Gospel Story Finder

Most of her neighbors belong to other churches, but that doesn’t stop Julianne from being their friend. She does all she can to make certain that she doesn’t have conflicts with her neighbors, like some of the early Saints did. One of her best friends is a sixty-year-old widow named Mrs. Troyer. Julianne loves to work in the garden or go for walks with her. They’ve been great friends for two or three years. “We talk about all kinds of stuff on our walks. She’s one of the nicest people I know,” said Julianne.

On the day of her husband’s second departure to England, Vilate Kimball was so weak, trembling so severely with ague, that she could do nothing more than weakly shake hands with her husband when he came in tears to say good-bye. Their little David was less than four weeks old then, and only one child, four-year-old Heber Parley, was well enough to carry water for the ailing family. In the hours after her husband’s leaving, Vilate lost all strength and had to be assisted back to the confinement of her bed.

Mary Ann Young and her children were equally ill when Brigham left on the same mission, and their financial situation was equally precarious. One heartrending description describes her crossing the Mississippi River in the bitter of winter, thinly clad and shivering with cold, clutching her infant daughter as she went, going to the tithing office in Nauvoo to ask for a few potatoes. Then, still suffering with fever, she made her way with the baby back across the forbidding river, never to write a word to her husband about such difficulties.

Brooke P. of California, USA, could feel her resolve wavering—it would be so much easier to blend in with her teammates. The other girls were pressuring her to dress like them for practices and games.
Brooke had already decided that she wanted to be modest, but she didn’t know what that meant for playing her sport. Would it be OK to dress like her teammates just during sporting events?
“I decided to do some research,” Brooke says. “I looked through For the Strength of Youth, the scriptures, Church talks—everything I could get my hands on. Nothing seemed to describe my exact situation and give me specific enough advice. But I knew that Heavenly Father knew me and that He knew what would be modest.”
So Brooke took action again. “I decided to get down on my knees and pray,” she says. As she prayed, she expressed her desire to obey the commandments and then asked whether it would be OK for her to dress like her teammates for their practices and games.
After her prayer, Brooke felt impressed that she should not alter her clothing choices to satisfy her peers. Although her decision was unpopular, Brooke found confidence and peace knowing that her choice was pleasing to Heavenly Father.

One of my friends, a successful merchant, shared with me the greatest secret of his personal success—and it’s not his selling ability. He discovered it one day when the phone rang while he was helping one customer with another waiting to be helped. The clerk said, “I think it’s your wife, Ralph.”
“Hello, Ralph,” said a voice on the other end. “How are you?”
“Fine, dear, but terribly busy. What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
There was a short pause. Then, unhappily Betty said, “I just wanted to hear a grown-up’s voice for a change. Sorry I bothered you when you were so busy.”
Ralph loved Betty, he said he loved her more than anything else in the world, but suddenly he realized that Betty was home with four children under the age of 5, chattering, playing, quarreling, but always needing her. She was busy too—and frustrated.
Wisely Ralph took time right then to apologize, and tell Betty how much he loved her, assure her she could call him anytime, and invite her to go out to dinner that evening with him.
Ralph’s discovery? “Since Betty is the most important person in the world to me, she also deserves first claim on my time. Since I’ve learned to give it to her, she’s happier. I’m happier, and both of us can do our jobs better.”
I’ve found through my own experience that busy men have to learn Ralph’s lesson or suffer the consequences in personal unhappiness and lower efficiency. As an obstetrician, I spent much of my professional time working with women and many of them have told me their feelings about how their husbands use time.
Bart, like Ralph, is a successful man; but his wife confided: “Bart’s gone all day and I understand that. But he might as well be gone at night too. All he does is come home, eat, and either rush off to a Church meeting or go to sleep in front of the TV. He’s really gone day and night. Maybe it’ll be different when he retires … but that’s ten years from now.”
In contrast is Ruth, whose husband, an energetic entrepreneur, had just opened another in a series of big stores. I asked, “But doesn’t this mean he’ll leave you alone much of the time? Does he ever have time for his family?”
“Al travels a lot all right,” Ruth conceded. “But when he’s home, we have such a glorious time together I don’t mind. He phones me often and he takes me or one of the children along when he can.” She looked up with an expression of enchanted anticipation. “And he’ll be back tomorrow!” Al has learned the lesson.

I don’t recall with accuracy when I first became aware of James E. Talmage. I know that some of his books were in my parents’ library and that I had used his Articles of Faith book in preparing the two and one-half minute talks that youngsters used to give in Sunday School. For me, the first memorable introduction to him occurred when I was just nineteen and had received my mission call to Great Britain.

My father had a good friend and associate by the name of Burton Talmage. He was not a son of Elder Talmage but was a close relative. I didn’t know Burt Talmage well, although I had met him several times and I knew how highly he was regarded by my father. When Burt learned of my mission call, he did something that was very kind and really quite extraordinary. Even at that time, I realized that he made the effort not because of me, but because of his affection and respect for my father. Brother Burt Talmage presented to me a beautiful, leather-bound edition of the Articles of Faith with this personal inscription inside, “May you find this book helpful to you on missions.” He then signed his name and the date. He had also imprinted my name on the leather cover just like my missionary scriptures.

