Gospel Story Finder

Sami was almost home. His mother had asked him to take some bread and cheese to his brothers, who were tending the sheep. It was a beautiful day, and Sami could see the tall date and coconut palms of El Shabar, one of the largest oases on the caravan route. It stretched for miles on the edge of the horizon, from the sand dunes to the west back toward the east like a black carpet.
There were no roads to his village, and Sami could walk where he pleased. Today as he walked, he tried to step on the stomach of the shadow moving ever out of reach in front of him. He looked up as he neared the small village.
The sun was already hot, and it was only midmorning. The dozen or so white clay homes reflected the glaring sun. A couple of dogs lazily scratched at fleas and moved with the shade to stay as cool as possible. And old Bashir’s camel was chewing and spitting under the trees. Why, that camel is almost as lazy as old Bashir! Sami thought, amused at the animal’s behavior.
The cluster of palms in the middle of the homes marked the well, and Sami could see some women bending over the square wash area, beating and wringing their wash. He could hear the women at the well talking and laughing as they drew water. Mother will be there now, he thought, and he listened for her familiar voice.
Sami turned toward his home, still listening for his mother’s voice. He hadn’t seen her at the well; maybe she was already home. She had promised to fix a lamb stew today in celebration of Sami’s birth. He was almost a man now—nine years old! Father had made him new sandals, and they were the softest and sturdiest of anyone’s. His brothers had given him his very own lamb to raise. A “seed,” they called it, for his own flock one day. Oh how he loved that lamb!
When Sami stepped inside his house, he saw that his mother wasn’t there. Where can she be? he wondered. Before leaving to look for her, Sami took a piece of bread to satisfy his hunger.
Outside again, he heard the distant ting-a-ling of caravan bells. As he looked toward El Shabar, Sami could see dust clouds rising up. There must be a million camels, he thought. What a wonderful thing to happen on my birthday! Someday I’ll join a caravan and go to Cairo, Philippi, Caesarea, and even across the Mediterranean Sea to Rome and Greece. I really will do it someday.
Sami hurried toward the caravan, hoping he’d find his mother there, trading for herbs and spices—after all it was to be a special lamb stew today. He also wanted to see the caravan for himself. His brothers had told him that a caravan’s camels had the finest of harnesses with silver and gold bells and brightly colored blankets. And his brothers had described all sorts of people, speaking all sorts of languages and carrying all sorts of wonderful things on caravans.
Sami was running in his haste to reach the caravan, when he saw his mother approaching. She was carrying a bundle in her arms and another one on her head.
“Mother,” he called, waving to her and running all the faster. “Mother, what did you get?”
His mother only smiled as she handed him a bundle to carry for her. “But don’t peek inside,” she told him.
Sami wanted to unwrap just a corner to see what was inside, but he made himself obey his mother instead. She was describing the caravan and where it had been and the people and things she had seen.
At home Mother took the bundle off her head and set it by the fire. She hung up the herbs and put the spices in pots. Finally she gestured toward the bundle Sami had carried. “Now you may unwrap it, Sami,” she said. “It’s for you.”
Sami’s fingers fumbled with the coarse cloth wrapped about the package. Then—“Oh, Mother, it’s beautiful!” Sami exclaimed as he held up a box. The box was made of sandalwood and inlaid with stars and beautiful, intricate designs. And it had a latch! When Sami lifted the lid, it smelled sweet inside. It was a magnificent box. And it was his!
In the middle of his joy, Sami suddenly sat down and looked from the box to his mother.
“What is it? Is something wrong with your gift?” Mother asked.
“No, Mother, but what shall I do with it? It is a very fine gift, indeed, but it can’t feed us or help us with our work. Father says that we should judge all things by that.”
Mother smiled. “Your father is right, Sami,” she agreed. “I’m glad that you remember his counsel. But remember, too, that there are times when we need to be alone with our thoughts and our memories. Most people store theirs in their hearts. But you’re a dreamer, Sami. You appreciate both our ancient, yet precious, customs and our glorious possibilities. And just as families, villages, and nations need dreamers to preserve the best from their past and lead them to great accomplishments in their future, dreamers need things that they can hold on to, to keep their dreams from fading. This box is to hold some of those things.”
Later that night Sami lay on his bed and thought of what a wonderful birthday it had been. The sandals, the lamb, and the stew were truly gifts of the heart from his family. But the box! The first thing in the morning Sami would start filling his box. He would put his old sandals into it to always remind him of the talents of his people. And he would put into the beautiful box a small tuft of wool from his new lamb as a symbol of his first step toward a future caravan.
It’s been a wonderful day, Sami thought as he drifted off to sleep, and tomorrow will be even better.

