Gospel Story Finder

A. Background
In regard to our relationship with God, which is the second fundamental principle that we will consider here today, I refer to one false doctrine, the doctrine of predestination, that should be sufficient for our purposes. This doctrine was expanded upon by the fifth-century Christian theologian Augustine of Hippo and has governed mainstream Christianity for many centuries. According to predestination, the destiny of any soul is predetermined by God,before any act, good or evil, has been committed by any man or woman.8

I will only say here that there is a terrible logic to a belief in a God who prejudges us, even when His judgment is always perfect. There is also the depressing arithmetic of a teaching that holds that nothing we do, or ever will do in the future, will influence God’s grace or deflect His justice: we are thereby left with our final fate fixed, because of God’s prejudgment of us. Any thoughtful believer will readily discern the self-defeating potential of this incorrect doctrine of predestination, as well as the hopelessness it could produce in individuals. It is therefore not surprising that much of mankind over the ages have approached God with great fear and trepidation.

In this regard I refer to the well-known example of Martin Luther, the great reformer. When he was a young man, before he had embarked on the ministry as a monk and some years before his work as a reformer, he had two experiences that greatly affected him. The first of these events occurred in 1503, when a dagger pierced his leg, rupturing an artery, which could have caused him an untimely death. The second event occurred two years later, in 1505. He was caught in a heavy thunderstorm that was so violent that he felt sure he was not going to survive. It was this latter event, in fact, which caused Luther to promise that he would become a monk if his life were spared. However, the most telling part in both of these life-threatening events was that Luther, when in fear of his life, did not once call upon the Lord for help. Instead, and from the Latter-day Saint point of view, quite surprisingly, he called upon two venerated saints for help. In the first instance, when his leg was injured, he implored Mary, the mortal mother of the Savior, to help him. In the second event, during the terrifying thunderstorm, he turned his calls for help to Saint Anne, who is believed to have been the mother of this same Mary. In later years Luther regretted his behavior for not calling upon the Lord during these situations.9

One possible reason for a good man like Martin Luther not to have turned to His Heavenly Father is found in what he said at one time: “If I could believe that God was not angry at me, I would stand on my head for joy.”10 We should also remember that Martin Luther was not unique in these views; in fact, they were typical in a society in which man feared God and stood in terror of Christ as our judge.11

Years ago, our family attended a fair. We enjoyed the rides until it got dark. On our way to the car to go home, I put my hand in my pocket and realized that the keys to the car, the house, and my office were gone!

The fairgrounds were full of people, but we found a quiet spot (as quiet as you can find during a busy fair) and stood together to pray that the keys would be found. We then walked through the fair and looked for the missing keys.

As we moved along, we saw a policeman. We thought that maybe someone had found our keys and delivered them to him. We approached the policeman and asked, “We’ve lost our keys. Do you happen to have them?”

He asked if we were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A bit confused by that question, I answered, “Yes.”

The policeman then asked me to describe the keys. I did so, and he told me that he had them.

“Why did you ask if we were members of the Church?” I asked as he handed me the keys.

“Because you have a vial of oil on your keychain,” he said. “My father has one just like it. He is a member of your church.”

Experiences like this have blessed our family to trust Heavenly Father and to know that the Savior is with us and will help us.

I recall the story of a teacher helping a young student on with his galoshes. They seemed smaller than his shoes. She got down on both knees and pushed, pulled, and stretched one boot until she finally got it on. Then she went through the same struggle and finally got the other one on. As she finally finished pulling it on, he said, “These are not my galoshes.” The teacher pulled and struggled and finally got them off. Then he said, “They are my sister’s, but my mother made me wear them.”

