Gospel Story Finder

Joseph Smith gave enthusiastic support to a “Young Gentlemen’s and Young Ladies Relief Society of Nauvoo,” which developed under Heber C. Kimball’s guiding hand. It began simply as a small and casual discussion gathering. But week by week more youth came and bigger and bigger meeting places were arranged. Once when the group met in the large room above the Prophet’s store, he came to speak to them. He praised Elder Kimball for helping organize this “good and glorious work,” complimented the youth on their good conduct, “and taught them how to behave in all places, explained to them their duties, and advised them to organize themselves into a society for the relief of the poor.” Specifically, he asked them to fund and then build a house for a brother who was lame. In response, the youth drew up a constitution, elected officers, called monthly meetings, and opened their membership to anyone under age thirty in Nauvoo, LDS or not, including young men and “the tender, lovely, and beautiful females of our city.”

David and Shauna Bond, parents of a formerly drug-abusing teenager, believe they were able to help their son end his drug abuse at an early stage in part because they were informed. Brother Bond was familiar with the signs of drug and alcohol abuse and recognized them in his son.
“When we discovered Mike was using drugs, I got anti-drug literature and told him he had to read it; then we would discuss it together,” says Brother Bond. “Mike thought he knew what it was all about, but he didn’t. Part of convincing him to stop was educating him to the dangers of drugs and letting him know that his parents were informed.”
Although there is, of course, no guaranteed treatment method, just as there is no guaranteed prevention, those three principles worked for Brother and Sister Bond. After recognizing their son’s problem, the Bonds acted firmly and without hesitation in a spirit of love. First, Brother Bond confronted Mike in a calm, loving way, telling him that any use of drugs in their home was unacceptable.
When Mike continued using drugs, the Bonds used every resource they could think of to get him off drugs and keep him off: They informed themselves about drugs; they communicated with school officials about Mike’s problem and asked them to report suspicious behavior; they searched for evidence of what Mike was using and who was supplying him; and they established rules for Mike and would not change them. All this was done with constant reassurance to Mike that the main reason they were willing to do so much was that they loved him so deeply.
“I just said, ‘Look, I love you too much to let this happen to you. You have a choice. I have a choice, too,’” says Brother Bond.
At one point, after Mike had said he wasn’t using drugs any more but his parents discovered otherwise, Brother Bond acted promptly and firmly.
“I asked Mike who was selling to him, and he wouldn’t tell me. I told him, ‘I’ll find out, and when I do, I’m going to prosecute him to the limit of the law. If it means I have to hire a detective to find out who’s supplying you, I’ll do it.’ I think Mike really heard that, and I don’t think he’s used drugs since then.”
Following through on a warning can be frightening for parents, who may fear alienating their already troubled child. Mike was furious at his parents for their intervention, and their relationship “definitely got worse,” says Brother Bond. But the temporary loss of communication was worth the end result: a drug-free son.

I had pondered over these verses for years before I had an experience that helped broaden my understanding of the doctrine of Christ and what it meant to speak with the tongue of angels. In October 2016, my 6-year-old son was diagnosed with cancer. While the news was devastating, we always felt optimistic that he would receive the treatment needed to get better. We had no idea how challenging the next 3 ½ years would be for him and our family.

We spent countless hours traveling back and forth to Primary Children’s Hospital for doctors’ appointments and extended hospital stays. My wife and I spent many sleepless nights lying awake staring out the window, and—if we were lucky—we got one of the rooms where we could see the Salt Lake Temple. During those moments, being able to see the temple was a good reminder of where we could turn for comfort and support. Night after night, I poured over the scriptures, pondering them, and asking the Lord all the really difficult questions I had been nervous to ask, thinking I would come across as doubting or less faithful. For example, why were some healed and others were not? Why were some healed quickly in miraculous ways while others suffered for years before they got better? Did the prayers or priesthood blessings I offered for my son make any kind of difference in his treatment?

Toward the end of his treatment, we ended up in the hospital one last time. During this stay, I was very frustrated over what I felt was a mismanagement of his treatment plan that had now caused him an unnecessary prolonged stay in the hospital. To make matters worse, we were only a few days away from celebrating his 10th birthday.

During this stay, there was no view of the temple and night after night, I lay awake staring at the top of a dreary parking garage. Because of my feelings of frustration, I did not feel like praying or reading the scriptures and there was nothing on the top of that parking garage that reminded me of where to turn for help in my time of need. The night before his birthday, I finally gave in and poured my heart out to the Lord. I prayed alone several times and with my son several times. We asked the Lord to help heal my son so the doctors would feel comfortable sending him home tomorrow for his birthday.

