Gospel Story Finder

I was recently in Canada, where I visited, among other cities, the city of Regina. There we were hosted by President D. Lawrence Penner, president of the Saskatoon Saskatchewan Stake. He is a wonderful man, an excellent executive. When he was 20 years of age, he was baptized. It was a huge step for him. He had been referred to the missionaries by members of the Church. They immediately looked him up. They talked to him. They taught him. They baptized him. They encouraged him, as did his local Church officers. He was ordained to the Priesthood. He was given things to do. A year later, he was called on a mission and served in Japan. He returned the stronger for that experience. With the encouragement of many people who have helped him along the way, he today stands as the presiding high priest of this great stake of Zion. He is the husband and father of a good family, all of whom are active. He is an example of the kind of man who should be coming into the Church as a convert and remaining to become a leader.

At the end-of-the-year basketball banquet, Frankie, Mark, and Jason, seized another opportunity to share their religion. They presented their coach with a gift, a Book of Mormon.
“We hope you’ll hold on to this book like you would hold on to a basketball,” read the inscription from the three boys.
The coach did more than that. Not only did he hold on to the book; he read it and believed it. Not long after he received his gift, he and his family were baptized.

My husband and I are serving a live-at-home mission in a tiny branch in Tuskegee, Alabama. Another wonderful young family has also been called to serve there. They have two Primary-age children—Matthew (9) and his brother Marcus (4). They travel about an hour every Sunday and Wednesday to help strengthen the branch. The father of the family is a counselor in the branch presidency, and each Sunday they all arrive at 8:00 a.m. so he can attend his presidency meeting. They stay until the tithes and offerings have been counted and recorded around 2:00 p.m. It is a very full day for the children, but they are happy and well-behaved. Before and after meetings they read scriptures with their mom and older sister or talk quietly. Often they are the only two children in Primary, where they say the prayers almost every week. On Wednesday evenings they help clean and vacuum the building or empty garbage while their mom teaches Mutual. They both plan to serve full-time missions when they are old enough.

My dad is not a member of the Church. Since my mom, brothers and sisters, and I are all active in the Church, we are sometimes at odds with him. There was a time in my life when my father and I just couldn’t seem to get along because he was unkind about my beliefs and I was angry at him for not agreeing with me.
In an effort to smooth things over between us, my mom tried to help me see things through Dad’s eyes. “How would a person without the gospel see this situation?” she asked me gently.
Since that time, I have thought a lot about what she said. I have tried to be more patient and forgiving, and I am trying to improve my relationship with my father.
It has helped me to know that Heavenly Father will not give me anything I can’t handle. It has also helped me to know that my earthly father loves me, even though we may not always agree.
I still pray for my father to join the Church, but he now knows that I love and respect him no matter what.

I recall that he lent to young men on different occasions the money necessary to meet their expenses in their study of medicine. He, of course, charged no interest for such loans, which were ultimately paid. At various times when I have met these men since the completion of their studies and their entrance into the field of medicine, they have wept with appreciation for the help thus extended to them, without which it would not have been possible for them to accomplish their ambitions.

