Gospel Story Finder

As a young man, Adrián Paz Zambrano of Honduras wondered why the Bible mentions only the area around Jerusalem and wondered if Jesus Christ visited other nations.

“Years later two missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my house,” wrote Adrián. “They showed me the Book of Mormon and invited me to read in 3 Nephi, which tells about Christ visiting the Americas.

“As I read, I remembered the questions I had when I was young. I had found the answers. Because of the Book of Mormon, I learned that Jesus Christ visited the Americas after His Resurrection. I was filled with joy because I knew that God loved all His children regardless of location or circumstance.”

Adrián and his wife prayed together to know if the Church was true, and both received a testimony. They were baptized and confirmed, and one year later their family was sealed in the temple.

—“In high school, my older brother Jerry and I were real rivals,” explained Charisse Wolflick, 19, from Bend, Oregon. “He was always smarter than me. Then he took a drafting class and had trouble with it. So I took the same class just to show him I could do better.”
She did.
“At first I wasn’t sure that I liked it, but as the semester went on, I found I just loved it. I’d go in at noon and spend extra time on my drafting. Any time that I had, that’s what I wanted to do.”
A faculty adviser at Ricks steered her into design drafting and introduced her to the world of computers. Now she designs things like car parts and machines.
“We study natural forces, like the power of water and air,” Charisse said. “It ties in with the gospel because you think, The Lord made the whole earth, and we’re learning how it operates.”

Sermon 2: Creation is Generally Pain-stakingly Slow But Rewarding; Destruction is Quick But Unfulfilling.
This sermon was taught to me earlier this summer when I cut down two large pine trees in my backyard that were approximately twenty-five and forty feet in height. I enlisted the help of a "crack" team of veteran lumberjacks to help me with the project (you can see from the images of my children that they were a rough and rowdy bunch). The trees had probably been planted when the home was newly built in 1973.

The thought occurred to me in the middle of the process that literally in a matter of hours I was destroying what had taken forty years to create. (Another backyard sermon was under way). To my mind came other things which had been built laboriously over time only to be destroyed in moments.

I thought of King David's marriage, kingdom and exaltation all consumed in his lust for Bath-Sheba; Abel's mortal life and Cain's eternal prospects were quickly dispatched in that first case of fratricide; and Thomas B. Marsh's standing in the Church was quickly diminished due to one little milky mess. Surely we can all think of instances in our personal lives or the lives of those dear to us where years of building have been destroyed in moments.

As I continued to work towards toppling the trees I thought of the precious shade, life-giving photosynthesis and two big, beautiful conifers that were home to squirrels and birds that would now be gone. The destructive consequences of my actions became particularly poignant when, upon finally getting to the lower branches of one of the trees, I watched a dove fly out of her nest as it tumbled from its resting place and her eggs broke upon the ground--the mother had waited until the last possible moment to abandon her nest and eggs.

I still stand by my decision to cut the trees down, but in that moment I felt the Spirit reminding me that there are always victims left in the wake of destructive actions and that few worthwhile things are ever accomplished overnight or in an instant. It should be a great life lesson to all of us that God's works--including Creation, Atonement, Exaltation and Salvation--require painstaking, deliberate effort and that they take place over time in perfect order until all is finally in place.

Similarly, in our lives, corn is not planted and then harvested in a single day and eternal families aren't created in one FHE. Being a builder and a creator and emulating The Creator in this life generally means steady, patient, laborious work. Conversely, those who want everything now and are willing to take shortcuts are not true builders.