Morning came, doctors were making their rounds, and I felt certain they would send us home. Surely if anyone deserved to go home and celebrate their birthday, it was my son. You can probably guess what happened. The doctors said they wanted to keep him one additional night for observation. My son burst into tears and pulled the blankets over his head, and I—not knowing how to console him—decided I would be better off having my parents sit with him while I took a shower and got some rest.

The previous feelings of frustration, anger, and entitlement were gone; instead, I felt humbled as I perceived that this was the Lord’s will. This change in attitude set the stage for me to witness the outpouring of revelation in my son’s life. As I was resting, I had a few distinct thoughts come to mind. If your son is getting better, why does it matter if he goes home today or tomorrow? Be patient and let me show you the bigger picture. As I went back to my son’s room, I saw revelation in action as doctors, nurses, and hospital administrators were bringing in gifts and singing happy birthday. They were all overjoyed as they provided that special experience for my son. This was a life-altering event I will never forget. In that moment, I had another clear impression come into my mind. How could a doctor or nurse use their spiritual gift of healing if no one needed to be healed? How could a hospital administrator, whose spiritual gift is providing comfort, use their gift if they couldn’t plan a surprise birthday party for someone in need?

Later that night when I came back from getting dinner, my son was sitting on the couch with a nurse talking about Nintendo Switch games like they were new best friends. My son looked up at me as I entered the room and said, “Can you believe we have the same birthday? I’m going to try and make tonight really fun for her.” The nurse later shared that she had originally been disappointed about working that night because it was going to be the first time she would celebrate her birthday with her new husband. She was devastated when she got the call to come in because other nurses had called in sick. I truly believe it was no coincidence that a nurse from a different department would randomly be assigned to care for my son that night as they comforted each other on one another’s birthdays. This is the doctrine of Christ in action.

Over the course of several days and many years later, I have come to realize through line upon line, precept upon precept experiences that when we use our spiritual gifts to bless the lives of others, we are receiving revelation from the Holy Ghost to act. This is the doctrine of Christ that helps the Lord accomplish His work, which is the salvation of all His children.

On another occasion two of our elders, rather young and inexperienced, had gone to open a new city to missionary work. The city was almost totally Catholic and was reportedly under the domination of the Catholic bishop who lived there. As these elders went about their work, making contacts and becoming acquainted, people frequently said to them, “Does the bishop know you are here?”
They would answer, “We don’t know.”
“Well, it will be interesting to see what happens when he finds out.”
One day the trouble came. A priest came to their lodging and delivered a letter. It said in substance, “We would like to know by what authority you come into this community and teach your doctrine without having first cleared it with the bishop of this area. Therefore, we ask you to appear at a special meeting that will be held at the central Catholic church.”
The elders called mission headquarters.
“President, what should we do? Can you come and help us?”
I answered, “No, I can’t come, but they have offered you an invitation to explain what we believe. That is what you went there for, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but how do we handle this situation?”
I said, “I’ll have my assistant join you. Accept the invitation, but do it on two conditions. Say, ‘We’ll be glad to come if we are treated with courtesy and if you will assure us the opportunity to explain what we believe.’”
In the meeting, the priest in charge, without any formality, stood up and said, “These two young men are here teaching their religion, and we have called you together to hear an explanation of their doctrine.” There were two or three hundred people present representing the influential people of the city.
The elders then stood up and spoke of the Apostasy, the Restoration, and the Book of Mormon. As they finished, they said, “If you people will read this Book of Mormon and pray about it, the Lord will give you a testimony.” A priest in the rear of the hall immediately jumped up and said, “Oh, no, no, no. None of you can read that book.” Everyone laughed. The only problem occurred after the meeting when a Seventh-day Adventist got into an argument with one of the priests. Our elders, on the other hand, had several very pleasant conversations. From then on they caused no problems by proselyting in that city.

After hearing this story, our nine-year-old son, Rick, who had been training for the Cub Scout Olympics, said, “I want to beat that boy’s record.”
“That’s a great goal,” my wife and I told him. “You’ll need to build up to that by doing a little more each night.”
“No!” came Rick’s response. “I want to do it tonight.”
Right there on our living room floor, Rick started doing sit-ups. After about 250 we said, “That’s very good, Rick. Now you can go to bed and tomorrow night you can do some more.”
But Rick wouldn’t give up. When he got to 500 sit-ups, we could see in his eyes that he wasn’t going to stop. He did 1,004 sit-ups that night. My wife and I know that even if we had given a hundred lessons on never giving up on our goals, they wouldn’t have meant as much to our family as Rick doing 1,004 sit-ups that night.