I am fortunate to have had good women in my life: a nurturing and courageous mother, wise and faithful sisters, and a loving and supportive wife. I wish to honor one of these influential women, my older sister, Thelma, for her impact in my life through her continuous good example.
When I was young, my father taught me to follow Thelma’s lead when he and my mom were not around, and I am eternally grateful for this counsel.
Three of my eight siblings joined the Church in El Salvador the same time I did. Thelma was 14 years old and my oldest sibling when we got baptized. I was 8 years old at the time and the youngest of the family, so she was our leader.
We were introduced to the Church by our neighbor who sang songs that we later learned were hymns. Our neighbor told us about a wonderful place called Primary, where children learned to sing. The missionaries were contacted, and they started visiting our home to teach us.
However, my dad had strong feelings against the Church and about his children being taught by the missionaries. Being a small boy, I never understood what those two elders went through to bring the gospel into our lives. Dad would kick them out if he found them at our home, and he would deliberately turn off the lights if the elders stopped by in the evening. Just as my dad was relentless in trying to stop the missionaries from teaching, Thelma was twice as determined to learn about the gospel and read the Book of Mormon. Thelma and the elders never gave up, and for this I am thankful.
Going to church was a struggle because Dad tried to stop us by using a variety of tactics, such as requiring that we do chores before we could leave for church.
One Sunday morning was particularly hard. He did not want to let us go, but we refused to be stopped. He kicked a garbage can and spilled its contents all over the floor we had just cleaned. Thelma quietly began picking up the garbage without complaining. After she had cleaned the floor again, she asked if we could go to church. We had finished all the chores and more, but he still did not want to give his permission. Finally he asked pointedly, “Why do you insist on going to this church anyway?” Thelma then bore a powerful testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and of the message of the Restoration of the gospel. As she concluded, my dad waved his hand and gave his permission.
Dad never tried to stop us again after this incident and eventually, even though he did not like it, gave his consent for us to join the Church.
I had no problem attending church on Sunday, but I was not as enthusiastic about attending Primary because it was on Saturday morning at that time. When I was 10, Thelma came home one Saturday and told my other siblings about a great soccer game between the deacons and the Blazers (11-year-old Scouts). She pointed out how unfortunate it was that I had missed the game because I had not attended Primary. Needless to say, I went the following Saturday (with my soccer cleats on) and never missed it again.
When Thelma was 16, she was called to be the Primary president. Our bishop had been trying to find someone to handle the many challenges the Primary organization was facing. The ward covered a large area, and it was difficult and expensive for many families with small children to travel by bus to the church both on Saturdays for Primary and on Sundays. Many of those children were not attending Primary, and no solution had been found. The bishop had been prompted to call Thelma but could not bring himself to do it because she was so young. The prompting continued, and after receiving approval from the stake president, the bishop extended the call to my sister.
This proved to be an inspired decision, and it blessed many children—including me. Thelma magnified her calling by following inspiration, using common sense, and implementing innovative ideas to develop training programs to bring the gospel to the children. She asked her counselors and teachers to hold Primary meetings at several places closer to their homes, and she provided ongoing training for those teachers. This solution allowed members to save time and money and enabled children who were previously not attending Primary to receive the blessings of this wonderful organization.
My siblings and I continued to follow Thelma’s lead as time progressed. We held family home evenings and attended all of our Church meetings. Shortly after I was ordained a deacon, Thelma turned to me during one family home evening and recognized me as the priesthood holder in the family. This event taught me a valuable lesson about respect for the priesthood.
She also made sure I never lacked the proper encouragement and extra incentive to attend my priesthood meetings or to fulfill my responsibilities. For instance, Thelma used every noisy and energetic way to get me out of bed on Sunday mornings so I could attend priesthood meeting. She also taught me to look forward to my advancements in the Aaronic Priesthood.
At Mutual and seminary I didn’t mind that I was always known as “Thelma’s brother.” Some of my friends had the support of their parents in the Church, but I had my bishop, Young Men leaders, and Thelma.
Thelma continued to be an example to me as she held a variety of callings until she left for her mission. She served honorably in the Guatemala Quetzaltenango Mission, and the fruits of her labors included the baptism of our mother two days after Thelma returned home. Our joy was full as I, then a priest, performed this sacred ordinance. Following Thelma’s example, I began to earnestly prepare to serve a mission.

Years ago, when my father was in the evening of his days on this earth, I encountered him reading his patriarchal blessing. He marveled that the old patriarch, John Smith, in the Sugarhouse Ward eighty years before, could have told him in outline what had come to pass in his life. “Everything has been fulfilled in my blessing,” he said, “except one thing.”

“What is that?” I asked.

He replied, “My blessing said that if I sought the will of the Lord I should preside over a stake in Zion.”

I said, “Did the patriarch make a mistake, Dad?”

“No,” he said abruptly. “The General Authorities called me to serve, but I’d just returned from a three-year mission to England. I was an older man. I had a large family that had worked to keep me there. My business partner, O. S. Stapley, had carried the burdens of our business, so I told the Authorities to let me get on my feet financially, and then I would be glad to serve, but I was never called again.”

There was no further comment, but I sensed without any moralizing on my father’s part that he wanted me to hear this story and draw my own conclusions.

