Gospel Story Finder

The young missionary had spent the morning scrubbing the floors of the mission home, washing and ironing his shirts, and mending his socks. Then, since it was preparation day, he had decided to visit the university library. Finding nothing of particular interest in the book stacks, he pulled out his own copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and began reading section 76—Joseph Smith’s vision of heaven.
He became so absorbed in the Prophet’s description that he didn’t notice the passing of time, and it was night when he finally left the library. As he walked across the spacious lawn toward the streetcar, he looked up into the heavens: “There was no moon, but the sky was clear. … The Southern Cross and other brilliant stars, visible in the Southern Hemisphere, shone with unusual grandeur. As I gazed in wonder, I seemed to see beyond the stars the things I had been reading about. I could not then and I have not been able since to recall walking across the lawn.”
Retelling this experience in 1965, President Romney said: “Since that Saturday evening in Sydney, Australia, forty-three years ago, I have never been content to view life through the lens which reveals only the narrow span between mortal birth and death. I cannot remember of having made, during the intervening years, a single voluntary major decision or judgment without testing it by my knowledge of revealed truth.” (Address delivered at Brigham Young University, 27 May 1965, p. 20.)

“I think this is the best we’ve ever done,” said Johnny Apel, 16. And that’s a pretty big compliment. After all, this is a stake that sponsors memorable activities at the end of each seminary year that correspond with the book of scriptures they’ve been studying. They’ve put on things like a “Nephite Festival” that was their version of a county fair in the land of Bountiful, complete with a realistically simulated earthquake and storm, followed by a beautiful talk on Third Nephi.
Then there was the big “Wander in the Wilderness,” where the seminary students were taken to a desolate area, divided by their birth months into twelve “tribes,” and required to complete 12 Old Testament-oriented tasks like rescuing Daniel from the lion’s den, building a tower of Babel, and building an ark. At the end, they were treated to a big feast, similar to that of the Passover.
With activities like that, rating the “Come unto Christ” youth conference number one really says something.
What made the event such a big success? The location wasn’t out of the ordinary—much of the program was held in the chapel, and the workshops were held in church classrooms. Meals were brought in and either eaten outside in the Texas sunshine or inside, picnic-style, on blankets on the gym floor.
So it was the theme itself and the attitudes of the kids involved that made this such a big event. “What could be more important than to come unto Christ?” said Tisha Perry, age 16. “I hoped that this activity would help me to get closer to him, and it did.”
You could actually see some changes taking place right before your eyes as the day wore on. “I really don’t know where it started, but lately I’ve had a real problem with listening to what my parents say and following the counsel they give me,” Greg Harkrider, 16, told the entire group. “I just want them to know that I’m glad that I listened to what they said and came today to learn more about Christ. That’s what I need to be here for. I’ll try to be better because of this.”
And responses from the 30 or so non-LDS kids who did come were positive as well. Rick Moore and Eric Bradshaw, two 16-year-olds who met on the set of a movie they were both involved in, came to the conference because the subject was of great interest to them both. Rick is LDS. Eric is Presbyterian. “Pretty much everything that’s been said here today I’m 100 percent with,” said Eric. “This is really encouraging for me.”
Darla Marburger, 16, who came with her LDS friend Milli Egger, 14, had a response similar to Eric’s. “This has really helped me to grow spiritually,” she said.
“I’m just glad someone has taken the time to teach us more about Christ,” added Milli. “It’s important to learn now, when we’re young and impressionable, so we have a better chance of turning out right.”
Richard Cromwell, a very popular high school teacher and an ordained Methodist minister, also paid big compliments to the event. “This is great!” he said. “I’m all for anything that helps bring the kids closer to Christ.”
The spirit of the day was not diminished when the lights in the gym went down low and the music was turned up for the dance that finished off the conference. A stake music committee, made up mostly of youth, had previously selected all the music that would be played, making sure it was fun to dance to, yet didn’t contain inappropriate lyrics.
While the music played inside, the youth on the organizing committee wandered outside for a breather. They inevitably began discussing the big subject of the day. “Being a part of all this really makes me want to work harder to be better—to be more like Jesus,” said Mark Davies, 17. “That would be so great.”
“We heard a lot about Christ today, and his spirit was here,” added Anna. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”
“Oh yes,” Thomasyn agreed. “Even though it didn’t turn out exactly like we’d planned at first, it was a big success.”
There it was. Still another big to add to the Texas list.

