Gospel Story Finder

Several years after Brother Maeser’s death a proposal was made to construct a memorial building in his name, not downtown on University Avenue but high atop Temple Hill, where a new campus might be built consisting of as many as three or perhaps four buildings someday. The cost would be an astronomical $100,000, but the Maeser Building would be a symbol of the past, a statement of aspiring tradition, an anchor to the university’s future.

In spite of a staggering financial crisis clouding the very future of the university at the time, the faculty and student body took heart that in 1912 the Maeser Building was at least partially complete and the university would give diplomas to its first four-year graduating class. But even as graduation plans were being made, equally urgent plans were underway to sell the remainder of Temple Hill for the development of a new Provo suburb. The university simply had to have the money to survive. Eighteen members were graduating in this first four-year class, but even if the student body tripled in the years ahead, surely there would be more than enough room to accommodate them on the space now occupied by the Maeser, Brimhall, and Grant buildings on our present campus. Yes, the rest of the space on the hill should be sold. The graduation services would conclude with a sales pitch to the community leaders in attendance.

When Alfred Kelly was introduced that morning as the student graduation speaker, he rose and stood absolutely silent for several moments. Some in the audience thought he had lost the power of speech. Slowly he began to speak, explaining that he had been much concerned over his remarks, that he had written several versions and discarded every one of them.

Then, early one morning, he said, with a feeling of desperation regarding his approaching assignment, he walked north from his downtown apartment to where the partially completed Maeser Building stood (as Horace Cummings would later describe it) as an “air castle” come to earth on Temple Hill. He wanted to gain inspiration from this hope of a new campus, but he felt only grim disappointment. The sky was starting to glow from the morning light, but the darkly silhouetted Maeser Building seemed only a symbol of gloom.

Kelly then turned his eyes to view the valley below that was also still in shadow. The light from the rising sun was just beginning to illuminate the western hills back of Utah Lake with an unusual golden glow. As morning came, the light gradually worked down from the hilltops, moved across the valley floor, and slowly advanced to the spot where Kelly stood.

He said he partially closed his eyes as the light approached and was startled by what he could still see. He stood as if transfixed. In the advancing sunlight everything he saw took on the appearance of people, young people about his age moving toward Temple Hill. He saw hundreds of them, thousands of young people coming into view. He knew they were students, he said, because they carried books in their arms as they came.

Then Temple Hill was bathed in sunlight, and the whole of the present campus was illuminated not with one partially completed building, nor with homes in a modern subdivision, but rather what Kelly described to that graduating class as “temples of learning,” large buildings, beautiful buildings, hundreds of buildings covering the top of that hill and stretching clear to the mouth of Rock Canyon.

The students then entered these temples of learning with their books in hand. As they came out of them, Kelly said their countenances bore smiles of hope and of faith. He observed that they seemed cheerful and very confident. Their walk was light but firm as they again became a part of the sunlight as it moved to the top of Y Mountain, and then they gradually disappeared from view.

Kelly sat down to what was absolutely stone-deaf silence. Not a word was spoken. What about the sales pitch? No one moved or whispered. Then longtime BYU benefactor Jesse Knight jumped to his feet and shouted, “We won’t sell an acre. We won’t sell a single lot.” And he turned to President George Brimhall and pledged several thousand dollars to the future of the university. Soon others stood up and joined in, some offering only a widow’s mite, but all believing in the dream of a Provo schoolboy, all believing the destiny of a great university which that day had scarcely begun. (See B. F. Larsen, “Fifty Years Ago,” speech given at a BYU Alumni meeting, 25 May 1962, B.F. Larsen biographical file, BYU Archives, pp. 4–5.)

That Sunday, summer did not keep her promises. Instead of sunshine, menacing clouds promised rain for the day of our son’s baptism.
“It sure doesn’t feel like August,” murmured David as he climbed into the car to go to the lake. But when all the members were gathered on the beach, we all forgot that the sun had backed out on our celebration. Smiling proudly, my husband, Jose, led David into the still water.
I watched as my husband said the baptismal prayer and gently lowered our son into the water. I too smiled as I watched David rise out of the water to a new life.
My little son paddled to the bank, where he acknowledged his friends’ congratulations and allowed us to fuss over him with towels. He seemed to be lost in thought. Then he lifted his eyes to meet mine, gave me a big smile, and said proudly, “Wow, I’m finally a member of the true church!”
Now, as I looked down into his beaming face, I feel the Lord has a very special task planned for my son. David often speaks of his future mission. But, for now, his being baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has made us the happiest parents in the world.

