Gospel Story Finder

Some weeks ago a bewildered father asked, “Why is it I seem to be able to communicate with everyone except my own son?”
I responded with, “What do you mean you can’t communicate with your son?”
“It’s just that whenever I try to tell him anything, he tunes me out,” he replied.
During our private discussion which followed, and very often since, I have concluded that perhaps one of the principal reasons we fail to relate appropriately with family members is because we fail to apply some basics of personal communications. In Hebrews 13:16 we read, “But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” Communications in the family will often be a sacrifice because we are expected to use our time, our means, our talent, and our patience to impart, share, and understand. Too often we use communication periods as occasions to tell, dictate, plead, or threaten. Nowhere in the broadest sense should communication in the family be used to impose, command, or embarrass.
To be effective, family communication must be an exchange of feelings and information. Doors of communication will swing open in the home if members will realize time and participation on the part of all are necessary ingredients. In family discussions, differences should not be ignored, but should be weighed and evaluated calmly. One’s point or opinion usually is not as important as a healthy, continuing relationship. Courtesy and respect in listening and responding during discussions are basic in proper dialogue. As we learn to participate together in meaningful associations, we are able to convey our thoughts of love, dependence, and interest. When we are inclined to give up in despair in our efforts to communicate because other family members have failed to respond, perhaps we would do well not to give up, but rather to give and take in our conversations. How important it is to know how to disagree with another’s point of view without being disagreeable. How important it is to have discussion periods ahead of decisions. Jones Stephens wrote, “I have learned that the head does not hear anything until the heart has listened, and that what the heart knows today the head will understand tomorrow.”
Let me share with you seven basic suggestions for more effective family communication.
A willingness to sacrifice. Be the kind of a family member who is willing to take time to be available. Develop the ability and self-discipline to think of other family members and their communication needs ahead of your own—a willingness to prepare for the moment—the sharing moment, the teaching moment. Shed the very appearance of preoccupation in self, and learn the skill of penetrating a family member’s shield of preoccupation. Sad is the day when a daughter is heard to say, “My mother gives me everything except herself.”
Too early and too often we sow the seeds of “Can’t you see I’m busy? Don’t bother me now.” When we convey the attitude of “Go away, don’t bother me now,” family members are apt to go elsewhere or isolate themselves in silence. All family members on some occasion or other must be taken on their own terms so they will be willing to come, share, and ask.
It takes personal sacrifice to communicate when conditions are right for the other person—during the meal preparation, after a date, a hurt, a victory, a disappointment, or when someone wants to share a confidence. One must be willing to forego personal convenience to invest time in establishing a firm foundation for family communication. When communication in the family seems to be bogging down, each individual should look to himself for the remedy.
If we would know true love and understanding one for another, we must realize that communication is more than a sharing of words. It is the wise sharing of emotions, feelings, and concerns. It is the sharing of oneself totally. “Who is a wise man and endued with knowledge among you? let him shew out of a good conversation his works with meekness of wisdom.” (James 3:13.)
A willingness to set the stage. The location, setting, or circumstances should be comfortable, private, and conversation-conducive. Effective communications have been shared in a grove of trees, on the mount, by the sea, in family home evening, during a walk, in a car, during a vacation, a hospital visit, on the way to school, during the game. When the stage is set, we must be willing to let the other family member be front and center as we appropriately respond.
Months and years after the score of a baseball game is long forgotten, the memory of having been there all alone with Dad will never dim. I’ll not soon forget a ten-year-old girl excitedly telling me she had just ridden in the car with her daddy all the way from Salt Lake to Provo and back. “Was the radio on?” I asked. “Oh, no,” she responded, “all Daddy did was listen and talk to me.” She had her daddy all to herself in a setting she’ll not soon forget. Let the stage be set whenever the need is there. Let the stage be set whenever the other person is ready.
A willingness to listen. Listening is more than being quiet. Listening is much more than silence. Listening requires undivided attention. The time to listen is when someone needs to be heard. The time to deal with a person with a problem is when he has the problem. The time to listen is the time when our interest and love are vital to the one who seeks our ear, our heart, our help, and our empathy.
We should all increase our ability to ask comfortable questions, and then listen—intently, naturally. Listening is a tied-in part of loving. How powerful are the words, “Wherefore, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath:
“For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.” (James 1:19–20.)
A willingness to vocalize feelings. How important it is to be willing to voice one’s thoughts and feelings. Yes, how important it is to be able to converse on the level of each family member. Too often we are inclined to let family members assume how we feel toward them. Often wrong conclusions are reached. Very often we could have performed better had we known how family members felt about us and what they expected.
John Powell shares this touching experience: “It was the day my father died. … In the small hospital room, I was supporting him in my arms, when … my father slumped back, and I lowered his head gently onto the pillow. I … told my mother … :
“‘It’s all over, Mom. Dad is dead.’
“She startled me. I will never know why these were her first words to me after his death. My mother said: ‘Oh, he was so proud of you. He loved you so much.’
“Somehow I knew … that these words were saying something very important to me. They were like a sudden shaft of light, like a startling thought I had never before absorbed. Yet there was a definite edge of pain, as though I were going to know my father better in death than I had ever known him in life.
“Later, while a doctor was verifying death, I was leaning against the wall in the far corner of the room, crying softly. A nurse came over to me and put a comforting arm around me. I couldn’t talk through my tears. I wanted to tell her:
