Gospel Story Finder

December 16, 1981
Elder Marion D. Hanks
7 Castle Road, Central, Hong Kong
Dear Elder Hanks:
In an effort to make our Christmas more meaningful, we decided as a family to economize and use the savings to feed the hungry children in Cambodia and in other Southeast Asian countries.
To earn Christmas money the children addressed envelopes for my work, sold stationery, and worked around the yard and house. The kids earned a penny a page for reading. They put into the Christmas account the money they were going to spend on presents for each other, and they gave up a trip and goodies. We bought a small Christmas tree to set on top of the table rather than a full-sized tree, and we donated the difference.
The enclosed check represents, on behalf of our family, the money that we would have spent on Christmas but did not. We know you will put it to good use.
We are grateful for our many blessings, and we are very sorry that there are so many suffering so much. Please let us know what else we might do.
We hope you have an enjoyable Christmas season.
Sincerely,
The Dale S. Call Family

My husband, Larry, and I enjoy eating out at a delicious Mexican restaurant called “Mi Ranchito.” We like it so much that I keep the number stored in my smartphone.
One afternoon, we decided to order takeout. I picked up my phone and casually said, “Hey, Siri! Call Mi Ranchito.”
Siri’s chic British voice responded immediately: “OK, Lisa! From now on, I will call you ‘Ranchito.’”
Larry and I burst into laughter. It was funny. Without missing a beat, Siri changed my name to Ranchito. From that moment on, my smartphone, my husband, my children, my grandchildren, and anyone else to whom Larry related the story began to call me Ranchito. No matter what I did, Siri refused to call me Lisa again.
At first the situation was entertaining. Soon it became annoying. And as I worked to restore my true name, it became alarming. I imagined the possibility of receiving texts, emails, and snail mail addressed to “Ranchito.” I imagined pollsters soliciting polling information from Ranchito over my phone and politicians inviting Ranchito to vote for them in the next election.
“Over a very short time,” I thought, “Lisa could drop out of existence, and Ranchito could take over my social identity.”
How frightening! Siri, who doesn’t know me, doesn’t care about me, and isn’t even a real person, had effortlessly stolen my name. As I tried to figure out how to restore it, I couldn’t help but think how, if I’m not mindful, I could let technology steal away my identity, reputation, and sense of self.
I also realized how technology’s many distractions can often lead us to forget our divine identities as children of God.
Thankfully, I was able to get Siri to change my name from Ranchito back to Lisa. But this experience taught me that my most important identity is that of disciple of Jesus Christ and child of God. So I will always choose to allow a prophet of God and the Holy Ghost, rather than Siri, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, Pinterest, or any other internet influence, to shape my identity and guide me along the covenant path to Jesus Christ!

Did you like that Friend magazine I gave you?
Yeah. My dad liked it too, but he just lost his job, so we don’t have money for things like magazines …
Dad, I know we don’t have a lot of money this year because we had to move, but can we get Audrey a Friend subscription for Christmas? You could take it out of whatever you were going to get me.
In fact, I really don’t need much. Could we just give Audrey’s family most of what you would have spent on me? Without letting them know who it was?
I guess so, if you’re sure that’s what you want.
I was really hoping for that cool new scooter. She’s Mandy’s friend, not mine. In fact, she acts like I don’t exist.
But Mandy looked really happy when she told Dad what she wanted to do.
Dad, I heard what Mandy was saying. Would you do the same thing with my Christmas presents? But don’t tell Mandy. I mean, I don’t want her to think I like her friends.
You know what I mean.
You’re never going to guess what those two kids of ours just did.
Uh oh! Do I want to hear this?
Oh, trust me. You do.

