Gospel Story Finder

Now it’s Ben Griffiths’s turn, and he shares a story with a different twist.
“I was living in a basement apartment—my own room, my own kitchen, a pretty sweet deal. But I wasn’t surrounded by those people that keep you on the right path. It’s tough and you start feeling like you are alone. You come to a point where you have to decide for yourself what you want to do.
“I wasn’t going to church and I wasn’t paying attention to the things I should have. Then my sister invited me to an institute class she was going to. It was about feasting on the words of Christ. The teacher challenged us to study the Book of Mormon for 30 minutes a day. I would pray and ask the Lord to help me. Then I would read and write down the thoughts that came to me. Then I would thank the Lord for what he had given me.
“Pretty soon, it changed my life. It put everything back in perspective. We’re trying to get to the celestial kingdom. That’s the reason we’re here. All these things happening around us aren’t going to make much difference in the long run. But the gospel gives you a goal in life, a place to point to. I started going to church again. I started doing the things I should have been doing, because I knew they were right.
“College can either be a place where you just play around, or it can be a place where you straighten out your priorities. You have to learn that the things that matter most are the things that will stay with you always, and that’s the gospel and your family. Stay close to them and you’ll be happy.”

“Our next thrilling adventure was one pleasant afternoon as we were slowly jogging along. All at once our whole train was flying in every direction with lightning speed over the plains. I don’t think the fastest horses could have kept up with our cows. Father sat in the front of the wagon talking to and whipping his staid, old oxen to keep them going right along. He was afraid the cows might get mixed up with other teams that were running, or might whirl around and tip the wagon over with us all in it. We went over hump and bump. Sometimes our heads would be thrown up to the top of the wagon bows, there we would alight anywhere it happened inside the wagon. Nobody can appreciate the situation without the experience. Again death was staring me in the face and again I covered my head. If I had to be killed I didn’t want to see the process. Mother soon snatched the covering off my head, and when we came to a stop she gave me a sound lecture to always be on the lookout and watch the best chance for escape.
“Well, after the cattle had run as long as they could they stopped. There were several accidents, and a woman was killed. She was knocked down and trampled to death. She left a family of children. How we all dreaded stampedes—there is something dreadful in a lot of panic-stricken cattle. Even human beings are not responsible when fright overcomes reason.”

Liz: When I was growing up, the closest Church member my age lived an hour and a half away, so there were no other members at school. But something I really appreciated was that even though there was just me, my leaders always came to Mutual; they always came to seminary; they always came to teach my lesson—every single time. They never said, “Well, we’ve got just one student so we’re not going to have class today.” I’m sure I learned a lot, but what I really remember is that my leaders were consistent. And because of them, I had opportunities to feel the Spirit.
I think we can never fully appreciate the gift of the Holy Ghost. Even though I had my parents and my family and my leaders, when I was at school I was by myself. But the Spirit was with me. So whatever keeps the Spirit in someone’s life will be a great influence in helping that person keep the law of chastity.

On the other hand, those who can serve and don’t often have regrets. Take the case of the doctor who said, “In college I told my friends that my mission was to become a doctor. So while my classmates took two years out to serve the Lord, I continued my studies. Now, thirty years later, I have a different perspective on my life. Whereas I was able to relieve the physical suffering of people two years sooner than my friends who went on missions, they relieved the spiritual suffering. My medical relief lasted only a few years, but their spiritual relief will last throughout the eternities. There is no difference now in my medical practice and the practice of my friends who went on missions. I see now that I was short-sighted and selfish.”