While I was serving as an Area Seventy, one of the stakes in my coordinating council participated in a large temple excursion. The temple the members attended is small, and unfortunately there were several members who, despite making the long 12-hour journey, were not able to enter the temple because it had exceeded the daily capacity.

A few days after this trip, I visited this stake and asked the president if I could talk with some of the members who were unable to attend the temple that day. One of the brothers I visited told me: “Elder, do not worry. I was at the house of the Lord. I sat on a bench in the garden and pondered in my mind the ordinances. Then I was given the opportunity to enter, but instead I allowed another brother, who had come to the temple for the first time to be sealed to his wife, to take my place. They then had the opportunity to attend two sessions that day. The Lord knows me, and He has blessed me, and we are fine.”

My sisters and I asked our parents to have a family home evening about emergency preparedness. First we tried out our two-story ladder, and we got to leave the house out the upstairs window. It was a little scary, but it was fun. We talked about what to do if there really was a fire. Then my parents pretended that someone was at the door, telling us we had to evacuate and we only had 10 minutes and may not be able to go home for a few days! We ran around, trying to find our shoes and coats. My parents put our 72-hour kits and some other items in the van.
We drove around and pretended we were going to a safe place. A few minutes later we were home again. We brought our gear into the living room to see what we had. My parents realized we forgot a few things—sleeping stuff, Dad’s wallet, and extra food. We talked about things we learned and what we should do better next time. Mom made a list.
Four days later some parts of the city were flooding. During the night we were evacuated! My parents again tossed everything into the van—including the things we forgot during our practice in family home evening. We were the first to leave our neighborhood.
We drove to the church and spent the night there. It was fun! We all had sleeping bags and air mattresses and snacks and toys. My little sisters were very sad the next day when we went back home. They wanted to sleep at the church again. We were grateful my sisters and I we were inspired to have a family home evening about preparedness and that my parents listened. I’m glad we were prepared; it made the experience fun and not at all scary.

Several years ago when I was teaching a grade-one class, the principal sent a note inviting anyone who wished to give a voluntary contribution for a grade-five pupil who had had an accident. I read and explained the message to my pupils, telling them that the boy really needed financial help. I told them that any amount of lunch money would be welcome. Some said, “I only have ten pesos.” Others said, “I have money, but it’s all for my lunch.” I felt sad because no one wanted to give. Then silence covered the four corners of my room. When I was about to pass the note on to the next class, a boy named Joseph handed me six pesos and said, “Ma’am, I want to give this money.”
I asked him, “How much lunch money did you bring?” He said, “Six pesos.”
I told him, “Just give two pesos and spend four pesos for food.”
“No, I want to give all of it!” he said. “I’m full already.” With that example, the other children in the class gave some of their money too.
When lunchtime came, I said to Joseph, “You don’t have food to eat now because you gave all your money.”
He smiled at me and said, “I’m happy that I did.”
I shared my food with Joseph, and as we ate together, tears flowed from my eyes. It felt good to see a child who was so generous at his young age. I thought, “If everyone were like this little boy, our Heavenly Father and our Lord Jesus Christ would be happy for us.”
Three days later, Joseph asked me, “How is the boy who was hurt? Is he OK now?” Again I was amazed. No one else in the class remembered the injured boy—only Joseph, who had given everything he had. It may not be necessary for us to give our lives as the Savior did, but we can have charity if we make Him the center of our lives and follow His example and teachings.

