Gospel Story Finder

For weeks, Nauvoo had been buzzing with activity. Wagons clattered along frozen streets. People rushed to and fro carrying packages and carting barrels of food. Joseph Taylor knew he would not see this scene much longer. Soon, the Saints would be leaving their homes on the bank of the Mississippi River to travel west.
“Joseph, I need you to load the wagon,” his mother called from the kitchen.
Joseph had been avoiding this for days. He didn’t mind helping, but he knew that once the wagon was loaded, they’d have to leave.
A scratchy burlap sack tickled his face as he lifted it into the wagon’s shallow bed. His family had hardly even started packing, yet the wagon was almost full.
“Where are we putting everything else?” Joseph asked his mother as he picked up another sack in the kitchen.
“We’re only taking the necessities, Joseph,” his mother said. “I thought you understood that. There just isn’t enough room for everything.”
Joseph’s eyes started to fill with tears. It was bad enough leaving his comfortable home, but now they had to leave all of their favorite things too.
Joseph ran upstairs and into the toy room. It was his favorite part of the house. He had spent hours here imagining grand adventures while riding his wooden rocking horse that his father had carved for him. Joseph ran his hand over the horse and felt its golden mane of real horsehair. He realized that he would have to say good-bye to it forever.
On a frosty morning, Joseph’s family tied the canvas covering over their wagon and shut the door of their home for the last time. After inching their way through the snow, they boarded a ferry and pushed off to cross the icy river. Joseph watched as Nauvoo—and his beloved toy horse—slipped farther into the distance.
That night when the Saints set up camp, Joseph wrapped up in a quilt and warmed his hands over a fire. But nothing could help the cold ache in his heart.
Joseph’s father placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
Joseph felt foolish. Everyone had left important things behind. “I miss my horse,” he said, starting to cry. “I love him so much, and I’ll never see him again.”
Joseph’s father pulled him close. “I understand,” he said. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed for missing something you love.”
When Joseph awoke the next morning, his father, who was an Apostle, had left to help some other families in need. Joseph gathered wood and fed the animals. He filled pots with ice from the creek so his mother could cook supper.
As the sun dipped below the horizon that evening, Joseph saw his father coming into camp. He looked exhausted. Ever since he had been injured at Carthage, he had needed to use a cane to help him walk. Today he was limping more than usual. His face was red from the cold, and there was snow on his jacket.
“But it hasn’t snowed all day,” Joseph thought. “Where has Father been?”
Then he saw it. Tied to his father’s horse was Joseph’s rocking horse. His father had ridden all the way back to Nauvoo, across the icy Mississippi River, and risked being caught by the angry mobs just to retrieve Joseph’s beloved horse.
“I think he’ll like going on this adventure to the West, don’t you?” his father asked as Joseph raced into his outstretched arms.

Nine years later Hal was enjoying tenure at Stanford and serving as bishop of the Stanford First Ward. With his in-laws living nearby, “things were set,” he recalls. But in the middle of the night in 1971, Kathleen woke him with two unusual questions: “Are you sure you are doing the right thing with your life?”
Wondering how they could be any happier, Hal asked, “What do you mean?”
Kathleen replied, “Couldn’t you be doing studies for Neal Maxwell?”
Neal A. Maxwell had just been appointed Commissioner of the Church Educational System. Neither Hal nor Kathleen knew him, but Kathleen felt that perhaps her husband could be doing more to change lives.
“Doing studies for Neal Maxwell—at my stage of my career?” Hal responded. After all, he thought, “ ‘Doing studies’ was something a young graduate student might do.”
Following a pause, Kathleen said, “Will you pray about it?”
At that stage in his marriage, Hal knew better than to ignore his wife’s counsel. He got out of bed, knelt, and uttered a prayer. “I got no answer,” he says, “and I felt terrific about it because I didn’t want to go anywhere.”
The following day during bishopric meeting, a voice that Hal has come to know well came to his mind and rebuked him for treating lightly his wife’s prompting. “You don’t know what way is up in your career,” he was told. “If you ever get another job offer, you bring it to me.”
Hal was shaken by the experience and immediately returned home. “We’ve got a problem,” he told Kathleen. He feared he had made a mistake by passing up several job offers he had received while at Stanford. “I had never prayed over any of them,” he says. Humbled, he began praying about his future.
Less than a week after Kathleen’s late-night questions, Commissioner Maxwell called and invited Hal to Salt Lake City for a meeting. He flew out the next day, and the two men met at the home of Hal’s parents. The first words out of Commissioner Maxwell’s mouth were “I’d like to ask you to be the president of Ricks College.”
Even his wife’s prompting and the spiritual rebuke he had received hadn’t prepared him for such a surprise. He told Commissioner Maxwell that he would need to pray about it. After all, he knew little about Ricks College. The next morning he met with the First Presidency. Afterward, Commissioner Maxwell told him the job was his if he wanted it.
Upon his return to California, Hal continued praying fervently. An answer came, but he almost missed it. “I heard a voice so faint that I hadn’t paid attention to it,” he recalls. “The voice said, ‘It’s my school.’ ” He called Commissioner Maxwell and said, “I’m coming.”
Just like that, Hal gave up the trappings of tenure at Stanford for life in a single-wide trailer in Rexburg, Idaho. It would be several months after his inauguration as president of Ricks College, on December 10, 1971, that he would move his family into their new home, which he helped build.
“I went to Ricks knowing a couple of things,” he says. “One is that I wasn’t as much of a big shot as I thought I was in terms of my great position at Stanford. Another is that I knew my wife had received revelation before I did. Finally, I knew that I was a lucky guy to be there. So instead of answering the question ‘How could I give up my career at Stanford?’ I say, ‘Heavenly Father took care of that. It never felt like a sacrifice.’ ”