“Carson is here today,” James’s mom said, pointing to a boy in the hallway by the Primary room.
James groaned. Carson was wearing jeans and an old shirt. James knew his mom and dad would never let him wear anything like that to church, but they would never let him get away with a lot of the other things Carson did either.
Last week at school, Carson had been kicked out of class for talking back to the teacher. He always made fun of the way James dressed and gave him a hard time for being the shortest boy at school.
“What if he yells at Sister Win or starts a fight?” James asked.
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Mom said. “Carson has never been to church, and he’s probably nervous.”
When class started, Sister Win asked who had brought their scriptures. James raised his hand along with the rest of the class, but Carson shook his head. He looked embarrassed, which surprised James. Carson usually made a joke when he didn’t do his homework. But the more James thought about it, the more he wondered what it would be like to go to a new church for the first time.
Sister Win handed Carson her scriptures to use. When it was Carson’s turn to read a scripture, James began to worry. What if Carson tossed the scriptures on the floor or refused to read?
But Carson didn’t do any of those things. He stared at the words on the page and scowled. After a moment, James realized that Carson couldn’t read very well. James had never noticed this before at school.
What do you think James will do? Will James laugh at Carson? Will he ignore him? What would you do if you were James? Turn the page to find out what happened.
James leaned over to Carson and whispered, “Verily.”
Carson looked surprised, but he said the word and continued reading the verse. When he struggled with a word, James helped him with it. At the end of his turn, Carson looked over at James and gave a small nod.
James wasn’t sure if things were going to be different at school after this. The funny thing was that he didn’t care. He felt good knowing he had helped a boy who always gave him a hard time, and nobody could take that feeling away.

Fifteen years ago I, like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, experienced “a joyful meeting” (Alma 27:16). I had traveled from my home in Argentina to Salt Lake City to attend general conference and to perform temple ordinances there for my deceased relatives. To my surprise, in the corridors of the Salt Lake Temple, I ran into Brother Evans Jones, the missionary who baptized me 40 years before. Despite the passage of time, we joyfully recognized each other.
We had met previously in 1942, when I was 12 years old and living in Córdoba, Argentina. On 5 February of that year, a small group of us gathered at an irrigation canal for my baptismal service. I still remember the feeling I had when I stepped into the water and felt the muddy bottom under my naked feet. I walked carefully, knowing I was doing something very important. My heart beat loudly in my chest as I made sacred promises to the Lord.
Since then, I have been privileged to see the work of the Lord grow in Argentina as thousands have entered the waters of baptism. In those early days, we considered 10 people at church meetings good attendance. Today Argentina is home to 10 missions and 46 stakes, and we are blessed to have a temple in Buenos Aires.
Fifty-two years after my baptism, my assignment as a counselor in the Argentina Córdoba Mission presidency took me back by that canal. I was able to observe that the waters of the old canal are still running, still giving life to the plants growing there—just as my baptism in that water gave a new life to me, my family, and my posterity. Thank you, Elder Jones, and thank you to everyone who shares the precious treasure of the restored gospel.

On a hot July day when Alma Elizabeth was ten years old, she went to a ward meeting. The people felt very discouraged because their crops needed rain. President Brigham Young came to the meeting, and she listened carefully when he rose to his feet and spoke. He promised the people that if they would listen to his words, the Lord would open the heavens and send the rains.
The words hardly left the prophet’s lips when Alma Elizabeth noticed the gathering clouds. Soon they filled the sky, and rain poured down in torrents. On that day she received a great testimony of the gospel that she remembered all her life.

Several weeks after I taught this concept to my Old Testament class at BYU while we were studying the book of Deuteronomy, a young lady shared with me a letter she had written to her parents. The concept of being God's "peculiar treasure" through a covenant of love had had such an impact on her that she felt compelled to write to her parents and express her love to them. Her feelings, I believe, have a relevant message for all of us here today.

"Dear Mom and Dad:
"What a day! I just had a wonderful experience in my Old Testament class. I knew that if I tried to call and tell you about it that I would just be one big blubber puss.

"We just studied Deuteronomy as a covenant of love. Moses is sort of giving his farewell address to the Israelites. As I thought to myself what I would say to these stupid, murmuring, slow-to-remember, quick-to-sin people, Deuteronomy became more like a message of fear rather than a covenant of love. I thought, if I were Moses I wouldn't waste my time reminding them of all that the Lord had done for them. No, I'd remind them of my rage at Sinai . . . I'd scare them into obedience. Well, I thought that would be a good idea. So, why didn't Moses do it? Maybe it had something to do with Moses' connections; maybe he knew something I didn't. Seriously, why did Moses use his last words to remind Israel of the incredible love God had for them. Brother Top, in our class discussion, helped me answer my own question.