He began his address by telling a true baseball story he said he was reminded of sometime earlier while watching a TV program on PBS. He said the event occurred in the World Series of 1912 between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Giants. It was an eight-game series because one of the games had been called at midpoint because of darkness. Playing fields were not electrically lighted at that time. It was the last game, and the score was tied 1-1. The Red Sox were at bat. A Boston batter knocked a high fly. Two New York players ran for it. Fred Snodgrass at center field signaled to the other player that he would make the catch. He came squarely under the ball, which fell into his glove, but then went right on through and fell to the ground. As you can imagine, a howl went up in the stands. The roaring fans couldn't believe that Snodgrass had dropped the ball. He had caught hundreds of fly balls before; but now, at this crucial moment, he dropped the ball in a World Series game. The New York Giants lost the game and the Red Sox won the series. President Hinckley said that Fred Snodgrass came back the following season and played brilliant ball for nine more years. He lived to be eighty-six years old, dying in 1974. However, after that one slip in 1912, for the next sixty-two years when he was introduced to anybody, the expected response was always, "Oh, yes, you're the one who dropped the ball during the World Series with the Red Sox."

During this difficult time, I developed the habit of sitting down at the piano at the end of each day and, with one hand, plunking out favorite hymns and Primary songs. I would play “Our Savior’s Love,” “When He Comes Again,” “I Feel My Savior’s Love,” “I Am a Child of God,” and many others, always ending with “Abide with Me; ’Tis Eventide.” This nightly ritual became a comfort to my family. No matter what the day had been like, if Mom sat down at that keyboard and played some hymns, it seemed all was right with the world—or at least more bearable.
One day when I felt I had had all I could take, I sent the children into the house and sat in the car to have a good cry. After I had calmed down and prayed, I went inside. As I opened the door, I heard the soft notes of one of my favorite hymns. My son was at the keyboard, playing hymns to soothe and comfort me in my distress, as I regularly did for him and his sisters.

Two years ago one of our daughters was seriously ill and hospitalized for several weeks. Our entire family was deeply concerned. Michelle suggested in a family home evening that her family fast for their aunt. The family agreed. The next day Michelle quietly fasted. She even asked for permission from her teacher to stay in the classroom during the lunch hour so she would not be tempted to eat. Her little brother Neal did not do so well. He cried when he arrived home from school because he had not been able to resist when a boy offered him a cookie. I was proud of both of them.

In a recent fast and testimony meeting, Charlotte, age six, bore her testimony, expressing love for her parents, the Church, and President Kimball. To her parents’ surprise, 3-year-old Laura followed. She gave a powerful sermon in a few words by saying, “I know my sisters love me. I love my sisters.” And then she sat down.

Tyler, now 5 years old and anxious to start school, prays with the maturity of an adult. His prayers are very personal and always different, as he talks to his Heavenly Father in a meaningful way. His little brother Brandon is following in his footsteps. Although it is difficult to understand him, it is obvious that he, too, loves Heavenly Father.

When I ask my grandsons what they are going to do when they turn nineteen, they all reply, “I hope they call me on a mission.” In fact, all of them have missionary savings accounts and our granddaughters are saving for temple marriage hope chests.

Not long ago my wife and I shared a family home evening with a daughter’s family. The father was a seventy and involved in stake missionary work. To our delight, Robbie, eight years old and newly baptized, brought out his father’s flip charts and gave us a discussion from the missionary lessons. I would like to be that young man’s mission president someday.

Robbie, Dan, and Melissa’s older brother Joey is mentally retarded. He lives at the training school in American Fork, Utah. When they visit him, they play with Joey and the other special children who live with him. To see how they share their love is a sacred experience. They really enjoy the opportunity of making Joey and his friends happy, and they return to their home uplifted and enriched by the experience. It causes them to love one another even more.

As we have attended the baptismal services for our grandchildren, we’ve shared their happiness in becoming members of the Church. After her baptism, Amy innocently wrote in her journal: “When I was baptized, it was fun because I became a member of the Church. … Now it is all over and I don’t have any more sins and I don’t have to worry.” Seeing these precious children reach out to take their fathers’ hands in complete faith and trust as they enter the baptismal font has been one of the most beautiful sights I have witnessed. Then, joining with others in placing my hands on their heads as they have been confirmed and having their fathers give them the gift of the Holy Ghost and a father’s blessing have been experiences I shall never forget.

