Gospel Story Finder

Joseph Hamstead, a lecturer at London University, had talked about the Church and its youth and family programs to fellow lecturers at that great university. One of them said: “I like all of this, what is being done for families, etc. If you could take out that bit about an angel appearing to Joseph Smith, I could belong to your church.” Brother Hamstead replied, “Ah, but if you take away the angel appearing to the Prophet Joseph, then I couldn’t belong to the Church because that is its foundation.”

When the day finally came to return to the hill, Joseph went alone. Without Alvin, he was unsure if the Lord would trust him with the plates. But he thought he could keep every commandment the Lord had given him, as his brother had counseled. Moroni’s instructions for retrieving the plates were clear. “You must take them into your hands and go straight to the house without delay,” the angel had said, “and lock them up.”30

At the hill, Joseph pried up the rock, reached into the stone box, and lifted out the plates. A thought then crossed his mind: the other items in the box were valuable and ought to be hidden before he went home. He set the plates down and turned to cover the box. But when he returned to the plates, they were gone. Alarmed, he fell to his knees and pleaded to know where they were.

Moroni appeared and told Joseph that he had failed to follow directions again. Not only had he set the plates down before safely securing them, he had also let them out of his sight. As willing as the young seer was to do the Lord’s work, he was not yet able to protect the ancient record.

Joseph was disappointed in himself, but Moroni instructed him to return for the plates the following year. He also taught him more about the Lord’s plan for the kingdom of God and the great work beginning to roll forth.

Still, after the angel left, Joseph slunk down the hill, worried what his family would think when he came home empty handed.31 When he stepped inside the house, they were waiting for him. His father asked at once if he had the plates.

“No,” he said. “I could not get them.”

“Did you see them?”

“I saw them but could not take them.”

“I would have taken them,” Joseph Sr. said, “if I had been in your place.”

“You do not know what you say,” Joseph said. “I could not get them, for the angel of the Lord would not let me.”32

Andy Mair has heard many of the stories about sacrifices made in building the first Nauvoo Temple. He knows about the men and boys who cut stone by hand, hauled heavy loads with just horses and mules, went without good food and clothing, and spent every minute they could building a beautiful House of the Lord.
Andy has plenty to eat and wear and because he’s only 14 he’s not really allowed to work on the temple site. But Andy has made sacrifices. He willingly left his friends and home to come with his family to Nauvoo where his father would oversee the reconstruction of the Nauvoo Temple. “I am not sorry that I came,” says Andy. “I have been able to learn a lot more about the history of the Church and Joseph Smith. I can say that I have walked and lived where the Prophet Joseph and the early leaders of the Church did. As I see the temple workers, I notice that they all have shoes and shirts. They also have modern equipment like cranes, lifts, cement trucks, dump trucks, tractors, and power tools. I try to imagine how people in the 1840s built such a huge building without these things.”
Also, during the construction of the temple, Andy has seen what kind of man his dad is. “It means a lot to me to have my dad be able to oversee the construction of this temple, because I know I am one of a few young men who is able to participate so closely in such an historic event. My dad is a great example to me of hard work and dedication.”

Last November, I had the privilege of being invited—along with President Henry B. Eyring and Bishop Gérald Caussé—to attend a colloquium on marriage and family at the Vatican in Rome, Italy. In attendance were religious representatives from 14 different faiths and from six of the seven continents, all of whom had been invited to express their beliefs on what is happening to the family in today’s world.
Pope Francis opened the first session of the assembly with this statement: “We now live in a culture of the temporary, in which more and more people are simply giving up on marriage as a public commitment. This revolution in manners and morals has often flown the flag of freedom, but in fact it has brought spiritual and material devastation to countless human beings, especially the poorest and most vulnerable. … It is always they who suffer the most in this crisis.”
In referring to those of the rising generation, he said it is important that they “do not give themselves over to the poisonous [mentality] of the temporary, but rather be revolutionaries with the courage to seek true and lasting love, going against the common pattern”; this must be done.
This was followed by three days of presentation and discussion with religious leaders addressing the subject of marriage between a man and a woman. As I listened to the widest imaginable variety of worldwide religious leaders, I heard them agree completely with each other and express support for one another’s beliefs on the sanctity of the institution of marriage and of the importance of families as the basic unit of society. I felt a powerful sense of commonality and unity with them.
There were many who saw and expressed this unity, and they did so in a variety of ways. One of my favorites was when a Muslim scholar from Iran quoted two paragraphs verbatim from our very own proclamation on the family.
During the colloquium, I observed that when various faiths and denominations and religions are united on marriage and family, they are also united on the values and loyalty and commitment which are naturally associated with family units. It was remarkable for me to see how marriage and family-centered priorities cut across and superseded any political, economic, or religious differences. When it comes to love of spouse and hopes, worries, and dreams for children, we are all the same.
It was marvelous to be in meetings with worldwide presenters as they universally addressed their feelings of the importance of marriage between a man and a woman. Each of their addresses was followed by testimonies from other religious leaders. President Henry B. Eyring gave a final testimony at the colloquium. He bore powerful witness to the beauty of a committed marriage and to our belief in the promised blessing of eternal families.
President Eyring’s testimony was a fitting benediction to those three special days.