“‘I’m not crying because my father is dead. I’m crying because my father never told me that he was proud of me. He never told me that he loved me. Of course, I was expected to know these things. I was expected to know the great part I played in his life and the great part I occupied of his heart, but he never told me.’” (The Secret of Staying in Love, Niles, Ill.: Argus, 1974, p. 68.)
How significant are God’s words when he took the time to vocalize his feelings with, “This is my beloved Son,” yes, even the powerful communication, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” (Matt. 3:17.)
Often parents communicate most effectively with their children by the way they listen to and address each other. Their conversations showing gentleness and love are heard by our ever-alert, impressionable children. We must learn to communicate effectively not only by voice, but by tone, feeling, glances, mannerisms, and total personality. Too often when we are not able to converse with a daughter or wife we wonder, “What is wrong with her?” when we should be wondering, “What is wrong with our methods?” A meaningful smile, an appropriate pat on the shoulder, and a warm handshake are all-important. Silence isolates. Strained silent periods cause wonderment, hurt, and, most often, wrong conclusions.
God knows the full impact of continuing communication as he admonishes us to pray constantly. He, too, has promised to respond as we relate to him effectively.
A willingness to avoid judgment. Try to be understanding and not critical. Don’t display shock, alarm, or disgust with others’ comments or observations. Don’t react violently. Work within the framework of a person’s free agency. Convey the bright and optimistic approach. There is hope. There is a way back. There is a possibility for better understanding.
Let a common ground for personal decision be developed. “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more” (John 8:11) are words that are just as gentle and effective today as when they were first uttered.
Avoid imposing your values on others. When we can learn to deal with issues without involving personalities and at the same time avoid bias and emotions, we are on our way to effective family communications. When a family member makes a decision which may be inadequate or improper, do we have the ability and patience to convey the attitude that we don’t agree with his decision but he has the right of choice and is still a loved member of the family?
It is easy to point out mistakes and pass judgment. Sincere compliments and praise come much harder from most of us. It takes real maturity for a parent to apologize to a child for an error. An honest apology often makes the son or daughter feel surprisingly warm toward the mother or father or brother or sister. “For in many things we offend all. If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole body.” (James 3:2.)
A willingness to maintain confidences. Be worthy of trust even in trivial questions and observations. Weighty questions and observations will only follow if we have been trustworthy with the trivial. Treat innermost trusts and concerns with respect. Build on deserved trust. Individuals who are blessed to have a relationship with someone to whom they can confidently talk and trust are fortunate indeed. Who is to say a family trust is not greater than a community trust?
A willingness to practice patience. Patience in communication is that certain ingredient of conduct we hope others will exhibit toward us when we fail to measure up. Our own patience is developed when we are patient with others.
“Be patient; be sober; be temperate; have patience, faith, hope and charity.” (D&C 6:19.)
“I get sick and tired of listening to your complaints” and “I have told you a thousand times” are but two of many often-repeated family quotations that indicate patience is gone and channels of communication are plugged.
It takes courage to communicate patiently. We constantly need to express pride, hope, and love on a most sincere basis. Each of us needs to avoid coming through as one who has given up and has become totally weary in trying.
The correction of family members in front of others is to be avoided. Much more notice is taken in quiet, private conversation. Calm endurance is a priceless virtue in one’s relationship with all family members.
When family members tune each other out, communication is not taking place. Words spoken are unheard, unwanted, and resisted when we fail to understand the basics for proper interchange. Each must be willing to do his part to improve, since the family unit is the basic foundation of the Church. Proper communication will always be a main ingredient for building family solidarity and permanence.
I pray our Heavenly Father will help us to communicate more effectively in the home through a willingness to sacrifice, a willingness to listen, a willingness to vocalize feelings, a willingness to avoid judgment, a willingness to maintain confidences, and a willingness to practice patience. “How forcible are right words!” (Job 6:25.) Yes, how forcible are right words shared at the right moment with the right person.
May our gracious and kind Heavenly Father help us in our needs and desires for more effective family communication. Communication can help build family unity if we will work at it and sacrifice for it. For this goal, I pray in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Recently I traveled to Mexico City with the Northern Wasatch Youth Orchestra for a series of concerts. While there we all stayed in one hotel. There was an intellectual, refined old lady who lived in the hotel alone, and each night she and a few others would come to the lobby and watch the funny, loud American kids. By the time the orchestra had been there a week, she said to my mother in broken English, “Oh, please take these young people all over our country so our young people can see how they behave, for before this we have had little but bad examples from the United States for our children to follow.” And she begged to learn where she could go to hear our symphony play.
After we played a concert with the Ballet Folklorico, some of the performers came to the hotel to visit and learn more about what they called “those clean-looking, talented American kids.”
Later as we came through customs at Dallas, Texas, at 3 A.M. on our way home, they informed us that every piece of luggage must be removed from the plane, including all the instruments—even the large percussion pieces—as many drugs were being smuggled into our country from Mexico. As tired as we all were, each one began helping others, calling out the names of suitcases coming down the belt ramps. Everyone cooperated and willingly lined up for inspection. While the plane was being unloaded and this was taking place, several of the customs inspectors stood together watching us, and suddenly the man in charge came over to some of our tour leaders and asked if we were LDS. He had noticed that no one smoked or used bad language, and when they told him that all but three or four of us were LDS, he said that he had great respect for the members of our church. He remarked to his fellow workers that kids who didn’t smoke wouldn’t be carrying marijuana. They opened very few of our cases after that and hurried us through with dispatch.

