Gospel Story Finder

A few years ago, my younger sister, Brooklynn, and I visited my aunt and uncle for a couple of weeks. We had only been at my aunt’s house for a few minutes when my cousin Jenna and her boyfriend, Merrick, burst inside, eager to see us.
Over the next few weeks, we did many things with Jenna and Merrick. We went swimming together, rode scooters, watched movies, and jumped on Jenna’s trampoline. We also played card games together. But my favorite activity was dressing Merrick up in costumes.
Merrick was not a member of the Church. But since we had become good friends, I decided to invite him to come to church with us. Jenna, Brooklynn, and I were very happy when Merrick said yes. It was a wonderful Sunday being able to see Merrick at church, smiling and listening to the talks about eternal families. He wanted to know more about our beliefs and came to church the next week too.
Two months later Merrick was baptized. Then he left to join the military. He and Jenna wrote to each other while he was away. After two years Merrick and Jenna were married in the Salt Lake Temple! It was wonderful to see Jenna and Merrick coming out of the temple together. Who would have guessed two years ago that an eight-year-old girl asking a simple question could help lead to a temple marriage?
Knowing the wonderful happiness that can come from inviting someone to church has given me courage and excitement to be a young missionary to my friends and neighbors.

I should like to be for a few minutes a witness in support of the proposition that the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored in our day and that this is His Church, which was organized under His direction through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I should like to give some reasons for the faith I have and for my allegiance to the Church. Perhaps I can do this more quickly by referring to an interview I had in London, England, in 1939, just before the outbreak of [World War II]. I had met a very prominent English gentleman, a member of the House of Commons, formerly one of the justices of the Supreme Court of England. In my conversations with this gentleman on various subjects, “vexations of the soul” he called them, we talked about business and law, about politics, international relations and war, and we frequently discussed religion. He called me on the phone one day and asked if I would meet him at his office and explain some phases of the gospel. He said: “I think there is going to be a war. If there is, you will have to return to America, and we may not meet again.” His statement regarding the imminence of war and the possibility that we would not meet again proved to be prophetic. When I went to his office, he said he was intrigued by some things I had told him. He asked me to prepare a brief on Mormonism … and discuss it with him as I would discuss a legal problem.
He said: “You have told me that you believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet. You have said to me that you believe that God the Father and Jesus of Nazareth appeared to Joseph Smith. I cannot understand how a barrister and solicitor from Canada, a man trained in logic and evidence, could accept such absurd statements. What you tell me about Joseph Smith seems fantastic, but I think you should take three days at least to prepare a brief and permit me to examine it and question you on it.”
I suggested that we proceed at once and have an examination for discovery, which is briefly a meeting of opposing sides in a lawsuit where the plaintiff and defendant, with their attorneys, meet to examine each other’s claims and see if they can find some area of agreement, thus saving the time of the court later on. I said perhaps we could see whether we had some common ground from which we could discuss my “fantastic” ideas. He agreed to that quite readily.
I can only give you, in the few minutes at my disposal, a condensed and abbreviated synopsis of the three-hour conversation which followed. In the interest of time I shall resort to the question-and-answer method rather than narration. I began by asking, “May I proceed, sir, on the assumption that you are a Christian?”
“I am.”
“I assume you believe in the Bible—the Old and New Testament?”
“I do!”
“Do you believe in prayer?”
“I do!”
“You say that my belief that God spoke to a man in this age is fantastic and absurd?”
“To me, it is.”
“Do you believe that God ever did speak to anyone?”
“Certainly. All through the Bible we have evidence of that.”
“Did He speak to Adam?”
“Yes.”
“To Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jacob, Joseph, and on through the prophets?”
“I believe He spoke to each of them.”
“Do you believe that contact between God and man ceased when Jesus appeared on the earth?”
“No, such communication reached its climax, its apex at that time.”
“Do you believe that Jesus was the Son of God?”
“He was.”
“Do you believe, sir, that after Jesus was resurrected a certain lawyer, who was also a tent maker by the name of Saul of Tarsus, when on his way to Damascus, talked with Jesus of Nazareth, who had been crucified, resurrected, and had ascended into heaven?”
“I do.”
“Whose voice did Saul hear?”
“It was the voice of Jesus Christ, for He so introduced Himself.”
“Then, … I am submitting to you in all seriousness that it was standard procedure in Bible times for God to talk to man.”
“I think I will admit that, but it stopped shortly after the first century of the Christian era.”
“Why do you think it stopped?”
“I can’t say.”
“You think that God hasn’t spoken since then?”
“I am sure He hasn’t.”
“There must be a reason; can you give me a reason?”
“I do not know.”
“May I suggest some possible reasons: perhaps God does not speak to man anymore because He cannot. He has lost the power.”
He said, “Of course that would be blasphemous.”
“Well, then, if you don’t accept that, perhaps He doesn’t speak to men because He doesn’t love us anymore. He is no longer interested in the affairs of men.”
“No,” he said, “God loves all men, and He is no respecter of persons.”
“Well, then, if He could speak and if He loves us, then the only other possible answer, as I see it, is that we don’t need Him. We have made such rapid strides in science, we are so well educated, that we don’t need God anymore.”
And then he said, and his voice trembled as he thought of impending war: “Mr. Brown, there never was a time in the history of the world when the voice of God was needed as it is needed now. Perhaps you can tell me why He doesn’t speak.”
My answer was: “He does speak. He has spoken, but men need faith to hear Him.”
Then we proceeded to prepare what I may call a “profile of a prophet.” … We agreed, between us, that the following characteristics should distinguish a man who claims to be a prophet.
A. He will boldly claim that God [has] spoken to him.
B. Any man so claiming would be a dignified man with a dignified message; no table-jumping, no whisperings from the dead, no clairvoyance, but an intelligent statement of truth.
C. Any man claiming to be a prophet of God would declare his message without any fear and without making any weak concessions to public opinion.
D. If he were speaking for God, he could not make concessions although what he taught would be new and contrary to the accepted teachings of the day. A prophet bears witness to what he has seen and heard and seldom tries to make a case by argument. His message and not himself is important.
