Gospel Story Finder

But in the days that followed, both of us felt unsettled—not about marrying each other but about the ring. Let me explain.
In the weeks leading up to our engagement, Shelley and I had spent significant time talking about how we wanted to raise our family and what we wanted our marriage to be like. One of the things at the center of that discussion was our determination to always follow the prophet.
Two months before we were engaged, we listened to lots of talks at the October 1976 general conference reinforcing the principles of self-reliance. This was a topic that President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) and others had been consistently teaching for several years. Both Shelley and I had grown up knowing the importance of growing a garden, having a supply of food, and being generally prepared. But in that general conference, the theme of preparation seemed especially prevalent. Some speakers made reference to the Teton Dam flood that had occurred in June. Among them was Barbara B. Smith (1922–2010), the Relief Society general president, who emphasized the importance of self-reliance—specifically, acquiring a year’s supply of food, as was counseled at the time.1 President Kimball, in the closing session of the conference, reminded Latter-day Saints of the scripture in Luke 6:46, where the Savior says, “Why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?” President Kimball then exhorted the Saints to let the messages of conference follow them into their “homes and … future lives.”2
After our engagement, as Shelley and I contemplated the beginning of our marriage and family life, these messages were ringing in our ears. Unbeknownst to each other, both of us were thinking about how to start home storage for our family. To obey the counsel of that time, we needed to start acquiring a year’s supply of food. But how were we supposed to do it? We were students—and would be for years to come—and didn’t have a lot of money. The Holy Ghost gave both of us, separately, the same answer: we needed to sell the engagement ring.
But how was I supposed to ask Shelley to do that? I had just given her the ring. What would she think about my asking her to sell it so we could buy some oats and flour and rice? Meanwhile, she was worrying too. What would I think, she wondered, if she were to approach me about selling the ring I had picked out for her? Would it hurt my feelings?
But the prompting each of us had felt was too strong to ignore, and the more each of us thought about it, the more glaring that diamond ring became. When Shelley raised the subject a few days after Christmas, I was relieved that she had arrived at the same conclusion I had. In many ways, it was a tremendous confirmation to both of us about the choice of whom we were going to marry. To know that our priorities and values were in sync with the other’s and with the prophet of God was tremendously reassuring. I was so grateful for her willingness to make such a sacrifice to follow the prophet.
Please don’t misunderstand me and please don’t sell your rings! Buying or wearing an engagement ring isn’t wrong. In fact, our married children all have lovely and appropriate rings. There are many ways we can follow the prophets and apostles and apply their counsel to our personal lives. But because the Spirit had directed us to follow the prophet by selling our engagement ring, in our case the choice was between keeping the ring and following the prophet. This helped us establish two patterns in our home from the very beginning: following the prophet and following the personal, spiritual promptings we received.

When the elders visited our home for the second lesson, we immediately asked them if we could be baptized. They looked at each other and started to cry with happiness, knowing that we had received an answer directly from God. Two weeks later we both got baptized. What a wonderful blessing that a co-worker and his wife opened their mouth to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and helped us to find the Church of God on earth. They also personally taught us about the temple and were present for our sealing day one year later in the Dominican Republic, Santo Domingo Temple. Preaching the gospel is everyone’s duty. The Lord said, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:19).

