Gospel Story Finder

A number of years ago I was ordained a bishop and set apart to preside over a campus ward. As I was endowed with the powers and keys that pertained to that function, I was given the responsibilities of a common judge in Israel. From the very beginning this was the part of the calling that I faced with the greatest apprehension, but I soon learned it was also the area in which I could provide the greatest service.
As a judge, I was responsible to hear confessions of ward members who had transgressed to such a degree that their membership in or fellowship with the Church might be brought into question. This happened, I am sorry to say, far too frequently. One of my friends asked me at that time if the students had lots of problems. I replied, halfway truthfully, that they had only a few problems—over and over. But it was precisely this “over and over” that troubled me, because not only did many ward members suffer from serious transgression, but certain of them repeated the same transgression even after coming to their bishop to try to get things resolved.
At first this fact astonished me. These students would gather up the courage to come to me and admit that they had committed acts of transgression. And I think that they were sincere in their desire to change their lives. Some of them were racked with pain and misery, and it was rare that tears were not shed by the time our interview had ended. But all too often, sometimes even within a day or two, they were back in even greater anguish to confess that they had repeated their sin.
As we would discuss the principle of repentance, I found that they were generally quite knowledgeable. Many of them could repeat lists of steps that should be taken, and many of them put a good deal of emphasis on forgiving themselves. But clearly something was lacking, for their sorrow, though genuine, did not lead to change. It was, as Paul put it, “the sorrow of the world [that] worketh death.” What they needed was “godly sorrow [that] worketh repentance to salvation.” (2 Cor. 7:10.)
It was in a simple context—that of reviewing the Articles of Faith with a new member of the Church—that I finally discovered the error in my counseling. I found that I had been dealing with the second principle of the gospel before treating the first. That is, I had placed repentance before faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. This may not seem to be a dramatic insight, but it was for me and for my ward members whom I counseled. For we rediscovered the fact that repentance is a dead and useless principle unless it is preceded by faith in Jesus Christ. The reason behind this statement is very clear: because of our imperfections, we are incapable of paying the debt of sin. Thus, without the grace and mercy of Christ, that debt cannot be paid.
What I and my ward members had failed to do was to plead with the Lord that he might “have mercy and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we might receive forgiveness of our sins.” Instead, we had suffered the sorrow of the world that leads only to death.

Wise parents see in every need of others a way to bring blessings into the lives of their sons and daughters. Three children recently carried containers holding a delicious dinner to our front door. Their parents knew that we needed help, and they included their children in the opportunity to serve us.
The parents blessed our family by their generous service. By their choice to let their children participate in the giving, they extended blessings to their future grandchildren. The smiles of the children as they left our home made me confident that will happen. They will tell their children of the joy they felt giving kindly service for the Lord. I remember that feeling of quiet satisfaction from childhood as I pulled weeds for a neighbor at my father’s invitation. Whenever I am invited to be a giver, I remember and believe the lyrics “Sweet is the work, my God, my King.”2
I know those lyrics were written to describe the joy that comes from worshipping the Lord on the Sabbath. But those children with the food at our door were feeling on a weekday the joy of doing the Lord’s work. And their parents saw the opportunity to do good and spread joy over generations.

“That was a very busy time for both of us, but I remember how one day we were out fishing not far from here. I knew that Nate and his wife were having some troubles then, though I didn’t understand all the circumstances and everything. Eventually we started talking about it. I told him that I thought he was risking a lot for this religion, with his marriage and all. He nodded, said he knew that. So then I asked him straight out why he was doing it. He was really quiet for a minute, and then he said, ‘Jack, do you remember those nights out on the trail when we slept under the stars?’
“We used to stay awake for hours talking about God and life and what we were supposed to be doing with our time. We put a lot of thought into it, but never got very far. Anyway, Nate told me, ‘I finally found answers for those questions we always wondered about.’ Sometimes Nate had told me that he was afraid of being alone. He was afraid that one day his friends and family would all be gone, and he’d be alone. But now he said that he knew that God knew and loved him. He said that God would help him in his hard times, that he was helping him right then.
“I remember being amazed at the excitement and passion he spoke with. He was a changed man, and there was something in his voice that gave me hope.”
Jack paused. A placid thoughtfulness had settled over his face. “Now, I didn’t understand everything he told me right then, and it was actually a long time before I did, but by the time he finished speaking I had this beautiful, peaceful feeling that made me want to believe everything he’d said. I never doubted Nate after that.” Jack looked at the engine, then handed Tim the wrench. “I think we’re done.”