"First of all, fear is not a lasting motivation. We read in the scriptures that we are supposed to "fear" God. Well, I was right on top of that one. "Fear means to respect," I thought to myself. Right? Well, sort of. It actually means to revere. It means adoration. It means love and love inevitably leads to obedience, service and righteousness. In fact, it is only through love that these actions are not burdensome. Brother Top gave an example in class of this concept. He told of a husband who cleaned the house and made dinner for his wife who had spent the whole day teaching their daughters how to ski. His point was that the husband didn't do this work begrudgingly. In fact, he was glad to do it, because he loved her so much. You see, it's imperative that the covenant between God and Israel be based on God's perfect love for his children. If we knew how much Heavenly Father really loves us, we would give up our sins and be totally righteous. Now this is the part where I started to bawl.

"I don't think I've voiced this concern at any time in my life, but I've always had this nagging little question as to why I've always been such a goody-goody. I don't mean to say that I've lived a sin-free life, but the fact is that I have passed up a lot of tempting opportunities to mess up. Why have I been such a "good girl?" I remember, even as a little kid, passing up some mischievous little crime with my friends and hearing them honestly say, "No way, I can't do that; my parents would kill me." But I was never afraid of you. Then today in my religion class, the answer came to me. It just overwhelmed me. If I have ever made a truly righteous decision, it has only been because I have wanted to. And I've only wanted to because I love you so much because you loved me first. It's not that I feel obligated to be righteous--I WANT TO BE RIGHTEOUS--to honor you. Even away from you I never want to do anything that would dishonor you. Every aspect of my testimony stems from your love for me.

"Mom and Dad how can I ever thank you enough? I love you so much. Today as we talked about the love Heavenly Father had for the Israelites, I feel like I caught a glimpse for the first time of how much He loves me, because it's like the love you have for me. That love helps me want to do good and be righteous. What an important lesson from Deuteronomy. Look what the Old Testament has done to me--I'm a wailing wreck now. Man, who would have though those Israelites could play such a big part in teaching me one of the most important lessons of my life?"
Wow--what a letter!

About 11 o’clock we drove up to the home of Mons Andersen, and out came Sister Christine Andersen to bid us welcome and put her arms around us one by one and kiss the rest of them. When my turn came, that was something I was not used to, so I didn’t know what to do. For some reason I didn’t run away. A host of neighbor children and aged folks came around us and shook hands with us. I guess they bid us welcome, for I could not understand a word of English. The children were at Sunday School but soon arrived home. They also kissed us welcome, and by that time I was kind of getting used to it. But they surely made us feel at home.

There was another striking thing that helped me on my way toward investigation. It was just when lots of fruit was ripe, such as strawberries, gooseberries, and early apples. Those who have met Sister Andersen know what a loving disposition she had. She said, “Go out and help yourselves.” If it had not been for her loving way, I could barely have thought she meant it. But she surely did. It was something different to what it was in Norway. There was another rung in the ladder.

In World War II, I was in a military hospital in Africa for a few days with a respiratory infection. The hospital was staffed with native orderlies who were to keep the hospital clean, change the beds, and generally be of help to the patients. Because of the prevalence of malaria and its carrier, the mosquito, we slept under large mosquito nets that hung from the ceiling and covered the whole bed. One night as I went to bed, I slipped my wallet under my pillow and drifted off to sleep.
Some time later in the night I was awakened and startled to feel some hands slipping under my bedclothes. I suspected that a thief was after my wallet. I instinctively grabbed one of the hands and switched on the light. My wallet slipped out from under the pillow. To my surprise, I held the arm of the native boy who was the orderly assigned to clean my room. All he said in defense of his action was, “Don’t worry. I am a disciple.” He could tell from the look on my face that I did not understand. In further explanation, he said simply, “I am a disciple. I am a Christian. I do not want your purse. I was only tucking the mosquito netting around your bed to protect you from the mosquitoes while you slept.” I came to know that this young man was not only a Christian, he was a disciple.

