Gospel Story Finder

America was deep in the economic depression of the 1930s. I was one of several small children in our family, and our father had been unemployed for many months. There was no government assistance for the unemployed, and the Church welfare program was not yet in operation. Our needs were many. Some might have said we were destitute. Though I was only a child, I felt the anxiety and concern of my parents.
Each morning we knelt together as a family, and each one in turn led our prayer. One memorable morning it was Mother’s turn. She described some of our immediate needs, and then she thanked our Heavenly Father for the privilege of living the law of tithing. I immediately experienced a feeling of comfort and assurance. Living the law of the tithe was a privilege and would bring blessings. I did not doubt it because my mother knew it. Those feelings have remained and intensified throughout my life.

I also know a woman in Cape Coast, Ghana, who somehow tuned into general conference. She had never heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she became glued to what she saw and heard from prophets, seers, and revelators. Afterward, she looked for the Church. She found a chapel and met the missionaries. Eventually she was baptized. Recently, she sent me pictures of herself at the temple to receive her endowment.

In contrast, Reynolds was born in the United States on July 3, 1922. He lived in Provo and Salt Lake City, Utah, and eventually graduated from East High School. His father died in 1935, when Reynolds was only thirteen. As the only son and brother to two sisters, Reynolds felt great love and concern for his widowed mother and sisters. After high school Reynolds enlisted in the military and was sent to the Philippines. Prior to leaving Utah he received his patriarchal blessing. One of the promises in his blessing stated that he would “grow strong in the face of trial and temptation, growing strong in resisting temptation and thereby becoming an example of righteousness.”

By November 1941 Reynolds was sailing toward the Philippines. In January 1942 Reynolds was writing home to his mother from Mindanao about the heavy fighting. His letters contain counsel to his family to be faithful and to pray for him. Every letter his mother received expressed his love and concern for his family, including his desire to be with them. He talked about his future, especially about what he wanted to eat when he got home and what he wanted to pursue as a profession.

Meanwhile, Reynolds was listed as a prisoner of war by the Japanese government in May 1943. His mother received two messages through the Red Cross that indicated he was alive and healthy. The few words he was allowed to write told his mother that they were holding religious services in the prison camp and that he was working in the rice fields.

In a Deseret News article dated January 20, 1945, a reporter described how a Latter-day Saint group in a Japanese prison camp in the Philippines continued to live the gospel during their captivity. They held regular Church meetings and cared for each other. There were about twenty-five Mormon soldiers in the prison camp. They took comfort from their religion and had scriptures and songbooks. One former prisoner recounted a story of a sick young man being healed by two other prisoners. A Lieutenant Brown and an Officer Parry were the soldiers who administered to him. The Officer Parry mentioned in the article was Reynolds.

In September 1944 Reynolds was put on a Japanese prison ship bound for Japan. However, just off of the west coast of Mindanao, in the Philippine Islands, the Japanese freighter carrying the prisoners was torpedoed and sunk. In February 1945 his mother was officially notified that Reynolds had been on board the ship. His body was never recovered, but eyewitness reports say that those on the ship did not survive.

After recovering from three major surgeries which have prevented me from speaking in the past two general conferences, what a joy it is to be able to stand in this beautiful Conference Center today to teach and bear testimony to those who desire to hear the word of the Lord.
In the past two years, I have waited upon the Lord for mortal lessons to be taught me through periods of physical pain, mental anguish, and pondering. I learned that constant, intense pain is a great consecrating purifier that humbles us and draws us closer to God’s Spirit. If we listen and obey, we will be guided by His Spirit and do His will in our daily endeavors.
There were times when I have asked a few direct questions in my prayers, such as, “What lessons dost Thou want me to learn from these experiences?”
As I studied the scriptures during this critical period of my life, the veil was thin and answers were given to me as they were recorded in lives of others who had gone through even more severe trials.
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (D&C 121:7–8).
Dark moments of depression were quickly dispelled by the light of the gospel as the Spirit brought peace and comfort with assurances that all would be well.
On a few occasions I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. It is one thing to teach, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). It is another to live it. I also learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.
The experiences of the last two years have made me stronger in spirit and have given me courage to testify more boldly to the world the deep feelings of my heart. I stand before you today with a resolve to teach the gospel principles like the prophets of old—without the fear of man, speaking clearly with plain talk, and teaching simple gospel truths.