“Ssshhh!” warns one of the girls. “They’ll hear you.” She buttons the jacket of her hot-pink polyester jump suit, straightens the popcorn ball in her hair, and edges towards the house. But it’s no use. The group bursts into loud laughter again.
So much for a “secret” mission.
By this time the people in the house wonder what all the women are doing gathered on their porch. After all, it isn’t every day that 14 girls and their Young Women leaders come to visit, especially not dressed like this.
The girls are wearing neon polyester outfits. They’ve arranged tinfoil, popcorn balls and tacky fake flowers in their hair. To top it off, several girls are wearing curling irons as necklaces.
When a young woman opens the door to see what all the commotion is about, the group bursts into an enthusiastic, out-of-tune song. They sway to the music and slap their knees.
By the time the song is over the girl being visited is laughing hysterically. So is her family. The group gives the girl a plate of cookies, smothers her with hugs, and leaves as loudly as they came—another mission accomplished.
The Secret Agents of Love, or SAL Squad, started three years ago to accomplish an important mission: to unite the Bluffdale (Utah) Second Ward Young Women.
Not that all of the girls were inactive. They were just … bored. And they weren’t showing up for activities. One night, after another activity fizzled, some of the girls started talking to their leaders about what they could do.
“We were feeling pretty discouraged. Then someone mentioned this story about a girl who ran around doing things to make other people happy. All of a sudden, our attitudes changed. We realized that we could do the same thing,” said Marci Nielson, 18.
The first project was to deliver cookies. Cars honked. People yelled. Trucks pulled over at the sight of several girls wearing cone heads and army boots and riding on two-seated bicycles.
“We didn’t miss anyone. If they were at work, we went right up to the drive-up window of the restaurant, or to the produce section of the supermarket. I think it really made everyone feel good,” said Kristin Sherwood, 18.
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe that this is a service project. It helps to cheer up someone’s day in a really fun way,” said Katie Drury, 18.
All of the girls admit they’re having fun. But they also say that somewhere between the cookies, songs, and costumes, something is changing lives—especially theirs.
Kristin admits that before this Young Women activity started, she didn’t take the time to get to know the younger girls. “I would have missed out on some great friendships.”
The SAL Squad operates with two secret weapons—(1) everyone, girls and Young Women leaders alike, joins in, and (2) love. They say they don’t leave home without it.
“I’ll always remember the fun we’ve had,” says Janalyn Anderson, 18. “But my favorite memory will be of someone opening the door and looking at us like, ‘I’m important to you? You dressed up and did all this for me?’ It has changed lives. And all it took was love.”

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley told a story after going into Vietnam that to me was a great lesson. There was a young man, as I remember it, who was in the military service in Vietnam and who joined the Church and was now about to go back to his home country in Southeast Asia.
Brother Hinckley said to him, “What is it going to do to you when you get back home now that you have joined the Church?”
“Oh,” said the youth, “I will be cast out. My family will disown me. I will have difficulty in school. I will have no military rank.”
Elder Hinckley then asked, “Isn’t that a pretty big price to pay?”
And this young man looked at Elder Hinckley and said, “Well, the gospel is true, isn’t it?”
That was a soul-searching question for Brother Hinckley, who replied: “Yes, my boy, with all my soul, the gospel is true.”
And then this young man said, “Well, what else matters then?”

I was prepared for those callings by working with many great leaders. One of those was Monte Keller. An officer in the United States Air Force, he was stationed in the Philippines and served as branch president. I was his counselor, and he showed me what it meant to be a Church leader. He truly loved the people and spent a lot of time serving them.
Sometimes we were out late at night visiting the members. When we had work days at the chapel, he always did the hardest work. Brother Keller also showed me how to conduct meetings, organize activities, call speakers for sacrament meeting, and interview and home teach members. He taught me leadership through his example. Throughout my church service, I have tried to serve as he did.

When I was 17, about ready to graduate from high school as a very average student with some handicaps, as I thought, everything around us came apart one Sunday morning. The next day we were called to the high school auditorium. On the stage was a chair with a small radio. The principal switched on the radio. We then heard the voice of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as he announced that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. The United States was at war with Japan.

Later that scene was repeated. Again the voice of President Roosevelt, this time announcing that our country was at war with Germany. World War II had exploded across the world.

All at once our future was uncertain. We did not know what was ahead. Would we live to get married and have a family?

By the time we graduated from high school, many of our classmates had marched away to war, some of them never to return. The rest of us were soon to enter the military. We did not know about our future. Would we survive the war? Would there be enough of the world left when we returned?

Against the certainty that I would be drafted, I joined the air force. Soon I was in Santa Ana, California, for preflight training.

I did not then have a firm testimony that the gospel was true, but I knew that my seminary teachers, Abel S. Rich and John P. Lillywhite, knew it was true. I had heard them testify, and I believed them. I thought to myself, “I will lean on their testimonies until I gain one of my own.” And so it was.

I had heard about patriarchal blessings but had not received one. In each stake there is an ordained patriarch who has the spirit of prophecy and the spirit of revelation. He is authorized to give personal and private blessings to those who come recommended by their bishops. I wrote to my bishop for a recommend.

J. Roland Sandstrom was the ordained patriarch living in the Santa Ana stake. He knew nothing about me and had never seen me before, but he gave me my blessing. In it I found answers and instruction.

While patriarchal blessings are very private, I will share a short quote from mine: “You shall be guided through the whisperings of the Holy Spirit and you shall be warned of dangers. If you heed those warnings, our Heavenly Father will bless you so that you might again be united with your loved ones.”

That word if, though small in print, loomed as big as the page. I would be blessed to return from the war if I kept the commandments and if I heeded the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Although that gift had been conferred upon me at baptism, I did not yet know what the Holy Ghost was or how the promptings work.

What I needed to know about the promptings I found in the Book of Mormon. I read that “angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, … feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.”