I have been remarkably blessed by the moral influence of women, in particular my mother and my wife. Among other women that I look to in gratitude is Anna Daines. Anna and her husband, Henry, and their four children were among the pioneers of the Church in New Jersey, in the United States. Beginning in the 1930s, when Henry was a doctoral student at Rutgers University, he and Anna worked tirelessly with school and civic organizations in Metuchen, where they lived, to overcome deeply rooted prejudice against Mormons and to make the community a better place for all parents to raise their children.

Anna, for example, volunteered at the Metuchen YMCA and made herself indispensable. Within a year she was appointed president of the Mothers’ Auxiliary and then “was asked to run for one of the three women’s positions on the YMCA board of directors. She won without opposition, and so joined the very council that only a few years before had refused to let the Saints meet in their building!”2

One of the most serious deterrents to any success is that we spend too much time practicing those things that we don’t want to be. We might learn a great many important lessons from the story told many years ago by Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick entitled “On the Wrong Bus.” It tells of a man who got on a bus with the intention and desire of going to Detroit. But when he arrived at the end of a long trip, he found himself in Kansas City. At first he would not believe it. When he asked for Woodward Avenue and was told there was no Woodward Avenue, he was indignant—he knew there was. It was some time before he could face the fact that in spite of his good intentions and his earnest desire, he was not in Detroit at all but in Kansas City. Everything was fine except for one little detail; he had just caught the wrong bus.

An example of true love and inspired teaching was found in the life of the late James Collier, who had, through his personal efforts, reactivated a large number of brethren in the Bountiful, Utah, area. I was invited by Brother Collier to address those who had now been ordained elders and who, with their wives and families, had been to the Salt Lake Temple to receive those eternal covenants and blessings for which they had so earnestly strived.
At the banquet honoring this achievement, I could see and I could feel the love that Jim had for those whom he had taught and rescued. Unfortunately, Jim Collier at that time was afflicted with a terminal illness and had to persuade the doctors to allow him to leave the hospital to attend this final night of recognition. As he stood at the pulpit, a large smile came over his face. With tear-filled eyes, he expressed his love to the group. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Brother Collier quipped, “Everyone wants to go to the celestial kingdom, but no one wants to die to get there.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “I’m prepared to go, but I will be there waiting on the other side to greet each of you, my beloved friends.”
He returned to the hospital. His funeral service was held just a few weeks later.

Last year was different for me with ballet because I struggled with some medical challenges. It was really dangerous for me to be dancing because my heart was weak. I needed to rest and recover.
That time was very discouraging. Not only could I not dance, but I was advised to stay away from any physical movement in general, including stretching, strength training, or even walking more than was absolutely necessary. As a dancer, taking a break seemed impossible. Even if I take a break for one week, I return feeling really tight. I couldn’t imagine taking more than a month off.
I was hopeful I would be back to dancing when the new school year came around in the fall. But when it came, I was still healing. In September, after praying a lot, I made the very scary decision to go to a clinic to help with my health.
I also started attending seminary. It was a great way to start my day, immersed in the gospel. I had never had good scripture study habits. Having that hour set aside each day to just dive into the scriptures helped me build a much stronger relationship with God.
Before my medical challenges, I had spent so much time dancing that a lot of my identity was wrapped up in it. Not having it to fall back on during this hard time left me feeling lost and like a piece of me was missing. But I noticed the more I went to seminary, read my scriptures, and surrounded myself with other youth doing the same, the more I started to strengthen my identity as a child of God. After feeling lost for so long, this really helped me find hope and meaning.
One concept that continued to come up during my seminary class helped me a lot. This concept was how Christ strengthens us during our trials. Each class, my seminary teacher encouraged us to write sticky notes about something that “stuck with us.” Looking back, all of my sticky notes focused on Christ being there for me and blessing me in my trials. It felt like I was receiving a daily reminder that Christ was there to help me.
After six long months, I was finally medically cleared to return to dance. At first, I was really nervous because I felt like I had lost all my strength. I kept working, praying, going to church, and hoping that if I tried my best, the Savior would help me. When I returned, although I wasn’t as strong as I used to be, my teacher complimented my strength. She said she was proud of me and my progress.
Even though I struggled a lot, I am thankful my medical challenges gave me the chance to strengthen my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and find my identity as a child of God.
To anyone going through something hard, know that you always have people around you supporting you, whether or not you can see them. You are a child of God. Even though we can’t see Jesus Christ or Heavenly Father, They are watching over us and protecting us. Heavenly Father has a plan for us. Sometimes you might not experience what you want, but your trials can help you get stronger.
I have a testimony that if we pray and establish a relationship with God, He’ll be there to guide us, help us, and strengthen us.
Ellie J., age 15, Oregon, USA
Loves ballet, hanging out with family and friends, and doing service.