One summer my entire family caught a nasty flu virus. Both of my parents and all three of my siblings were confined to their beds, too achy and feverish to even move. I alone escaped the illness. So I took on all the cooking, cleaning, and caring for my miserable family members.
Until, a few days later it got me too.
Somehow word got out that no one in our family was well enough to cook or shop for groceries. Our house was suddenly inundated with food from many of the Relief Society sisters in our ward.
Sister Thompson was particularly zealous in her service. She brought breakfast on Monday, lunch on Tuesday, and dinner on both Wednesday and Thursday. Thursday evening, just after Sister Thompson had left her chicken noodle soup and dinner rolls in the kitchen, I heard another knock at the door. There stood Sister Williams, with a pot of chili and a basket of cornbread.
She asked me if my family had eaten yet as she curiously eyed the food on the table behind me. I told her no, we hadn’t eaten yet, but Sister Thompson had just brought us dinner.
“She has been bringing you food all week, hasn’t she?” Sister Williams asked.
“Yes, she has,” I replied. “We’ve definitely had plenty of food.”
Sister Williams frowned and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, next time you see Sister Thompson, you tell her to take a break and let the rest of us share the blessings too!”
Her conviction brought a smile to my face. I was humbled by the compassionate efforts that had been made to help our family, and since then I have been able to truly appreciate the dual meaning behind that phrase, “share the blessings.”

Lyle says he is not the kind of person who accepts things on faith very easily. “It took me a while to realize that the Spirit of the Lord is a substantial, real thing, not just a belief.”

When Lyle’s younger brother Skyler was being ordained a deacon, Lyle was gathered with his father, uncles, and cousins in a circle to help with the ordination. “I thought, What could be better than to spend eternity with these people? I would do anything for anybody in this circle. The Spirit was very strong. That’s when I started thinking, It’s real, it’s substantial, it’s God’s power, and it’s been here all along. The thing I see happening in the family, the spirit that can be there, is the most important thing to me. I’d drop robots right now if the choice was between them and my family. I’m playing with little toys that pale in comparison to that.”

Sister Oaks: Women’s educational paths and experiences are often very different from men’s. I grew up in a time when women seemed to have only two options to support themselves—teaching and nursing. My “problem” was that I never considered either one of them. Supporting myself financially was something I did not consider possible or necessary. I loved to learn, and I knew how to work; in fact, I loved to work. I had many summer jobs, and I did well in school. When I awoke to the fact that I needed to support myself fully, I was afraid, almost paralyzed, by the unforeseen challenges that seemed to loom ahead for me. I had no real job skills. My studies in liberal arts had fed my soul, but now I needed to feed my pocketbook.
I attended graduate school to learn skills to support myself. I loved every minute of learning and encountered not only new ideas but discovered my own capabilities. Where I had felt shy and somewhat vulnerable, I now felt capable and competent to face life on my own.

Sarah heard her mom call her. “Coming, Mom,” she called back. She set her doll on her bed and ran down the hall toward the kitchen. She took the shortest route through the family room—up onto the corner table, across the sofa, over the big stuffed chair, and around the breakfast bar. “Here I am,” she announced.
Mom smiled. “That was very fast,” she said, “but next time I would appreciate it if you walked around the furniture.”
Sarah giggled. “But then I wouldn’t be as fast.”
“That’s true, but now look who’s trying to do what you did.”
Sarah turned around and saw her little brother, Adam. He was standing on the corner table, ready to make the jump from the table to the sofa. Mom hurried over and lifted him off the table.
“Adam learns a lot from watching you,” said Mom. “You need to set a good example for him to follow.” She set Adam down on the floor. “The reason I called you was to tell you that I’m going to go outside to work in the garden,” Mom continued. “Do you want to come out with me?”
“Sure,” said Sarah. She looked down at her bare feet. “But I need to get my shoes on.” She turned to run back to her bedroom. Adam followed. This time she hurried around the furniture, and so did Adam.
“You’re right, Mom,” she said as she returned with her shoes in her hand, and Adam right behind her. “He does follow my example.”
Sarah sat down to put on her shoes.
“Sissy, outside,” said Adam, walking to the door.
“He knows you’re going outside because he sees you putting on your shoes,” Mom said. She followed Adam to the door. “We’re all going to go outside,” she told him with a smile.
Adam pulled on the doorknob but couldn’t turn it. He looked at Mom. “Open?”
Shoes on, Sarah ran to the door. “I’ll open it,” she said. She turned the doorknob and gave a mighty tug. Adam cheered when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the open door.
“Come on, Adam,” Sarah said, “let’s ride our trikes.”
Adam ran past Sarah to the swing set. “Swing, Mommy?” he said hopefully.
Sarah hopped onto her tricycle. “No, Adam, we’re going to ride our trikes,” she insisted.
“Swing, Mommy?” Adam repeated.
Mom lifted Adam into the swing. “I think Adam wants to swing right now,” she said to Sarah.
“He can’t,” Sarah said sadly. “He’s supposed to follow my example.”
Mom gave Adam a push. “Having him follow your example, and making him do what you tell him to do aren’t the same thing,” she said.
“They aren’t?” asked Sarah in a disappointed tone.
“No.” Mom explained, “Adam is just a little boy, but he is starting to make some of his own decisions. Sometimes he will do what you want him to do, and sometimes he won’t.”
“I wish he would always do what I want him to do,” said Sarah.
“But that’s not the way life works,” Mom pointed out. “We all have our agency, which means that we are free to make our own decisions. There are good examples that we can follow, and there are bad examples that we can follow.”
Sarah thought for a moment. “I know it’s all right for Adam to follow my example, but is it all right if I follow Adam’s example?”
Mom nodded. “It would be fine for you to follow Adam’s example as long as he’s not doing something wrong,” she said.
“I’m going to follow his example right now,” Sarah said, climbing off of her tricycle, “because I want to swing, too.”