When Harold B. Lee was seventeen, he became a teacher. He taught in a one-room school near Weston, Idaho. Some of his students were older than he was!
The pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room sometimes fell apart, filling the school with smoke and soot.
Harold: Quick, help me put the stovepipe back on!
Student: Yes, sir!
A year later, he became both the principal and a teacher at nearby Oxford School. The students there liked to play tricks on him. While he was busy talking to someone, they hid his horse.
So he had to walk several miles to get home.
Harold: I must keep better control of my class. I want them to be my friends.
One day, he decided to join his students during their lunch break.
Harold: Mind if I play with you? Whose team can I be on?
Students: You can be on ours.
Student: Wow! Great shot!
His plan to befriend his students worked. Joseph Gibby, one of his students, later said, “He made a place in my heart through his love and understanding that caused me to regard him, next to my own dear father, as the best friend I had on this earth.”

As I watched the shiny tray come down my aisle, I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. This would be the first time in my life that I hadn’t been worthy to take the sacrament. The tray was quickly coming closer to me, and I was drowning in all my feelings. What would my parents think when I didn’t take the sacrament? My little brother and sister? I was supposed to be their example.
As the tray came to me, I quickly passed it on, bowing my head. I felt as if everyone in the whole chapel was looking at me.
The week before, I had talked to my bishop. As I entered his office, I started crying in shame even before I sat down. As I told him everything I had done, I thought he would be angry with me or say I had no hope of being forgiven. Instead, I noticed he was crying too. He let me know he was very pleased I had come to him. It felt so good to know he wanted to help with my problems and that I had someone to talk to.
When I finally stood up to leave, my bishop told me he loved me and assured me, “I am going to help you as much as I can to overcome all of your problems.” At that moment I knew everything would eventually be all right.
My first time not taking the sacrament was hard, but I have to relive the experience every Sunday as I pass the tray on. I am grateful to have the blessing of repentance in my life. I know that when I have completed the repentance process, I will be clean again. And because of this experience and the struggles I am going through, I never want to be unworthy again. Not taking the sacrament is hard. But it has helped me more fully appreciate my Savior’s sacrifice for me.

Certainly family concerns are real and should not be considered lightly. But we cannot meet our family challenges without the blessings of the Lord; and when we sacrifice to serve as full-time missionary couples, those blessings will flow. For example, one couple worried about leaving their youngest daughter who was no longer active in the Church. Her faithful father wrote: “We prayed for her continually and fasted regularly. Then, during general conference, the Spirit whispered to me, ‘If you will serve, you will not have to worry about your daughter anymore.’ So we met with our bishop. The week after we received our call, she and her boyfriend announced they were engaged. Before we left for Africa, we had a wedding in our home. [Then we gathered our family together and] held a family council. … I bore testimony of the Lord and Joseph Smith … and told them I would like to give each of them a father’s blessing. I started with the oldest son and then his wife and proceeded to the youngest … [including our new son-in-law].”
As we consider couple missionary service, it is appropriate to involve our families in the same way. In family council meetings, we can give our children the opportunity to express their support, offer special assistance we may need, and receive priesthood blessings to sustain them in our absence. Where appropriate, we may be able to receive priesthood blessings from them as well. As the faithful father in this story blessed his family members, his son-in-law felt the influence of the Holy Ghost. The father wrote: “By the end of our first year [the] heart [of our son-in-law] began to soften toward the Church. Just before we returned home from our mission, he and our daughter came to visit us. In his suitcase was the first set of Sunday clothes he had ever owned. They came to Church with us, and after we returned home he was baptized. A year later, they were sealed in the temple.”

