Gospel Story Finder

I am going to tell you a sweet little story about my grandfather. My grandfather was a simple man. He never owned a car; he never drove a car. He literally earned his living by the sweat of his brow. He had many gifts, many of them were distinct, but they were not the kind of gifts that would bring upon him the acclaim of the world.

When I was sixteen, he passed away. The viewing for my grandfather’s funeral was held in our home. As a sixteen year old, I loved my grandfather. I was among the older grandchildren and knew him longer than most. I stood not far from his casket as friends and neighbors came to pay their respects. As I stood there, a rather prominent, well-known man in our community stood lingering some time at my grandfather’s casket. Presently, he was joined by another fellow; and I heard this exchange between them.

The first individual said, “Ed Wilkes was the most honest man I ever knew.” And then he told this story.

He had purchased a school bus. In those days school buses were privately owned in our part of the world, and parents would pay a fee to have the school bus pick up their children. My grandfather could not afford the fee to have his son, my dad, ride the school bus. So it was the case that as the school bus would go to and from school it would pass this young man, this student, my dad, on the road; and it bothered the fellow who owned the bus. He went to my grandfather and said: “It really bothers me to pass your boy up on the road. I would like to have him ride.” My grandfather responded that he could not afford to pay the fare. The man who owned the bus said that didn’t matter to him. My grandfather responded, “I do anticipate that I will have some money coming at the end of October on a given date (I have forgotten the date); and if you would like to carry my son on your bus, I will, on that given date, pay you his fare. That was readily agreed to.

The date late in October came; and on that day, there was a horrific blizzard. It was heavy snow and wet. It was cold. About eleven o’clock at night, the fellow telling this story heard a knock at his door. He opened it and there, standing in this blinding storm, was my grandfather. He said, “I have come to pay you the money that I owe for carrying my son.” The fellow said: “My goodness, I did not expect you to come in this weather. I could have waited another day or two.” And then this response: “Perhaps you could have waited for the money, but I could not delay bringing it to you. It was for me that I brought it tonight. I need to know that my word is good.”

I heard this account told by the man who was party to the bargain and knew that my grandfather was a poor man who died rich. “I need to know that my word is good.”

As a teenager, I dreaded church.
I believed the gospel was true, and I knew that attending church was necessary for me to continue to grow spiritually. But I often felt inadequate.
In my mind, I thought I couldn’t live up to everyone’s expectations of what a good member of the Church should be like (or what I thought everyone’s expectations were). Everyone else seemed to be bubbly, outgoing, eloquent, and always willing to bear testimony or say a prayer. But me? I was quiet and I felt anxious in social situations. So I didn’t feel like I had a light to shine as a member of the Church.
During college I moved into a new apartment, and my roommate introduced me to her friends in the ward. I immediately felt like I belonged with them because of their love and acceptance they showed me. I felt like they genuinely wanted to get to know me. To my surprise, I felt a great deal of my social anxiety subside.
I realized this sense of belonging didn’t come from a change in scenery, but from a changed perspective. I learned that I don’t have to be outgoing to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. There is strength in quiet. There is strength in listening and pondering. By recognizing my strengths as a more introverted person and tackling my weaknesses related to social anxiety, I found a middle ground that helped me survive—and even thrive in the gospel.
One question I asked myself was why I even went to church in the first place. I went to take the sacrament, to learn more about Jesus Christ, and to be worthy of the temple. But the scriptures also tell us that “the body [of the Church] hath need of every member, that all may be edified together” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:110; see also Ephesians 4:12).
While church meetings nourish our own testimonies, I realized that church is not only about me. We individually remember the Savior as we take the sacrament, but we are edified together as we share this ordinance as a congregation.
I was too concerned about what others thought about me and not concerned enough with the principle that should guide us in all our thoughts and actions: love. The prophet Mormon wrote, “I fear not what man can do; for perfect love casteth out all fear” (Moroni 8:16).
I realized that I don’t have to be best friends with everyone or be the most popular person in the ward. What is most important is not the quantity of my social interaction but the quality of my relationships. Instead of worrying about everyone at once, I just focus on connecting with one person each week at church.
Church is still a challenge sometimes, but as I have gently pushed myself to step outside my comfort zone and overcome my social anxiety, I have felt the Savior’s love for me and for all of His children. I am beginning to find my place. I know I’ve received grace through the Atonement of Jesus Christ to work toward overcoming my weaknesses and to use my strengths to build up the kingdom of God.

May I illustrate this truth with a personal experience. Many years ago, while serving as a bishop, I felt impressed to call upon Augusta Schneider, a widow from the Alsace-Lorraine area of Europe who spoke very little English, although she was fluent in French and German. For years after that first impression, I would visit with her at Christmastime. On one occasion, Augusta said, “Bishop, I have something of great value to me which I would like to present to you.” She then went to a special place in her modest apartment and retrieved the gift. It was a beautiful piece of felt, perhaps six by eight inches (15 by 20 cm) in size, to which she had pinned the medals her husband had been presented for his service as a member of the French forces in World War I. She said, “I would like you to have this personal treasure which is so close to my heart.” I protested politely and suggested there must be some member of her extended family to whom the gift should be given. “No,” she replied firmly, “the gift is yours, for you have the soul of a Frenchman.”