Lolly— Our home in Provo is situated within walking distance of the Provo Temple. And although we can’t see it from our house, we are reminded of the temple every time we leave our neighborhood. Our six-year-old neighbor girl, Lisi taught us a lesson I’ve never forgotten. Because she had to stay after school for a few minutes, our little neighbor missed her bus. Lisi thought she knew the way home and decided to try it on her own. She soon became turned around and found herself alone on a busy street similar to Kamehameha Highway. A woman jogger noticed her tears and stopped to inquire if she could help. While sobbing in the arms of the jogger, Lisi burst out “I can’t remember my address but if you can get me to the temple, I can find my way back home.” The jogger walked her to the temple and sure enough, Lisi knew how to get home. “If I can get to the temple, I can find my way back home.”

Although Cyrena feared setting off on her own, she trusted in the Lord and His promises. She soon found that her new religious community, her fellow Saints, cared for her as if she were part of their families. Because she lived in Alexander Stanley’s home for a short time, she was able to set out with his company for Far West, Missouri.

During the trip, Cyrena fell gravely ill and spent much of her time lying sick in a wagon. She wrote, “I shall ever remember how kind and good the sisters and brethren were to me during that long ride from New Portage, Ohio, to the Missouri River. They gave me every attention that could be given under the circumstances, many times sacrificing their own comfort for mine.”7 Although some felt she would not recover, Cyrena held on to her faith and the promise of her patriarchal blessing that she would go to Zion. She survived the journey, reaching Far West in the fall of 1838, and her health continued to improve.

In the listening audience today are Jeff and Joyce Underwood of Pocatello, Idaho. They are parents of Jeralee and their other five children. Jeff works on a building maintenance team that cares for some of our chapels in Pocatello, Idaho. Joyce is a mother and homemaker. One day last July, their daughter Jeralee, age eleven, was going door to door collecting money for her newspaper route. Jeralee never returned home—not that day, nor the next day, nor the next, nor ever.

Two thousand people from the area had gone out day after day to search for her. Other churches sent support and food for the searchers. It was learned that Jeralee had been abducted and brutally murdered by an evil man. When her body was found, the whole city was horrified and shocked. All segments of the community reached out to Joyce and Jeff in love and sympathy. Some became angry and wanted to take vengeance.

After Jeralee’s body was found, Jeff and Joyce appeared with great composure before the television cameras and other media to publicly express their profound thanks to all who had helped in the search and who had extended sympathy and love. Joyce said, “I know our Heavenly Father has heard and answered our prayers, and he has brought our daughter back to us.” Jeff said, “We no longer have doubt about where she is.” Joyce continued, “I have learned a lot about love this week, and I also know there is a lot of hate. I have looked at the love and want to feel that love, and not the hate. We can forgive.”

Elder Joe J. Christensen and I, representing the General Authorities, were among the thousands privileged to attend Jeralee’s funeral service. The Holy Spirit blessed that gathering in a remarkable way and spoke peace to the souls of all who attended. Later, President Kert W. Howard, Jeralee’s stake president, wrote, “The Underwoods have received letters from people both in and out of the Church stating that they prayed for Jeralee, and they hadn’t prayed in years, and because of this, they had a renewed desire to return to the Church.” President Howard continued, “We will never know the extent of activation and rededication this single event has caused. Who knows the far-reaching effects Jeralee’s life will have for generations untold?” Many have come into the Church because they wanted to know what kind of a religion could give the Underwoods their spiritual strength.