If I sound like a proud grandfather, I am—just as proud as your grandfathers are of you. Our grandchildren are our treasure—special spirits entrusted to us by our Father in heaven. We know what a royal generation you are! We love you and have faith in you.

I pray that my grandchildren, and grandchildren everywhere, will understand what Jesus taught and will be converted to His gospel. I hope they remain as little children, full of love and faith, so that they all might enter into the kingdom of heaven.

I was in school when I saw a new boy. A few days later, some of my classmates hit him in the hallway. They gave him a black eye. I felt so much pain for what they had done to him. I found out where he lived and offered him my friendship. The gospel teaches us that we should be helpful, and I love that.
Jeshua, age 11, Illinois, USA (please include the star he’s holding in the photo)

I was in school when I saw a new boy. A few days later, some of my classmates hit him in the hallway. They gave him a black eye. I felt so much pain for what they had done to him. I found out where he lived and offered him my friendship. The gospel teaches us that we should be helpful, and I love that.
Jeshua O., age 11, Illinois, USA

On June 10, 1953, my wife and I had the privilege of being married in the Salt Lake Temple. After President Harold B. Lee, then an apostle, concluded the beautiful ceremony, he had us stand in the center of the sealing room. Looking to the left into the mirrors that reflect off one another to show hundreds of images, he said, “On the left are the eternities you came from, and on the right the eternities to which you are going.” We looked and could see our images. Then he brought our thoughts back to the sealing room where we were and said, “This is like the world. It is but one step to all the eternities.” We were lovingly advised to stay true to the commitments of chastity, to obey the law of sacrifice and the law of consecration whereby we give all of our time, talents, and everything with which we are blessed to the service of the Lord. Then he said, “Make sure you understand that an argument never solves problems. As you stand here today, commit yourselves to having and expressing love and appreciation for each other.” It was a great teaching moment in our lives that we have never forgotten.

For days I had looked forward to my chance to work with the homeless in my city. But that cold Saturday morning it was not easy to feel charitable when I wished I could be back in my warm, comfortable bed. However, I was already committed.
As we arrived at our destination, despite the cold, many were already waiting for the kitchen to open. It was very quiet, and most of the people looked gloomy. There was not one smile or spark in anyone’s eyes, and their dark expressions matched the room they waited in.
I was frightened and decided that I didn’t want to work directly with them. Anyway, what would I say to them? How would I act around them? I didn’t want to make any of them angry with me. Was I supposed to give them pity or treat them like one of my buddies? Yes, it would definitely be easier to just stay away.
As these thoughts went through my head, we were led into a serving area with walls painted yellow, and pictures of rainbows and flowers placed strategically around the room. The brighter room calmed some of my nerves. Perhaps the sunshine and rainbows would subdue the “dangerous” ones.
While I was busy trying to conjure up more pleasant thoughts, the day’s jobs had been announced and I was left as the dishwasher. At least I would not have to interact much with them.
Soon, people began to filter in. Some knew each other, and others looked lost. I was amazed to see how different they all looked. There were even some who I would never have guessed were homeless.
There wasn’t much work for me at first, so I watched the other youth interact with the homeless. The longer I watched, the less scary these people looked to me. Those faces now began to lighten up. Smiles were everywhere, as was the sound of lively chatter. Soon, those who finished eating came and dropped their dishes in front of me. I smiled and tried to look cheerful. Some smiled back. I began to feel a lot better about these people. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all.
Suddenly, it was rush hour. I could barely keep up with the continuous flow of dishes, and my smile soon turned into a grimace and a plea for help. No one seemed to understand what I needed except one man.
Instead of walking off like everyone else, he cleaned off his plate and began to work on the mountain of dirty dishes. He was cheerful and made all those who passed him smile. He talked to me and made my work more enjoyable. This man had few material possessions, but he had a heart and compassion. His dirty appearance did not resemble his character at all. When we were finished, he told my supervisor what a good job I had done. Before I could say a word, he was gone.
In the car on the way home, I could not stop thinking of that kind man. Despite his circumstances he could still be cheerful and help others in need. I wished I could have told him how grateful I was for the example that he set for me.