To this day, I keep this very special book with the set of scriptures that I used as a young missionary. I have by now used several different sets of scriptures and have also had several paperback copies of the Articles of Faith which I have marked and studied and used, but this wonderful volume holds a special place in my heart. When I received this very remarkable volume, I read it through completely before I began my mission and used it as the basis for missionary study and talks. It quickly became a dear and valued friend and resource.

As I read and studied, finally realizing how little I really knew about some basic things that I fully believed, I found helpful kernels and pleasant surprises in every chapter and on almost every page. Because of his vast vocabulary, I had to look up some of the words that Elder Talmage used, but his meanings were always clear and insightful.

Along that line, some years ago the congregational and evangelical churches of these western states—California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada—were holding a conference of their leaders and ministers in Salt Lake. The leader of the group wrote a letter to President McKay and asked him if he would send one of the General Authorities of the Church to attend the morning session of their conference and tell them the story of Mormonism, to be their guest for lunch, and to remain for an hour and a half in the afternoon and let them ask questions. I got the assignment, and I don’t mind telling you that I was happy to get it. I tell the missionaries you’ll never need to argue with anybody if you learn how to tell our story and you keep the lead. So when I arrived I said, “Do you want it just the way we got our Church and what we believe?”
The man in charge said, “That’s just what we want.”
Some of them wanted to get away on earlier planes to the Northwest, so they set the luncheon back half an hour so that they could give me two and a half hours in that morning meeting. I presented our message to them just about the same way that I have presented it in A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, which many of you have read, showing what we got by revelation rather than by reformation. The churches of this world have not been able to agree because they have not understood the scriptures as they have tried to interpret them; and no two of them can agree, so that has brought into the world many churches. But we have a gospel that has come directly from heaven. When I wrote A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, I predicated it on the thought that we are the only Christian church in the world that didn’t get our religion out of the Bible; we got it by revelation from heaven; then we use the Bible to prove that what we have is what we should have.
After I had presented what we got by revelation (and I’ve already referred to a little of that when I told you about my cousin who was in Norway), I said, “While I was the presiding bishop of the Church, we directed the building program of the Church. We had the plans prepared for the Los Angeles Temple. One day we showed those plans to the First Presidency. We had 84 pages about 4 feet long and 2 1/2 feet wide. We didn’t have the electric plans or the plumbing plans complete, and yet there was that temple built spiritually, and there was not a hole in the ground. You could take those plans and go all over the world and try to fit them to every building in the world, but there’s only one building they would fit, and that’s the Mormon temple in Los Angeles. Of course, you could find buildings that have material in them like the material in that temple, such as lumber, cement, tiling, electrical wiring, and plumbing, but you can’t find any other building in the world that those plans will fit except the Mormon temple in Los Angeles.”
Then I held up the Bible and said, “Here’s the Lord’s blueprint. Isaiah said the Lord had declared the end from the beginning. It’s all here when you know how to understand it. Isaiah said,
The grass withereth, and the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand forever. [Isaiah 40:8]
You could take this, the Lord’s blueprint, and try to fit it to every church in this world, but there’s only one church that it will fit, and that’s The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Of course, you can find other churches that have some of the same things in them like are in this blueprint, but you can’t find any other church that this, the Lord’s blueprint, will fit.”
Then I said, “Now, I’ll proceed to illustrate to you what I mean. In Farrar’s Life of Christ, he said there were two passages in the New Testament for which he could find no excuse. The first was John 10:16, where Jesus said,
Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.
I said, “Do any of you men know why that is in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Do any of you know any church in the world that does know why it’s in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it.” Then I tied it to what I’d told them about the promise of Moses to Joseph who was sold into Egypt of a new land separated from his brethren in the utmost bounds of the everlasting hills, and, describing that land, Moses used the word precious five times in just four little verses (see Deuteronomy 33:13–16).
“Do any of you know where the land of Joseph is?”
No answer.
“Do any of you know where any church in the world that does know where it is?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it,” I said. “It’s the land of America.” And then I led up to where the Lord commanded Ezekiel that the two records should be kept, one of Judah and his followers, the house of Israel, and one of Joseph and his followers, the house of Israel, and in the days of their children—that is in the latter days—when they would say,
Wilt thou not shew us what thou meanest by these?
Say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God; Behold, I will take the stick of Joseph, which is in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of Israel his fellows, and will put them with him, even with the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, and they shall be one in mine hand. [Ezekiel 37:18–19]
“Do any of you,” I said, “know where that stick or record of Joseph is that the Lord commanded should be written?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it; it’s the Book of Mormon. And when you get the Book of Mormon, you read about when Jesus visited his people here in the land of America, when he told them that they were the other sheep of whom he spoke to his disciples in Jerusalem. He said never at any time had the Lord commanded him to tell his disciples who the other sheep were, only that he had other sheep that were not of that fold.” See how beautifully the scriptures fit together when you understand them?
The second passage that Canon Farrar couldn’t understand is 1 Corinthians 15:29, where Paul said:
Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?
I said, “Do any of you know why that is in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Do any of you know of any church in the world that does know why that’s in the Bible?”
No answer.
“Well, we know all about it.” Then I told them that Peter said that Jesus was
put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit:
By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison;
Which sometime were disobedient . . . in the days of Noah, while the ark was a preparing, wherein few, that is, eight souls were saved by water. [1 Peter 3:18–20]
“Now,” I said, “obviously if Jesus preached to them, his gospel was faith, repentance, baptism by immersion for the remission of sins, and the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost. And since you can’t baptize a spirit in water, the Lord had to give them a vicarious baptism of the living for the dead so that holy and sacred ordinance could be performed for them.” I went on to point out that Peter said,
For this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit. [1 Peter 4:6]
That helps you to understand what Jesus meant when he said:
The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God: and they that hear shall live. [John 5:25]
The world has interpreted that to mean those who are dead in sin, but Jesus amplified it by saying:
Marvel not at this; for the hour is coming, in the which all that are in the grave shall hear his voice. [John 5:28]
See how beautifully that fits together?
Then I gave those men some more passages concerning the kingdom that God was to set up in the latter days and the heavens that were to receive the Christ until the restitution of all things spoken by the mouths of all the holy prophets since the world began and then the angel that was to bring the gospel in the latter days to be preached to every nation, kindred, tongue, and people; and in each one I would say, “Do you know why these passages are in the scripture as part of the Lord’s blueprint? Do you know any church in the world that claims that these things have been fulfilled?” Do you see how beautifully the gospel and all these beautiful fulfillments of the words of the holy prophets fit together?
Toward the close of my remarks, the man in charge said, “Now, Mr. Richards, we’ve heard it said that you believe God has a wife. Would you explain that to us?” I think he thought he had me over a barrel or in a corner that I couldn’t get out of.
Rather facetiously I said, “Well, I don’t see how in the world God could have a son without a wife, do you?” They all began to twitter, and I didn’t have any trouble with that question.
Those ministers and church leaders wanted to have an hour and a half to ask questions, and after they had listened to me for two and a half hours, I got that one question from them, and that was the only one. The man in charge said when I left them, “Mr. Richards, this has been one of the most interesting experiences of my entire life.” No wonder Isaiah said it would be a marvelous work and a wonder. That’s what it is to me, and that’s what every missionary ought to make it be to those who are yet in darkness.