“What’s this?” Sam asked Mom, poking the pile of clothes on the kitchen chair.
“Sister Fernandez brought them over for you,” Mom said. “Why don’t you try them on while I finish making the salad?”
“OK!” Sam grabbed the clothes and headed to his room.
First he tried on a couple of T-shirts, one red and one blue. They fit just fine. So did the church pants, which was a good thing. His own church pants had been looking kind of short lately.
Next Sam tried on some jeans. Jeans were great for playing in, and they had lots of pockets. Sam slipped his hands into the front pockets. His right hand felt a piece of paper, and he took it out to see what it was.
The paper was a dollar bill.
“Oh!” Sam held the dollar in both hands. With a dollar, he could buy a candy bar or a bag of chips or a soda. If Mom took him to the dollar store, he could even buy a toy.
Sam sighed and set the dollar bill on the dresser. It wasn’t his.
Except—Sister Fernandez had given him the clothes, hadn’t she? So in a way, she had given him the dollar. She wouldn’t care, Sam thought. She wouldn’t even remember.
Sam started to leave the room. He tried not to look at the dollar on his dresser, but his eyes went back to the money. He didn’t feel right about keeping it.
Sam picked up the dollar and took it to the kitchen. “The clothes all fit,” he said to Mom. Then he showed her the dollar. “I found this in one of the pockets.”
Mom put down the salad spoon and fork she was holding. “What do you think you should do?”
“I should give it back to Sister Fernandez.”
Mom looked at the clock. “We have time for a quick trip,” she said.
When Sam and his mother got to Sister Fernandez’s house, she welcomed them inside.
“I like the clothes,” Sam said. “But I found this in the pocket of the jeans.” He held out the dollar.
Sister Fernandez looked pleased as she accepted the money. “That reminds me of when I was a girl and found some coins in the couch cushions. When I took them to my mother instead of spending them, she was so proud of me!”
Mom put her arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Just like I’m proud of Sam.”
“Sam, would you do me a favor?” Sister Fernandez asked.
Sam nodded.
“I’d like you to buy a treat for an honest boy I know,” Sister Fernandez said, and she gave the dollar back to Sam.
“Thank you!” Sam said. His heart felt full. He knew it wasn’t because of the dollar in his hand.
That night at dinner, Mom told the rest of the family what had happened.
Sam’s little sister Rachel stopped slurping her soup and said, “So you got a dollar today!”
“You got some new clothes too,” Dad said. “But that’s not all, is it?”
“No,” Sam said. “I got something better. I got to do the right thing.”

I was rebaptized a little over a year after my excommunication. What a relief it was to come up out of the water knowing that Jesus was now my advocate, my partner. He had paid for my sins, and I was again in a covenant relationship with Him. I was filled with gratitude!
I received the gift of the Holy Ghost again. I felt once again a tangible presence: my dear friend was back to stay! I wanted to try so hard not to offend Him again so that He wouldn’t have to leave me.

In a sense, the most important leadership assignment we have is that of leading and motivating ourselves. It was always a thrill to watch missionaries motivate their sometimes reluctant physical and spiritual selves to higher achievement. For instance, while driving through Waynesboro, Virginia, one day with two missionary assistants, I read aloud a sign on the front of an impressive looking high school. “Waynesboro High School, home of the little giants.” It was Elder John Greenland from Tooele, Utah, who made the comment, “That’s kind of a bad program. If I were going to be a giant, I wouldn’t want to be a little one. I’d want to be the biggest, strongest giant that ever was.” He knew the real meaning of the sign, but he was, in a sense, delegating to himself a responsibility and committing himself publicly to strive for perfection. And that is the kind of a missionary he was—a giant on the way to becoming the most dedicated, effective, obedient, hardworking servant of the Lord he could possibly be.