E. Such a man would speak in the name of the Lord, saying, “Thus saith the Lord,” as did Moses, Joshua, and others.
F. Such a man would predict future events in the name of the Lord, and they would come to pass, as did Isaiah and Ezekiel.
G. He would have not only an important message for his time but often a message for all future time, such as Daniel, Jeremiah, and others had.
H. He would have courage and faith enough to endure persecution and to give his life, if need be, for the cause he espoused, such as Peter, Paul, and others did.
I. Such a man would denounce wickedness fearlessly. He would generally be rejected or persecuted by the people of his time, but later generations, the descendants of his persecutors, would build monuments in his honor.
J. He would be able to do superhuman things, things that no man could do without God’s help. The consequence or result of his message and work would be convincing evidence of his prophetic calling. “By their fruits ye shall know them” [Matt. 7:20].
K. His teachings would be in strict conformity with scripture, and his words and his writings would become scripture. “For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost” (2 Pet. 1:21).
Now, I have given but an outline which you can fill in and amplify and then measure and judge the Prophet Joseph Smith by the work and stature of other prophets.
As a student of the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith for more than 50 years, I say to you … , by these standards Joseph Smith qualifies as a prophet of God.
I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God because he talked like a prophet. He was the first man since the Apostles of Jesus Christ were slain to make the claim which prophets have always made, [namely,] that God had spoken to him. He lived and died like a prophet. I believe he was a prophet of God because he gave to this world some of the greatest of all revelations. I believe that he was a prophet of God because he predicted many things which have come to pass, things which only God could bring to pass.
John, the beloved disciple of Jesus, declared, “The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy” [Rev. 19:10]. If Joseph Smith had the testimony of Jesus, he had the spirit of prophecy, and if he had the spirit of prophecy, he was a prophet. I submit to you, and I submitted to my friend, that as much as any man who ever lived he had a testimony of Jesus, for, like the Apostles of old, he saw Him and heard Him speak. He gave his life for that testimony. I challenge any man to name one who has given more evidence of the divine calling of Jesus Christ than did the Prophet Joseph Smith.
I believe the Prophet Joseph Smith was a prophet because he did many superhuman things. One was translating the Book of Mormon. Some people will not agree, but I submit to you that the Prophet Joseph Smith in translating the Book of Mormon did a superhuman work. I ask you … to undertake to write a story on the ancient inhabitants of America. Write as he did without any source of material. Include in your story 54 chapters dealing with wars, 21 historical chapters, 55 chapters on visions and prophecies, and, remember, when you begin to write on visions and prophecies you must have your record agree meticulously with the Bible. You write 71 chapters on doctrine and exhortation, and, here too, you must check every statement with the scriptures or you will be proven to be a fraud. You must write 21 chapters on the ministry of Christ, and everything you claim He said and did and every testimony you write in your book about Him must agree absolutely with the New Testament.
I ask you, would you like to undertake such a task? I would suggest to you too that you must employ figures of speech, similes, metaphors, narrations, exposition, description, oratory, epic, lyric, logic, and parables. Undertake that, will you? I ask you to remember that the man that translated the Book of Mormon was a young man who hadn’t had the opportunity of schooling that you have had, and yet he dictated that book in just over two months and made very few, if any, corrections. For over 100 years, some of the best students and scholars of the world have been trying to prove from the Bible that the Book of Mormon is false, but not one of them has been able to prove that anything he wrote was not in strict harmony with the scriptures. …
Joseph Smith undertook and accomplished other superhuman tasks; among them I list the following: He organized the Church. (I call attention to the fact that no constitution effected by human agency has survived 100 years without modification or amendment, even the Constitution of the United States. The basic law or constitution of the Church has never been altered.) He undertook to carry the gospel message to all nations, which is a superhuman task still in progress. He undertook, by divine command, to gather thousands of people to Zion. He instituted vicarious work for the dead and built temples for that purpose. He promised that certain signs should follow the believers, and there are thousands of witnesses who certify that this promise has been fulfilled.
I said to my friend, “… I cannot understand your saying to me that my claims are fantastic. Nor can I understand why Christians who claim to believe in Christ would persecute and put to death a man whose whole purpose was to prove the truth of the things they themselves were declaring, namely, that Jesus was the Christ. I could understand them for persecuting Joseph if he had said, ‘I am Christ,’ or if he had said, ‘There is no Christ,’ or if he had said someone else is Christ. Then Christians believing in Christ would be justified in opposing him. But what he said was, ‘He whom ye claim to serve, declare I unto you. … I testify that I saw Him and talked with Him. He is the Son of God. Why persecute me for that?’” …
Perhaps some of you are wondering how the judge reacted to our discussion. He sat and listened intently; he then asked some very pointed and searching questions, and at the end of the period he said: “Mr. Brown, I wonder if your people appreciate the import of your message. Do you?” He said, “If what you have told me is true, it is the greatest message that has come to this earth since the angels announced the birth of Christ.”
This was a judge speaking, a great statesman, an intelligent man. He threw out the challenge: “Do you appreciate the import of what you say?” He added: “I wish it were true. I hope it may be true. God knows it ought to be true. I would to God,” he said, and he wept as he said it, “that some man could appear on earth and authoritatively say, ‘Thus saith the Lord.’”
As I intimated, we did not meet again. I have brought to you very briefly some of the reasons why I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. But undergirding and overarching all that, I say to you from the very center of my heart that by the revelations of the Holy Ghost I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. While these evidences and many others that could be cited may have the effect of giving one an intellectual conviction, only by the whisperings of the Holy Spirit can one come to know the things of God. By those whisperings I say I know that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. I thank God for that knowledge.

