Gospel Story Finder

Several years ago our daughter had a profound experience on her mission. With her approval, I share an excerpt of what she wrote to us that week:
“Yesterday a returning member asked us to come over as soon as possible. When we arrived, we found her on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Through the tears, we found out that she had lost her job, was going to be evicted from her apartment, and once again become homeless.”
Our daughter continued: “I started frantically searching my scriptures, trying to find something—anything—to help her. As I was looking for the perfect verse, I thought, ‘What am I doing? This is not what Christ would do. This is not a problem that I can solve, but this is a literal daughter of God who needs my help.’ So I closed my scriptures, knelt beside her, and held her while we cried together, until she was ready to stand up and face this trial.”
After this woman was comforted, our daughter then used the scriptures to try and help her understand the reality of her divine worth and to teach her one of the most fundamental truths of our existence—that we are beloved sons and daughters of God, a God that feels perfect compassion for us when we suffer and is ready to assist us as we stand back up.

Listen to José and a powerful experience he had while growing up.

This was when I was nine years old. I was in a Catholic elementary school. It was run by nuns. They were very, very strict, and I remember one day during recess that I was playing soccer in the yard and I kicked the ball and hit a window and broke the window. It was very scary at the time. One of the nuns came out and she yelled at me—she reprimanded me very harshly and told me to go home and tell my parents what had happened. I remember walking very, very slowly, scared, and trying not to get there. But I was very, very scared, and when I finally got there, my mom opened the door and I think she noticed how scared I was. I was pale and just looking terrible, and I told her what had happened, that I had kicked the ball and broken a window. I was just expecting her to do the same thing that the nun had done to me, just reprimand me.

Note how José’s mother reacted to him.

But instead, she told me not to worry about it and she hugged me, and I felt a sense of relief and also of appreciation for having a mother that would understand and put her love for me above my mistakes.

This story took place in the USA.
Kevin turned around in the computer chair. He hit random keys on the keyboard.
“Mom, can I play the racing game yet?” he called.
Mom looked in from the kitchen. “After you finish your homework.”
Kevin sighed. How was he supposed to focus on homework? He was so close to beating the next level of his favorite computer game. And his homework was, well, homework.
He guessed he could at least start on it. He scrolled through a website. It sure didn’t look as cool as the racing game.
Then Kevin saw a link. He clicked on it. The link took him to a website with pictures of people wearing no clothes.
This is bad, he thought. I should leave it. Kevin looked over his shoulder. No one was watching him. He looked at a few more pictures. He was just curious.
Kevin started to feel a little sick inside. He quickly closed the website. He tried to go back to his homework. It’s OK, Kevin thought. I just saw just a few pictures. But the bad feeling didn’t go away.
Kevin felt like he should talk to Mom about the website. But he was scared. What if she got mad?
That night, after dinner, Kevin helped Mom wash the dishes.
“Are you feeling OK?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin said.
But he wasn’t OK. He felt like he was going to cry. The feeling that he should tell Mom came back. But Kevin was still scared.
Heavenly Father, please help me, he prayed silently. He felt a little better.
“Can I talk to you?” Kevin asked.
“Of course,” Mom said. “What do you want to talk about?”
Kevin looked at the floor. He wasn’t sure how to start. “When I was doing my homework, I looked at a site that had pictures of people without clothes. I was just curious. But now I can’t forget what I saw.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Mom said. She gave Kevin a hug. “Curiosity is normal. You know that those things are bad, and you shouldn’t be looking at them. But the good thing is that you were honest. You’ll feel better now because you told me.”
“You’re not mad?” Kevin asked.
“Of course not,” Mom said. “I love you. I want to help you. And so does Heavenly Father. He can always help you make things right.”
The sick feeling left Kevin’s stomach.
“I was scared to tell you,” he said. “But I felt better after I said a prayer.”
“It sounds like the Holy Ghost helped you be brave!” Mom said.
Kevin had felt calm and peaceful when he prayed. But even before he prayed, he had felt like he needed to talk to Mom.
“I think the Holy Ghost helped me the whole time,” Kevin said. “He told me the pictures were bad. And He told me I needed to tell you what happened.”
“I’m always here if you need to talk about things like this,” Mom said. “I won’t get mad. Let’s work together to make a computer safety plan.”
Kevin smiled. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”
Illustration by Laura Catrinella