John Stephen Akhwari, a marathon runner from Tanzania, competed in the 1968 Summer Olympics. As he was suffering along the way from fatigue, leg cramps, dehydration, and disorientation, “a voice called from within to go on, and so he went on” (The Last African Runner, Olympiad Series, written, directed, and produced by Bud Greenspan, Cappy Productions, 1976, videocassette). Exhausted and staggering, John Stephen Akhwari was the last man to enter the stadium, more than an hour after the winner of the marathon had completed the race. When asked why he would complete a race he could never win, Akhwari replied, “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race; my country sent me to finish the race.”

We are not brought to earth just to be born into mortality. We came with a mission and a purpose—and that is to endure to the end.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004), a former member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, did this for me. In 2004, I visited him in his hospital room not long before he died. He was so kind to everyone who visited or helped him. Health care workers went into his room and came out weeping.
“Elder Maxwell, this is really hard,” I said.
“Oh, Dale,” he chuckled. “We are eternal beings living in a mortal world. We are out of our element, like fish out of water. It is only when we have an eternal perspective that any of this will make any sense.”

President Jack L. Green of the Sterling Park Branch, Virginia, found another problem: his teenagers didn’t have much time for him. A solution? “I make myself available as much as possible to drive them and their friends to a dance or to an activity. That way I’ve got time to be with them and get to know their friends, and to listen to them talking with their friends. Then when I talk to them later, I know who the young people are that they’re talking about.”

I am grateful that with us here today is Sister Jean Char Gong. As a young Honolulu teenager, she met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, recognized gospel truth, and was baptized, the only member of her family to join at the time.

Sister Gong married in the temple, raised and nurtured three children, 11 grandchildren, and now five great-grandchildren. She has served faithfully in Church callings, including arranging flowers for the chapel and typing patriarchal blessings for her husband who served many years as a patriarch. A beloved schoolteacher for 35 years, Sister Gong taught hundreds of elementary school students and even some of their children. Mrs. Gong exemplified that each child, his or her parents, and their classroom teacher can learn as a team.

Jean Char Gong is, of course, my mother. Her lifelong faith, hope, and charity make her a pioneer in our now four-generation gospel family. She has walked with faith in every footstep on a journey of 87 years.