I was ordained a deacon in a branch so small that I was the only deacon and my brother Ted the only teacher. We were the only family in the branch. The entire branch met in our home. The priesthood leader for my brother and me was a new convert who had just received the priesthood himself. I believed then my only priesthood duty was to pass the sacrament in my own dining room.
When my family moved to Utah, I found myself in a large ward with many deacons. In my first sacrament meeting there, I observed the deacons—an army, it seemed to me—moving with precision as they passed the sacrament like a trained team.
I was so frightened that the next Sunday I went early to the ward building to be by myself when no one could see me. I remember that it was the Yalecrest Ward in Salt Lake City, and it had a statue on the grounds. I went behind the statue and prayed fervently for help to know how not to fail as I took my place in passing the sacrament. That prayer was answered.
But I know now that there is a better way to pray and to think as we try to grow in our priesthood service. It has come by my understanding why individuals are given the priesthood. The purpose for our receiving the priesthood is to allow us to bless people for the Lord, doing so in His name.
It was years after I was a deacon when I learned what that means practically. For instance, as a high priest, I was assigned to visit a care center sacrament meeting. I was asked to pass the sacrament. Instead of thinking about the process or precision in the way I passed the sacrament, I instead looked in the faces of each elderly person. I saw many of them weeping. One lady grabbed my sleeve, looked up, and said aloud, “Oh, thank you, thank you.”
The Lord had blessed my service given in His name. That day I had prayed for such a miracle to come instead of praying for how well I might do my part. I prayed that the people would feel the Lord’s love through my loving service. I have learned this is the key to serving and blessing others in His name.

I went on a fathers and sons’ campout with my ward. My friends and I hiked down a canyon. We chose the oldest boy, Hunter, to be our leader. When we came to a curve in the canyon, Hunter warned us that we shouldn’t go around the curve. He had a feeling that something bad would happen if we did. So we turned around and walked in the other direction. Later, when we were hiking with our dads and we went around that curve, Hunter’s dad almost stepped on a rattlesnake! A rattlesnake’s rattle is a warning, but the Holy Ghost can warn us about all kinds of danger. I am thankful Hunter listened to the Holy Ghost so we could all be safe.

My husband and I recently attended a commencement exercise for our oldest son, Tom, who was graduating from law school. On graduation day, as I strained to get a glimpse of Tom in the sea of caps and gowns, my eyes searched for his face, but my heart and mind were traveling through time to years gone by. My momentary vision was blurred by a flood of memories mixed with tears. Let me share just one of those memories with you.
I remembered a little boy of three who was trying to write his name. I had written T O M for him on a piece of paper and then left him to practice while I bathed the baby. A little later he proudly showed me his finished product: M O T, it clearly read. Because of my experience as a school teacher, I was aware that young children often read and write in reverse, a condition that sometimes continues into adulthood. Fortunately, it turned out that Tom’s problem was easily solved, but at that moment my mind was full of possibilities and solutions.
I suggested that he should write the T first. He came back again a few minutes later with the same result: M O T.
I put my hand on his to guide him, explaining that we would begin with the T first, but he pulled away from me insisting, “I always start with the T and you always say it’s wrong. I just can’t do it.” And with that, he tore the paper into little pieces and threw them away. He was in no mood for a writing lesson, so we went for a walk. Later that night, when he felt like trying again, we got out a new sheet of paper. He wrote his name in big letters (this time for his dad). I watched him from across the room, and he was right. He did start with the T. His problem was that he then moved to the left with the next two letters instead of to the right!
Before I had a chance to explain that our child’s self-esteem was at stake, his dad teased, “Oh, I didn’t know we had a little boy named Mot.” Well, at that point, the evening was all over for Tom. No amount of praise for the well-formed letters or suggestions that we would help him do it right consoled him. Right there, at age three, Tom believed he was a failure. As I sat by his bed and soothed him to sleep, I knew better. I saw potential in him that he could not see in himself. I knew, though he did not, that he would learn to write his name, but that was not the important point. Even if he never learned to write his name he would not be a failure in my eyes.
As I watched his little body relax into sleep and reflected on the day’s events, I felt very much the protective parent, and I wondered how often our Heavenly Father sees us in just that same way. Hasn’t he told us, “As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; … And when ye see this, your heart shall rejoice” (Isa. 66:13–14). How many times when we see ourselves as failures does Heavenly Father wish he could pick us up from despair, hold us in his arms and tell us that we are not failures, and that if we will have faith, he will help us overcome our trials?
Certainly it would have been easier for me to have written Tom’s name correctly every time he wanted it on something, but I knew that the only way he would learn would be for him to do it himself. My job was to show him how, to point him in the right direction. In the same way, our Heavenly Father wants us to grow through our own experiences. This means he probably won’t solve our calculus problems for us, pay our tuition, write our English papers, study our chemistry, or turn our roommates into perfect people. But he will help us and give us direction—if we ask for his help. As we do the work, our Father in Heaven will help lift our burdens. You might think of it as a joint effort. Remember the Lord’s promise to us: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28).
Eventually, Tom was writing his name everywhere (yes, all three letters in the correct order). We found Tom written in chalk on the sidewalk in front of our house, on a piece of paper taped to his bedroom door, in crayon on the kitchen countertop, and in the dust over and over on our unwashed car. With that last accomplishment he proudly took me outside to show off what he had done. The look of triumph in his eyes made me certain that no amount of three-year-old spit and dust could possibly harm the finish on a car. I gave him a hug and didn’t even suggest that we would need to wash the car soon.