When they were engaged, Sonia Lopreiato Piros and Gabriel Piros of São Paulo, Brazil, talked about the decisions they would have to make when their children were born. But after one year of marriage and the birth of their first child, “everything that was once so simple in theory turned out to be complicated to practice,” Sister Piros says. “We faced the moment of decision, and fear invaded our hearts. My husband was afraid he would not earn enough to provide for our needs, and I was afraid to end my promising career.”
Brother and Sister Piros began reviewing the Eternal Marriage Student Manual (item no. 35311) and attending institute classes together. They felt certain the right decision was the one they had made before they were married—that Sister Piros would set aside her career for now, even though both knew it would not be easy for Brother Piros to provide for the family’s needs.
“We exercised our faith, and as the scripture said, we proved the word of God,” she says (see 2 Ne. 11:3). The couple began to experience many blessings as a result of their sacrifice, including Brother Piros’s professional growth.
“We still face some challenges and fears, but we are certain that God will be there at our side and that He will answer our prayers,” Sister Piros says.

A story is told that during the bombing of a city in World War II, a large statue of Jesus Christ was severely damaged. When the townspeople found the statue among the rubble, they mourned because it had been a symbol of their faith and of God’s presence in their lives.
Experts were able to repair most of the statue, but its hands had been broken so badly that they could not be fixed. The people added on the base of the statue of Jesus Christ a sign with these words: “You are my hands.”

We hear some these days who say that because of economic pressures they cannot afford to pay their tithing. I recall an experience I had as a stake president some years ago. A man whom I knew came to get his temple recommend signed. I questioned him in the usual way and asked, among other things, whether he was paying an honest tithing. He candidly replied that he was not, that he could not afford to because of his many debts. I felt impressed to tell him that he would not pay his debts until he paid his tithing.
He went along for a year or two in his normal way, and then made a decision. He talked about it some time later and he said: “What you told me has proved to be true. I felt I could not pay my tithing because of my debts. I discovered that no matter how hard I tried, somehow I could not manage to reduce my debt. Finally my wife and I sat down together and talked about it and concluded we would try the promise of the Lord. We have done so. And somehow in a way we can’t quite understand, the Lord has blessed us. We have not missed that which we have given to him, and for the first time in many years we are reducing our debt. We have come to the wisdom of budgeting our expenditures and of determining where our funds have been going. Because we now have a higher objective, we are able to curtail some of our appetites and desires. And above all of this, we feel we can now go to the house of the Lord with clear consciences as those deserving of this wonderful blessing.”

The first vignette is Brigham Young’s arrival in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847, as described by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008): “No plow had even broken its soil. [Brigham Young] knew nothing of its fertility, nothing of the seasons, the weather, the frost, the severity of the winters, the possibility of insect plagues. [Early explorers] Jim Bridger and Miles Goodyear had nothing good to say concerning this place. Sam Brannan pleaded with him to go on to California. He listened to none of them. He led his people to this hot and what must have appeared as a very forlorn place. When he arrived, he looked across this broad expanse to the salt lake in the west and said, ‘This is the right place.’”8

Several weeks ago, while en route to Monterrey, Mexico, I sat next to an attractive Mexican of Lamanite extraction. During our conversation I learned that he had eight children. He was obviously proud to be their father. I encouraged him to talk about them. Then I asked, “How long do you plan to be with them?”

“As long as I live.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll lie down and turn to dust.”

From the Bible, we read the words of the Savior to his Apostles just prior to his crucifixion: “In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.” (John 14:2–3.)