Then in 1902 we broke ground for a new stake and ward building in Thatcher, and I gave two dollars from my nickels and dimes for the building. I remember they dug a great excavation and then there was a long delay before enough more funds could be gathered to construct the building. This was on the way to the post office and the stores where I was often sent to get coal oil for the lamps and for mail and to take the eggs and other things that my abilities made possible. I would always run down into the bottom of this great excavation hole and then up the other side; but when the weeds began to grow big in this enclosed area and I once saw some skunks there, I bypassed the excavation, for I had no interest in skunks as pets or as companions.
When the new stake building—which still stands and is being used for stake and ward purposes—was completed, it had just two large, rectangular areas, one for the meetinghouse on the top floor and one for recreation, the latter being the basement. I remember we had wires strung across the building and cloth curtains between the classes. We could hear something of nearly every class that was going on and even sometimes see, if the lights were just right. I remember some years later when we of the basketball team of the Gila Academy did our practicing here and played our games, and I always took more than my share of the credit for the fact that in this smaller building with some obstructions, we defeated some high school and college teams while we were but a high school team.

I didn’t really mean to bring the cow to Primary that Sunday morning. I didn’t even know who the cow belonged to. On my way to Primary, this silly Holstein cow suddenly lumbered up behind me, mooing at the top of her lungs.
“Go home!” I shouted, trying to shoo her away. “Go home!” Not that I knew where her home could be. Cows usually didn’t just wander around our small town.
I ducked my head and started jogging, hoping that none of my friends would see or hear the noisy cow following right on my heels. But things only got worse. Rounding the corner, I saw Sister Allred, my Primary teacher, sitting on the church steps, crying.
Now I’ve really done it, I thought. Sister Allred is already a nervous wreck because of our class’s behavior. And now I’ve brought a cow to Primary! I thought about last week’s Primary class. It had been so bad that I’d even told my dad about it. Tony and Jimmy had been throwing chalk, tipping over chairs, and snickering whenever Sister Allred asked a question.
“In my day,” Dad had said, fuming, “those boys would have gotten a good whipping with a willow branch for not respecting their elders.”
I could almost feel the sting as he spoke. But I hadn’t told him the complete story. Scott and I had been in on those pranks too. Sure, I wanted to be nice to Sister Allred, but being part of the group was even more important to me.
“Hello, Phillip,” Sister Allred called, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
“Hello,” I murmured, hoping that she would mistake the cow for an extraordinarily large Dalmatian.
With her eyes all teary and puffy, Sister Allred didn’t look as pretty as she usually did. I had always thought that widows were supposed to be ancient. But Sister Allred wasn’t much older than Mom.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, hoping that her tears had blocked out the sight of the cow.
“Oh, nothing, really,” she said, starting to sniffle again. “I’ve just been thinking that maybe I’m not the right person to teach your Primary class.”
“I know how you feel,” I said. “The last teacher who resigned from our class dubbed us the ‘Frightful Four and Sweet Emily Clawson.’” I squirmed when I said “Frightful Four,” because there were only five boys in our class and Brian Tennyson never came. That meant that I was one of the Frightful Four, and right then I wasn’t particularly proud of it.
Suddenly the cow planted her forelegs on the step right beside Sister Allred and mooed loudly in her ear.
I was aghast, but Sister Allred didn’t seem to mind. “Phillip,” she said, “you never told me that you had a cow.”
Just then I saw Sister Parkin, the Primary president, and a redheaded boy heading toward us. Where can I hide the cow? I agonized.
But Sister Parkin looked right past the cow and shouted to Sister Allred above the cow’s mooing. “I want you to meet another member of your class.”
I looked at the redheaded boy, who was staring at the ground.
“This is Brian Tennyson,” said Sister Parkin. Then she fled.
My heart seemed to skip a beat. So this is Brian—the boy Mom and Dad are always telling me I should fellowship. While I was staring at him, a rubber band whopped the side of my head. I turned and saw Tony and Jimmy gleefully loping toward me.
Now I was in real trouble. I was caught between an obnoxious cow, a crying teacher, a shy boy who needed my example, and the two worst terrors of the Primary. To make matters worse, Emily Clawson came bouncing up to Sister Allred and smugly announced, “I read all the scriptures that you talked about last week.”
“Say, Emily,” taunted Tony, “we’ve finally found another girl to read scriptures with you.” He jerked his thumb toward the cow. “Want to ride her into class?”
Sister Allred cleared her throat and said, “I think that we can manage without the cow.”
After opening exercises, the lesson started with no major catastrophes, but only because Scott’s dad stood just outside the door for a while. The loudest sound came from Emily answering questions. I wondered how long it would last. It didn’t last long. Suddenly there was a terrible bellowing outside our window. The cow had found us. She was stamping her hooves and mooing louder than ever.