I have often felt feelings of fear or weakness as I have been called of the Lord. One example is when I was out of town at a professional conference and received a phone call from a Church leader asking if I would be willing to serve as the ward clerk. I remember thinking, “Can I really do this?” I had not grown up in the Church and had very little knowledge of how the clerk’s office operated, though the clerk seemed to do many important things. However, when I got down on my knees and prayed to know how I should respond, I felt a confirming witness that I was to accept this Church calling and that I would be able to perform the duties associated with it—and that is exactly what happened. The Lord did qualify me, and He did send others to help me.

I had just turned 21 and was working as a server in a local ski resort’s restaurant. One afternoon as I finished cleaning the dining room, another server handed me a book and said he wanted me to have it. I thanked him and accepted it.
I looked at the cover: the Book of Mormon. My curiosity was sparked, so I decided to go into the kitchen to check it out. Inside the cover I found a note that the server had written to me. In it he said the Book of Mormon was a true book of Jesus Christ’s gospel and that he knew it would touch my heart. I decided to start reading it right then.
As I read, a strange, peaceful feeling enveloped me. I hadn’t felt that feeling while reading any book other than the Bible. My initial intent to read a few pages quickly turned into a few chapters. I couldn’t put the book down. Then I came to 1 Nephi 15:11: “Do ye not remember the things which the Lord hath said?—If ye will not harden your hearts, and ask me in faith, believing that ye shall receive, with diligence in keeping my commandments, surely these things shall be made known unto you.”
I had to know if this book was true. I didn’t know how to address God in prayer, so I simply looked up at the kitchen ceiling and asked, “Is this book from You?” Immediately I felt a firm reply: “Yes.” I remember thinking, “Wow. I guess I’ll finish the book!”
Three months later, having finished the Book of Mormon, I drove to visit my father in California. Not far from his house I passed a building with a mosaic on its front that I recognized. I quickly turned into the parking lot and found a man outside.
“What is Lehi’s vision of the tree of life doing on your building?” I asked. He then introduced me to his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I retrieved my Book of Mormon from the car and began asking him questions about all the passages I had circled as I read. He slowed me down and explained that the Church had missionaries who devoted two years of their lives to answering questions like mine.
I gave him my father’s address, and later two elders came to visit me. I was impressed that they were eager to answer all of my questions. I was even more impressed that the new concepts they taught me felt like familiar things I was remembering again. Five weeks later I was baptized a member of the Church.
Thirty-two years have passed since then, and I still read the Book of Mormon daily. It has been a continuous source of light and direction for my family and me. How grateful I am to the ancient prophets who etched the words of God onto the golden plates, to Joseph Smith for enduring persecution and trials in order to translate and publish its truths, and to a server who had the courage to give me a Book of Mormon that day.