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. At that time, the only means of travel between islands was by sailboat. Because of misunderstandings and traditions, it was difficult to find people willing to listen to us. However, one day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I was working alone at the time but quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. There was a nice breeze that moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the vast Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Those familiar with sailing know that to get anywhere, you need wind. Sometimes there are good breezes without storms and heavy seas, but often they go together. Sailors do not fear storms, for they contain the lifeblood of sailing—wind. What sailors fear is no wind, or being becalmed.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. What more righteous desire could a group of men have? I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
Then one of the older men suggested that everyone kneel and all unite their faith and prayers together, which we did. There was great struggling of spirit, but when the last person opened his eyes, nothing! No movement at all. The sails hung limp and listless. Even the slight ripple of the ocean against the side of the boat had ceased. The ocean seemed like a sea of glass.
Time was moving, and we were getting desperate. This same man now suggested that everyone kneel again in prayer and each person in turn offer a vocal prayer for the whole group. Many beautiful, pleading, faithful prayers ascended to heaven. But when the last one finished and everyone opened their eyes, the sun was still burning down with greater intensity than before. The ocean was like a giant mirror. It was almost as though Satan was laughing, saying, “See, you can’t go anywhere. There is no wind. You are in my power.”
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed this faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. I watched as he unlashed the tiny lifeboat, placed two oars with pins in their places, and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in.”
I answered, “What are you doing? There is hardly room for two people in that tiny thing!”
“Don’t waste any time or effort. Just get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I looked at him incredulously, “Row me where?”
“To the family that wants to hear the gospel. We have an assignment from the Lord. Get in.”
I was dumbfounded. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. But as I looked into the face of that faithful brother, I sensed an intensity in his gaze, an iron will in his very being, and a fixed determination in his voice as he said, “Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen.”
I again objected, “Look, you’re over three times my age. If this is to be, let me row.”
With that same look of determination and faith-induced will, the old man replied, “No. Leave it to me. Get in the boat. Don’t waste more time talking. Let’s go!” At his direction we got into the boat, with me in the front and the old man in the middle, his feet stretching to the end of the boat, his back to me.
The glazed surface of the ocean was disturbed by the intrusion of this small boat and seemed to complain, “This is my territory. Stay out.” Not a wisp of air stirred, not a sound was heard except the creaking of oars and the rattling of pins as the small craft began to move away from the sailboat.
The old man bent his back and began to row. Dip. Pull. Lift. Dip. Pull. Lift. Each dip of the oar seemed to break the resolve of the mirrorlike ocean. Each pull of the oar moved the tiny skiff forward, separating the glassy seas to make way for the Lord’s messenger. Dip. Pull. Lift. The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed. The muscles of his back and arms, strengthened by faith and moved by unalterable determination, flexed in a marvelous cadence like a fine-tuned watch. It was beautiful. We moved quietly, relentlessly toward an inevitable destiny. The old man concentrated his efforts and energy on fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family that wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I waded ashore, met the family, went to their home, and taught them the gospel. As I bore testimony of the power of God in this church, my mind saw an old Tongan man rowing to a distant harbor and waiting patiently there. I testified with a fervor as great as any I have ever felt that God does give power to men and women to do His will if they will have faith in Him. I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.
In the annals of history, few will be aware of this small incident. Hardly anyone will know about this insignificant island, the family who waited, or the obscure, old man who never once complained of fatigue, aching arms, painful back, or a hurting body. He never talked about thirst, the scorching sun, or the heat of the day as he relentlessly rowed uncomplainingly hour after hour. He referred only to the privilege of being God’s agent in bringing a missionary to teach the truth to those who desired to hear. But God knows! He gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when necessary.