I was powerfully taught this lesson on a spring Monday eight years ago. The wife of my boyhood home teacher Craig Moore, Lila, was passing away. She was 92 and had been widowed for 16 years. Lila’s children, Kathy and Merrill, were on their way to Idaho but hadn’t arrived.

Lila was struggling for air with such strength that her legs rose off the bed with each breath. I had given her a blessing that mentioned the First Resurrection and reuniting with Craig. Yet, she was determined to remain on Earth. In what seemed to be delirium, she declared repeatedly, “I have too much to do.”

Into her final hour, Lila repeatedly asserted that she would get better. But the labored breathing began to slow. She held my hand to the end.

How blessed we are to have the capacity to honor and prolong the lives of our forebears. They can teach us things—from both sides of the veil—that we cannot otherwise learn before it is too late to make good use of them on Earth.

OK, we’re only down one point with seven seconds left. Tanya, I want you to pass to Joyce and set a screen for Cathlyn on the left wing. Cathlyn, all you have to do is lose your man, catch the pass from Joyce, and bury the shot.
You did it, Cathlyn! We won!
Great game, Champ. That last play was awesome!
I just did what the coach told me, Dad.
Did he come out on the floor and make you do it?
Of course not!
Are you glad you chose to follow his plan anyway?
I guess so. Hey, this isn’t just about basketball, is it?
It isn’t?
Do they teach this stuff in dad school, or are you just a natural?

I had a somewhat similar experience not long after that visit to the cathedral. While sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s office, I picked up a copy of a Reader’s Digest, only to discover an insert on how to communicate more effectively with family members. It was prepared by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was aware that the Church had begun placing these brief advertisements in the Digest but had never taken the time to do more than peruse them. I read this particular one through. It was nice, had some good pointers on communication, and seemed to be the kind of thing that would leave a positive impression with most readers. My next thought was rather judgmental: “This is quaint, but it really isn’t going to bring many people into the Church. Why waste the Church’s money on such fluff?”

Then there came a very simple but effective chastisement to my narrow mind. It occurred to me that there just might be someone, somewhere, who would be prompted, after reading the insert, to inquire after the Church and its teachings. More important, maybe someone would be helped by the piece. Maybe some father or mother, some son or daughter, would take counsel and take heart from what was written. Oh, they may not join the Church, but what if the insert actually helped their family, resulted in greater harmony, moved their home a little closer to heaven? Wouldn’t that make it all worth it? I sensed a broadening of my views through that experience and again, an awareness that the God and Father of us all will give unto us line upon line, precept upon precept, according to our ability and willingness to receive.