Shortly after presenting this special gift to me, Augusta departed mortality and went home to that God who gave her life. Occasionally I would wonder concerning her declaration that I had “the soul of a Frenchman.” I didn’t have the slightest idea what that meant. I still don’t.

Many years later, I had the privilege to accompany President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) to the dedication of the Frankfurt Germany Temple, which temple would serve German-, French-, and Dutch-speaking members. In packing for the trip, I felt impressed to take along the gift of medals, without any thought concerning what I would do with them. I’d had them a number of years.

For a French-speaking dedication session, the temple was filled. The singing and messages presented were beautiful. Gratitude for God’s blessings penetrated each heart. I saw from my conducting notes that the session included members from the Alsace-Lorraine area.

During my remarks, I observed that the organist had the name of Schneider. I therefore related the account of my association with Augusta Schneider, then stepped to the organ and presented the organist with the medals, along with the charge that since his name was Schneider, he had a responsibility to pursue the Schneider name in his genealogical activities. The Spirit of the Lord confirmed in our hearts that this was a special session. Brother Schneider had a difficult time preparing to play the closing number of the dedicatory service, so moved was he by the Spirit which we felt there in the temple.

I knew that the treasured gift—even the widow’s mite, for it was all Augusta Schneider had—was placed in the hand of one who would ensure that many with the souls of Frenchmen would now receive the blessings the holy temples provide, both for the living and for those who have passed beyond mortality.

When I was released from the service, I faced a critical decision. My best friend from Normandy and I had planned for a long time to visit the United States, and I had saved my money so I could go. But his plans fell through. I had to decide whether or not to go by myself. I returned to Normandy, to walk the beaches and to think.
Anyone who could have eavesdropped on my mental conversation at that time would have known I already had a testimony. “I am well off here—I have my family and friends, I feel sure of myself, and this is the most beautiful spot on earth,” I told myself. “But what if I don’t go? I could miss an opportunity to learn even more about the gospel, to really gain a testimony of it. I could give up the trip, the dream of my young years. But to give up a chance to know more about the Lord’s church?”
In the U.S. I had the opportunity to develop many close relationships with Church members. I finally began to believe I did have a testimony—I can’t forget the wonderful feelings when, each time I’d ask myself a question, I would feel the Holy Ghost enlightening my soul, clearing away the doubt. I had had difficulty understanding why polygamy had been practiced. On a bus somewhere between Colorado and Utah, I glimpsed the vision, not a visual sight, but a spiritual insight, of the men who practiced it. And I saw how it was possible for such a thing to be pure, that it had come from God. That sort of clarification continued throughout my trip in the States.
I eventually ended up visiting some islands near Seattle, Washington. There, in a small apartment, I studied the Book of Mormon for ten days. My testimony continued to grow. The time had come to return to France, and in my heart I knew I would be baptized.
Several days after I returned home, the missionaries asked me to help them teach a lesson. The investigator was a science student, and he was struggling with some of the same questions I had confronted when I was studying the same subjects. I explained to him how I had found answers to the questions, and when we left he seemed satisfied and happy.
A few days later, the missionaries called to tell me he was joining the Church. “How about that,” I told myself. “Here I am, able to help someone else accept baptism, and not myself. This has lasted long enough!” I felt I had a testimony, but I fasted and prayed. I stayed up the whole night pleading with the Lord to seal this testimony in me. Finally, early in the morning, a sweet, peaceful calm filled my soul. I knew I had to tell the elders I was ready to be baptized.
As I rounded the last corner on my way to see the missionaries, I felt a strong force trying to keep me from going. It was like walking against a 70-mile-per-hour wind, which I had done before, only it was stronger. But this was spiritual. I was just about to give up and turn around. I knew this force wanted me to doubt everything, but I finally said, “No, no. I know there’s a God.” I felt that truth deep in the roots of my soul. I knew He would battle this force for me.
I reached the chapel door, just a normal chapel door, but I had to pull with all my might to force it open. When I entered I saw some members and felt their spirit, and the opposing force was gone, broken. I felt the sweet peace in my heart again, and felt it even more strongly several days later as I was baptized and confirmed. I still feel it to this day.

My parents supported 13 of us siblings on missions and at one time there were three serving at the same time. It was through the examples of my siblings that I desired to serve a mission. I was fortunate and blessed to serve a mission right after I graduated from High School at the age 17. I have to admit that I did not want to serve a mission in Samoa because I did not speak the language.

My mother raised us speaking English because of her father, papa Malaki's, encouragement. That we could learn Samoan anytime. Long story short, I would meet with my bishop at the time, Bishop Beaver Ho Ching, who happened to be my cousin, a few months before graduating from High School to work on my mission papers.

Each Sunday we met he would encourage me to go to College at BYU–Hawaii and find a good husband to raise a family, he said I was too young to go on a mission. I finally asked him to please send my papers in, I would accept the Prophet telling me not to go but not him. He had enough of me and agreed to move my papers forward.

Then I met with the Stake President, President Eugene Reid, who happened to be married to a cousin of mine, and he kind of said the same thing as my Bishop. He knew I was determined to go so he asked where I would like to serve, I joyfully said, New Zealand, at least I can speak English there.

He then said, “Let’s just put Samoa and New Zealand as your second choice. You’d be lucky if you can go at all.”
I reluctantly agreed.