Marie looked out the car window as she and her Primary class drove to the nursing home. She hoped none of the girls noticed the tears that filled her eyes.
When Sister Gibson had suggested the talent show for an activity day, it seemed like such a good idea. Every girl had gone to work planning the talent she would share. Marie had tried, but she hadn’t been able to come up with anything to do.
A couple of the girls were playing the piano. One girl was playing the violin, and one was singing. Another was reciting a poem she’d written, and Marie’s best friend, Shelley, was going to do a backflip. Andrea wasn’t performing, but she had made cookies for everybody to have after the show.
The more Marie thought about the talent show, the more she was convinced that she didn’t have any talents. She wasn’t even sure why she had come. Sister Gibson had tried to make her feel better, telling her that she hadn’t yet discovered a very special talent that Heavenly Father had given her. But that was hard for Marie to believe. She didn’t think she’d ever be good at anything.
The gathering room at the nursing home was quiet. There were old people everywhere, and that made Marie even more nervous. She didn’t know what to say to them or how to act. The other girls seemed to feel the same way too. They were huddled together, shyly looking around until Sister Gibson showed them where to sit.
Marie still felt bad as the program started. Then, just after the first piano solo, she heard someone coughing behind her. Marie turned around and saw a gray-haired woman whose body shook with each cough.
Marie stopped thinking about herself and started to worry about the woman. She quietly dug a hard candy out of her pocket and went to the woman. She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and held out the small gift. When the wrinkled hand reached for it and the woman smiled at her, Marie felt happiness and peace.
Marie stayed by the woman for the rest of the program. She held her hand and sometimes told her about what was happening. It felt good to be doing something for someone else, and it kept her from feeling sorry for herself.
When it was time to leave, the woman hugged Marie and whispered, “Thank you for talking to me. You have a real talent for making people feel loved.”
On the way back to the church, Marie was grateful to know that she did have a talent after all. When she served others, she felt Heavenly Father’s love, and she helped others feel His love too. That was a pretty special talent to have.

When I was adopted at age three, my birth mother allowed the adoption to be finalized only if my parents agreed to have my Church ordinances done after I turned 12. She thought I needed to be old enough to make the choice for myself, but it was really difficult to wait.
Yes, it was hard to see many of my friends get baptized when they turned eight, but what was even harder was knowing I couldn’t be sealed to my adoptive parents and five older siblings until I was 12. I was scared that something would happen to me and I wouldn’t be able to be sealed to them.
As my 12th birthday approached, we began planning for my baptism and sealing to my family. My parents let me choose which temple we would be sealed in. I had always thought that the San Diego California Temple was the most beautiful, so my entire family agreed to drive to California for the sealing.
I couldn’t wait to become an eternal family with my parents and siblings. During my sealing, I felt the Spirit so strongly that it is hard to put into words. Now that I am finally sealed to my family, my feelings of worry have been replaced with comfort and peace, knowing I am now eternally linked to them.