In 1878 my great-grandfather George F. Richards was 17 years of age. As was sometimes the case in those days, he had already been ordained an elder. One Sunday his mother was groaning in intense pain. As his father was not available, the bishop and several others were invited to give her a blessing, but no relief came. Accordingly, she turned to her son George and asked him to lay hands on her head. He wrote in his diary, “In the midst of my tears for my mother’s suffering and the task of performing an administration such as I had never yet done, I retired to another room where I wept and prayed.”
When he became composed, he laid his hands on her and gave her a very simple blessing. He later noted, “My mother ceased her groaning and received relief from her suffering while my hands were yet on her head.” He then recorded in his diary this most insightful observation. He said he had always felt that the reason his mother did not get relief from the bishop’s blessing was not because the Lord failed to honor the bishop’s blessing but because the Lord had reserved this blessing for a boy, to teach him a lesson that the priesthood in the boy is just as powerful as the priesthood in the man when exercised in righteousness.
Tonight I would like to speak about that power. Though I will refer to deacons quorum presidents, the principles discussed apply to all Aaronic Priesthood youth and their respective leaders, including our teachers quorum presidents and assistants to the priests quorum president.
While serving as a mission president, I observed that there was a dramatic increase in the spirituality and leadership skills of young men during their mission years. If we could somehow quantify these qualities over their Aaronic Priesthood and mission years, perhaps they would look something like the blue line you see on this graph. In my mind there are at least three key factors that contribute to such dramatic growth in the mission years: (1) we trust these young men as never before, (2) we have high but loving expectations of them, and (3) we train and retrain them so they can fulfill those expectations with excellence.
Mission Years
Spirituality and Leadership
One might appropriately ask, “Why could not these same principles be employed with deacons quorum presidents?” If that were done, perhaps the growth would commence much earlier and look more like the green line on the graph. For a moment, may I address how these principles might apply to a deacons quorum president.
First—trust. We can entrust our deacons quorum presidents with great responsibility. The Lord certainly does—as demonstrated by His willingness to give them keys, meaning the right to preside over and direct the work in their quorum. As an evidence of this trust, we call deacons quorum presidents by revelation, not solely by seniority or any other similar factor. Every leader in this Church, including the deacons quorum president, has the right to know, and should know, that he has been called by revelation. This assurance helps him know that God both trusts him and sustains him.
The second and third attributes are interconnected—high expectations and the related training to fulfill them. I learned a great lesson in the mission field: missionaries generally rise or fall to the mission president’s level of expectation, and so it is with deacons quorum presidents. If they are expected only to conduct quorum meetings and attend bishopric youth committee meetings, then that is all they will do. But you leaders can give them a greater vision—the Lord’s vision. And why is vision so critical? Because with increased vision comes increased motivation.
Inherent in every calling in this Church is the right to receive revelation. Hence, these deacons quorum presidents need to know they have the right to receive revelation to recommend their counselors, the right to receive revelation concerning rescue of the lost, and the right to receive revelation to train the quorum members in their duties.
A wise leader will teach the deacons quorum president those principles that will be helpful in obtaining revelation. He may teach him the unequivocal promise of the Lord: “If thou shalt ask, thou shalt receive revelation upon revelation” (D&C 42:61). The Lord is most generous in giving revelation. Did He not remind Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery, “As often as thou hast inquired thou hast received instruction of my Spirit” (D&C 6:14)? And so it can be with you deacons quorum presidents. The Lord loves you and wants to reveal to you His mind and will. Could you ever imagine the Lord having a problem He could not solve? I can’t. Because you are entitled to revelation, He can help you solve every concern you have as president of your quorum if you will but seek His help.
You wonderful leaders might teach this deacons quorum president that revelation is not a substitute for hard work and homework. President Henry B. Eyring once asked President Harold B. Lee, “How do I get revelation?” President Lee responded, “If you want to get revelation, do your homework.”1 The wise leader might discuss with his deacons quorum president some of the spiritual homework he might do in preparing to recommend his counselors. He might need to ask and answer questions such as: Who would be a good example that could lift the other boys? Or who would be sensitive to the needs of those who face special challenges?