My mom and I were reading an encyclopedia about the human body. I was very interested in the pictures of two sets of lungs. One showed the lungs of a healthy person, and the other showed the damaged lungs of a person who smoked. Two days later some men came to our home to replace some carpets. I noticed one of the men smoking outside our home. Several times I heard him cough as he worked. I wanted to show him the picture of the lungs. When he was alone, my mom and I talked to him. I showed him the picture of the damaged lungs, and my mom told him that I was sad that he was smoking. The man smiled at me and said thank you. I felt good inside, and I hope he stops smoking so his lungs can be healthy.

Brandon recalled a touching moment during the technical rehearsal. “The night before the concert, during the FSY Medley, all the lights suddenly went out. But the music and mics kept working, so we kept singing. The audience turned on their phone lights and waved them to the music. It was breathtaking. I teared up as I saw the crowd singing with us. It reminded us that in times of darkness, trust the Lord—He will lead you to the light.” The lights came back on just as they sang the final line: “We will trust in the Lord.”

But today there were no mysteries to solve. Danny sat down next to Dad at the computer desk and played with his magnifying glass.
“Is Detective Danny solving another mystery?” Dad asked, looking up from the computer.
“No,” Danny said. “Nobody lost anything. Nobody is missing. And I can’t find anything suspicious.” (The detectives in Danny’s books said words like suspicious a lot.)
“I have a mystery for you,” Dad said as he clicked the computer mouse.
Danny perked up. Another mystery? He looked at the computer screen, but all he saw were a bunch of names and dates.
“Aw, Dad!” Danny said. “That’s not detective work. That’s just family history.”
“Just family history?” Dad pretended to be shocked. “This is some of the most important detective work you can do! You have to hunt for clues, find missing people, and solve the mystery of where you came from!”
Danny crinkled his nose. He would rather be following footprints with his magnifying glass.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dad said. “I need to make a few calls. Why don’t you look at the family tree while I’m gone? You might be surprised by what you find.”
Danny sighed and sat down at the computer. He found his name. His parents’ names. And his grandparents’ names. Then he clicked an arrow and even more names appeared! The names kept going on and on. Some of his ancestors were from California like him. But some were from countries far away.
Whoa! They lived hundreds of years ago, he thought. I wonder what they were like.
Then Danny saw some blank spots on his family tree. Maybe there was some detective work to be done.
From that day on, Detective Danny was on the case—the Family History Mystery!
He looked for clues in family journals.
He called his grandma and asked her lots of questions.
He searched online and found old records and pictures of his ancestors.
Danny loved helping fill in the blanks on his family tree. Soon he had helped Dad find 12 people who needed temple ordinances.
Dad was really excited when Danny found a record for Herbert Henry Jonte, Danny’s great-great grandfather.
“Your great-grandpa used to talk about his father all the time,” Dad said. “And now I can do his temple work for him. Thanks, Detective Danny! Case closed?”
Danny shook his head and smiled. He wasn’t just solving a mystery. He was helping his family members get closer to Heavenly Father. And he wanted to keep helping.
“Case not closed,” he said. “We have a lot more work to do!”