Because of the difficulties we faced, my mom wanted a better life for her children and often prayed for help.
Our circumstances didn’t change until a miracle took place in our lives. I was only a young boy when the missionaries came to our village, but I remember everything. My mom, dad, brother, and I were eating lunch in our field. I can still remember the smell of the tortillas on the fire as two white men with light hair made their way through the field. My eyes opened wide in surprise, and I held onto my mom, ready to kick the men if it became necessary to defend ourselves. However, when the men asked, “Would it be OK if we warmed up our tortillas in your fire?” peace came over me. Curiosity filled my head. Why was their accent so funny? Why did they wear white shirts and neckties? Why were they so big?
“Sure, you can warm up your tortillas in our fire,” my dad replied. I don’t know how it happened, but the next thing I knew, the missionaries were showing us illustrations of the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Sacred Grove. My mom was shocked! She had always believed that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were beings we could talk to and ask questions of, but she had never heard anyone teach that. While listening to the story of the First Vision, my mom received confirmation from the Holy Ghost that it was true. The visit of these two missionaries was the answer to her prayers. My mom invited them to drop by our house any day.
Later when the missionaries visited us and taught us about the Word of Wisdom, my mom was the happiest I have ever seen her. My dad is a slightly different story. I remember that he was trying to smile, but his eyes were watery, his forehead was white, and the rest of his face was red.
In our tribe, you stick with the traditions—no matter what. Changing religions is viewed as an act of desertion. Friends leave you and relatives look down on you, especially if you are the first one to change.
My mom was surprised that the missionaries took so long to ask, “Will you be baptized into the Church?” She was ready. My dad felt in his heart that the message brought by the missionaries was true, but he was concerned about the consequences that would come to our family if we went against the traditions of our tribe. He needed more time to make up his mind.
In the end, my dad went against everything he had known and chose the gospel. His friends left him. Our relatives told him he was crazy and asked how much money the missionaries paid him to get baptized. No one invited us to parties anymore. My family’s social life was gone for a while. These changes were some of the hardest my family ever had to make.
The gospel of Jesus Christ brought a mighty change into my family, for which I am grateful. My dad dedicated more time to our family. My mom cooked better meals. My parents now spent our income wisely. We even had the chance to attend elementary school. My dad said something to us that I will never forget: “From this point on, you will never quit until you get a degree from school.”
We were a different family. Family home evening became a time when we set personal and family goals. My dad prepared gospel lessons and shared his life experiences with us, something he had never done before. We children knew our parents loved us. Alcohol was no longer in our home. The fights between my mom and dad turned into discussions in which they tried to understand each other. Somehow we seemed to be materially rich, although we were actually poor. We were a happy family, and eventually my dad was respected for his new way of life. People trusted him because he did not drink anymore. His friends began to come to him for advice, and somehow whoever associated with my dad started to prosper. Gospel living was contagious. My dad even organized a group of farmers to learn new and better methods of farming.
As a child, I started my religious reading with the Bible, but the Old Testament was too hard for me to read and understand at that young age. My next attempt was the Book of Mormon. After reading a couple of pages, I could not put the book away. Nephi became my new hero. Each day, after some hours of school and many hours of work on the farm, I went back to reading the Book of Mormon. As I read, I felt a special connection between the people of the Book of Mormon and my tribe. I felt the Book of Mormon explained where our Cakchiquel tribe came from and who our ancestors were.
In my reading of the Book of Mormon and learning about the true gospel of Jesus Christ, I felt that I was part of the fulfillment of the promises God made to Lehi, Nephi, and other Book of Mormon prophets about their children being preserved. I’m eternally grateful to those faithful people in the Book of Mormon and to the missionaries who introduced us to the book that changed the course of our lives.
My family eventually moved to Guatemala City. My parents have served in our ward there for many years. My two brothers and two sisters and I are all faithful Latter-day Saints. My brothers and I served full-time missions. My brother, sister, and I are studying at a university.
My family’s conversion story reflects God’s love and mercy for His children. I am thankful for the love He has for His children wherever they are—even deep in the mountains of Guatemala.

Years ago, following a graduate school discussion on American religious history, a fellow student asked me, “Why have the Latter-day Saints not adopted the cross that other Christians use as a symbol of their faith?”
Inasmuch as such questions about the cross are often a question about our commitment to Christ, I immediately told him that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints considers the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ to be the central fact, the crucial foundation, the chief doctrine, and the ultimate expression of divine love in God’s grand plan for the salvation of His children. I explained that the saving grace inherent in that act was essential for and universally gifted to the entire human family from Adam and Eve to the end of the world. I quoted the Prophet Joseph Smith, who said, “All … things which pertain to our religion are only appendages” to the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Then I read him what Nephi had written 600 years before Jesus’s birth: “And … the angel spake unto me … , saying: Look! And I looked and beheld the Lamb of God, … [who] was lifted up upon the cross and slain for the sins of the world.”
With my “love, share, and invite” zeal now kicking into high gear, I kept reading! To the Nephites in the New World the resurrected Christ said, “My Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; … that I might draw all men unto me, … and for this cause have I been lifted up.”
I was about to quote the Apostle Paul when I noticed that my friend’s eyes were starting to glaze over. A quick look at his wristwatch apparently reminded him that he needed to be somewhere—anywhere—and he dashed off to his fictitious appointment. Thus ended our conversation.

The Kingston Ward, Albany New York Stake, really has learned to go the extra mile to succeed. With no gym in which to practice in their meetinghouse, many of the young women have to drive more than half an hour to basketball practices. But for the second year in a row, they have taken the regional championship.
The girls basketball team demonstrated not only their skill but good sportsmanship and love for each other. When they were congratulated by the stake, it was said of them, “You displayed fine sportsmanship and team effort. The team well represented the stake, and we are proud of you.”