On January 2, 1891, a 19-year-old Norwegian immigrant sat down in his home, in Logan City, Cache County, Utah Territory, and wrote the following lines on some lined paper:
“As I have come to fully realize; that, I am as weak as all other mortals—perhaps weaker than many; and realizing that happiness in life is only obtained by having a pure heart, a clear conscience; and fearing the Lord and keeping his commandments; also as I realize that happiness in old age consists of reviewing a life devoid from great sins; the gratification of noble desires manfully carried out; and finding that my life up to this time has not been as I should like it to have been: I lay down the following regulations by which I shall try to conduct my life hereafter; to which end may the Lord Almighty, my Creator, help me.”
He then wrote down 17 resolutions. Nearly eight months later, on Tuesday, August 25, 1891, he copied them in a hardcover journal. Here he was to record his years of struggle as a stranger-student from Utah Territory at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He began by entering the 17 resolves that were to guide his life.
“Resolved:
“1st. That religion, the science of sciences, be made my chief concernment throughout life.
“2nd. That I will daily pray to God in secret.
“3rd. That I will daily reflect upon God and his attributes and try to become like him.
“4th. That I will receive Light, Wisdom or Knowledge, wherever or however it may be offered.
“5th. That I will never be ashamed to acknowledge my principles, beliefs and religion when I once become fully convinced of their correctness …
“6th. That I will never lose one moment of time but use it wisely.
“7th. That I maintain strict temperance in eating and drinking.
“8th. That I will never do anything that I would not do were it the last hour of my life.
“9th. That I daily read the word of God, that I may learn his will and that I may be comforted, strengthened and encouraged by so doing.
“10th. That in any narrations I speak nothing but the pure and simple truth.
“11th. That I always do that which I think is my duty and for the best good for my fellow beings.
“12th. That I live with all my might while I do live, that I may not die a living death.
“13th. That I never by word or manner try to force my opinions on others but that I simply state them and offer my arguments against others.
“14th. That I seek to overcome the habit of quickly becoming angry, loud speaking, impatient motions, and whatever might offend my fellowmen and hurt me.
“15th. That I never for a moment forget my duty towards my mother, she who has made me who I am and who will make what I will become, she who has spent the better portion of her life in my behalf and to whom I owe all the honor, respect, and affection that I can give; also that I always remember my duties toward my brother and all my friends and relations.
“16th. That I complete every task which I begin: also that I carefully consider my purpose and its results before taking upon me any duty.
“17th. That I always remember that the men and women I meet are my brothers and sisters and that I look to the beam in my own eye before attempting to remove the mote in my fellow’s eye.” (See Matt. 7:5). It would be well if every young man and woman today would similarly evaluate his or her position in life.
The young man who wrote these lines was a student at the Brigham Young College in Logan when he first recorded them. The new year of 1891 was just beginning. A little over three months before, President Wilford Woodruff had issued, by revelation, the “Manifesto.” New opportunities awaited the driven, persecuted, misunderstood Latter-day Saints.
The young man’s name was John Andreas Widtsoe. He lived with his widowed mother and little brother in a small, poor cottage. They had come from Norway in 1884. On June 27, 1894, in Sanders Theater, in Harvard Yard, Cambridge, Massachusetts, President Charles W. Eliot of Harvard University conferred upon the young immigrant the degree, Bachelor of Science, summa cum laude (with highest honors). He completed the four-year curriculum in three years. He had undergone many hardships. His widowed mother and little brother had sent him small sums of money from their meager earnings. The rest of his education had been financed by unusual personal sacrifice and by loans from kind friends in Logan, with notes signed at 12 percent interest.
He returned home to Logan from Harvard to serve as chemist of the Agriculture Experiment Station, Logan, Utah. On June 1, 1898, he was married to a beautiful young woman, Miss Leah Dunford, eldest daughter of Susa Young Gates. The young couple went to Germany where he earned the PhD degree in biochemistry at the University of Gottingen. This was followed by postdoctoral studies at the Zurich Polytechnium in Switzerland and the University of London, in England.
While in Europe he was offered the presidency of the Brigham Young College by cablegram from the chairman of its board of trustees. A cablegram from President Joseph F. Smith of the First Presidency followed the next day, advising him not to accept the Brigham Young College presidency but to return to what is now Utah State University where he built up agricultural research, establishing scientific dry farming and irrigation practices to bless the arid lands of the world.
He became the father of scientific irrigation practices and dry farming. His books and articles were published in French, Italian, and Arabic and were widely used in arid regions throughout the world as well as in the United States and Canada. He was then called by the U.S. Secretary of the Interior to revise the reclamation laws and policies of the United States. He became the president of Utah State University in Logan, Utah (1907–1916) and the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, Utah (1916–1921). In March 1921 he was called to be an apostle by President Heber J. Grant and continued in that position throughout a long and eventful life. At his funeral in the Salt Lake Tabernacle in 1952, a telegram of appreciation for his great services to Canada was read; it was from the prime minister.
The life of John A. Widtsoe can serve as an example to every young man and young woman of the Church and of the world in these times, especially to those about to enter college, the world of work, and family life.
Recall his words:
“Realizing that happiness in life is only obtained by having a pure heart, a clear conscience; and fearing the Lord and keeping his commandments … I lay down the following regulations by which I shall try to conduct my life.”
Again, it would be well if all young men and women wrote down the regulations by which they desire to conduct their lives. Elder Widtsoe often counseled young people to “make promises. Then keep those promises.”
His commitment to the search for truth, for knowledge, was a notable landmark in the history of young Latter-day Saints. President of two state universities, he was also a member of the executive committee of Brigham Young University for many years and one of its guiding lights. He also served twice as Church Commissioner of Education. Fundamental as his commitment was to research and extending the fields of knowledge, his commitment to the Author of Truth, our Heavenly Father, and his faith in him was even greater. He recognized faith in the Lord Jesus Christ as not only the first principle of the gospel but also referred to such faith as “the greater knowledge.”
One of his poems, written as a Harvard student, now appears in LDS Hymns with a musical setting by Alexander Schreiner (“Lead Me Into Life Eternal”). Here one finds the lines, “Give me faith, the greater knowledge; Father hear me as I pray.” (No. 141.)
Can we overcome handicaps in these times? Can a person without money, family ties, or influence with people in high positions make his way in today’s world? Can we reconcile faith and knowledge?
We certainly can.
How?
By utilizing the same principles that Elder Widtsoe established for his life at a very early age. His example can be commended to all young men and young women today.
In his book “In Search of Truth,” Elder Widtsoe offered a formula we can follow. It served him well. It will serve anyone well. It is: “Work, work, work. Study, study, study. Pray, pray, pray.”

When I was 18, I was living in Lima, Peru, where I was born and raised. At that time my father came across a good friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.
My father was impressed that his friend looked younger and was well dressed. He asked his friend what had happened to him to create this transformation. “Did you just win the lottery?” he asked. The friend responded, “Well, something better than that. Now I am a Mormon, and I want to share the gospel with you and your family.”
My father thought his friend was joking, so he said, “OK, if you want to send your missionaries, do it.” But this man was very serious about it, and within a few days the missionaries came and knocked on our door. That was the beginning of a wonderful experience.
The missionaries taught us about the Book of Mormon and left a copy for us to read. This was during the summer, and I was on vacation for a couple of months after finishing my first year at the university. So I took the book that afternoon after the discussion and started to read it.
Page after page I read and read and read, and I couldn’t stop. There was this magic that came from the book. I love reading and had read many books, but this was different. I was captured by the book, and after I had read for several hours, my mother said, “Juan, turn off the light! Your brothers want to sleep.” And I said, “Yeah, just a moment, just a moment,” and I continued reading. Even after many hours of reading, I had no hunger, no thirst, and no desire for sleep.
Illustration by Brian Call
Before I finished the book, I knew that something special was in it. I had a testimony because of three things that I experienced as I was reading the book for the first time.
The first thing that happened to me during those hours was a profound feeling of peace that was different from anything I had experienced before. This feeling of peace was with me for several hours.
The second thing I experienced as I was reading was a feeling of joy. It was not the happiness I was used to having when I was with my friends or when I bought something I really liked. It was not a feeling of happiness; it was a feeling of joy. As I was reading, I began to cry and I realized, “Wow, I like this!”
And the third thing that I experienced was enlightenment. When I first started to read, it was difficult to understand because there were words like Nephi and Atonement that were unfamiliar to me. But after a few hours of reading, my mind was opened, and it was like there was light in my mind and I could comprehend more and more as I continued reading the book.
I learned later that those three experiences are some of the ways in which the Spirit manifests to us. I had received the Spirit, and I was ready to be baptized, but I needed to wait for the rest of my family to receive their own testimonies. Finally on April 6, 1972, my mother, my sister, and I were baptized. My father and my other two siblings were present and attentive to what we were going through, and a few months afterward, they were baptized too.