I asked him what Jesus meant by that. He pondered the question, and then he was ready to listen. I explained about the spirit world and the Resurrection and asked, “Do you really love your children?” He was emphatic.

“How would you like to be with your wife and children in the next life?”

“There is nothing I would rather have.”

I explained that he could have them. We talked about the Book of Mormon—that it was a history of his progenitors, that it contained the narration of the visit of Jesus Christ to America, and that it was a key to having an eternal family. I had him write his name and address on a card and promised to have a Book of Mormon in Spanish delivered to his home.

When I arrived in Monterrey, I gave the referral to the missionaries. Last week I received a letter reporting on their visit to the family. They wrote: “The following Sunday, after the conference, we went to Roberto’s home. His wife came to the fence, and supposing we were preachers of religion she told us it would not be possible to see her husband, that he was very busy. But after talking and showing the card you gave us, he quickly came out with open arms to greet us. We entered his home and knelt down with the family in prayer. He has eight beautiful children. The Spirit of the Lord was present.

“He gratefully accepted our offer to return to teach them the plan of salvation. He received the Book of Mormon and promised to read the words of the book from cover to cover.”

Sister Tanner: I remember an experience when John was armed with power and holiness after participating in the ordinance of the sacrament. A number of years ago when our family lived in Brazil for a short while, we were in an auto accident. As we drove home from Sacrament meeting in pouring rain, we entered a neighborhood intersection. A car pulled out from behind a parked vehicle and hit us, broadside. Fortunately no one in either of the cars was injured, but the automobiles were both pretty badly dented. As John got out to discuss the accident with the other driver, I kept reminding him that it was not our fault. Soon he returned to the car and slowly drove back to the little farmhouse where we were living, to the sound of metal grinding against the tires on every rotation. The other car followed. All John said was, “I’ll explain later.”

When we got home, John found our little envelope of emergency cash and paid the family to get their car repaired. They happily left. I was astonished. Then John gathered our family together to explain his actions. “You probably think I’m foolish because I know this accident was not our fault. But as I was negotiating with this family, the thought kept coming into my mind that a little over an hour ago I had covenanted with Heavenly Father to always act as Jesus would. I knew that if He were standing in my position, he would have had compassion on this family, who was so poor, and would have done all he could to help them.” That day John hadn’t just taken the sacrament; it had taken hold of him. He came away a holier, better person.

John had had a sacred Sacrament experience, and as Moses says after one of his sacred communications with God, “the Spirit had not altogether withdrawn from me.” It gave him the power to act in holiness.

The missionary journey took great physical courage as well as faith. While jumping onto a ferryboat in New York, Brigham slipped and fell against an iron ring on the deck, severely dislocating his shoulder:
“I directed brothers Kimball and Hedlock to lay hold of my body, and Brother Pratt to take hold of my hand and pull, putting his foot against my side, while I guided the bone with my right hand back to its place. … When I came to a fire I fainted, and was not able to dress myself for several days.27

As a youngster of eighteen, a pretty young model found her dreams shattered by an automobile accident that confined her to a wheelchair with partially paralyzed legs. Because of the accident, she learned to play the piano.
Because of what the accident had done to her budding career, she learned to develop a sense of humor and to find that there is a funny viewpoint to almost any subject. And, in time, her legs regained their strength, and she became an actress gifted with a sense of humor that made her one of the outstanding comediennes of our day. You have seen her in motion pictures but particularly on television, and you have heard her on the radio, and you know that Lucille Ball was not stopped by adversity. On the contrary, it was the plus sign that made her grow in stature.