Finally, success in our life may not be the result of one big choice but a series of small choices that over time lead to rich blessings. May I share one more personal experience that illustrates this principle – that blessings come into ones life through making correct choices and being obedient to the impressions that come.

Some time after our first year of service in the Recife, Brazil Mission, we received an Elder from Rio de Janeiro named Jose Morais. He was a little shy at first but it wasn’t long before he felt part of our mission family, thanks to the great efforts of Sister Gollaher. During an interview one day we were talking informally about himself and his family and he shared with me the following story.

When Elder Morais was 11 years old his mother died. He had 8 or 9 brothers and sisters and the family had been supported principally by his mother who was a seamstress. The father was only at home periodically because of a drinking problem. They were very poor and lived in the “favellas” (slums) above the business district. Upon the death of his mother, it became clear that their father didn’t have the capacity or the interest to maintain the family. Shortly thereafter, his father called the family together and told them that they would have to find other places to live because he couldn’t care for them. At eleven years of age, Jose Morais was put out on the streets of Rio de Janeiro and told to care for himself. For the next year he begged or raided garbage cans for what he ate and slept on the sidewalk or the beach. After a year, one of his sisters invited him to Sao Paulo to live with her and her boyfriend but because of her personal problems this arrangement only lasted for about 6 months and once again he was on the streets, this time in Sao Paulo – a city of 20 million people. He was now almost 13 years old.

Jose found an open piece of ground in one of the slums outside the city and built himself a shelter of cardboard. Over the next few years he worked at odd jobs to support himself but was not able to attend school. Slowly he upgraded his house from cardboard to corrugated metal but it still lacked running water or sewer.

When he was about 17, he purchased a small business consisting of a portable street cart where he could sell hot dogs and drinks to students as they came out of school. It was during this time that a couple of Sister Missionaries walked by and “felt” that they should stop. After exchanging small talk, the missionaries asked him if he would like to learn about the church. At first he resisted, but later agreed. When the missionaries tried to set up an appointment at his home he was so embarrassed that he was about to withdraw his agreement to hear the discussion. This was the first of his many choices related to the gospel. The sisters however “felt” his uneasiness and offered to teach him at a nearby church. After a couple of months he was baptized. At his baptism, the sister whom he first met told him that she would like to invite him to Rio to visit with her family after she completed her mission. He agreed, but as with most convert/ missionary relationships, after the mission he soon lost track of her.

He remained active in the church (another good choice). About a year later, he was invited to go to the temple with the youth of his ward to do baptisms for the dead. While at the temple he ran into this great sister missionary and her family who were visiting from Rio to do temple work. Once again he was invited to visit with their family in Rio. This time arrangements were made for him to come for one week. He asked a friend to watch his business and journeyed by bus to Rio (about 300 miles away). When he arrived, this great family showed him an unconditional love. They opened their home and their hearts to him. One week passed then two, two weeks then three. About this time he was feeling like he should return to Sao Paulo and resume his life but it was so hard. He said he had never felt this type of acceptance and love before in his life. Finally he announced that he was planning to leave.

Unknown to him, the family had held a counsel that evening to decide what they could do for this young man they had grown to love so much. The next day as he was preparing to leave, Elder Morais was approached by the father for a private chat. He told him that the family had been blessed to have had him in their home. He told Elder Morais that they had met as a family the previous evening to talk about him. He told him that the family had grown to love him very much and as a group had decided that they would like to legally adopt him into their family. He said, “Would you like to be a permanent part of our family?”

At this point in our interview, Elder Morais looked at me with tears streaming down his face and dripping off his chin and said, “President Gollaher, you can’t imagine how I felt to have been asked to be part of a family”. This young man’s life has been eternally altered by a family that opened their hearts with love and invited him in. As a result of a decision to choose the good, good had been returned to Elder Morais to the extent that he hardly had room enough to receive it. A year after his legal adoption, he was sealed to this family at that same Sao Paulo temple where they had first met.