For most of my life I felt an emptiness and longed for something solid to cling to. I suspected that what I was looking for might be found in a church, so from the time I was very young, I investigated a number of religions and philosophies. Many of them were good and filled with good people. Some of them were strange and offered nothing like what I was seeking.
After many years of searching, I became bored and discouraged, so I gave up. I determined to build a relationship with God on my own and stay away from organized religion.
Sometime after I had come to this decision, I was watching a television program that focused on spirituality. The program’s host was interviewing a Latter-day Saint family. As I listened to this family, I felt the love and solid faith that I had long been looking for. I was also impressed to learn that Latter-day Saints highly emphasize the family. Maybe I would investigate just one more church.
On the bottom of the television screen was a phone number for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Milan area. I called it and spoke with some members at the stake center, who arranged for the missionaries to call me.
This was a particularly busy time for me, so when the missionaries called to set up an appointment, I asked if I could call them back in a few weeks after things had settled down. They agreed and gave me the phone number of the local Relief Society president, who called and invited me to attend church on Sunday. I went, and I loved everything there: the lessons, the people, and the spirit. I left feeling very happy.
I went to church every Sunday for the next two months. Then, in October 2008, I was baptized. My search had not just ended; it had been completed. I no longer felt the thirst and the longing I once did.
I am immensely grateful to have found the truth, but in some ways I am sad that it took me so long to find the gospel of Jesus Christ. Nevertheless, I am grateful for the experiences I had during my search. Because I looked in so many other places, I feel extra content knowing that I’ve found the right place—the place where I belong.

After Brian returned home from the hospital, our family was discussing his numerous medical bills and our gratitude for highly trained medical professionals. Brian said, "I bet the bill from the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit will be high because they have to pay that one guy a lot for staying in my room the entire time." We asked if he was referring to a nurse. He said, "No, this guy wasn't a nurse. In fact, the other nurses never acknowledged him or looked at him when they came in. This guy just sat on the floor next to my bed writing things down the whole time." We told him no one was there. Brian was adamant this man stayed the entire time and even described him to us. Now it is important to note, Brian had his eyes closed most of the time he was in the PICU because they were swollen and hurt to open, plus he was only allowed to have his parents as visitors. We truly felt Brian had an angel with him during his time there that helped protect, strengthen, and comfort him during the traumatic post-brain-surgery pain and recovery.

My name is Eric, and I love to play basketball. According to Eddy, our team’s student manager, I’m the fifth grader most likely to make a shot. Mom says I play so well because I play so often. “Practice makes perfect,” she says. Today I discovered that I could use some practice at something besides basketball. …
At lunch, my friend Kurt and I were walking toward our usual table, when I saw Trevor sitting alone, picking green pepper bits off his pizza. All of a sudden, I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t entirely because of green peppers.
Trevor is a boy who comes to our ward sometimes. Yesterday Sister McQueiry, my Primary teacher, asked me to stay after class. She told me that the ward had set a goal to reach out to less-active members and that she needed my help. She knew that Trevor went to my school, and she asked me to invite him to Primary. I told her I would. When I saw Trevor, I knew I should talk to him right away, but I didn’t want to.
I mean, what would he think if I walked over there and just started talking? What would everyone else think? If he were an OK guy, why wasn’t anybody else sitting by him? Besides, this was only Monday, and I had all week to ask him to Primary. So I sat with Kurt at our usual table.
I must’ve felt a little guilty, though, because I ate my pizza, salad, corn, and chocolate cake a lot more slowly than usual. After about fifteen minutes, everyone else was out on the playground, but I was still eating my slice of pizza. The lunchroom was practically empty—except for Trevor and me.
I finally went over and sat by him. He was really quiet at first, but when I asked him about Boston, where his family had moved from, he started talking. I was so busy listening to him that I missed the entire lunch recess, and I barely remembered to ask him to church the next Sunday. I felt relieved to have my “Trevor assignment” over with.
I rushed home and played about ten games of one-on-one with Kurt before dinner. At family home evening, my sister, Kim, gave the lesson. It was all about the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25:31–46 [Matt. 25:31–46]. It compares the sheep to righteous people and the goats to wicked people. In verses 33–38 and 40, it says: “And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.
“Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you …
“For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
“Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.
“Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?
“When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? …
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, … Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”
As I listened to the parable, I thought about Trevor eating lunch all alone. Then I thought about Jesus. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Was I really ignoring Jesus when I ignored Trevor?
Kim ended her lesson, and Dad asked if anybody had any questions. I raised my hand.
“Eric?” asked Dad, a little surprised.
“I just wanted to know,” I started, not sure how to ask my question, “if you do something good, but it takes you a while to do it and you really didn’t want to do it, but you did it anyway, would you be a sheep or a goat?”
Dad gave me a look of real concern. “What are you talking about?” he finally asked. And so I told him about Trevor.
“It sounds to me as if you knew the right thing to do and you did it.” I felt relieved to hear Dad’s answer. “But,” he added, “your attitude could use a little work.”
“You’re a sheep,” Kim decided. “Pretty much, anyway.”
“Today you were kind because you knew it was right,” Mom added. “In time, I hope you will help others because you love them as Jesus does. But it will take time and practice.”
I wonder if you can be willing to practice love and service like you’re willing to practice basketball. I wonder if you can practice them while you practice basketball. I’ve decided to have lunch with Trevor tomorrow. He seems interesting. Besides, Trevor is even taller than I am. I wonder if he can hit the outside jumper.

