Gospel Story Finder

It started out with my sister reminding me how old I was by telling this little account. She said, “Remember when you returned home from your mission and you were invited to a post-mission interview with Levi Edgar Young, one of the Presidents of the First Quorum of the Seventy?”
The number of missionaries in those days was so small that those returning were given an interview by a General Authority. As the interview concluded, I was instructed to go home and tell my stake president that I was to be ordained a seventy. Puffed with pride, I returned home and informed my stake president the instruction I had received. The stake president happened to be my father. He never acted on the instruction—I was never ordained a seventy.
This puzzled me, and I sought out my mother to inquire why my father had never acted on the instruction. My mother gave me some wise counsel. She said, “Don’t worry about it. He is your stake president, and he knows what calling is right for you.” A short time later I was called into the stake Young Men’s presidency, which led to an event where I met a beautiful young lady who soon became my wife. My sister had brought back a very pleasant memory. Then she startled me with this statement, “At last you’ve made it to the seventies.”

The deepest taproot of any human life is the one we might call faith. Do you remember Alma likening the word to a seed? This passage tells us how important it is to prepare a place for the seed to grow. Let me tell you about a stake Primary president in Hawaii who had prepared herself. Last fall her six-year-old son was run over by a car. Though the emergency medical team arrived before he died, she told me that when she picked up his little body and held it close, she knew he would not live. Others who knew her marveled at her great strength in the face of this terrible tragedy. “How did you get prepared to meet the loss?” I asked her. This is what she told me:

In the summer before the accident, I began to slip into a feeling of deep depression. I tried to talk myself out of it, but I could not. I prayed and I thought, and I had the strong impression that I was not doing my scripture reading. Another strong impression came to me: I was not attending the temple regularly. I resolved to do something in response to these feelings. I began to read my scriptures regularly, and I began to go to the temple twice a month. As I began to do them consistently, a strength and a peace came to me. When the accident happened, I was fortified. I could go on because I knew that he had died a celestial being, and I could become more nearly like him if I kept closely tuned.

That’s one person’s experience, but it illustrates how she sent out her little root-hairs to find more of the life-giving water that sustains.

Our family recently enjoyed a memorable vacation in the eastern United States. The journey began in New York City, with its bright lights, baseball, and theatre. After a quick stop at Niagara Falls, we set our sights on Church history. We visited Harmony, Palmyra, and Kirtland and then gathered together for one last family meeting before departing for home. Everyone was invited to share a memorable experience. After several family members had shared, our granddaughter Maggie said, "My favorite place was the Sacred Grove." I asked her if she would like to tell us why. She was quiet for a moment. We could tell by her expression that she was deep in thought. Her sweet mom recognized that she was struggling and encouraged her, saying, "Sometimes it's hard to find the right words, isn't it?" Maggie replied, "Yes, it is. I don't know how to explain it. It's just something I felt there."

It was something she felt—something she couldn't describe in words. But with childlike faith, Maggie trusted the promptings of the Spirit that entered into her mind and heart in that sacred place.

Two weeks after the Teton Dam broke, Deron, Kristin, Karen, and Michael Tinsley and Ryan, Kristen, and Russell Ridges baked banana bread and sold it, to raise money for the Idaho flood fund.
Before they went out to sell their bread, everyone met together to gain a little confidence. Five-year-old Russell knew just what to say if he was turned down at someone’s door. “I’ll just say, ‘Maybe you haven’t had time to read the paper lately. In Idaho some people’s houses washed right away, and they couldn’t ever find them again.’”
After the first day, however, no one was bashful about selling, for almost all the neighbors were glad to buy their bread. Some people phoned in orders, and others sent over bananas to help the children make more bread. By the end of the week $80.76 had been earned.
The boys and girls were all glad that they could do something for others. And they felt sure that if their homes were ever destroyed, someone would as gladly help them too.