My father passed away in April 2013. As I prepared to speak at his funeral, I realized how blessed I was to know and love his favorite scriptures. He shared them in family gatherings, and he read them with me when I needed counsel, guidance, or strengthening of my faith. I heard him share them in talks and assignments. I not only knew them, but I can still remember the sound of his voice and the spiritual feelings I had as he shared them. Through sharing scriptures and feelings, my father helped me to establish a firm foundation of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
My father particularly loved the account of the Savior’s visit to the people of Nephi. This sacred account is of the resurrected and exalted Lord Jesus Christ. He had drunk of the bitter cup and suffered all things so that we would not suffer if we would repent. He had visited the spirit world and organized the preaching of the gospel there. He had risen from the dead, and He had been with and received commandments from the Father to share scriptures with the Nephites that would bless future generations. He was exalted and had all of His eternal power and capacity. We can learn from every detail of His teachings.
In 3 Nephi 11, we read how the Savior descended out of heaven to teach the Nephites that He was Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified would come into the world. He declared that He was the Light of the World and that He glorified the Father in taking on the sins of the world. He invited the people to come forth to put their hands into His side and to feel the prints of the nails in His hands and in His feet. He wanted them to know that He was the God of Israel, who was slain for the sins of the world. The people joyfully responded, going forth one by one until they had all seen and felt that it was truly He of whom it was written by the prophets that should come.
Jesus taught the Nephites about the importance of repentance, about becoming as a little child, and about the need to be baptized by one having His authority. He then taught much of the doctrine that we are studying this year in the New Testament.
In 3 Nephi 17, we read that Jesus told the people it was time for Him to go unto the Father and also to show Himself unto the lost tribes of Israel. As He cast His eyes on the multitude, He noticed that they were in tears, looking steadfastly upon Him as if they would ask Him to tarry a little longer.
The Savior’s response to the Nephites was both touching and instructive. He said, “Behold, my bowels are filled with compassion towards you.”
I believe that His compassion was much more than a response to the people’s tears. It seems that He could see them through the eyes of His atoning sacrifice. He saw their every pain, affliction, and temptation. He saw their sicknesses. He saw their infirmities, and He knew from His agonizing suffering in Gethsemane and on Golgotha how to succor them according to their infirmities.
Similarly, when our Savior, Jesus Christ, looks upon us, He sees and understands the pain and burden of our sins. He sees our addictions and challenges. He sees our struggles and afflictions of any kind—and He is filled with compassion toward us.
His gracious invitation to the Nephites followed: “Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, or leprous, or that are withered, or that are deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you; my bowels are filled with mercy.”
And the people came forth “with all them that were afflicted in any manner; and he did heal them every one as they were brought forth unto him.”
In 1990 we were living in the small town of Sale, in Victoria, Australia. We were happily busy with family, Church, and work commitments. On a beautiful summer Saturday just before Christmas, we decided to visit some parks and a favorite beach. After enjoying a wonderful day playing as a family, we packed everyone into the car and headed home. While driving, I momentarily fell asleep and caused a head-on car accident. After some moments of recovery, I looked around the vehicle. My wife, Maxine, had a badly broken leg and was struggling to breathe. She had a broken sternum. Our three daughters were in shock but thankfully appeared to be OK. I had some minor injuries. But our five-month-old son was unresponsive.
Amid the stress and confusion of that accident scene, our eldest daughter, 11-year-old Kate, said with urgency, “Dad, you need to give Jarom a blessing.” After some struggle, my daughters and I managed to get out of the car. Maxine couldn’t be moved. Carefully I picked Jarom up; then, while lying on the ground on my back, I gently placed him on my chest and gave him a priesthood blessing. By the time the ambulance arrived about 40 minutes later, Jarom was conscious.
That night I left three family members in the hospital and took a hushed taxi ride home with two of my daughters. Through the long night, I pled with Heavenly Father that my family and those injured in the other vehicle would recover. Mercifully, my prayers and fervently offered prayers by many others were answered. All were healed over time, a great blessing and tender mercy.
Yet I continued to have deep feelings of guilt and remorse for causing such a terrible accident. I would wake during the night and relive the horrific events. I struggled for years to forgive myself and to find peace. Then, as a priesthood leader, while assisting others to repent and helping them to feel the compassion, mercy, and love of the Savior, I realized that He could heal me.
The Savior’s healing and redeeming power applies to accidental mistakes, poor decisions, challenges, and trials of every kind—as well as to our sins. As I turned to Him, my feelings of guilt and remorse were gradually replaced with peace and rest.
President Russell M. Nelson taught: “When the Savior atoned for all mankind, He opened a way that those who follow Him can have access to His healing, strengthening, and redeeming power. These spiritual privileges are available to all who seek to hear Him and follow Him.”
Brothers and sisters, whether you are carrying the burden of unresolved sin, suffering because of an offense committed against you long ago, or struggling to forgive yourself for an accidental mistake, you have access to the healing and redeeming power of the Savior Jesus Christ.
I testify that He lives. He is our Savior and Redeemer. He loves us. He has compassion for us, He is filled with mercy, and He can heal you. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The Accra Ghana Temple is the most beautiful building in Ghana. We were excited about the open house knowing that many would come. We knew that those who came would be impressed with the beauty of the building and the well-manicured grounds; we prayed they would also feel the spirit of the temple. We invited the president of Ghana, President John Kufor, for a private tour of the temple. He is not a member of our faith, but had good feelings toward the Church. He wanted to keep his visit as low-key as possible and indicated that he could spend 15 minutes in the temple.