After World War II, my mother and father settled for a time in South Africa. My father was a seaman and the shipping company he worked for was based in South Africa and sailed the world. My parents had two very young children at the time and while my father was a world away from home on one trip, their younger child, Gillian, fell ill. She was less than a year old and sadly passed away during emergency surgery.
My mother was devastated. She was not only without the support of her husband, but also, because they were still not well established in South Africa, she had no extended family or even close friends to turn to. Fortunately, around the same time, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had recently knocked on her door and had been teaching her the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful for those missionaries.
They taught my mother that “little children are alive in Christ, even from the foundation of the world” (Moroni 8:12).
Something we never knew until we read about it in her diary decades later, is that in the days after the loss of her child, the mission president sent his car with a driver to take my mother to all the places she needed to go and to attend to all the matters that arose, including arrangements for a funeral. I am so grateful for that mission president.
His act of kindness to someone whom the missionaries were merely teaching has had long lasting effects unknown to him.

It wasn’t enough for Manila, Philippines, institute students to just learn the word—they wanted to go out and share it. So they put together a musical show, emphasizing the scriptures and education, that was designed to help parents and youth apply gospel principles in their lives.
The students gave up their summer free time to rehearse and perform, but said it was worth it to see the audience reaction—some were touched to tears. The group toured Metro Manila and the nearby provinces with their variety show. “All our efforts have been paid off by the wonderful feelings we’ve had,” said one participant.

I had often asked myself whether my life had a purpose, but now this question was very serious to me. Although I was only 22, my legs had suddenly become extremely weak. “Perhaps they have just grown tired from dancing in the local discos,” I thought. “Maybe they have gone on strike.”
I went to a doctor, who thought I had a muscle disease and immediately sent me to a clinic. Thus began a period of going from clinic to clinic throughout my native Germany. I underwent many tests, but none of them showed any problem. Still I was in severe pain and had no strength. It was almost unbearable. Because the tests were all negative, everyone thought I must be pretending. I felt alone and could find no purpose in life, although I longed for one.
About this time I was sent to a clinic in Koblenz, Germany. When I arrived I met a young woman about my age who seemed different from the other patients. She seemed to have a positive attitude about her life, even though she was seriously ill. I saw her in the hall one Sunday. She was wearing a Sunday dress, and I asked her why she was so dressed up. She answered, “I was at church.”
I had not had any interest in religion for a long time. Although I had been raised in a Protestant faith, I felt religion was a lot of empty talk. I knew there was a God, but I didn’t think much of organized religion here on earth.
“Church?” I said, swallowing hard. Then I asked her which church she belonged to.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” she answered. I blanched. “What was that? A strange sect?” I wondered. I asked her many questions about her church. Even though she had been through a great deal, she did not doubt. She prayed to and trusted in her Heavenly Father. That fascinated and frightened me at the same time.
My new friend gave me a Book of Mormon, and I began reading it. The missionaries in Koblenz soon taught me the first discussion. Then because of an illness I contracted, I was transferred to a different clinic. My friend visited me often. I had the Book of Mormon with me, and I continued to read. I had learned a great deal about life, and for the first time I had found a true friend.
On a leave from the clinic, I visited my friend and her family in Solingen. They were the dearest people I had ever met, and on Sunday I attended church with them. When I returned to the clinic, I could not stop thinking about the Church. I had known there was something true about the Book of Mormon, but now everything became much clearer. One thought was on my mind: “Should I join the Church?”
When I was finally released from the clinic, I returned to my home in Fulda. Then I received another invitation to visit my new friends in Solingen and was welcomed even more heartily than before. I learned more about the gospel and decided to be baptized. When I returned home I found the missionaries in my area, and they taught me the remaining discussions in Fulda. I had finally found my purpose in life, and I was baptized.
I thank my Heavenly Father with all my heart for helping me find His gospel and Church. My legs are back to normal now. The doctors never found out what caused the pain, but if I had not become sick, I would still be searching for purpose in my life. What a loving Father! He doesn’t give up on anyone.
I used to wonder what I was supposed to learn from my illness. Now I know.