Two weeks later, I got my call, guess where to?
That’s right, Apia Samoa Mission.

I wasn’t too happy at the time but I can honestly say I had the best experience and of course it was the best mission. I am grateful to have served in Samoa because I learned the language, by reading the scriptures in Samoan and English, I came to appreciate the culture and people more and my testimony of Joseph Smith and the Savior grew. It wasn’t easy, but it has been a great blessing in my life.

And then there’s Natalia Yereskovska. As a 15-year-old exchange student, she left Cherkassy, Ukraine (south of Kiev), for Sleepy Hollow, Illinois (northwest of Chicago). She gave her LDS hosts quite a shock when, on the way home from the airport, she said, “I know God sent me to you.”
She had been praying to be placed with a religious family, “so I could find my spiritual life.” When she read the profile sheet of the Bruce B. and Jean Bingham family, she saw that they didn’t smoke and that they attended church regularly. But she also felt something, a witness that she should listen to the Binghams and follow their example. Natalia spent the next year participating in family prayer, home evening, Young Women, sacrament meetings, and Sunday School.
Her sensitivity to the Spirit grew. She found answers she’d been seeking for years. She took the missionary discussions. She fasted and prayed and received an answer that she should join the Church. Fearful that her parents would never approve, she gathered her courage, made her request, and received permission. She was baptized on January 7, 1996. But soon she faced concern of another kind. She must return to Cherkassy, a town of 350,000, where she would be the only Latter-day Saint.
“I was scared,” she says. “I couldn’t imagine going where there is no church, where I wouldn’t be able to go to meetings or take the sacrament. But on the flight home I remembered what Brother Bingham told me: ‘No matter where you are, you can be a light.’ That gave me some comfort.”
After spending two Sundays studying scriptures, praying, and singing hymns by herself, Natalia heard of an LDS youth conference in Kiev. She went, and there she met President Wilfried M. Voge of the Ukraine Kiev Mission. Together they mapped out the required steps for the Church to be recognized in Cherkassy. The process started with getting signatures on a petition inviting missionaries to come. But the request had to come from adults.
Natalia made friends with a university professor who once stayed with an LDS family in Wisconsin. He agreed to help, prepared an official letter of invitation, got a group of business students to agree to listen to the missionaries, and even arranged a meeting with the mayor of a small town nearby. After Natalia explained about Church standards, the head counselor of her school also signed the petition and requested that missionaries speak to the entire school!
In September 1996, the first missionaries came. In October, Church meetings were held. In January, the first convert was baptized. Then another in February. Then families. Additional missionaries were assigned. Young Women, Relief Society, Sunday School, and Primary were organized. Picnics and service projects were held. Men were ordained to the priesthood. A branch president was called. Natalia led one of her lifelong friends to the Church, and even the professor’s wife was baptized! In short, the branch kept growing and growing. Today, if you visit the Cherkassy Branch and ask for Natalia, five members will turn and say, “Yes?”
When Natalia first thought about establishing the gospel in her hometown, she was nervous. But President Voge said, “Heavenly Father will support you.” That kind of faith has paved the way for others.

The bunkbed mattress squeaked as Dinis rolled over. He had tossed and turned all night. But he just couldn’t sleep!
What if the missionaries were wrong? Dinis thought. What if this isn’t the true church after all? What if I’m on the wrong path? The questions kept bothering him.
Dinis’s family joined the Church two years earlier, when he was 10. When the missionaries first taught them, Dinis had felt right away that what they taught was true. Dinis and his family were some of the first people to join the Church in Portugal. Dinis was a pioneer!
But lately he had started worrying. What if getting baptized was not the right choice?
Dinis didn’t tell anyone he was worried. Not his brothers or his sister. Not even his parents. But tonight, it was all he could think about.
Dinis sighed. He looked down over the edge of the bed. His brothers were sound asleep on the bottom bunk. Dinis was alone.
He knew he needed to ask God if the Church was true. He knelt in the middle of his bed. He bowed his head and began to pray.
“Please, God,” Dinis said softly. “Let me know if Joseph Smith really saw you and Jesus.”
Dinis had prayed many times before. But this time was different. Dinis really needed to know. He prayed harder than ever for help.
“I don’t want to be wrong,” he whispered. “I just want to know what’s right.”
Then Dinis felt something. The feeling was strong and warm. It grew until he felt it all over his body. He felt like he might explode with joy!
Dinis knew the feeling was the Holy Ghost. God had answered his prayer! The missionaries were right. Joseph Smith really was a prophet. And getting baptized wasn’t just a good choice. It was the best choice.
Dinis lay on his back and looked at the ceiling. His worries were gone. He pulled his blanket close around him. Before he knew it, he was asleep.
As Dinis got older, he always remembered the night when he prayed in his bunkbed. He knew that he was on the right path as a member of Jesus Christ’s Church. And he knew that Heavenly Father would always hear his prayers.