As we escorted him through the various rooms we knew our prayers had been answered. He was not only impressed with the beauty of the temple, but he also felt the Spirit. He remained asking questions and making comments for nearly an hour. As we walked out of the temple we realized that his visit had not been kept a secret. The temple steps were filled with the media with their cameras and microphones, all wanting to get the president's impression of the building. One of the reporters asked President Kufor what he thought of the Mormon temple. President Kufor commented on its beauty and then stated, "This temple will raise the spiritual level of our entire nation."

As the sun set on another Sunday in 1948, I found myself walking down the side of the Trent River in Nottingham, England. As a 20-year-old missionary, I had recently been called as district president. It had been a long, exhausting day filled with meetings and ministering, but I was happy and satisfied in the work.
As I walked along the river, I said a prayer in my heart. Hoping to feel some guidance from the Lord, I asked, “Am I doing what You want?”
An overwhelming feeling of peace and understanding came over me. At that precise moment, I came to know that Jesus Christ knew me and loved me. I didn’t see a vision or hear a voice, but I could not have known of Christ’s reality and divinity any more powerfully had He stood before me and called out my name.
This sweet and tender experience has shaped my life. From that day to today, every significant decision I have made has been influenced by my knowledge of the Savior. Over the years and throughout most of the world, I have testified that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, the Light of the World. It is a privilege for us to come unto Him, to follow Him, and to feel His light in our lives.

Although severely wounded with grief and beset with major problems that made the going anything but smooth, from that time President Young acted with inspired single-mindedness and effectiveness to shepherd the stunned Church and unite it under the authority of the Twelve, as he was certain Joseph had intended. He led the apostles back from the East on August 6, amid rumors that some of the mob were still lying in wait to kill them. They found that Sidney Rigdon, the only remaining official member of the First Presidency, had returned from Pittsburgh, where he had gone over a year before when a rift had developed between him and the Prophet. Now he was claiming the right to act as guardian of the Church for Joseph. The President of the Quorum acted swiftly to unify the leaders, and then the body of the Saints, against this and other claims that threatened the Church with disintegration. The next morning he met with all the apostles at the home of John Taylor, who was still recovering from terrible wounds received at the martyrdom, and then in the afternoon with all the Church leaders at the Seventies’ Hall, where he effectively rebutted Sidney Rigdon’s claims. With inspired assurance Elder Young moved to the next day a general meeting that had been called for a week later and there brought about an orderly and unifying succession of leadership. As he described it to his daughter in that letter of August already quoted:
“The Brethren were overjoyed to see us come home, for they were little children without a father, and they felt so, you may be sure. All things are now reviving up again. The brethren prayed with all faith for us to return. … I have been in council almost all the time since I arrived here. But this much I can say, the spirit of Joseph is here, though we cannot enjoy their persons. Through the great anxiety of the Church there was a conference held last Thursday [August 8]. The power of the priesthood was explained and the order thereof, on which the whole Church lifted up their voices and hands for the Twelve to move forward and organize the Church and lead it as Joseph led it, which is our indispensable duty to do.”
All things were, in fact, “reviving up again,” despite the unsettled conditions only a few days earlier, and the process was successful mainly because through the power of the Lord “the spirit of Joseph” did indeed manifest itself in remarkable, to many witnesses even miraculous, ways.
There is much evidence—from Brigham Young’s own account of the meeting, from the record of the speech he gave there, and from the accounts of others—that he spoke in a new voice that day, yet one that was familiar to those who knew Joseph Smith. In his own diary Brigham recorded:
“This day is long to be remembered by me. … Now Joseph is gone, it seemed as though many wanted to draw off a party and be leaders. But this cannot be. The Church must be one or they are not the Lord’s; the saints looked as though they had lost a friend that was able and willing to counsel them in all things; in this time of sorrow … I arose and spoke to the people. My heart was swollen with compassion towards them and by the power of the Holy Ghost, even the spirit of the prophets, I was enabled to comfort the hearts of the Saints. … I laid before them the order of the Church and the power of the priesthood. After a long and laborious talk of about two hours in the open air with the wind blowing, the Church was of one heart and one mind. They wanted the Twelve to lead the Church as Br. Joseph had done in his day.”25
The speech shows that Brigham Young indeed had the “spirit of the prophets,” that through the power of the Holy Ghost he spoke with a new sense of authority that both recalled to the people their lost Prophet and yet encouraged them to look forward to the great destiny of the Lord’s Church that had been restored:
“Attention all! … For the first time in my life, for the first time in your lives, … without a prophet at our head, do I step forth to act in my calling in connection with the Quorum of the Twelve, as Apostles of Jesus Christ, … who are ordained and anointed to bear off the keys of the kingdom of God in all the world. …
“You did not know who you had amongst you. … He loved you unto death—you did not know it until after his death; he has now sealed his testimony with his blood. There is much to be done. … as for myself I am determined to build up the kingdom of God. …
“Brother Joseph the Prophet has laid the foundation for a great work and we will build upon it. … There is an almighty foundation laid, and we can build a kingdom such as there never was in the world.”26
Wilford Woodruff recounted, long after, “Just as quick as Brigham Young rose in that assembly, his face was that of Joseph Smith— … the power of God that was upon Joseph Smith was upon him, he had the voice of Joseph.”27
This miraculous descent of the mantle of the Prophet upon Brigham Young was later recalled by many who were in the audience,28 but the crucial thing was that whatever they remembered of the miraculous was confirmed in the following months by the reality of President Young’s leadership as he did in very fact become a Joseph—a clearly inspired prophet—to his people. As William Burton wrote the next May: “But [Joseph’s and Hyrum’s] places were filled by others much better than I once supposed they could have been, the spirit of Joseph appeared to rest upon Brigham.”29