Several young women sit in a living room on a Sunday evening, talking about the gospel, as they are all wrapped up in patchwork quilts. The scene doesn’t seem so unusual until you know it’s the middle of summer in Utah, and it’s very warm outside.
One of the young women comments on the situation. “It’s not that the house is cold or anything,” she says. “We’re all wrapped up in our blankets because it’s just comforting.”
It’s comforting because these quilts have become a big part of their lives. Each young woman earned the squares on her quilt and stitched the final product together. The quilts have a very special meaning because of the growth each young woman went through as she collected squares for a year and sewed her quilt together.
When the leaders of the ward introduced the quilt project, they gave each young woman an unused pizza box with two quilt squares inside. Some of the young women were confused and not sure if they would ever have enough squares to make a quilt.
“When I got the two squares in a box, I thought, ‘How am I supposed to make a quilt out of two squares?’ ” says Maren M., 16.
But over the next year, the young women gained more squares. They earned a square for each Young Women lesson they attended and for special occasions like holidays, camp, and New Beginnings. They got squares for finishing Personal Progress value experiences and for reading the Book of Mormon. On her birthday, each young woman was given a large block with a picture of her favorite temple.
“When our leaders explained the whole project to me, I did not want to sew a quilt, so I was just going to put it off,” says Katie W., 13. “Then I started getting the quilt squares every week, and I was so excited because they were so cute. Then it built up into this huge pile.”
“Two quilt squares at a time didn’t seem like anything,” says Abby M., 14. “They were just two little squares of fabric, and I didn’t think much of it. But slowly as I’d take them home from church and put them in my box, the pile just grew and grew and became a stack. Then before long, it was already time to sew them together.”
Most of the young women in the ward had never used a sewing machine before and had no idea how to sew a quilt. So each young woman received help from a mother, grandmother, or Relief Society sister.
“I got to go up to Idaho and work with my grandma on it,” says Mikayla S., 14. “I don’t get to see or talk to her very often, so it was really nice to go up and work on something with her. I also learned that I like to sew.”
Mikayla wasn’t the only one who found a new talent in sewing. “I didn’t know how good I’d be at sewing, but I knew my grandma would be there to help me,” Abby says. “It actually just came naturally. It was a cool skill that I figured out I could do, and it was fun.”
Since making their quilts, some of the young women have even used their sewing skills for other projects. Maren made pillows for the young women she was in charge of at camp. Katie made headbands as Christmas gifts for her friends at school.
In addition to learning how to sew, the young women learned other lessons.
“I learned patience, because I’m not very good at sewing, and I had to be patient with myself and my imperfections,” says Amanda W., 16.
Madison S., 15, learned how to be humble and ask for help with her quilt. “That happens a lot in our lives,” she says. “We don’t know how to do everything we want to do, and we have to ask Heavenly Father and our leaders and those who have gone before us how they did it and how we can then do it. It’s really helpful to me.”
During the project, the young women also had the opportunity to strengthen their testimonies through the experiences that the squares represented.
“It’s the squares on the quilt that represent my testimony,” Katie says. “That’s how it is in my life. You can’t just expect a testimony to come all at once. You have to wait; you have to get it one piece at a time. It comes slowly, but in the end it builds up a big, beautiful blanket—or a big, beautiful testimony.”
Abby agrees with that. “My quilt is like my testimony,” she says. “It’s like the quilt squares are all the little parts that come together and make me all of the things that I value in life, all the things that I treasure.”
All of the young women treasure their quilts and the experiences that led them to finish the quilts. It’s a reminder of what they have accomplished.
“My favorite square would probably be the Book of Mormon challenge because that was the first time I read the Book of Mormon all the way through,” Mikayla says.
Like Mikayla, each of the young women can point to her favorite squares and remember the experiences that go along with them. Those experiences will help the young women as they look to the future.
“I sleep with my quilt every night,” Katie says. “Every night before I go to bed, I look at the temple, and it reminds me that that’s where I need to end up.”
Many young women put the temple image in the middle of their quilts to remind them the temple is their focus.
“Going to the temple is one of my biggest goals,” Amanda says. “The temple is the first thing I notice when I see my quilt. I think it gives me a sense of direction.”
Maren says that when she sees the temple on her quilt, it reminds her of how she wants to go there. “It helps me to remember to dress modestly when I get ready for school and to make good choices as I go throughout the day,” she says.
The young women are all glad they accomplished this project, and they look forward to the things that they will accomplish in the future as they continue to progress and gain the pieces that will make up their lives.

In my wildest dreams or loftiest aspirations I never envisioned myself as a professional opera singer. Never! My wife and I had been married but a short time when we first moved to Overton, Nevada, directly after graduating from BYU. I was content with my new job as a music teacher and, as far as we were concerned, this was to be our home for the rest of our lives. We bought an old home—and I mean old—and worked to fix it up with air conditioning, a picket fence, and other amenities. During the summer months I continued my education, completing my master’s degree at Northern Arizona University in 1977. It was there that the stirrings of a dream began to be felt.

My voice teacher and mentor, Edgar Stone, encouraged me to seriously think about a career in opera. I struggled with the idea and dismissed it. I couldn’t envision how such a career would facilitate the achievement of my primary goal—that of being a good husband and father. How could I possibly balance family responsibilities, a stage life, and Church service? Would I be able to maintain personal integrity in such a highly competitive career? As I prayerfully considered this germinating dream, I began hearing of other members of the Church who had pursued such a course while successfully raising a family, but the most powerful source of encouragement and inspiration was my dear wife, Jeannie.

One evening after a rehearsal for a high school production, I returned home to find her sitting alone in our den. It was obvious she had been crying. Shocked, I asked her if someone had died. She said no. She had been listening to the recording of my master’s recital.

“Was it that bad?” I asked.

She smiled and told me, “No. No, it was just fine.”

However, she knew with certainty that the Lord had other plans for us and we would need to leave Overton.

Such an important and life-altering decision cannot be made alone. By then we had three sons. I knew that uprooting our little family from the security of our nearly completed home and comfortable job would be nothing short of insanity without confirmation from the Lord.