My family lives within walking distance of our chapel, so I had to walk to church every Sunday and to Mutual every Wednesday. I would beg my parents to drive me, but they firmly believed that I, along with the rest of the family, should walk. We walked in sunshine, rain, and even snow. I had to reassess my entire Sunday-shoe wardrobe.
Walking together was an embarrassing feat for our family of six children. We would straggle out of the house carrying scriptures, various bags, and even babies. Some of us would still be dressing as we ran out the door. My little brother would pause at each step to pull on a sock or tie a shoe.
Occasionally, we would notice a neighbor watching, and my mom would laugh. “Here come the Embleys!” she would say. I didn’t think it was very funny.
At this time I had been searching for a job. I had interviewed at several clothing stores with no luck and was beginning to lose hope. Because of my determination not to work on Sunday, it seemed no one wanted to hire me. Potential employers always asked if I would work on Sundays.
My reply, of course, was “No.”
They would explain that being available to work on Sunday was part of their hiring policy, and then ask me again if I could work Sundays. My answer stayed the same. They would nicely say they could not hire me, but I could come back if I changed my mind.
One day I discovered that the local grocery store was hiring. I applied, and they wanted to interview me right away. I went to the store for my interview and was sent to the pharmacy and up a flight of stairs. I stood in an office until someone realized that I was there. Finally, a polite lady wearing a green smock invited me in.
She introduced herself and said, “I’m your neighbor.” It shocked me because I hadn’t made the connection that she lived across the street from me.
After looking over my application, she asked if we could revise the available hours I’d put down. This made me nervous after being turned down at so many places, and I got ready to be disappointed again. We made a few changes to my weekday schedule, then went to the weekends.
“For the most part, we require our employees to work on Sundays,” she said, “but I see you walking to church every Sunday and Wednesday, and I think if it’s important enough for you to go to church every Sunday and Wednesday, then we can let you off those days. I’ll talk to your manager and work things out.”
I was amazed! Because my neighbor had seen my dedication in walking to church, I got a job that didn’t require me to work on Sunday.
Now every time I complain about walking to church, my mom simply reminds me that my salary comes because of my faith. If I hadn’t walked to church every Sunday and Wednesday, I wouldn’t have my job. I’m grateful that Heavenly Father provides a way when we do what He commands.

When I was a teenager, I struggled with some sinful habits that bordered on addictive. The struggle went on for several years and affected the way I perceived myself and my relationships with others.
In church and at home, I heard often about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s perfect love for each of us, regardless of what we’ve done. This is a beautiful truth. But despite that knowledge, I still felt stuck in what seemed like a never-ending rut of sin and self-hatred that I couldn’t escape. I simply couldn’t find the strength to change.
It wasn’t until college that I started to really strengthen my testimony of Christ, and only then did I become personally acquainted with the aspect of His character and His Atonement that I needed: His enabling power.
I needed to know that Jesus Christ could change me. I’d proven countless times over the years that I didn’t have the power to change myself; only He could help me. And once I finally gained that testimony for myself, I found His help in ways I never could before.
One Sunday as I took the sacrament, I pondered about the symbolism of the bread and water—which represent the body and blood of Christ—and the order in which we partake of them. It was significant to me that we are offered the bread (which reminds me of sustenance and strength) before being given the water (which makes me think of washing and cleansing). To me, this suggests that the Savior doesn’t wait to offer us strength until after we have repented and are made clean. Instead, His enabling power is available to us throughout the repentance process.
As Elder D. Todd Christofferson taught: “We do not need to achieve some minimum level of capacity or goodness before God will help—divine aid can be ours every hour of every day, no matter where we are in the path of obedience. But I know that beyond desiring His help, we must exert ourselves, repent, and choose God for Him to be able to act in our lives consistent with justice and moral agency.”1
This was a pivotal realization for me.
I had been trying and failing to overcome my bad habits on my own for years. So from that moment forward, I started viewing the sacrament as an opportunity to draw strength from the Savior every week, as well as a preparation to receive the cleansing, sanctifying power of the Holy Ghost.
My prayers started including pleas for increased ability to resist temptation, instead of just asking for forgiveness. I saw those prayers answered over time. My scripture study became less of an item to check off and more of an opportunity to hear the voice of the Lord. Going to church became more significant. The Spirit began to point out things I was doing or exposing myself to that, though not inherently sinful, were not contributing to my spiritual well-being, and I found the motivation to remove them from or limit them in my life.
As Christ enabled me to make these seemingly little adjustments, the Spirit’s influence on me grew, and with that growth came an increased ability to resist the temptations that had previously held me captive. The intervals between my moments of weakness gradually lengthened. I started noticing factors that left me vulnerable to temptation, and it grew easier to limit those factors. Instead of my bad habits being removed all at once, it was an incremental process of replacing that sin and evil with righteousness and good habits.
Through this process, I learned so much about how the Savior knows our needs and can provide us with unique help for the unique problems we have at certain times of life.