As someone with major depressive disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder, I faced this reality for many years. I didn’t know how the Spirit felt. When my symptoms became bad during college, I ended up in the hospital for a week.
During those dark times inside my mind, I wondered how these illnesses would help me in the long run. How would God use this troubling experience for my good? What purpose did He have for me in giving me this trial?
I asked for priesthood blessings during this time, and there was always one sentence I heard repeatedly: “God has given you the resources to overcome this trial.” Having faith that He would lead me to what I needed in order to heal, I decided to trust my doctors. Little by little, I got the help I needed. Over time, I shared my mental health journey online.
Soon afterward, I began receiving messages from my male friends, asking about my mental health and sharing their similar thoughts and feelings. They asked me for help to know how to fight their numbness. At first I was surprised.
In many cultures, men are expected to always appear strong and never reveal their emotions. That makes it hard for them to admit they need help, and they often suffer in silence.
When this happened for the third time, I realized that my trials had prepared me to help. All those dark moments, all those therapy sessions, all my prayers, and all my efforts to exercise faith as I sought heavenly help taught me to recognize when others are facing similar trials and how to point them toward help.
I have learned the truth of these words from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “If you had appendicitis, God would expect you to seek a priesthood blessing and get the best medical care available. So too with emotional disorders. Our Father in Heaven expects us to use all of the marvelous gifts He has provided in this glorious dispensation.”1

During the Second World War we used to call the men and women in uniform to talk in our stake conferences. In Oakland we called on one of the women. She said, “I work over in San Francisco in the government hospital. One day they brought in a girl for medical treatment. She was a Mormon girl. When they sent her tray up, one of the nurses said, ‘Should we send milk or should we send coffee?’ I spoke up and said, ‘Send milk; she won’t touch coffee.’ ‘Why won’t she touch the coffee?’ asked the other nurse. ‘Because she is a Mormon.’ ‘Ah, don’t kid yourself,’ the girl said. So the tray went up with the coffee on it.”
That first girl was on the spot—not only for herself, but for the Church. She said she almost held her breath until that tray came back for fear that the Mormon girl would let her down. In a few minutes the tray came back. The coffee had not been touched. With it was a note: “Please send me a glass of milk.” That is what it is to be able to live up to your standards. The eyes of the world are upon us.

I'd like to relate another experience. This experience is personal, but I tell it to illustrate some points, not to draw attention to myself or to try to make myself seem anything but very ordinary. Pat and I have the privilege of serving in the Rexburg Temple.

We serve on the Tuesday evening shift, and the shift is divided into 45-minute segments in which you serve in various capacities, as assigned by the shift coordinators. Occasionally, one assignment may finish early, and there will be a little time before the next assignment begins. It was during one of those short breaks I was reading the Book of Mormon. I was reading in 1 Nephi 8, which, as all of you know, is Lehi's dream. Now, I have read or been taught Lehi's dream many, many times, as have all of you. But as I was reading that very familiar story in that quiet, sacred setting, something marvelous, even miraculous, happened. I was reading in verses 24 through 28, about the group of people who had grasped the iron rod and actually made it to the tree of life and partook of the fruit but then, because of the pressures of the world, fell away. Let's review some of those verses a little closer.

"I beheld others pressing forward, and they came forth and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press forward through the mist of darkness, clinging to the rod of iron, even until they did come forth and partake of the fruit of the tree.

"And after they had partaken of the fruit of the tree they did cast their eyes about as if they were ashamed.

"And after they had tasted of the fruit they were ashamed, because of those that were scoffing at them; and they fell away into forbidden paths and were lost" (1 Nephi 8:24-25, 28; emphasis added).

Please note the words "fell away."

Then two verses later, a different group of people moved along the iron rod. In verse 30 it says, "He saw other multitudes pressing forward; and they came and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press their way forward, continually holding fast to the rod of iron, until they came forth and fell down and partook of the fruit of the tree" (1 Nephi 8:30). Please note and compare the words "fell away" to "fell down." At that point, the contrast in my mind's eye of one group "falling away" and the other group "falling down" became amazingly significant. At that point, at that moment, the Spirit taught me in a most significant and powerful way. I was taught of true faith and humility, of sincere reverence and respect, and of heartfelt commitment and dedication. I was taught of proper worship. I was taught of being in the world but not of the world, and of keeping an undistracted focus on principles of eternity. And, most importantly, I was taught of the love of God. "[And] God so loved the world, that He [sent] his only begotten Son" (John 3:16). I was taught of a loving Savior who knows me personally, and I was taught of an Elder Brother who loves me so much that He even died for me. This all happened in a spiritual instant but had an amazing and miraculous long-term effect.