We were going to hand out pamphlets to find missionary referrals for our stake youth conference activity. I had been reading For the Strength of Youth. When the activity began, I tossed it back on the table where I had found it. But the thought occurred to me that I should take it with me. So I picked it up and put it in my scriptures.
We were all nervous about talking to strangers about the gospel, but when we stopped to talk to a woman hanging laundry in her yard, she was very friendly and took one of our pamphlets. During the conversation she told us about her concerns for her family. One son in particular was struggling with drugs and other problems. We did our best to console her, then moved on.
A few minutes later I opened my scriptures. When I saw my For the Strength of Youth pamphlet, I remembered what the woman had said about her son and felt like I should go back. I wasn’t nervous anymore.
We found the woman still outside. I told her I had something she might like. I explained about the standards our youth follow and gave her the pamphlet to read with her son. I could tell it made her happy. She called her son outside, and we were able to set up an appointment for both of them with the missionaries.
I felt like a missionary! It was great to have the opportunity to teach and maybe help this young man. I know it was the Holy Ghost who told me to take that pamphlet with me.

My Grandmother, Vallene Dunkley Bell
Vallene Dunkley was born in Whitney, Idaho in 1922. Grandma Bell was always a bit of a mystery to me. She was fun, she was sharp, she was frugal, she was hardworking, she was steadfast in the gospel, and she was loving (if in a distant way). She was also blunt; she was not very personable. For example, she rarely called to wish me a happy birthday or even sent me a birthday card. I never felt like I had a personal or loving relationship with Grandma Bell; she did have 8 children, 26 grandchildren, and 16 great-grandchildren at the time of her passing, so I get it. I guess I just never really knew nor fully appreciated her. The more I learn about Grandma Bell the more I understand and appreciate the sacrifices she made to support her husband and to raise her family. She made difficult compromises and I’m eternally grateful.
Vallene was one of the most popular, creative, musical, and outgoing children in her hometown of Whitney, Idaho. She was elected president of her class in 8th grade. At age fourteen, she was the assistant ward organist. She took advanced organ classes. She represented her school at the Idaho state-wide music contest. She was a high school cheerleader. She was president of the Builders Club (a social/fellowship organization). She continued her musical prowess serving as the high school choir and opera accompanist and as the Franklin Stake organist. She even presented musical programs over radio station KVNU in Logan.
After graduating from high school, she attended Ricks College and began to date Phil Keller Bell, my grandfather. While at Ricks College, she was the private secretary for Hyrum Manwaring, the president of Ricks College.
A brief note in her personal history reads, “School was interrupted that winter to enter the Logan Temple on January 14, 1942 to be married to Phil Keller Bell of Mink Creek, Idaho.”
After 3 years of marriage, Grandpa and Grandma Bell sold their home in Mink Creek and bought some land in Terreton, Idaho to “find our fortune.” Terreton was the last new frontier in that section of the west. It offered the only opportunity to gain a foothold on farming with nothing down and nothing to go on. In her words:
"The hardest adjustment we had to make in Terreton was getting used to the wind. It seemed that practically every morning at 11:00, a gentle breeze commenced, which soon became a roaring blast which lasted until sunset. As the sun set, the wind died down and was quiet until the [next] morning at 11:00. This necessitated our getting up at 3:00am to do the farming, which gave us an 8-hour day before the wind commenced.