I mention the good coming from this tragic event with Jeralee’s parents’ full approval and encouragement. Their sweet daughter was like the lad who had only five barley loaves and two small fishes to give to the cause of the Savior, but by the power of God, countless thousands have been spiritually fed.

Last year I attended the Winter 2012 BYU–Hawaii Career Fair. At that time I was working in the Alumni office on campus and had to work at a booth at the career fair. I took a break from sitting and decided that I was going to walk around the event looking for an opportunity to network or potentially seek a job interview. After circling the event I failed to find many opportunities relating to my major or career path. Soon after returning to my booth a career service representative started talking to me. She said that it is unfortunate that many students are not fully taking advantage of all the opportunities that are available at this fair, and then specifically mentioned a few companies that were looking to recruit at the fair but had not had many students approach them. After learning that one of these companies attending was the Pacific Heritage Academy, a new public charter school in Utah, I instantly received a prompting to call my friend, Irene.

She was a good friend of mine who graduated from BYU–Hawaii the previous year with a Bachelors of Science in Elementary Education. She had been unsuccessful at finding a full time teaching position and was only subbing at a local Elementary school. At first I thought, “the career fair is ending in 20 minutes there probably isn’t enough time for Irene to make it.” However again a voice in my head told me that I should call her. I quickly called Irene and asked her what she was doing and told her to come to the CAC right away. I said don’t worry about changing clothes, just come. Irene showed up a few minutes before the fair was finished and was able to connect with a representative from the academy. After talking for 30 minutes she was able to set up a skype interview appointment.

A few months later Irene was offered and she accepted a full time teaching position at Pacific Heritage Academy in Salt Lake City, Utah, as a Third Grade Teacher. I recently messaged Irene on facebook asking her if it was okay that I share this story in devotional. In response she said:

“Whenever anyone asks how I came across this job, I never forget to mention you! I have to tell you that my life was leading up to this point and if you hadn't called me, I'm not sure how I would have found this job that I love, serving Heavenly Father's children. Maybe Heavenly Father would have found another way for me to hear about it but it was you that made the choice to follow the prompting to call me. Totally a perfect example of how we can be instruments in answering other people's prayers.”

I know that I never would have been able to help Irene if I had not listened to the prompting of the Holy Ghost. Without me even telling her, she shared the exact lesson that I learned from this experience that is; God uses us to answer the prayers of others.

Ten years ago this October, while speaking in the priesthood meeting of general conference, I shared the following experience. One day
my son Ben came to me and said, “Dad, we are going to hold our family reunion this summer at Flaming Gorge recreation area” (a distance of 220 miles east of Salt Lake City). “Why don’t you, myself, and any of the boys in our family that would like to leave a few days early, ride our bikes to Flaming Gorge, and meet the rest of the family there?”
I said, “That sounds great, but we only have one motorcycle!”
Ben said, “No, Dad, you [don’t understand.] I mean pedal bicycles.” I thought he was kidding. He said, “I will outline and prepare a training schedule for us. We’ll get up early Saturday mornings and for three hours we’ll go out and ride over the courses I will outline, so that when the time comes we will be prepared to go.”
I said, “Okay,” not really knowing what I was in for. I didn’t own a bicycle and knew I would have to use my daughter’s old, heavy, ten-speed bicycle with what seemed like bent wheels and a seat that was terribly hard. I also knew that getting up early on Saturday mornings was not one of my favorite things. But knowing that some of my sons wanted me to go with them, I said, “Okay.”
As the time for training and preparation came, I found all kinds of excuses [not to] go on the training rides. However, one Saturday I rode with them to the top of Parleys Canyon and back. It was hard, but I thought I would be okay. Little did I know!
The time for the trip came. I joined my boys the second day of the trip, as I had meetings the first day. The journey that second day took us from Heber City to Roosevelt (approximately one hundred miles).
As we checked into the motel that evening, I called my wife at home and told her I had never hurt so bad in my life. Every muscle, bone, and fiber in my body hurt from my head to my feet. I implored her, “When you come tomorrow with the rest of the family, please bring all the ointment and lotion you can find.”
She said, “Honey, you sound terrible.”
I told her, “I look and feel worse than I sound.”
The next day I hated to see the dawn come, knowing what it would be like to sit on that hard seat and pedal all day once again [in order] to reach our destination—especially the stretch from Vernal to Flaming Gorge, which would include approximately thirty-six-plus miles with grades up to 9 percent and ninety-degree-plus temperatures. Needless to say, for me the whole trip was a very trying and arduous task. But for my sons, who spent a lot of time waiting at the top of the hills for their slow, unprepared dad, it was exciting, fun, and rewarding.
That evening as we arrived at our destination, I came to an easy, yet profound recognition of how poorly prepared I was for what should have been a great experience with my sons, but was not because I did not take the time to properly prepare. I resolved that night that I would never again be that unprepared. I went home and bought bicycles for myself and my two youngest sons, and started training and preparing so that by the time the next summer came, my sons and I could ride our bikes to Lake Powell, a distance of three hundred miles, which we did. The next year we cycled to St. George, and every year thereafter, we rode our bikes to Lake Powell until our mission [assignment some years later].