For generations it has inspired those who read it. Herbert Schreiter had read his German translation of the Book of Mormon. In it he read:
“When ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
Herbert Schreiter tested the promise and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In 1946, released as a prisoner of war, Herbert returned to his wife and three little daughters in Leipzig, Germany. Soon thereafter, he went as a missionary to Bernburg, Germany. Alone, without a companion, he sat cold and hungry in a room, wondering how he should begin.
He thought of what he had to offer the war-devastated people. He printed by hand a placard which read, “Will there be a further life after death?” and posted it on a wall.
About that same time, a family from a small village in Poland came to Bernburg.
Manfred Schütze was four years old. His father had been killed in the war. His mother, with his grandparents, and his mother’s sister, also a widow, and her two little girls, were forced to evacuate their village with only 30 minutes’ notice. They grabbed what they could and headed west. Manfred and his mother pulled and pushed a small cart. At times, the ailing grandfather rode in the cart. One Polish officer looked at the pathetic little Manfred and began to weep.
At the border, soldiers ransacked their belongings and threw their bedding into the river. Manfred and his mother were then separated from the family. His mother wondered if they might have gone to Bernburg, where her grandmother was born, perhaps to relatives there. After weeks of unbelievable suffering, they arrived in Bernburg and found the family.
The seven of them lived together in one small room. But their troubles were not over. The mother of the two little girls died. The grieving grandmother cried out for a preacher, and asked, “Will I see my family again?”
The preacher answered, “My dear lady, there is no such thing as the Resurrection. They who are dead are dead!”
They wrapped the body in a paper bag for burial.
On the way from the grave, the grandfather talked of taking their own lives, as many others had done. Just then they saw the placard that Elder Schreiter had posted on the building—“Is there further life after death?”—with an invitation from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At a meeting, they learned of the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ.
They joined the Church. Soon their lives changed. The grandfather found work as a baker and could provide bread for his family and also for Elder Schreiter, who had given them “the bread of life.”
Then help came from the Church in the United States. Manfred grew up eating grain out of little sacks with a picture of a beehive on them and peaches from California. He wore clothes from the welfare supplies of the Church.
Manfred Schütze is now a member of the Third Quorum of Seventy and supervises our seminaries in Eastern Europe. His mother, now 88, still attends the temple at Freiberg where Herbert Schreiter once served as a counselor to the president.

A true story from Indonesia.
Harvey sat squished in the back of the taxi with Ibu (Mom) and Bapak (Dad). They were on their way to the church for Harvey’s baptism.
“Bapak, how did you feel when you were baptized?” Harvey asked. Bapak got baptized a few months ago. Now that Harvey was eight, he was going to be baptized too!
Bapak thought for a minute. “The water was so cold!” he said with a laugh. “But I also felt a lot of love. Even though most of our family are not members of our church, I felt their love and God’s love.”
When they got to the church building, some other people from church helped them fill the font with water and get ready.
“Harvey, it’s time to change into your baptism clothes,” Ibu said. Harvey nodded and found the bag with his clothes. But only his white pants were in the bag. He couldn’t find his white shirt! He checked the other bags and looked around the church.
“Ibu, my shirt isn’t in here,” Harvey said.
Ibu frowned. She checked a few bags too. “We must have left it in the taxi.”
“We have some extra baptism clothes in the closet,” Sister Putri said. “I’ll go get them.”
But the only baptism clothes from the closet were too big for Harvey. Ibu looked worried. The baptism would start soon. A lot of people were already here, and Harvey didn’t have his shirt.
“Maybe we can say a prayer that the taxi driver will bring the shirt back,” Harvey said. “But if he doesn’t bring it, I can just wear a shirt that’s too big. I don’t care what I wear. I just want to be baptized.”
Ibu and Bapak nodded. Together they went to the kitchen, where it was quiet. Then they folded their arms and bowed their heads.
Harvey said the prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank Thee that I can be baptized today. Please help the taxi driver to bring back my shirt. But if not, that’s OK too.”
After their prayer, Harvey went to change into the shirt that was too large. It reached all the way to his knees.
“Harvey!” Sister Putri called from the hallway. “The taxi driver is here.”
Harvey and Ibu found the taxi driver by the front door. He was holding Harvey’s shirt!
“I looked back and saw it on the seat,” he said. “I thought it might belong to you.”
“Thank you so much,” Ibu said.
Harvey took the shirt from the man. “Thank you.”
The man smiled and waved goodbye.
Soon, it was time for the baptism to start. Harvey changed into his shirt. It fit perfectly! And it was white and clean.
When Harvey walked into the font, the water was freezing! Bapak said the prayer and baptized Harvey. When he came out of the water, he felt fresh and calm inside.
Bapak led Harvey out of the font and wrapped a soft towel around Harvey’s shoulders. Harvey thought about all the people who helped and supported him. Ibu, Bapak, the taxi driver, and his family. And Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ too.
Harvey gave Bapak a hug. “You’re right. The water was cold!” They both laughed. Then Harvey looked into Bapak’s eyes. “But you were right about something else too. I feel a lot of love.”