And finally this wise leader might teach him how to recognize and act upon revelation when it comes. We live in an action-packed, fast-paced world where bright lights and high-volume speakers are the norm. But this young man needs to know that this is the world’s way, not the Lord’s way. The Savior was born in the relative anonymity of a manger; He performed the most magnificent and incomparable act of all time in the quiet of a garden; and Joseph received his First Vision in the seclusion of a grove. God’s answers come by the still, small voice—feelings of peace or comfort, impressions to do good, enlightenment—sometimes in the form of tiny seeds of thoughts which if reverenced and nourished can grow into spiritual redwoods. Sometimes these impressions or thoughts might even cause you deacons quorum presidents to recommend as a counselor or extend an assignment to a young man who is currently less active.
Years ago as a stake presidency, we felt impressed to call a good man as stake clerk. At the time he was temporarily struggling with regular Church attendance. We knew, however, that if he accepted the calling, he would do a marvelous job.
We extended the call, but he replied, “No, I don’t think I can do it.”
Then an impression came. I said, “Well, I guess the Glendale stake won’t have a stake clerk then.”
Shocked, he responded, “What are you talking about? You have to have a stake clerk.”
I replied, “Do you want us now to call someone else to serve as stake clerk when the Lord impressed us to call you?”
“OK,” he said, “I’ll do it.”
And do it he did. There are not only many men but also many boys who will respond to a call when they know the Lord is calling them and that the Lord needs them.
Next you can let this deacons quorum president know that one of the Lord’s expectations of him is to rescue the lost, both less active and nonmember. The Lord declared His central mission in these terms: “For the Son of man is come to save that which was lost” (Matthew 18:11). If it is a priority of the Savior to rescue the lost, if it is a priority of President Thomas S. Monson to do so, as demonstrated by his entire life, should it not be a priority of every leader, every deacons quorum president in this Church to do likewise? At the core of our leadership, as a central part of our ministry, should be the burning, driving, unrelenting resolve to go get the lost and bring them back.
One young man who was visited by his quorum members said: “It was surprising today when … 30 people just came up to my house. … It makes me want to go to church now.” How can a youth resist love and attention like that?
I am thrilled when I hear the many stories of deacons quorum presidents who have caught the vision and occasionally are teaching all or part of the lesson in their quorum meetings. Several weeks ago I attended a deacons quorum class. A 12-year-old boy gave a 25-minute lesson on the Atonement. He commenced by asking his fellow deacons what they thought the Atonement was. Then he shared some meaningful scriptures and asked thoughtful questions, to which they responded. Realizing, however, there was more time than remaining lesson material, he had enough presence of mind and perhaps some forewarning from his father to ask the leaders who were present what questions they had been asked about the Atonement on their missions and their responses. He then concluded with his testimony. I listened in awe. I thought to myself, “I don’t recall ever giving a significant part of a lesson when I was an Aaronic Priesthood youth.” We can raise the bar and vision for these young men, and they will respond.
You leaders lift these deacons quorum presidents best when you let them lead out and you step back from the spotlight. You have magnified your calling best not when you give a great lesson but when you help them give a great lesson, not when you rescue the one but when you help them do so.
There is an old saying: do not die with your music still in you. In like manner I would say to you adult leaders, do not get released with your leadership skills still in you. Teach our youth at every opportunity; teach them how to prepare an agenda, how to conduct meetings with dignity and warmth, how to rescue the one, how to prepare and give an inspired lesson, and how to receive revelation. This will be the measure of your success—the legacy of leadership and spirituality you leave ingrained in the hearts and minds of these young men.
If you deacons quorum presidents will magnify your calling, you will be instruments in God’s hands even now, for the priesthood in the boy is just as powerful as the priesthood in the man when exercised in righteousness. And then when you make temple covenants and become the missionaries and future leaders of this Church, you will know how to receive revelation, how to rescue the one, and how to teach the doctrine of the kingdom with power and authority. Then you will have become the youth of the noble birthright. Of this I so testify in the name of Jesus Christ, who is the Savior and Redeemer of the world, amen.