I grew up in a small town in Canada. When I was 13, my father lost his job and our family relocated to Edmonton in order to survive. A few months after we moved to the city, my mother and father had a violent argument, resulting in my mother being hospitalized for six months. After a time, she allowed my father back into our household. This devastated me, and I turned to alcohol and drugs to escape the anger welling up inside.
At precisely this time, the missionaries found me. As I met families in the local ward, I was impressed with the respect the spouses had for one another and the affection parents showed their children. At age 16 I was baptized.
My first year of membership demonstrated that I would have to endure some growing pains. I had left behind the friendships and lifestyle that had served as my escape from the violence in my home. Unfortunately, my ward did not seem to offer the comfort of new friendships to fill in the gaps. I didn’t feel accepted and was ready to return to my old way of life when a missionary challenged me to stay true to my baptismal covenants. I reluctantly recommitted myself, but I felt as though I was hanging on to a rope that was slipping through my fingers.
Soon afterward I was called to be Laurel class president. I felt very inadequate; there were several Laurels in the ward who were far more qualified. When my new calling was announced, one of the girls in the ward expressed her dissatisfaction. “How could they call you?” she said. “You hardly attend church. What do you know?”
She was right; I didn’t know anything. I felt sure my calling would drive many of the Laurels to inactivity—including me. The whole situation seemed too much to bear. If anyone was at the end of her rope, I was.
When I met with my class adviser, Marlene Evans, I told her that someone had made a huge error. However, she assured me that I had been called for a reason. She began to work tirelessly with me, and I went to her home on a regular basis to learn my responsibilities. With her encouragement, I could eventually conduct a meeting without my knees knocking together.
Once Sister Evans gave me a card that read, “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” She indicated that the rope represented life, and that by not taking righteous actions, we let life slip through our fingers. The knot represented the decision to hang on to the gospel and the security it brings.
I remembered that lesson throughout the coming months. I was attending high school full-time in addition to taking correspondence courses. I was working evenings and Saturdays. I paid for my own tuition, fees, books, clothes, and room and board. There were many times I felt I was at the end of my rope. Was I a super kid, doing it all and by myself? No, but I tied a knot and held on.
Today, I am a university graduate, working as a social worker. I married in the temple and have four children. They have been to the temple and have served missions. And I have served in leadership positions in the Young Women organization. Each time I do, I take every opportunity I can to share Sister Evans’s message with the youth. Her caring and her message changed my life.
I wouldn’t have the abundant blessings I enjoy today if I hadn’t learned to tie a knot and hang on.

On Easter Sunday some years ago, my four-year-old son Ben came down the hallway of our meetinghouse after Primary, happily waving the paper he had colored. He called out with pure excitement, “Mom, Mom, have you heard about the Resurrection?” He wanted to make sure I had heard the good news. Something his Primary teacher had said really touched Ben’s heart so that he joyfully began to understand the Resurrection. How nice it would be for all of us to feel that same joy every Easter!

