup of gall, already full enough for mortals to drink, was indeed filled to overflowing when you turned against us. …
“However, the cup has been drunk, the will of our Father has been done, and we are yet alive, for which we thank the Lord. And having been delivered from the hands of wicked men by the mercy of our God, we say it is your privilege to be delivered from the powers of the adversary, be brought into the liberty of God’s dear children, and again take your stand among the Saints of the Most High, and by diligence, humility, and love unfeigned, commend yourself to our God, and your God, and to the Church of Jesus Christ.
“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. …
“‘Come on, dear brother, since the war is past,
“‘For friends at first, are friends again at last.’
“Yours as ever,
“Joseph Smith, Jun.”5
Brother Phelps returned to the Church with new resolve and commitment. His love for the Prophet and his gratitude for another chance were deep and sincere. It was William W. Phelps who spoke at the Prophet’s funeral service and who later penned the words of one of the great hymns of the Restoration:
Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah!
Jesus anointed that Prophet and Seer.
Blessed to open the last dispensation,
Kings shall extol him, and nations revere. …
Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven;
Earth must atone for the blood of that man.
Wake up the world for the conflict of justice.
Millions shall know “Brother Joseph” again.
Hail to the Prophet, ascended to heaven!
Traitors and tyrants now fight him in vain.
Mingling with Gods, he can plan for his brethren;
Death cannot conquer the hero again.6
Joseph Smith also wrote to William W. Phelps in his letter, “Inasmuch as long-suffering, patience, and mercy have ever characterized the dealings of our Heavenly Father towards the humble and penitent, I feel disposed to copy the example, cherish the same principles, and by so doing be a savior of my fellow men.”7

One such experience occurred late one evening during a busy holiday season. I was hurriedly searching for a scripture to strengthen my sacrament meeting talk the following Sunday. My mind was crowded with concerns about arriving relatives, unfinished holiday preparations, and the chaotic state of my house. I wondered why I had ever said yes to the bishop at such a hectic time. After a long, fruitless search, at last I came upon the eleventh chapter of 1 Nephi, which details Nephi’s remarkable vision of the Savior’s birth and earthly mission. Somehow the full impact of this vision had escaped me in earlier readings, but tonight the meaning of those words struck me forcefully. Nephi wrote joyfully:
“And the angel said unto me: Behold the Lamb of God, yea, even the Son of the Eternal Father! Knowest thou the meaning of the tree which thy father saw?
“And I answered him, saying: Yea, it is the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore, it is the most desirable above all things.
“And he spake unto me, saying: Yea, and the most joyous to the soul.” (1 Ne. 11:21–23; italics added.)
The words seemed like a newly discovered treasure. For the first time, the meaning of Lehi’s white-fruited tree was entirely clear. The fruit which tasted so exquisitely sweet represented the irresistibly sweet love of God. I had found the theme for my talk—and the strength to get through the next demanding days, as well. Pressures could mount and cash registers jingle; no matter. My heart had once again been warmed and strengthened by God’s love.
Yet the most lasting impact of that frantic late-evening search was the awakening of a precious memory: my own personal discovery of God’s love.

Some years ago I prepared to teach a class on a subject I felt would be particularly difficult. The night before the scheduled class, I prayed for guidance and then retired, still troubled in my mind. When I awoke, a certain thought was introduced to my mind that I shared with the class later that morning. After the class, a young man spoke with me privately and said, “The lesson was for me. I now know what I have to do.” Later, I learned that he had come to that class as his first contact with the Church in many years. He then proceeded to get his life in order and eventually served a faithful mission. Presently he is experiencing the happiness associated with keeping eternal family covenants. He possesses the gift of charity because he received the atoning love of Christ.