When former Young Women general president Elaine S. Dalton gave a talk suggesting that the most important thing a father could do for his daughter was to “love her mother,”7 I was pierced with the recognition that it was I and not my husband who needed to hear the talk; he had been far more conscientious about communicating to my children how much he loved me than I had in the reverse. I thought of the multiple times I had walked into a room and my husband had asked one of my children, “Guess what?” to which one would respond, “I know … you love Mom,” or, “I know … Mom’s your best friend,” or “I know … Mom’s your dream girl,” or any number of similar declarations he had reinforced over the years. I realized that the immense security I felt in my marriage, and that I had taken for granted, was a direct result of my husband’s generosity in expressing his love, admiration, and respect for me to our children.

Now, some of you may be thinking, "Well, that is great. But what do you do when you are seeking promptings, counsel from the Lord, warnings, and direction, and you just do not seem to receive an answer?"

Maybe you are having this concern with regard to the most important decision you will make in your life. Remember the promise to trust in the Lord with all thine heart and He will direct thy paths.

On important events in our lives, we do want clear direction, and that may be hard to find. When I was courting my wonderful bride, I wanted a clear manifestation of the Spirit that she was the right one. It would have been nice to have an angel come down and declare that to me. What I knew for certain was that I was definitely in love. I could not stand to go more than about 18 hours without seeing her.

So I did all the things outlined: I fasted, I prayed, I attended the temple, and I sought the counsel of my parents. Now, before I continue, I want to add that I believe I was raised by the greatest father that has ever walked the face of the earth. However, he could not confirm that my wife was the right one for me. I had had such a great relationship with my father that I just assumed he would help me with that most important of decisions. But he could not tell me that he had had confirmation by the Spirit. My mother, thankfully, was more helpful. She expressed that she felt good about Emily. My mother's feelings allowed me to move forward to do what was right.

Logic also played a very valuable role in the process of making a decision. I knew that Emily possessed an unusually strong commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ. What the Lord wanted was going to come first in her life--no matter what. She was extremely kind. She was intelligent, and as we spoke about scripture study, prayer, family home evening, Church service, and many other topics, it was evident that she was founded in true principles.

So, with those assurances, on a wonderful day in April 1985, my eternal companion and I started a never-ending journey. She is the single best decision that I have ever made. Heavenly Father was definitely directing my path. That does not mean that life has been simple and without challenges. But it has been a unique journey that we have shared together. I look forward to spending another 50 billion years with her! Maybe then she will not be a mystery to me. On second thought, it will be okay if she still is a bit of a mystery.

I have had such strong answers to many prayers, so why not an unmistakable answer to the most important of all requests that I had made to the Lord up to that point in my life? I believe it was to teach me to listen to the still, small voice and not doubt. Furthermore, I have come to understand that if I am repentant, being exactly obedient, following my leaders, and making other good choices--in other words, if I am worthy--Heavenly Father will not let me make big mistakes without proper warning. Nor will He let you.