When I was 14, my father was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph nodes. Chemotherapy treatment was possible, which doctors estimated would help give my father a 50 percent chance of living eight years or longer. The decision was made to go through with the treatment, and during the next six months my father went in weekly for chemotherapy.
At the end of the chemotherapy, my ward in Bountiful held a special fast for my father. It was a marvelous experience to join in faith for a common cause. When the diagnosis came back, the doctors could find no sign of cancer. After I left for my mission, I would receive letters from my father telling me of his continued improvements and how he even ran a marathon. Things seemed to be going well.

José A. Moscão was noticing a trend: the youth who were coming to the Campinas Brazil Temple had a lot of “down time.”
Brother Moscão, the director of the family history center located adjacent to the temple, knew that because of the distance many youth had to travel to get to the temple, most came in caravans and stayed for several days. The time between their sessions in the baptistry and meals and waiting for their parents and leaders who were participating in other temple ordinances couldn’t be avoided.
But maybe, he thought, he could offer the youth an alternative to wandering the temple grounds whenever they had some free time.
So he did.
He began inviting youth into the center and offering to teach them how to do FamilySearch indexing.
At first some were shy or reluctant. But Brother Moscão said that when he spoke to them of rescuing people from darkness and bringing to light their names in obedience to the words of a living prophet, the youth were touched (see David A. Bednar, “The Hearts of the Children Shall Turn,” Liahona and Ensign, Nov. 2011, 24–27).
That the temple and the family history center are located within the same facility is significant; it underscores in a physical way that temple and family history work are two parts of one great effort. That, said George A. Oakes, Campinas Brazil Temple president, is something that the youth in the temple district are coming to learn.
“Prior to the emphasis on getting them involved in family history and indexing, their trip to the temple was mainly for the purpose of being baptized for the dead. Now indexing experiences are becoming part of their work,” he said.
When youth come into the center, Brother Moscão and the missionaries volunteering at the center cover the following principles in a brief, informal orientation:
They are becoming saviors on mount Zion (see Obadiah 1:21).
They are heeding the call of a prophet (see “The Hearts of the Children Shall Turn”).
They are rescuing people from darkness—the darkness of long-forgotten films and the dusty books of registry offices and churches. Indexing brings those names to light and makes them searchable so that their families can find them.
In joining this work, they will be participating in another aspect of “the most glorious of all subjects belonging to the everlasting gospel, namely, the baptism for the dead” (D&C 128:17).
They will be using their time in the great work of redeeming the dead, which blesses families.
All of us are part of the family of God, so in indexing the names of people they do not know, they are still helping their family.
Once they understand how to participate in indexing, they have an opportunity to teach their family members and other young people in their wards and branches to participate too.
Brother Moscão and the missionaries then use the center’s computers to show teens how to start indexing and how to install and use the software when they get home. Once they understand, Brother Moscão said, they “begin to index with a force like no other.”
The numbers reflect that enthusiasm. In the first two months of 2012, visitors indexed 6,370 names; 3,305 of those were indexed by youth ages 12 to 18. In fact, to accommodate the growing interest in indexing, the Campinas family history center often extends its regular hours of 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. and stays open as late as 10:00 p.m.
But the youth aren’t leaving indexing behind when they leave the temple. When they get home, they continue their role in what Brother Moscão calls “the army of more than 170,000 active indexers that the Church has today.” Many are meeting goals for Duty to God and Personal Progress with their indexing work.
Earlier this year, Isabela A., age 16, of Vila Velha, Espírito Santo, Brazil, traveled with her mother and sister to the temple; the last day of the trip was the one-year anniversary of her grandmother’s death. Isabela was baptized for her grandmother, and her mother did the other temple ordinances for her.
“I felt during this trip that I needed to do something good,” explained Isabela. “I wanted to learn to index, and I received help from Brother José Moscão.
“Then, when I was being baptized for my grandmother, the Spirit touched me deeply. I realized there were many people beyond the veil waiting endlessly, and they needed my help. I realized I could give a bit of my time to serve and that I could do a lot for these people. Indexing is a labor of love.”

Josh patted his stomach, feeling more than a little full.
“That was so good,” he said, smiling at Mom and Dad.
“Are you done already?” Mom asked. “You must have been really hungry.”
“I was,” Josh said. He eyed the indoor playground in the restaurant where they were eating. “Can I go play now?”
Dad nodded. “Go ahead.”
Josh jumped up from the table, cleared away his trash, and headed to the playground. He knew it wouldn’t be long before his little brother and sister came to join him.
He had just finished climbing to the top of what he imagined to be a giant mountain where he was about to battle a dragon when he heard a voice chirp from far below.
“Joshy?”
That was his sister Anna’s nickname for him. She was almost four. He loved her a lot.
“Just a minute, Anna,” Josh called out as he raced for the twisty slide. In a flash he was down at the bottom, ready to help his sister climb. About halfway up, his younger brother, Brian, joined them. The three of them started off on a grand adventure with dragons and knights and princesses. Anna was the princess, of course. Josh wanted to be the knight, and Brian was happy to be a growly dragon.
It wasn’t long before their imaginary world was interrupted by a group of children coming in to play. Josh didn’t mind. He liked making new friends. After a few minutes, though, he began to wonder if playing with them was a good idea. The kids were nice, but they kept swearing.
Josh had been baptized a year ago, and he had been trying hard to choose the right. Mom and Dad had been talking a lot about choosing which words to use. They had taught him that Heavenly Father didn’t like swearing, mean words, or name-calling.
Josh really wanted to stay and play, but he didn’t like listening to bad words. Maybe the other kids would stop if he asked. Josh turned to the group. “Could you please not swear?” he asked quietly.
“Whatever,” one of the boys said. None of the kids stopped swearing. Josh said a quick prayer asking what to do. Into his mind popped an image of himself dressed in knight’s armor, fighting a dragon. Behind him were his brother and sister. All of a sudden, Josh knew it was more important to protect his little brother and sister from hearing the swearing than to keep playing.
“Come on, guys,” Josh said. “Let’s go see Mom and Dad.”
The three of them went down the slide and ran to their family.
“What are you doing back so soon?” Dad asked, ruffling Josh’s hair.
Josh shrugged. “Some kids in there were swearing,” he said. “I didn’t want Anna and Brian to hear it.”
Dad patted him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you for watching out for your little brother and sister.”
Josh smiled. It was almost like he really was a knight watching over those he loved while fighting a dragon. Josh also knew he’d done more than protect his brother and sister—he had also protected himself.

I used to struggle a lot with scrupulosity, which is like religious Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, in a way. I struggled a lot with the scripture that commands us to be perfect. I didn’t understand how that could be possible.
For a while my responsibility to go to Church and read the scriptures kind of felt like a burden. And doing those things became not good habits but obsessively compulsive to me. But I still kept going with those things because ultimately I knew they’re good and what I should be doing.
Eventually, I learned to not think of scripture reading as a habit but to really just get lost in the words of the scriptures. I never stopped reading them, but it became less of a compulsion for me and more of something that I just love to do to feel the words of God.
I realized that Jesus Christ makes up for all our imperfections. The ultimate goal is to live with Heavenly Father and to feel the fullness of joy that only He can give. When you give Christ everything you have, you give Him your whole heart, withholding nothing. He’s then able to give you everything in a spiritual sense. I learned to give my heart to Christ, and the other things involved with being a disciple followed suit.