“I know what’s wrong with that cow!” Sister Allred exclaimed. “It’s past her milking time. The poor thing’s in pain.” She started gathering up her lesson materials.
My eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Why, I’m going to milk her,” Sister Allred replied. “I can just as well teach a lesson outside while I’m milking.”
“You know how to milk a cow?” chortled Tony.
“I used to do it all the time when we had the farm,” she answered.
Tony wrinkled his nose and gave one of his “Oh, sure” looks to Jimmy.
“But I need your help. Would you and Jimmy please find me some pans in the meetinghouse kitchen?” she said.
“Who, me?” said Tony, pointing at himself unbelievingly.
“Yes, you!”
Grumbling, Tony and Jimmy shuffled down the hall.
Brian tugged hopefully on Sister Allred’s sleeve. “May I help too?”
She smiled. “You and Phillip can find me some paper towels and a pan of warm water.”
The bellowing cow was dripping milk in a puddle by the time we gathered around her. Sister Allred stroked the cow gently. “Don’t worry, Bossie. We’ll take care of you.”
Tony and Jimmy brought half a dozen pans from the kitchen, and I brought warm water in the biggest bowl I could find. We thought that we had lost Brian until we saw a cowlick of red hair sticking up behind a tremendous moving pile of paper towels.
“It looks as if we’re well stocked,” laughed Sister Allred. “Now, does anyone know what we do first?”
Brian was standing beyond the circle of the group. Finally he cleared his throat. “I know,” he offered shyly. “You need to wash the cow’s udder with that warm water.”
“That’s right,” said Sister Allred. “Have you milked cows before?”
“No,” replied Brian. “But my grandpa used to have cows, and I watched him.”
Soon everyone was helping to wash and dry the cow’s udder—everyone except Tony. I could see him hanging back, watching us silently.
“What’s next?” asked our teacher.
“Milking!” we exclaimed in unison.
Expertly, Sister Allred began to squeeze the cow’s teats with both her hands. Thick, warm milk squirted into a pan. Soon she pushed back her chair. “Anybody else want to try?”
“I do!” Brian piped up. A freckled grin creased his face as he squeezed a trickle of milk into the pan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tony edging closer. He began patting the cow’s neck. He cleared his throat again. “Before he died, my grandpa told me about milking cows too. He said that it’s important to always be gentle and kind to them.”
Sister Allred smiled. “Tony, I’m certainly glad that you’re here today. You’ve just taught my Primary lesson. It’s about being gentle and kind.” She chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t exactly talk about cows. But it does say that we should be gentle and kind to everyone, and that must include cows.”
“Does that also include Primary teachers?” blurted out Brian.
Sister Allred looked at Brian in surprise. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Of course, it’s easy to be kind to you. You’re the best Primary teacher I’ve ever had!” He lowered his voice. “You know what else? You’re the best cow milker I’ve ever seen.”
Sister Allred leaned down. Her smiling blue eyes looked prettier than I’d ever seen them. “You know what, Brian? I bet you can all learn to be great cow milkers.”
Soon we were all taking turns milking, even Emily. We must have lined up a dozen times.
“Wow,” said Tony, “I wish my grandpa could see me now.”
Suddenly we heard a voice behind us. “Anybody want a job? I never guessed that I was going to find my cow in the hands of such good milkers.”
We all looked up. A stooped old man was gazing at the pans filled with warm, creamy milk.
“I heard that my cow had headed in this direction, but I never thought that she’d get this far.” He paused and rubbed his gray chin. “I’m serious about that job offer. I can’t even get this much milk out of her myself. Oh, you wouldn’t have to milk very often—only when my wife and I want to get away for a day or two. Betsy here is our last cow, and we don’t want to give her up. She’s mostly a pet.”
“I’d love to milk her,” said Brian.
Tony ground the toe of his shoe into the dirt and motioned toward Sister Allred. “I wouldn’t mind doing it if our teacher helps us. She’s real good at milking. I’m sure that you could trust us to be gentle and kind to Betsy.”
Sister Allred smiled and put her arm around Tony. “I think that my five boys, Emily, and I could handle a job like that.”
I patted the black and white cow, and Betsy gave a final, contented moo.

Having sufficient humility in our lives to help establish the Church is particularly valuable. An example in Church history is revealing. In June of 1837, the Prophet Joseph was inspired while in the Kirtland Temple to call Apostle Heber C. Kimball to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to “England … and open the door of salvation to that nation.”17 Apostle Orson Hyde and a few others were assigned to accompany him. Elder Kimball’s response was remarkable. “The idea of being appointed to such an important mission was almost more than I could bear. … [I] was nearly ready to sink under the burden which was placed upon me.”18 Nevertheless, he undertook the mission with absolute faith, commitment, and humility.

Sometimes humility is accepting callings when we do not feel adequate. Sometimes humility is serving faithfully when we feel capable of a more high-profile assignment. Humble leaders have verbally and by example established that it is not where we serve but how we faithfully serve.19 Sometimes humility is overcoming hurt feelings when we feel that leaders or others have mistreated us.