When I was in the seventh grade I walked home from school with my friend Mardean, who was an eighth grader. A new girl, Sandra Kleinschmidt, moved into our school, and we found that she walked home the same way. She was taller than we were and naturally a little gawky at that age. We found her comical and made up a few code words so we could make fun of her without her understanding. I don’t really believe my friend Mardean thought that game up or even completely understood it, but I knew what those code remarks meant nevertheless.
Then the class learned that Sandra’s father was in some way involved in television production. That was a rather new medium then and quite glamorous to us. Suddenly we were much nicer to Sandra. What if she should invite us home? What if her father should see us and be struck with our great looks or talent or both? What if we should get to be on TV or, at the very least, get to see a live show?
Many years later I recalled that phase of my life, and I suddenly envisioned Sandra Kleinschmidt’s Father—not the TV producer—but her eternal Father in Heaven. I imagined him coming to say, “Yes, Sandra is my daughter, a princess, a potential queen. You, Jean, are also my daughter, and I am so disappointed in your behavior. My daughters behave with grace and courtesy, with love and compassion.”
Who did I think I was as I walked home from school?
Who did I think Sandra was?

Soon she had an opportunity to go and do even more. She related, “After my baptism I had the desire to tell all my friends and other people I met about the Church of Jesus Christ. One day, when I was . . . in line at the Academy . . . to register for another quarter, I was standing next to a student I had not met or seen before. I received the strong impression to tell him about our Church. At first I resisted the feeling. This was a complete stranger and we were in an awkward situation. But the prompting stayed with me, and I offered a silent prayer and asked for help with what to say to this young man. So I asked him if he had ever heard about . . . [our] Church. I then told him about my beliefs—all this in the short time we had. . . . I invited him to come to Sunday School the next Sunday, . . . [and] to come to our home, if he wanted to know more. . . . He did accept the invitation and came to our house and also to Church. He was baptized.” [9] For my mother that was the beginning of many years of following the promptings of the Spirit with action.

The real key to serving with our talents is to have the Spirit with us. When I was a missionary, I read at the top of the second page in my mission handbook: “The Key to Spirituality.” (This was before the mission handbook was standardized, and the handbook would have been unique to my mission.) It said, “Arise at six each morning and pray intently, hungering and thirsting for the influence of the Spirit to fill your body, until it does.” Of course, the time of rising is negotiable; that was just our mission rule. When I was out five weeks, I was called to train a new missionary, and I really felt my inadequacy. It was the blind leading the blind. I decided I must have the Spirit if I was to succeed, so I started applying this Key to Spirituality. I had prayed for the Spirit before, but never until the Spirit. It was difficult at first. I tried to repent and humble myself and struggle in prayer until I felt the Spirit. I had already had experiences in the first weeks of my mission that had shown me the difference between working with the “power and gifts of God” and working with the power and gifts of Ray Smith. The difference was stark, and I knew that it was hardly worth walking out the door to do the work if I did not have the Spirit with me. I learned that I really could feel the Spirit on a daily basis. It became the norm for the rest of my mission.

When I left my mission to come home, I realized that I needed the Spirit just as much at home as I did in the mission field. I decided to continue the practice of praying daily until I felt the Spirit. I am still doing it today. After returning home, I found a quote from Truman G. Madsen: “Happy is the youth who prays for, and then until, and finally with, this subtle flame” (“Christ and Prayer,” 17). I have experienced the power of that idea.

Painting Yourself into a Corner
One day my father assigned me to varnish a wooden floor. I made the choice to begin at the door and work my way into the room. When I was almost finished, I realized I had left myself no way to get out. There was no window or door on the other side. I had literally painted myself into a corner. I had no place to go. I was stuck.
Whenever we disobey, we spiritually paint ourselves into a corner and are captive to our choices. Like repentance, turning around and walking across a newly varnished floor means more work—a lot of re-sanding and refinishing! Returning to the Lord isn’t easy, but it is worth it.
Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

During this difficult time, I developed the habit of sitting down at the piano at the end of each day and, with one hand, plunking out favorite hymns and Primary songs. I would play “Our Savior’s Love,” “When He Comes Again,” “I Feel My Savior’s Love,” “I Am a Child of God,” and many others, always ending with “Abide with Me; ’Tis Eventide.” This nightly ritual became a comfort to my family. No matter what the day had been like, if Mom sat down at that keyboard and played some hymns, it seemed all was right with the world—or at least more bearable.
One day when I felt I had had all I could take, I sent the children into the house and sat in the car to have a good cry. After I had calmed down and prayed, I went inside. As I opened the door, I heard the soft notes of one of my favorite hymns. My son was at the keyboard, playing hymns to soothe and comfort me in my distress, as I regularly did for him and his sisters.