Jenny’s tears brought back a flood of memories for me. I remembered trying to make it all the way through the first verse of “Love at Home.” But every time we hit “Time doth softly, sweetly glide,” my voice would crack—along with my composure. At my house, time rarely glided. It lurched from one emotional blowup to the next. In between, my brother and sisters and I walked on tiptoe, our nerves tightly strung. I guess we thought that if we were careful enough, maybe we could avoid setting off the next explosion. We could never be careful enough. And always the brief sunshine was followed by a terrifying storm of rage that threatened to swallow us up.
I remember going to church without Dad during the years when he was in and out of Church activity. When he came, I hoped no one would detect the smell of smoke on his breath. When he didn’t, well-meaning friends would sometimes ask me where he was, shattering my hope that no one had noticed.
Then there was the week he didn’t come for our family’s speaking assignment in sacrament meeting. I couldn’t stop the tears as I waited for my turn to speak. At moments like this, the unthinkable fear came to the surface: maybe we would never be an eternal family.
Always there was that fear, which over the years grew into a terrifying certainty. My clearest, most cherished childhood memory—of being sealed to my parents shortly after we had joined the Church—would ultimately mean nothing.
When my parents were divorced, I was in my twenties. But still I felt like a frightened child. All the happy parts of my past life with my family seemed suddenly canceled out—invalidated—no longer relevant. What joy could the present hold for me or for those I loved? And eternity? I felt eternally orphaned.
Now that I’m in my thirties, understanding and peace are healing some of the wounds in my soul. And one of my greatest desires is to offer some of the peace I’ve found to those of you who are living in turbulent, unhappy families.
“If you aren’t happy, you are doing something wrong.” I’m sure when my Sunday School teacher told us this, he never imagined how I would misinterpret it. I wrote it down and posted it on my mirror, knowing I wasn’t very happy. I cried in my room many nights—out of fear, disappointment, and self-pity. So I began to feel that I must be doing something terribly wrong. Even though I couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, I knew I must have some fatal flaw.
Of course, I wasn’t perfect as a teenager. But now I know that my feelings of unworthiness were not justified. Most of my sorrow came from the choices of others. And their choices were almost completely beyond my control. I was a child in my family. And as a child, I was not responsible for the overall success or failure of my family. Nor was I responsible for my parents’ choices.
The same is true for you. You may have an alcoholic parent or parents who fight or parents who violate the commandments. True, you need to do your best to not be part of the problem, but try not to complicate your situation with false feelings of guilt.
Sometimes making it through a divorce or another kind of family difficulty is a matter of simply hanging on. Hang on to the reality that your Heavenly Father loves you and your family deeply and eternally.
Often, my prayers for my family seemed to go unanswered. Sometimes, the more I prayed, the worse things seemed to get. I didn’t know then that, though the Lord shares our sorrow, he will not force change. But over time, his love can often find a way to bring even greater blessings than we had prayed for. So many of those fervent prayers of long ago have now been answered. And I now know that he has never ceased trying to bless my loved ones.
Hang on to the scriptures that fill you with faith. For example, “Let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly” (D&C 100:15).
Find music that feeds your spirit. How many nights I found peace by singing to myself, “When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high, and don’t be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet, silver song of the lark. Walk on through the wind. Walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk alone. You’ll never walk alone” (Rodgers and Hammerstein, “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” Carousel).
If your family’s unhappiness includes abuse—physical, sexual, or emotional—you may need to ask for help. Find an adult—a parent, Church leader, social worker, school counselor, or physician—whom you trust and who will take you seriously. This may be embarrassing and very difficult. But sometimes intervention from outside the family is needed to protect you and other family members.
Hang on to leaders and friends who encourage you and help you keep your faith and standards. Brother Cherrington, a stake patriarch in our ward, always made me feel that I was someone special and that I would make it.
Hang on to your patriarchal blessing and the vision of yourself it gives you. Its promises, however distant they may seem, are real and eternal. The Lord knew all about your present difficulties when he gave those promises, and they will be fulfilled.
Hang on to the reality that you are not alone in your situation. As a teenager, I felt that my family and our problems were unique. When my best friend spent the night at my house, I worried that she would notice what I wanted to hide. Not until we were adults did I discover that her family had very similar problems to mine.
Don’t be fooled by appearances. The most confident, witty, and popular of your friends may face problems even greater than yours. Even the most faithful families may have deep challenges. Knowing this can help you break out of the prison of being totally absorbed with your own problems. Let it also prompt you to reach out in love to your friends, even when your own problems seem great.
In times of difficulty, how can we possibly keep a positive attitude? In August 1831, the Prophet Joseph Smith and ten elders were returning to Kirtland, Ohio, from a missionary journey to Jackson County, Missouri. On the third day of their trip, they had a perilous canoe ride down the Missouri River. They must have been tired and shaken, possibly homesick as well. Then the Lord reassured them with these gentle words: “Be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you” (D&C 61:36).
We, too, can be assured that the Lord will never leave us alone. During my teenage years, I did not always recognize his presence. Now I know that when my way was the most perilous, he was always with me.
We need to also know that our Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation is infinitely more just and merciful than we can possibly comprehend. He will leave nothing undone for the blessing of his children. Truly, there are no eternal orphans in his loving plan.
Although we must live in the present, we can also live for the future. We can live for the day when we can go to the temple to receive greater understanding and blessings than we now enjoy. We can live for the day when we can make a home of our own—a home where we can strive to bring love, peace, and the Spirit. We can also live for the day when we can nurture others as we may not have been nurtured ourselves.
For me, this day has come at last. I know that it can come for you.