The reality of this thought is delightfully portrayed in the closing lines of the well-known musical Camelot. King Arthur’s Round Table has been destroyed by the jealousies of men, the infidelity of a queen, and the appearance in the present of a mistake from the past, even Mordred. Deprived of his dream, King Arthur and his forces prepare to meet the armies of Lancelot. All he held dear is gone; disillusionment has darkened into despair.
Suddenly, however, there appears a stowaway—the young boy Tom of Warwick. Filled with the hope of youth, he tells the king he has come to help him fight the mighty battle. He reveals his intention to become a knight. Under the questioning of Arthur, Tom declares his knowledge of the Round Table. He repeats the familiar goals: “Might for right! Right for right! Justice for all!”
A look of renewed confidence spreads across King Arthur’s face. All is not lost. To the boy he repeats the goals and glory of Camelot. Then he formally knights him “Sir Tom of Warwick.” Thus commissioned to depart the battlefield, to return to England, to renew the dream of Camelot, to grow up and to grow old, Sir Tom places aside the weapons of war; and armed with the tenets of truth, he hears his monarch command, “Run, boy, run!” A boy had been spared, an idea safeguarded, a hope renewed. (Alan J. Lerner, Camelot, New York: Random House, 1961, p. 115.)

Reality: Dr. DuPont likes to tell the story of the time he was visiting with an executive of one of America’s largest breweries. During their discussion, the two men were talking about one of the company’s beer-making operations and the topic of the factory’s employee cafeteria came up. The conversation went like this:
Beer company executive: “We used to serve beer in our cafeteria to the employees on their lunch hours and breaks, but we don’t anymore.”
Dr. DuPont: “Why did you stop?”
Beer company executive: “Why do you think?”
Ask Rob Lane if substance abuse can hurt you, and he’s got evidence it can.
The 18-year-old freshman from the University Second Ward, Rincon Arizona Stake, is part of a research team at the University of Arizona Medical Center studying how alcohol, tobacco, and cocaine abuse influences cells, antibodies, and the immune system.
“It isn’t a question of whether abuse harms you,” Rob says. “It’s a question of how quickly and how extensively.”
Lee Murphy, one of two returned missionaries who work with Rob, states the case even more dramatically. “We test laboratory rats over a period of six to eight weeks. In that time, 60 percent of the animals subjected to cocaine and alcohol will die. It’s like they’re in a trap. When they’re on a drug, their behavior changes severely if they don’t get the drug. But if they continue to get it, chances are it will kill them.”
Chad McRae, the other returned missionary, and Gail Crawford, another LDS student working in the lab, help Rob summarize data. As their computers analyze screen after screen of statistics Rob says, “Isn’t it obvious? Don’t abuse drugs. Once you start down that road, you may never recover.”
Rob, Lee, Chad, and Gail are only students, and their work is in support of a lot of others with more expertise. But ask any one of them what research has taught them about the Word of Wisdom, and their answer is quick and sure: “It’s true.”

“What can I get Mom for Mother’s Day?” I asked the same question again and again, but still no answer came. Because it was the last year I would be living at home, I wanted to give Mom something extra special. When she unwrapped this gift, it had to say, “Thank you for taking care of me and loving me for the last 20 years.”
“Well, if there is such a gift, I should be able to find it here,” I said out loud as I pulled the car into the shopping mall parking lot. Each little store seemed inviting, but I felt drawn into the pet shop. The fluffy dogs and cuddly hamsters had always been irresistible to me. As I walked around the fish tanks, there it lay—a green, scaly lizard! My thoughts hurled back through time, and for a moment I was a child again.
“Can I help you?” asked the clerk in the stationery store.
“No, just looking,” I mumbled. I lifted a piece of fine embossed stationery from a box. It felt smooth and cold in my hand.
“Should I wrap that up for you?” the sales clerk asked.
“No,” I said shaking my head.
“It’s not quite what I’m looking for.”
As Mom received each gift, her bright face and sweet words of gratitude made me feel absolutely confident that I had picked out the perfect present.
“The mall is now closing,” announced the voice over the loud speaker. Slowly, I walked out to the car. My hands were empty. The evening was gone, and still I had not purchased a gift for my mother.
“What is wrong with me? Why doesn’t anything seem right? What is it that Mom really wants?” I asked myself. Then suddenly I had the answers, and I knew the gift I would give to my mother this last year that I would be living at home. It didn’t have to be written down, nor did it have to be wrapped up. It wouldn’t take as much effort to get as the lizard nor cost as much money as the gold watch. But still it was the perfect gift.
This year I would give to my mother my sacred promise to always love the Lord and keep all his commandments and serve him by staying active in his Church, all the days of my life. Peace and happiness filled my soul as I pictured my mother’s joyful expression when she received this gift. In my heart I knew she would say, “It’s just what I have always wanted.”