A few years ago, I was interviewing missionaries. A winter storm was blowing in as missionaries came and went throughout the day. The storm changed from icy rain to snow and back again. Some missionaries arrived by train from nearby cities and walked to the church through the storm. Others rode their bicycles. Almost without exception they were cheerful and happy. They were the Lord’s missionaries. They had His Spirit and felt joy in His service regardless of their circumstances.
As each companionship concluded their interviews, I will never forget watching them go back out into the storm to preach the gospel and do what the Lord had called them to do. I could see their commitment and dedication. I could feel the love they had for the people and for the Lord. As I watched them leave, I felt an overwhelming love for them and for what they were doing.
Later that night, I attended a priesthood meeting in the same city. The storm had continued and was now mostly snow. During the opening song, the branch president of the smallest and farthest branch and his two missionary counselors, Elder Warner and Elder Karpowitz, came into the chapel. As they got ready to sit down, these two wonderful missionaries took off their winter hats and gloves. They took off their outer coats. Then they each took off a second winter coat and sat down. Like the missionaries earlier in the day, despite the weather these missionaries were happy. They felt the Spirit of the Lord in their lives. Through service in the Lord’s cause, they felt a certain love and warmth and joy that are difficult to describe.
As I watched these great young missionaries that evening, I had a remarkable experience. In my mind’s eye, I saw missionaries throughout the mission going out into that winter night. Some were knocking doors and facing rejection as they sought to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some were in homes or apartments teaching individuals and families. In spite of the conditions they faced, they were doing what they could to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ to those who would listen, and they were happy. Into my heart came a feeling that I cannot fully explain.
By a wonderful gift of the Spirit, I felt His love, the pure love of Christ that He has for faithful missionaries everywhere, and it changed me forever. I understood how precious each missionary is to Him. I caught a glimpse of what prophets would describe as the “greatest generation of missionaries” the world has ever known (see M. Russell Ballard, “The Greatest Generation of Missionaries,” Liahona and Ensign, Nov. 2002, 47). I began to understand why it was necessary to raise the bar so that missionaries everywhere would be entitled to the protection, direction, and happiness that accompany the Spirit of the Lord. I also began to understand why—as parents, bishops, stake presidents, and other leaders—we must do everything we can to help the young people of the Church become worthy of the blessings of missionary service.

But Lucy Mack was no carbon-copy Christian. Although knowing God through scriptures and prayerful communion, she doubted the religions that claimed to speak for him. Early in marriage she showed double qualities of devotion and independence. A severe respiratory infection brought a high fever, and Lucy’s life hung in the balance. Weakened and semi-conscious, she was informed by her shaken husband that the doctors expected her to die. But that night powerful prayers stirred within her weakened frame. She sought life in order to “bring up my children, and be a comfort to my husband.” Making her “solemn covenant” with God, she heard a voice assuring her (in scriptural language), “seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” Her solid recovery began from that hour, as she vigorously assured her watching mother that “the Lord will let me live.”7

“I spent my early childhood in Little Rock, Arkansas, where the Church wasn’t well established except for the little branch our family helped form. During the first eight years we lived there, we were the only Latter-day Saints.
“Our family held family home evening on Monday nights from the time I was a small boy. Besides learning gospel principles during family nights, we had recreational activities. It is hot and humid in Arkansas, so we often went swimming as a family or had a picnic and invited friends.
“After three other Mormon families moved into the area, a branch was organized in downtown Little Rock. I remember we met upstairs in the Women’s Club building. When the missionaries came to our area, we fed and housed them and enjoyed their companionship.”

It was Florence’s exemplary behavior that began the series of events that fulfilled her greatest longing. She was back in her hometown of Onitsha, Nigeria, practicing nursing. A woman in the neighborhood noticed that Florence came home after work, rather than going out with men. The woman suggested that her nephew contact Florence.

When Christopher Chukwurah met Florence, he told her immediately that he was looking for a wife. Based on his aunt’s recommendation, he said, he would like to marry Florence. Florence promised to consider his proposal.