As I pondered those feelings, it was apparent nothing totally new had been received. The words or the verses were not new, and even the feelings were not totally unexperienced, but the Spirit used that opportunity of repetition to strengthen and reaffirm the truth and validity of many powerful gospel principles. It was an amazing spiritual confirmation, a strengthening of testimony, a witnessing through the Spirit of a loving Father's tender mercies. It was a personal miracle stimulated through the medium of the Book of Mormon. My life was touched. My life was changed by a Book of Mormon miracle! I am grateful for that reaffirming witness of eternal truths. I am grateful for that repetition.

A little girl was critically ill. She needed a special kind of blood for a transfusion to save her life.
Her brother had the same type of blood. The doctors asked him if he would be willing to give his blood so his sister might live. Without hesitating, the young boy answered, “Sure!”
After the blood transfusion was completed, the brother turned to the doctor and asked softly, “Now, sir, when will I die?”
It took only a moment for the doctor to realize the young boy had thought that giving blood to his sister would kill him. But he was willing to die for her.

My brother, Andrew, my twin sister, Stephanie, and I were all raised by parents who sacrificed for us, taught us right and wrong, and, most importantly, taught us strong moral values. Nevertheless, I started to doubt my parents’ advice and beliefs around the beginning of my teenage years.
I made many poor choices, but one thing remained firm in my mind: a desire to know the truth in religion. I desired to know of God, so I turned to the intellectual pursuit of that knowledge and thought of myself as an agnostic.*
One year I spent hours pondering the meaning of life and the nature of God.
I pored over religious books and websites, learning about different religions and forming my own theories about God and His workings in our lives.
I wasn’t happy during that year, but I was too busy seeking more knowledge to realize it. I continued to make poor choices, which only widened the rift between my family and me. I felt lost.
I came to a point where I felt I had to make a life-ending or a life-starting decision. When I thought about making the life-ending choice, I remembered what a young man had given me almost four years earlier.
In the seventh grade, Sawyer had recognized my curiosity about God and had given me a Book of Mormon. Later, that Book of Mormon was sold in a garage sale. In tenth grade, he asked what I had done with the Book of Mormon. I had felt so bad about telling him it had been sold that when he invited me to go to Mutual or seminary with him, I agreed.
I went to seminary after having read all I could find about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, with a notepad full of questions intended to disprove it. Once there, as I read them, they were answered with kindness and certainty. I exhausted all my questions and gave up, resigned to the fact that there was something special about the Church.
The next Tuesday, I went to Mutual with Sawyer. He asked if I minded if the missionaries came over to talk to me. I didn’t fully understand the question, but I agreed to meet them.
During the discussion with the missionaries, I recounted the story of Joseph Smith and wanted to know the next step. It was a very Spirit-filled discussion, but I was lacking one thing. I told the missionaries I believed, and I thought I believed, but I didn’t truly understand what it meant. I continued to have discussions with the missionaries and to learn about Jesus Christ’s restored gospel.
There came a point, however, when I was overwhelmed with the storm of life, and I went to the missionaries for help. They showed me 3 Nephi 14:24–25:
“Therefore, whoso heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, who built his house upon a rock—
“And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock.”
Once I heard those verses, my heart rejoiced, and I felt the storm lessen. I asked the missionaries what that meant. They replied that it was the Holy Spirit confirming truth to me. After that moment, I had a testimony of the Book of Mormon, and since I had a testimony of the Book of Mormon, everything else fell into place. I knew that there is a living prophet, that Joseph Smith really was called of God and is the Prophet of the Restoration, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints really is the true Church.
My knowledge was gained through my faith; my faith was not gained by my knowledge.
Ever since I received a testimony of the Book of Mormon, I have strived to live according to the commandments of God. It’s a lifelong journey but one I look forward to.
I can’t give thanks enough to the people who set me on this journey. I can, however, be the best disciple of Jesus Christ I can be and pray that my actions will invite others to join me on this journey back to our Heavenly Father.