Let me tell you of just two cheerful givers in my experience. First, whenever I think of the widow’s mite, it brings to mind an experience in a small branch meeting in a row house on a street in a large eastern city in which branch my wife and I served for 18 months. It was located in a very distressed intercity neighborhood that had been burned over during the riots accompanying the Martin Luther King assassination in 1968. Much of it had not been rebuilt. The people in the branch paid their tithing in part with coins and in doing so paid an honest tithe. At one of our meetings, a woman handed me an envelope with the tithing slip and the relevant bills and coins and then after doing that said to me, “If you belong to a church, you ought to contribute. I can’t contribute much, but I can contribute the sacrament bread,” and handed me a baggie with two little pieces of bread in it. As we used her bread for the sacrament, the whole experience carried an additional meaning that day. Going through my mind continually was the verse dealing with the widow’s mite and that she, out of her poverty, had given more than they all.

I went with my family to visit my parents’ village for a New Year celebration. It had been three years since we had visited last, and we were looking forward to seeing friends and family members again. When we arrived, we were happily welcomed.
When New Year’s Eve came, we gathered with others for a traditional ceremony to wish protection, long life, and prosperity to the oldest son of each family. I am the oldest son in my family. I learned that all those taking part would be expected to drink wine as part of the ceremony.
I was very worried. I knew that drinking the wine would be breaking the Word of Wisdom. But I also knew that if I did not drink the wine, I might be punished for being disrespectful—and my family might be punished too. Then I remembered what my mother had taught me: when you find yourself in a situation you cannot control, you should pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him to help you.
I prayed silently, “Heavenly Father, let Thy Spirit guide me and help me to do what is right.”
When it was my turn to drink the wine, I was nervous, but I spoke loudly and clearly. “My body is a temple. I will not break the Word of Wisdom,” I said.
The village elder was very surprised. He turned to me and said, “You seem very sure of what you are doing. Please, we would like to hear more of your views.”
My family and I were not punished, and our faith was strengthened. I know Heavenly Father helped me have the courage to choose the right.