For example, an especially dramatic moment occurred in the mid-70's when Semisi Ha'unga, a student, died as a result of a neck injury in a pick up rugby game in the front field. His death left his wife `Ahoika and four little girls alone in a foreign country. The sadness was almost too much to bear, but `Ahoika remained faithful and optimistic. Eventually she had to return to Tonga with her children, receiving a small salary from a Church school where she worked. A widow and single parent with several children, `Ahoika eked out a living.
Mele Ha'unga, the youngest daughter recently graduated from BYU-Hawaii. I heard her speak about her mother's amazing faith, hard work, and full-souled devotion to the Church, especially in keeping the law of tithing. Mele said, "I remember one day in Tonga, Mom called a family council and told us children that we had just enough money from that particular paycheck to pay our tithing and the monthly bills, but there was no money for food. I remember complaining to Mom, "Why can't we use the tithing money for food? Heavenly Father has plenty of money. Your tithing is so small compared to what He has. Does God want us to starve to pay tithing money He doesn't need?"
"But Mom was adamant. `It's His money, He may not need it, but we need to pay it back. It is our need, not God's, to pay tithing."
Mele spoke of the prayers of her widow mother and the anxiety of the children, when suddenly a man appeared at their home. It was their father's brother, not a member of the Church. He was laden with foodstuffs from his garden pot, yams, sweet potato, green banana, and a roasted pig. Their was corn beef, bread. The sight of all this food made a deep impression, but it was their uncle's story that moved them the most. He said,
"I was working in my plantation today. At noon I lay down to rest under a tree. I slept and I saw your father walking toward me. When I saw him I knew instantly why he had come to me. You were hungry and without food."
Thus, the widow's faith was vindicated in front all of her children. `Ahoika, still a widow, represents the millions of devoted latter-day saints over the world whose faith and trust in paying their tithing makes this school possible. As faculty, students, and alumni it lifts our stewardship, collectively and individually, to a higher level of consecration and promise before God that we are worthy, committed; that you and I are accountable before God, the Church, and all widows.