“I had been very close to the Lord all my life,” recalls Sister Chukwurah. “Something kept telling me that I had to be close to the Lord.” She had been consistently praying for a good husband—someone who would care for her and who would not drink alcohol. “I wanted a family that would really be anchored on the Savior,” she explains.

When she prayed about Christopher, she had a warm feeling that this was a man who was spiritually inclined. When he returned for her answer, Florence accepted his proposal. They were married on 3 March 1972.

Elder Ronald A. Rasband visited Oklahoma just after a huge tornado struck the area. He was especially touched by a fifth grader he met there named Tori. She had huddled in the restroom with her friends as the tornado roared through her school. Tori said a prayer that Heavenly Father would protect them. Suddenly the roof tore away! Tori kept praying. “All of a sudden it got quiet,” she said. “When I opened my eyes, I saw a stop sign right in front of my eyes!” Later Elder Rasband gave Tori a blessing. He told her that angels had protected her in the storm. (See “The Joyful Burden of Discipleship” from the Saturday morning session.)

As we left Anchorage with the 24-foot river boat in tow and the bed of the pickup truck full of camping gear and food, the heavy rain clouds common during Alaskan summers were gathering over the mountains. It was July 1974. I had just met my 14-year-old son Craig and one of my university colleagues, Dr. Robert Whitmore, at the airport, and now we were headed for the Yukon River to undertake another research project.
We would head down the mighty Yukon, beginning at the point where the Trans-Alaska pipeline crosses this wild and magnificent river. In 1970 and 1972 I had surveyed parts of this region by helicopter in order to gather information on the falcons prior to the pipeline construction. Other portions of the Yukon River had been explored, but this part of the river was virtually unknown as far as the status of falcons was concerned. We would now have a chance to complete a check of the region by boat.
The salmon had just started their run upriver from the sea; they would continue their journey another 800 miles or so before spawning and dying. The July days were normally calm and sunny while the nights were crisp and cool. It is a lonely but satisfying feeling to stand around a crackling fire on a northern midnight, when it is still light enough to read a newspaper, and listen to the distant loons uttering their frenzied and maniacal calls. Sometimes, however, we were forced to remain in our tents for most of the day while the blustering winds whistled up the river and across the gravel bars where we camped. At one of our camps we found a small creek unnamed on the geological survey map, and we called it Molly Creek after my colleague’s baby daughter.
As the next three weeks passed, we visited cliff after cliff where there was evidence that falcons had at one time nested. Yet what we saw tore at our emotions. Based on the nature of the habitat, our previous years of knowledge from other portions of the Yukon River in Alaska and the Yukon Territory, and scattered information from other reports, we judged that about a dozen pairs of falcons should have been nesting on this stretch of river. Almost surely there were that many a decade ago. Now just half that number were present, and of those only two pairs had young. Some pairs still occupied their breeding places in silent splendor—but they were not producing young. Some pairs produced eggs so fragile they broke before hatching; others were not even producing eggs.
One nest we knew about had been continuously occupied for several decades. However, as we landed the boat beneath the nesting cliff, a sudden tightness gripped me, for a strange quietness seemed to surround us. Only the lap of water on the shore, the whisper of a light breeze through the ragged spruce trees, and the occasional twitter of some small bird along the river’s beach could be heard. Fearful of what we might find, we raced up the hill, scrambling over the broken talus beneath the cliff, and climbed up onto the nesting ledge. Except for a few old feathers, it was empty and lifeless. As we sat overlooking the great river flowing noiselessly beneath us and the wide expanse of the forest beyond, the outlines of two falcons came into view. Their high call, usually evoking in us a sense of the wild and the free, now seemed to carry with it a feeling of mournfulness and melancholy. They were giving the distinctive and peculiar wailing call that one soon learns to associate with deserted nests. We watched now as the two birds drifted slowly off into the arctic summer’s twilight, and all was silent again. The gallant, vigorous, and noisy defense of the nesting cliff, typical of the peregrine as it makes swoop after swoop at the intruder, was not here. Cold stones alone remained along the ledge where once there had been birth and life, low wails where once there had been loud calls of affection and anger, and only ghostlike shadows glided off into the sunset.