We fasted and fervently prayed for guidance. One afternoon, just as we were about ready to end our fast, I stopped at the post office to collect the mail. The July 1977 issue of the Ensign had arrived. I opened to the First Presidency message and read President Kimball’s life-changing words specifically addressing the arts:
Who of us has not sat spellbound with Aïda, Il Trovatore, or other of the masterpieces of Verdi . . . ? Can there never be another Verdi or his superiors? . . .
Is there anyone who has not been stirred by the rich melodic voice of Enrico Caruso . . . , Italian-born operatic tenor? Surely there have been few voices which have inspired so many.

President Kimball continued:
We also remember the celebrated Jenny Lind, the Swedish singer. . . . Do you think there are no more voices like Jenny Lind’s? Our day, our time, our people, our generation, should produce such, as we catch the total vision of our potential and dream dreams and see visions of the future. [Spencer W. Kimball, “The Gospel Vision of the Arts,” Ensign, July 1977, 3]

Can you imagine how we felt as the impact of this message penetrated our souls? It was as if the Lord had literally spoken to us. We had received an extraordinary answer and knew what had to be done. Together, with the Lord as our partner, it became our challenge to figure out how to do it.

In another series of small, yet irrefutable miracles, we were able to sell our beloved home and were led to the name of John McCollum, a professor at the University of Michigan who agreed to accept me as a private student. On our youngest son Zachary’s first birthday we loaded all that we owned into a rental truck and drove the 2,000-plus miles to Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Three years later, after completing my doctorate, I continued my singing career in New York City with the Goldovsky Opera Company.

Dear Reed or Elder May,
I miss you. I miss you very much! I miss you, very, very much! Do I have to call you Elder May, or can I still call you Reed? I’m glad that you got out of the empty sea. I was worried about you drowning or something. When I asked her, Mom laughed and said that you were fine there, but I was still worried.
I have something that I want to tell you. But maybe I’d better not tell you.
Please write a letter just to me.
Love,Brad
Dear Buddy,
I miss you, too—very much! When I think of how much you will grow and change in two years, sometimes it makes me a little sad that I can’t be there with you. But I know that I’m doing the right thing by going on a mission. Besides, the elders here who are almost ready to go home all say that two years zoom by so fast that you can hardly believe it.
To answer your question, yes, you can still call me Reed instead of Elder May. But do I have to start calling you Brad now, or can I still call you Buddy?
Buddy, I have to admit that I was puzzled for a long time about what you meant by the “empty sea.” Then yesterday I told Elder Watts, my companion, that you were worried about me in the empty sea, and all of a sudden it came to me! Where I was, was not the empty sea, but the MTC. That stands for Missionary Training Center. That’s where I learned about being a missionary and how to teach people the gospel.
The MTC was a good experience, but I’m glad to be in the mission field now. The members here are friendly, and some of them help us a lot. We are teaching some great families. Elder Watts is a hard worker, and we spend a lot of hours trying to find people who want to learn about the restoration of the gospel and the Church.
Write to me again soon. I want to keep in touch and know everything that happens to you, kind of like our talks in the dark across the bedroom as we were going to sleep. Only now we will have our talks by writing letters.
And remember, you can tell me anything, just like always.
Love,Reed
Dear Reed,
It was awesome to get my very own letter from you. I’ll keep writing to you, if you’ll keep writing to me. But I still miss you very, very much! Nobody else calls me Buddy, but you can because I will always be your buddy.
Last night was our second grade Spring Sing. Everyone was there but you. Even Grandpa Richards was there, and your girlfriend Kelly. She says that she misses you very much, but I know that she doesn’t miss you as much as I do.
After the Sing we went to get ice-cream cones, and we talked about you. Mom and Dad said that you seem grown-up now. Natalie and Rachel said that they’re proud to be the sisters of a missionary. Scooter didn’t say anything because he’s too young.
I ate two scoops on my cone, one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of your favorite, pralines-and-cream. I did it for you.
I still have something I need to tell you, but I’m still afraid to tell you.
Love,Buddy
Dear Reed,
I know that I just wrote to you yesterday, but I have to write to you again today. If you were home, we could talk about it, but you’re not here.
Last night Melissa came to our house. She brought chocolate chip cookies that she made. She gave me a big hug and said that I look just like a little Reed, like somebody took you and let some of the air out. She’s pretty! Anyway, she says that she misses you very much.
Tell me, Reed, does Melissa know about Kelly? Does Kelly know about Melissa? What am I supposed to do with all your girlfriends? What if they both come over at the same time?
I told Melissa that she should send some chocolate chip cookies to you. I can’t tell you what she said because she wants it to be a surprise. If I can figure out a way to do it, I’ll send you some pralines-and-cream ice cream too.
Maybe next time I’ll tell you my secret problem.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)