I have a tendency to look for grand answers to my challenges—to ask the Lord to help me find that one thing that will fix everything. I’ve learned that such an approach can overcomplicate things.
As I was teaching the Gospel Doctrine class in my ward, I was determined to ask profound questions that would require contemplation and big, new, insightful answers. In other words, I wanted to avoid a recitation of the same old “Sunday School answers” that ward members seemed to offer each week.
As I pored over the New Testament in preparation, I was struck by the use of the word abide, which appears over and over. For example, John 15:10 says, “If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in his love” (emphasis added).
In His great Intercessory Prayer, the Savior prays that His disciples “may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us” and “I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one” (John 17:21, 23).
Much of what I searched for was how I could be one with the Lord, how I could abide in His love, and how, as a result, I could develop extra patience—patience I so desperately needed to turn my experiences from ones that exhausted me to ones that invigorated and sanctified me.
Ironically, as I searched for both an understanding of the word abide and answers to the difficult challenges I faced on a daily basis, I was ultimately led back to the precise Sunday School answers I had been trying to avoid. I found the answers to my challenges by reading the scriptures, praying daily, serving my family and others, and attending the temple and my Sunday meetings. I learned that those simple things make the difference between enduring and enduring well and with patience.
The Sunday School answers really are the best answers.

Anciently, certain women sacrificed as they testified and lived the teachings of Jesus. Certain women in the early days of the Restoration did the same. Drusilla Hendricks and her family were among those who, as new converts, suffered during the persecution of the Saints in Clay County, Missouri. Her husband was permanently paralyzed during the Battle of Crooked River. She was left to care for him as well as provide for her family.

“At one particularly distressing time, when the family was out of food, she remembered that a voice told her, ‘Hold on, for the Lord will provide.’”

When her son was needed to volunteer for the Mormon Battalion, at first Drusilla resisted and wrestled in prayer with Heavenly Father until “it was as though a voice said to her, ‘Do you not want the highest glory?’ She answered naturally, ‘Yes,’ and the voice continued, ‘How do you think to gain it save by making the greatest sacrifices?’”8

Let me take a few minutes to tell you about a beautiful young lady of whom we are all very proud. I will identify her as Diane because that is her real name. Diane was captain of the University of Utah’s first national women’s championship gymnastics team. In Miami, Florida, for the first-ever American professional tour, she over-rotated on a practice vault, landed on her neck, and damaged her spinal cord. Her slender, delicate body, which had endured hundreds of hours of demanding routines and the accompanying torturous training, was broken. The gal with the dazzling smile who was recognized as the heart of the team was now faced with the challenge of accepting sympathy as her reward or getting on with her life.
Early in her gymnastics career when someone asked her, “Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt?” she replied, “No, you take the glory and you take the knocks. I’ll just take whatever comes.”
Diane’s capacity to cope and get on with her life is best measured by her graduating from college two and one-half years after being paralyzed from the chest down. Wheelchair- bound, she seldom missed a class, was a good student, and was popular with classmates and instructors.
Just a few weeks ago Diane wheeled herself into a third-grade classroom in a Salt Lake area elementary school, swallowed hard, and faced the curious students as their nervous teacher. “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” she says with conviction. “I can’t think of anything I’d want to do more.” “How about performing in the Olympics?” she was asked. “Yes,” she responds wistfully, “I wanted that a lot, too.”
How refreshing is her enduring attitude: “I always got around fairly well on campus in my wheelchair alone, but when I came to steep hills I made friends in a hurry.”
Diane has taken the knocks and the glory. She cares and she shares. She finds fun where others may not see it: “I’m genuinely happy and content with my life. I’m not bitter or angry. In a way I’m just as athletic as I ever was.”
With her superb attitude and self-discipline, and with the help of a loving family, friends, and students, she continues to “go for the gold.” Diane, thank you for teaching us what enduring is all about.

Jesus said, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.” (Rev. 3:20.) Although this expression is figurative, I know that Jesus will keep the spiritual meaning of the promise. He will communicate with us, and we can come to know him as if he had dined with us. A personal experience may tell you how this can happen.

About a year ago, I was driving home from an extended backpacking trip with my 11-year-old son. As we traveled along in silent thought, he startled me with a question I was not quite prepared for: “Dad, how do you think it would be if I went on a mission for the Church to Canada?” His older brother and I had both been on LDS missions to Canada, and so this was not what startled me. Instead, I was wondering how God could know my little son well enough among all the millions of children on earth to fashion a special mission just for him. As I pondered this notion while driving along the road, something warm and wonderful, wonderful beyond description, passed through me. I know it was the Spirit of God. The still, small voice had whispered to me: “I know you and your son better than you know yourselves. I love you with a great love.”

This is only one of the many ways that I have come, through the Spirit, to know of the reality of God. He is near us and wants us to know him. The trouble is that we are too far from him. But if we will draw near to him in faith and repentance, he will draw near to us. His Spirit will teach us of him. I do not think there is another way—not through science or any other way except as he has appointed.