“It sure will be neat to have a holiday,” Stephanie mumbled, swallowing a bite of cupcake. “Thanksgiving’s almost my favorite holiday—after Christmas, of course, and may be Halloween. What could be better than no school and having all that good stuff to eat?”
Brushing a stray crumb of peanut butter sandwich from her cheek and crunching on a carrot stick, Winona declared, “This’ll be our first Thanksgiving here in Loganport.”
“Well, I’m sure glad you moved here, Winnie. Lunchtime is more fun with somebody like you to talk to. You should see our turkey,” she sighed blissfully, thinking of food again. “Mom says it weighs almost twenty pounds! How big is your family’s turkey?”
“We’re not getting one this year,” Winnie replied.
“Oh, sorry,” Stephanie said softly. “C’mon. There’s the bell. Just two and a half more hours and we’ll be free from school for four days!”
The crisp November air seemed to push Winnie along the sidewalk as she headed home after school. “Hi, Mom,” Winnie called as she closed the door to their apartment.
“I’m in the kitchen, dear,” Mother replied. “How was school? Glad to have vacation for a few days?”
“Uh-huh,” Winnie answered, coming into the kitchen. “Mom, what are we having for Thanksgiving dinner? Stephanie’s family has a twenty-pound turkey.”
“Well, dear, you know we can’t afford to buy a turkey this year. Moving to Loganport took a lot of money. But it’ll be worth it if your father’s work here holds out. It’s a shame the old hotel in Greensburg closed, but we should be glad that Dad likes his new job and that we have a nice place to live.”
“Nice place? This apartment is so plain, Mom. It’s awful! I’d be ashamed to bring anybody here.”
“Your friend Stephanie doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Stephanie understands, I guess. But the other girls at school wouldn’t.”
“Sure they would. Now, how about stirring the soup and setting the table while I put the corn bread into the oven. Dad will be home soon.”
Fifteen minutes later Dad came through the door. “Whew! What a busy day,” he said, hugging his wife. “That kitchen was really hopping today so that everything for the big Thanksgiving buffet tomorrow will be just right. I stuffed so many turkeys I’m going to dream about those birds all night.”
“I wish we were having turkey,” said Winnie.
“We are,” said Mother. “I have a can of turkey noodle soup that I’m going to make into the best turkey corn chowder you ever tasted.”
On Thanksgiving Day Winnie had to admit that the chowder tasted very good. Mom had even splurged and made a pumpkin pie.
Thanksgiving wasn’t bad after all, Winnie thought as she helped her mother with the dishes.
Dad came up behind them and gave them both a squeeze. “Happy Thanksgiving to my two lovely ladies,” he said with a smile. “You know, Mother, our Winona is really turning into quite a good-looking young lady.”
“She’s going to be a teenager before we know it!” Mother declared. She turned and smiled at her daughter. “In less than two weeks you’ll be thirteen years old, Winnie. I can’t believe it.”
“I’d say that calls for a party,” said Dad. “How would you like that, Winnie? You could invite some friends over.”
“A party,” Winnie gasped. “Oh, Dad, that would be super! But—I mean, can we afford it?”
“You and Mother work things out. You’re both pretty good budget balancers.”
The next afternoon Winnie and Stephanie sat at the kitchen table making invitations from colored paper. “Stephanie,” Winnie said after a long silence, “I’m worried. I want to ask the other girls to the party and at the same time I don’t want to. I wish we had a fancier home.”
“Hey, don’t be silly! Anybody dumb enough to worry about what your house looks like doesn’t deserve to be your friend. Besides, everybody likes parties.”
That evening Winnie heard her dad calling as soon as he entered the apartment.
“Where’s Winnie? I have a surprise for her.”
Winnie sprang up and ran to meet him.
“I don’t do this for just any lady friend,” Dad teased, “only good-looking women turning thirteen years old.” He held out a lump of aluminum foil.
Winnie carefully opened the foil. Inside lay ten wishbones.
“From the turkeys at the hotel kitchen,” Dad explained. “You can clean them up and use them for your party.”
“Neat, Dad!” Winnie exclaimed. She soaked the bones and pulled off any traces of meat. Then she put them on a sunny windowsill to dry.
The following week seemed like a blur to Winnie. “They sure have been piling on the homework since we got back,” she remarked to Stephanie at lunch.
“I’ll say! I’m stopping at the library on the way home. Want to come?”
Winnie shook her head. “I have to finish my book report before supper so I can help clean the house for the party. I still can’t believe everybody’s really coming.”
That night, tired but happy, Winnie snuggled under her patchwork quilt. It seemed like only minutes until she heard her mother’s voice. “Time to get up, teenager.”
Winnie scrambled out of bed and got dressed. Today was the big day. Almost before she knew it, she heard giggles on the stairs below. The girls were arriving for the party. Does everything look all right? she wondered. She whirled around and checked out the room: a plate of sandwiches, a bowl of chips, and a lovely cake with pink frosting. Mom’s old tablecloth looked elegant with paper flowers pinned to it. A knock sent her skipping to the door.
The girls bustled inside the apartment and began taking off their coats. “Well, what’s this?” asked Janice Jones, just about the classiest girl in the whole school. She sauntered over to the table. There, suspended on tiny threads above the birthday cake, hung ten wishbones, each tied with a slim pink bow.
“Wishbones,” said Winnie, thinking it was the dumbest thing she’d ever said. Her heart sank. She should have known Janice would think …
“That is absolutely the neatest thing I ever saw,” Janice announced. She made a quick count. “There’s one for each of us.”
“So nobody gets stuck with the short end,” explained Winnie.
“Everyone gets a wish come true today,” Stephanie chimed in.
Winnie knew Stephanie was right. Wishing for a turkey, wishing for a fancy house, wishing for friends—a girl could waste her whole life just wishing. A person thirteen years old ought to get out and do something and be happy about who she is. Reaching up with her scissors, she snipped off a wishbone and handed it to Janice. “Make a wish,” she said with a smile.