At the top of a hill, the highway traffic on I-65 rushes right by a grove of trees. Few people even notice the cluster of 30 to 40 headstones nestled in the triangle between the main road and an off-ramp leading toward Vinemont and some other small towns. But the young men of the Cullman Ward, Huntsville Alabama Stake, pay attention to the spot whenever they go by. It’s the site of the Wilhite Cemetery, and without their efforts, including four Eagle Scout projects over the years, the graves of these settlers from the 1820s, and of others in additional cemeteries nearby, could quietly disappear.
Back in Cullman, the young men talk about the value of building a tradition. “We’ve cleaned a lot of the cemeteries up in the hills here,” says Amel Drake, 13. “It started with one Eagle project, and that led to another and another and another.” For example, five miles away in Falkville, members of this same Troop/Team 335 earlier cleaned up a cemetery of about 150 graves, including the resting places of both slaves and prominent citizens. These Scouts have learned to safely operate weed whackers, to properly glue broken headstones together, and to keep a journal of names and locations for people who wish to visit graves or do family history research.
“We don’t just do cemeteries; we do other Eagle projects too,” says Enoch Jones, 15. “And we do lots of community service, to benefit others and ourselves.” He pauses, then adds, “Traditions are a part of our heritage. Building a tradition of service helps us to remember who we are and where we come from. Keeping up the cemeteries is just a part of that.”

Heavenly Father knew that this strong-willed son needed a good father. He picked out a great one for me. My dad’s devotion to his children and grandchildren consumed much of his time. He loved the Lord and was about the Lord’s errand throughout his days. He was not only my dad; he was one of my heroes.
Dad was the president of my priests quorum and bishop of our ward during my teenage years. You who have been a bishop’s son know that sometimes performance expectations tend to be a little high for bishops’ sons.
During Dad’s tenure as bishop, a new meetinghouse was built in our area. Local financial shares were partially fulfilled by providing labor. Often I arrived home to find a note on the kitchen table inviting me to join Dad in working on the new building. These invitations were not always received with great warmth and enthusiasm. It seemed to me that the bishop’s son received more than his fair share of invitations to work on the new meetinghouse.
As the building neared completion, landscaping commenced. The priesthood brethren were extended a work opportunity to haul fertilizer to the site. Because the bishop was a part of the expedition, the bishop’s son felt an obligation to respond. We drove to a mountain sheep corral. Into a large truck we shoveled very finely ground, dry sheep fertilizer. The wind blew much of what we threw into the truck back to us. This unsavory material gathered in our eyes, throats, noses, ears, and down our backs. I can’t ever remember being more uncomfortable. I’m afraid I verbalized my feelings with emotion. When we arrived back at the meetinghouse to unload the material, I found my new bike had been stolen. My complaining was loud. Why would the Lord permit someone to steal my bike when I was about His work?
When Dad and I arrived home, we showered and sat down to an evening meal. My complaining about the day and my lost bike continued. As we knelt in prayer, Dad thanked Heavenly Father for the opportunity of the day’s service and expressed love for me. He asked forgiveness for the person who had taken the bike. He noted his sorrow for the loss but expressed gratitude that it wasn’t his son who had committed the theft. Dads make great heroes. I pray that if you are fortunate enough to have a father close by, he can be your hero. Dads, live in such a way that your sons and others can look up to you as heroes.

There is a much repeated story by Russell Conwell about acres of diamonds:
Ali Hafid, an ancient Persian, owned much land, many productive fields, with orchards, gardens, and money out at interest. He had a lovely family and was content because he was wealthy, and wealthy because he was content.
An old priest came to Ali Hafid and told him that if he had a diamond the size of his thumb, he could purchase a dozen farms like his, and Ali Hafid said, “Will you tell me where I can find diamonds?”
The priest told him, “If you will find a river that runs over white sands, between high mountains, in those white sands, you will always find diamonds.”
“Well,” said Ali Hafid, “I will go.”
So he sold his farm, collected his money that was at interest, left his family in charge of a neighbor, and away he went in search of diamonds, and he traveled through many lands.
The man who purchased Ali Hafid’s farm led his camel out into the garden to drink, and as the animal put his nose into the shallow waters, Ali Hafid’s successor noticed a curious flash of light in the white sands of the stream. Reaching in, he pulled out a black stone, containing a strange eye of light. Not long after, the same old priest came to visit Ali Hafid’s successor and found that in the black stone, containing a strange eye of light, was a diamond. As they rushed out into the garden and stirred up the white sands with their fingers, they came up with many more beautiful, valuable gems. Thus were discovered the diamond mines of Golconda, which were the most valuable diamond mines in the history of the ancient world. So, had Ali Hafid remained at home and dug in his own cellar or anywhere in his own fields rather than traveling in strange lands, he would have had acres of diamonds.