That is a question that a lot of us would like to know the answer to. Scientists also are searching for the answer to such a strange phenomenon. To find out what they are learning, two of my sons and I took a trip to Scripps Institution of Oceanography last March. While visiting the aquarium there, we picked up a pamphlet that listed the times of high and low tides for the area around San Diego. Sandwiched in the center of the booklet was an article called “The Grunion Story.” It described the strange habits of a small silvery fish called the grunion that beaches itself upon the sand in very large numbers about twice each month at certain times of the year. These “runs,” as they are called, can be predicted fairly accurately from a knowledge of the tides. The booklet indicated that a grunion run was expected to begin about one o’clock the following morning. Well, you can probably guess what happened when my boys read that!

In the dead of night, Keith’s wristwatch alarm rang to wake us up. We got dressed and headed outside, where we were greeted by a fog so thick that we could only see a few feet in front of us. Undaunted, we climbed into our car and inched our way down the winding street to the ocean’s edge.

Except for us and a couple of sleepy-looking birds, the beach was deserted. Where is everyone? we wondered. We watched wave after wave roll in and break upon the sand and then recede, but no grunion appeared. I stood watch on a rock a little farther out, where a large wave broke over my feet and filled my shoes with water. But still no grunion. After an hour of fruitless waiting, we gave up and wended our way through the heavy fog back to the motel, where we lapsed into sleep.

Suddenly Keith’s alarm rang again, and we saw that it was light outside. It was almost time for the aquarium to open, so we hustled off without eating breakfast. When we got there, however, the aquarium was still closed. Puzzled, we peered through the glass door to see a large clock on the wall with its big hand on six and its little hand between seven and eight. Keith’s watch also had its big hand on six, but its little hand was between eight and nine. Then we realized the reason for the absence of people and grunion at the beach that night. Keith’s watch was an hour fast. We had arrived an hour early and left just before the grunion run was supposed to start!

President Lee often told another story of when his mother had saved him from serious injury: Louisa had been making soap one day and had a large pan of lye on a high shelf so that the younger children would not get into it. She asked Harold to help her get the pan down. Suddenly the pan slipped from their grip, and the burning lye spilled over Harold’s face, head, and arms. Louisa grabbed Harold so that he couldn’t run away, then kicked off the lid from a barrel of pickles that she had just made. Scooping up the vinegar in her hand, she washed the lye off her son. The vinegar helped neutralize the lye, thus saving Harold from being badly scarred.

Simone has other favorites too. He loves animals and always wanted to have a pet of his own. Not long ago, his dream came true! “My brother and I got two dogs!” he said with a smile. “We named them Birba and Quinzia.” Birba (which means “naughty”) is a small basset hound; Quinzia is a boxer.
Simone and his brother, Emanuele, love to play with the dogs and take them for walks around their neighborhood. Of course, having pets also means taking care of them. But Simone’s mother, Christina, says that he is very willing to do that. “He also helps with other chores around the house,” she adds, “and because I work outside the home, that is very important to me.”

I had faithfully read the Book of Mormon daily since I was a teenager. Even on nights when I’d fall into bed exhausted and realize I hadn’t read for the day, I would pick it up and read at least a few verses.
Two years ago I was asked to teach the Old Testament in early-morning seminary. I was more unfamiliar with the Old Testament than any other book of scripture, so some days I would spend three to four hours studying and preparing my lessons. Because I spent so much time studying the Bible and latter-day revelation, I stopped reading the Book of Mormon every day. We were reading it as a family at night, and I would use it for an occasional cross-reference, so I felt that I was getting sufficient daily gospel study.
In the middle of the school year in January, my stake president challenged the entire stake to read a chapter in the Book of Mormon each day. Though I wondered how I would find time given my heavy seminary studies, I decided I should accept the challenge. I needed to do it not only to strengthen myself but also to set an example for my children and students.
From that moment on I read a chapter from the Book of Mormon each day as I started preparing my seminary lesson or as I got ready for bed. A spirit and a power I didn’t know was missing returned to my life. My seminary lessons, which had been going well, became even better. Parts of the Old Testament that were difficult to understand became clearer. I also realized that I better understood the Book of Mormon as a result of the intense study I had been doing of the prophets and the law of Moses.