About a year ago, I had a letter from a woman who related this story. She said that she had married a man who was not a member of the Church. Together, they had had five children, and they had had a good life. But recently, their oldest daughter had come to them and said she was in love with a member of a polygamist family and she wanted to marry him. As a result, she was going to pull away from her own family and her religion. This mother was devastated. She said, "I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to handle this." It was her stake temple day that week and so she decided to go and spend the entire day in the temple. She started in the baptistery that morning. She said,
"I just began with a prayer in my heart and felt somehow the Lord would be mindful of my need and help me with this terrible problem."
Early in the day, a thought came into her mind, and she heard herself say these words to her daughter, "It will be very sad for us when someday we go to the temple as a family, and you are not with us." But she immediately brushed it aside, thinking, "There is no way I can make such a promise. My husband is not even a member of the Church." She spent the day doing some endowment sessions, and that thought continued to come to her. But each time this thought came, she discounted it. Late in the day, while participating in an ordinance, she said,
"I was just overcome with this sweet sense of gratitude. I knew that the Lord knew that we were having a problem. I didn't know what to do, but I knew the Lord knew, and He would help me."
And so it was in the ensuing weeks she had an opportunity to visit with her daughter. She said,
"In the course of the conversation, I heard myself saying the very words that had come to me that day in the temple. 'It will be very sad for us when we go to be sealed as a family, and you are not with us.'"
The remarkable thing is, the daughter responded. She found the courage to break up the relationship. And she is now engaged to a young Latter-Day Saint man, and they are now planning a temple marriage. She then added this postscript:
Last week, after nearly a year of learning the gospel through the love and patience of eight dedicated sister missionaries, my husband has finally arrived at a baptismal date.
This is a woman who paid attention to the thoughts that came into her mind and the feelings that came into her heart that day when she was in the temple. She then took those feelings and thoughts into her home, and she saved a daughter.

A few years ago I received an anonymous letter from a kindhearted dentist who demonstrated brotherly love and goodwill. I’d like to share it with you:
“Dear President Monson:
“I feel remiss in that I should have sent you a thank-you note sooner. Last December I listened to your talk given during the Christmas devotional. You spoke of an older woman who could not afford to pay for the registration for an automobile she had recently purchased. Others came to her aid. All involved were touched.
“I am a dentist by profession. Not long after the devotional, my receptionist informed me that an acquaintance of hers was coming into my office. She had problems with two of her teeth. She knew this woman and told me of her circumstances. The woman carried many burdens. The family business, which she ran, was doing poorly, and the family was three months behind in paying rent. They had five children, many grown into adulthood, but all had moved back home because of difficult personal circumstances. By sheer force of will, she had kept her family together for some time. Now two teeth were broken.
“The woman arrived for her appointment and explained about her dental problem. She asked if I would allow her to pay her bill over time. She explained to me that her family had experienced several financial reversals and were just recently starting to pay some overdue bills.
“I assured her that her credit was good with me. She asked if I could repair just one of the two broken teeth at that time. I assured her that I could, and we began.
“Since I had the time, I repaired both teeth, for which she was grateful. When the work was completed, thinking of your talk, I told her that if she would not be offended, I should like to make a Christmas present of the dental work, for which there would be no bill. She was astonished. I could sense the depth of the stress and strain she had carried, as uncontrollable tears of gratitude gushed forth due to a small, simple act of kindness. It must have been years since someone showed her some little favor. Not able to speak, she made her way out.
“Both my assistant and receptionist were so moved by her reaction that they also [shed] tears and could hardly speak. I, on the other hand, was doubly glad. One part, in seeing such a simple act have such a happy effect on another. And the second part, for once in my life having a patient in my office crying for joy and not for pain!
“To you, my very best wishes.
“Sincerely,
“A brother in the gospel.”

My companion and I were excited to open a new area for missionary work in a small town in Guatemala’s western highlands. Soon after our arrival, however, leaders and members of local churches began spreading wild stories about us. As a result, people began to fear us.
But Elder Todd Hinkins and I remained optimistic, especially after three families agreed to attend an open house about the Church. To help introduce them to the gospel, we planned to show them filmstrips about the Restoration.
When we tested our filmstrip projector before our meeting, however, the projector light bulb blew up. A power surge had apparently damaged our voltage converter. It could no longer convert 220 volts of electricity to the 110 volts we needed to power our projector.
"What now?" my companion and I lamented.
Brother Chavez, the only member of the Church who lived in town, told us that he thought the nuns in town had a voltage converter. So, while Brother Chavez drove to nearby Quetzaltenango to get another light bulb, we said a prayer and walked to the local convent.
We knocked, introduced ourselves, and explained our dilemma, wondering what the sisters would say. Without hesitation, they gave us their converter and wished us well. Brother Chavez soon returned, and we held our meeting.
To thank the nuns, Elder Hinkins and I made cookies for them. Shortly after we delivered the cookies, the nuns surprised us by inviting us to dinner.
We accepted.
A few days later, Elder Hinkins and I sat down for dinner at a beautifully set table surrounded by seven nuns. Five were from Canada, one was from the United States, and one was from Guatemala City.
During dinner we told them about the restored Church and our work as full-time missionaries. Then we gave them a Book of Mormon and bore our testimony of it. They thanked us and complimented us on our efforts to bring people to Christ.
In turn, they described some of the different "orders" of nuns. Then they told us about their labors and adjustment to living in the highlands.
With new eyes, I saw the nuns as kindred spirits with common goals, desires, and challenges. They were serving others, sacrificing for their faith, and dedicating their lives to God.
And our dinner? It was the best meal I had that year—shared by our friends, sisters from the Catholic Church.

Whenever a prayer is offered on a date, whether kneeling in your home or in the mountains, the important thing is to have faith and be in tune so that after your prayer is offered you are prepared to listen for and expect an answer. This is beautifully illustrated by the testimony of a young girl who attended summer camp. During her camping experience it was suggested by one of the leaders that the girls might want to find a private spot in nature where they could be by themselves and talk with God. Some weeks later in a fast and testimony meeting, Becky stood up and told about how she had found a private spot, knelt down in a quiet, wooded area surrounded by tall pines and a few quaking aspens, and offered a simple prayer: “Father in heaven, do you know I’m here?” She went on to tell how she waited and waited, and as a breeze fluttered the leaves, she opened her eyes to see the rays of sun filter through the trees. She said a feeling came over her, and with deep emotion these were her words, “You may not think it was anything, but I knew He knew I was there.”