As we recognize we are off the path and are headed in the wrong direction, we must recalibrate and head back in the right direction. On a recent trip to the Dallas-Fort Worth area, before I left the airport in a rental car, I plugged in my GPS and proceeded to type in my destination. I left the rental-car lot and listened carefully for directions.
“Turn left and proceed 500 feet.” I carefully followed those directions. About four turns into the trip, the GPS told me to turn left. But on my left was a barrier blockading a closed road. Luckily it was around 11:00 p.m. and no other traffic was on the road. As I started to panic, the GPS clearly stated, “Merge onto I-15 and head north, traveling toward Salt Lake City.” Now I was totally flustered. For some reason my GPS thought I was in Utah! I pulled off the road, turned off the GPS, waited a few seconds, restarted the GPS, and retyped the Texas address. Within a few seconds the correct set of directions was displayed, and I was guided to the intended destination—my targeted goal.
From a spiritual sense, when we realize we are going in the wrong direction, we must stop and get back on the right track—and the sooner the better.

When I was speaking to newly called missionaries, I asked for all who were twenty-four years of age to stand, because that is the age Joseph Smith was when the Church was organized. Five stood at this meeting, and I asked one of them to come up and tell us how he happened to come into the Church, and to bear his testimony. He said he was in the armed services in Vietnam, and that while there he met some of our young men, one in particular who was living and teaching the gospel, and as a result this young man is now a member of the Church. He explained the great difference it had made in his life, how he had repented of what he had done, and how he came to understand the purpose of life. And then I asked the other four. Two of them told the same thing in bearing their testimony—that they had joined the Church while in the armed services. It was a thrilling experience to realize the effect of young servicemen who were devoted, who had testimonies of the gospel and the courage to live and teach the gospel and bear testimony, while in the armed services.

You never know what will happen to the seeds you plant. Elisabeth Gambee of the Springfield First Ward, Eugene Oregon Stake, recently found out when she received a letter from a friend whom she’d met at camp and had given a copy of the Book of Mormon to. He had just received his mission call to Boston.

That was the highlight of a year that included many bright spots. Elisabeth graduated from seminary, served as ASB vice president, was in the honor society, was on the varsity cheerleading squad and tennis team, and performed in school musicals. She was also chosen by her school to be Young Woman of the Year.

In our family we have had a tradition of temple work. I think part of that comes from the delightful story that is told of my relative, Thomas G. Lowe, of Franklin, Idaho. Brother Lowe was asked to prepare the gold balls that now sit at the top of the Logan Temple. They were to be 36 inches in diameter. In order to prepare them, he nailed planks into a cube, and then using a chisel and hammer he whittled down the wood to the 36 inch diameter. On the ball that sits at the west end of the temple, he worked for many days until he got the ball to 38 inches. It was almost impossible to bring it down to the size specified. He called to Brother Angel, the architect, and asked if he must do the work according to the drawing. Brother Angel confirmed the fact that the ball must be 36 inches. When the architect was out of sight, Brother Lowe went to the top of the temple and placed the ball, even though it was two inches too large. The second ball that sits at the east end of the temple was whittled down to 36 inches. He then went to Brother Angel after some days and said, “I finally finished my job. How does it look now?” Brother Angel looked up to say, “It’s fine. It always pays to build like the architect says.”

While putting the second ball in place, Brother Lowe fell off the north side and it took 20 minutes to get a ladder to him. His fingers were stiff for awhile but there was no other problem associated with the near-fatal fall.