When I was 13 years old, my family lived on property in Granger, Utah, and every Saturday morning, my brother and I would get up early to start our chores. On one particular Saturday, my chore was to mow the lawn. We had a pretty big yard, so I had to get up extra early to get everything done before it got too hot.
As I was putting the lawn mower away in the shed after I’d finished, I heard the door to the back of our home close. I looked up and saw my father motion for me to come over and sit with him on the back porch steps of our home. We sat shoulder to shoulder, admiring the beautiful sunrise, as I waited for him to speak to me.
After a while he asked me, “Son, tell me about what you want to do in your life. What are your goals? What are your thoughts about the future?”
I told him my goals and dreams, including things like amazing sporting accomplishments and becoming an attorney. When I finished, he said, “That’s wonderful. You can accomplish anything in this life with our Heavenly Father’s help.”
Then he said, “Son, there is something that I would like to talk to you about, and I want you to know that I have prayed about what I’m going to share with you now. And I have prayed that the message I will give to you will be imprinted on your soul.
“What I am going to say to you will greatly affect how you deal with the challenges and the heartaches you will certainly face in your life. And it will come to influence how you face the successes that you have in your life more than anything else that I know to say to you.”
He paused, and I curiously waited to find out what this amazing piece of advice would be.
“Protect the private times of your life,” he said. “You know those moments of your life when you think, ‘There’s no one else around, nobody else knows what I’m doing, and nothing that I’m going to do during this moment will have any negative effect on anyone else’? You know those times?
“What you do in those moments, during these private times of your life, will determine the level of confidence you will have before God and men. It will determine your ability to concentrate and focus on difficult and complex challenges in your life more than anything else I could teach you. And it will have more to do with how you grow and raise your own family and how you strive to draw near to our Heavenly Father than anything else I could say to you. Son, protect the private times of your life.”
I listened carefully to that advice. And just like he said, that moment became locked in my mind and in my heart. Those words are forever imprinted on my soul.
“You know those moments of your life when you think, ‘There’s no one else around, nobody else knows what I’m doing, and nothing that I’m going to do during this moment will have any negative effect on anyone else’?”
As I reflected on what my dad taught me, I realized that my father was not only referring to the importance of staying away from things like pornography and misconduct. He was advising me to fill those private times with positive things. About a year after that conversation, I finished reading the Book of Mormon on my own for the first time. And I came to receive a witness by the Spirit, in a private moment, that the Book of Mormon is the word of God. And I was able to make the connection between the importance of it being the word of God and this being the Lord’s Church.
In those private moments, I gained a testimony that the prophet of my youth, President Spencer W. Kimball, was a mouthpiece of the Lord. And it is on that foundation that I have continued to know that each prophet after, including President Russell M. Nelson today, is the Lord’s chosen, called, and anointed mouthpiece to the world.
For me, those private moments have been the foundation on which my testimony rests.
Since that morning on the back porch steps of my childhood home, protecting the private times of my life has meant not only doing those things that guarded each moment against error or sin but filling those moments with spiritually and physically uplifting activities. Some of those include listening to good music, praying, reading the scriptures or other wholesome books, and physical exercise. I try and fill those private times with a focus on developing my talents and working on my hobbies. I have found that doing so brings me lasting joy rather than momentary happiness.
Protecting the private times of my life has meant not only doing those things that guarded each moment against error or sin but filling those moments with spiritually and physically uplifting activities.
During my youth, as I worked on protecting the private times of my life, I made personal goals in areas where I wanted to improve, such as setting goals to read the Book of Mormon, improve my race time in the 400-meter run, serve a full-time mission, and attend a university. I strived to use the time I had to progress and develop my skills. Setting and striving to achieve those goals has blessed my life with better physical health, strengthened testimony, inner peace, and lasting joy.
I am so grateful for the advice my father gave me all those years ago to protect the private times of my life. I know his counsel has helped me to confront the challenges of life and feel the confidence of knowing that I have a Father in Heaven who loves me and to whom I can go during sweet hours of prayer, all during the private times of my life (see Doctrine and Covenants 121:45–46). As you protect those moments in your life and fill them with wholesome, uplifting activities you will see and feel our Heavenly Father’s blessings of peace, increased confidence and lasting joy pour into your life.

Some Saints began arriving in the city weeks before April 1893 general conference. Lucy Flake and her husband started their trip from Arizona to Utah on 8 March 1893. “We went by team,” she noted in her journal, “as we hadn’t the money to go on train.” The group “consisted of William, myself, Sister Lanning, Joel and John, Henry and Emma Tanner and two of their children,” she wrote. The journey by wagon was “a cold hard trip, through snow and mud.” At Beaver, Utah, the Flake family finally boarded a train. “William and I took our first train ride together,” Lucy recalled. “We went with a large company of our friends and relatives from Beaver City to Salt Lake. We were joined at every station by others who were going to the Dedication.”

As I sat across from a member of the stake presidency, my heart started pounding. I had felt jumpy since the stake clerk had called to set an appointment. Would he know I was not worthy to serve?

I had decided that some sins would be easier to take to the judgment bar of God than to reveal here on earth, thinking it would be selfish to disclose things that would bring pain or embarrassment to my wife. Better to overcome them by myself and live with the burden. The only problem was that I couldn’t overcome them on my own.

I sat there as the counselor in the stake presidency extended a call to serve. He asked, “Brother, would you accept this calling?” How I wanted to shout, “Yes!” Instead, almost involuntarily, I heard myself say, “I cannot; I need to clear up some sins.”

Anxiety and relief poured into me simultaneously as I confessed the general nature of the sin. He asked if I had spoken with my bishop. “No.” My wife? “No.” He shook my hand, smiled, told me he was proud of me for confessing, and directed me to talk with the bishop and my wife.