As you seek earnestly for direction you will want to remember the admonition given in the Doctrine and Covenants: “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers.” (D&C 112:10.) And finally, in paraphrasing the words of Becky’s testimony regarding prayer, “There may be some who will not think it is anything, but you will know that He knows that you are there.”

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Great news, guys. Your cousin Anthony is home from his mission, and we’ve been invited to a family dinner this Saturday.
AT THE DINNER
Was your mission fun, Anthony—I mean … er … Elder Edwards?
Yes, it was! Fun and rewarding and inspiring and wonderful!
And was it ever … hard?
Absolutely! Hard and sometimes scary and discouraging and just about impossible. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
That bad?
Bad? Not at all! Great things are never easy. Why should they be? Almost every day I faced challenges that I didn’t feel up to. And sometimes I wasn’t—at first. But do you know what I learned?
What?
That Elder Edwards could do things that Anthony could never have imagined. Because Elder Edwards had been called of God and given authority to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. You see, I wasn’t just Anthony anymore.
It wasn’t really me doing those things. It was mostly Heavenly Father working through me, and He can do anything. I just had to be willing and do my very best. He did the rest. Sound like something you’d like to try someday?
Yes! But I think I’ve got a lot to learn first.
I’ll get you your very own copy of Preach My Gospel, and we can look at it together.

Everyone likes to feel the support of friends and loved ones, and bishops are no exception. When Bishop Robert Stevens of the Mountain View 11th Ward, West Jordan Utah Mountain View Stake, faced his first Sunday at church sporting a new “hairdo”—he had lost his hair because of chemotherapy he is undergoing—the deacons and teachers decided to show their support in an unusual way.
“We shaved our heads so that my dad wouldn’t feel out of place,” says Jonathan Stevens, the bishop’s 13-year-old son. “We wanted it to be a surprise, so we all had to hide from him until Sunday at church. I could tell it made him feel really good, and we all felt great too.”
The bishop is expecting a full recovery.

My dear wife, Naume, is a great strength to me. Over the years, she has taught me to turn to the Lord in all things. I have seen her exercise the faith to go and the faith to stay.

Shortly after we were married, I was called to preside over a group in Mbizo Township, which subsequently became a branch. We lived in Newtown, which was about 15 kilometers (9.3 miles) from the Mbizo meetinghouse.

Naume and I did not always have money for transportation to and from Mbizo, so we walked to church and back home almost every Sunday. Even when Naume was expecting our first child, Rosemary, she made the long walk to church. She was serving as Primary president at the time. After our meetings, she sat and waited patiently while I interviewed members of the branch. Then we walked home together.

Naume had faith to go.

In 1999, I was serving as the Harare Zimbabwe District president. By that time, I had a good job. Naume and I bought land in Norton, which was about a 40-minute drive from Harare, and we built a nice three-bedroom home on that land. We were excited to begin our new life in Norton. Our plan was to eventually build a bigger home on the property.

When the mission president learned about our plan to move from Harare, he counseled us not to leave. I reasoned that it was too expensive for us to stay in Harare. We continued to pursue our plans to move. A visiting General Authority also counseled us to stay in Harare. He suggested that we rent our house in Norton while continuing to live in Harare. I again said that it was too expensive to live in Harare. If we remained there, we would not be able to build the larger house we had planned.

On the way home from our conversation with the General Authority, Naume asked me why I was being so stubborn. I responded that our leaders did not seem to understand our situation. She said that she would support me only if I was willing to follow our Church leaders’ counsel. We remained in Harare, and we were richly blessed because of that decision.

I’m grateful that Naume had faith to stay.

Our quest should always be to learn the Lord’s will and align ourselves with it. As I reflect on my struggles to do this, I see that my problem has been pride. Either I have been too concerned about temporal things or I have lacked the humility to see myself as the Lord sees me. I have often worried too much about what I want to receive and not enough about what I can give as an instrument in the Lord’s hands. As a result, I have sometimes been too slow to go where He wants me to go and too stubborn to stay when He wants me to stay.

As we align ourselves with the Lord’s will, we find that our life gains more meaning. Our motivations change. Rather than seeking compensation, we seek opportunities to make a difference in the lives of people in our family, at church, at work, and in the community. Our desired rewards also change. Rather than looking for personal acclaim, we hope for the satisfaction and joy of knowing that our time in this mortal life is well spent—that through us, the Lord is blessing others.

If the veil were opened to us and we could see eternity, we would all rally behind the Lord and follow His example. We would find it easier to work with energy and passion to make a difference in the world. But an open veil would defeat the purpose of why we are here. It would remove the need to “walk by faith, not by sight.”4

As it is, we have the privilege of learning to receive and follow the Lord’s voice. Sometimes He commands us—as He commanded the Israelites who were trapped between the Red Sea and Pharaoh’s pursuing army—to “fear ye not, stand still.”5 Soon after that, he might command us—as He commanded them—to “go forward” immediately.6 If we have faith to go and faith to stay, we will, like the Israelites, “see the salvation of the Lord,”7 in our lives and in the lives of those we love.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is one inch the first time, two inches the second time, and three inches the third time. After several trials he settles on three inches as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three inches, then two inches, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one inch.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three inches,” and Susan counters with “one inch.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two inches each time.
Few of us are ever invited into an experimental laboratory to share our opinions, but each day of our lives we are required to make important judgments in the laboratory of life. Sometimes we tend to forget some important eternal truths. For example, “the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil.” The Lord assured us that if we are responsive to his spirit, he will “show [us] the way to judge” (Moro. 7:16). The Savior also referred to himself as “the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12). This light never moves, and if it appears to move from us, we are the ones who have moved.
Sometimes in everyday life, just as in the darkened laboratory, we lose our perspective as familiar landmarks vanish. We think the light has moved. One of the ways we move from the light of Christ is in engaging in the “Not As Bad As Game.” You know how it goes:
“I swear a lot, but I never take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“I don’t pay a full tithing, but at least I pay something.”
“I go to a few questionable movies, but never to an X-rated movie.”
“Necking isn’t as bad as petting.”
“Sure, I cheat on my income tax, but not as bad as other people.”
“I don’t consider it gossip when I’m only telling the truth.”
“If what I wear is a little extreme, it’s not as bad as what others at school wear.”
And so, in the words of our beloved friend Nephi, “thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
Although the light never moves, the more often we are in contact with that which is abnormal, degrading, and undesirable, the more normal and desirable it begins to appear. We become less sensitive to the promptings of the still, small voice. In that same great epistle which motivated the boy prophet Joseph to seek the Lord in prayer, the Apostle James shared some great insights into this process:
“Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.
“Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man:
“But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.
“Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death. …
“Wherefore lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and receive with meekness the engrafted word, which is able to save your souls” (James 1:12–15, 21).
Youth of the noble birthright, you have been lovingly commanded to “shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).
Remember, the light never moves.