Peace McBride, an apprentice seamstress, and her mistress, Mrs. Root, have heard the Prophet Joseph Smith preach, studied the Book of Mormon, and been baptized into the Church. Now Peace has received Sister Root’s permission and the necessary money to visit her family in a distant county to share her joy in the gospel with them.
On the eve of a brand new decade, December 31, 1839, Peace was bundled in a warm cloak and sitting on top of a coach. Only something as important as the gospel could make Peace take such a journey. Sister Root had tried for days to find someone who was traveling toward the town of Chester Springs, but there were few travelers this time of year. Even so, not a seat was left inside the coach, and no one had been willing to give up his seat to the young girl. I won’t think of the cold, Peace decided. I’ll think of how warm I was after my baptism, of Sister Root’s warm parlor, of anything but the cold.
Cheerfully she hugged a paper-wrapped parcel to her chest. It was Sister Root’s copy of the Book of Mormon. She had given it to Peace as the excited girl had boarded the stage. “I shouldn’t let you be doing this,” Sister Root had fretted. “But since you’re going, here, take the book. It won’t do you much good to just talk about it—your folks need a chance to read it.”
Feeling cold creep around her toes as the coach got farther and farther from Philadelphia, Peace wriggled them and thought about the past few weeks. There had been such a change in her employer! Peace could remember when sour words and slaps were served up regularly to her. Sister Root’s whole manner had changed from the time that she first listened to the Prophet.
Glancing around, Peace noticed that the slush in the road had frozen. She stomped her feet and moved her arms to keep warm. Finally she saw the inn up ahead. It was a two-day trip home, and whenever she made it, she always stayed there.
After a warm meal, Peace felt better and hurried to her room. She knew that the coach would leave shortly after dawn, and she needed all the sleep that she could get. Wrapping herself in the quilts, she drifted peacefully to sleep.
Several hours later she awoke as cold again gripped her. The cozy little room that she had enjoyed in the summer was far from any heat source. Seeing frost forming around the window and on the panes, Peace knew that it was frightfully cold. Reaching for her cloak, she hastily put it on over her nightclothes. Back under the covers, she shivered until she was warm enough to fall asleep again.
The frost was so thick on the panes when Peace awoke a second time that light from the feeble sunrise hardly penetrated the room. She dressed under the covers, then hurried to the gathering room. The other travelers were already huddled around the fire, so she had to stand behind them, where she could barely feel its warmth.
A warm breakfast and cheerful words from the inn-keeper helped. Bracing herself, Peace again took her seat on top of the coach. This time she wore all the clothes that she had brought with her. Yet, before noon, her throat was scratchy. By evening, she was really sick. As the coach approached Chester Springs, she was so ill that she hardly knew what was happening around her.
A kind farmer going her way agreed to take Peace to her family’s farm. It was only two miles outside of town, but to Peace the trip took forever. Each time the wagon hit a rut, her head seemed to explode with pain.
Hearing her mother’s voice was almost like being in heaven. Peace tried to rise from where she lay in the back of the farmer’s wagon, but she sank back weakly.
“Peace!” her mother cried. “Whatever are you doing here?” She bustled around and fussed as the farmer and Mr. McBride carried the girl into the house.
It was bliss for Peace to lie in a soft, warm bed in the safety of her home. Her mother helped undress her and started to take the paper-wrapped parcel from her.
“No!” Peace mumbled. “I need to keep this with me. It’s why I came here, and it’s very important.”
“Important or not,” her mother said firmly, “it’s going on the dresser. It will be there when you get better.”
It was a week before Peace felt well enough to even sit up. She had developed a fever and a deep cough and was able to do little but lie there and try to get well.
“You’re awake!” her mother said cheerfully one morning as she came into Peace’s room. “After breakfast and a wash, you’ll feel much better, I’m sure.”
Peace smiled at her mother. It was so good to be home. Looking over at the dresser, she noticed that the parcel was gone. “Where did my book go?”
“I have it, but not for long.”
Peace looked up in surprise at the angry tone of her mother’s voice.
“How did you come by such a book,” her mother asked.
“Sister Root gave it to me.”
“I should never have let you go off on your own.”
“But, Mother, you know I had to. It was an opportunity for the whole family for me to train with such a great dressmaker.”
“She promised to watch over you!”
Peace smiled at her mother and hoped to get her in a better mood. “She watched over me very well. Do you know anything about the Book of Mormon?”
“Reverend Thompson said that the book is of the devil. He told me to burn it!”
Peace sat up in bed. “You didn’t, did you?” she cried.
“Not yet.” Her mother’s face softened. “It seemed to mean so much to you. And you came so far to bring it to us. I’ll admit that I was a little curious about it, because you value it, so I read a little of it.”
“Did it sound like the devil wrote it?” Peace asked softly.
“Well, no,” her mother admitted and smiled back at Peace. “I read a beautiful story about the Savior visiting a strange people in a land that I never heard of.”
“Bountiful?”
“Yes, that’s it. I have to say that it was a beautiful tale!”
“Oh, Mother,” Peace said fervently, “it’s more than a tale. It’s true—every word of it! If you read about it and pray about it, you’ll know that too.”
“Reverend Thompson said that no God-loving person would get involved with this book. He’s a good man, and he’s been our minister since you were a baby.”
Peace didn’t know what to say. Reverend Thompson was a good man. He’d been more than kind to her over the years. “Have the Mormon elders been in this area?”
“Yes, they have,” her mother answered. “Why?”
“Did many people listen and join the Church?”
“Yes. In fact, the number of people in our church has dwindled. And Reverend Thompson is very unhappy about it.”
“There, Mother. That’s your answer. Reverend Thompson is afraid that he’ll lose his congregation.”
Now it was her mother’s turn to look thoughtful. “You may be right. …”
“Mother, will you and Father read the whole book—and pray sincerely about it? Then if you have any questions, we can ask the elders to come visit.”
“I’m still not sure.”
“Please? It means so much to me.”
Peace’s mother loved her oldest daughter very much. She had been parted from her for a long time, and she felt that it wouldn’t hurt to do as Peace asked.
“All right. I will read it, and I’ll ask your father if he will too. I can’t promise more than that.”
“I know,” Peace said understandingly. “Sister Root didn’t want to believe, either. She wouldn’t let me be baptized until she knew more about the Church.”
“Rightly so,” her mother agreed. “I guess that maybe she was caring for you well.”
With just a few days left till she had to go back, Peace spent all the time that she could with her two brothers and three little sisters. She talked to them about the big city and the things that she had seen. “Not long ago I went into a big church near Mistress Root’s shop. There was a man speaking there,” she told them. “His name is Joseph Smith. He’s a very great man, and he’s a prophet.”
“Like Moses?” Jimmy asked in wonder.
“Yes, like Moses. When he talked, I felt that he had great power. We all felt it, and it changed my life.” She told them all that had happened to her. She told them, too, about the Savior and His visit to the New World. They listened eagerly as she told them stories from the Book of Mormon.
Because it was winter, the McBrides spent most of their time indoors. Peace read the Book of Mormon to her father as he mended harnesses and to her mother while she knitted. They listened intently to what Peace read, and her brothers and sisters did too.
Peace attended sacrament meeting at the small branch. Afterward she invited the elders to visit her family. When they came, her father asked many questions. He didn’t say much but nodded his head as the elders answered him.
The time soon came when Peace had to leave. Her heart was heavy because her parents still had not committed themselves to joining the Church.
Her father took her in their wagon to the inn and placed her bag inside the boot of the coach. Peace had a seat inside this time. She also had a warm quilt that her mother made for her to wrap up in.
“Good-bye, Peace,” her father told her, giving her a big hug. “I know what you want from your mother and me. I’m proud of you for believing your religion enough to suffer hardship to try to bring it to us. We’re not ready yet. Don’t give up on us, though. Just give us time.”
Peace left with a warm feeling. She knew that no matter what happened, she had done what she could to teach her family. Now she would give time and the Holy Ghost a chance to finish the work.