I grew up the youngest of ten children in a wonderful Latter-day Saint home. When I was a little boy, we had “home night” every Monday night.
At each home night, we were taught lessons on honesty, tithing, prayer, and fasting, as well as such practical lessons as turning off the lights and hanging up the towels. And we all gathered around the piano to sing, with Alice, my oldest sister, playing the piano. We always sang a hymn. I think that there is something very special about a family singing a hymn together in the home. It doesn’t matter how well they sing.
I have a deep love of music. I took piano lessons as a child, and my mother made sure I practiced every day after school. I have a tongue-in-cheek saying: “Mean mothers have children who play the piano.”
I had a wise bishop who called me in when I was twelve. He said, “LeGrand, we need some organists in our ward. I’d like you to take an organ class at the McCune School of Music. It costs five dollars for ten lessons. The ward will pay half of it, and you pay half.” I’m sure my mother put him up to it and paid the ward’s half.
I took the class and started to play the organ. When I was fourteen, I became the ward organist. In my high school days, I played the piano in a dance orchestra. That was a lot of fun. I loved the rhythm, and I could usually make five or ten dollars a night. When I was in dental school in Kansas City, Missouri, I played the organ at a Presbyterian church. It was a great experience for me. I played a lot of LDS hymns for them. They especially enjoyed “O My Father” and “Come, Come Ye Saints.” After playing at their service, I would get on the bus and go play a pump organ at our service.
Music has always been important to my own eight children too. When one of my four daughters was about nine or ten, we were all sitting at the kitchen table, reading the book of Mark in the New Testament. She said, “Daddy, is that where the song comes from? Could we please sing it?” We got out the hymnbooks and sang “Master, the Tempest Is Raging.” We weren’t a challenge to the Tabernacle Choir, but that hymn will never be the same again to me, because we sang it around the kitchen table.”
My girls sing together too. They’re are all married now, but they still come to see me at least once a week. I play for them and they sing. When my grandchildren come over on Sunday evenings, the ones taking music lessons always play for me. It’s a tradition.
When my wife and I went on our mission to Tallahassee, Florida, we started our missionaries singing. Our very favorite song was “Love One Another.” It helped when missionaries weren’t getting along.
My favorite hymn is “O My Father”—partly because it was my father’s favorite. After I grew up, I used to go every Sunday night and play hymns for my parents. They had an organ, and my father would sing along with me. He lived to be ninety-five. He loved good music and wanted me to play the hymns.
Now a General Authority, I sometimes play at stake conferences. I usually play “O My Father,” “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” “I Am a Child of God,” “Love at Home,” “I Know That My Redeemer Lives,” or “I Need Thee Every Hour.” Each time I’ve played, several mothers have come up to me and said, “Thank you. I wanted my children to see a grown man play. I have some sons who think that they want to quit, but when they see you, they want to keep going.”
My wife and I have a little tape recorder in the kitchen, and many times we turn it on and listen to good music. We love the Tabernacle Choir. Occasionally I sit down at the piano or organ and make my own arrangements of the hymns.
It’s important what children sing and listen to, because music can affect their thoughts. The Primary songs and the hymns are precious and are music that the Savior wants us to hear. There is too much music in the world, especially on radio and television, that just isn’t appropriate. I don’t think music is everything, but it is an important part of the Church—music and the scriptures and daily family prayer.

“He’s still afraid of snakes,” said Grandma A’Dell, looking at Grandpa out of the corner of her eye. “I loved snakes, especially the blow snakes that we caught in the cow pasture. Once, right after we were married, your grandpa and I were out on a walk, and I picked up a bitty little garter snake. Your grandpa told me to put it down right then and to never touch another snake if I wanted to touch him again. I let it go because I’d lots rather hug your grandpa than hold a snake.”