When I was in high school, I almost always felt far away from God and Jesus Christ. Everyone around me appeared to be so much more spiritual and had all these neat spiritual experiences.
I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. I attended church, read the scriptures, prayed, and went to the temple when my ward planned temple trips. But I still felt like I was missing something.
It wasn’t until my mission that I realized what that missing puzzle piece was: Jesus Christ.
I had been focusing on doing things rather than focusing on the Savior and becoming a devoted follower of Him.
To be clear, righteous habits are good. Living the commandments helps bring us to Jesus Christ. But sometimes we get so caught up in “church tasks” that we take the Savior out of the very activities that are meant to bring us to Him. This can leave us feeling spiritually empty.
Recently some friends of mine who left the Church told me they’ve never felt happier and more at peace. It was so confusing to me! If this is Christ’s Church, how could that be?
As I listened to my friends’ experiences and concerns, I realized that it wasn’t leaving the Church that brought them peace; it was leaving behind the to-do lists they felt they had to keep up on. Once they left the Church, they also left their spiritual to-do lists behind.
But that is not what the Savior had in mind when He established His Church and gave His commandments.
Elder Donald L. Hallstrom of the Seventy once taught: “Some have come to think of activity in the Church as the ultimate goal. Therein lies a danger. It is possible to be active in the Church and less active in the gospel. Let me stress: activity in the Church is a highly desirable goal; however, it is insufficient.”1
It is possible to be doing the right things but completely miss the why behind them.
It is possible to be doing the right things but completely miss the why behind them.
Sister Tracy Y. Browning, Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, had a significant insight about the Israelites in the New Testament: “Just as we are today, God’s ancient people were invited to see their lives through Him in order to see more of Him in their lives. But by the time of the Savior’s ministry, the Israelites had lost sight of Christ in their observances. …
“… The children of Israel, in this state, believed that the practices and rituals of the law were the path to personal salvation and in part reduced the law of Moses to a set of protocols administered to rule civilian life. This required the Savior to restore focus and clarity to His gospel.”2
Sometimes Satan doesn’t distract members of Christ’s restored Church so they’ll commit serious sins. Instead he takes the very things we think are good and convinces us to see them incorrectly.
As President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught: “Sometimes faithful Latter-day Saints … begin to focus on the ‘appendages’ instead of on the fundamental principles. That is, Satan tempts us to become distracted from the simple and clear message of the restored gospel.”3
Rather than bringing us peace, our efforts to live the gospel can sometimes result in some stress and frustration. This is exactly how Satan wants us to feel about the gospel. If he can’t get us to sin, he will convince us that living the gospel is too hard, too exhausting, and more than we can successfully achieve.
Back in high school, I thought I wasn’t doing enough. That fear of inadequacy was why I didn’t feel as spiritual as those around me.
Although our actions can be signs of our conversion, we can’t allow our outward activities to define our spirituality entirely. If we do, we may begin placing the weight of our salvation on our own shoulders rather than relying on Jesus Christ.
We can’t allow our outward activities to define our spirituality entirely.
President Nelson has urged us to have our focus “riveted on the Savior and His gospel.” 4 This will take us from spiritual checklists to peaceful and joyful conversion in His Church. “Nothing invites the Spirit more than fixing your focus on Jesus Christ.” 5

For many, the seeking requires sacrifice. “After my conversion, I had to wait half a year to be baptized,” recalls Olga Kovárová of Czechoslovakia. “Because we had no baptismal font, we needed to wait until summer when we could be in the woods and not be noticed.” When they reached the reservoir on the night of the baptism, they saw many fishermen. “We waited, and the time dragged on,” she said. Finally, a brother suggested that they pray and ask Heavenly Father for help. “This was my first miracle with a priesthood prayer. Within a few minutes of our quiet prayer, most of the fishermen left the river’s edge. … You can imagine my feelings of joy as I came up out of the water.” Olga was the first young woman convert in Czechoslovakia in almost forty years. When she was confirmed, she was told that through her, “many people would come to the Church.”