Jill Johnson of Sandy, Utah, tells how the Lord blessed her family: “As newly married college students, we had carefully budgeted our meager monthly income. Then the landlord raised our rent. We prayed for a blessing. The next day our old car broke down beyond repair. We wondered why we had these trials all at once, but the loss of the car turned out to be a blessing. With help from family and friends, we found we could manage without a car. The money saved on gas and oil was the same amount as our increase in rent. Sometimes we are blessed for obedience in unexpected ways.”

I was so excited to read “Conver(t)sation” by Laird Roberts in the October New Era. When I read “The best way to get someone interested in the Church is to be friends with him,” it really hit home. My best friend, Diane, is responsible for my conversion. Thanks to her loving patience and friendship, I am now a member of the Church. We were close friends for about four years before I was baptized, and in that time she never once passed judgment on my actions or tried to force the Church on me. When the time was right, she made an appointment for me to have the missionary discussions. She sat through every discussion with me. Her entire family became involved, and her older brother helped teach me the gospel. He confirmed me a member of the Church and recently left on a mission. What a choice experience my baptism was for me! Since my baptism, Diane’s been the perfect example, and we’ve become even closer friends. I am so thankful for her and her family. In fact, they even subscribed to the New Era for me. It is because they took the time to care and offer friendship that I am now a member of the Church.
Becki LeDouxSacramento, California

One evening when my son Peter was only seven weeks old, I sat rocking him in our living room. I was telling him what a beautiful and precious little boy he was when a question came to my mind: “Who would you want to raise this child if you couldn’t do it yourself?”
I thought “I would choose a loving family who had peace and harmony in their home. They would love and encourage him and help him to know he is a child of God. Even when annoyed, they would speak in quiet tones. They would also be honest in both word and deed. I would want Peter to feel comfortable and secure with them.”
“Yes,” I thought, “I would want such a family to love him and to help and encourage him as they raised him in the gospel.”
Then a second thought came clearly to my mind, almost as if Heavenly Father had spoken to me: That’s how I felt as I passed this little spirit into your care.
I knew then how our loving heavenly parents must feel as they give their children to us to rear in mortality. I realized, too, how precious each child is to them just as my children are to me.
As I thought about the parenting characteristics the Lord would want me to have, I felt humbled, for I knew that I would often fail. But I also felt a sense of great joy as I promised my Heavenly Father that I would try hard to be the kind of mother he would have me be.

I love the account of the arrival to the Salt Lake Valley of a large number of converts from England and Wales in 1852. The group was met by the First Presidency at the mouth of Emigration Canyon, accompanied by Captain Pitt’s Band. The Deseret News described them as “a band of pilgrims [including] sisters and children, walking, sunburnt, and weather-beaten, but not forlorn; their hearts were light and buoyant, which was plainly manifest by their happy and joyful countenances.”

As they “passed the Temple Block, … thousands of men, women, and children, gathered, from various parts of the city, to unite in the glorious and joyful welcome.” President Brigham Young addressed them: “May the Lord God of Israel bless you. … We have prayed for you continually; thousands of prayers have been offered up for you, day by day, to Him who has commanded us to gather Israel, save the children of men by the preaching of the gospel, and prepare them for the coming of the Messiah.”

As some of my companions engaged in practices that Latter-day Saints don’t think highly of, such as smoking or drinking, profanity or immorality, it was evident that they didn’t concern themselves about what the Lord would like them to do. When moments of stress came, however, their attitudes changed. I remember when one of these boys, who was not particularly impressed with the life of a former missionary, was scheduled for what was called an elimination flight, and he knew that if he failed the test that day, he would be eliminated from flying in the United States Air Force. He came to me in a very solemn mood and quietly said with tears in his eyes, “Bill, please pray for me. I need it.”

One day my instructor was giving an explanation to five of us in the ready room. In order to explain a certain maneuver, he went to the blackboard. Inasmuch as he was smoking a cigarette, he handed it to me to hold while he made the demonstration, and by this means I had the “privilege” of holding my first cigarette. After he had finished his demonstration at the blackboard, he took his cigarette back, and then he said, “Mr. Bangerter, I apologize for handing you my cigarette. I know you don’t smoke, do you?”

I said, “No, sir, I don’t.”

He said, “You don’t drink either, do you?”

I said, “No, sir.”

He asked, “Do you drink tea?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you drink coffee?”

“No, sir.” He turned to the other four students standing together and said, “Now, men, that’s the Word of Wisdom. We would all be much better off if we lived that way.” You can appreciate that I felt uplifted by that experience.