You young priesthood bearers might as well learn early that your dads and moms will never let you go. This was brought very vividly to my attention several conferences ago when one of the sessions in which I was a speaker was televised to California. My mother resides there.

When I got back to the office after the session was over, there was a note to “call your mother.” And so I did, and I thought, “Well, she is calling to congratulate her son.” When I reached her on the phone I asked, “Mom, how are you?”

She said, “Paul, I just saw you on TV. Young man, you are not getting enough sleep. You look terrible.” Thank God for parents who care and who never let go!

I grew up in a dry country. It seemed to me that hardly ever was there enough rain to last through the crop-growing period to carry us through the season—not enough water to distribute between the many hungry canals and the tens of thousands of thirsty hectares, not enough to irrigate all the crops.

We learned to pray for rain—we always prayed for rain.

When I was still very small, I knew that plants could not survive in dry country more than about two or three weeks without water. I knew how to harness up the old mare to a lizard (a forked log on which a barrel was placed) and I drove the animal to the Union Canal, which was a block below our home. With a bucket I scooped up water from the small stream or the puddles and filled the barrel, and the horse dragged it back so I could pour bucketsful of precious liquid on the roses, the violets, and other flowers, and the small shrubs and hedges and new trees. Water was like liquid gold, so reservoirs became an important part of my life.

Recently, in fact last spring at the end of the school year, there was a high school graduation in a community here in the West. Several appropriate parties were planned for the graduates. However, there was one party that sort of sneaked into the lineup that was wrong. It was bad. In this case several shows of an immoral nature had been planned at a local residence. Not knowing beforehand the nature of the movies, a group of unsuspecting Latter-day Saint young people went to the home for the party. As soon as the film started to run and its vulgar message came to the screen, part of the Latter-day Saint young people got up and left, while others of the same group stayed in the home.

When outside, the few who were leaving met some of their friends just arriving. They told them of the nature of the show and recommended that they not go in. Part of this group then turned and left also; however, a few of the weak went into the home, there to have their minds saturated and polluted by the power of Satan. Yes, there are those who will do whatever they need to do to be right with the Lord, to do right. There are those who really believe that holding the priesthood is special, important, something really worth honoring.

As a very young boy, I was intrigued with oil paintings. I spent many hours not only enjoying, but carefully examining the brush strokes still visible in the hardened paint. I was especially fascinated with the way the colors were mixed and placed one beside another.
It was exciting. Finally, upon growing older, I could restrain myself no longer. I just had to try it!
I obtained a few supplies, and then one night, after all the rest of the family was sound asleep, I ventured to paint.
My first attempt was to copy a painting of a beautiful landscape. Carefully I painted the sky—all of it—in all its detail. I even tried to make my brush strokes look like the ones I saw on the original. When the sky was finished, I painted that magnificent mountain; every stroke of it! Then, the trees—one at a time, of course; and then, the lake. On and on, I moved downward until finally that final blade of grass was placed in the only small white space remaining at the very bottom of the canvas.
Nothing could have kept me from awaking my father and mother to show them the “masterpiece.”
Actually, considering all that I had not yet learned, the painting was not too bad. At that stage in my development, I didn’t notice that the colors reflected by the lake were not very consistent with the colors from which those reflections came, or that perspective lines and size relationships were terribly distorted.
It was not until I enrolled in college art classes that I came to realize that great artists do not produce a finished product by starting at the top of the canvas and by moving systematically to the bottom. Instead, they clearly envision the entire image they wish to portray and then proceed to develop all parts of that image somewhat simultaneously.
By adding one line here and another there, and by applying paint, here a little and there a little, a balanced and coordinated composition finally emerges into reality.

When I was getting married, Maria, a close family member of mine, visited me. Maria had previously decided to leave the Church to pursue a relationship with another woman. I don’t agree with all her choices, but I love Maria and respect her agency, so I have tried to maintain a good relationship with her.
When Maria and Kristen visited, I had the opportunity to give them both priesthood blessings, as they were seeking guidance through some struggles in their lives. The Savior often responded to the faith of those who were outside of the covenant or who weren’t keeping His commandments (see Matthew 8:5–13; Mark 7:24–30; Luke 7:36–50). So even though I wasn’t sure of what I was going to say, I dressed up and prepared to let God’s power flow through me.
During the blessings, I felt prompted to share specific counsel with both Maria and Kristen and to make certain promises. I’ll never forget the strong Spirit we all felt. I believe it changed all of us for the better.
Because of our love for each other, I can share my feelings about the gospel with Maria in a way that she may not welcome from others. Love qualifies us to do His work by opening doors to share His gospel and by inviting His help into our efforts (see Doctrine and Covenants 4:5). In perfect love, the Savior shared truths with the woman at the well, even though she had sinned and was a Samaritan (see John 4). She felt the love and truths He shared with her and was forever changed by His message.
And even if our invitations to live the gospel aren’t accepted, sharing the love of God with others can still make a lasting difference in their lives.