“My mother opened a little country store to help keep our family financially afloat. I worked with her in the store quite a bit. She taught me about respecting and serving people. Once, when I was fourteen, my mom and dad went to Salt Lake City for a conference and left me to mind the store. The Hutterites in our area wouldn’t go to the bank to cash their huge grain checks, so Mom was a bonded payor, and we would sometimes have thousands of dollars in the store safe. I knew the combination to the safe, and I knew that my parents trusted me, so I opened and closed the store on time and took care of customers.”

John lingered in the hall before deciding to get it over with. He was sorry he had even come. His mother had talked him into it, saying, “After all he is the bishop, and if he wants to see you the least you can do is go.”
He’s going to say he hasn’t seen me at church lately, John thought as he idly gazed at the bulletin board in the hall, and they’d like me to help on some project, and I’ll tell him I’m too busy right now, and he’ll say they really need me and then I’ll leave, and it’ll be over for another six months.
He knocked on the door and Bishop Warren invited him in.
Now some small talk to loosen me up, John thought.
The bishop asked about his schooling to become an auto mechanic. John answered in two words. Then the bishop asked about his mother and dad, but John curtly reminded him that the man with his mother was his stepfather, not his real father.
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you here,” the bishop said.
Here it comes, John thought.
“God has called you on a mission.”
The silence roared through his ears.
“I don’t want to go on a mission,” John said.
“That’s between you and God. My job is to tell you that you’ve been called.”
He didn’t tell me how much they need me, John thought, stunned and off balance.
“I’m not going.”
“It doesn’t matter that much to me personally if you go or not,” the bishop said, “but I want you to realize that God has called you on a mission.”
“This is just a gimmick to get me to shape up, isn’t it?” John said.
“Is it?” the bishop asked.
“Sure, that’s what it is.”
“Why don’t you pray and ask if it’s a gimmick?”
“I don’t need to pray because I’m not going.”
“Tell that to God then, but not to me. Before you decide though, I have some scriptures on this card I want you to read. Will you do that?”
John avoided the question and took the card. “Is that all you wanted to say?”
As he drove from the church, his mind boiled with anger at the bishop. He wants me to go on a mission so it’ll look good on his report, he thought as he slammed the car into second gear, so he makes up a story about God calling me. Well, he’s not fooling me.
He had his life planned, and it didn’t include a mission. First he’d get a job as a mechanic, then marry Jill and settle down. That’s what he wanted in life, and a mission didn’t fit in. Besides, he wasn’t even going to church or living the way the Church taught. Ever since his father had died and his mother remarried a nonmember, none of them had gone to church.
A few minutes later he parked his car in front of the truck stop cafe where Jill worked and went inside. As he sat down at the empty counter, she brought him a cup of coffee, and then poured herself one.
“Well?” she asked with a grin.
“Well what?”
“What did the bishop say?”
“He said God’s called me on a mission.”
She barely got her coffee swallowed before bursting out with laughter.
“You—on a mission? Boy, that’s a laugh.”
“I’m not going.”
“Did you tell him you were going to marry me?” she asked.
“I don’t have to tell him anything. I just said I wasn’t going.”
“But you are going to marry me in June—right? I mean you’re not inventing this story about a mission just to get out of it, are you?”
“I said I’d marry you,” he snapped. “How many times do I have to say it?”
“You’re so romantic,” she said sarcastically.
Another customer came in, and she left to get the order. In a few minutes she was back again.
“This coffee tastes rotten,” he complained. “What’d you do, make it with dishwater?”
She took a sip. “It tastes okay.”
“It’s not okay—it’s terrible.”
“Don’t drink it then. See if I care.”
Another customer drifted in. While he waited for her to come back, he tried to doctor up his coffee by pouring cream and sugar in it, but no matter what he did, it always tasted like burnt rags soaked in dishwater. Finally he put so much cream in that it ended up a chalky white lukewarm disaster. He reached over and dumped it down the drain.
A few minutes later it was quitting time for Jill. As they walked to the car, he asked, “How about going with me to the Longhorn for a beer?”
“On a Tuesday? What’s the occasion?”
“I just feel like it. Besides they have that western band playing there this week.”
“You never drink on weekdays, so why do you want to now? Trying to prove how bad you are so God will let you off the hook about a mission?”
“Quit talking about that. It’s over and done with.”
“I don’t see why you’re so uptight. They’d never send anyone like you on a mission.”
“What about going with me to the Longhorn?”
“Count me out. If you start drinking on Tuesdays, you’re going to end up an alcoholic.”
“Forget it then. I’ll go without you.”
“Suits me fine. You’re in a bad mood, and I don’t want to be around you anyway.”
He took her home and went to the Longhorn, a small place on the highway that served beer mainly to the just-out-of-high-school crowd.
While he was there, two guys came in. For one of them it was his 18th birthday, and they were celebrating by drinking one beer after another as fast as they could until one got sick and the manager made them clean it up, which made the other sick.
John walked out, saying to the one huddled on his knees pushing a towel over the floor, “That’s so clever the way you did that.”
At home in his bedroom he took off his shirt and found the three-by-five card in the pocket with a large handwritten message, “God has called you on a mission. Pray about it.”
He threw the card into the wastepaper basket, turned off the light, and went to bed.
He couldn’t sleep. After two hours of tossing, he sat up in bed and said out loud, “God, I’m not going. So just forget it. Amen.”
On Friday night there was a party for a group of mechanics and instructors involved in the training program. They met at a place called Al’s Oasis.
About 11 that night, one of the instructors, a man named Wayne, got into a fight with his wife. As it heated up, they said things to each other that shouldn’t have been heard by the group. His wife got mad and called a taxi. Wayne got drunker and more obnoxious. A while later he came and asked Jill to dance, but she said no and that made him furious. John told him to get away from her. Wayne tried to hit him, but he ducked and planted his fist solidly in Wayne’s stomach, causing him to double over and fall down.
Two of Wayne’s friends started to make noises about getting even with John. He thought he could handle them but was worried about Jill’s safety if there was a brawl. He grabbed her hand, and they ran out the back door to the car. As they drove away, John saw another car pull out after them, and he knew there might be trouble.
He had done enough deer hunting in the area to know the back roads, so after a few shortcuts, he lost the car behind them, but he kept going for several miles to make sure they wouldn’t find him.
Half an hour later they ran out of gas on a little-used country road. He knew they would have to walk into town.
It was a beautiful clear night with the stars filling the night sky. It had been a long time since John had looked at the stars.
He didn’t say much for the first few minutes of walking, until she finally asked what he was thinking about.
“Them,” he answered.
“Who?”
“Wayne and his wife—the way they were yelling at each other, the way he was drinking.”
“What about it?”
“That’s the way we’ll be in a few years.”
“Is it?” she asked.
“Sure—we argue now, don’t we? And I drink too much. Sure, we’ll be just like them—if we stay married. But maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll get a divorce.”
“You are getting cold feet about marrying me, aren’t you?”
“I’m getting cold feet about ending up like them. There must be more to life than that.”
“What do you want, you know, in life?”
“I want to be the best mechanic in town. I’m good at it, and I like it. And I want some sons to take fishing and hunting. And I want a house and a pickup truck.”
“Anything else?”
“If we marry, I want it to last.”
“Me too,” she said. “If we’re married, I want you to be faithful to me. I don’t want my life to run like a soap opera.”
They walked a ways in silence, both of them feeling awkward at being so serious.
“John,” she asked, “suppose we have sons. Will you let them go to Primary?”
“Why not? It can’t hurt’em—at least while they’re small.”
“How about Sunday School?”
“If it doesn’t interfere with me taking them fishing and hunting.”
“You can fish on Saturdays.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he said.
She waited several seconds before getting courage to ask, “What’d be wrong if we started going to church?”
“What for?”
“For our future sons and daughters, so we can learn. Mormons know how to raise good families, and that’s what we want, isn’t it?”
“I’m not going,” he said bitterly. “If you start, the first thing you know they ask you to do something, and before you know it, your whole life is spent at church. I don’t want to get into that.”
“Can we go for a few times just to see if it’s as bad as we think it is?”
He looked at her, shook his head, and gave in.
“All right, we’ll try it for a couple weeks, but that’s all.”
On Sunday they went to church, and even John had to admit it was okay. While they were there, he studied the missionaries sitting with one of the families they were teaching.
No way, he thought to himself.
On Wednesday he asked Jill if she would go drinking with him on Saturday night.
“I don’t want to go.”
“Why not?”
“I thought we were going back to church,” she said.
“What’s going to church have to do with enjoying a beer now and then?”
“You’re the one who’s always saying people who go to church are hypocrites, so now you want to be one too. Is that the way it is?”
“I agreed to go to church, but that’s all. I’ll drink when I want, and nobody’s going to tell me to stop!”
“I will, John. You better stop drinking.”
On Saturday night he went without her. A little past midnight he got into an argument about religion with the guy next to him, who was an atheist. John tried to convince him about God.
“There’s a God,” John said.
“Prove it.”
“Look at the flowers. You think that just happened?”
“Yeah, that’s what I think.”
“You’re crazy, you know that. Flowers don’t just happen,” John said, slamming down his mug for emphasis.