Sister Paula Thomas of Sandy, Utah, discovered for herself that Heavenly Father does indeed speak to His children. She remembers:
“I was raised in a less-active home. Because of the influence of friends, I began attending Primary. When I was nine years old, my Primary teacher gave a lesson on personal prayer. I knew that I could pray at mealtimes and in meetings, but I had never thought of praying to Heavenly Father on my own.
“After the teacher dismissed our class, I approached her and asked her to teach me to pray. Kindly, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to write and talk at the same time. ‘You always begin by thanking Heavenly Father for all you have,’ she said, ‘and then you tell Him the desires of your heart. Is there something special you want to ask for, Paula?’
“I knew exactly what I wanted—I wanted to make my mother happy. I did not recall ever seeing her smile or laugh. Life was hard, and Mother cried often. I loved her so much that I would write poems, put on programs for her on Mother’s Day, and buy her gifts with my baby-sitting money. She was always grateful, but I knew her burdens were heavy.
“I left Primary that afternoon with those written instructions from my teacher. That night, when the house was quiet, I knelt at my bed and began my very first personal prayer. I prayed that I would be able to make my mother happy. I offered the same prayer every night for seven years.
“When I was 16, I received my patriarchal blessing from a patriarch whom I had never met. In my blessing he said: ‘Paula, the Lord has heard the prayers of your heart. A time will come in your life when you will be able to return with a deep feeling of love the gifts that have been so graciously given unto you by your mother. You will not only bring your mother happiness, you will give her the gift of joy.’
“As he was giving me the blessing, I received a powerful witness of God’s desire to communicate with us through personal revelation. Heavenly Father had heard my prayers, and He let me know he was aware of me.
“Years later, after my mother’s death, I went through the temple to receive sacred ordinances in her behalf. While there, I received an impression that I had truly given my mother the gift of joy—that day and on many other occasions.”

As a Kenyan teenager, Jastus Suchi Obadiah once vowed to his friends that he would physically harm any white South African he happened to meet. “My friends and I often read in the newspapers about the injustices of apartheid, and we hated white South Africans,” he explains. Fortunately, Jastus forgot his hateful vow before he ever met a South African.
As a young man, Jastus was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by his cousin, a Church member. “I’ll never forget the first missionaries who taught me; one was a black African, and one was a white elder from the United States,” says Jastus. As Jastus observed these two young men working together in harmony, “I learned there were many good people no matter what their color.
“As they taught me, the principle of love came into my heart. I realized that to be like God, you really must be loving. My sense of love grew—even for my enemies.” Two years after his baptism, Jastus was himself a missionary, serving in the Kenya Nairobi Mission.
Jastus and his senior companion seemed to work particularly well together; they shared a strong mutual respect and quickly became the best of friends. One day, as Jastus was looking into the white face of his South African companion, the long-forgotten vow made in his teens came rushing back to him. “It really affected my heart when I remembered what I had said. Then I realized how wonderful the gospel is, because it brings people together, no matter who we are or where we come from.
“And I felt how wonderful it is to teach this gospel together with my white companion,” he says. “The gospel changed the course of my life.”

One of the best lessons on choice I learned was from my dad. Whenever the carnival came to town, I was eager for one more ride or one more something. One summer day my dad gave me a silver dollar. He said, “Go buy what you want.” That was a lot of money for me because the rides and refreshments only cost a nickel or fifteen cents back then. I remember going with my friends to the carnival. I priced everything—cotton candy, the rides, the side shows—and I figured out how many of each thing I could get. At the end of the day, I came home with my whole dollar. I had realized that it was my dollar, and it had become more valuable to me because it represented choice. By keeping the dollar, I still had the choice. Once it was gone, the choice was gone.

In a general conference in 1973, President Harold B. Lee told of receiving blessings from an unseen heavenly messenger:
“I was suffering from an ulcer condition that was becoming worse and worse. We had been touring a mission; my wife, Joan, and I were impressed the next morning that we should get home as quickly as possible. …
“On the way across the country, we were sitting in the forward section of the airplane. Some of our Church members were in the next section. As we approached a certain point en route, someone laid his hand upon my head. I looked up; I could see no one. That happened again before we arrived home, again with the same experience. Who it was, by what means or what medium, I may never know, except I knew that I was receiving a blessing that I came a few hours later to know I needed most desperately.
“As soon as we arrived home, my wife very anxiously called the doctor. … He called me to come to the telephone, and he asked me how I was; and I said, ‘Well, I am very tired. I think I will be all right.’ But shortly thereafter, there came massive hemorrhages which, had they occurred while we were in flight, I wouldn’t be alive to be here today talking about it.” (General Conference, April, 1973.)

