Gospel Story Finder

When I was a teenager, I had the opportunity to travel with a school group to Germany. One evening, after a long day, a few friends and I asked our teacher if we could take the subway, known in Germany as the U-Bahn, to buy some snacks. He agreed, but not without caution. He gave us very specific instructions: which train to take, where to transfer, and which stop to exit. Then he added one critical warning: the trains would soon stop running for the night, so we needed to follow the plan exactly and not delay.
At first, everything went according to plan. We reached the station, found the convenience store, bought our snacks then headed back in the direction we came from. But a few stops in, we realized that none of the station names looked familiar. We checked the map; nothing matched. We got off, switched trains, rode a few more stops, but we were still on the wrong train.
That’s when the pressure set in.
Every delay mattered. Every wrong decision eliminated options. We knew that missing one correct connection could mean not making it back before the system shut down entirely.
We tried asking a ticket agent for help, but the language barrier was too great. So, we guessed again and got on another train. Within minutes, we realized we were still headed in the wrong direction. The clock was ticking and three young American girls were suddenly very aware of how little margin for error remained.
This was back before cell phones with GPS and international calling plans were a standard staple in a teenager’s pocket. If we didn’t get on the right train soon, we wouldn’t make it back at all.
In that moment of desperation, I quietly said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father for help. Almost immediately, a young man wearing a gray Ohio State sweatshirt stood up, walked straight to me, and said in perfect English, “Do you need help?” I had never been so relieved to hear someone speak English! I quickly explained our situation and showed him on the map where we were trying to go. He looked at it carefully and then said something I’ll never forget: “The trains are about to shut down. You must follow these steps exactly. One mistake, and you won’t make it back in time.”
He then laid out, in precise detail, two specific train changes—no alternates, no shortcuts, no substitutions. Every step depended on the one before it. We followed his instructions exactly, boarded the correct trains, made the exact transfers, and as we pulled into our final stop, the trains shut down for the night.
We made it!

Many years ago, after World War II, I was attending college. There I met Donna Smith. About that time I read that two essential ingredients to a successful marriage are a cookie and a kiss. I thought that was a pretty good balance.
I attended college in the morning and then went back to Brigham City to work in my father’s auto-repair garage in the afternoon. Donna’s last morning class was home economics. I stopped by her classroom before leaving. The door had a frosted glass window, but if I stood close to the glass, she could see my shadow outside. She would slip out with a cookie and a kiss. The rest is history. We were married in the Logan Utah Temple, and that began the great adventure of our lives.

It’s easy to say, “The time isn’t right.” But there is danger in procrastination. Years ago I worked for a man in California. He hired me, he was kind to me, he seemed to regard me highly. I may have been the only Latter-day Saint he ever knew well. I don’t know all the reasons I found to wait for a better moment to talk with him about the gospel. I just remember my feeling of sorrow when I learned, after he had retired and I lived far away, that he and his wife had been killed in a late-night drive to their home in Carmel, California. He loved his wife. He loved his children. He had loved his parents. He loved his grandchildren, and he will love their children and will want to be with them forever.

Now, I don’t know how the crowds will be handled in the world to come. But I suppose that I will meet him, that he will look into my eyes, and that I will see in them the question, “Hal, you knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

At this point Martin pleaded with Joseph for permission to take the manuscript to Palmyra to show his wife, Lucy, who quite understandably wanted to see some evidence of what was taking up so much of her husband’s time and treasure. Yet, after inquiring of the Lord, Joseph was told twice not to let Martin take the manuscript.6

Desperate to placate the skepticism and increasingly shrill demands of his wife, Martin badgered Joseph again. In agony, Joseph went to the Lord a third time. In response, the Lord told Joseph that Martin could take the manuscript if he would show it only to five designated people and then promptly return it. Reluctantly, Joseph gave the manuscript to him, but only after Martin signed a written covenant to do as the Lord had instructed.7

This began a cascade of events that would bring Joseph as low as anything that would ever happen to him. Shortly after Martin departed, Emma gave birth to a baby boy. She and Joseph named their first child Alvin, a comforting tribute to Joseph’s dearly departed brother, who had died five years earlier. Tragically, rather than fill a void, young Alvin enlarged it when he passed away the day of his birth, June 15, 1828.