“What do you know about God anyway? What’s he to you?”
John stared at the empty mug, it’s promise of happiness gone, leaving only an empty froth, full of air with no substance. That’s when he became very depressed.
“What’s wrong with you?” the guy next to him asked.
“God wants me to be a Mormon missionary.”
The guy laughed so hard he fell off the chair.
At three in the morning, John drove to the church parking lot and stumbled onto the lawn in front of the chapel.
“Hey, are you there?” he yelled, looking up at the steeple. “Look at me! I’m drunk! Do you see that? Isn’t that disgusting? That’s why I can’t go on a mission—so quit bugging me about it! Look, I’d like to help you out, but you’ve got the wrong person. I’m not a good person. I’m rotten—rotten to the core.”
He sat down on the lawn and started to cry again. Among the sobs he pleaded, “All I want you to do is tell the bishop you were wrong about a mission for me. Then just let me be me—no good rotten John.”
After that he must have crawled into the car and fallen asleep, because the next thing he remembered was the slamming of a car door next to him. He woke up and looked around. It was early morning. Standing next to him looking into the car was Bishop Warren.
“You’re here early this morning for church,” the bishop said.
John’s mouth felt as if somebody had driven a cattle truck through it all night, and his head ached.
“Bishop, last night I was drinking, and I came here to get a message to God that he made a mistake about calling me on a mission. I’m not good enough to do anything in this church.”
“Do you believe now that God wants you to go on a mission?”
He looked up and said quietly, “I guess I do, but it’s too late. I’ve made too many mistakes.”
“John, you’ve got to learn to repent now. Let’s go to my office, and I’ll give you a thorough interview.”
He was too tired to argue. As he opened the car door, two empty cans rolled onto the parking lot, making a loud noise. He stepped gingerly from the car, picked up the cans, tossed them in the front seat, and stumbled after the bishop.
In the office, he sat rigidly in his chair, feeling that the room was leaning over to one side. The bishop asked him question after question, and it was embarrassing to answer them truthfully, but he wanted the bishop to know everything about himself.
After the last question, the bishop was silent for a moment and then said, “John, you’ve disappointed the Lord.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Before you were born, he called you to serve a mission, and you agreed. But now, unless you repent in a major way, you’ll lose that opportunity. We don’t send young men on missions unless they’re clean.
“The time to start repenting is now. Let me write down the things you need to work on. If you can turn your life around, you can still serve a mission, but it’ll take a while to demonstrate your obedience.”
“How long?” he asked.
“Maybe a year.”
“That’s a long time, bishop.”
“A year’s a year, whether you repent or not. And if you don’t repent, where will you be after a year?” The bishop’s list filled two pages.
“I’ll see you next week at this same time, and we’ll see how you’re doing. Priesthood meeting starts in an hour, so you better get home and change.”
He hurried home and got ready, making it back just in time. After Sunday School, he talked to Jill.
“I was surprised to see you here this morning,” she said.
“Jill, I’m going on a mission.”
“Sure you are,” she laughed.
“No, I mean it.”
She looked at him as if for the first time. “Why?”
“God wants me to go.”
She looked at him for a long time before saying, “I think I’m seeing a part of you I never knew existed—the part you tried to hide from everyone.”
She pursed her lips, closed her eyes for a second, and then tried to smile. “Well, so much for a June wedding—right?”
“It’s just a year and a half, and when we get married, it’ll be in the temple.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “You and me—regular church people. Who’d ever have thought it?”
“What will you do while I’m gone?” he asked.
It took courage for her to even say it. “You know what? Nobody in my family ever went to college. What if I went to Ricks College, maybe just for a year, you know, just to say I’ve gone? I think I’d like to do that.”
“Jill, have you talked to the bishop?”
“No, why?”
“You ought to and when you do, ask him for the thorough interview. He writes down a list of things to work on, and you go back in a week to report how you’ve done.”
So for the next few months, they both repented.
Six months later on a Sunday he watched a guy in faded Levi’s and western shirt burst from the bishop’s office laughing as he headed toward the door. John asked him what was so funny and was told that the bishop had said that God had called him on a mission.
“Isn’t that stupid?” the guy howled. “I don’t even go to church.”
So it was a gimmick after all, John angrily thought as he stormed into the bishop’s office.
“How many others have you told God called them on a mission?” he snapped.
“All of them between the ages of 18 and 25.”
“I believed you when you told me! I didn’t know it was just hype to drum up more missionaries!”
“Let’s talk about it, John,” the bishop said in an even tone.
“I’m tired of talking to you!” he said, whirling toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To get drunk!” he yelled, heading outside with the bishop right behind him.
“You can’t go back to the way you were.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because now you have a testimony. Don’t you?”
He stopped just before reaching his car and thought about the past six months.
The bishop was right. He had a testimony that the Church was true. He couldn’t go back to the way he had been.
Inside the office, the bishop pulled out a worn copy of the New Era and read parts of a talk by President Kimball: “‘Should every young man … fill a mission?’ … The answer the Lord has given [is] ‘Yes, every worthy young man should fill a mission.’ The Lord expects it of him. And if he is not now worthy to fill a mission, then he should start at once to qualify himself.”
The bishop put down the magazine.
“But I thought you meant God wanted me personally to serve a mission.”
“John, I’ve fasted and prayed about what I told you. God does want you to serve a mission. If you doubt it, fast and pray about it too.”
He did pray and fast, and that helped him feel more assured the bishop was right, but the complete answer didn’t come until three months later.
He had continued to drop by the cafe near Jill’s quitting time, where he had his nightly cup of hot chocolate. One night she said, “Why don’t you come with Cindy and me next Saturday? We’re going to get a patriarchal blessing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Cindy’s more says it’s personal revelation to help a person live his life. Will you take us? We have to go out of town to where the patriarch lives, and we were hoping you’d drive us. You could get a blessing too, but first you’ll have to get an interview from the bishop.”
“That’s no problem,” he smiled. “It seems like the past year has been one continuous interview.”
When he went for his interview, he brought the worn pages of repentance goals the bishop gave him on his first thorough interview. One by one, day by day over the months since then, he had checked each item.
After the interview, the bishop gave him a recommend for his patriarchal blessing and said, “John, you’re clean now.”
On Saturday the three of them drove to the stake center, where they met the patriarch who talked with them for a few minutes before giving each of them a blessing.
As the patriarch laid his hands on John’s head and began, it was like a cleansing shower of light and joy washing away the bad opinions he’d had about himself. As a child he was the boy who believed himself to be a bad boy, a mischievous boy, an average boy, a low achiever, a trouble-maker, a bad example. He found out that if you believe that about yourself then your life matches what you believe. Even at first when he tried to repent, underneath it seemed artificial, as if he were only putting on an act of goodness but deep down was still rotten and would be forever. But now as the patriarch gave him a blessing, he felt strongly that God was his Father in Heaven and that as a son in the premortal existence he had once been greatly loved and trusted.
He knew he was crying and that tears were rolling in small rivers down his face, and he knew Jill and Cindy knew it too; but he didn’t care because, for the first time in his life, he knew his true relationship to God.
The patriarch told him that Father in Heaven had called him to serve a mission, which was what the bishop had said, except this time, John knew it was true.
After the blessing, he sat in the chair, wiped his eyes, and, a little embarrassed, asked Jill for a tissue.
That’s how John came to go on a mission, and why Jill saved some money and quit the cafe and went to Ricks. Sometimes she’d be listening to a lecture when she would suddenly realize where she was and she’d think, Look at me! I’m in college and I never thought I’d be, and I’m smart enough to understand what the professor is saying, and I bet there’s a hundred other things I can do that once seemed impossible. I’m going to stay active and live the commandments and be married in the temple. Nobody around here, no bishop or other priesthood leader, has ever said my past mistakes were too great or that it’s too late for me to repent. All that’s important is that we start today and repent and live the commandments, and the Savior will take care of the rest.
John worked harder on his mission than ever before in his life. When he first started out, he thought what a great sacrifice it was to take 18 months to serve the Lord. But as his mission progressed he learned you can’t really sacrifice to the Lord because the more you give, the more he blesses you, and when you finish, you are more indebted to him than ever before.
Sometimes on his mission he and his companion would see an auto repair shop and stop. Inside John always looked for the meanest-looking mechanic there who was about his age, and he would walk up to him and say, “God sent me here to talk to you.” The guy usually swore and went back to his work on a car. John would lean over the other side of the hood, peering into the engine to watch him work, and little by little he would explain the message God had for that mechanic.
During his mission it only happened once that the mechanic ended up joining the Church, but John thought it was great that one did because, as he used to say, Father in Heaven needs all the mechanics he can get.
“Otherwise,” he’d say with a broad grin, “in heaven, who’s going to service all those chariots?”