Brother and Sister Alip are grateful for the ways Heavenly Father has blessed them to have what they need to continue serving others. When they first came to Kona, Brother Alip says, “We had no place to stay except for a small shack in the hills built for a worker in the coffee fields.” They lived there for months until they were able to rent a small cottage.
A number of years later, they had enough savings and income to consider a nicer home, but nothing they looked at felt right to them. One day while Brother Alip was working on the Kona temple grounds, an elderly sister came by. She was crying. Brother Alip shakes his head. “She was being evicted from her home and had no place to go. For some reason, I told her to go visit her grandchildren, and when she returned, she could move in with us.” The problem was, the Alips’ home was big enough for only Brother and Sister Alip. So they started praying—and looking earnestly for ways to obtain the blessing they sought.
Shortly, a real-estate agent invited them to consider a two-story home with six bedrooms. They loved it, but they assumed the house would cost more than they could afford. Reluctantly, they turned the offer down.
But a way opened up. Within a few weeks, the price of the home dropped, and the Alips learned they had sufficient credit to buy the house. As a result, the sister in need had a place with Brother and Sister Alip when she returned to Kona, and three of the Alips’ children, in need themselves, found a home for their families at the house.
“The Lord has taken good care of us,” Brother Alip says. “When we show that we are willing to sacrifice our time, talents, and means for Him, He showers us with His tender mercies.”