Nigerians like to say that they live under “a fierce African sun.” Temperatures near the equator vary only slightly regardless of the season. So when we had our all-Africa service project in August, we began at 7:00 a.m. in order to get as much as possible done in the cooler morning hours.
With shovels, rakes, and machetes, we got to work clearing weeds and hauling trash from the vacant lot near our Yaba Ward building in the Lagos Nigeria Stake. After working for three hours, we had cleared about three acres (1.2 ha) of the four-acre (1.6 ha) lot.
“What do you think of rounding off with this small section and scheduling another day to finish clearing the lot?” the bishop asked.
Overhearing the bishop, Emmanuel, the teachers quorum president, expressed disappointment.
“If we leave this section undone, none of the youth will feel that they have done much today,” he said. “Please, let’s finish.”
Because the weeds were about six feet (1.8 m) high in most places, they obstructed our view and made it difficult to determine how much remained.
“Brother Hill, let’s see how long it might take you and me to clear a narrow path, maybe only two feet wide,” Emmanuel said. “If we can do it quickly, others may see that it is possible to finish sooner than they might imagine.”
The young men, divided in two groups, had been working on opposite ends of the lot all day. No one had broken through the maze of weeds to the other side. With an aching back, I went to my knees to find some relief while continuing to hack away at the weeds with a machete. Worried, some youth came to see if they could help and then pitched in when they saw Emmanuel and me working toward each other. Within minutes we had broken through to each other, and a small cheer went up. Seeing the breakthrough, others began working in pairs doing the same thing.
In less than an hour, we finished. Beaming with satisfaction, we congratulated each other—especially Emmanuel, who had literally provided a path for others to follow.
The bishop and I thought that we, in our age and wisdom, knew what these young men could accomplish. We saw only hot, tired boys, but Emmanuel saw an opportunity for his friends to build dignity and confidence. He knew that exerting extra effort would bring greater satisfaction to them than finishing the job later. He reminded us of the strength of the youth of the Church and how we all benefit when they contribute and lead.
I realized that we don’t need to wait for our youth to grow up—they can make a difference now if we let them.

In May of 1974, I was with Brother John H. Groberg in the Tongan islands. We had an appointment to visit the king of Tonga, and we met with him in a formal session. We exchanged the normal pleasantries. However, before we left, John Groberg said something that was out of the ordinary. He said, “Your Majesty, you should really become a Mormon and your subjects as well, for then your problems and their problems would largely be solved.”
The king smiled broadly and answered, “John Groberg, perhaps you’re right.”
I thought of the Apostle Paul before Agrippa. I thought of Agrippa’s response to Paul’s testimony: “Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian.” Brother Groberg had the courage to bear his testimony to a king.

If you don’t know that you are of great worth, I encourage you to do what I did after I began to grasp this absolute truth. I was in my 40s. (But don’t wait as long as I did to do this.) As it says in Moroni 10:4, I asked God “with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ” if he really loved me and if I had worth, even after some of the crazy things I had done. The experience I had after that prayerful encounter is what keeps me going whenever I doubt. I felt his love encircle me completely and with incredible warmth and compassion. I have never forgotten that feeling. For some of you, asking God these questions will be a leap of faith because you only know what the world has told you. You may feel you are not of worth and that you are beyond help. You may have settled into pleasurable or addictive behaviors that you’d rather not or think you cannot change. It will have to be for you, as Malcolm Muggeridge tells us, “faith that bridges the chasm between what our minds can know and what our souls aspire after” (Jesus: The Man Who Lives [New York: Harper and Row, 1975], p. 20). I encourage all of you to take that leap of faith and ask our Heavenly Father. He loves each of us enough to catch and steady our jump.