The first time I knew I had a testimony of Joseph Smith was when I was just 11 years old and my parents took me to Temple Square in Salt Lake City.
My favorite activity was to collect all the free stuff. I became very adept at working the system. I would ask, “Is this free?” After a positive response I would reach out my 11-year-old hand and say, “Thank you. Is that free too? Thank you!” On occasion someone might say, “No, I’m sorry; those cost five cents.” Undeterred, I would lower my head and, showing much disappointment, say, “Oh, I always wanted to read that pamphlet, but I don’t have any money. Thank you!” It worked every time. The truth is, I never read it. I just collected it.
However, on this particular trip, I was alone in our 1948 Chevrolet, waiting for my parents, when I became inescapably bored. In desperation I looked down at the seat and spotted my stack of free stuff. I picked up a pamphlet entitled Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story and began to read it.
I was riveted, and my heart was filled with joy. After completing it, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror, and much to my surprise, I was crying. I didn’t understand then, but I understand now. I had felt a witness of the Spirit. My parents weren’t there. My sister wasn’t there. My Primary teacher wasn’t there. It was just me and the Spirit of the Holy Ghost.

Emmeline also embraced this command. She understood that what the Lord said to one, He said to all (see Doctrine and Covenants 25:1, 16; 82:5). Even before her baptism at age 14 in March 1842, Emmeline had shown a love of learning and a talent for writing. Shortly after her baptism she finished her last term of formal education in Massachusetts and began teaching. After emigrating to Nauvoo, she taught in the common school system there. As Emmeline’s faith led her to join the Saints in other locales, including Winter Quarters and Utah Territory, she continued her educational and literary pursuits, in large part through her involvement in the Relief Society.

An evening of sharing that emphasized the similarities in people and helped to create a better understanding of the differences was sponsored by the Monument Park Third Ward, Salt Lake Foothill Stake, last November. Several weeks of planning and preparation resulted in a lively carnival and dance for 65 handicapped persons from the Salt Lake Work Activity Center.
The youth leaders of the priest and Laurel groups, Tom Green and Kay Nilson, visited the center to get acquainted with the adults and to gain some insight into what they could and could not do. After that, Tom and Kay reported to the ward Young Men-Young Women committee their observations and ideas. Then plans were made, committees were formed, and in addition, each Mutual class was given responsibility to plan and construct one carnival booth.
The night of the party, the cultural hall took on a festive, carnival atmosphere, with brightly colored, hand-lettered signs announcing the events. A long line soon formed at the bowling area, as everyone seemed to want to try his hand at knocking down the pins. The relay race consisted of participants, many of them in wheelchairs, throwing footballs through suspended hoops. Other events included a beanbag toss, fish pond, tennis ball toss, and a beauty parlor. Another popular booth was the hammer-and-nail drive where participants hammered a nail into a wooden plank. The highlight of the evening, however, was the dance. The young people earned the money to pay for a live band by making the desserts for an elders quorum party. Once the music started, everyone joined in the dancing, including those in wheelchairs, who were assisted by the young people.
A rewarding part of the evening was to see the excitement the handicapped persons exhibited when they won a prize, the pride they felt at being successful. Nancy Straider, the adviser from the center who accompanied them, said, “This has been such a wonderful experience for them! Some who are really reluctant to participate and who are usually afraid of strangers are getting involved tonight and having a great time.”
Each young person was assigned to be a special companion to one of the guests, and they really took the assignment seriously, seeing that their guests had an enjoyable time. By the time the last booth was taken down and the final cup of punch finished, all agreed it had been an evening of sharing that will be long remembered by those who participated.

Lindsay felt nervous as she looked around the hospital room. She knew that soon someone would come to take her to the operating room for surgery. Mom and Dad stood close to her bed.
A few days before, Lindsay’s family had had a special family home evening. Mom gave a lesson about priesthood blessings. Then each member of the family told about a time when he or she was blessed by the power of the priesthood. Lindsay felt peaceful and happy as she listened to their testimonies. Mom explained that the peaceful feeling was the Holy Ghost telling Lindsay that what she was hearing was true.
At the end of the lesson, Lindsay’s older brother, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, put a drop of consecrated oil on her head and said a prayer. Then Dad gave her a wonderful blessing. He said that Heavenly Father knew and loved her. He said that the doctors would be blessed in their work and that the surgery would go well. He also promised that Lindsay would have a special feeling of comfort and peace that would replace her fears.
Waiting in the hospital, Lindsay tried to be brave, but tears slowly leaked from the corners of her eyes. Two men in hospital clothes came into her room and said it was time for the surgery. They were kind as they tried to cheer her up, but still Lindsay’s fear did not go away.
Lindsay hugged Mom and Dad from her bed. Then one of the men pulled up the railing on her bed so she would be safe as they wheeled her down the hall. As Lindsay turned to see what he was doing, she saw a familiar silver ring on his finger. A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart as she saw the letters CTR on the ring. Lindsay smiled as her fears slipped away. She knew that everything was going to be fine.