On July 23, 1837, the Prophet Joseph met with Elder Thomas B. Marsh, President of the Quorum of the Twelve. Elder Marsh was apparently frustrated that the Prophet had called two members of his quorum to go to England without consulting him. As Joseph met with Elder Marsh, any hurt feelings were put aside, and the Prophet received a remarkable revelation. It is now the 112th section of the Doctrine and Covenants.20 It gives incredible direction from heaven with respect to humility and missionary work. Verse 10 reads, “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers.”21

This revelation occurred the exact same day that Elders Kimball, Hyde, and John Goodson, full of humility, were declaring the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ in the Vauxhall Chapel in Preston, England.22 This was the first time missionaries had proclaimed the restored gospel outside of North America in this dispensation. Their missionary effort resulted in almost immediate convert baptisms and led to numerous faithful members.23

Although to some it may seem like the Church leaders are taking away our agency, they are really giving us more freedom if we choose to do as they say. One day, my friend was talking to me about her complicated “love life.” She had to deal with a lot of unnecessary stress because she had chosen not to wait until age 16 before dating. She felt very restrained in many ways that she wouldn’t have if she had waited. This friend told me, “You guys are so blessed! At church, when they tell you to wait until you’re 16, they mean it!” The more I thought about this, the more I realized she was right. Sometimes we don’t see the reason for things, but people who have been through it know a lot of things we don’t.Name withheld

My wife and I had the great joy of rearing our five children near the magnificent city of Paris. During those years we wanted to offer them rich opportunities to discover the marvelous things of this world. Each summer, our family took long trips to visit the most significant monuments, historic sites, and natural wonders of Europe. Finally, after spending 22 years in the Paris area, we were getting ready to move. I still remember the day when my children came to me and said, “Dad, it’s absolutely shameful! We’ve lived here all our lives, and we have never been to the Eiffel Tower!”
There are so many wonders in this world. However, sometimes when we have them constantly before our eyes, we take them for granted. We look, but we don’t really see; we hear, but we don’t really listen.
During His earthly ministry, Jesus said to His disciples:
“Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see:
“For I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them; and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them.”
I have often wondered what it would have been like to live at the time of our Savior. Can you imagine sitting at His feet? feeling His embrace? witnessing as He ministered to others? And yet so many who met Him failed to recognize—to “see”—that the very Son of God was living among them.
We too are privileged to live in an exceptional time. The prophets of old saw the work of the Restoration as “a marvelous work … , yea, a marvelous work and a wonder.” In no previous dispensation have so many missionaries been called, so many nations been opened for the gospel message, and so many temples been built throughout the world.
For us, as Latter-day Saints, wonders also occur in our individual lives. They include our own personal conversion, the answers we receive to our prayers, and the tender blessings God showers upon us daily.
To marvel at the wonders of the gospel is a sign of faith. It is to recognize the hand of the Lord in our lives and in everything around us. Our amazement also produces spiritual strength. It gives us the energy to remain anchored in our faith and to engage ourselves in the work of salvation.
But let us beware. Our ability to marvel is fragile. Over the long term, such things as casual commandment keeping, apathy, or even weariness may set in and make us insensitive to even the most remarkable signs and miracles of the gospel.
The Book of Mormon describes a period, very similar to our own, that preceded the coming of the Messiah to the Americas. Suddenly the signs of His birth appeared in the heavens. The people were so stricken with astonishment that they humbled themselves, and nearly all were converted. However, only a short four years later, “the people began to forget those signs and wonders which they had heard, and began to be less and less astonished at a sign or a wonder from heaven, … and began to disbelieve all which they had heard and seen.”
My brothers and sisters, is the gospel still wonderful to you? Can you yet see, hear, feel, and marvel? Or have your spiritual sensors gone into standby mode? Whatever your personal situation, I invite you to do three things.
First, never tire of discovering or rediscovering the truths of the gospel. The writer Marcel Proust said, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Do you remember the first time you read a verse of scripture and felt as if the Lord was speaking to you personally? Can you recall the first time you felt the sweet influence of the Holy Ghost come over you, perhaps before you even realized it was the Holy Ghost? Weren’t these sacred, special moments?
We should hunger and thirst every day after spiritual knowledge. This personal practice is founded on study, meditation, and prayer. Sometimes we might be tempted to think, “I don’t need to study the scriptures today; I’ve read them all before” or “I don’t need to go to church today; there’s nothing new there.”
But the gospel is a fountain of knowledge that never runs dry. There is always something new to learn and feel each Sunday, in every meeting, and in every verse of scripture. In faith we hold to the promise that if we “seek, … [we] shall find.”
Second, anchor your faith in the plain and simple truths of the gospel. Our amazement should be rooted in the core principles of our faith, in the purity of our covenants and ordinances, and in our most simple acts of worship.
A sister missionary told the story of three men she met during a district conference in Africa. They came from an isolated village far away in the bush where the Church had not yet been organized but where there were 15 faithful members and almost 20 investigators. For over two weeks these men had walked on foot, traveling more than 300 miles (480 km) over paths rendered muddy by the rainy season, so they could attend the conference and bring the tithes from the members of their group. They planned to stay for an entire week so they could enjoy the privilege of partaking of the sacrament the following Sunday and then hoped to set out on the return trip carrying boxes filled with copies of the Book of Mormon on their heads to give to the people of their village.
The missionary testified how touched she was by the sense of wonder these brethren displayed and by their wholehearted sacrifices to obtain things that for her had always been readily available.
She wondered: “If I got up one Sunday morning in Arizona and found that my car wasn’t working, would I walk to my church only a few blocks away from home? Or would I just stay home because it was too far or because it was raining?” These are good questions for all of us to consider.
Finally, I invite you to seek and cherish the companionship of the Holy Ghost. Most wonders of the gospel cannot be perceived by our natural senses. They are the things that the “eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, … the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”
When we have the Spirit with us, our spiritual senses are sharpened and our memory is kindled so we cannot forget the miracles and signs we have witnessed. That may be why, knowing Jesus was about to leave them, His Nephite disciples prayed fervently “for that which they most desired; and they desired that the Holy Ghost should be given unto them.”
Although they had seen the Savior with their own eyes and had touched His wounds with their own hands, they knew that their testimonies might dwindle without being constantly renewed by the power of the Spirit of God. My brothers and sisters, never do anything to risk the loss of this precious and marvelous gift—the companionship of the Holy Ghost. Seek it through fervent prayer and righteous living.
I testify that the work in which we are engaged is “a marvelous work and a wonder.” As we follow Jesus Christ, God bears witness to us “with signs and wonders, and with divers miracles, and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to his own will.” On this special day, I bear witness that the wonders and marvels of the gospel are anchored in the greatest of all of God’s gifts—the Savior’s Atonement. This is the perfect gift of love that the Father and the Son, united in purpose, have offered to each one of us. With you, “I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me. … Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!”
That we may always have eyes that see, ears that hear, and hearts that perceive the wonders of this marvelous gospel is my prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