“Mabel became ill a few days before her death. I went to see her. She was very weak but wanted to talk to me. She told me about her daughter, not Enid who lives at the farm now, but Mary, an older daughter who went away to America as a young girl. She married an American out there, and they had a daughter.”
The rector didn’t pause in his story as Lisa looked up in surprise and recognition. “Mabel had never seen that granddaughter. I believe when Mary left, there were some bad feelings. Anyway, over the years, Mabel had come to regret the things she’d said to Mary and wanted more than anything to see her again and meet Mary’s husband and daughter. But she didn’t know how to approach her. Then last year, she received a letter from her granddaughter saying that she and her mother were going to come and see Mabel the next year. Mabel was so pleased. She wanted to apologize face to face. She talked of all the things that she wanted to show her granddaughter. Most of all, she wanted that young lady to know that she loved her.
“I think Mabel knew she was going to leave us when I sat with her that day. She drew me close and made me look into those deep blue eyes of hers. Then she said, ‘Reverend, you promise me that if I’m not here when that young girl comes, you’ll find her and tell her what a fool her Gran was not to tell her that she loved her long ago. You tell her that I kept her baby picture that Mary sent right next to my bed where I could see it every morning and every evening. You tell her to grow up to be as fine a woman as her mother is. But most of all, you ask her to forgive me.’”

Brother Ashton served a full-time mission in the Peru Lima South Mission. His decision to serve was influenced by a good friend who felt prompted to tell him he needed to serve a mission. As his friend expressed his feelings, Brian felt the Spirit’s confirmation. On his mission he was struggling with some significant health challenges when he was called to serve as president of a large branch. During this time, he prayed fervently and continually to Heavenly Father for help. “I learned to rely on Him, and He came through for me,” he said. “Learning to trust Him has made all the difference.”