Tim frowned as he lay in bed. It had been an awful day. First he had to help take care of his sister, and she had spilled [color] [food] on the floor! Then, at school his class studied [adjective] [animals] all day. When he got home, he found out his favorite toy [noun] was broken. Tim’s grumpy thoughts stayed with him as he fell asleep that night.
Suddenly, Tim was taking care of his sister, only now she was [big number] feet tall! It was much harder to help her, and they couldn’t play peek-a-boo the way they usually did. When Tim walked to school, he found out that his teacher had been replaced by a [adjective] [noun]! Instead of learning, he had to clean [nouns] all day. And at home, all of Tim’s toys had turned into [nouns]!
Just then, Tim’s alarm went off with a loud [animal sound]. Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes. It had been a dream! He laughed while playing peek-a-boo with his sister. He smiled while giving his book report at school. Even though his favorite toy was broken, he was happy there were other things he could play with. Tim was glad he could feel grateful instead of grumpy!

Let me tell you of one last example of another young man. We’ll call him John. John became quite ill as he was serving his mission in a distant land. He had such serious digestive problems that his mission president was considering sending him home. Then one day while he was out walking, he felt a pain in his foot so severe that he couldn’t even walk to the discussion he and his companion had scheduled.
The doctor decided that John had arthritis caused by the damp weather and suggested he stay off his foot for a few days.
The young missionary did so. He also had a priesthood blessing, but nothing happened. John was a district mission leader at the time, and his district missionaries had just begun to baptize in a city where there had not been baptisms for some time. He could not understand how the Lord could allow him to waste such valuable time when his district was just beginning to have success.
A week went by, two weeks, three weeks, a month with no improvement. Finally he was taken to the capital city, where there were better medical facilities. An X-ray revealed that a bone in his foot had been fractured and then grown back together incorrectly. The doctors tried giving him special electrical treatments that were supposed to fuse the bone correctly, but the treatments didn’t help. This problem, along with his other medical problems had him somewhat discouraged. Again, the consideration came to send him home.
One morning, after nearly three months, he stepped out of bed to find absolutely no pain in his foot. He stepped on the foot gently, then stamped on it, then ran with his companion for a kilometer, totally healed. With great joy he returned immediately to the mission district to work.
Two more weeks went by. Then a letter arrived from home. “Dear son,” it began, and then followed a paragraph or two of chastisement for not having told his family about his ailments. They had learned of his problems from another missionary, a friend of his, who had written home. In great love they wrote, “As a family, we have begun a fast and constant prayer for you. We have also placed your name on the temple prayer list and hope that it might be of help to you.”
As he tearfully read the letter and examined his journal, he found that the day that he had arisen from his bed healed was the same day the letter had been written, the very day his family began praying and exercising faith for their distant son.
How could that be across some eleven thousand kilometers? I suppose no one knows, but the reality of the power of faith cannot be denied. In the face of all opposition, trust in the Lord. Even if the opposition continues almost beyond endurance, continue to trust in the Lord.

Tracy pressed her nose against the big picture window and watched the rain. Tracy usually liked the rain, but today she felt miserable. Her two older sisters, Janet and Merry, were standing on the sidewalk in their bright pink raincoats, waving good-bye to her. They had a clear plastic umbrella to keep the rain off, and they were laughing.
Tracy waved to her sisters, then began to cry. She would have to wait another year before she could go to school too.
“It looks like it’s raining in here,” Mother said, coming into the room. She had the popcorn popper in her hand. “I thought that you might like some popcorn,” she added. “Janet and Merry will just have to miss out this time.”
“All right,” Tracy said with a sigh. She took one last look at her sisters skipping down the street, then followed Mother into the kitchen.
Tracy was a good popcorn maker. She poured in the oil, and when Mother said it was hot enough, Tracy added the popcorn and shook it just right.
Mother made caramel on the stove. She had to stand away from the stove, because her tummy was big with a new baby. She looked so funny with the apron trying to cover her big dress that Tracy couldn’t help but laugh. Mother laughed too. “I’ll be glad when this baby comes and I can stand next to the stove again!” she said.
When the caramel was ready, Mother poured it over the popcorn and shaped the sticky popcorn into round balls. Tracy put each one on a sheet of waxed paper to dry. Then they each ate a popcorn ball.
Suddenly the kitchen was very bright. “Look,” Mother said. “It’s stopped raining outside.”
“It’s not raining in here anymore, either,” Tracy said, pointing to her dry eyes. Then she thought of her two sisters and how much she would like to go to school with them. “I do hate to be here by myself, though.”
“I do, too,” Mother said.
Tracy was puzzled. “But I’m here with you, Mother. You’re not alone with me here.”
“I’m glad about that.” Mother put her arms around Tracy. “I would be lonesome without you. One reason that I wanted a new baby is that when you’re at school next year, I’ll have someone to keep me company. And this year while Janet and Merry are both in school, I can have you all to myself for a while!”
Tracy gave Mother a big hug. “And I can have you all to myself!”