Topsy Turvey Turtle was crawling slowly down the path. He looked at the big black pot over the fire. “Whose stew?” he asked.
“Mine,” answered Rimsey Rabbit. “I wouldn’t call it stew yet, though. So far it’s only water.”
“I have some potatoes we could add to it,” offered Topsy Turvey Turtle.
“Thank you.”
Topsy Turvey Turtle and Rimsey Rabbit chopped up the potatoes and added them to the boiling water. As they sat down to wait for the potatoes to cook, Missy Mouse scurried towards them.
“Whose stew?” she asked.
“Ours,” answered Rimsey Rabbit. “I brought the pot and the water, and Topsy Turvey Turtle added the potatoes.”
“Well, I have been to the market to buy these lovely white gloves, and while I was there, I bought some fresh, crisp carrots. Shall I add them to your stew?”
“Oh, yes, please!” said Rimsey Rabbit. “I love carrots.”
After Missy Mouse added the carrots to the stew pot, the three sat down to visit. While they were chatting, Sweetie Skunk waddled down the path.
“Whose stew?” she asked.
“Ours,” answered Rimsey Rabbit. “I brought the pot and the water, Topsy Turvey Turtle added the potatoes, and Missy Mouse donated the carrots.”
“Oh, but you need some seasoning.” Sweetie Skunk took a packet of salt and a packet of pepper out of her pretty sequin purse and added them to the stew. As she was putting the lid back on the pot, Belushy Bear lumbered out of the woods.
“Whose stew?” he asked.
“Ours,” answered Rimsey Rabbit. “I brought the pot and the water, Topsy Turvey Turtle added the potatoes, Missy Mouse donated the carrots, and Sweetie Skunk put in the salt and pepper.”
“You need an onion for stew,” Belushy Bear boomed in his deep voice. “May I add an onion to your stew?”
“Of course,” replied Rimsey Rabbit.
So Belushy Bear pulled an onion out of his backpack and added it to the stew. Not long afterward, Polly Pig sniffed and snuffled her way into the clearing.
“Whose stew?” she asked.
“Ours,” answered Rimsey Rabbit. “I brought the pot and the water, Topsy Turvey Turtle added the potatoes, Missy Mouse donated the carrots, Sweetie Skunk put in the salt and pepper, and Belushy Bear brought the onion.”
“Sounds very tasty, but you need some green beans and peas for your stew. I have some that I could add, if I may,” suggested Polly Pig.
“Beans and peas are very tasty,” said Topsy Turvey Turtle.
“Yes,” everyone agreed. “Please add them to the stew.”
Polly Pig carefully flung her feather boa (scarf) over her shoulder so it wouldn’t get into the stew, then tossed the beans and peas into the pot.
By this time there was such a gathering that it had become a party. Topsy Turvey Turtle played his flute, and they all began to dance. Everyone was laughing and talking so loudly that Hilary Hen had to shout to get anyone to notice her.
“Whose stew?” she hollered.
“Ours!” everyone shouted over the music. Topsy Turvey Turtle stopped playing so that Rimsey Rabbit could explain who had brought what. When he finished, Hilary Hen looked into the pot.
“Would you like some flour to thicken your stew?” she asked. “I have some that I would be happy to donate.”
“Yes, please,” everyone else agreed.
Hilary Hen added the flour to the stew very carefully so that she wouldn’t get her newly polished shoes all dusty.
“I think it’s finally stew,” said Rimsey Rabbit, peering into the pot.
Everyone crowded around. The clearing filled with hungry murmurs of “It certainly looks like stew” and “It smells like stew.”
Rimsey Rabbit dished up steaming bowls of it for everyone, they sat down at the table, and he said a blessing. Then, just as they were about to start eating, they noticed Ragamuffin Raccoon watching them from the edge of the clearing. His clothes were torn and worn but very clean. He looked hungry. “Whose stew?” he asked.
“Ours,” answered Rimsey Rabbit. “I brought the pot and the water, Topsy Turvey Turtle added the potatoes, Missy Mouse donated the carrots, Sweetie Skunk put in the salt and pepper, Belushy Bear brought the onion, Polly Pig added the green beans and peas, and Hilary Hen donated the flour to thicken it.”
“Oh,” said Ragamuffin Raccoon sadly. “I don’t have anything for your stew.” He started back into the forest.
“Wait!” cried Rimsey Rabbit.
“Yes, wait!” shouted Hilary Hen.
“We don’t have a guest,” suggested Belushy Bear.
“And we need a guest,” agreed Sweetie Skunk.
“Will you be our guest?” asked Polly Pig.
“You can sit between us,” invited Topsy Turvey Turtle and Missy Mouse, making room for him.
Rimsey Rabbit served up a delicious bowl of the savory stew for Ragamuffin Raccoon, and he joined them at the table. The stew and the company were so good that everyone had second helpings.

Kristen M. Oaks:
It is so good to be here with my husband. We love BYU–Idaho. Our grandson attended here, met his wife here, married here, and loved every minute of his time here. For many reasons this campus is especially precious to us.
Elder Oaks has been sharing his wisdom with you.
Did you know there is a distinct difference in the dictionary definitions of wise and wisdom? To be wise is defined as “judging properly as to what is true and right.” Wisdom is “the knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action.”
When we use wisdom, we act and apply the information we know to be true. It is not enough for us to know the difference between right and wrong; we must choose right over wrong. Elder Bruce R. McConkie also admonished us that it is “our obligation not only to believe, but to conform our lives to what we believe.”[21]
Always remember your identity: You are not mortal beings having spiritual experiences, but spiritual beings having mortal experiences.
It is very significant to me that the first words Elder Oaks taught in the Philippines, where he was sent to help establish the Church, were from Mosiah 10:4: “Now if you believe these things, see that ye do them.” That was a call to action. It is not enough to believe even to believe with all our hearts. The Lord would have us act on our beliefs.
There is a promise connected to this scripture in the following verse: If we repent and remember the greatness of God, we “shall always rejoice and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a remission of [our] sins and [we] shall grow in the . . . knowledge of that which is just and true.”[22]
I want to testify of this in all aspects of my life. When I read the scriptures, the wise and pure words touch my soul and I know of their truth, and the more I read, the more I know for a surety.
Also, I know that when we practice the precepts we know we improve. When we first married, I was working as a consultant for a publishing house based in Boston¾I never cooked except once a year. Poor Elder Oaks. The first few months we were married I burned everything, even grilled cheese sandwiches. I knew very little about housework; I didn’t even know how to match socks. Elder Oaks wears only two colors¾black and blue. I called my married sister in tears and asked how to sort them and she told me to go stand by the window. That was wisdom!
It seems humorous now, but six years ago it wasn’t so funny, and I felt totally inadequate.
I learned to persist because I wanted my husband to live a healthy life. The scripture in D&C 64:33 became a reality for me¾I just kept persisting: “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.” Last year for the first time I single-handedly cooked Thanksgiving dinner by myself. The Lord can and will strengthen us.