I was nervous when I first started serving in the temple because I knew I would have to memorize the words to all the ordinances. I was worried I would mess up, so I spent hours studying the words to make sure I could get them right. And while I’ve heard stories of workers who felt like the Holy Ghost helped them memorize the words faster, that wasn’t my experience.
Sometimes I felt upset that I was struggling to memorize the words. Learning the words to the first ordinance took me almost a month. But looking back, I’ve realized that my struggle was an amazing blessing. I was able to sit in the Lord’s house and study the words of the ordinances for hours. And deepening my understanding of those words brought both peace and power into my life. I was able to recognize the voice of the Lord more clearly and more often when I was both inside and outside the temple.
This experience was a testament to me that Heavenly Father knows us personally and knows what experiences will be the most beneficial to us. The opportunity to contemplate the ordinances gave me a better understanding of what the ordinances say and strengthened my desire to keep the covenants I made in the temple.

I learned as a young high school athlete that rules sometimes are more important than winning. I guess I have shared this experience a time or two around the Church, but I remember when I went in to sign up for varsity baseball. I was 15 years old. I went over to the gym where the head coach was officed. Scared to death, butterflies in my stomach, I knocked on his door. “Come in,” was the reply, and I walked in. He said, “What can I do for you, young man?”

I said, “Where do you sign up for varsity baseball?”

My coach made a very interesting observation. He said, “Do you want to play ball, or do you want to be a champion?” Well, that was kind of crazy. I wanted to play ball.

I said, “I came to play baseball.”

“Well,” he said, “we’re all filled up. Thank you.” And he excused me.

I went out, and he shut the door. There was a drinking fountain there, and I took a drink of water and thought, “Well, now, what’s that all about?”

Fortunately I had the stamina to knock on the door again. He said, “Come in.” I walked in.

I said, “I want to sign up for varsity baseball.”

He said, “I asked you a question. Do you want to play ball or do you want to be a champion?”

Finally it sank in. I said, “I want to be a champion.”

“Oh,” he said. “Then sign here.” He said, “At this school we build champions. We don’t play ball.” There’s a difference I have learned.

Well, the year went on, and somehow I made the team and had some great and glorious experiences. As we came down to the final innings of the season, Fairfax High (our archrival) and Hollywood (which I represented) ended in a dead heat—a tie. There would be a one-game playoff on Friday afternoon on our home field.

Thursday afternoon our coach got us all out on the ball field. We were standing around him, as players do with their coaches, and he was giving us some instruction, fired-up enthusiasm, motivation. Then he turned and said, “Paul, you’ll pitch tomorrow.” I was thrilled but scared.

I want to give you a little flashback. This was an interesting coach, not a member of the Church, but a man who had seen in contests the great ability to build youth. He had each boy on his team sign a contract, not a professional contract, but a contract of rules and regulations. There were some thou shalts and thou shalt nots, and one of them had to do with the Word of Wisdom, although he had never heard of it. He said, “Now, if you’re going to play ball for me, you’ll play according to the rules. Is that understood?”

And I said, “Yes, sir,” as did all the other players. So we signed our contracts, and he kept them on file, and occasionally he would remind us.

Well, as he was giving his pep talk, our all-star second baseman was standing in the circle with his hands on his hips. When the coach made a pass, he stopped and he did a double take. “Jimmy,” he said, “is that a nicotine stain on your finger?” Jimmy put out his hand.

He said, “Yes, sir.”

Then he said, “Well, don’t you know the rule?”

“Well, yes, sir.”

“Did you sign a contract with me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know the penalty?”

“Yes, sir.” And this was being said in front of the whole team.

He said, “You’ve lost your privilege. Turn in your uniform.

I almost shouted, but I didn’t, “Coach, wait till tomorrow! We’ve got a game.”

Jimmy was batting .380 and as a second baseman had not made an error in league play. And he now had to turn in his uniform. Our coach was the kind of person who kept close to the boys, even when he disciplined them. He didn’t lose him, but he wouldn’t let him play.

The next day I drew the assignment to pitch. The game went into extra innings, and they beat us one to nothing in the top of the 13th. Do you know how it happened? A ground ball was hit to second, and the ball went through the substitute’s legs, and that proved to be the winning run. Well, I went home that night and literally cried myself to sleep because I wanted to win. You see, I hate to lose.

Well, that was many years ago. I thank God this day for a great man, a great coach, who taught me that playing according to the rules was more important than winning.

I have learned this truth through a personal experience that, though seemingly insignificant, left a lasting impression on me. At the age of 22, while serving in the French Air Force in Paris, I was thrilled to learn that Elder Neal A. Maxwell, an Apostle of the Lord, would be speaking at a conference on the Champs-Élysées. However, just before the event, I received orders to drive a senior officer to the airport at the exact time the conference was set to take place.