I obeyed, telling my wife first—thereby eliminating my biggest fear. She still loved me! Yes, she was upset, and we would have to work out some things, but she loved me and encouraged me to visit the bishop.

When I went to see the bishop, he immediately welcomed me into his office. With difficulty, I tried to articulate why I was there. After hiding my sins so long, I hardly knew where to start. He lovingly encouraged me to come clean. I explained the general nature of my sins and asked for time to provide the full inventory of my misdeeds. He readily agreed.

I still had yet to fully confess, but I felt the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders. I also felt a renewed hope of freedom, finally, from this burden.

I spent the next weeks praying, reading the scriptures, and creating my inventory to present to both my bishop and my Heavenly Father. First I took my list to Heavenly Father, with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, to let Him know I was sorry and sincerely desired to change. I set another appointment with the bishop and shared my list in its entirety. He didn’t frown, yell, or chastise me; instead, he gave me a big hug. He let me know of his love and the Lord’s love, informing me that I was now on the path of true repentance. I knew it was true.

Confessing my sins, formerly my biggest fear, became one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. It was the first step for me to truly understand the gift and the healing power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

The best decision I have ever made was confirmed through this type of answer.

Monica and I were introduced to each other by my cousin. We hung out together in a group once or twice and that was the end of our connection for several months. She did give me her phone number. There is some debate as to whether I used it or not. In any case, we were both busy with life and working hard at our education and personal improvement.

Several months later, I woke up early on the Fourth of July. I did not have plans to run in the 10K race that day, but I felt like running and decided to register at the race and go for it. I arrived, signed in, and went to the starting line. There I saw Monica and we talked. This time perhaps something was different. We reconnected and soon realized that we were running the same marathon and that both of our running partners had bailed out on us. Monica's friend had gotten engaged and didn’t have time to train. My brother went on 8 mile run with me and decided that he was not interested. Monica and I began running together and after several hundred miles we started to date. We had many conversations about important aspects of life and faith as we ran. There were perhaps hundreds of moments in which I felt confirmation about our relationship. I don't recall the specific moment that I “knew” that I should marry Monica if she would have me. I do recall that when I prayed, presenting to the Lord my carefully considered decision that I wanted to marry her, I felt very clearly the prompting that I had already been given my answer many times.

Now, her side of the story may be more complicated. Maybe she will tell you about it sometime.

One of my family's unanswered prayers is to have children. My husband, Marc, and I experience unexplained fertility issues, and for several years, I wasn’t sure how this painful experience would ever be for our good.

Desperately wanting to be parents, even getting pregnant a couple of times—but ultimately ending in miscarriages. Our hearts broke. The ache was amplified by well-meaning but unaware comments from people in our community. These people didn’t know that building a family wasn’t something we were putting off; it was something that was consuming almost every waking moment of our lives for several years.

Eight years ago, after our second miscarriage, my grief was almost unbearable. My body and emotions spiraled. I felt so depressed, betrayed by my body, and angry, oh so angry, I didn’t even want to pray.

And some days I didn’t. But I kept at it. I continued going to Church, knowing that God would heal and mend our broken hearts. During this time, I listened to the sacrament prayers with such intensity. I desperately needed to receive the promise “…that they may always have his Spirit to be with them.” [33]

Another name for the Spirit is the comforter. In John 14:18, the Savior promises His disciples, “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” [34]

We needed the Spirit to comfort us during one of our most difficult experiences.

Slowly, I started to trust God with my hopes and dreams again.

President Jeffrey R. Holland shared, “God expects you to have enough faith and determination and enough trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. In fact, He expects you not simply to face the future (that sounds pretty grim and stoic); He expects you to embrace and shape the future—to love it and rejoice in it and delight in your opportunities.
God is anxiously waiting for the chance to answer your prayers and fulfill your dreams, just as He always has. But He can't if you don't pray, and He can't if you don't dream. In short, He can't if you don't believe.” [35]

Through this trial, God began shaping us into something we could not become otherwise—we learned empathy and compassion, we learned to understand invisible struggles, we learned to assume positive intent, and to listen without judgment. This experience has refined us, and we are not defined by being childless here on earth. This season of childlessness has allowed us opportunities to give, love, serve, and support others in capacities that otherwise would have been nearly impossible.