Thunder clapped and lightning flashed almost constantly outside the cabin window as Louisa Bingham Lee stood kneading a large batch of bread dough on the kitchen table. Beside her was her mother, who was knitting a pair of stockings, and three of Louisa’s children were playing about the room. The Lee children were always fascinated when a powerful thunderstorm rolled through their peaceful valley in Clifton, Idaho, so Louisa propped the front door open so that they could watch the great display of nature’s fireworks.
Louisa began to feel uneasy as she noticed how quickly the thunderclaps followed the lightning flashes—the lightning was striking very close! Six-year-old Harold was playing in the room in front of the open door. Suddenly Louisa dashed over to her son and gave him a vigorous push, sending him backward and onto the floor away from the doorway. An instant later a bolt of lightning flashed down the chimney, across the floor, and out the open doorway, where it split a large tree in front of the house from top to bottom. Had it not been for Louisa’s acting upon inner promptings, Harold B. Lee would not have lived to become the eleventh President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I was seven years old, and I didn’t know how to swim, so my mom enrolled me in afternoon swimming lessons with my friend Angie. At the end of each lesson, our teacher would take us out into the center of the pool to practice our strokes. We were always safe in the middle since our teacher supported us under our stomachs and we wore “bubbles” on our backs.
One day Angie and I didn’t have our bubbles on, so we clung to the side of the pool. Angie decided she wanted to try to swim across the corner to the adjacent wall, about four feet (1.2 m) away. I was hesitant at first, but then she dared me. So even though I was scared, I took in as much air as I could and plunged under the water, hoping to reach the other side. Instead of floating with ease as I had done before with my back bubble, I began to sink. I was in a state of panic. I knew I was going to drown. Then I remembered what my teacher had told me a few weeks earlier: “If you lose control while swimming, just stretch one of your arms straight up out of the water, and someone will come help you.”
With this thought in mind, I stretched my arm in the direction I thought was up. I didn’t feel any air. I stretched my arm in every direction, never finding the top. Just then my head bumped against the side of the pool. Angie was there waiting for me. I guess she hadn’t realized I was “drowning.”

Let me begin with a story about a young man we will call Michael.

One day not long ago, Michael said good-bye to his family and friends and entered the MTC. He was on his mission! This was something he had hoped for, and planned on, since he was a little boy. On his first day in the MTC, he met many other missionaries and felt a wonderful spirit. That spirit touched his heart and his soul in a very deep way. So deep, in fact, that some things that had been buried within him began to surface.

Beginning on that first day and continuing into the second, the Spirit worked on Michael. He realized those things that had been buried should have been confessed and repented of long before the MTC. As he walked the halls of the MTC, the burden of guilt began to weigh on him. He felt out of place. Finally, Michael decided he had to talk to his priesthood leader, and so he went to see the president of the MTC.

In the moment Michael took those steps toward the president’s office, he began a journey of repentance and humility and hope. He took those steps because the words of Alma in Alma 42:30 had become a reality in his life:
O my son … let the justice of God, and his mercy, and his long-suffering have full sway in your heart; and let it bring you down to the dust in humility.[1]

In conclusion, I would like to share with you a personal experience I believe captures what we have talked about today. It began in January of 2001 on a Friday night. I was at home with Sue and we got a phone call from our stake president, Lloyd Baird. The call was about a young missionary named Michael, the same Michael I told you about at the beginning of my talk. Michael is our son.

President Baird told us Michael had to come home from his mission. And so, Michael came home.

Now, I can tell you Sue and I did not get off the phone with President Baird and say to each other: “We are about to have one of the most wonderful experiences of our lives.” But that is what happened. And it happened because the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ became a living reality in the life of our son.

Over the next nine months Michael went through the very difficult—but very sweet—process of repentance. He knew the Lord had forgiven him, but he also knew he needed to experience what Alma had experienced. He needed to be born of God, changed to a state of righteousness—a new creature through the mighty change of heart of which the scriptures speak. He needed to deepen his faith and his understanding of the gospel. He needed to be fully worthy to return to the House of the Lord; and he needed to be fully prepared to return to the mission field, there to serve the Lord with all his heart.

And so Michael set up a new life for himself. He got a job working at a local hospital. He set up regular visits with his bishop. He read and studied the scriptures. He prayed often seeking the Lord’s blessing. He sought to be of service and to be active in his ward.

The path was not easy. For example, Michael went to church with us the Sunday after he came home. He had just given a talk in sacrament meeting before he left on his mission, and now he had to explain to people why he was back so soon. But he faced his situation head-on with courage and candor.

During those months Michael met often with the bishop of our ward, Mark Ott. Bishop Ott was a great blessing to Michael. He counseled with him, encouraged him, and loved him. One day he asked Michael to give Sister Naomi Cranney a ride to and from church. Sister Cranney was ninety-seven years old. Every week when she was able to come, Michael would arrive at her home, help her down the steps into the car, drive her to church, help her get to the chapel, and sit with her during sacrament meeting. He would then take her home at the end of church. Sister Cranney had a wonderful spirit about her, and she grew to love Michael dearly. Over many weeks Michael was blessed to come to know and serve a great Latter-day Saint.