Another day I was riding in the airplane with my squadron commander. I was about 23 years old, and he was about 40. He was a man of fine manners and polite expression. After we had finished our flight and had landed the airplane, we were taxiing back to the parking area when another airplane came driving past in a way that my squadron commander did not appreciate. He looked over at the other pilot and said to me in a disgusted voice, “Where does that so-and-so think he is going!” And he uttered an oath. We parked the airplane and shut off the engine. As I climbed out, he turned to me and said, “Mr. Bangerter, I am sorry I spoke the way I did back there. I forgot for a moment it was you who was riding with me in the airplane.”

Of course, I realized throughout those years that I was considered different. Some people may have thought me strange. Those with whom I associated, however, frequently expressed admiration for the way I lived. I never found it necessary to break my standards, to remove my garments, or to apologize for being a Latter-day Saint. On more than one occasion during our training, my classmates gathered together for a farewell party or some other special event and had a dinner that, of course, was liberally supplied with liquor. Several of my companions would come to me before the dinner and ask me if I would please be so kind as to drive their car home for them because they would not be able to trust themselves at the conclusion of the party.

I can honestly say that no nonmember of the Church has ever tried to induce me to discard my standards. The only people I remember trying to coerce me to abandon my principles or who ridiculed me for my standards have been non-practicing members of the Church.

I know it is a blessing to stand up for the principles of truth and righteousness. People who value their character and their reputation will be honored to be of the chosen generation and to stand out as representatives of a peculiar and a noble people. I hope I may always find young people who are square. They are the solid kind, and their foundations are secure.

In 1998, when I was Young Men president in my ward, I participated in a stake youth camp. As I was resting after a game, I saw a young man I didn’t know. He was sitting alone on a little mound away from the camp. He had an unpleasant expression on his face. I felt I needed to go over and talk to him.
I introduced myself and asked his name. I don’t remember all that we talked about, but I do remember that I shed a few tears. It was a special conversation that lasted until they called us to the next activity. I rarely saw the young man after that and never had another chance to talk to him.
In August 2005 we had a meeting at our stake center. This same young man came up to me and gave me a letter. It read:
I started thinking today about our conversation in San Martin Park in about 1998. Just to remind you, I was sitting by myself and feeling a bit sad. You came up to me and said you felt you needed to talk to me. You said … the time had come to choose—either to stay with the Church and follow Jesus Christ or leave it and not enjoy the blessings that come from activity in the Church. The one thing that really stayed with me was when you said that if I fell, my whole family would fall with me, but if I would keep moving forward, they would come too.
… A great desire arose in me to help them. … So from the day we had that talk, I made the decision to be faithful to the Lord, and even now, after seven years, I am still faithful, and my family is firm in the gospel and faithful to the Lord. … Thank you so much for being so straightforward and truthful with me. You’ll never know how much good it did.
This young man is now a returned missionary who has been married in the temple. I am grateful to the Lord for giving me the opportunity to serve as a leader. I am grateful to come to understand the importance of putting myself in others’ shoes so I can try to understand what they are going through.
Alejandro Humberto Villarreal, Argentina

It was Gerald Brown who gave the challenge to his son to chop what seemed like way too much wood on that clear fall morning in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Young Vic Brown would rather have been out on the Alberta prairies, running his horse through the crisp morning air, but he respected his father. He knew that he had been asked to chop more wood than a young man of his age should really be capable of chopping. But it was that special kind of father-to-son challenge—and challenge was something that Victor Lee Brown liked, something he faced head on. The wood was needed for cooking and heating in the Brown family home, and Vic knew that cutting the wood was not just a challenge, but one of those necessities for which he could share the burden of responsibility. With the smooth handle of the axe in his young hands, he began to chop. As he swung the axe, Vic could feel the warmth build inside as he worked. The thunk of the axe and the sweet smell of the newly split logs were partial payment, but the best came nearly five hours later as he split the last log and stacked it away. It was a warm and weary feeling, knowing that his task was well done. The appreciation from his father was just as warm and sincere, and it was tinged with just a bit of surprise because his young son had been able to accomplish a man-size task.
Victor L. Brown was serving as first counselor in his deacons quorum presidency at the time of the wood chopping incident, and he was a young man who accepted responsibility and loved the challenge of an unfinished task. The future would prove to hold many great challenges for the young deacon from Cardston.

As the business grew, so did demands on his time: “I was a young bishop with young children and also making multiple trips to Asia each year. My father approached me and said, ‘I observe that when you are with your family, you are not really with them. I am afraid that might mean that when you are at work, you are not completely focused there, and when you are acting in your role as bishop, you might be worried about your work or family. You need greater balance in your life.’”
This counsel had a profound impact. Elder Stevenson says, “I learned that it is important to maintain a balance of family, profession, and Church calling, and to make certain that you take care of yourself as well.”

A few years ago I drove to Temple Square in Salt Lake City to meet an acquaintance of the missionaries. Their guest did not keep the appointment. My response to the missionaries was, “The Lord will provide someone for us to teach.” In less than two to three minutes, two adult men walked through the front door of the North Visitors’ Center and directly up to us. They spoke Spanish, and we did not! We assured them the best we could that someone would be able to help them. In moments, the only Spanish-speaking sister missionaries in the entire mission arrived at the visitors’ center because they felt impressed to come there that morning!
Over a period of several weeks the missionary discussions were taught to those men, and they asked to be baptized. The Lord was true to His word. “An effectual door” was opened in the very moment it was needed for this beautiful experience.