As a leader in the Philippines, I was able to help in the planning and building of the Manila temple. The Lord was watching over its construction. The day before the groundbreaking, a typhoon approached Manila, and we feared we would not be able to proceed. That evening at a mission conference, a missionary prayed for the weather to clear so that the groundbreaking could continue. During the night, the typhoon changed direction, and we were able to proceed the next day.

Clara McMaster was the eleventh child in her family, and she learned to love music at an early age. She sang and accompanied others on the piano as she grew up in Brigham City, Utah. For twenty-two years she was a member of the Tabernacle Choir. Today she and her husband sing together for numerous church occasions. “Music is a rich gift of God, and it is in the world to make the lives of His children happier and better,” Sister McMaster says.
While serving on the Primary General Board, Sister McMaster was asked to write a song for the first reverence program. She worked hard and prayed that she would be prompted to write what would be best for the children. One day as she was looking out the window and pondering her assignment, an idea came to her. She went to the piano and quickly wrote it down. The new song was “Reverently, Quietly.” “I felt very humble, she said. “If you prepare and do all that you can do, then Heavenly Father will help you.”
Sister McMaster has written other Primary favorites such as “My Heavenly Father Loves Me” and “Teach Me to Walk in the Light of His Love.”

An early pioneer woman named Eliza Cheney was able to put aside the things of the world because she had nurtured the seed of faith within her. While at Winter Quarters, Eliza received a letter from her parents offering her any amount of money to denounce her newfound religion and come home. She tightened the laces on her pioneer shoes. Even in such bitter conditions, Eliza’s faith burned bright. She wrote back to her parents:
“I have not the most distant idea [of returning], neither has Nathan … , our cause is just and must be onward. … I did not embrace this work hastily: I came into it understandingly. I weighed the subject, I counted the cost, I knew the consequence of every step I took. …
“If I could be among the numberless throng that John saw whose robes were washed white in the blood of the lamb[,] I must[,] like them, come up through much tribulation and instead of thinking it hard that I have these difficulties to pass through, I count it all joy that I am counted worthy to suffer shame for his name.”

I am a nonmember. Eighteen months ago, while I was living in Idaho as an exchange student from Guatemala City, Guatemala, I first learned about the Church. Since that time, I have studied and prayed about it until I received a testimony, a testimony that grows when I read the New Era. I read it from cover to cover, and I enjoy each one of its articles. I especially liked “President Kimball Speaks Out on Being a Missionary” in the May issue and “Private Battle” by Kevin Kennedy in the July issue. I am grateful for the publication of such a great magazine.
I am especially grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Dewey Jensen who gave me my subscription. They were the first two Mormons I met, and they gave me a really good example of what it means to be a Mormon. I consider them to be my second parents. I am also grateful to the missionaries who taught me the gospel. Gracias.
Ana OvandoGuatemala City, Guatemala