Joseph Smith himself was a great friend to many. He said, “Friendship is one of the grand fundamental principles of ‘Mormonism’; [it is designed] to revolutionize and civilize the world, and cause wars and contentions to cease and men to become friends and brothers” (History of the Church, 5:517).

And yet, he knew that friendship was more than an abstraction. He learned one day that a brother’s house had been burned by enemies. When Church members said they felt sorry for him, the Prophet took some money from his pocket and said, “I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars. How much do you … feel sorry [for him]?” (in Hyrum L. Andrus and Helen Mae Andrus, comps., They Knew the Prophet [1974], 150).

His help has come to me on countless occasions throughout my life. During the final phases of World War II, I turned 18 and was ordained an elder—one week before I departed for active duty with the 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 which I hold before you tonight. Its title: The Missionary’s Hand Book. I laughed and commented, “I’ll be in the navy—not 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 seabag. He then advised, “If you have a hard, rectangular object you can place in the bottom of the bag, your clothes will stay more firm.” I thought, “Where am I going to find a hard, rectangular object?” Suddenly I remembered just the right rectangular object—The Missionary’s Hand Book. And thus it served for 12 weeks at the bottom of that seabag.
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 member of the Church, Leland Merrill—was moaning in 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. I then suggested he be quiet so that we didn’t awaken the entire barracks.
The hours lengthened; his groans grew louder. Then, in desperation, he whispered, “Monson, aren’t you an elder?” I acknowledged this to be so, whereupon he pleaded, “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 seabag.” 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’s Hand Book, and read how one blesses the sick. With about 120 curious sailors looking on, I proceeded with the blessing. Before I could stow 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—gratitude not only for the priesthood but for being worthy to receive the help I required in a time of desperate need and to exercise the power of the priesthood.

Whatever she does, she will do it well because she sticks to a task until it is done right. This quality has pulled her through some tough challenges. Clara was diagnosed with childhood apraxia of speech. This means that although she knew what she wanted to say, the signals became scrambled somehow between her brain and her mouth so she couldn’t speak clearly. Clara has spent countless hours learning how to move her jaw, lips, and tongue to make sounds properly and blend those sounds into words. This has been very hard work, but with her parents’ help, she has practiced relentlessly and continues to do so. She now speaks well, though some words still require a great effort.

The Obedoza family is a great example of this. Brother Obedoza was my branch president when I was a young man. Brother and Sister Obedoza’s greatest desire was to be sealed to their family in the Manila Temple. They lived in General Santos City, 1,000 miles (1,600 km) away from Manila. For the family of nine, making the journey to the temple seemed impossible. But like the merchant man who went and sold all he had to buy one pearl of great price (see Matthew 13:45–46), this couple decided to sell their house to pay for the trip. Sister Obedoza was worried because they would have no home to return to. But Brother Obedoza assured her that the Lord would provide.
They were sealed as a family for time and all eternity in the temple in 1985. In the temple they found joy incomparable—their priceless pearl. And true to Brother Obedoza’s words, the Lord did provide. On their return from Manila, kind acquaintances gave them places to stay, and they eventually acquired their own home. The Lord takes care of those who demonstrate their faith in Him.

When I was presiding over a mission in Central America, we received an elder who had the following beautiful experience, which illustrates the nearness of the Lord and his willingness to help in our moment of need. This elder was a little older than the usual 19-year-old missionary. He was a convert to the Church, had been released from the military service, and had subsequently prepared for a mission. He received his call and entered the Missionary Home in Salt Lake City. While there he said to himself, “Now I had a testimony, but where is it? If I am going to spend my own money on a mission, then I must know if Joseph Smith was, in fact, a true prophet of God.”

That night he knelt in his room and lifted his thoughts to his Father concerning the Prophet Joseph Smith. To his disappointment, he received no confirming experience and proceeded the next day to his meetings. It was the day when a General Authority was to speak to them. Not feeling much interest, he sat at the back, behind the other 305 missionaries who were present. When President N. Eldon Tanner walked in the room, the elder thought to himself, “Well, he looks like any other well-dressed businessman of the day, not necessarily like a prophet.”