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. At that time, the only means of travel between islands was by sailboat. Because of misunderstandings and traditions, it was difficult to find people willing to listen to us. However, one day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I was working alone at the time but quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. There was a nice breeze that moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the vast Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Those familiar with sailing know that to get anywhere, you need wind. Sometimes there are good breezes without storms and heavy seas, but often they go together. Sailors do not fear storms, for they contain the lifeblood of sailing—wind. What sailors fear is no wind, or being becalmed.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. What more righteous desire could a group of men have? I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
Then one of the older men suggested that everyone kneel and all unite their faith and prayers together, which we did. There was great struggling of spirit, but when the last person opened his eyes, nothing! No movement at all. The sails hung limp and listless. Even the slight ripple of the ocean against the side of the boat had ceased. The ocean seemed like a sea of glass.
Time was moving, and we were getting desperate. This same man now suggested that everyone kneel again in prayer and each person in turn offer a vocal prayer for the whole group. Many beautiful, pleading, faithful prayers ascended to heaven. But when the last one finished and everyone opened their eyes, the sun was still burning down with greater intensity than before. The ocean was like a giant mirror. It was almost as though Satan was laughing, saying, “See, you can’t go anywhere. There is no wind. You are in my power.”
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed this faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. I watched as he unlashed the tiny lifeboat, placed two oars with pins in their places, and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in.”
I answered, “What are you doing? There is hardly room for two people in that tiny thing!”
“Don’t waste any time or effort. Just get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I looked at him incredulously, “Row me where?”
“To the family that wants to hear the gospel. We have an assignment from the Lord. Get in.”
I was dumbfounded. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. But as I looked into the face of that faithful brother, I sensed an intensity in his gaze, an iron will in his very being, and a fixed determination in his voice as he said, “Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen.”
I again objected, “Look, you’re over three times my age. If this is to be, let me row.”
With that same look of determination and faith-induced will, the old man replied, “No. Leave it to me. Get in the boat. Don’t waste more time talking. Let’s go!” At his direction we got into the boat, with me in the front and the old man in the middle, his feet stretching to the end of the boat, his back to me.
The glazed surface of the ocean was disturbed by the intrusion of this small boat and seemed to complain, “This is my territory. Stay out.” Not a wisp of air stirred, not a sound was heard except the creaking of oars and the rattling of pins as the small craft began to move away from the sailboat.
The old man bent his back and began to row. Dip. Pull. Lift. Dip. Pull. Lift. Each dip of the oar seemed to break the resolve of the mirrorlike ocean. Each pull of the oar moved the tiny skiff forward, separating the glassy seas to make way for the Lord’s messenger. Dip. Pull. Lift. The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed. The muscles of his back and arms, strengthened by faith and moved by unalterable determination, flexed in a marvelous cadence like a fine-tuned watch. It was beautiful. We moved quietly, relentlessly toward an inevitable destiny. The old man concentrated his efforts and energy on fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family that wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I waded ashore, met the family, went to their home, and taught them the gospel. As I bore testimony of the power of God in this church, my mind saw an old Tongan man rowing to a distant harbor and waiting patiently there. I testified with a fervor as great as any I have ever felt that God does give power to men and women to do His will if they will have faith in Him. I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.
In the annals of history, few will be aware of this small incident. Hardly anyone will know about this insignificant island, the family who waited, or the obscure, old man who never once complained of fatigue, aching arms, painful back, or a hurting body. He never talked about thirst, the scorching sun, or the heat of the day as he relentlessly rowed uncomplainingly hour after hour. He referred only to the privilege of being God’s agent in bringing a missionary to teach the truth to those who desired to hear. But God knows! He gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when necessary.

But they would tell more than this story when they talked of Catherine. Born 7 January 1855, sixteen months after her parents, who were pioneers, arrived in Salt Lake, Catherine was seven years old when her family was called to help settle Saint George in southern Utah. Catherine remembers that first Christmas in southern Utah. In her stocking, she found a few pieces of molasses candy, some raisins, and a slice from an apple that her mother had brought all the way from Salt Lake City. Her father carved thirteen dolls, and an artistic neighbor painted hair and faces on them. That Christmas, Catherine and twelve other little girls had dolls.