Normally his mother, Sarah, didn’t worry too much about his childhood sicknesses, which came and went. But once he became very sick, and she began to worry. It started with a fever that kept rising. Then he had a stomachache and headache. Finally rose-colored spots appeared on his body, so she called for the doctor.
The doctor came and examined George Albert. He told Sarah that her son had typhoid fever, a disease that sometimes killed people. He told her to keep her son in bed for three weeks and to have him drink coffee but not eat.
When the doctor left, George Albert told his mother that he didn’t want to drink coffee because it was against the Word of Wisdom. He knew that Heavenly Father had given Joseph Smith the Word of Wisdom, a revelation that teaches us to not drink coffee, tea, or alcohol. It also teaches us to eat and drink only things that are good for our bodies. He didn’t want to break the Word of Wisdom. His mother and father had taught him to always obey Heavenly Father.
Because his father, John Henry, was away serving a mission, George Albert asked his mother to send for Brother Hawks, a faithful and good member of their ward who held the priesthood. When Brother Hawks arrived, George Albert asked him for a priesthood blessing.
Brother Hawks placed his hands on the boy’s head and blessed him that he would get better. George Albert had faith that the blessing would help him recover from the typhoid fever.
When the doctor arrived the next day, he found the boy playing outside with other children. The doctor was surprised. He examined George Albert and found that he was all better. George Albert later said, “I am grateful to the Lord for my recovery. I was sure that He had healed me.”

Our son Justin passed away at age 19 after fighting a lifelong disease. In a sacrament meeting talk he gave not long before he left us, he shared a story that must have resonated with him about a father and his young son who went into a toy store where there was an inflatable punching bag in the shape of a man. The boy punched the inflatable man, who tipped over and immediately bounced back after every punch. The father asked his young son why the man kept bouncing back up. The boy thought for a minute and then said, “I don’t know. I guess it’s because he’s standing up on the inside.” In order to be “all in,” we need to “stand up inside,” “come what may.”15

One Saturday my wife and I realized that we did not have enough money to take public transportation to church the next day, and there was no way to make a cash withdrawal. Our tithing was in a donation envelope ready to be given to the bishop. We began to talk about how we would travel to church. If we used the tithing money to pay for transportation, we felt that the Lord would understand; however, we decided that it was not right.
The other possibility was to not go to church, and again we thought that the Lord would understand since we had never missed before. However, if that happened, we would not be able to take our tithing to the bishop, so that possibility was also ruled out.
Trying to be faithful, we decided to leave earlier than usual and walk to church. We left on that beautiful Sabbath day for the chapel, which was about three miles (4.8 km) from our home. For our four children (the oldest was six), it was like a party, and they enjoyed running and playing along the way.
When we reached a certain point on a wide and dangerous street, I heard the Spirit tell me, “You should cross now.” I told my wife, and she responded that it was dangerous because that part of the street began to curve, blocking our view of oncoming cars. I responded that I felt we should cross there, so we quickly crossed, my wife and I each taking two children. Just as we stepped onto the sidewalk, a car stopped on that side, and the driver asked, “Are you going to church?”
The driver was a brother who did not belong to our ward, but I had met him before because I had visited his ward. We responded affirmatively, and he offered to drive us there. As we got in the car, the brother explained that he never took this route and he was only passing that way because his business partner had lost the keys to the office and he was taking his keys to his partner.
I thought to myself that this hadn’t happened by chance. The Lord knew we needed transportation to go to church. Our tithing was in my pocket, and it provided us the opportunity to teach our children about the blessings that come from paying tithing. We arrived at the chapel earlier than ever but happy and grateful. We participated in all the meetings and did not tell anybody about what had happened.
Summers in São Paulo are very hot, especially at midday, when our Church meetings ended. We were preparing to return when someone came up and asked us, “Do you have someone to take you back?” We responded that we didn’t, and he said to us, “Do you want me to take you?” We accepted his offer, and my wife and I looked at each other with emotional smiles.
More than once the Lord had given us a great blessing for our obedience.

President Hinckley’s grandfather, Ira Nathanial Hinckley, lost his parents and was sent from Michigan to Springfield, Illinois, to live with his grandparents. As a teenager he walked to Nauvoo, Illinois, and met the Prophet Joseph Smith.
He traveled westward with the pioneers. During the U.S. Civil War he volunteered for service in the Union army guarding the transcontinental telegraph line. Later he was sent by Brigham Young to Cove Creek, Utah, where he built the fort that stands today.
On the trek west, Ira Hinckley stayed back for one season to plow the prairies and plant grain that he would not harvest. The harvest belonged to those who came afterward. The forebearers of Brother and Sister Hinckley planted fields of faith for those who followed them.