As President Tanner began his talk, the elder, still feeling his disappointment, had little desire to pay attention to him. But as the minutes went on, he began to listen more intently. All at once President Tanner requested, “Would all missionaries who are 24 years old please stand up?” Now, how many missionaries of that age do you suppose were present? Just one: this elder. President Tanner asked him to come up to the front, which he reluctantly did.

As he approached President Tanner, he received the testimony he had asked for the night before of the divine calling of the Prophet of God. President Tanner then asked the elder if he would bear his testimony regarding the divine nature of the calling of Joseph the Prophet. He bore his testimony, declaring that he knew that Joseph was divinely called and was in truth a prophet.

Ana’s boots slurped on the slushy sidewalk as she hurried to school, hugging a large papier bag against her coat. Her brown eyes were calm, but inside she was excited. Today her class was filling the Christmas box.
Ahead, waiting for her under the usual tree, were Lem and Kyle. Pulling her coat around the bag, she lowered her eyes and kept walking. Whump! The expected snowball hit her arm. Splat! Another exploded on her shoulder.
“Tell the teacher,” Lem taunted.
Kyle threw another snowball, brushing her long dark hair and just missing her ear.
They knew she wouldn’t tell. She hardly ever talked at school—she could never seem to find the right thing to say. This new school was so much bigger than her last school, and she missed her old friends. It was still hard just to answer the teacher’s questions in the classroom. A few snowballs wouldn’t make her talk now.
Entering the school yard, Ana opened the sack and took a last peek at her gift for the box. It was beautiful! She smiled, knowing how wonderful it would make someone feel. When her family had moved the first time, someone had left a Christmas box on their doorstep. In it were oranges, a ham, hot chocolate mix, chewy caramels, and soft, white mountains of divinity, which melted into nothing on the tongue. Six homemade Christmas socks, one for each family member, were filled with surprises. And now she could share the same thrill with someone else.
Standing at the classroom door, Ana watched Mrs. Manning set a large, brightly wrapped box on a desk at the front of the room. Entering eagerly, Ana hung up her coat and pulled off her boots. She was sitting on a footstool, tying her tennis shoes, when Mrs. Manning said, “Everyone who has gifts for the box can bring them up now.”
Ana turned to watch as the others carried up their gifts. Elizabeth had a can of tuna; Marc, two cans of chicken noodle soup. Lorene brought a puzzle she had received on her birthday. “Only one piece is missing,” she said. Jean had some candy canes; Eric, a box of stuffing; and Neil, an obviously used stuffed animal. Most of the kids hadn’t brought anything. Ana’s eyes lost their sparkle.
Then Lem and Kyle went to the front of the class. Lem was flexing his arm muscles. “Look what we got for the basket!” Kyle shouted, commanding everyone’s attention. Opening his backpack, he unloaded a number of cans onto the desk. He barked like a circus announcer: “Spinach, lima beans, brussel sprouts, rutabagas, and parsnips. We cleaned out the cupboards of all the vegetables we can’t stand!
Ana tried to imagine a family finding this box on their porch. She could picture the children pulling out can after can of vegetables and later putting the puzzle together to find a piece missing. It was wrong!
She jerked her shoelace and tied it too tight. She had spent a whole Saturday and four afternoons carefully layering paper mâché, paint, and finally crepe paper. They’ve never had a Christmas box, she decided.
“Ana, do you have something for the box in your bag?” Mrs. Manning asked.
Ana nodded and carried it up to the desk. Twenty-seven curious faces turned to see what she had brought. They were quiet as she gently tugged a star-shaped piñata from the bag. Then everyone was wowing and oohing and talking to each other.
“It’s beautiful, Ana!” Mrs. Manning exclaimed. Ana had thought that she would feel proud and happy when the class saw her piñata. She didn’t. Instead, warm tears slid down her cheeks. She hadn’t cried when they moved here, even though it was her third new school in two years. She hadn’t cried when the boys teased her or even when she decided not to try to be friendly with her classmates anymore. But now the tears came.
Words came, too. She tried to push them back, but they were too strong. “I made it,” she said clearly.
The class was instantly silent.
“After our family moved the first time, we were very sad when Christmas came. Then a box—a Christmas box—was left at our house. The note said, ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Home, from your secret friend.’ We were so happy—we wanted to shout ‘Thank you’ to the night.”
Mrs. Manning hugged Ana close, and everyone started clapping.
Ana brushed the tear tracks away and placed her piñata in the box with the vegetables.
Lorene raised her hand. “Mrs. Manning, could I take the puzzle home and bring something else tomorrow?”
“Me, too,” Marc said. “I think I can do better.” A half dozen voices joined in, and heads nodded agreement.
“OK, class,” Mrs. Manning said. “We’ll keep the box here for another day. Anyway, I wanted to bake some cookies for it and didn’t get them done.”
Ana wore her boots home and carried her tennis shoes in the brown sack, even though the sun had dried the sidewalk and reduced snowmen to crusty mounds. Lem and Kyle were waiting as she, Jean, and Lorene passed the tree. The boys scraped some snow from under bushes to throw at them, but the girls were laughing and talking so fast they hardly even noticed. Ana was explaining how to make a piñata.