I know of one girl named Diana who will always appreciate what a good friend did for her without being asked during a critical period of her life. When she was 17, Diana became extremely and chronically depressed. Her depression was so severe that she eventually required medical attention. When her friend Rachel learned of this, she made quietly sure that she was available whenever Diana needed her. To this day Diana maintains that the phone calls, long walks, tennis matches, and lengthy conversations on a variety of subjects, including her illness, were instrumental in helping her return to full health and activity.

A father or a bishop or a senior home teaching companion who shows that he trusts a young priesthood holder can change his life. My father was once asked by a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to write a short paper on science and religion. My father was a famous scientist and a faithful priesthood holder. But I can still remember the moment he handed me the paper he had written and said, “Here, before I send this to the Twelve, I want you to read it. You will know if it is right.” He was 32 years older than me and immeasurably more wise and intelligent.

I still am strengthened by that trust from a great father and priesthood man. I knew that his trust was not in me but that God could and would tell me what was true. You seasoned companions can bless a young priesthood holder in preparation whenever you can show him that kind of trust. It will help him trust the gentle feeling of inspiration for himself when it comes as he someday places his hands to seal the blessing to heal a child the doctors say will die. That trust has helped me more than once.

Mom laughed. “Well, we don’t have any of those. But we do have other awesome ancestors who did pioneering things. Like your Great-Grandma Luisa.”
Gabby smiled. “I love hearing stories about your grandma! She grew up on a farm in Spain, right?”
Mom nodded. “Then she moved to Argentina and started her own business. Even though she never had a chance to finish school, she made sure her children got a good education.”
As the sauce simmered, they sat at the kitchen table, and Mom told Gabby more stories about Grandma Luisa. She was a gardener and talked to her flowers. Whenever she went on a trip, the flowers would wilt a little, just because they missed her.
“And the most important thing to remember about Grandma Luisa is her faith,” Mom said. “She would pray out loud as she did dishes, as she cooked, as she gardened … she loved talking to God!”