I can see His promises unfolding—that all these things truly have and can be “…for [our] good.” [36]

You have the unique blessing of serving in a Church calling at a very young age. Leadership opportunities abound in young single adult and young married stakes. While serving as a stake and ward leader on campus, I enjoyed associating with fellow students who were faithful in their Church service while being diligent in their secular studies. I observed that the more attention students gave to serving faithfully, the more successful they were in their studies. I learned intimately how our Heavenly Father guides and directs us in ways beyond our abilities and capabilities. I learned to never doubt that I was called by the Lord. Being “willing to take upon [ourselves] the name of [Jesus Christ], and always remember him and keep his commandments” will invoke the covenant promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]." [16]

I recall an accounting professor inviting me into his office. In a very kind and loving way, he said, “Aley, your work in my class is mediocre. I know you can do much better. The Lord expects it.” He then expressed his appreciation, love, and counsel. I felt the Holy Ghost testify to me that what he said was true. I left his office feeling uplifted, not hurt or discouraged. His approach was an example of gentleness, meekness, love unfeigned, and kindness. [17] Not only did he change my life to be a better student, he also changed my life to serve more faithfully and diligently as a disciple.

One day, when I was 13 or 14 years old, I went to the grocery store that was a couple of blocks from my school. The store had spectacular ice cream, and my classmates and I went there often during our lunch hour to get ice-cream cones.
One day when we had our ice-cream cones, I looked down at my feet and saw a $10 bill lying on the floor. A U.S. $10 bill more than 50 years ago was really something to a young man. Satan tried to tempt me with: “Think what you could do with this $10 bill.”
Because of the teachings of my parents, I didn’t listen. I took the money over to the cashier and told her I found it on the floor. She said, “Well, you are an honest young man. Let me write your name on this note, and if someone doesn’t claim this $10 bill, I will see that you get it back.”
I left it with her. That afternoon a young man came in to see if she had seen a $10 bill. She said, “Yes, and here is the fellow’s name who found the money.”
This boy looked me up to thank me, and we became close friends.
But that is just the start of the story. Because of our friendship and his good feeling toward me, he introduced me to his family. As the children in the family grew up and married, I became a good friend with their families as well. And over a lifetime, I have been a close friend to 10 or 12 families just because of that $10 bill. I have been in their homes. As a bishop, I have interviewed some of their children. I have been invited to temple weddings and other family occasions during the past 50 years. I have enjoyed great friendships, not only with those kids but also with their parents over that time. They are a wonderful family.
I am grateful that I wasn’t really tempted to keep that $10 bill, because my wonderful father and mother taught me the principle of honesty. I am grateful for the blessings that have come to me throughout my life from being honest—honesty has opened many doors. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to look people in the eye and say, “I have always tried to be honest.”
I have talked to my own nine children about being honest. I told them that when you see a $10 bill, you really don’t know how much it is worth. It has a face value, but my friendship with that family is worth more than a fortune. They are such a blessing in my life.

In early 2002, while I was serving in the Relief Society general presidency, the Church instituted a security system that required those of us who frequented the extended Church campus in Salt Lake City– including Temple Square, the Conference Center, Church Office Building, Relief Society Building, and so forth–to wear ID badges. Because our presidency had served nearly five years, we were easily recognized, and I don’t remember ever actually using my new ID badge.

In one of the Saturday sessions of the April 2002 General Conference, our presidency was released, but we continued to come and go to that conference in the usual manner for General Authorities and general officers–through a series of pedestrian tunnels that connect the various buildings on the Church campus.