Before me sat a handsomely graying sixty-year-old man of slight yet dignified physique who had been making important editorial decisions for nearly forty years. Surely I was in the right place for an answer. As a twenty-one-year-old missionary, he had been associate editor of Great Britain’s respected mission publication, the Millennial Star. While walking down a Salt Lake City street after returning home, he decided on the moment to seek employment at KSL radio station. They hired him, and four years later he was named one of America’s best radio announcers.
At twenty-four years of age he began his great career as Tabernacle Choir commentator and author of his own “Spoken Word.” Six years later, the call came to be managing editor of the Improvement Era. Since that time he continued to grow in editorial stature. He authored numerous books, became a world-famous personality, was called at age thirty-two to the First Council of the Seventy and then at age forty-seven to the Council of the Twelve (in both quorums he was their youngest member when appointed). Wherever he went and whatever he did, his name only continued to rise higher and higher. Certainly this man could solve our little problem.
After he finished the letter he was dictating, he turned and said, “Please sit down and tell me what’s come up.” I did, and then as he leaned back in his chair he concurred about the seriousness of the problem. After talking about it for a few minutes, he came around from behind his desk, sat down beside me, and started to ask questions: “What do you think would happen if we did such-and-such?” I would respond, and then he’d ask, “What do you think if we did something else?” And so it went, until half a dozen possible courses were discussed.
Then he stood up and said, “I’m glad you came over because, no fooling, this is a serious matter, and it has some delicate overtones. The Lord bless you in your decision.”
Stunned by his decision to not make a decision, or was it confidence in a new staff member’s ability to handle the matter, I walked in silence to the door, his arm on my shoulder. He opened the door and took my hand to say good-bye and slowly said, “This is a very delicate and serious matter. You’ll make a good decision.”
As I left, thinking about what to do, I couldn’t help but recall the Prophet Joseph Smith’s great statement that he taught correct principles and then left the Saints to govern themselves.
It was so also with Elder Richard L. Evans. For forty-one years he taught the world correct principles through his beloved and widely quoted “Spoken Word.” Many great broadcasting executives and evangelical leaders of several nations have said that Elder Evans addressed the largest pulpit in the world. In fact, a statement issued by the Council of the Twelve at Elder Evans’ death said: “Numerous people, the world over, have happily boasted that ‘Richard Evans is my Church.’”
What kept listeners returning to hear his “message of depth and faith and freshness and inspiration” week after week? It was the correct principles that he so well articulated. He effused his great messages with hope—and confidence, as I discovered. Clothing the principles he discussed was his unmistakable spirit of optimism and conviction that mankind—every one of us—can really make the right decisions if we think seriously enough about what matters most in life. Then, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, Elder Evans left his listeners to govern themselves, to seek out alone the good in life and in religion.
No one need take space to say all the things that Elder Evans stood for—it would probably be an impossible task. Every listener and reader of the “Spoken Word” knows for himself the great themes of Richard L. Evans. Each of us has felt his own spirit move and revel in agreement as he read or heard the beautifully and succinctly phrased sentences. Each of us has sensed the remarkable breadth of this man’s outlook, his depth of understanding, his tolerance of others and their ways of life, his urbanity and cosmopolitanism (a term appropriately chosen by the First Presidency in a statement they issued about Elder Evans), his endless store of common-sense wisdom, and his probing perceptiveness.
But unknown to New Era readers is the great founding role that Elder Evans played in seeing that these same qualities were part of the New Era. About a year and a half ago when the First Presidency decided that there would be three new magazines, Elder Evans chairmaned the youth correlation committee, as one of his many assignments as a member of the Council of the Twelve. So, under the direction of the First Presidency, he was in charge of the new youth magazine.
His immediate concern was for a name. He asked for suggestions, wrote friends for lists of suggested titles, and composed a list himself. But that was not good enough: “The thing we must remember is that if this magazine is for youth then it must carry a name that they will respond to,” he said.