Sighing, I let the pen slip idly from my fingers as my head collapsed onto the desk in front of me. “I can’t do this any more,” I groaned.
I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 8:45 P.M. I had wanted to be in bed by 9:30. Looking back at the math exercises I had been working on, my eyes filled with tears. I was so tired. My head was pounding, and my whole body was aching, but sleep seemed unlikely tonight. The math would take me at least another hour to finish; then I had to learn my lines for tomorrow’s drama rehearsal. My English assignment was due in two days, and I hadn’t started it yet. On top of that, my piano lesson was the next day, and Mrs. Doolan was bound to be unimpressed with the limited practice I’d managed to fit in this week.
“Tammy?” The small voice roused me from my thoughts, and I turned, exasperated, towards the door.
“Ben,” I whined at my brother, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”
The six-year-old scurried happily across the room and onto my lap. “I’m not tired,” he answered simply.
Smiling, I put my arms around him and gave him a hug. It was impossible to stay angry with him for long.
“Read me a story, Tammy,” he pleaded.
“Ben,” I began, “I’d really like to, but I just can’t tonight.” I launched into a detailed account of the pressures I was under. Noting his disappointment, my excuses trailed off, and I began to feel guilty. My eyes fell on the scriptures, where they lay on the bedroom floor.
There’s another thing I have to do tonight, I thought, feeling discouraged.
Suddenly I had an idea. I’d shoot both birds with one stone! Putting Ben down on the floor, I reached for the Book of Mormon.
“You like scripture stories don’t you, Ben?” I asked. Nodding happily he settled down to listen. The seminary reading assignment was Third Nephi chapter 17, and I turned to the page quickly and began to read: “Behold, now it came to pass that when Jesus had spoken these words he looked round about again on the multitude, and …”
“Tammy, what’s a multitude?” Ben interrupted.
“It’s just a large group of people,” I answered hastily and then continued: “and he said unto them: Behold my time is at hand.”
“Tammy, what does that mean?” I groaned inwardly. This was going to take a lot longer than I had planned on.
I read on for about half an hour, in which time I had read about one page. Ben wanted to know and understand everything I was reading. Jesus directing the Nephites? Jesus healing the sick? Language that couldn’t be written? Everything fascinated him. But not me. I was simply anxious to get through the chapter, send him back to bed, and return to my mountain of homework.
“And when he had said these words,” I continued, “he wept, and the multitude bare record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.
“And when he had done this he wept again;
“And he spake unto the multitude, and said unto them: Behold your little ones.
“And as they looked to behold they cast their eyes towards heaven, and they saw the heavens open, and they saw angels descending out of heaven as it were in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them.”
Pausing for a breath, I suddenly realized that I had just read four verses without being interrupted once!
Puzzled I looked down at Ben and was surprised to see that there were tears streaming down his small face. My eyes met his as I searched for an explanation.
“Tammy,” he said softly, “I wish I could have been there.”
Suddenly I felt my eyes stinging with tears, and I was filled with shame. “So do I, Ben,” I whispered.
My homework, drama rehearsal, and piano practice paled in significance as I realized that it was my attitude towards spiritual matters that needed attention. I reached for the sweet little brother who had reminded me of what was really important and vowed to be better.

It had been a long, hard day. First the youth from the Ephraim Utah Stake had cleaned up an old cemetery. Then they had a picnic lunch and a water fight. Now they were on a two-mile hike to find the campground where they’d spend the night. Was there really time to stop and help the woman and children whose car had broken down on the side of the road?
There had better be. The people in the broken down car were part of the youth conference, put there to see if the youth were really learning their lessons. They were. Every group that came by offered to help.
The service-oriented youth conference also found the youth reseeding the ground cover, cleaning up trash, and making new trails in the area of a popular campground. Their service never stopped.

My friend Donna grew up desiring to marry and raise a large family. But that blessing never came. Instead she spent her adult years serving the people in her ward with unmeasured compassion and counseling disturbed children in a large school district. She had crippling arthritis and many long, blue days. Yet she always lifted and was always lifted by her friends and family. Once when teaching about Lehi’s dream, she said with gentle humor, “I’d put myself in that picture on the strait and narrow path, still holding to the iron rod but collapsed from fatigue right on the path.” In an inspired blessing given just before her death, Donna’s home teacher said the Lord “accepted” her. Donna cried. She had never felt her single life was acceptable. But the Lord said those who “observe their covenants by sacrifice … are accepted of me.” I can envision Him walking the path from the tree of life to lift Donna up with gladness and carry her home.