I had been assigned to speak early Sunday morning at a devotional for all of the General Conference hosts and hostesses, and I was to be in the Conference Center at 6 AM. As I drove to the Conference Center that morning, it dawned on me that heavy double doors located at various places along the tunnel might not be open that early.

Sure enough, the first door in the tunnel was locked. I noticed an intercom on the wall, pushed the buzzer, and asked the Church Security officer who answered if he would let me through the door. “Sister Dew, do you have your ID badge with you?” I thought but didn’t say, “You know who I am. Why do you need to see my badge?” but I rummaged through my binder and found the badge. The officer then said, “Just wave it in front of the sensor, and the doors will open.”

“Seriously. That’s fantastic! What else will this badge open?”

He laughed and said, “You have a high clearance. Your badge gives you access to most doors throughout the Church campus. Didn’t you know that?”

“Amazing!”

I was already wondering what else my badge would open when he brought me down to earth: “Wasn’t your presidency just released, Sister Dew?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Well, enjoy your badge today because tonight at midnight, it will be deactivated.”

As promised, my badge opened the doors through the tunnel, and also, as promised, the next day it no longer worked. The privilege was gone.

The irony was unmistakable. For months, I had carried with me a badge that gave me privileges I had never made the effort or took the time to understand.

Forty-five Scouts and eight leaders from the La Verne California Stake hiked a 15-mile segment of the Mormon Battalion Trail.
At the first night’s campfire, the history of the battalion was retold. The following morning, the Scouts began their hike up a canyon. Unlike the scenery the battalion members found, these modern Scouts had to make their way across freeways and train tracks. Dan Brown, 12, whose great-great-grandfather was a member of the Mormon Battalion, said, “I learned how miserable the march must have been. I only hiked 15 miles. They traveled over 2,000.”
The La Verne Stake Scouts hiked another segment of the trail near San Diego last year. They hope to hike additional sections of the trail in coming years.

In 1957, Sister Naomi Randall was to make arrangements for a new song to be written for Primary general conference. She called Mildred Pettit, a former Primary General Board member who had written songs and operettas for children, and asked Sister Pettit to help with the music. Sister Randall said she would write the words for the song, then send them to Sister Pettit.
Before retiring that night, Sister Randall prayed for help in finding the right words for the song. Some hours later she awakened, got out of bed, and wrote the words for three verses. Then she thanked Heavenly Father for helping her. Later she mailed the lyrics to Sister Pettit.
Sister Pettit also wanted to have the music the way the Lord wanted it. She felt that she knew how the melody was supposed to go, but she worked on the closing phrase over and over and had her children sing it many times until she was finally satisfied that it was right. The two women worked on the chorus together, and within a week the song was completed.
Later Elder Spencer W. Kimball suggested that “Teach me all that I must know” be changed to “I must do.” He explained that “to know isn’t enough, … We have to do something.”
Sister Randall believes that “we can learn the gospel through songs,” and that “the truths that are sung into our hearts will help us at critical times in our lives.”

You could start in your room today. Is there an unfinished school paper somewhere in the stacks? (I assume there are stacks there; I think I know your room.) Perhaps it is typed and apparently ready to turn in. Why bother more with it? I learned why during a religion class I taught once at Ricks College (now Brigham Young University–Idaho). I was teaching from section 25 of the Doctrine and Covenants. In that section Emma Smith is told that she should give her time to “writing, and to learning much” (verse 8). About three rows back sat a blonde girl whose brow wrinkled as I urged the class to be diligent in developing writing skills. She raised her hand and said, “That doesn’t seem reasonable to me. All I’ll ever write are letters to my children.” That brought laughter all around the class. Just looking at her I could imagine a full quiver of children around her, and I could even see the letters she would write. Maybe writing powerfully wouldn’t matter to her.