I will start by sharing a brief history of a close friend. I know of a family who lived close to a large amusement park. Like others in the area, this family would drive by the park often. Each time their young son would ask, “Daddy, can we go there? I really want to go there and play on all the rides.” Understanding that his son would continue to ask the same question week after week, the father would reply, “Maybe tomorrow we can go.” This little interchange repeated itself again and again until finally, early one Saturday morning, the boy came running into his parents’ bedroom. He jumped on the bed, startling both of them, and exclaimed with great enthusiasm, “Daddy, tomorrow is today!”

This interesting play on words—“tomorrow is today”—illustrates a valuable point. Everything we hope to accomplish in the future, how we prepare for the responsibilities that will ultimately be ours, is really a function of what we do today. Though some things about the future will always seem uncertain, the future is not entirely a mystery. To a great extent the future is shaped by the accumulation of all our daily activities and disciplined efforts.

Telii and Nabota were among the first Tubuaians to join the Church. They became Elder Pratt’s closest friends there and helped him preach the gospel. Telii translated Latter-day Saint hymns and scriptures and set them to himene, a local singing style. Many evenings, she gathered people together to teach them her songs. It was during these meetings, which sometimes lasted until midnight, that her relatives and friends first learned gospel concepts and scriptures. Several were soon baptized.

After decades of living where members of the Church are a minority, my husband and I moved into a neighborhood in Rexburg, Idaho, USA, that contained only two nonmember families. It was our good fortune to live next to one of them.
The father was mowing his lawn the first time we drove into our driveway. My husband and I crossed our lawn to get acquainted. As I put out my hand, I asked, “So what brought your family to Rexburg?”
He replied, “My job—and we searched specifically for a town that needed to be introduced to Christ.”
I felt as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown in my face, but I smiled. I determined at that moment that no matter what our new neighbor said or did, we would become the best neighbors the family ever had. We would try to respond in every interaction with them in a kind, loving, and reasonable way, as the Savior would.
The following eight years brought many shared activities between our families. The mother was invited to and attended Relief Society activities. She invited me and many of our Latter-day Saint neighbors to a Christian women’s retreat sponsored by her church. My husband and I were invited to their children’s dance and piano recitals. Their family was included in neighborhood cookouts and parties. And we received calls from their older children when they needed rides home from work and couldn’t reach their parents.
The parents worried that their children might begin to like Latter-day Saints too much, so they didn’t let their sons join our ward Scouting program. But our home was considered a safe place, where they let their children play when our grandchildren visited.
Every time our neighbors tried to help us see “the error of our ways,” we reminded them that we had the utmost respect for their beliefs and the way they lived and nurtured their children. We then added that we expected the same respect for our beliefs, which also centered on the Savior’s teachings.
When the mother tried to make our differences into a deep, uncrossable chasm by claiming that Latter-day Saints believed in a “different Jesus,” I reminded her that we both believed He is divine and the beloved Son of God. Eventually she and I enjoyed a warm and friendly relationship.
Their family moved without joining the Church. But if they can say, “We lived among Mormons; they are good and respectful people with sincere hearts,” then I feel we succeeded in being good neighbors and in helping them become more open and fair in their assessment of Latter-day Saints.

The first missionaries sent to black Africa were Rendell and Rachel Mabey and Ted and Janath Cannon. They arrived in Nigeria just five months after the revelation. Their first baptism was Anthony Obinna, who had waited and pleaded for membership for thirteen years. In 1965 Brother Obinna had a dream that he did not understand but which impressed him deeply. He said: "One night I was sleeping and a tall man came to me and took me to one of the most beautiful buildings and showed me all the rooms. Then in 1970 I found [a] Reader's Digest article titled, "The March of the Mormons," with a picture of the Salt Lake Temple. It was exactly the same building that I had seen in my dreams." Immediately Brother Obinna wrote to Church headquarters requesting literature and baptism. He received literature, organized a congregation and continued writing letters requesting baptism. Finally, after years of pleading, he wrote directly to the Council of Twelve saying: "Your long silence about the establishment of the Church in Nigeria is very embarrassing. Did Christ not say, 'Go ye and teach all nations?" It is not often that the Brethren are chastised by nonmembers for not baptizing converts? However, when Brother Obinna learned that the revelation had been received he wrote the following to President Kimball: "We are happy for the many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple you spent supplicating the Lord to bring us into the fold. We thank our Heavenly Father for hearing your prayers and ours and by revelation has confirmed the long promised day to receive every blessing of the gospel." On the day Brother Obinna was baptized he was ordained to the Priesthood and set apart as the first black African branch president and Sister Obinna became the first Relief Society president. Soon after his baptism, Brother Obinna prophesied: "The seed of the gospel will grow into a giant tree. The Church in Nigeria will surprise the world in its growth."