Later, while I was serving in the military, I was sent to a regiment (a military unit) near the Andes Mountains. When I received my assignment, I felt that the Lord had something special for me to do there. I prayed a lot, asking, “What is my purpose here?”
After I had been there three months, our officer said, “I want to organize a club for the soldiers.” He wanted a place for us to read, listen to music, play games, write letters, and rest. The Holy Ghost helped me know that this was what the Lord wanted me to do. I was asked to be the club president. Getting the club ready was a lot of work. We painted and furnished a building to meet in.
At the club’s opening ceremony, I was asked to talk in front of the officers and soldiers. I had the opportunity to share my testimony of the gospel and my feelings about the Church with many of the soldiers who did not live the standards of the gospel. They all knew I was a “Mormon boy” who lived my standards. I didn’t do the things they did, but they respected me. The officers respected me too. One of them said to me, “I admire you for your standards.”
Never be afraid to tell people what you believe in and what your standards are. You don’t need to hide who you are. I know the Lord will bless you when you are courageous enough to follow Him.

An attitude of faith can convert a doubter to a doer. When Joseph Smith approached the doubting John E. Page with a call to fill a mission to Canada, Brother Page replied, “I cannot go on a mission to Canada, Brother Joseph. I haven’t even a coat to wear.”
The Prophet removed his own coat, handed it to him, and said, “Here, wear this and the Lord will bless you.”
John E. Page had faith in the Prophet’s promise. He labored two years in Canada, walked 5,000 miles, and baptized 600 souls.

Shortly after I started our family blog, I found myself spending all of my free time updating it and thinking about how to make it more creative or appealing. I spent a great deal of time reading others’ blogs too.
Within a few weeks, blogging had taken priority over my daily scripture study and other reading. I couldn’t concentrate while studying, I didn’t want to read as much, and I felt a lack of the Spirit in my life. I had less patience with my children, and the time I should have been spending with them, I was spending on the computer.
It wasn’t that blogging was inappropriate; after all, it is a great way to stay in touch with family and friends. But since I could feel my focus shift away from things that would give me a strong spiritual foundation, I knew something needed to change.
I started by admitting to myself that I didn’t need to blog every day and that I didn’t need to check other people’s blogs daily either. I decided I could still spend free time on the computer but only after I had finished my scripture study and other reading. By the time I got the most important things done, there usually wasn’t much time for blogging, but that was OK. I had reclaimed a lot of time—time that I was now spending caring for and playing with my children, reading, and studying.
After just a few days of adjusted priorities, I noticed that I was feeling the Spirit more abundantly in my life again.