He whittled all proposed names down to about twenty-five and asked that a survey be taken at several large youth conferences. Their selection pleased him greatly—the New Era—because coincidentally, the First Presidency had also voiced their preference—the New Era.
After the name came the content. He called groups together in his search for ideas. The roster of those attending read like a Who’s Who in Church stature and contribution. He wrote letters far and wide asking for opinions, and he talked personally with many young people. It was so typical of him: calling in the experts, seeking the best wisdom available, not wanting to overlook any potential good idea from any source. When he was ready, he gave his counsel: “We must face up to the issues in the minds of our students. We must grapple with the anxious concerns of youth.” He personally directed the present “Q&A” format. “Take up the many interests and chief needs of youth—from dating to careers, and don’t neglect the arts.”
His counsel was far-ranging and varied. If you’re one of the many who have come to love the New Era, you should know that much of the basic direction was motivated by Elder Evans. He really did understand youth.
But more than understanding people, this greatly gifted man understood life, all facets of it. As a result, his sparkling intellect and endless interests carried him successfully into many fields. Can you imagine a man already enormously busy with heavy General Authority assignments and weekly conference trips, plus his weekly pressure for more than forty years to create a new and moving “Spoken Word,” also taking time to become so deeply involved in civic, educational, service, business, and other activities that he would achieve the following: (1) 1966–67 president of Rotary International (during that year he traveled worldwide speaking to service clubs); (2) president, University of Utah alumni, and three-term member of the University’s Board of Regents; (3) a member of the Utah State Board of Higher Education; (4) recipient at thirty-three of a Distinguished Service Award from the Salt Lake City Junior Chamber of Commerce, in 1961 of the George Washington Medal of the Freedom Foundation, and—in between and after—of literally dozens of honorary degrees and special honors; (5) two-term member of the Committee on Medicine and Religion for the American Medical Association; (6) member of the advisory council of the Civil War Centennial Commission; (7) weekly columnist for a New York newspaper syndicate, King Features; (8) at his death a director in about a dozen businesses, banks, and financial enterprises; and (9) of course, much more than space permits mentioning. His active and successful involvement in so many facets of life is staggering.
Elder Evans was not one to sit on the side and let life go by. In a day when people are being called to show their religious convictions by their actions, Elder Evans is a monument, an enduring example for all of us.
But now some remarkable facts. His father was killed in an accident when young Richard was only ten weeks old (he was born March 23, 1906 in Salt Lake City, the last of nine children). All his early life he missed a father’s counsel and arm. Then, even though he won scholastic, debating, and his high school’s distinguished service awards, and had been editor of the school paper, he put himself through college by “working all the time” in every job imaginable: raising and selling flowers, selling magazines and newspapers, having a paper route, dispensing sodas, driving trucks, surveying for the railroad, making syrup, collecting bad debts, selling woolens, working in printing shops, advertising, and writing! After his mission he received his degree in English, and a year later a masters degree in economics. At twenty-seven, after having established his course in life, he married Alice Thornley, and together they raised their four sons, whom he called “the joys of my life.”
But can you imagine a man so widely involved, so deeply committed—a writer, an editor, an announcer, a reader of countless thousands of pages of reports, compendiums, and books—denied the use of an eye? It was a handicap that he shouldered throughout his career. Few of us will know his extra difficulties in reading, in studying, in meeting all his deadlines—all the pressures were there! And still he accomplished, still he worked relentlessly onward, with knowledge that all of us have handicaps of one sort or another, all of us have difficulties. But it is not the excuses we give that count, but what we do that counts.
Long live the memory of Elder Richard L. Evans. May readers seek elsewhere the full and beautiful story of his life. But most of all, may we follow those same correct principles he lived and taught as a special witness and apostolic ambassador for the Lord Jesus Christ.
And then, “May peace be with you, this day and always.”