Last general conference, I was called by President Monson to be the new Young Women general president. As I stood in the presence of a prophet of God and was given this sacred trust, I pledged that I would serve with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. Prior to this calling, I had a small plate inscribed with a motto that read, “I can do hard things.” That little plate bearing that simple motto gave me courage. But now if I could change that motto, it would read: “In the strength of the Lord, I can do all things.” It is on that strength that I rely today as I stand at this sacred pulpit.
Last April, two days after general conference, we held our first meeting as a newly sustained presidency. We hiked to the top of Ensign Peak, and as we looked on the valley below, we saw the temple with the angel Moroni shining in the sun. For each of us, it was clear. The vision for our presidency was the temple. And our responsibility was also clear. We must “help prepare each young woman to be worthy to make and keep sacred covenants and receive the ordinances of the temple.”
The temple is the reason for everything we do in the Church. The temple was the reason our pioneer ancestors left their established homes and came west. It was the reason they suffered privation and even death. Temple covenants were the reason that, although babies were buried along the way, those pioneers could sing:
Come, come, ye Saints,
No toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Some lost everything but came into the valley with everything, really—temple ordinances, sacred covenants, and the promise of eternal life together as families.
Just two days after the Saints arrived in the Salt Lake Valley, Brigham Young and his associates hiked Ensign Peak. Atop that peak they unfurled a banner—a yellow bandana tied to a walking stick, which symbolized an ensign or standard to the nations. The Saints were to be the light, the standard. Last April, atop Ensign Peak, we three women also unfurled a banner which we made from a walking stick and a gold Peruvian shawl. It was our ensign, our standard to the nations—our banner calling for a return to virtue.
Virtue is a prerequisite to entering the Lord’s holy temples and to receiving the Spirit’s guidance. Virtue “is a pattern of thought and behavior based on high moral standards.” It encompasses chastity and moral purity. Virtue begins in the heart and in the mind. It is nurtured in the home. It is the accumulation of thousands of small decisions and actions. Virtue is a word we don’t hear often in today’s society, but the Latin root word virtus means strength. Virtuous women and men possess a quiet dignity and inner strength. They are confident because they are worthy to receive and be guided by the Holy Ghost. President Monson has counseled: “You be the one to make a stand for right, even if you stand alone. Have the moral courage to be a light for others to follow. There is no friendship more valuable than your own clear conscience, your own moral cleanliness—and what a glorious feeling it is to know that you stand in your appointed place clean and with the confidence that you are worthy to do so.”
Could it be that we have been slowly desensitized into thinking that high moral standards are old-fashioned and not relevant or important in today’s society? As Elder Hales has just reminded us, Lehonti in the Book of Mormon was well positioned on the top of a mountain. He and those he led were “fixed in their minds with a determined resolution” that they would not come down from the mount. It only took the deceitful Amalickiah four tries, each one more bold than the previous, to get Lehonti to “come down off from the mount.” And then having embraced Amalickiah’s false promises, Lehonti was “poison[ed] by degrees” until he died. Not just poisoned, but “by degrees.” Could it be that this may be happening today? Could it be that first we tolerate, then accept, and eventually embrace the vice that surrounds us? Could it be that we have been deceived by false role models and persuasive media messages that cause us to forget our divine identity? Are we too being poisoned by degrees? What could be more deceptive than to entice the youth of this noble generation to do nothing or to be busy ever-texting but never coming to a knowledge of the truths contained in a book that was written for you and your day by prophets of God—the Book of Mormon? What could be more deceptive than to entice women, young and old, you and me, to be so involved in ourselves, our looks, our clothes, our body shape and size that we lose sight of our divine identity and our ability to change the world through our virtuous influence? What could be more deceptive than to entice men—young and old, holding the holy priesthood of God—to view seductive pornography and thus focus on flesh instead of faith, to be consumers of vice rather than guardians of virtue? The Book of Mormon relates the story of 2,000 young heroes whose virtue and purity gave them the strength to defend their parents’ covenants and their family’s faith. Their virtue and commitment to be “true at all times” changed the world!
I truly believe that one virtuous young woman or young man, led by the Spirit, can change the world, but in order to do so, we must return to virtue. We must engage in strict training. As the marathon runner Juma Ikangaa said after winning the New York Marathon, “The will to win is nothing without the will to prepare.” Now is the time to prepare by exercising more self-discipline. Now is the time to become “more fit for the kingdom.” Now is the time to set our course and focus on the finish. A return to virtue must begin individually in our hearts and in our homes.
What can each of us do to begin our return to virtue? The course and the training program will be unique to each of us. I have derived my personal training program from instructions found in the scriptures: “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly.” “Cleave unto [your] covenants.” “Stand … in holy places.” “Lay aside the things of [the] world.” “Believe that ye must repent.” “Always remember him and keep his commandments.” And “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, … seek after these things.” Now more than ever before, it is time to respond to Moroni’s call to “awake, and arise” and to “lay hold upon every good gift, and touch not the evil gift, nor the unclean thing.”
Recently I attended the blessing of our newest granddaughter. It was a holy sight to me as my husband and our sons, along with many other loved ones, encircled this little infant. She was so elegant all dressed in white—and it didn’t hurt a bit that she was named after her two grandmothers! But the thing that touched me most was the blessing given by her father, our son Zach. He blessed little Annabel Elaine that she would understand her identity as a daughter of God, that she would follow the examples of her mother, grandmothers, and sister, and that she would find great joy as she lived a virtuous life and prepared to make and keep sacred temple covenants. In that sacred moment, I prayed that every young woman might be encircled, strengthened, and protected by righteous priesthood power, not only at the time of birth and blessing but throughout life.
During the solemn assembly last conference when President Uchtdorf called for the sustaining of our new prophet and First Presidency, I watched the entire congregation of priesthood brethren arise and stand. I felt your strength and your priesthood power. You are the guardians of virtue. Then I was overcome with emotion when he said, “Will the young women please arise?” From my seat, I saw all of you arise and stand together. Today there could be no more powerful force for virtue in the world. You must never underestimate the power of your righteous influence.

The Young Women camp had a similar effect. Twelve young women met with their leaders near the ancient battle site of Marathon. They spent three days together, learning to rely on each other for strength and encouragement.

“When I was 12,” says Loukia, “I went to church for the first time and was so happy, but then I realized that I was the only one my age. Now, two years later, we have so many young women that for the first time we were able to have Young Women camp.” As they met together, she says, “I realized what it means to be a Latter-day Saint. When we live the gospel, a light surrounds us.”