A story illustrating the magic of writing is told in connection with two explorers who were working several hundred miles apart in the then-dark continent of Africa. One of the explorers wanted to send a message to the other; and having a native who knew the way and who agreed to carry whatever he wanted to send, the explorer made some marks on a piece of paper with his pen, folded the paper up, put it in an envelope, and gave it to the native. After some weeks in the jungle the native arrived at the camp of the other explorer and delivered the envelope. The explorer unfolded the message and looked at the marks on the paper; and without one single word having been spoken, the man to whom the message was delivered knew where his explorer friend was and what his problems and needs were. He knew about his health and several other personal things just by looking at the mysterious marks on the paper, which meant nothing at all to the native. This miracle so astounded the native that he fell down on his face and worshiped the writing.

A couple of years ago my family and I moved. The first few weeks that I attended church and Mutual, I felt alone. But I prayed every day that I would be able to make new friends and feel a part of my new ward. Little by little I have come to love and appreciate this ward. I had to be the one to initiate friendships. I had to start the conversation. I had to fully participate in classes and listen to what others said. With Heavenly Father’s help, I now have close friendships with people I never pictured being friends with.
Leah V., 16, Colorado, USA

In the fall of 1825, an acquaintance of the Hales, Josiah Stowell, hired young Joseph Smith and others to dig for silver. After a month of digging and finding nothing, Joseph persuaded Mr. Stowell to quit digging. While Joseph was working for Mr. Stowell, Joseph and his father boarded with the Hales. That’s when Emma met Joseph.
Over the next year, as Joseph and his father worked at various jobs in the area, Joseph and Emma talked in the evenings after work. She was an excellent cook and had a delightful sense of humor, which Joseph probably enjoyed.
Joseph soon decided to marry Emma. He told his parents: “I have been very lonely ever since Alvin died [three years before], and I have concluded to get married, and if you have no objections with my uniting myself in marriage with Miss Emma Hale, she would be my choice in preference to any other woman.”1 Joseph’s parents, pleased with his choice, invited Joseph and Emma to live with them after the marriage so they too could enjoy Emma’s company.
About 15 months after they first met, Joseph and Emma married, and Joseph worked that summer on his father’s farm.