During this time Michael lived at home. He would often come into our bedroom at night and talk to us about his efforts. These months were Michael’s Gethsemane. He suffered, and he got discouraged. When discouragement set in, he would come into our room and ask for a blessing. I gave Michael many blessings during those months; and I knew through the Spirit that Michael was changing, that the Atonement was working in his life. Though the path was hard, the Savior was by his side.

And so it went, day after day, night after night for a long time. The dark night was long, but the morning light soon came. Sue and I were eyewitnesses to the miracle of the Atonement of Jesus Christ in the life of our precious son. The Savior reached out and took hold of that young man and changed him from the inside out. I will never forget the day Michael came home from his General Authority interview. He had gone to Pittsburgh to meet with Elder Spencer Condie. I picked him up at the airport. As he came off that airplane, he was radiant! The Spirit of the Lord shone brightly in his eyes.

Michael returned to the temple and to the mission field. His mission was not easy, but he served faithfully and well. He became a mighty elder in Israel. His knowledge of the gospel deepened, and his understanding of the Atonement increased. What began that week in January of 2001 continued through his time in British Columbia. And it continues today. He has come to know the Savior in a deep and powerful way through his own experience. I know the Atonement of Jesus Christ has full sway in his heart. And because he has “followed the Son, with full purpose of heart,” he has helped many others to feel the power of the Atonement in their lives.

Many years ago, before leaving to become president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, I had developed a friendship with a man by the name of Shelley, who lived in my ward but did not embrace the gospel, irrespective of the fact that his wife and children had done so. Shelley had been known as the toughest man in town when he was young. He was quite a pugilist. His fights were rarely in the ring but rather elsewhere. Try as I might, I could not bring about a change in Shelley’s attitude. The task appeared hopeless. In time, Shelley and his family moved from our ward.
After I had returned from Canada and was called to the Twelve, I received a telephone call from Shelley. He said, “Will you seal my wife and me and our family in the Salt Lake Temple?”
I answered hesitatingly, “Shelley, you first must be a baptized member of the Church.”
He laughed and responded, “Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. My home teacher was a school crossing guard, and every weekday as he and I would visit at the crossing, we would discuss the gospel.”
The sealings were performed; a family was united; joy followed.

John Taylor was also chosen early in life, and although he was a full ocean apart from the other Church leaders, the Lord was quietly working on him in such a way that he would eventually be brought into contact with the other apostles of the Church. When he was only sixteen years of age, John Taylor was moved upon in such a way that he spent many hours searching after the Lord, and the nearness of the Lord was often manifest to him. He wrote: “Often when alone, and sometimes in company, I heard sweet, soft, melodious music, as if performed by angelic or supernatural beings.” He saw, while still a small boy, an angel in the heavens with a trumpet to its mouth, sounding a message to the nations. (The significance of this vision should be evident to all members of the Church.) At seventeen he became a local preacher in the Methodist Church and one day, while traveling with a friend to a Methodist meeting, received a very strong impression that he was to go to America to preach. Nearly seven years later at age twenty-four, President Taylor embraced the Church at the hands of Parley P. Pratt, who had been called by special revelation to take the gospel to Toronto, Canada, where John Taylor was residing.

I know that from my own experience. I remember when I was a boy of 15 and we had been expelled from Mexico in the revolution. My folks went to Los Angeles from El Paso, Texas. I got a job there among a bunch of Mormon-haters, and I didn’t tell them that I was a Mormon. Sometime after that, President Joseph F. Smith came to Los Angeles and had dinner with my parents—a very humble dinner; I can remember that it was very scant. He put his hand on my head and said, “My boy, don’t ever be ashamed that you are a Mormon.”
You know, I have worried all my days that I didn’t have the courage to stand up to those ribald men.