When I think of what our people do in this Church without having to be paid with money for what they do, I know that it is a tremendous thing. You take the General Authorities here on the stand. When they were called to be General Authorities, there was nothing said to them about whether they would receive an allowance to live on. I remember when I was back in Washington, just after President Benson was called to be a member of the Twelve and he had not yet been out West to be ordained and set apart. I was then the Presiding Bishop and attended his stake conference. And he said: “Bishop, will there be any provision that we will have a living while we are serving as General Authorities of the Church?” And I said: “Well, there will be a little allowance. But,” I said, “you will have to live differently than you have done back here unless you have got a little bit tucked away!” I happen to know of an offer that was made to him while he was in the Department of Agriculture that, in those days, was a tremendous offer; and he passed that by to come back here to be a member of the Quorum without any assurance that he would have an allowance given to him.
I think of when President Tanner was called to be one of the General Authorities. President McKay told us that he was in line to become the prime minister of Canada and that he was at the head of several great industrial organizations in Canada. I am sure that if he were to stand here now, he would tell you that when President McKay asked him to be one of the General Authorities, he did not discuss with him anything about an allowance that he would receive.
I could go on down, and each one of these men could tell you how they gave up their businesses and their professions, and why did they do it? Because they had received the gift of the Holy Ghost that made it possible for them to do what Jesus advised: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt. 6:33).
When I was the Presiding Bishop and one of my counselors, Bishop Ashton, died, I asked for Brother [Thorpe B.] Isaacson. He was then at the head of a large insurance business that he owned and operated. And when President George Albert Smith asked him if he was willing to serve as my counselor, he said: “Yes, but I would like to go back East and arrange with my company to appoint a manager, because you know in the insurance business so much depends on renewals. But,” he said, “if they won’t let me do it, I’ll tell them to take the business.” I happen to know that the tithing he had been paying was just about the equivalent of what his allowance was when he became a counselor in the Bishopric! And not only that, for the first six months after he received his allowance, he turned it back to the Church. He said: “I’ve never been on a mission, so it is about time I did something.”
Now if you could hear from each one of these men! For instance, I had a business with ten men and two girls working for me, and the President of the Church sent my father over to see how I would like to go to California and preside over the Hollywood Stake. I won’t take time to tell you all the details. In sixty days I’d sold my business, I’d sold my beautiful home, and moved my family down to California with no allowance to live on. I had to start all over again.
Then when I was in business here in Salt Lake and President Heber J. Grant called for a thousand short-term missionaries, he said: “Bishops and stake presidents are not exempt.” I was then a bishop. I landed back in New England—left my wife and seven kiddies and my business in the hands of my brother-in-law. You don’t do things like that with normal men! It takes men inspired by the Holy Spirit.
We have 28,000 missionaries in the world today paying their own way and maintaining themselves, and we have had hundreds of thousands since this Church was organized and the only reason that they do it is because they have the gift of the Holy Ghost. Most of them from their infancy have looked forward to the day when they could go on a mission.
I think of a little story President Benson told us a short time ago when he told about being at a banquet back in the East. He sat next to a minister, and the minister said: “Mr. Benson, I’d like to visit with you after the banquet.” So they got in another part of the building, and he said: “Now there are two things in your church we would like to copy.”
Brother Benson said: “And what are they?”
“Well, first, it’s your missionary system,” he said. “You send your missionaries all over the world. You don’t pay them; you make them pay their way to their field of labor, maintain themselves while they are there, and all the Church does for them is to pay their return fare when they come back.” He said: “Now in our church, we have a missionary fund. But,” he said, “we offer to pay our men to the field of labor, to maintain them while they are there, and then to return them after they are released—and we can’t get anybody to go!”
Now that is the difference when you are operating in the kingdom of man and the kingdom of God. It is God’s kingdom. He is the only one that can put his Holy Spirit into the hearts of his people.
No one in this world could duplicate what we did here last night when we held a conference of the priesthood of the Church. It was broadcast in over 1,700 different buildings and I imagine that we had an estimated attendance of over 200,000 men and boys, all bearing the priesthood of God together. No wonder Peter said: “Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people [we are peculiar to the world]; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).
Now think of this choir back here that has been singing to us so wonderfully. They have been doing it now for over fifty years. (I don’t suppose all of them have, but the Choir has!) And we don’t have to pay them anything—350 of them that gather here week after week to practice and then come to sing for us.
Down in the South, when I was president of the mission down there, I went to one of the beautiful new chapels there—not of our Church—and the minister showed us through. The ground had broken away so that the basement was above the ground level, and I said to the minister: “Do you know what we would do with this if we had it?”