Goals are great! Almost everyone sets goals, and everyone reaches some level of success or failure in his efforts to reach them. Some goals seem almost unattainable—like running the sub-9-second 100-yard dash, or vaulting over 18 feet. Some goals are strange—like wanting to make the longest banana split in the whole world. And some goals are just downright ridiculous—like seeing how many live gold fish you can swallow.
But two young men from Ogden, Utah, set a goal that was a learning experience, a great character builder, and a goal that, as far as we know, has never been achieved before, especially by two brothers. Since they have been Scouts, Chad and Craig Carson, ages 15 and 16, have each earned every merit badge that has been offered by the Boy Scouts of America. Each has 127 merit badges. This is actually more merit badges than are now offered because some have been discontinued since Chad and Craig earned them. Both boys are Eagle Scouts and have found the Scouting program an exciting general education in itself. Their dad has figured that they have done enough reading, research, and study to qualify as sophomores in college.
Craig and Chad didn’t start earning all those merit badges until two years ago. Chad, the younger of the two, had a little catching up to do, but once the brothers were working together, they spent some time almost every day working toward their common goal. During one summer they earned 48 merit badges. It took more than half an hour to read them all at the Court of Honor. They now have all 127, and they each need two merit badge sashes to display their awards because there is only room for 100 per sash.
When asked which merit badges had given them the most trouble, both Chad and Craig said that beekeeping was the greatest challenge. It wasn’t so much doing the work as it was finding someone who was qualified to teach them and pass them on the badge requirements. After some searching and one unsuccessful attempt to get together with a beekeeper, they finally found a man who was teaching a class in beekeeping at Weber State College, and they were able to complete the merit badge requirements with his help. By the way, Chad and Craig are still beekeepers.
Cotton farming was also a tough one. When the brothers decided to work on this, they had to send away for the book because it seems that no one really raises cotton around Ogden anymore. And after they got the book, they just couldn’t find any cotton seeds. But their mother remembered that she had been in the South some 17 years before and had picked a ball of cotton as a memento. And there are seeds in a real cotton ball. Chad and Craig took the seeds that were in that 17-year-old cotton ball and grew four cotton plants.
Craig and Chad say that the physical skill merit badges have been the most fun to earn. They have learned how to ski, swim, shoot, water ski, and do many other things that they otherwise might not have had the opportunity to do.
When asked if they thought they had missed out on anything because they had spent so much time working on all those merit badges, Chad said, “No, sir! We’ve been able to do more ourselves and as a family because we have set goals. When we were going to get our skiing merit badge, Dad had to drive us up to take lessons, and he decided that instead of just waiting around, he might as well take lessons with us. Now we all ski. It has been great for the whole family.”
Craig said, “It’s not really hard to earn the merit badges if you put your mind to it. Scouts could earn a lot more merit badges if they tried, and if they did, they would be glad they put forth the effort.”
So, on September 21, 1974, Chad and Craig Carson received the last of the merit badges they could earn. Both brothers give a great deal of credit to their mother and father. Chad said that his mom was always saying, “Come on! You can do it!” She would help them schedule appointments and drive them wherever they had to go. At the beginning of the summer, she would help map out a plan for which merit badges they could earn. Both boys also had high praises for their Scout leaders. The leaders challenged them and helped in every way possible.
Now Chad and Craig think there should be a merit badge given to help Scouts like themselves figure out where they can keep all the projects, models and charts that it takes to earn all those badges.

A man passing the sacrament while listening to music on his headphones. This would be wildly inappropriate in most cases. But let me share “the rest of the story.” I knew a man who has a strong testimony and has served a mission and accepted a variety of callings. In recent years, however, he was diagnosed with a schizoaffective disorder. Wearing headphones lets him listen to soft, peaceful music and helps block out the ever-present voices in his mind. He is able to feel the Spirit and reverently serve others with the help of his headphones.