This story happened in Zimbabwe.
“I love to see the temple. I’m going there someday,” sang Ryan.
“Going there today!” said Ryan’s older brother Roy.
Momma folded some clothes and put them in a travel bag. “We’ll begin today, but it will take us two days to get to the temple in South Africa,” she said.
Ryan and his family had waited a long time to go to the temple. And now it was finally time! They would be gone for a whole week.
“Momma, tell us again about Tawananyasha,” Roy said.
Momma smiled at the boys. “Tawananyasha is your older brother. He died when he was only one. But he is still a brother to you, just like Tafadzwa and Tatenda. Papa and I love all five of our sons.”
Ryan smiled as he thought of Tawananyasha. It felt good to know that their parents loved them all.
“That’s why we’re going to the temple,” Momma said. “To be sealed together as a family forever!” She zipped up the travel bag. “Now get your things. It is temple time!”
Roy helped Ryan carry their travel bag outside. Papa joined them, carrying a box of food Momma had prepared for the trip. Tafadzwa and Tatenda carried their bags too. Soon the whole family started walking to the church. A bus was waiting for them there to take them to the temple.
Ryan climbed up on the bus and sat next to Roy. Three other families from their ward were also loading the bus. When everyone took their seats, the bus set out on the long drive to the temple.
Ryan and Roy looked out the window. It was the rainy season, so everything looked green and beautiful. They passed fields and roadside stands where people sold tomatoes, bananas, and potatoes. They even saw monkeys on the road! Ryan wondered what other animals might be hiding in the tall grass and trees.
Soon day turned into night, and the bus drove on. It was a long ride, but Ryan and Roy didn’t complain. Ryan fell asleep thinking, It is temple time!
As they reached the city, everyone on the bus watched out the windows. Who would see the temple first?
“There it is!” Roy said.
Finally, the time came to go inside the temple. “It is temple time!” Roy whispered to Ryan as they walked inside. They changed into white clothes. Then the boys sat in a waiting room with the other children for a while.
Soon a nice temple worker took the children to join their parents. They walked into a room that had a soft table in the center for people to kneel at. It was called an altar.
“Welcome to the sealing room,” the worker said at the front of the room. “Today I will use the priesthood to seal each family together forever.”
Ryan and Roy watched as the other three families were sealed. Then it was their turn.
Ryan and his brothers knelt with his parents around the altar. The sealer invited one of their friends to represent Tawananyasha. Roy looked at Momma and Papa as he placed his hands on theirs. He saw tears sliding down Momma’s cheeks, but she was smiling big.
When the sealing was over, Ryan gave Momma a hug. “You look like angels,” she whispered to her sons.
“It feels like an angel is with us,” Roy whispered back. “I have a special feeling in my heart.”
“Me too,” said Ryan. It felt amazing to be in the temple with his forever family!
Because of the priesthood, we can be with our families forever!
Illustration by Rachel Hoffman-Bayles

The youth of the Salem Oregon East Stake really cleaned up at a local 4-H outdoor camp. Heavy winter storms had toppled some trees and torn hundreds of smaller branches from others. The stake youth council decided that cleaning the camp would be a good service project.
The date was set, and come rain or shine, the stake youth were invited to help. One hundred and fourteen showed up to clean the cabins and lodge—inside and out. Trails were cleared, downed trees were cut up for firewood, fences were repaired, and windows were cleaned.
After a hard day’s work, the young people relaxed over dinner and games. The 4-H people were grateful for the help, and the youth felt they had made some new friends.

At that time, our town had only one barbershop, and it had a shoeshine stand in it. When I was 10 and 11, I reigned supreme as the best shoe shiner in town. Some Saturday nights, I got as much as 50 cents for shining a pair of shoes, although most of the time I received a quarter. I was elated with the feelings I experienced in earning my own money for spending and saving.
One lesson I learned from that barber in the town of Moro, Oregon, I have never forgotten. I came in late one day, and I started making up an excuse for my lateness. He got my attention and said, “Look, I’ve been in the army, and I’ve heard every possible excuse. Just tell me the truth, and we’ll get along fine.”
That counsel has stuck with me ever since. Every time I start to make an excuse for a mistake, I remember that nothing is gained with the excuse process. As a result, one of my mottoes is “Don’t make excuses. Either do the job or don’t do the job. When appropriate, express sorrow for not doing the job—but don’t make excuses.”

I remember attending a meeting near Bancroft, Idaho, years ago. It was sponsored in part by the extension service of the University. We’d had a wonderful meeting, and after it was over, I was greeting some of the wonderful farmers who were there, and among them was a man by the name of Brother Yost, and I said, “Brother Yost, how are things out on the farm?” Brother Yost said, “Oh, things are fine, Brother Benson, but I’m about 20 thousand dollars worse off than I was three days ago.” I said, “What’s the matter—another frost?” He said, “Yes, it hit the wheat just in the dough stage, and you know what that means.” He said, “We’re starting the mowing machines in the morning, but everything’s all right. We’ve still got a little wheat in the bin, and we’ve got at least part of our year’s supply laid away. We’re not going to starve, and there’ll be another crop.” As we left him, I said to my wife, “What a wonderful spirit.”

We drove on down to Logan. We had our children with us, and we stopped on Main Street to go into a grocery store to pick up a few cookies for the kiddies. And who should I meet on the sidewalk but Brother Yost. I said, “Well, what are you doing way down here?” He said, “Brother Benson, it’s our day to go to the temple.” And I said, “Well, reverses don’t dampen your spirits any, do they?” Then he taught me a lesson. He said, “Brother Benson, when reverses come we need the temple all the more.”

I like the story about Mary Ann Freeze, a stake leader of Young Women many years ago. Her health was always very poor, and so one day all the members of her board and all the young women of the stake fasted and prayed for her. She felt the strength of their love and prayers. That night she wrote in her journal: “I told them that I always knew I was beloved of them, but never to what an extent before. We all felt that that experience had created a more powerful bond of love between us.”

Once during his second winter, two days out of Placerville, Thompson discovered at nightfall a fur trader, James Sisson, partially delirious and near death in a mountain cabin. Sisson’s legs were frozen to the knees and gangrene was setting in. After chopping wood and building a fire in the fireplace, Snowshoe skied to Genoa for help.