Years ago my adventurous son Jeff and I found ourselves on an old bus bouncing along on a dirt road in Central America at 1:00 a.m. We took the early, early bus because it was the only bus that day. A half hour later, the driver stopped for two missionaries. When they got on, we asked them where in the world they were going so early. Zone conference! And they were determined to do whatever it took to get there. At 2:00 a.m. two more elders boarded the bus and enthusiastically hugged their fellow missionaries. This scene repeated itself every half hour as the bus climbed the remote mountain road. By 5:00 a.m. we had 16 of the Lord’s finest as fellow passengers and were basking in the Spirit they brought on board.
Suddenly we screeched to a halt. A massive mud slide had buried the road. Jeff said, “What do we do now, Dad?” Our friends Stan, Eric, and Allan had the same concern. Just then the zone leader shouted, “Let’s go, elders. Nothing is going to stop us!” And they scrambled off the bus! We looked at each other and said, “Follow the elders,” and we all sloshed through the mud slide, trying to keep up with the missionaries. There happened to be a truck on the other side, so we all hopped aboard. After a mile we were stopped by yet another mud slide. Once again the elders plowed through, with the rest of us close behind. But this time there was no truck. Boldly the zone leader said, “We will be where we are supposed to be even if we have to walk the rest of the way.” Years later, Jeff told me how those missionaries and this photo inspired and motivated him tremendously as he served the Lord in Argentina.
Although we overcame the mud slides, we were all spotted with mud. The missionaries were somewhat nervous about standing before their president on zone conference day when he and his wife would be carefully checking their appearance.
As you and I slosh through the mud slides of life, we can’t help getting a few mud spots on us along the way either. And we don’t want to stand before the Lord looking muddy.
When the Savior appeared in ancient America, He said, “Repent, all ye ends of the earth, and come unto me and be baptized in my name, that ye may be sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost, that ye may stand spotless before me at the last day” (3 Nephi 27:20).
Alma warns us about some of the ways we become spotted with mud: “For our words will condemn us, yea, all our works will condemn us; we shall not be found spotless; and our thoughts will also condemn us” (Alma 12:14).
Alma also said:
“Ye cannot be saved; for there can no man be saved except his garments are washed white; yea, his garments must be purified until they are cleansed from all stain. …
“… How will any of you feel, if ye shall stand before the bar of God, having your garments stained with blood and all manner of filthiness?” (Alma 5:21–22).
He also tells us about “all the holy prophets, whose garments are cleansed and are spotless, pure and white” (Alma 5:24).
He then asks us how we are doing as we cross through the mud slides of life: “Have ye walked, keeping yourselves blameless before God? Could ye say, if ye were called to die at this time, … that your garments have been cleansed and made white through the blood of Christ?” (Alma 5:27).
Because of repentance and the Atonement of Jesus Christ, our garments can be spotless, pure, fair, and white. Moroni pleads, “O then ye unbelieving, turn ye unto the Lord; cry mightily unto the Father in the name of Jesus, that perhaps ye may be found spotless, pure, fair, and white, having been cleansed by the blood of the Lamb, at that great and last day” (Mormon 9:6).
In 1 Samuel we read, “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; … for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
The Nephites were looking on the outward appearance of the Lamanites, for Jacob declared, “Wherefore, a commandment I give unto you, which is the word of God, that ye revile no more against them because of the darkness of their skins” (Jacob 3:9).
Our Father knows and loves His children all over the world, from Boston to Okinawa, from San Antonio to Spain, from Italy to Costa Rica. In Ghana, President Gordon B. Hinckley recently thanked the Lord “for the brotherhood that exists among us, that neither color of skin nor land of birth can separate us as Thy sons and daughters” (Accra Ghana Temple dedicatory prayer, in “Brotherhood Exists,” Church News, Jan. 17, 2004, 11).
We invite men and women everywhere, whatever language or culture, to “come unto [Christ] and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; … [for] all are alike unto God” (2 Nephi 26:33).
We come to this world in many colors, shapes, sizes, and circumstances. We don’t have to be rich, tall, thin, brilliant, or beautiful to be saved in the kingdom of God—only pure. We need to be obedient to the Lord Jesus Christ and keep His commandments. And we can all choose to do that regardless of where we live or what we look like.
When the four sons of Mosiah taught the gospel to the wild, ferocious Lamanites, a mighty change of heart occurred:
“As many of the Lamanites as believed in their preaching, and were converted unto the Lord, never did fall away.
“For they became a righteous people; they did lay down the weapons of their rebellion, that they did not fight against God any more, neither against any of their brethren” (Alma 23:6–7).
Today many of their descendants are reading about this in their own copies of the Book of Mormon and are choosing to follow Christ. I love meeting the children of Lehi in spotless white in the numerous temples in the Mexico South Area, where I am currently serving. I feel as President Gordon B. Hinckley did at the dedication of the Guatemala City temple:
“Thou kind and gracious Father, our hearts swell with gratitude for thy remembrance of the sons and daughters of Lehi, the many generations of our fathers and mothers who suffered so greatly and who walked for so long in darkness. Thou hast heard their cries and seen their tears. Now there will be opened to them the gates of salvation and eternal life” (Guatemala City Guatemala Temple dedicatory prayer, in “Their Cries Heard, Their Tears Seen,” Church News, Dec. 23, 1984, 4).
I have seen humble descendants of Lehi come down from the mountains to that temple and openly weep as they stood there in awe. One gave me an abrazo and asked me to take that hug of love, appreciation, and brotherhood back to all those beloved missionaries who brought them the gospel and to all the Saints whose tithing faithfulness has brought temple blessings within reach. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can all stand spotless, pure, and white before the Lord.
With great gratitude I lift my voice with Nephi: “And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children [and our grandchildren] may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins” (2 Nephi 25:26).
My wife and I love this scripture so much that she painted it on a wall in our living room, below a beautiful white porcelain Christus. They are a constant reminder for us to live Christ-centered lives.
One day our son was reading the scriptures with his family. Our seven-year-old grandson Clatie read, “‘And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ’—Hey, that’s what Granny and Grandpa have on their wall!” Now that’s one of his favorite scriptures.
On another occasion we were at the visitors’ center on Temple Square with these same grandchildren. Two-year-old Ashley was tired and wanted to leave. Sister Mask asked her if she wanted to see a big Jesus like the one on our wall. She asked, “Is He as big as me?” “Even bigger,” Sister Mask replied. When that tiny, little girl looked up at the majestic Christus, she ran and stood at the feet and gazed up reverently for several minutes. When her father indicated it was time to go, she said, “No, no, Daddy. He loves me and wants to give me hugs!”
The road of life is strewn with spiritual mud slides. Whatever our sins and imperfections, may we attack them with the same missionary zeal that those elders attacked their mud slides. And may we thank our Father daily for sending us His Son, Jesus Christ, to forgive us our mud spots so that we may stand spotless before Him. Ashley was right. He does love us and will say to us at that great day, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: … enter thou into the joy of thy lord” (Matthew 25:21).
I bear witness that He lives and He loves us. He is our Savior and our Redeemer. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I was startled when my new ministering sister, Amy Jo, asked me for the names of all my children and then said, “I will pray for each of them and for you.” No one had ever offered to do that for me.
Every time we talk, she asks about my needs and those of my family and says she’ll pray for specific needs such as “I’ll pray for your son to find a job, and I’ll pray that you can be healed faster.” I have been extremely touched by this ongoing practice and feel the results of her efforts.