For the fourth time, Jenna tried to make her second and third fingers move quickly back and forth from B to B-flat. But her trill still didn’t sound smooth and even. Jenna rested her palms on the piano keys. She looked at the clock and sighed. Twenty-five more minutes to go.
From the kitchen, Mom called out, “Keep it up, Jenna! Your trill is definitely improving.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. It wasn’t that she didn’t like music. In fact, she loved it. But now Mrs. Maitland was giving her harder pieces by composers like Bach and Scarlatti. Jenna’s fingers couldn’t get through the runs without stumbling over each other.
“This sonata is going to sound awful in the recital!” Jenna grumbled.
Jenna stared down at her fingers. She obviously didn’t have what it took to be a good pianist—not as good as Mia, the star of Mrs. Maitland’s piano recitals. Jenna’s fingers just weren’t coordinated enough. What was the point in keeping it up if she was always going to be second best? Maybe she would ask Mom and Dad to let her quit piano.
Jenna looked around for something else to play. There was her blue Children’s Songbook. She opened it to page 228, her favorite Primary song. “Whenever I touch a velvet rose or walk by our lilac tree.” It always made Jenna feel like spring. In the illustration under the song title, the little girl’s raincoat was the same color as the daffodil, and her red umbrella matched her galoshes.
Jenna smiled and put her hands back on the keyboard. She loved the part where the notes go up for “I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world” and then come back down for “Heav’nly Father created for me.” The notes weren’t exactly a run, Jenna decided. They were more like a walk for her fingers. And she loved the word expressively at the top. It was exactly the way she liked to play. As she played the notes with their gentle, rocking rhythm, her frustration started melting away.
Jenna was starting on the second verse when Mom came in. “Sister Hardy just called,” Mom said. “She has to miss Primary on Sunday, and she can’t find anyone to substitute for her as pianist. Do you think you could do it, Jenna?”
The thought of playing in front of the whole Primary made Jenna’s stomach fluttery. But she loved the Primary songs. She would have her blue songbook, and the music wasn’t too fast or too hard.
Suddenly, Jenna felt glad that she had kept up her piano lessons. Her fingers didn’t need to be the fastest. And she didn’t really need to be the star of the recital. She could play the songs she loved for Heavenly Father. And that made it all worth it.

Two young brothers stood atop a small cliff that overlooked the pristine waters of a blue lake. This was a popular diving spot, and the brothers had often talked about making the jump—something they had seen others do.

Although they both wanted to make the jump, neither one wanted to be first. The height of the cliff wasn’t that great, but to the two young boys, it seemed the distance increased whenever they started to lean forward—and their courage was fading fast.