Now, fast forward to several years ago and consider three young men who also answered a call from the prophet at approximately the same age of 19 years and came to the Missionary Training Center as missionaries. For some reason they couldn’t quite grasp why they were there and immediately started having problems. As their branch president, I received reports that they were causing problems in their classes and doing other inappropriate things. Although they were companions, I met with each of them individually, discussed these problems, and challenged them to remember who they were and who they represented and, if nothing else, to simply look at the Savior’s name on their badges on a regular basis as a reminder. A week later I received a report that things had not improved. So on a Sunday I met with them again and went over what was and wasn’t appropriate. That same day they went back to their room and played what turned out to be a very inappropriate prank on another missionary, which led to more serious consequences. At this point, the decision from Church headquarters in Salt Lake City was that they apparently were not ready to be representatives of the Church and needed to go home.

In both cases, three young men had answered a call, but each set chose to take different routes. What was the difference? Two of the words that come to mind are agency and perspective.

Pursuing a Pathway degree is sometimes a long, patient process. Daddy Kampoy David shares his experience: “I have a young family and a full-time job. I serve as the first counsellor in the Bandalungwa Ward, DRC, and I teach in the EnglishConnect program. My time for study is very limited. I started my degree in 2020 and hope to finish in 2024. I get up at 5:00 am for study, care for my family, work all day, and study a couple of hours before returning home at night. Before exams, I take a few days of vacation for study. I know this degree will help me grow as a person and provide a more secure life for my family. I know this is worth it!”

For three days we had been driving our newly restored, 40-year-old Auburn Phaeton convertible through the Canadian and New England countryside. Our dream after five years of hard work was a reality. A handsome, shiny, black and chrome machine created by the genius of classic automobile carriage designer, Gordon Buhrig, the model 851 Auburn is indeed a beautiful road car. It is akin in many ways to Buhrig’s more recent design for the Lincoln Continental. On the highway the Auburn’s performance is difficult to match even today. The great auto racing and engineering brothers August and Fred Duesenburg, of Indianapolis fame, combined the nearly all-aluminum, 8-cylinder Lycoming engine, turbocharged carburetion, and negative pressure exhaust with a dual-speed Columbia rear drive—a fantastic combination of automobile engineering, performance, and economy that was almost unbelievable in 1935. It was way ahead of its time, and it was known as the King of the Road. After driving and enjoying it for three days, we all began reminiscing about the first time we had seen it.
It had been abandoned beside a barn, and weeds were growing around and inside it. It may not have interested some families; but we were so excited at the prospect of a true, classic automobile to restore that we were almost afraid to ask the owners about it. We drove by the barn three times, looking and talking excitedly. Finally we stopped and, with a surge of courage, made the purchase. We slept little that night and even less during many nights to come as the family planned, unbolted, repaired, restored, rebolted, and refinished the Auburn as a family project.
Around the supper table, usually three nights each week, we talked of the previous night’s progress and planned the work that needed to be done. Rust, grease, and road dirt by the pound, accumulated over nearly half a century, were scraped, wire brushed, and washed away. Many bolts, under stress for years, had to be sawed off to allow complete disassembly of vital running parts. All the bearings required either repacking or replacement. New upholstery with the same fine leather and the original style had to be made to restore the convertible’s interior. Replating all the bright work with copper, nickel, and chromium added to the list of goals to be reached.
We took special trips so the family could learn how to take care of the metallurgical testing of the rods, pistons, crank, and camshaft. We personally observed the lead-pouring of the engine bearings. With fascination we all watched “striking-a-match” to a newly rewound electric starter. Fusing the electrical insulation by fire was actually necessary in such old-type winding.
The second springtime after we had begun the project was especially memorable for us. The mechanical work was nearly completed. The family just had to hear, see, and feel the Auburn in action. After carefully oiling each cylinder and bearing, we rolled the car out into the beautiful, warm, Saturday-morning sun. Because of the tightness of the newly poured lead bearings, rods, and piston rings, the starter couldn’t turn the engine over; so we had to tow the car a few blocks to get it started. It was like Christmas to a five-year-old. The family celebrated the halfway goal we had set for ourselves and each took a turn driving the Auburn around the yard. None of us (and probably none of the neighbors) will ever forget that thrilling morning when the King again roared to life.
The project wasn’t strictly limited to our family, either. Neighbors and friends were caught up in the spirit of the King of the Road. Ted, with his welding torch, a perfect diversion from his chemistry lecturing at the university, put smooth metalwork in place of rusted-out panels. Rebuilding the engine and drive train with new bearings and piston rings would not have been possible without Tony’s skilled hands. Compliments received for the beautifully restored body lines gleaming with a dozen hand-rubbed coats of black lacquer were the result of Richard’s creative ability. It was during hundreds of hours of working together that Richard fell in love with our Auburn, and more important, he and his family learned more of the gospel and were baptized into the Church.
The thrill of driving that masterpiece of design and engineering and the countless hours of labor to restore it have indeed strengthened the life of each individual member of our family. Seeing the goal, planning and working together to achieve it, and finally feeling the achievement of driving that beautiful King has made our family goals, temporal and eternal, very real and important to us.
At the time of restoration, the Auburn was important to every member of our family. Today, in our philosophy of life, it has become merely the symbol of our real achievement. We have found that most of our life problems and challenges can be planned and worked out together much the way we restored the Auburn.