When I was growing up, I had a special relationship with my grandfather. I was the oldest son in the family. I removed the snow from the walks in the winter and cared for the lawns in the summer for our home, Grandfather’s home, and the homes of my two aunts. Grandfather usually sat on the front porch as I mowed his lawn. When I had finished, I would sit on the front steps and visit with him. Those moments are treasured memories for me.
One day I asked my grandfather how I would know if I was always doing the right thing, given that life presents so many choices. As my grandfather usually did, he answered me with an experience from farm life.
He taught me about breaking in a team of horses so that they would work together. He explained that a team of horses must always know who is in charge. One of the keys to asserting control and directing a horse is a harness and bit. If a member of the team ever believes that it does not need to obey the will of the driver, the team will never pull and work together to maximize their ability.
Now let’s examine the lesson my grandfather taught me using this example. Who is the driver of the team of horses? My grandfather believed it is the Lord. He is the one who has a purpose and a plan. He is also the trainer and builder of the team of horses and, in turn, each individual horse. The driver knows best, and the only way for a horse to know it is always doing the right thing is to be obedient and follow the driver’s lead.
What was my grandfather likening to a harness and bit? I believed then, as I believe now, that my grandfather was teaching me to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. In his mind’s eye, the harness and bit were spiritual. An obedient horse which is part of a well-trained team of horses needs little more than a gentle tug from the driver to do exactly what he wants it to do. This gentle tug is equivalent to the still, small voice with which the Lord speaks to us. Out of respect for our agency, it is never a strong, forceful tug.
Men and women who ignore the gentle promptings of the Spirit will often learn, as the prodigal son learned, through the natural consequences of disobedience and riotous living. It was only after natural consequences humbled the prodigal son that “he came to himself” and heard the whisperings of the Spirit telling him to return to his father’s house (see Luke 15:11–32).
So the lesson my grandfather taught me was always to be ready to receive the gentle tug of the Spirit. He taught me that I would always receive such a prompting if I ever veered off course. And I would never be guilty of more serious wrongdoings if I allowed the Spirit to guide me in my decisions.
As James 3:3 states, “Behold, we put bits in the horses’ mouths, that they may obey us; and we turn about their whole body.”
We must be sensitive to our spiritual bits. Even with the slightest tug from the Master, we must be willing to completely alter our course. To succeed in life, we must teach our spirit and body to work together in obedience to God’s commandments. If we heed the gentle promptings of the Holy Ghost, it can unite our spirits and bodies in a purpose that will guide us back to our eternal home to live with our eternal Father in Heaven.
Our third article of faith teaches us about the importance of obedience: “We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.”
The kind of obedience my grandfather described in his example of a team of horses also requires a special trust—that is, an absolute faith in the driver of the team. The lesson my grandfather taught me, therefore, also alluded to the first principle of the gospel—faith in Jesus Christ.
The Apostle Paul taught, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). Then Paul used the examples of Abel, Enoch, Noah, and Abraham to teach about faith. He dwelled on the story of Abraham, for Abraham is the father of the faithful:
“By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.
“By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country. …
“Through faith also Sara herself received strength to conceive seed, and was delivered of a child when she was past age, because she judged him faithful who had promised” (Hebrews 11:8–9, 11).
We know that through Abraham and Sarah’s son, Isaac, a promise was given to Abraham and Sarah—a promise of posterity “so many as the stars of the sky in multitude, and as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable” (see verse 12; see also Genesis 17:15–16). And then Abraham’s faith was tested in a way that many of us would consider unimaginable.
I have contemplated on many occasions the story of Abraham and Isaac, and I still do not believe I fully comprehend Abraham’s faithfulness and obedience. Perhaps I can imagine him faithfully packing up to leave early one morning, but how did he take all those steps alongside his son Isaac over the three-day journey to the base of Mount Moriah? How did they carry the wood for the fire up the mountain? How did he build the altar? How did he bind Isaac and lay him on the altar? How did he explain to him that he would be the sacrifice? And how did he have the strength to lift the knife to slay his son? Abraham’s faith empowered him to follow God’s lead with exactness up until the miraculous moment when an angel called out from heaven, announcing to Abraham that he had passed his agonizing test. And then the angel of the Lord repeated the promise of the Abrahamic covenant.
I recognize that the challenges associated with having faith in Jesus Christ and obedience will be more difficult for some than others. I have had enough years of experience to know that the personalities of horses can be very different and, therefore, some horses can be easier or more difficult to train and that the variety of people is far greater. Each of us is a son or daughter of God, and we have a unique premortal and mortal story. Accordingly, there are very few one-size-fits-all solutions. And so I fully recognize the trial-and-error nature of life and, most importantly, the constant need of the second principle of the gospel, even repentance.
It is also true that the time during which my grandfather lived was a simpler time, especially regarding the choices between right and wrong. While some very intelligent and insightful people might believe our more complex time demands ever more complex solutions, I am far from convinced they are right. Rather, I am of the frame of mind that today’s complexity demands greater simplicity, like the answer my grandfather gave to my sincere question about how to know the difference between right and wrong. I know what I have to offer today is a simple formula, but I can testify about how well it works for me. I recommend it to you and even challenge you to experiment upon my words, and if you do, I promise that they will lead you to clarity of choice when you are bombarded with choices and that they will lead to simple answers to questions that confuse the learned and those who think they are wise.