By Talia Rodríguez, Switzerland

Prayer is an integral part of ministering like the Savior. Prayer can begin our search to know whom to bless. It can help us come to understand heaven’s will regarding how to bless. Prayer is also a key step in learning how to perform our duty.

My husband, Mario, suffered from COVID in the early days of the disease before vaccinations. The bishop asked an elder in our ward, Moroni, to give him a priesthood blessing.

Because he didn’t want to contract the virus and spread it to his family, Moroni needed heaven’s confirmation before proceeding. He knelt in prayer with his wife, waiting for peaceful assurance. When they felt at peace, his wife told him, “Go with your armor, Moroni.”

When he entered our home, we saw a warrior of the Lord. My husband shed tears of joy when he saw the brother bravely coming to give him the blessing he desired. It was an indescribable experience.

The Savior came through His servant, our dear brother Moroni, who laid his hands on Mario’s head and blessed him as Christ would.

Sometimes we turn from the Lord because other people have made or are making mistakes. I don’t want to forget the story of the farmer who felt he had been wronged in the distribution of irrigation water and that the watermaster was at fault.
Having angered himself into distraction over the seeming unfairness, he sought out the watermaster, grasped him by the shirt bitterly, and said, “Tom, as long as you are watermaster, I won’t take another drop out of that ditch.”
What happened to that farmer? Well, he was a stubborn man. He kept his foolish vow. And he and his property dried up and blew away.

Earlier this semester one of my students came to me distraught over failing a midterm. We discussed several ways she might improve: taking the practice exam as if it were real, forming a study group, teaching the principles to others, and trying more problems. She listened, she adjusted, and she aced the next midterm. Last week during office hours a different student expressed dismay at her performance on the midterm. The first student overheard her and immediately invited the discouraged classmate to join her study group and learn from the group’s collective experience. Love from others is essential when we are not having the experience we want.

At a certain point in my activation, I loved going to church, but I still didn’t feel perfectly comfortable there. I had to decide if I really had a testimony of what I was doing. Was I going back for my children? For my parents? Because I wanted to feel better about myself? What exactly did it mean to have a testimony of the gospel?
I listened intently to members bearing their testimonies in sacrament meeting, wondering if my testimony was real. One Sunday my Gospel Essentials teacher told us that the only thing a person needs to do to begin gaining a testimony is have faith that Jesus Christ lives and presides over the Church.
These words hit me so strongly that tears started streaming down my face. I knew that I knew that much. I knew that Jesus Christ lives, that he loves me, and that he presides over the Church. I also knew I had a testimony of disciplinary councils, prayer, the Word of Wisdom, tithing, and leaders who are called of God. I went home from church that day knowing that I had a testimony.

During the 2016 Christmas season, Africa Southeast Area leaders encouraged members and friends of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to participate in the “Light the World in 25 Ways in 25 Days” initiative. We had decided to follow the program in our family. We prayerfully strove to adapt the ideas of the proposed activities to our situation and environment.
During the same period, many in Kinshasa began to feel pessimistic and fearful because the impending December 19th election deadline was expected to be violent. In contrast to the alarm felt in the neighborhood, we remained positive and confident in our Heavenly Father. A few days before that fateful date, my 6-year-old son Ryan and his nanny escaped an attempted abduction during their return from school while I was testifying about peace to my neighbors. The week before, my husband gave a talk in church about the Savior calming the storm (see Mark 4:36–41).
We knew that this “Light the World” theme for December 19th—“Jesus calmed the storm, you can do the same”—was not a mere coincidence. The Lord had offered to calm the political storm in Kinshasa, and He had done so.
Each year, we are invited to “Light the World.” If we follow the suggested calendar of scriptures with prayer, our light will shine and miracles will continue to take place (see 3 Nephi 18:15).