One summer my entire family caught a nasty flu virus. Both of my parents and all three of my siblings were confined to their beds, too achy and feverish to even move. I alone escaped the illness. So I took on all the cooking, cleaning, and caring for my miserable family members.
Until, a few days later it got me too.
Somehow word got out that no one in our family was well enough to cook or shop for groceries. Our house was suddenly inundated with food from many of the Relief Society sisters in our ward.
Sister Thompson was particularly zealous in her service. She brought breakfast on Monday, lunch on Tuesday, and dinner on both Wednesday and Thursday. Thursday evening, just after Sister Thompson had left her chicken noodle soup and dinner rolls in the kitchen, I heard another knock at the door. There stood Sister Williams, with a pot of chili and a basket of cornbread.
She asked me if my family had eaten yet as she curiously eyed the food on the table behind me. I told her no, we hadn’t eaten yet, but Sister Thompson had just brought us dinner.
“She has been bringing you food all week, hasn’t she?” Sister Williams asked.
“Yes, she has,” I replied. “We’ve definitely had plenty of food.”
Sister Williams frowned and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, next time you see Sister Thompson, you tell her to take a break and let the rest of us share the blessings too!”
Her conviction brought a smile to my face. I was humbled by the compassionate efforts that had been made to help our family, and since then I have been able to truly appreciate the dual meaning behind that phrase, “share the blessings.”

Jackson stayed close to Mom as they walked into their neighbors’ storage room. It was dark in there. Something brushed across his face, and he jumped.
“Just a little cobweb, Jackson,” Mom said. She bent down and picked up a cardboard box. “Here it is.”
Inside were Mrs. Karras’s wreath and a small nativity set. Jackson helped set them out for her every year while Dad and Grandpa put up the Christmas lights outside.
Jackson carried the box upstairs. He saw Mrs. Karras sitting in her wheelchair in front of the window. Careful not to trip on the cords from her oxygen tank, Jackson placed the box at her feet.
Mrs. Karras made a tiny noise in her throat and pointed outside. Carter and Kennedy, Jackson’s little brother and sister, were rolling in the snow and throwing snowballs at their big yellow dog. Madison, Jackson’s older sister, was handing a string of lights to Dad.
“This would be fun,” Jackson thought, “if it didn’t take all day.”
Not sure what he should say to Mrs. Karras, he put on his hat and mittens and went out to help.
“Jackson, grab me that step stool from the truck,” Grandpa called to him.
“Can you bring me the electrical tape off the front seat?” Dad asked.
“And then come hold these lights for Dad,” Madison ordered.
“Next the dog will be bossing me,” Jackson thought. But he got the stool and the tape, and he took the lights from Madison so she could go warm up inside.
Soon Grandpa walked over and handed him another string. “Even more lights this year than last year,” he said. “It’s going to be quite a display.”
“Why does Mr. Karras keep buying more lights?” Jackson asked.
“Well, he knows they make his wife happy,” Grandpa said, nodding in the direction of the window. “Since she is sick, he does all he can for her.”
Jackson looked to the window and saw that Mr. Karras had pulled a chair next to his wife. He seemed to always be sitting by her and talking to her, even though she couldn’t talk back.
When the last light was strung, Jackson carried the empty boxes back to the storage room. Walking back, he heard Mom telling Mrs. Karras about one of their Christmas traditions.
“On Christmas Eve we sit around the tree, with all its pretty lights, and we share stories about how God’s light has touched us, and the ways we feel and share His love.”
Jackson smiled. He was glad to help Mr. and Mrs. Karras.
That evening after dinner, Dad said, “Time to make sure all those lights came on.”
The family got into the car and Dad drove through town to the top of a hill. In the darkness below, the Karrases’ house was easy to spot.
“Wow,” Jackson whispered.
Lights wrapped around the large pine tree, traced the roofline of the house, and twinkled along the fence. Every bush and every window shone.
“I bet Mrs. Karras is looking out right now, just smiling and smiling,” Madison said.
“I think so too,” Mom agreed.
All at once, Jackson knew what he would talk about when they sat around their tree on Christmas Eve. It seemed to him that all those little Christmas lights were glowing in his heart.