Susanna can still remember the good feelings she had when she was baptized. A week before her baptism she had a dream she remembers very clearly. In the dream she saw a huge mountain in front of her and a path that went straight to the top of the mountain. She saw another path that went sideways up the mountain, but it seemed well lit. She chose the sideways path and soon found herself in deep darkness. She had a sad feeling and turned around.

“Sometimes we choose the wrong path,” she says, “but we can always turn around and find the way to Heavenly Father.” Susanna is courageous enough to always find her way!

A few months before my baptism, I went to the baptism of two of my friends. Both of them sang a song during their baptism service. When we got home, my mom suggested I write down my feelings about being baptized, since I write a lot of songs. I went into my room and wrote down a few thoughts. My mom said what I had written was very special, and that we should have my grandma put my words to music. So we did. A few months later, at my own baptism I sang the song I had written. I was really nervous, but I felt the Spirit help me. I’m really glad to have my very own baptism song!

Imagine this scene: The date was going perfectly. He knew this was the night to declare his feelings.
“I love you!” he blurted out to the woman of his dreams. “I love you … from the bottom of my temporal lobe!”
Unless the woman was a med student, this statement would probably fall short of the intended effect. The thing is, though, he’s spot on for accuracy, because the brain is the organ that processes emotions.

In early 1991 I was involved in a car accident that left most of my body paralyzed. Since then, I have had a lot of time to compare my life before that incident with my life now. In some ways it is similar. Yet there are numerous differences.
Before my accident I had the attitude that I should try to perfect the four basic aspects of my life. Ranked in order of importance at that time, they were (1) physical ability, (2) mental ability, (3) spirituality, and (4) emotional stability.
Now the order of importance of these four vital cornerstones of my life has changed.
Before the accident, my perspective was that of an 18-year-old athlete who thought he knew everything. Although I grew up in a religious family and felt good about my beliefs, spirituality was not my top priority. Instead, physical strength, speed, and quickness were more important to me than either religion or school. I felt that going to school was a necessity simply to remain eligible for sports.
Although I did fairly well academically, I often found myself practicing for the football team or the baseball team rather than studying for a test or completing a class assignment. I had academic goals and important religious goals, but these came after my athletic aspirations. The experiences I’ve had as a result of the accident have helped me better understand what is really important.
Since 16 February 1991, the day I fell asleep driving my truck, I have had the opportunity to look at life from a completely different viewpoint. I have had a lot of time to think about and adjust my priorities. I still love athletics and believe they have the potential to build character. But they are not the most important thing in my life anymore. I recognize now that my religion, my family, and my friends are the foundation for my happiness, not winning at sports.
My mind is the most precious asset I have, and I realize that it must be exercised even as my legs or my lungs were exercised in athletics. I am grateful for the opportunity I have to attend college and gain knowledge. While I have slowed down physically, I have accelerated spiritually and mentally.
Realizing that obtaining knowledge and increasing spirituality are ongoing processes, I believe that my new priorities are helping me achieve those elusive goals.
Not many people have the chance to live life from two very different points of view. I am grateful I have had this opportunity. It has helped me place my spirituality, mental capacity, emotional stability, and physical ability in order of their importance.