And he said: “What?”
I said: “We’d improve it and use it to entertain our young people.”
“Well, Mr. Richards,” he said, “you can do it. You have trained leaders, you don’t have to pay them. But we haven’t got them, and we can’t afford to pay them.” Now I knew he could not because one of our members sang in his choir each week and was paid by the minister for singing in the choir.
What if we had to pay all of these folks here, and then all of our ward choirs, and all of the auxiliary organizations. And, just think!—on Friday we had a gathering of the Regional Representatives of the Twelve. I don’t remember just how many were there, but I think about 190. They are businessmen, executives, and professional men, and go all over the country without any compensation for their work in order to help build the kingdom. Thank God for the gift of the Holy Ghost! No wonder the Prophet said that included all things.
Now one of the finest illustrations we have in holy writ of what the Holy Ghost can do for a man is in the case of Peter. You remember when Jesus met with them in the last supper and told them that there was one among them who would betray him, Peter said something like this: “Though all men shall be offended because of thee, yet will I never be offended.
“Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee.” And Jesus said: “Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.” (See Matt. 26:3–35.) Then when Jesus was taken prisoner and Peter sat in the outer room, two different women came up to him and said: “Thou also wast with Jesus” (Matt. 26:69); and he denied it emphatically. Then a man came, and he even denied it with curses. And when he was through, he heard the cock crow, “and he went out and wept” (Matt. 26:75). Now that was Peter before he received the Holy Ghost.
Jesus commanded his disciples to tarry in Jerusalem until they should be endowed with the Holy Spirit; he said it was necessary for him to go away or the Comforter could not come. And he said: “But the Comforter … shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (John 14:26).
Now look at Peter after he received the Holy Ghost and when he was commanded by the chief priests not to preach Christ in the streets of Jerusalem. He said: “We ought to obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). He was as fearless as a lion.
I toured the Central American missions with the mission president a few years ago. We went into one of the great cathedrals there and on one of the walls were oil paintings of the original Twelve, showing how they were put to death. Paul was beheaded at Rome by Nero. Peter was crucified with his head downward because he didn’t consider himself worthy to be crucified like his Lord. That is Peter after he had received the gift of the Holy Ghost. Compare that with when he denied the Savior.
Now you could find that with all of our people, if you wanted to apply it—all through the work of the Church. We dedicate an average of one beautiful chapel a day throughout this Church and the people contribute to it; their tithes and their offerings make it possible to build these buildings, and they do it because of the Holy Ghost that they receive by the laying on of hands when they become members of this Church.
Now just to illustrate that: When I was back in the South, there was an itinerant preacher that came through Atlanta, telling the leaders of churches how they could get out of debt. He quoted the words of Malachi: “Prove me now herewith, … if I will not open you the windows of heaven” (Mal. 3:10). And he told those people that if they would pay their tithing for ten months, they could get out of debt. I talked to him afterwards, and I said, “Reverend, I would like to bear you my testimony, that you are getting pretty close to the truth.” I said, “We have been paying our tithing all our lives.” Then I said: “There is just one thing I can’t understand. You say it is the Lord’s law of blessing his people, and if it is, wouldn’t it be better to be blessed all their lives than just to be blessed for ten months?”
And he said: “Oh, Mr. Richards, we can’t go that far, yet!”
We could not build these beautiful buildings and carry on this great program of the Church if it rested upon the shoulders of men with their own capacity and ability.
I see it is time for me to close!
God bless you all. I thank him with all my heart and soul for the restoration of the gospel, for the restoration of the holy priesthood, for all the gifts and blessings that we enjoy by virtue thereof, including the gift of the Holy Ghost. When I was appointed a member of the Twelve, I said from this pulpit that I would rather have my children enjoy the companionship of the Holy Ghost than any other person or individual in this world; and I feel the same today, for them and for me, and for all of you, and I leave you my love and blessing in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

Forty-two years ago, Sister Henderson and I knelt at a beautiful blue alter in a small room in the Manti temple. The temple president asked us to look into his eyes as he pronounced words too sacred to repeat here. Through the sealing authority of the holy priesthood, he bound us on earth and sealed us in eternity as husband and wife, if we would be faithful to God and each other. We then stood and he asked us to hold hands and look into the mirrors that hung on opposite walls. There we saw the two of us in white, reflected a thousand times into infinity. We could not understand then as we do now, that the eternal reflections represented more than the two of us being together forever. Also represented in the mirrors were the eternal lives of children who were promised to us that awesome day.

Julia Nompi Nqubeni was born 20 December 1917, the youngest of five children. Her father, a school teacher, died when she was four. Her mother struggled to make a living as a school teacher and washer woman. In spite of poverty and other major obstacles, Julia pursued an education and began a teaching career. She eventually became one of the first black women in South Africa to become a school principal.