The summer before my senior year in high school, I decided to participate in my hometown’s Olympic-length triathlon. I had always been a runner, so the 10 kilometer run portion didn’t worry me too much. And I liked cycling, even though 40 kilometers seemed like a long time to be on a bike. What I was really concerned about was the 1.5-kilometer swim, but as I trained over the summer, I became more confident in all three events.
The night before the race my dad helped me set up my swim-to-bike transition. We made sure everything was placed just right, so I could get to biking as quickly as possible after I got out of the water.
At 7:00 the next morning, I jumped into the cold river to begin the race. In less than 30 minutes I was out of the water and getting ready to begin the bike course.
Thousands of people were competing, and even more people were there to cheer the racers on. I knew my family members and friends were along the course somewhere, but I didn’t know where, and I didn’t think I could pick their voices out of the large cheering crowd surrounding the transition zone. Just as I was about to hop on my bike, a voice cut through the noise.
“Heather, the chain is off your bike. Heather, put your chain back on. The chain is off your bike.”
It was different from all the other voices that were yelling and cheering the triathletes on. That voice stood out to me because I knew and trusted that voice. It was the voice of my high school cross-country coach. I looked down, and sure enough, my chain was off. I quickly put it back on and began riding. A few hours later I had successfully completed my first Olympic-length triathlon.
Had I not heard my coach, I would have figured out pretty quickly that the chain was off my bike. But I probably would have figured it out with my right foot clipped into my pedal pushing down hard to get my momentum going. Without the anticipated resistance from my chain plus my predisposition to being accident prone, I most likely would have fallen over onto the pavement. It wouldn’t be a race-ending or even a serious injury, but I would have had a skinned-up knee and elbow, along with a big hole poked in my confidence. I was grateful for my coach.
That day on the triathlon course, my parents were at the race supporting me, but they couldn’t be everywhere. I needed help from someone else, in this case my coach, who saw what I didn’t notice. The Spirit can be that someone for us wherever and whenever we are worthy and willing to listen. And if we listen and obey, we will successfully “run … the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1).

During the final phases of World War II, I turned eighteen years old and was ordained an elder—one week before I departed for active duty with the United States Navy. A member of my ward bishopric was at the train station to bid me farewell. Just before train time, he placed in my hand a book. Its title, the Missionary Handbook. I laughed and commented, “I’m not going on a mission.” He answered, “Take it anyway. It may come in handy.”
It did. During basic training our company commander instructed us concerning how we might best pack our clothing in a large sea bag. He advised, “If you have a hard, rectangular object you can place in the bottom of the bag, your clothes will stay more firm.” I suddenly remembered just the right rectangular object—the Missionary Handbook. Thus it served for twelve weeks.
The night preceding our Christmas leave our thoughts were, as always, on home. The barracks were quiet. Suddenly I became aware that my buddy in the adjoining bunk—a Mormon boy, Leland Merrill—was moaning with pain. I asked, “What’s the matter, Merrill?”
He replied, “I’m sick. I’m really sick.”
I advised him to go to the base dispensary, but he answered knowingly that such a course would prevent him from being home for Christmas.
The hours lengthened; his groans grew louder. Then, in desperation, he whispered, “Monson, Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so; whereupon he asked, “Give me a blessing.”
I became very much aware that I had never given a blessing. I had never received such a blessing; I had never witnessed a blessing being given. My prayer to God was a plea for help. The answer came: “Look in the bottom of the sea bag.” Thus, at 2:00 A.M. I emptied on the deck the contents of the bag. I then took to the night-light that hard, rectangular object, the Missionary Handbook, and read how one blesses the sick. With about sixty curious sailors looking on, I proceeded with the blessing. Before I could put away my gear, Leland Merrill was sleeping like a child.
The next morning Merrill smilingly turned to me and said, “Monson, I’m glad you hold the priesthood.” His gladness was only surpassed by my gratitude.