The summer of 1870 in the valley of the Great Salt Lake was a good time to be alive and to be sixteen years old! The original settlement was becoming a bustling city, and there was work for a willing and able hand. That’s just what young Robert Hemphill Gillespie was. Bob had gained a reputation as a good hand with horses and cattle and as a hard worker.
Bob already had a fine horse and the necessary gear for it. This was quite an accomplishment for such a young man, especially one who had been on his own with no home or parents since he was nine. He had proven himself to be trustworthy and dependable, and people liked to hire him.
One fine June day, Bob accepted a job that required him to cross a hundred miles of the Great Salt Lake Desert. Today, one can cross this desert in a comfortable, air-conditioned car on a fine paved highway in less than two hours. But on that day 130 years ago, it was just Bob and his horse with the sand, heat, lizards, snakes, and only the water he carried with him. Friends had told him to “be sure and take along some water,” so he filled a three-quart canteen and set off.
Now, Bob had never crossed a desert before and didn’t realize the danger of needing water and having no place to get it. He used up all that he had before even half the distance was covered. When he and his horse began to really suffer, Bob figured they still had about sixty miles to go.
He thought, Oh, if only I had saved some of the water! It was warm, but it was wet! If only I hadn’t hung the canteen strap over my shoulder, where it was so handy, I might have just a little left now!
He became very aware of how hot it was that June. He thought of all those swallows of water he had kept taking, not in real need as he was now! In desperate hope, he turned the canteen upside down above his mouth once more. The water really was all gone! Fear made him urge his horse to go faster—for a while. Then he noticed that his horse was sweating, so he slowed it down.
Soon his tongue had swelled so much that he couldn’t close his mouth. His fine horse was suffering, too. Strings of saliva hung from its mouth. We have to have water! Bob said to himself.
He thought he could see a small cabin off to the side of the trail up in some small hills. He couldn’t believe it! A cabin. A cabin meant there would be water! He immediately turned his mount in that direction. Riding up to the cabin, he found it deserted. There was a hole in the ground nearby, like an old well or a mining shaft. It was walled around with cedar logs. There appeared to be a little water about thirty feet down, so Bob climbed down inside. Sure enough, there was a little water! There were also some dead birds, a dead rabbit, and maggots! The water was bad. Sorrowing, Bob climbed back out, mounted his horse, and took to the trail again.
He remembered his mother teaching him to pray many years ago when he was a small child. He had not prayed for quite some time but decided to do it then. Looking around for a suitable place, he left the trail again. He found a large, low place that must have been either a wash made by runoff water long ago or a buffalo wallow. He dismounted, knelt, and began to pray, pleading for water: “For a drink, Lord. Yes, and a drink for my poor horse, too! My fine, good horse! Please, Lord!”
Bob thought of rain. “God, canst thou send rain, please?” he prayed. “Please forgive me, Lord, but we need a drink. Please make it rain. Thank thee, Lord. Amen.”
Having finished his prayer, Bob felt a little better. He climbed back up on his horse and rode off again, still filled with thoughts of the heat, his thirst, and his horse’s thirst. Oh, my poor horse! He agonized. I love my horse. I love my horse!
Recalling that he had asked for rain, Bob began to scan the sky for clouds. All he could find was one small cloud, far over on the southwest edge of the horizon. It seemed only about as big as a saddle blanket. He watched that cloud closely, wondering and thinking. After a bit, he noticed a little wind coming toward him from the direction of that little cloud. Could it be that it was drifting their way? It did seem a bit larger now, too. “Yes, Lord,” he said aloud, “I prayed for rain.”
Soon a drop of water hit his hand, another hit the saddle horn, another hit the horse, and another hit his hand. Suddenly there came a cloudburst from that little puff of a cloud! Within a few minutes, water was coursing down the trail and in the little ravine beside the trail, reaching almost to the horse’s knees! The horse bowed his head and drank. Bob dismounted, lay on his belly, and drank his fill of the muddy water. Then he refilled his canteen. Refreshed, he and his mount continued on their way.
After riding just a short distance, the trail and the ground all around were hot, dry, and dusty again. It was then that Bob fully realized what had happened. Halting his horse, he again dismounted and knelt on the dusty trail. Again he prayed with a full heart: “Thank Thee, Lord, for making the rain from a small cloud in the desert in June, so my horse and I could get a drink.”
Bob told this experience many times to his children and grandchildren, until he died at the age of eighty-six. They never tired of hearing it and have passed it on to their children and grandchildren. The thrilling moment was when he bore his testimony: “Now, children, don’t ever let anyone make you believe that the Lord can’t answer your prayer, for I know that He can!”