Come on, Son. It’s time to go to the bishop’s office for your interview,” Dad called.
Randy didn’t move. He just lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing he knew how to tell his parents that he didn’t want to be baptized.
A few minutes later Dad knocked on the door, then stepped inside the room. Randy rolled onto his stomach and hid his face in his pillow.
“Aren’t you ready?” Dad asked.
Randy shook his head.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to go,” Randy mumbled into his pillow.
“If you don’t have your interview, you can’t be baptized. Don’t you want to be baptized?”
“No,” said Randy.
Randy felt his mattress sink as Dad sat beside him. “You’re not afraid I’ll hold you under too long, are you?”
Randy shook his head. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Then what are you worried about?” Dad put his hand on Randy’s head and smoothed his hair.
His father’s touch helped Randy feel a little bit better. Maybe Dad would understand, he thought, then said, “You’ll think it’s dumb.”
Dad pulled Randy up to sit by him. “I’ll never think anything that’s worrying you so much is dumb.”
Randy leaned against his father. “Cory and Matt from our ward and some of the other kids in the stake are getting baptized the same day I am. I don’t want to be baptized in the same water after them.”
Dad looked puzzled. “I guess we could arrange to have you baptized first, but why would that make any difference?”
“Well, when you get baptized, your sins are washed away. I don’t want the sins that get washed off the other kids to get washed onto me.” Randy looked to see if Dad was laughing at him, but he was only smiling.
“I understand now, Randy,” Dad said. “But I think I can show you something in the kitchen that will get rid of those worries. I’ll be there in a minute, but I have to make a phone call first, OK?”
“OK.” Randy hurried to the kitchen.
When Dad came in, he set some food colorings and a large fruit bottle half-filled with a clear liquid on the table. Then he took three small glasses out of the cupboard, filled them with water, and set them on the table in front of the bottle.
Randy sat next to him. “What are you going to do?”
“Watch. Let’s say that this large bottle has the power in it that Jesus had in the Garden of Gethsemane when He suffered for our sins. Do you know what happened when He did that?” asked Dad.
“Didn’t Jesus make it so that we wouldn’t have to be punished when we do something wrong?” Randy said.
“Something like that. He paid the price for our sins if we repent of them. To repent means to feel sorry for what we do that’s wrong, to ask the person we’ve hurt and Heavenly Father to forgive us, and to never do that wrong thing again,” said Dad.
“You mean Jesus suffered for everybody in the whole world?” asked Randy.
“Yes.”
“He must have suffered a lot!” Randy said.
“He did. He felt so much pain that blood came out of every pore in His skin. Jesus Christ did that because we are His brothers and sisters and He loves us,” Dad explained.
Dad pointed to the three glasses. “Now, let’s say these glasses are you, Matt, and Cory. What color is the water?”
“It’s clear.”
“Right. It’s as clean and spotless as you were when you were born. But neither you nor anyone else who has been born except Jesus Christ has stayed absolutely clean. Let’s say that these food colorings are different kinds of sins. The red might stand for hitting someone. The green could stand for telling a lie. The yellow might stand for selfishness, and the blue for stealing. Now, watch what happens when those sins are committed by a clean person.”
Dad let drops from each of the bottles fall into each glass of water. Randy watched the red coloring spread through the water. Then the green turned the red water into a funny brown color. The other colors made the water darker and uglier.
“What’s happened to the clear water?” Dad asked.
“It’s all dirty looking,” Randy said.
“And that’s exactly what happens every time we do something wrong. We aren’t clean any more. Do you think Heavenly Father would let us live with Him while we’re dirty?”
“No way!” exclaimed Randy. “And if I look like that, I don’t want to live with me, either!”
“There’s a way to get clean again.”
“I know—repentance,” Randy said.
“Right,” Dad said. “Now, remember we’re pretending that the big bottle holds the power to get rid of sin. Suppose Matt is baptized first, then Cory, and then you.” Dad poured the dirty-colored water from each glass into the large bottle, emptying the glass representing Randy last.
Randy watched in amazement as the color disappeared. In a couple of minutes the liquid in the bottle was as clear as it had been before!
Then Dad refilled the three glasses from the bottle. “See? You and Matt and Cory are spotless again.”
“That must be strong stuff in the bottle to get rid of all that food coloring,” Randy said.
“It is. It’s chlorine bleach. But it isn’t nearly as strong as the power Jesus has to cleanse us of our sins when we repent and are baptized—and afterward, every time we repent.”
Randy smiled up at his father. “Do you think the bishop is still in his office? I’d like to have my interview now.”
“When I called him, he said he’d wait for us.”
“Then let’s go!” Randy exclaimed.