Some memories are unforgettable, remaining ever vivid and heartwarming! One such memory was the mission conference we attended last year at Dresden, DDR (or East Germany). A president of the Church had not visited there since 1936—a span of over forty years. Now, at last, the prayers of the people were to be answered. President Kimball, it was announced, would be present at the mission conference.
Over 1,200 people, Saints and investigators, came from far and near to hear the prophet speak. Some of them traveled several hundred miles. As the hour for the meeting approached it seemed as if there wasn’t room for even one more person. Not to be denied this grand experience, one brother obtained an unwieldy ladder and placed it alongside a window so that he could see and hear President Kimball and be part of the congregation. As I looked at him, he smiled, and I understood the message of that smile. He was thrilled and grateful to be present, even though he was poised precariously on the top rung of that fifteen-foot ladder throughout the two-hour session.
There was scarcely a dry eye in that packed audience as President Kimball spoke. He not only blessed and inspired the large congregation, and the brother on the stepladder, but also a sister in a wheelchair, as well. Sister Margarete Hellmann had suffered an ailment of the hip since youth. As the years came and went, the affliction brought her an ever-increasing burden of pain. Finally, she could walk only with the aid of a pair of crutches. To facilitate her travel from place to place, and to alleviate the terrible pain she keenly felt with every single step, some of the Saints contributed money and bought her a wheelchair. But this relief was short-lived. Soon, even sitting in her wheelchair was accompanied by almost unbearable pain. Then an inflammation of the nerves on the left side of her face further intensified her suffering. One day she heard the heartening news: the prophet of the Lord was to be in Dresden. She had one all-consuming desire—to attend the conference and touch the prophet.
She had faith and the absolute conviction that the prophet would not even have to take the time to lay his hands upon her head and give her a blessing. She felt assured that it would be with her as it was with a certain woman who, according to St. Mark, had suffered for twelve years and still grew worse. And “when she had heard of Jesus, … she said, If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.” This she did, and Jesus “said unto her, Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace.” (See Mark 5:25–34.)
Sister Hellmann had asked her grandson, Frank, to bring her to the service at an early hour and position her wheelchair near the aisle where the prophet was to pass. This statement from her letter tells the rest of the story in her tender words: “When our prophet came close to me,” she wrote, “he warmly shook my hand and looked at me in the spirit of love, as did those who were with him. After that, I did not feel any more pain—not then, nor any to this day. That is the greatest testimony of my life!”
After the benediction on that memorable day, as we moved through the crowd, the congregation sang, with great fervor, that beautiful hymn, “Auf Wiedersehen.” It was an unforgettable experience and a powerful testimony of faith and the power of God.
Brethren, my fervent hope is for every one of us to be as willing as the man on the ladder to inconvenience ourselves for the sake of the gospel. And I would pray that each one of us could develop a faith as strong as that of the sister in the wheelchair.
It is my testimony that the best way in all the world for us to do this is to serve the Lord and be sure we honor our priesthood. We honor our priesthood by making an intrinsic part of our every thought and action those great teachings that Jesus proclaimed during his glorious ministry on earth and that are still proclaimed today through latter-day revelation. We honor our priesthood through prayer, pure thoughts, clean language, wholesome appearance, service to others, and through striving for the powerful, personal conversion that will help us to withstand the temptations of the day. In addition to being shining examples in our individual lives, let’s make sure that we strengthen our homes and families and, at the same time, do all we can to reach out with understanding to encourage and bring blessings into the lives of the single adults of our church.
There is much we can do to strengthen home and family. Among the most important is to inspire our wives and daughters to take advantage of Relief Society. I am sorry to relate that many of our women are not receiving these blessings. If, through your efforts, you can improve this commitment to Relief Society, your families will be blessed.
This fact was dramatically emphasized in a recent statement made by a law enforcement officer in Idaho. He said that in over twenty years he had never had a child brought in for correction where the mother was an active Relief Society woman.
In working together as husbands, wives, sons, and daughters, we can achieve the true meaning of those most thrilling words spoken by Jesus, when he said:
“Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.
“Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.
“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” (Matt. 5:14–16.)
If we live the principles of the gospel, we are the fulfillment of the Savior’s pronouncement: “Ye are the light of the world” (Matt. 5:14). And possessing this light, we can shine among our fellowmen through our lives and deeds, influencing them to glorify our Father in Heaven.
Jesus wants every one of us to know him because of the transforming power of that knowledge and because of the indescribable joy it brings into our lives. But the influence of the gospel is to extend beyond each individual. It is to be as a light that dispels the darkness from the lives of those around us. No one of us is saved solely and simply for himself alone, just as no lamp is lighted merely for its own benefit.
Today there are far too many so-called Christian leaders who are divided over the most fundamental of all Christian doctrines, one about which no faithful member of our church in all the world has the slightest doubt. This schism is dramatically set forth in a recent issue of Time magazine and is entitled “New Debate Over Jesus’ Divinity.” Many modern scholars express the view that “Jesus did not proclaim himself as the eternal Son of God, nor did the early Christians.” Seven university theologians in England published a book contending that Jesus was not really God at all. In America much of the same is going on. An eminent clergyman expressed the conviction of many “that Jesus never claimed to be God, nor to be related to him as son.” In summarizing, Time said that “in view of the new Christology (of the so-called Christian advocates) Christ is not as divine as he used to be.” (Time, 27 Feb. 1978.)
Such a twisted and compromising viewpoint sounds a clarion call for the priesthood and the sisters, pillars of the Church whose example “is like unto leaven” (Matt. 13:33), to make an even greater effort to move in and fill the tragic void. On the divinity of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the position of the restored church and its members is eloquently stated by Elder James E. Talmage in these words:
“The solemn testimonies of millions dead and of millions living unite in proclaiming Him as divine, the Son of the Living God, the Redeemer and Savior of the human race, the Eternal Judge of the souls of men, the Chosen and Anointed of the Father—in short, the Christ.” (Jesus the Christ, 3rd ed., Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1916, pp. 1–2.)
Our church does not and will not in any way compromise its position! It never at any time or place falters, hesitates, or shows any reluctance to bear unwavering testimony to the divinity of Jesus Christ. The state of the world being what it is, each priesthood bearer must take advantage of every opportunity to testify of the Savior and teach and exemplify gospel truth, letting his light so shine before friends and strangers alike to perpetuate the truth concerning our Savior, Jesus Christ.
In closing I bear deep and solemn testimony of my absolute conviction of the Savior as expressed in these words from a simple and beautiful poem by Elder Bruce R. McConkie, entitled “I Believe in Christ.”
I believe in Christ—my Lord, my God—
My feet he plants on gospel sod;
I’ll worship him with all my might;
He is the source of truth and light.
I believe in Christ; so come what may,
With him I’ll stand in that great day
When on this earth he comes again,
To rule among the sons of men.
(“The Testimony of Jesus,” Ensign, July 1972, p. 109.)
I testify to you that President Kimball is indeed a mighty prophet of the Lord. His divinely inspired words and example convey the certainty of an unwavering testimony. Upon us he pronounces rich blessings and unbounded love and encouragement. May we follow his great leadership, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.