In 1841, Dan Jones, a Welsh immigrant, was the captain of one of the smallest registered boats carrying people and freight on the upper Mississippi River. It seems more than coincidence to me that his boat was named the Ripple. Among his passengers were members of an obscure “new” church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
During his journeys Dan Jones began to hear criticisms of these “Mormons.” Because he had ferried many of them, he had talked with them and observed their behavior. He found them to be good people—kind, honest, and hardworking. The negative comments and writings about these people did not match up with what he had experienced in his dealings with them.
“Through a careful investigation of the accusations,” he later wrote, “I perceived clearly that it was impossible for them to be true, either because … they overstated the case or … contradicted themselves” (quoted in Ronald D. Dennis, “Dan Jones, Welshman,” Ensign, Apr. 1987, 50).
One significant event in particular propelled Dan Jones from a careful observer to an active investigator of the Church. He wrote this: “Purely by accident, there fell into my hands … a letter which [Emma Smith] had written. … I shall never forget the feelings which that … letter caused me to have. I perceived clearly that not only did [she] believe the New Testament, the same as I—professing the apostolic faith, and rejoicing in the midst of her tribulations at being worthy to suffer all … for a testimony of Jesus and the gospel—but also it contained better counsel, more wisdom, and showed a more … godly spirit than anything I had ever read!” (Ensign, Apr. 1987, 50, 52).
Inspired by Emma’s words and example, Dan Jones sought to learn more about this church. In 1843 he was baptized in the Mississippi River and became one of the most influential missionaries in the history of the Church, bringing hundreds of people to the gospel in his native Wales. In a very literal way, Emma Smith’s influence continues to ripple through generations. Who can say how many hundreds, even thousands of the descendants of those Dan Jones introduced to the gospel may be listening to this meeting at this very hour?

God’s People of Talent and Goodness
I thought I would focus my talk on two experiences that have had enduring impacts on my life. These happened when I was a recent convert to the Church.
The second experience occurred some weeks or months after I had joined the Church. My father was an accomplished musician, a cellist in the Los Angeles Philharmonic. He could also play a half dozen other musical instruments and was a very talented painter. One day we were talking, and my agnostic father posed a question that went something like this: “The Jews claim to be God’s chosen people, and when I look at their tremendous historical influence in the arts, philosophy, science, and business—disproportionately large, relative to their small numbers—I have to acknowledge that it is not an outrageous claim. If the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are also God’s chosen people, how come I don’t see similar accomplishments and influence from members of your church?”
My father’s assumption—a common ­expectation—is that God’s true religion should have the power to transform its believers into people who are not only loving, ­compassionate, industrious, and generous—in other words, good—but also people who are capable of extra­ordinary achievements in the arts, sciences, sports, business, government, and religion. For example, the Jewish people can count more than two hundred Nobel Prize winners—around 20 percent of the total laureates. I believe that President Spencer W. Kimball also believed this, as he issued a bold declaration and challenge in his 1975 landmark address titled “The Second Century of Brigham Young University”:
I am both hopeful and expectant that out of this ­university and the Church Educational System there will rise brilliant stars in drama, literature, music, sculpture, painting, science, and in all the scholarly graces. This university can be the refining host for many such individuals who will touch men and women the world over long after they have left this campus.1
The Love of a Father
Putting these two experiences together, I believe that our loving Heavenly Father has afforded us additional grace through the covenants we have made. One potential purpose of those covenants is to empower us to become “brilliant stars” and “refining” agents, should we elect to do so. The gospel should also engender in us a heightened awareness of and empathy for the suffering of our neighbor. I have noticed this in my own almost forty-three years of discipleship as I have sought to know God through studying the scriptures, serving in Church callings, and serving mankind in other ways. I am a father of four sons and now also a grandfather of three adorable little boys. I naturally hope that they will emulate the kinds of life choices that have brought me great happiness. If God is also my Father, shouldn’t He logically have the same hope and expectations for all of His children?
In his general conference talk entitled “The Grandeur of God,” Elder Jeffrey R. Holland taught us one key truth about how we can come to know God:
Of the many magnificent purposes served in the life and ministry of the Lord Jesus Christ, one great aspect of that mission often goes uncelebrated. His followers did not understand it fully at the time, and many in modern Christianity do not grasp it now, but the Savior Himself spoke of it repeatedly and emphatically. It is the grand truth that in all that Jesus came to say and do, including and especially in His atoning suffering and sacrifice, He was showing us who and what God our Eternal Father is like. . . . In word and in deed Jesus was trying to reveal and make personal to us the true nature of His Father, our Father in Heaven.
He did this at least in part because then and now all of us need to know God more fully in order to love Him more deeply and obey Him more completely.2
Incidentally, I did a word count and found that Jesus referred to God by the title of “Father” 180 times in 3 Nephi and 113 times in the Gospel of John—far more frequently than any other title for Deity.