I was disappointed. But determined to attend, I dropped the officer off and rushed to the conference. After finding a parking spot, I sprinted down the Champs-Élysées to the meeting place and arrived breathless with only five minutes left before the meeting ended. Just as I entered, I heard Elder Maxwell say, “I will now give you an apostolic blessing.” In that instant, I had a beautiful, unforgettable spiritual experience. I was overcome by the Spirit, and the words of the blessing seemed to penetrate every fiber of my soul as though they were meant just for me.

What I experienced that day was a small yet powerful manifestation of a comforting aspect of God’s plan for His children: When circumstances beyond our control prevent us from fulfilling the righteous desires of our hearts, the Lord will compensate in ways that allow us to receive His promised blessings.

Many teens in the South run to Florida beaches for spring break, but cousins Marty Craig, an elder in the Newnan Ward, Jonesboro Georgia Stake, and John ‘Mac’ Williams, a recent convert and priest in the Woodstock Ward, East Marietta Georgia Stake, headed to Honduras.
And it wasn’t for fun and games. They worked hard to help finish a dam for an 11-acre reservoir to power a generator for a boys’ school. Not only that, but they helped collect shirts, hats, candy, and machinery in Georgia to take down to the school. Oh, and of course they milked cows, helped build a new building, and shoveled and bagged rice. The school, “El Sembrador,” is almost self-sufficient now.
They also brought four copies of the Book of Mormon with them and personally presented them to some of the young men at the school. Marty is now continuing his missionary work full-time in the Dominican Republic. Mac will follow him into the mission field as soon as he graduates.

To cite another example, after our fifth child was born, my wife and I did not have any more children. After more than 10 years we concluded that our family would not be any larger, which grieved us. Then one day, while my wife was in the temple, the Spirit whispered to her that she would have another child. That prophetic revelation was fulfilled about a year and a half later with the birth of our sixth child, for whom we had waited 13 years.

Twenty years later as a bishop, I had the opportunity to see the effectiveness of a council not just in the meetinghouse but also in the mountains. During a Saturday activity, a member of our quorum had been lost in the forest overnight. As far as we knew, he was alone and without warm clothes, food, or shelter. We searched for him without success.
My memory is that we prayed together, the priests quorum and I, and I then asked each to speak. I listened intently, and it seemed to me that they did too, to each other. After a while, a feeling of peace settled on us. I felt that our lost quorum member was safe and dry somewhere.
It became clear to me what the quorum was to do and not to do. When the people who found him described the place in the woods where he had gone for safety, I felt that I recognized it. But the larger miracle for me was to see a united priesthood council’s faith in Jesus Christ bringing revelation to the man with the priesthood keys. We all grew that day in the power of the priesthood.

The seventies led us to graduate school at the University of Iowa. Wouldn’t you know it – our babysitter for the three years there was a Primary President. Our son, Arthur, joined their then eight children (eventually ten) and became part of their family and part of their ward. We, the parents, were on the outside looking in on a wonderful transformation of the wards newest “Sunbeam.” Arthur would come home and tell us he was special and wanted a duty in the house! We did NOT know what to say or do … except be impressed. Remember the earlier quote from Richard L. Evans?
We are the sum of all our actions and attitudes and utterances,
of all things stored away in body and mind and memory.
We wanted these values in our little family. We were still experiencing turbulent times being on a college campus. We were just beginning as parents and didn’t have a clue how to continue. We watched and absorbed the Aamodt family’s activities. They eventually gave us a family home evening manual. We didn’t know what the D&C thing meant but we did sit down together on Sunday evening, pop some popcorn and watch “The Wonderful World of Disney” each week. Our babysitters became stability in a time if uncertainty.
We observed this family for three years. They took us to their daughter’s baptism, the yearly children’s sacrament program, a dessert auction, and to Nauvoo to see the “City of Joseph” pageant. We attended the ward so infrequently (once or twice a year) that we were introduced as “Arthur’s parents.”
While in Nauvoo, the testimonies of the missionary couples impressed Scarlett and questions arose as to how these couples could leave their families. “Don’t you miss your grandchildren? “You can’t go home and see them for how long?” “Why do they always end their speeches with ‘I know these things to be true…’” “Is this something they’ve memorized?” During the return trip to Iowa City, we asked, “So, where are those gold plates now?” WHERE? (we thought…) Well, that’s convenient! This trip was a definite turning point in our interest in the church even after we were told where those plates ended up.
Before graduating, I became ill and needed blood. Members of the ward donated blood while the Aamodt family moved us into their home.