Too often we think of obedience as the passive and thoughtless following of the orders or dictates of a higher authority. Actually, at its best, obedience is an emblem of our faith in the wisdom and power of the highest authority, even God. When Abraham demonstrated his unwavering faithfulness and obedience to God, even when commanded to sacrifice his son, God rescued him. Similarly, when we demonstrate our faithfulness through obedience, God will ultimately rescue us.
Those who rely solely on themselves and follow only their own desires and self-inclinations are so limited when compared to those who follow God and tap into His insight, power, and gifts. It has been said that someone who is all wrapped up in himself or herself makes a very small package. Strong, proactive obedience is anything but weak or passive. It is the means by which we declare our faith in God and qualify ourselves to receive the powers of heaven. Obedience is a choice. It is a choice between our own limited knowledge and power and God’s unlimited wisdom and omnipotence. According to the lesson my grandfather gave to me, it is a choice to sense the spiritual bit in our mouths and follow the driver’s lead.
May we become heirs to the covenant and the seed of Abraham through our faithfulness and by receiving the ordinances of the restored gospel. I promise you that the blessings of eternal life are available to everyone who is faithful and obedient. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Recently I met a young medical doctor who was completing his medical training as an intern in a hospital. He told us of himself as he bore his testimony in a stake conference. He said that as a young athlete he had set his sights very high. At only thirteen years of age he had started swimming competitively, and during his teen years he spent thirty to forty hours a week training during the summer and twenty to thirty hours a week in the winter. He told us that his desire to become a champion swimmer was so great that he would have done anything to accomplish it. His grades were not what they should have been, and the coach cautioned him; whereon he applied himself and brought them to a satisfactory level. During this period of time he excluded himself from Church activity because, in his words, “Swimming would improve my self-image and give me confidence and the Church would not.”
He went on to become a national AAU champion, winner of a bronze medal in the 1968 Olympics, and an All-American in college for three years. Again in his words:
I did well in college and was able to go to medical school. I would tell myself, “You are an Olympian; you have a good mind; you will become a doctor and have ‘the good life.’” I would tell myself this as I was contemplating suicide. I was full of false and vain pride.
In medical school I dealt with an indigent population. The people were completely different from me; they frustrated me terribly. I dealt with these frustrations first by hating the people, then by pitying them. As a medical student I frequently thought of taking my own life.
A country doctor in southeastern Ohio, with whom I lived for six weeks, talked to me about my family, about returning to my religious heritage and honoring my mother and father. He asked that sometime before I left we pray together. We did, and we started reading the Bible together.
I went back to Cincinnati, feeling very sure I could understand any work of literature, and started reading the Bible by myself. I was halfway through Genesis and was learning very little when I said to myself, “There must be chapters written in a way that will be easier to understand.” I then turned to Numbers and found that I understood even less. I stopped reading and started praying.
He then went on to tell that he fell in love with a lovely young woman, and they were married. This improved the way he felt about himself and gave him time to think about a future family and how to maintain a good family life. Again in his own words: “I knew that the Church helped tremendously in keeping family ties close. I didn’t really want to have to spend the time required to be a good Latter-day Saint. I was hoping to find another church whose gospel was easier to live and didn’t ask so much.”
He further stated that as they were driving west to take up residence, they were discussing the subject of raising their children; and his wife, though not a member of the Church suggested that the children be raised in the Mormon Church. He had hoped that she would wait for a while, as he was going to start his internship and knew he would be extremely busy.
By chance they moved next door to an active Latter-day Saint family—and, I might say, they were in a non-LDS community. He then explained,
The first question they asked us was if we would like to go to church with them on Sunday. Not being able to think of a good excuse, we went. Through this experience my testimony started to grow, first by studying and praying and listening to the testimonies of our stake missionaries. But the fastest growth in my testimony came from the opportunities I had to serve other people.
About six months ago, he was ordained an elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood, and he told of an experience that happened shortly after his ordination. His elders quorum president called him at 5:30 a.m., just before he was to begin a thirty-six-hour call day at the hospital, and asked him if he would please go over to the hospital early to give a blessing to a women who was about to give birth to a child. His first reaction was, “Why me? I’ll lose an hour and a half of sleep.” But he got up and dressed. Realizing that he was not in the proper frame of mind to give a blessing, he knelt and prayed, searching for the proper spirit. Then he said that as he walked to the hospital “the sun was just coming up on a beautiful new day. When I got to the bedside I saw a beautiful mother about to give birth to a beautiful spirit. After the blessing I thanked the Lord for preparing me.”
Do you recognize the miraculous transformation that had taken place in this young man’s life? He had finally achieved a relationship with the Savior. His priorities and values had changed so as to turn his life completely around.