In July, the wind brought with it a hailstorm, which took care of all our harvest worries. Within 19 minutes, the hailstones had pulverized all our crops in that area. It broke windows in houses, gouged holes in the siding and roof of the houses. It killed rabbits in the desert and even chickens in the barnyards. In the fall of 1951, we decided to move to Boise. We still loved Terreton, but of the 7 years we planted crops, we had harvested 4. Two years’ crops were taken by hailstorms and one year’s was ruined by early frost."
Grandma Bell was a woman of culture and intellect and musical abilities. Rather than seeking her own fame and fortune, she made enormous sacrifices so that she and Grandpa Bell could raise their 8 children doing what my grandfather knew best: farming. Her enormous talents were put to use serving in the Church, teaching her children music and the gospel, sewing clothes for her children, cooking meals, and offering willing support to her husband. I have no doubt that the sacrifices she made helped my mother become the perfect example of hard work, obedience, and determination that she is today. I love my Grandma Bell and the sacrifices she made for her family.

President Heber J. Grant told the story of two men who had quarreled about business dealings. They came to President John Taylor and asked him to settle the matter. President Taylor consented, but said: “‘Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like very much to sing one of the songs of Zion for you.’
“Now President Taylor was a very capable singer, and interpreted sweetly and with spirit, our sacred hymns. He sang one of our hymns to the two brethren. Seeing its effect, he remarked that he never heard one of the songs of Zion but that he wanted to listen to one more, and so asked them to listen while he sang another. Of course, they consented. They both seemed to enjoy it.”
Then President Taylor sang a third and a fourth hymn. When he finished, the two men “were melted to tears, got up, shook hands, and asked President Taylor to excuse them … for taking up his time. They then departed without his even knowing what their difficulties were” (Improvement Era, September 1940, page 522).

In May 1977 the sun had finally come out in Sweden and my companion and I had an appointment one morning in a suburb on the south side of Stockholm. We arrived at the apartment complex 20 minutes early. Not much time to accomplish anything and we could conceivably have sat on a bench and enjoyed the sunshine after the long winter. However we discussed it and my companion suggested that we knock on some doors and see if we could talk to someone for a few minutes. Neither of us felt any special prompting to do so. We concluded that we were missionaries and that is what missionaries should be doing. After a few minutes we knocked on a door and a woman came to the door. We introduced ourselves and explained that we had a short message and asked to come in. She said that it was not her apartment. She was just visiting a friend who had stepped out for a moment. We asked her where she lived. She said she lived on the North side of Stockholm. We said that while that was not I our area we had missionaries all over the city. We asked if we could have her address and have some of our colleagues visit her. She agreed. She gave us her address and we gave her a pamphlet about Joseph Smith. I thought no more about the encounter until February 1978. In the intervening months I had served at different places in the mission and in February received a transfer to the Stockholm north zone. At church one Sunday not long after my arrival I was approached by a sister who asked "Elder Bates, do you remember me?" I said "no I'm sorry." She said "last May you and your companion knocked on a door in Jordbro. I was visiting a friend. I gave you my address and you gave me a pamphlet. I was baptized in September." When we do what we are supposed to do, what we are called to do, the Lord will use us to bless the lives of others. Whether it is through missionary work, visiting, home teaching, primary, young women's or young men's if we walk uprightly we will be blessed and we will and bless others.