Then a young man stood up near the back. He had said little during the term; I’m not sure he had ever spoken before. He was older than the other students, and he was shy. He asked if he could speak. He told in a quiet voice of having been a soldier in Vietnam. One day, in what he thought would be a lull, he had left his rifle and walked across his fortified compound to mail call. Just as he got a letter in his hand, he heard a bugle blowing and shouts and mortar and rifle fire coming ahead of the swarming enemy. He fought his way back to his rifle, using his hands as weapons. With the men who survived, he drove the enemy out. Then he sat down among the living, and some of the dead, and he opened his letter. It was from his mother. She wrote that she’d had a spiritual experience that assured her that he would live to come home if he were righteous. In my class, the boy said quietly, “That letter was scripture to me. I kept it.” And he sat down.

“Although I am far past the age of youth, the situation here so touched my heart that I felt duty-bound to reply. Fifteen years ago, when I was 18, I joined the Church. I was at that time and still am the only member of my immediate family who has ever joined.

“Through the years there have been many situations where the easy thing to do would have been to ‘honor my parents’ and do what they said, but I always felt I honored my parents more by strictly adhering to the gospel teachings.

“When I was 21, my husband-to-be, knowing of my family situation, asked where I wanted to be married. I replied that we had been taught to marry in the temple, and although it caused hard feelings at the time, we did just that. My family got over it, and now, 13 years later, when we are trying to teach our children correct principles, we tell them that we were married in the temple and that they should be married there also.

“Over the years we have insisted on being allowed to attend our Church meetings, to pay our tithes and offerings, to fast, and not to party on Sunday, and all of it has had a real effect. Not long ago my mother said to my husband, ‘I think that joining the Church was the best thing Diane ever did.’”

Many years ago, when I was engaged in the private practice of the law, a lawyer in Texas engaged me to take care of a legal problem for him in Utah.
This legal matter was satisfactorily adjusted by the payment of a sum of money, in the form of a check to our office. I forwarded the check to my friend in Texas without first cashing it, with the understanding that a portion of it would be returned to settle part of the obligation through our office.
After I sent the check, I heard nothing more from my friend. Letters, telegrams, and telephone calls went unanswered for many months. I became concerned because it was not my money and if he did not keep his word I was honor bound to make good the loss. The obvious solution was to file a complaint against him. There lurked in my mind, however, the possibility of a far more subtle approach.
I recalled how, as a boy, I had been taught by my mother the words of the Savior, as recorded by Matthew, that tell us that true Christians are supposed to pray for those who despitefully use them (see Matt. 5:44). I certainly felt that I had been despitefully used. I happened to be serving as a bishop in the Church at that time, and I chastised myself because I was something less of a Christian than I ought to be. I had not first considered the direction of the Master. At an appropriate place and time, I went to my knees and uttered a simple but sincere prayer for the well-being of this man in Texas. I am ashamed to say that this was the first time in my life when the sole and only purpose of a prayer was in the interest of one who, in my opinion, had not done well by me. The prayer seemed to have been almost instantaneously heard and brought dramatic results. In the time that it takes for an airmail letter to come from Texas, there arrived a communication from this man containing the promised money. In the letter was an explanation that he had been seriously ill, had been in the hospital, and had had to close his office but now was doing better. He asked our pardon and apologized for the inconvenience that this caused.
I relate this experience without apology to anyone who might think that I was weak, inadequate, or foolish for having humbly sought to follow a commandment of the Savior for a solution to a practical problem. The price of discipleship is obedience. In many languages, the word disciple has the same root as the word discipline. Self-discipline and self-control are consistent and permanent characteristics of the followers of Jesus.

When the elders visited our home for the second lesson, we immediately asked them if we could be baptized. They looked at each other and started to cry with happiness, knowing that we had received an answer directly from God. Two weeks later we both got baptized. What a wonderful blessing that a co-worker and his wife opened their mouth to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and helped us to find the Church of God on earth. They also personally taught us about the temple and were present for our sealing day one year later in the Dominican Republic, Santo Domingo Temple. Preaching the gospel is everyone’s duty. The Lord said, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:19).