The young adult center in Oslo, Norway, is just one of many centers where young adults are learning how to build the kingdom. Take Mathilde Guillaumet, from France. Missionaries began teaching her at a center in Paris in 2009 after Sister Guillaumet’s friend invited her to learn more about the gospel.
Sister Guillaumet was baptized in 2010 and then moved to Norway for a year, where the local center for young adults continued to play a role in her growing testimony.
“The center really was a home away from home. It was definitely more welcoming than my dorm room,” said Sister Guillaumet. “The center’s missionary couple became like parents—wonderful people to come to for comfort and advice. Both in Paris and in Oslo, I have been able to go to the missionary couple to talk about the gospel, which I couldn’t do at home, considering I am the only member in my family.”

“I am so excited to see my friend again,” one young woman kept telling her parents as she prepared for the special reunion. She had recently returned home after having lived far away. She had looked forward to this moment for a long time.

When the two friends saw each other, they were all smiles. They hugged and laughed as they left together to enjoy becoming reacquainted. However, the parents were surprised when their daughter returned home much earlier than expected.

“What’s wrong?” they asked.

“I was so excited to talk the way we used to, but she just spent the whole time text messaging her other friends.” Her hurt and disappointment were apparent as she declared, “I wish texting had never been invented.”

The palms of my hands were cold and sweaty the morning I first met Lester at the airport in Chardon, Ohio. Lester was a legend. Crusty and dusty was a good way to describe him. He was a short, stubby old guy who had run Dethloff’s Flying Service at Chardon’s Airport for—well—forever. Now he stood sizing me up, not exactly excited by the 15-year-old boy he saw. Finally, he asked, "Okay, what do you want?"
"I want to learn to fly."
"So does every other kid in the world. What should I do about it?"
I wasn’t going to back down, so I asked, "Will you teach me?"
He stared at me for some time. I felt like I was being X-rayed. "Nobody can teach anybody to fly," Lester grumbled. "Only experience can do that! But I can show ya how it’s done. But only if. …"
"If what?"
"If you’re willing to work hard enough to learn."
"I am."
"We’ll soon see, won’t we?" Lester turned and began walking away. I stayed rooted, not sure what to do.
He finally turned around and said, "Well, aren’t you coming?"
"Coming where?"
He looked at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he saw. "Flying for goodness’ sakes. Flying! Isn’t that why you came here?"
The next 40 minutes were crowded. We rattled and bumped across the grass and then climbed toward the clouds. Straight and level. Shallow turns. Climbing. Gliding. Then climbing and gliding turns. He guided me as we eased back toward the runway and didn’t take control until we were crossing the wires strung on poles beside the road. We climbed out. He nodded his head and said, "I guess you’ll do."
I pedaled my bicycle home that day fueled by pure elation.

I was about to go to my room when Reggie drove up, waved, and parked his car. He was young and wiry and came up the steps two at a time. He told me of his small business, his young children, and lack of work, and finally that he simply could not see how he could pledge fifty pounds.

I gripped his shoulder. “Let me suggest that you discuss this with your family and with the Lord. You are not wanting to build this church for me, but for the Lord. Perhaps He has a way in mind for you. But most of all, don’t be depressed. No one expects you to do more than you are capable of doing.”

Reggie was in a hurry, and there was obviously nothing more that I could say. I knew that unless these leaders made their own commitments, their people could not be expected to respond. I did not have much time to think about Reggie; before my visitor was out of sight, a young hotel employee called me to the phone.

This time there was a definite air of excitement among them that had not been there before. I began to speculate, gave up, and asked Reggie to give his report.

“I didn’t see how I could possibly get the fifty pounds, but my wife and I decided to make the pledge anyhow and hope we could find a way to get it. After pledging the fifty pounds, I contacted a nursery to see what I could do. I got a contract to bring in wild flower seeds—we have the most beautiful flowers in the world here in western Australia. I was lucky; the nursery had just received a request for these seeds from a U.S. company. My family and I have given our Saturdays and every possible hour after work to gathering them. We have not only earned our pledge money, but we’ve also received some side benefits from the work. The children enjoyed the family outings as well as the opportunity to earn extra money. We have started some projects of our own at home that we could never afford before.” He looked at each of us and smiled, “It sure has been a great benefit for us!”

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
Wilford Woodruff traveled across the United States several times as a leader in the Church. One time he stayed overnight in Indiana on his way to meet with the Saints in Boston, Massachusetts.
Wilford: I think we should sleep here tonight. I know of some brethren who will let us stay with them.
Wilford, his wife, and one of their children decided to sleep in the carriage.
Wife: It looks like all of the other children are settled down in the house for the night. Good night, Wilford.
Wilford: Good night.
Not long after getting in bed, Wilford heard a voice tell him to move his carriage.
Wilford: I have to move the carriage.
Wife: What for?
Wilford: I do not know. But I do recognize the voice of the Spirit, and it’s telling me to move.
Wilford moved the carriage forward. About 30 minutes later a sudden whirlwind blew a nearby oak tree over. The huge tree was snapped into pieces and crushed two fences.
When the Woodruffs’ hosts and children came out to look at the damage, they noticed that the tree had landed right where Wilford’s carriage was parked before he moved it.
In the morning the Woodruffs were able to safely continue their journey, and they went on their way rejoicing.
Wilford: By obeying the revelation of the Spirit of God to me, I saved my life as well as the lives of my wife and child.