Another time, Joseph was again playing ball with some men and young men from town. When the game was finished, Joseph called the men together.
Brethren, hitch up your teams.
The men did just as Joseph asked and drove into the forest to gather wood.
This is the 39th and last wagon.
We did good work today, brother. Would anyone like to pull sticks?
Joseph was strong and good at a game called pulling sticks. He pulled up each opponent, one after another.
When they finished pulling sticks, Joseph called the men and young men around again.
Take these wagons out, and cut the wood for anyone who needs it.
The Saints loved to do what the Prophet asked, even if they were weary from a long day of hard work and play.
Haul ’em out, boys! Let’s do what the Prophet asks.

Listening to a commentator recently, I was impressed by a related idea. His comments included the following:
“Lin Yutang, the famous Chinese philosopher, has written: ‘We do not know a nation until we know its pleasures of life, just as we do not know a man until we know how he spends his leisure. It is when a man ceases to do the things he has to do, and does the things he likes to do, that the character is revealed. It is when the repressions of society and business are gone and when the goads of money and fame and ambition are lifted, and a man’s spirit wanders where it listeth, that we see the inner man, his real self.’”
Then he continued: “Have you ever thought much about that? Your leisure gives you away. I used to know a man who was head of a very large commercial empire. Beginning with nothing but ambition, he became a multimillionaire and, finally, retired as head of his far-flung company. He bought a large and magnificent yacht with which to cruise the world. And do you know what he did with his free time? He read salacious paperbacks and got falling-down drunk and had to be carried to bed, unconscious, every night. He’s dead now. His leisure gave him away. There was nothing there … just nothing at all. He was a one idea man. Once he was away from that idea, he was a lost child in the wilderness. He didn’t enjoy his yacht … travel meant nothing to him. He was a pitiful, unhappy cypher. Not because he was rich … there are thousands, millions just like him in every walk of life. It was just that his millions, which gave him access to the whole world, were worthless to him and accentuated his nothingness.”
Then the commentator asked the question: “What do you do with your leisure time? It’s a good idea to examine carefully this important segment of your life. It exposes the real person—but not the finished person. We can change. …” (Earl Nightingale, “Our Changing World,” No. 2459. Used by permission.)

Evan and I created a great “hut” down in the rocks and sand of Ash Creek. That was a small tributary to the Virgin River in southern Utah. It was the perfect place for catching little blue-bellied racing lizards. When it came to catching those, Evan and I had no peers. That was one thing we could do better than even my two older brothers.
I did not know until we were about ten years old that Evan had been born with a heart defect. He had asthma and often coughed and wheezed from that, but it did not interfere with our play. One reason I did not know that his health problems were serious was that he never once complained.
All along, his parents had been waiting for him to reach an age when he was strong enough to survive surgery. Finally, the doctors felt that they could wait no longer, so off to Salt Lake went Evan and his parents.
He wrote to me saying that he had taken an advance tour of the hospital to see everything, including the operating and recovery rooms. The doctors wanted him to see them in detail, so that when he awoke, he would not be frightened. To me, it seemed that he took that all in stride.
Several days later Evan underwent eight or ten hours of major surgery. Unbelievably to me, he died on the operating table.
I was crushed. I had prayed faithfully and fervently that he would survive. I thought my prayers had gone unanswered. Brokenhearted, I went back to our river hut one last time after the funeral. I stayed only long enough to push some of the rocks aside and destroy the fort that we had built. I guess I thought if I could destroy what represented Evan, I could destroy the horrible feelings of grief that I was experiencing.
Later I would learn that those feelings were normal. I loved Evan. I would miss him. That is a natural instinct, and there is nothing wrong with it.
I thought about Evan every day for a month or so. Then I began to get busy with other friends, and soon I was just thinking about him every now and then. After about ten years, I found that I would go months at a time and never think of the closeness that we had shared. I noticed, however, that when I started thinking about him, all of the good feelings that I had felt with him so many times would come rushing back into my mind and heart.