Unfortunately, the only doctor in town was out on another emergency call. So Snowshoe, with the help of volunteers and a sled, managed to bring Sisson to Genoa in spite of deep mountain snow.

Then they found that the doctor was out of the chloroform necessary to perform the leg amputations! And where was the only chloroform? Across the mountains in Sacramento. This was now the fifth day since Snowshoe had left Placerville, California. And in all this time he had caught only quick snatches of sleep. Nevertheless, he started out immediately for Sacramento, amazingly making the run in a night and a day and then back to Genoa again in another night and day in time to save Sisson’s life.

Many years ago I accompanied a brother I home taught, Brother Schaaf, to the hospital to give his wife a priesthood blessing before her surgery. Sister Schaaf shared her hospital room with a woman named Annie Leddar, a long-term patient with terminal cancer who was not expected to live much longer.
I reached out to pull the dividing curtain between the two hospital beds before beginning the blessing, but I stopped. Not wanting to exclude Annie, I explained what we were about to do and asked if she would like to witness the blessing. She said she would like to watch. Her husband, who had passed away, had been a minister in another faith, and she was interested in what we believed. Brother Schaaf and I proceeded with the blessing while Annie listened.
A few days later, before Sister Schaaf went home from the hospital, Annie asked if she could receive a priesthood blessing as well. Brother Schaaf and I gladly returned to the hospital to give her a blessing. Annie was not cured of her cancer, but her health greatly improved.
She was interested in learning more about the gospel, so I asked the missionaries to stop by the hospital to teach her. She listened to the gospel message with an open heart and chose to be baptized. Every week after her baptism we came to the hospital to take Annie to church in her wheelchair.
Because Annie was ill, it was difficult for her to get around, but she soon found her own way to serve the Lord. We brought her a typewriter, and she spent hours every day in the hospital doing family history work. Annie lived three years longer than expected and prepared hundreds of family names for the temple before she passed away.
After Annie’s death, Sister Schaaf did proxy temple work for many of Annie’s female ancestors.
As far as I know, Annie was the only member of her family to join the Church. Her living family was never enthusiastic about her involvement with the Church, but I am sure many of her deceased family members were grateful for the vicarious work that was done for them.
We never know if people we meet are ready to receive the gospel. I am grateful that I was able to see a seed—planted in Annie’s heart after she witnessed a priesthood blessing—flourish and bless hundreds of Heavenly Father’s children.

I’d like to tell you another experience about a carpenter my father used to hire. He was a very fine man, a very sharp and astute individual. He collected quotations. I still have two or three of the books that he pulled together on the sayings of the Brethren on different subjects. He was a tremendous gospel scholar. This man not only served a good mission, but he had gained to a tremendous extent and ability in gospel scholarship. He knew the scriptures; he knew the gospel. He would go to Sunday School class and priesthood class, and he would disrupt everything because he was constantly correcting the teachers on the little issues or bringing up gospel dimensions of which the teachers were not aware. When he would get in a sort of cross fire with the teachers, he would usually win; he was usually right. It was not only frustrating to the teachers; it was disruptive to the class.

This friend of ours changed his way one day. He shared with us what happened to him. He said, “I suppose you could say that I had a revelation. For one thing, I heard heavenly choirs. Never in my entire life had I heard music like that. Oh, how I want to be there! It was a beautiful experience.” Then he said, “Someone talked to me and scolded me. I was told that I must not disrupt the Sunday School and priesthood classes. ‘You must not do it because you bring contention and that brings the spirit of the devil. You must not do it.’” So he became cooperative and helpful in his classes from that time forward. The lesson I learned from that is that a man who uses his knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ to contend, to demonstrate that he knows a bit more than someone else, a man who feeds controversy by virtue of his background or his understanding of an issue, is a man who will introduce the spirit of the adversary into a gathering where the Spirit of the Lord is expected to be. It not only damages him, but it damages the faith and the testimony of the people around him long, long after the issues are forgotten.

Over the years I’ve remembered the experience of the carpenter, and I’ve seen that upholding the priesthood is greater, far greater, in working out our own individual salvation than any point of controversy or doctrine that we could make that causes contention and brings feelings of contrariness. Those kinds of things cause the influence of the adversary to affect a person’s heart, and they are not according to the will and inspiration of the Lord. It’s better that we keep the spirit of controversy out of our discussions, out of our teaching, than to feel that we are enlightening people when in reality all we’re doing is destroying the faith and testimony of those who may not be as well founded as we are.

I believe that, as teachers and members of the Church, and as children of our Father in Heaven, we need to remember the lesson that my friend the carpenter learned when somebody spoke to him from the heavens and told him not to be so controversial because it introduced a spirit that was from the adversary. While it might not have affected him too much, it affected those who were listening and caused him to be in a position where he was not a builder, where he was not an example of the believer.

Before the temple was completed, the Prophet Joseph felt a growing sense of urgency to bestow upon the Brethren of the Church all the keys, knowledge, and endowments that would be necessary for them should anything happen to him.