And so it has.

In the fall of 2007, I received a call on my phone. The voice was familiar yet I was mistaken as to who it was. "Hello Dad I'm in the emergency room; I've been in an accident." I asked what had happened. He said "I crashed by bike." I found myself getting angry at Andrew for riding his bike when he was supposed to be attending an event at the high school that evening. He said Dad this is Alex, my son on a mission. I spoke with the doctor who explained to us his face was scraped up and he had a severe concussion. The mission President was there in the hospital with him and said he would be taking my son to the mission home for a few days to recover. A few days later I got a call again, this time I recognized the voice, it was Alex again calling at the request of the mission president's wife to let us know he was doing better. He told me he was depressed. Using my social work skills I said, "Why are you depressed?" and he replied dad because there's a lot of work to do here and the president won't let me go tracting because of the way I look. We received photos of Alex. He was skinned up across his forehead, down the side of his face across one ear and had his left eye swollen shut and black and blue. It was wisdom in the mission president not to allow my son to go out and represent the church in his condition. He became a very successful missionary. Two of the students he was privileged to baptize while serving on Iowa State University's campus will join us here next month. I don't tell you this story to boast of my son's cycling abilities, but rather to talk about a young missionary dedicated serving the Lord, similar to the 2,000 young warriors who had all been taught by their mothers to work hard and trust in the Lord.

“Give it back!”
“No, it’s mine!”
The kids sitting alone behind Jadyn had been pretty quiet during the sacrament, but now they kept distracting him.
“Mom, will you make them stop?” Jadyn whispered.
Mom turned and smiled at the kids. Then she looked around the chapel. “I think their parents are our speakers today,” she whispered back. Mom and Jadyn were visiting, so they knew hardly anyone in the ward.
Jadyn looked at the mom and dad sitting on the stand. They looked a little embarrassed. The kids were still fighting behind him.
Jadyn couldn’t concentrate. How would he even hear the talks? Then he remembered it was sometimes easier to listen when his hands stayed busy. Sometimes he drew pictures of what the speakers were talking about. Two years ago Dad had taught him how to fold colorful square papers into Japanese origami. Now he could make lots of things, like animals and fancy boxes, without even looking at instructions.
Jadyn took a bright red piece of paper from his scripture bag and carefully folded it in half. But before he could continue, he heard more fighting behind him. He looked at Mom. She glanced back at the kids. Jadyn’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about what to do. He couldn’t think of anything. Then Mom leaned over and whispered something in Jadyn’s ear. His eyes widened with surprise.
Jadyn looked back at the arguing kids. He didn’t even know them! He felt butterflies fill his stomach. Would Mom’s idea actually work?
He grabbed some extra paper. Then he took a deep breath and went to work. His fingers moved quickly to fold the bright colors.
Soon he had turned the flat pieces of paper into a colorful flapping bird and a jumping bunny. He turned around and shyly handed the bunny to the boy and the bird to the girl. Their eyes got big as they stared at their new treasures.
“Cool!” the boy whispered.
“Thanks!” said the girl.
The fighting ended as quickly as it had started. Jadyn’s mom turned and smiled at him. The kids played happily and quietly with their origami for the rest of the meeting.
“Your talent made all the difference!” Mom said as they left the chapel. “You used your hands to serve someone. That’s one reason God gives us all talents.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
Jadyn looked over and saw the kids showing the origami animals to their parents. He was glad he’d helped.
He grinned. “I wonder what else I can do with my talents!”
The most important part of sacrament meeting is the sacrament. It’s a time to put away toys, books, and other things and quietly think about Jesus. Here’s a scripture bookmark to help you remember why the sacrament is so important.
I renew my baptismal covenants each week when I TAKE the sacrament.
T—Take His name upon me
A—Always remember Him
K—Keep His commandments
E—Endure to the end