Years later, at the age of 15, the Prophet’s nephew Joseph F. Smith was called to serve a mission in Hawaii. You will remember that he was only five when his father, Hyrum, was martyred. His mother, Mary Fielding, died when he was just 13. Upon arriving on the island of Maui, young Joseph fell gravely ill. Despite these and other adversities, he wrote to Elder George A. Smith: “I am ready to bear my testimony … at any time, or at any place, or in whatsoever circumstances I may be placed. … I am ready to go through thick and thin for this cause in which I am engaged” (quoted in Joseph Fielding Smith, comp., Life of Joseph F. Smith [1938], 176).

After two years of custodial work, another ward was added to our building, making a total of four. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday we had Relief Society, with the officers arriving as early as 8:30 A.M. The Relief Society room, foyer, kitchen, south steps, nursery, and rest rooms had to be ready. While Relief Society was in session, we cleaned the rest of the classrooms, the chapel and the cultural hall.

Then at 3:00 the Primary officers began to arrive. The relief society room, nurseries, kitchen and rest rooms had to be checked and cleaned if needed. When Primary was over we picked up, swept, straightened chairs, and cleaned backboards to get ready for activity night. This went for about a year; then two wards moved out of the building. It seemed like we were on vacation!

I had a fun experience not so long ago with our youngest daughter. We were picking up leaves in our backyard and I noticed she was only using one hand to do so. Needless to say, I was picking up most of the leaves. Upon closer inspection, I could see her phone was clasped tightly in her hand. I suggested the job would go far more quickly if she put away her phone and picked the leaves up with both hands. But even more quickly, she explained that that wasn’t possible because she was in the middle of a text conversation with her friend.

With my patience now a tad thinner, I responded her friend could wait a few minutes and to put the phone away. She refused. Our conversation then went something like this “Phoebe, put the phone away.” “No Dad.” “Phoebe, put the phone away, right now.” “Aww Dad.” “Phoebe, I am going to count to three, if you don’t put the phone away by the time I’m done, you are going to lose it for the next month.” She barely put it away in time.

This experience reminds me of movies when the police officer tells the bad guy to “put the gun down” or “move away from the gun.” Needless to say, with my daughter using both hands and her full attention, the job was soon finished and there was still time to text her friend.