Before I became president of the Church, I was assigned as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to visit some of the countries of South America for various gatherings with the Saints. We were received well by the countries, by their officials, and by the press.
I was interested in a comment made by a representative of one of the largest papers in Brazil. She had heard my sermon the day before, on Sunday, in which I had spoken rather strongly about the restoration of the gospel. She asked me why Christ was crucified.
I answered: “Because he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”
And her next remark shocked me: “He should not have said it, should he? He really was not, was he?”
I thought she was joking. I looked into her eyes for a moment and thought she was going to smile. But she did not. And I said firmly: “He said he was the Son of God because he was the Son of God.”
Later I read an article in the Easter paper of one of the largest cities in South America. The author was a minister with letters after his name. I read the entire article and in the half a page given front page notice, he never mentioned the Lord of heaven and earth, the Redeemer, the Savior. He always spoke of “Jesus.” He quoted two or three scriptures which mentioned Jesus of Nazareth as being more than the carpenter’s son, but never in his writing did he ever give any other title to the Christ who shed his precious blood for him.
During the same trip, I asked 400 missionaries gathered in a meeting, “What think ye of Christ and the claims that are made?” And I heard 400 inspiring testimonies from youth—sure testimonies, ringing with conviction.
I am reminded of what Paul said: “And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God.
“For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:1–2).
I could not see how we could really celebrate an Easter without discussing the Lord Jesus Christ. Why even the devils know that Jesus is the Christ. On one occasion the devils came crying out and saying, “Thou art Christ the Son of God. And he rebuking them suffered them not to speak: for they knew that he was Christ” (Luke 4:41). On another occasion “the evil spirit answered and said, Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are ye?” (Acts 19:15). And another time, “they cried out saying, What have we to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God? art thou come hither to torment us before the time?” (Matt. 8:29).
I believe that there was a considerable conviction in the heart of Pilate, who was constrained by his conscience to let the Savior go free, but because of political ambitions and other reasons, in spite of his wife’s importuning, he delivered him to be crucified. But even after that, he wrote on the cross in three languages—Hebrew, Greek, and Latin—this famous statement: “Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews.” The Jews, offended, came and said:
“Write not, The King of the Jews; but that he said, I am King of the Jews.
“Pilate answered, What I have written I have written” (see John 19:19–22).
You have read of Nathanael, the man without guile, who said, as he saw the Christ: “Rabbi, thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel” (John 1:49).
Paul had hardly made his transformation, had just barely received back his sight from his unusual experience when he went straightway into the synagogues and preached Christ, “that he is the Son of God.”
Why will the divines of the day purposely avoid the names of the Deity whom they would choose to call only Jesus? There are tens of thousands of Jesuses in the world. In all the Spanish-speaking countries you find them on every hand. They pronounce it Ha-sús, but it is Jesus. But there was only one Jesus who became the Prince of Light, the Author of our salvation.
Joseph Smith said: “I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation” (JS—H 1:25).
You remember what Peter said when the disciples were asked, “Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?” They spoke up and said men thought him to be Elias or one of the other prophets, and then the Lord said again, and I can imagine his piercing eyes, wondering and expectant eyes, “But whom say ye that I am?” And the answer was one of the most stirring and glorious of all statements made, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And the next statement must never be overlooked: “Flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven” (see Matt. 16:13–17). In other words, man has not told you this, but my Father has revealed it unto thee; a great revelation has come unto thee, and thou knowest it.
I asked 400 missionaries the Lord’s question which faces every man, woman, and child on this earth: “Whom do ye say that I the Son of man am?” And I was gratified at the hundreds of replies saying “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
And that is my testimony to you, that Jesus is indeed the Christ, the living Son of the living God.

Recently I was able to travel with more than 100 other young men and young women from the Hamburg Germany Stake to the Frankfurt Germany Temple to do baptisms for the dead and to attend a youth conference. Maybe it was because I was 13 and had unrealistic expectations, but the trip didn’t start out exactly as I had thought it would.
We stayed in a youth hostel in Bad Homburg. The hostel is a really old building with dim rooms and old furniture. It seemed that the knights of old had slept in those beds. Some of the youth in our group, who had expected the comforts of home, were disappointed by their first impressions and wanted to go home.
Our leaders tried to encourage us by reminding us that we were here to serve people who had lived on this earth before us—people who were waiting for us to be baptized for them in the temple.
Our feelings began to improve as we became involved in the activities and workshops of the conference. Each morning we had a devotional in which many of our personal questions were answered. And one evening we had a fireside with Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Seventy, a member of our Area Presidency. He encouraged us to write down the goals we wanted to work on during the coming year. We put the letters in envelopes and addressed them to ourselves. In a year, we will receive these letters. I am already working toward reaching my goals.
During the rest of the trip, I didn’t hear anything else about going home. As we became more unified in our purpose, the worldly environment as well as the just-for-fun activities became less and less important. For example, we had planned to hold a social one night, but it lost its excitement for me.
I frequently had the feeling that a lot of us had come on the temple trip actually hungry for spiritual experiences. Many of us had those righteous desires fulfilled by our experiences in the temple. Tears of gratitude were shed, and friendships became stronger. Nowhere on this earth have I felt closer to Heavenly Father than in the baptistry. How marvelous it will be when I can go to the temple to receive my own endowment and enter the celestial room! I don’t know when that will happen, but I am already looking forward to it. I now know that I want to return to the Lord’s house often.
Some of my friends who came to the conference hadn’t prepared themselves to attend the temple. They quickly realized that next time they don’t want to come just for the activities; they want to be able to enter the temple.
At our closing testimony meeting, we felt a spirit of unity. All testimony meetings when we are together as youth are wonderful, but this one was something special. Some of us shared special feelings we had experienced in the temple; others who want to come back to the Church or to make peace with their families or to feel close to Heavenly Father also shared their feelings.
At the youth conference and in the temple, we felt the Spirit of the Holy Ghost. When we returned home, we took many memories with us—not of our uncomfortable accommodations, but of the Spirit we had felt in our hearts.

After church one Sunday, I took home some pass-along cards. I had some friends at school who weren’t LDS, and I wanted to give them a card the next day. That night I started to feel nervous, so I got on my knees and said a prayer. I felt better and braver, and the next day I gave the cards to my friends. They really liked them, and I felt very happy that I gave the cards to them.
Ava M., age 8, Utah, USA