I just started reading the New Era and it helps me answer a lot of questions. I will share two. I wondered what Joseph Smith did with the plates after he was done with them. “What Did the Golden Plates Look Like?” (June 2007) said that he returned the golden plates to Moroni. My second question was about which group should I hang out with. One group got in trouble a lot, and the other group never got in trouble. After reading the New Era, I chose to go to the group that never got in trouble. It was hard for me because I had friends in both groups. I am happy with my choice.Sydney Y., North Carolina

Jennifer stared at the door. Soon it would open and her baptismal interview would start. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. How could she tell Bishop Anderson that she didn’t want to get baptized? She’d tried to tell Mom, but Mom got that disappointed look on her face.
The lump in Jennifer’s throat grew larger. Bishop Anderson was going to be disappointed in her. She looked away from the door and stared at her dress. The material faded before her eyes. If only this interview was over!
“Jennifer, are you ready?” Bishop Anderson asked, smiling at her.
She darted a quick glance at him, then looked down. Staring at the carpet, she followed him into his office and slid onto the chair next to his desk. Under the desk was a little dust ball. Her eyes focused on it. Normally she loved talking to Bishop Anderson; he was always kind and smiled at her. But today the lump in her throat was too big.
“What’s wrong, Jennifer?”
Bishop Anderson’s loving face gave Jennifer courage. She lifted her head. The warmth in his face brought sudden tears to her eyes. “Everyone else in my Primary class is being baptized by their father, but Dad can’t baptize me because he isn’t a member. It isn’t fair!” Her voice trembled, and she stared down at the dust ball.
“It doesn’t seem fair, Jennifer,” Bishop Anderson said in a kind voice. “But let’s look at the reasons for this special ordinance. Do you know why we get baptized?”
“Because it’s a commandment?”
“That’s right. In 2 Nephi 9:23, Jacob tells us that we are all commanded to be baptized. Baptism is the ‘door’ that lets us into the kingdom of God. Now, what happens if you try to unlock a door with the wrong key?”
Her finger’s crumpled the edge of her dress. “The door won’t open?”
“Exactly. But the right key opens the door. Baptism is the door, but the priesthood is the key. Only one who holds the priesthood worthily holds the right key. Someone who baptizes without the priesthood doesn’t have the authority to perform this sacred ordinance. It is like trying to use the wrong key to unlock the door. It doesn’t work, and the door stays shut.”
The lump in Jennifer’s throat grew bigger. “But my dad is a good person,” she whispered.
Bishop Anderson nodded his head. “I know he is, and I feel that someday he will accept the gospel and receive the priesthood. In the meantime, he deserves your love and respect and obedience.”
Jennifer tried to smile, but a tear ran down her cheek.
Bishop Anderson reached for his scriptures. He opened the black leather cover and carefully turned the pages. “You see, even Jesus had to be baptized by someone holding the right key. Here, Jennifer, read verses thirteen to fifteen in Matthew, chapter three.”
Jennifer took the heavy book from the bishop. “‘Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John, to be baptized of him.
“‘But John forbad him, saying, I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?
“‘And Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness. Then he suffered him.’”
Jennifer looked at the bishop, who asked her, “Why did Jesus go to John the Baptist?”
Jennifer smoothed her dress across her knees. “Because John had the authority.”
“Exactly. Now I want you to think of something else. Was Jesus baptized by Joseph, His father while He was on the earth?”
Jennifer caught her breath. The lump in her throat started to dissolve. “No, He wasn’t.”
“He wasn’t,” agreed Bishop Anderson. “But His baptism was still special. It isn’t important who baptizes you as long as that person has the right key to do so. If he does, Heavenly Father will accept your baptism and He will be as pleased with you as He was with Jesus.”
For the first time in days, the big lump in Jennifer’s throat was gone. A smile broke through. She still wished her dad could baptize her, but it was going to be OK. “Bishop Anderson, would you baptize me?”
The bishop gave Jennifer a big smile. “I’d love to, Jennifer.”
Jennifer’s smile grew. She was eager now to get baptized. She would show Heavenly Father that she wanted to go through the door the right way, just like Jesus did, by being baptized by someone holding the right key.