I would like to tell you about some of the miracles that occurred in Andre’s quorum in Mochudi. As I share this example, watch for principles that strengthen every priesthood quorum that applies them.
After Andre was baptized, he accompanied the missionaries as they taught four other young men, who were also baptized. Now there were five young men. They began strengthening each other and the branch.
A sixth young man, Thuso, was baptized. Thuso shared the gospel with three of his friends, and soon there were nine.
Disciples of Jesus Christ are often gathered this way—a few at a time, as invited by their friends. Anciently, when Andrew found the Savior, he went quickly to his brother Simon and “brought him to Jesus.” Similarly, soon after Philip became a follower of Christ, he invited his friend Nathanael to “come and see.”
In Mochudi, a 10th young man soon joined the Church. The missionaries found the 11th. And the 12th young man was baptized after seeing the gospel’s effect on his friends.
Members of the Mochudi Branch were thrilled. These young men “were converted unto the Lord, and … united unto the church.”
The Book of Mormon played a significant role in their conversion. Thuso remembers, “I began reading the Book of Mormon … every time I was free, at home, at school, everywhere.”
Oratile was drawn to the gospel because of the example of his friends. He explains: “[They] seemed to change in the snap of a finger. … I thought it had … to do with the little … book they started carrying around … school. I could see what good men they had become. … [I] wanted to change too.”
All 12 young men were gathered and baptized within two years of each other. Each was the only member of the Church in his family. But they were supported by their Church family, including President Rakwela, their branch president; Elder and Sister Taylor, a senior missionary couple; and other branch members.
Brother Junior, a quorum leader, invited the young men to his home on Sunday afternoons and mentored them. The young men studied the scriptures together and held regular home evenings.
Brother Junior took them to visit members, people being taught by the missionaries, and anyone else who needed a visit. All 12 young men piled into the back of Brother Junior’s truck. He dropped them off at homes in companionships of two or three and picked them up later.
Even though the young men were just learning about the gospel and didn’t feel they knew much, Brother Junior told them to share one or two things they did know with the people they visited. These young priesthood holders taught, prayed, and helped watch over the Church. They fulfilled their priesthood responsibilities and experienced the joy of serving.
Andre said, “We played together, laughed together, cried together, and became a brotherhood.” In fact, they call themselves “the Band of Brothers.”
Together they set a goal that they would all serve missions. Since they were the only Church members in their families, they had many obstacles to overcome, but they helped each other through them.
One by one, the young men received mission calls. Those who left first wrote letters home to those still preparing, sharing experiences and encouraging them to serve. Eleven of the young men served missions.
These young men shared the gospel with their families. Mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, as well as people they taught on their missions, were converted and baptized. Miracles occurred and countless lives were blessed.
It has been almost 10 years since the Mochudi Band of Brothers started their journey together, and they are still a band of brothers.
Katlego said, “We may be separated by distance but we are still there for each other.”

The first time I paid tithing, the amount was five cents. With my father, I went to the office of the bishop, who solemnly accepted my five pennies and wrote out the receipt. Then he came from behind his desk and sat next to me. With his hand on my shoulder, he said, “Ronald, you have made a good beginning. If you continue as you have begun, you can be a perfect tithe payer.” The idea of being perfect at anything seemed well beyond my ability. But with those words, the bishop inspired me to strive for perfection in that one basic aspect of the gospel.

One of the stalwarts of the Nassau Branch is Willamae Kemp who began attending the branch 18 years ago when Antoine and Leona Ferrier invited her to a meeting. “Leona told me,” recalls Sister Kemp, “that she just saw me in this Church. She said she thought I would fit in.”
Sister Kemp will never forget that first meeting. The teacher was talking about the Godhead, something Sister Kemp had wondered about. When it was explained that members of the Church believe that God the Father, his Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate and distinct beings who have unity of purpose, Willamae says: “The clouds seemed to part. From that day to this, I have been learning.”