Church members in Tallinn spent a day helping needy community members perform maintenance on their homes. Some participants chopped wood and shoveled coal, while others cleaned carpets, changed curtains, and washed windows and walls.
Maila Chan went with her family to visit an older woman and chop wood for her. “As a mother I am so happy that our family had such a wonderful experience,” she said. “How great it is that while serving others, you forget your own problems completely. I know that while serving others, we only serve our God.”
Margit Timakov also observed, “Putting aside my own duties and committing myself wholly to helping somebody, I understood what power sacrifice really has. We do not need to ask why or whether we could have done something else. We just reach out and help. We help because we care. We help because we want to follow Christ’s example.”

American servicemen, their families, and others living in the Philippines loved the Filipinos and in 1960 pleaded with Elder Gordon B. Hinckley, then an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles assigned to supervise the Church in Asia, to open the Philippines to missionary work.2
On his first visit to the Philippines in 1960, Elder Hinckley realized the potential the Philippines offered as a mission field. Legal challenges slowed official recognition for the Church, but Elder Hinckley and Robert S. Taylor, president of the Southern Far East Mission, believed permission for missionary visas would soon be granted. With authorization from the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, they scheduled a meeting at the American War Memorial Cemetery on 28 April 1961 to initiate missionary work.
At 6:30 on a quiet, peaceful morning, around 100 members of the Church—mostly servicemen and their families, but including David Lagman, a Filipino member—met near the small memorial chapel. At the conclusion of a brief meeting, Elder Hinckley offered a prayer in which he invoked blessings “upon the people of this land, that they shall be friendly and hospitable, and kind and gracious to those who shall come here, and that many, yea Lord, we pray that there shall be many thousands who shall receive this message and be blessed thereby. … We pray that there shall be many men, faithful, good, virtuous, true men who shall join the Church.”3
Since that time, his prayer has been answered many fold. Visas for full-time missionaries were soon approved, and on 5 June 1961 the first four missionaries were transferred from Hong Kong to Manila. Probably because the people were curious about them, the elders were invited into every home they visited that day.

When the Kirtland Temple was almost completed, Truman was ordained a seventy. Eagerly he prepared for another mission. But shortly before he was to go, Joseph Smith asked him to stay and build a store. Truman told the Prophet that he was now a seventy and wanted to serve a mission. The Prophet simply said, “Well, go ahead.”

After Joseph Smith left, Truman struggled with his thoughts: How could he bear testimony of a prophet of the Lord if he, Truman, was not willing to heed that prophet’s counsel? Truman remained in Kirtland and built the store and many other buildings that were needed. Joseph Smith prophesied that the joiner would have enough work for twenty men, and he did.

In 1875, Daniel reported to President Young that they were ready to start on their mission. Authorized by President Young, Daniel soon raised $500 to pay for the printing of the first set of Spanish selections.
In a later conversation with President Young, Daniel was asked how he proposed to prove to the satisfaction of the authorities of the Church—none of whom spoke Spanish—that the translation was correct. Daniel suggested this test: they would select a book, Brother Trejo would translate a passage into Spanish, Daniel would take the Spanish translation and, without looking at the original book, translate the text back into English. President Young accepted the suggestion, and when the Brethren received a copy of Daniel’s translation from the Spanish, President George A. Smith, then a member of the First Presidency, “laughingly remarked, ‘I like Brother Jones’ style better [than the original]. … The language is more easily understood.’”