Parley P. Pratt records that the Prophet said, "I know not why; but for some reason I am constrained to hasten my preparations, and to confer upon the Twelve all the ordinances, keys, covenants, endowments, and sealing ordinances of the priesthood, and so set before them a pattern in all things pertaining to the sanctuary and the endowment therein."[17]

Once he had done so, Joseph said, "the Lord is about to lay the burden on your shoulders and let me rest awhile; and if they kill me the Kingdom of God will roll on, as I have now finished the work which was laid upon me, by committing to you all things for the building up of the kingdom according to the heavenly vision, and the pattern shown me from heaven."[18]

But as the walls of the temple rose, so did unrest. The citizens of Illinois became alarmed as the political power of the Saints increased. Additionally, several key brethren apostatized and turned against the faith betraying those to whom they had sworn loyalty. A spirit of hatred, envy, and rage began to infect many in the area and, once again, the Saints of God found themselves the victims of prejudice and anger, turned out of their homes, robbed of their possessions, beaten and threatened.

It culminated on a day, late in June of the year 1844 as Joseph agreed to surrender himself at Carthage and stand trial against yet another malicious charge. It was early in the morning when the Prophet set off for Carthage with seventeen of the brethren. He stopped for a few moments as he passed the temple, still only one story high and, looking out over his beloved city, he said, "This is the loveliest place and the best people under the heavens; little do they know the trials that await them."[19]

Joseph Smith knew that this would be the last time he would look upon his beloved city and his beloved people. "I am going like a lamb to the slaughter," he said, "but I am calm as a summer's morning. I have a conscience void of offense toward God and toward all men. . . . I shall die an innocent man, . . . and it shall be said of me, 'He was murdered in cold blood!'"[20]

At about 5:00 p.m. on the afternoon of June 27, 1844 an armed mob--painted black--of from 150 to 200 persons descended on Carthage jail.

"Hyrum was shot first and fell calmly, exclaiming: I am a dead man! Joseph leaped from the window, and was shot dead in the attempt, exclaiming: O Lord my God!"[21]

Willard Richards, who had witnessed the martyrdom sent a message to Nauvoo. "Joseph and Hyrum are dead," he wrote. "Taylor wounded. . . . I am well. . . . The job was done in an instant."[22]

The bodies of Joseph and Hyrum were placed in pine coffins and brought to Nauvoo the next day. "As the solemn procession approached Nauvoo," one historian writes, "sorrowing Saints filed out of the city to meet them. For more than a mile beyond the Temple the dusty road was lined with the bereaved citizens of Nauvoo. As the two wagons appeared in sight and the rude funeral trappings confirmed the report that their beloved leaders were slain, they gave vent to their emotions in weeping and lamentations. As the cortege approached in the heat of the mid-day sun, the cries and lamentations of the sorrowing Saints arose and fell like the deafening din of a distant cataract. The procession moved slowly to the Mansion House, where the bodies were given into the care of their kindred who proceeded at once to prepare them for burial."[23]