That care and love I have been fortunate to observe as the blessings of ministering were poured upon my family.
While I was travelling for work some time ago, my wife fell very ill and I could not immediately be with her and the children. Her situation became so dire that she was almost admitted to hospital. All I could do was to phone her and try to comfort her.
As soon as my wife missed this one Sunday when she was ill, I got a reassuring message from one of her Relief Society sisters: that they would immediately set in motion a chain of actions to help a sister in need.
I still get emotional as I re-read a series of WhatsApp messages of that very tough day. As soon as word spread that all was not well in my household, one of her ministering sisters asked on WhatsApp two simple but poignant questions: “Are the kids sick, too? Would you like a meal or two?”
Unsurprisingly, my wife felt helpless. All she could say was, “Yes.”
This “Yes” I now know was an affirmation of her belief that, with ministering, help is never far away. In the end I realized that not only was my wife ill that weekend, but our three children as well because everyone had contracted a very bad strain of flu.
The help was generous, and my wife assured me that it was sufficient enough that I would not have to cut my business trip short to rush home.
I knew these women who were her ministering sisters. Their diligence often inspired me to do my own ministering service as they never missed an appointment with my wife.

I was in the military—had not been on a mission, had not had any college, and often was alone. We often are alone, all of us, in our lives. I became a product of the Book of Mormon.

I have here a small, serviceman’s copy of the Book of Mormon. It is bound in leather, real leather. I picked up an old leather pilot’s flight jacket in the wreckage of our headquarters on the little island of Ie Shima in the Ryukyu Islands. It was wet, and the building was torn all to pieces. Everything on the island was destroyed by a hurricane. I rescued the old leather pilot’s jacket from the wreckage. The cover of my Book of Mormon was getting very torn, so I gave it a leather cover, genuine leather. I sewed it on myself. The bindings I took from the strings of a parachute that likewise had been ruined.

I do not know whether it has any meaning, but there was one other thing I picked up in that wreckage of the orderly room: a dictionary. I found out you cannot find anything unless you know how to spell it before you look! That became part of my education.

May I offer counsel of a general nature, first with comments about General Authorities. We recognize them as instruments in the hand of the Lord, yet realize that they are ordinary human beings. They require haircuts, laundry services, and occasional reminders just like anyone else. President Benson once shared with us a story to illustrate. He said:
“Orson F. Whitney … was a great man to concentrate. One day when he was traveling by train, he was so preoccupied that he did not notice the train pass the station where he was to get off. So he had to [be driven] back to where he should have been. Meanwhile, the stake president waited and waited. … Finally when he decided that something had more than likely happened to Brother Whitney and he was not going to make it, they commenced the meeting. As Elder Whitney approached, he was greeted by the opening hymn, which was ‘Ye Simple Souls Who Stray.’”
We honor such a man because of his extraordinary calling. His official acts are valid on earth and in heaven. Well do I remember the first time I met one of the General Authorities. It was a feeling beyond description. Though I was but a boy, immediately—almost instinctively—I rose to my feet. Even now I feel that same way when one of the Brethren enters the room. A General Authority is an oracle of God.

After the brilliant red, yellow, and orange autumn leaves had fallen and winter’s chill set in, Erastus bid good-bye to parents, kin, friends, and Vermont. On November 8, 1835, the day before his 17th birthday, he and Elder Hazen Aldrich started West for Kirtland, Ohio, to meet the Prophet Joseph Smith. Levi Snow, knowing his son preferred preaching to farming, gave Erastus permission to leave and also put 15 dollars into the youngster’s pocket.

Despite winter storms that blocked their boat on Lake Erie, Erastus and Hazen Aldrich managed to reach Kirtland, Ohio, early in December 1835—a 700-mile trip. There Erastus met Joseph Smith for the first time and inspected the nearly finished Kirtland Temple. For several weeks Erastus boarded with the Smiths, earning his keep by doing chores. “During the winter I continued to preach on the Sabbath in Kirtland and the surrounding neighborhood,” he said, “and attended grammar school during the week, which was taught by Sidney Rigdon.”

Before I got my patriarchal blessing, I prayed to know if it was the right time for me to receive my blessing. Then I prepared myself by becoming more spiritually in tune. When the day came I was so excited! While my patriarchal blessing was being pronounced upon me, I imagined that my Heavenly Father was there with his hands on my head saying the words himself. In that way my patriarchal blessing was much more personal to me.
Colleen Peterson, 15Salem, Oregon