Finally, one brother put one foot at the edge of the cliff and moved decisively forward. At that moment his brother whispered, “Maybe we should wait until next summer.”

The first brother’s momentum, however, was already pulling him forward. “Brother,” he responded, “I’m committed!”

He splashed into the water and surfaced quickly with a victorious shout. The second brother followed instantly. Afterward, they both laughed about the first boy’s final words before plunging into the water: “Brother, I’m committed.”

When I returned from my mission, I met a beautiful young woman with long black hair down to her waist. She had beautiful, big honey eyes and a contagious smile. She captivated me from the first moment I saw her.
My wife had set the goal to get married in the temple, although back then the nearest temple required a trip of over 4,000 miles (6,400 km).
Our civil marriage ceremony was both happy and sad, for we were married with an expiration date. The officer pronounced the words “And now I declare you husband and wife,” but immediately after, he said, “until death do you part.”
So with sacrifice we set out to purchase a one-way ticket to the Mesa Arizona Temple.
In the temple, as we were kneeling down at the altar, an authorized servant pronounced the words I longed for, which declared us husband and wife for time and for all eternity.
A friend took us to Sunday School. During the meeting he stood up and introduced us to the class. As the meeting came to a close, a brother approached me and shook my hand, leaving a 20-dollar bill in it. Soon after, another brother reached out to me as well, and to my surprise, he also left a bill in my hand. I quickly looked for my wife, who was across the room, and shouted, “Blanquy, shake hands with everyone!”
Soon we had gathered enough money to return to Guatemala.

God expresses his love for us by providing the guidance we need to progress and reach our potential. Perhaps a simple story will illustrate this point. Recently, a young man purchased a used computer but could not get it to work properly. Soon he became discouraged. His temper grew short and he threatened the inanimate object with painful destruction unless its performance improved. A wise father intervened and took his son to a local vendor, where they obtained an instruction manual. After all, who would know more about a complex computer than the person or company that created it? Who would know most about its capacity and potential? Who would better know the safeguards required to avoid damaging or ruining this fine instrument? Soon the boy enjoyed the full potential of his computer by working within the guidelines given in the instruction book provided by its creator.

In a Sunday School class once, we discussed Moses’ reported failure to acknowledge the hand of the Lord in providing water for the children of Israel. Our teacher, a former stake president, tried to explain to the class that we sometimes put our leaders in a “difficult” position when we give them undue praise for their performance. Many class members were puzzled: how could that be a problem? But I knew. So I shared with them a recent humbling experience.
I had been asked to speak at our stake Laurel standards night. As I began thinking and praying about this assignment, I felt inspiration come to me several times through the day, and in the still of the night, I began putting it all together. When I thought the talk was complete—all I needed for the time allotted me—I suddenly seemed to recall a great flood of information from talks and articles on the subject. Speaking quietly to the Lord, I said, “Heavenly Father, I believe you are giving me too much material, I have only thirty minutes to talk.”
Then came the clear instruction to my mind, “Write it all down, then read it aloud and time yourself.”
“That’s a good idea,” I thought. I did it, and to my great surprise, the talk came to thirty minutes. I had such a good feeling that I could have leaped around the room—I was prepared!
But the day before the Laurel standards night, I felt that I should prepare myself spiritually to give the message, and that evening, I began to fast. The next afternoon, I went to my room and began going over the talk. To my surprise, I just couldn’t put it together mentally. “What should I do?” I said in panic to the Lord. “I’m afraid I’ll be reading most of this, and if I do, everyone’s attention will be on me instead of the message you want me to give them.”
Then, very strongly, the thought came into my mind, “Leave it home.”
I resisted this. “I just can’t do that. You know what a terrible memory I have.”
Again came the thought, “Leave it home.”
Frightened, I pleaded, “Remember when I was a Primary president and stood up to give a talk and no words came? That was a terrible experience. Don’t let me go through that again.”
But again, I felt impressed by the Spirit to “leave it home,” so I relented saying, “If I do this, I will have to rely completely on thy help.” And again came the calm assurance of the Spirit that I should leave my talk at home.
That evening as I went out the door, I carried only a handkerchief. And as I glanced up at my bedroom window, I felt literally faint. Once in the chapel, waiting for the meeting to begin, I again tried putting the talk together. I just didn’t have it. I began to panic and then to pray, and immediately felt the comforting assurance that the Lord was there.
When the time came, I walked to the podium with complete assurance and gave all thirty minutes of that talk. I could hardly believe it. This was a marvelous spiritual experience.
When the meeting was over, several people came up to me and paid me glowing compliments. I literally couldn’t force myself to say thank you, and after I stammered through an awkward acknowledgement a few times, I looked around for an exit. I wanted to go home. I could not take credit for what had happened.
Looking back on the experience, the thought has come to me that perhaps the kindest thing any of us can say to someone whose words have impressed us is, “Thanks for that inspired message” or “I felt the Spirit of the Lord in your address tonight”—otherwise we lead them into temptation.