Two years ago, my youngest brother, Chad, stepped through the veil. His transition to the other side left a hole in the heart of my sister-in-law Stephanie; their two small children, Braden and Bella; as well as the rest of the family. We found comfort in the words of Elder Neil L. Andersen in general conference the week before Chad died: “In the crucible of earthly trials, patiently move forward, and the Savior’s healing power will bring you light, understanding, peace, and hope” (“Wounded,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 85).
We have faith in Jesus Christ; we know we will join Chad again, but losing his physical presence hurts! Many have lost loved ones. It is hard to be patient and wait for the time we will rejoin them.
The year after he died, we felt like a dark cloud overshadowed us. We sought refuge in studying our scriptures, praying with more fervency, and attending the temple more frequently. The lines from this hymn capture our feelings at the time: “The day dawn is breaking, the world is awaking, the clouds of night’s darkness are fleeing away” (“The Day Dawn Is Breaking,” Hymns, no. 52).
Our family determined that 2020 would be a refreshing year! We were studying our Come, Follow Me lesson in the New Testament book of James in late November 2019 when a theme revealed itself to us. James, chapter 1, verse 2 reads, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into many afflictions” (Joseph Smith Translation, James 1:2 [in James 1:2, footnote a]). In our desire to open a new year, a new decade, with joy, we decided that in 2020 we would “count it all joy.” We felt so strongly about it that last Christmas we gifted our siblings T-shirts that said in bold letters, “Count It All Joy.” The year 2020 would surely be a year of joy and rejoicing.
Well, here we are—2020 instead brought the global COVID-19 pandemic, civil unrest, more natural disasters, and economic challenges. Our Heavenly Father may be allowing us time to reflect and consider our understanding of patience and our conscious decision to choose joy.
The book of James has since taken on new meaning for us. James, chapter 1, verses 3 and 4 continue:
“Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.
“But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.”
In our efforts to find joy in the midst of our trials, we had forgotten that having patience is the key to letting those trials work for our good.
King Benjamin taught us to put off the natural man and become “a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord, and [become] as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things” (Mosiah 3:19).
Chapter 6 of Preach My Gospel teaches key attributes of Christ that we can emulate: “Patience is the capacity to endure delay, trouble, opposition, or suffering without becoming angry, frustrated, or anxious. It is the ability to do God’s will and accept His timing. When you are patient, you hold up under pressure and are able to face adversity calmly and hopefully” (Preach My Gospel: A Guide to Missionary Service, rev. ed. [2019], 126).
Patience’s perfect work may also be illustrated in the life of one of Christ’s early disciples, Simon the Canaanite. The Zealots were a group of Jewish nationalists who strongly opposed Roman rule. The Zealot movement advocated violence against the Romans, their Jewish collaborators, and the Sadducees by raiding for provisions and pursuing other activities to aid their cause (see Encyclopedia Britannica, “Zealot,” britannica.com). Simon the Canaanite was a Zealot (see Luke 6:15). Imagine Simon trying to coax the Savior into taking up arms, leading a militant group, or creating chaos in Jerusalem. Jesus taught:
“Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. …
“Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. …
“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God” (Matthew 5:5, 7, 9).
Simon may have embraced and advocated his philosophy with zeal and passion, but the scriptures suggest that through the influence and example of the Savior, his focus changed. His discipleship of Christ became the central focus of his life’s efforts.
As we make and keep covenants with God, the Savior can help us to “be born again; yea, born of God, changed from [a] carnal and fallen state, to a state of righteousness, being redeemed of God, becoming his sons and daughters” (Mosiah 27:25).
Of all the zealous social, religious, and political endeavors of our day, let disciple of Jesus Christ be our most pronounced and affirming affiliation. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Matthew 6:21). Let us also not forget that even after faithful disciples had “done the will of God,” they “[had] need of patience” (Hebrews 10:36).
Just as the trying of our faith works patience within us, when we exercise patience, our faith increases. As our faith increases, so does our joy.
This past March, our second daughter, Emma, like many missionaries in the Church, went into mandatory isolation. Many missionaries came home. Many missionaries awaited reassignment. Many did not receive their temple blessings before departing to a field of labor. Thank you, elders and sisters. We love you.
Emma and her companion in the Netherlands were stretched in those first several weeks—stretched to tears in many instances. With only brief opportunities for in-person interaction and limited outdoor exposure, Emma’s reliance on God increased. We prayed with her online and asked how we could help. She asked us to connect with friends she was teaching online!
Our family began to connect online, one by one, with Emma’s friends in the Netherlands. We invited them to join our weekly, online, extended-family Come, Follow Me study. Floor, Laura, Renske, Freek, Benjamin, Stal, and Muhammad all have become our friends. Some of our friends from the Netherlands have entered “in at the strait gate” (3 Nephi 14:13). Others are being shown “the straitness of the path, and the narrowness of the gate, by which they should enter” (2 Nephi 31:9). They are our brothers and sisters in Christ. Each week we “count it all joy” as we work together in our progress on the covenant path.
We “let patience have her perfect work” (James 1:4) in our inability to meet in person as ward families for a season. But we count as joy our families’ faith increasing through new technology connections and Come, Follow Me study of the Book of Mormon.
President Russell M. Nelson promised, “Your consistent efforts in this endeavor—even during those moments when you feel that you are not being particularly successful—will change your life, that of your family, and the world” (“Go Forward in Faith,” Ensign or Liahona, May 2020, 114).
Where we make sacred covenants with God—the temple—is temporarily closed. Where we keep covenants with God—the home—is open! We have an opportunity at home to study and ponder on the exceptional beauty of temple covenants. Even in the absence of entry into that sacred physical space, our “hearts … shall greatly rejoice in consequence of the blessings which shall be poured out” (Doctrine and Covenants 110:9).
Many have lost jobs; others have lost opportunities. We joy, however, alongside President Nelson, who recently stated: “Voluntary fast offerings from our members have actually increased, as well as voluntary contributions to our humanitarian funds. … Together we will overcome this difficult time. The Lord will bless you as you continue to bless others” (Russell M. Nelson’s Facebook page, post from Aug. 16, 2020, facebook.com/russell.m.nelson).
“Be of good cheer” is the commandment from the Lord, not be of good fear (Matthew 14:27).
Sometimes we get impatient when we think we are “doing everything right” and we still do not receive the blessings we desire. Enoch walked with God for 365 years before he and his people were translated. Three hundred and sixty-five years of striving to do everything right, and then it happened! (See Doctrine and Covenants 107:49.)
My brother Chad’s passing came just a few months after our release from presiding over the Utah Ogden Mission. It was miraculous that while we were living in Southern California, of all the 417 missions we could have been assigned to in the year 2015, we were assigned to northern Utah. The mission home was a 30-minute drive to Chad’s home. Chad’s cancer was diagnosed after we received our mission assignment. Even in the most trying circumstance, we knew that our Heavenly Father was mindful of us and helping us find joy.
I witness of the redeeming, sanctifying, humbling, and joyous power of the Savior Jesus Christ. I witness that when we pray to our Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus, He will answer us. I witness that as we hear, hearken, and heed the voice of the Lord and His living prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, we can “let patience have her perfect work” and “count it all joy.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My mind goes back to Germany some 64 years ago when from the land of Zion came two fine young missionaries, Brother Wayne Kartchner and Brother Otto Andre. My wife and I were just newlyweds at that time, and they taught us the gospel. They came very often to our home. We were good prospects to them, and they liked us very well. And they liked my wife’s good cooking too.
So we soon were led to the waters of baptism, and on a cold night in 1923 we were baptized in a big river near the city.
I came to America thereafter, and I can truly say I love this great land of opportunity. Wonderful opportunities lie in store for all of you. Just keep the laws of God. Be on his side, and he will bless you.