Nathan, a neighbor boy, came around to play with my son Michael. Later I took them to the park. Michael rode his bike to the park and promised Nathan that he could ride on the way home. But when the time came to leave, Michael found it hard to keep his promise. He rode his bike home himself, feeling very unhappy. Nathan wasn’t too pleased either. After Michael had time to think about it, he agreed that Nathan could have a go on his bike after all, so off they went. Afterward Michael told me, “I liked sharing because Nathan is my friend, and it made me feel happy.”

In 1985 Sister Sitati and I met a man named Roger Howard in Nairobi, Kenya. He and his wife, Eileen, were serving as a senior missionary couple. They invited us to join a small congregation that met in their home. It was the first time we had attended a meeting of members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We felt the Spirit at that first meeting, and since then we have attended church every Sunday.
A few months later, Roger baptized us, together with our nine-year-old son. Soon afterward, Roger and Eileen returned home at the end of their mission. We continued to hear from them every few years.
Early in 2010, Sister Sitati and I finally saw Roger again. He was now approaching 90 years old. Worn with old age and poor health, he leaned heavily on his walker. As we stood facing each other for the first time in so many years, we felt a mutual joy beyond description. Tears rolled freely as we tenderly embraced. We felt a deep gratitude for each other and for the marvelous gift of the gospel. We were united in faith as fellow citizens in the kingdom of God.
As I savored that moment, a scripture came to mind: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God; …
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:10, 15).
Roger passed on later that year. I had the distinct feeling that he was a man at peace with God. He had profoundly touched our lives by sharing the gospel. His example of consecrated service to his fellow men, along with that of the great army of young and senior missionaries serving in the Church, demonstrates one way we honor God.

It was 1973. Struggling with some challenges, I deeply desired to know God, so I decided to read the Bible. One day I read about Solomon’s temple in 2 Chronicles 2–5, and I felt that such a holy place could be on the earth. So I fasted and prayed that I might be guided by the Holy Ghost to find it. I felt that if I found a temple, I would be able to tell one of the Lord’s servants about my problems, and he would help me solve them.
So I set out to find a temple. At the time I lived in Fontenay-sous-Bois, a suburb of Paris, so I started driving toward the city to find a temple. I saw many buildings, including churches and synagogues, but I did not find a temple. Upon returning home, I prayed and wondered why I couldn’t find a temple. Wasn’t I pure enough? Or was I simply unprepared?
I forgot all about my failed search until sister missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to my home in February 1980. They taught me that the closest temple was in Zollikofen, Switzerland—the Bern Switzerland Temple.
I was baptized on April 12, 1980, and I went to the temple for the first time just over a year later, on May 5, 1981. There I was able to do the temple work for several women in my family, including my grandmothers, aunts, and cousins.

Besides seeing his family sealed together, Michael has another hope—of becoming a champion wrestler. He’s been undefeated for three years in his weight and age division in the South New Jersey Wrestling Association. But sometimes he has to make tough choices between two things he loves—wrestling and the Church.
A few years ago, a very important tournament was coming up. Michael’s parents thought that the tournament was on a Saturday, and he signed up to go. When they found out it was on a Sunday, his father asked him if he still wanted to be in the tournament. Although he knew that his team was counting on him to score some team points for it, he said, “Well then, I can’t go.” He explained, “It’s hard not to go to Sunday tournaments, but I don’t, because it’s against a commandment. And I’ve had a lot of blessings.” Since making that decision the first time, not competing on Sundays has been easier. And his decision has showed others that he lives what he believes.