To a child of seven, the phrase “a judge in Israel” seemed much too profound a term to understand. In my teenage years, however, I learned that this was a phrase used to describe a bishop. I couldn’t imagine myself being a bishop, but I knew that if I was going to be one, I’d better live worthily. I charted a course that included honesty, high standards, and moral cleanliness. (And eventually, I was called to be a bishop, by men who did not know of that patriarchal promise.)

I carried my patriarchal blessing with me during service in the United States Navy in World War II. I had grown up in Taylorsville, Utah, sheltered and shy, the product of a tranquil pioneer community. I now entered a harsher life, where oaths and profanity were common, where some men made bragging about sexual exploits part of their daily ritual. But again, my patriarchal blessing served as a beacon. Its promises gave me hope that I could stay clean, that I could survive the conflict and live to serve in our Heavenly Father’s kingdom.

Throughout my mission in Europe, a phrase in my patriarchal blessing about preaching the gospel in power reminded me I was on the Lord’s errand, and therefore I should speak with authority. When I returned home and began searching for a wife, I knew I must find someone who would help me be worthy. After all, my patriarchal blessing made reference to the joys of a righteous posterity. Today, I am thrilled to go to the temple with my six children and their companions, and I do find joy and rejoicing in my posterity.

There is one sentence in my patriarchal blessing that has always intrigued me. It says, “You shall see great progress in the work of the Lord; for Zion shall be the head and not the heel.” This phrase has repeatedly come to my mind in recent times as we all have observed the growth and progress of the Lord’s Church throughout the entire world.

I can truly say that my patriarchal blessing, though short, has been a guide to me during my entire life. Your patriarchal blessing can do the same for you, if you read it often and chart your course by it. In these challenging times, when you are faced with temptations and pressures to compromise your beliefs, a patriarchal blessing can be the source of great strength that will instill faith in a loving, personal Heavenly Father.

How do you obtain a patriarchal blessing? Begin the formal process by talking to your bishop. He can answer questions and help you prepare. When you’re ready, he’ll give you a recommend.

Bishops are instructed to issue recommends only to those who are old enough and have been in the Church long enough to appreciate the sacred nature of the blessing.

The blessing is given in private, although a few family members may be present. Come to your appointment in an attitude of humility and prayer. You might also choose to fast.

Don’t compare blessings or share them, except with close family members. They should not be read in Church meetings or public gatherings.

A patriarchal blessing is not having your fortune told. It is a source of guidance as you grow in maturity and spirituality. As with all blessings, the fulfillment of your patriarchal blessing depends on personal worthiness and staying close to the Spirit.

Patriarchal blessings are not just for the future. The experience of receiving one is a blessing itself, an experience of learning firsthand how important and wonderful you are in the Lord’s sight. Just the same, you may have some concerns.

I’m not sure if I’m old enough or ready enough for a patriarchal blessing.
Why not talk it over with your parents or your bishop? Ask them if they think you are old enough and if you’re ready.

Can my parents tell me about their own patriarchal blessings?
If your parents have received their blessings, ask if there are portions they would feel comfortable sharing with you. You will probably find you are one of the blessings they were promised. For example, if they were promised righteous posterity, you are an important link in that chain.

What if my parents aren’t members of the Church or don’t support me in Church activities?
Check with your bishop or patriarch—they may have suggestions about how to appropriately include your parents.

I don’t feel worthy to receive a patriarchal blessing.
If you feel unworthy, become worthy. Put your life in order. Talk to your parents and to your bishop if necessary. But also remember that we’re all learning and growing. One of the important reasons for obtaining your patriarchal blessing is to receive guidance and strength.

I’m afraid the Lord will reveal what he expects of me, and then I’ll be obligated.
Actually, the Lord has already revealed many things he expects of you: righteousness, obedience, compassion, honesty. You’ve been taught about them all your life. And you’ve already made commitments—at baptism, each time you take the sacrament, when you receive the priesthood. Remember, a patriarchal blessing is an expression of the Lord’s love for you personally. More than anything else, it will help you understand through the Spirit your own marvelous potential and some of the great blessings the Lord has in store for you as you keep his commandments.