As if that were not enough to bear, between the exhaustion of a long and intense labor and the emotional distress of losing her child, Emma moved perilously close to death herself. For two weeks Joseph worried over Emma, nursing her back to health even as he worked through his own grief over baby Alvin. When Emma finally showed signs of stabilizing health, Joseph’s thoughts turned to Martin and the manuscript.8

Sensing Joseph’s anxiety, Emma encouraged him to return to Palmyra to check on Martin and the manuscript. With a visible gloom, he took a stagecoach north. Unable to eat or sleep on the journey, Joseph made it to his parents’ home—still a good 20-mile (32 km) walk through the dead of night from where the stage let him off—only by the steadying hand of a worried fellow passenger (a “stranger”) who took pity on him. 9

After Joseph arrived and finally took a little nourishment, Martin was summoned. He was to join the Smiths for breakfast but did not show up until noon. Walking slowly, he stopped at the gate to the home, got on the fence, pulled his hat over his eyes, and just sat there.10

Finally, Martin made his way into the home. Without speaking a word, he took up his utensils to eat. But before taking a bite, he cried out, “Oh, I have lost my soul!”11

With this, Joseph jumped up and burst out: “Martin, have you lost that manuscript? [H]ave you broken your oath, and brought down condemnation upon my head, as well as your own?”

Martin somberly replied, “Yes, it is gone, and I know not where.”12 (Martin had shown the manuscript pages to others besides the five, “and by stratagem,” Joseph later recounted, “they were taken from him.”13)

Joseph exploded into a wail, crying out: “All is lost! [A]ll is lost! What shall I do? I have sinned—it is I who tempted the wrath of God.” With this, “sobs and groans, and the most bitter lamentations filled the house,” Joseph showing the greatest distress of them all.14

The translation work ceased for a season, and the plates and interpreters were taken from Joseph until September 22—a poignant reminder of his earlier probational period. He also suffered this stern rebuke from the Lord:

“And behold, how oft you have transgressed the commandments and the laws of God, and have gone on in the persuasions of men.
“For, behold, you should not have feared man more than God. Although men set at naught the counsels of God, and despise his words—
“Yet you should have been faithful; and he would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble” (D&C 3:6–8).

Imagine the difficulty of receiving such a revelation. Joseph had just lost his firstborn son. He had nearly lost his wife. And his decision to give Martin the manuscript was driven by an earnest desire to help a friend who was helping him in a sacred work. Yes, however distraught Joseph was, and however dependent upon Martin Harris he thought he was, he had missed one thing God fully expects of His disciples: always trust in the arm of the Lord and not in the arm of the flesh. To Joseph’s everlasting credit, he learned this lesson in such a deep and profound way that he never made the mistake again and, not long after again receiving the plates and interpreters, he began a pace of religious contribution the likes of which the world had not seen since the personal ministry of Jesus Christ. Starting in the spring of 1829, now with Oliver Cowdery at his side, Joseph translated an astonishing 588 pages of the Book of Mormon in what was, at most, 65 working days.15 This is truly blinding speed when compared with his previous efforts. It is also instructive to note that the translation of the King James Bible took 47 trained scholars, working in languages they already knew, seven years to complete.16

When it came time to plan youth conference, leaders of a stake in northern Utah, USA, asked the youth what they thought would make it memorable.
After some discussion, their answer was simple: “We want to serve!” They decided they wanted to make a difference where they live. They wanted to help the hungry and the homeless, the lonely and the elderly. They also wanted to hold workshops in which professionals could help people struggling with serious issues like suicide and depression.
They adopted the theme, “You Love, You Serve.” And during the three-day youth conference, they did just that.
The youth served in a food bank and sorted canned food donations.
Photographs by Richard M. Romney
Along with sorting food, youth also built benches for a homeless shelter.
“Knowing that Jesus Christ served those around Him makes me feel like I’m emulating the Savior,” said Stephen J., 13. “Taking His name upon me, that’s what’s great about being able to serve others—we’re being like Jesus, and that’s who I want to be like the most.”
For another service project, the youth prepared hygiene kits for a homeless shelter for youth.
Some of the youth spent the afternoon cleaning up trash and weeding gardens in a community park.
“When I went to school in the school next door, this park was totally trashed. It’s been that way for a long time,” said Karlos S., 12. “And now we’re the ones who actually cleaned it up. I’ll always have that feeling that it was amazing to clean something up as we did the work of the Lord.”
“It would have been hard to weed this whole place all by yourself,” said Glenn B., 13. “But when we worked at it together, we got it all done in a couple of hours. Look what we did together. That’s pretty cool.”
The youth wanted to put on a talent show where seniors were the guests of honor.
In addition to the talent shows, youth also asked seniors what their wishes were. On the night of the talent show, several seniors had their wishes granted. One man simply wanted a pizza. Another wanted Mexican food.
On the last day of the youth conference, a Superhero 5-K run was held to raise money to help the homeless.
“Serving together got us into different types of groups, and that helped us to get to know new people,” said Rosemary A., 13. “And that’s part of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to get to know other people. It’s nice to work side-by-side to help others, to give instead of just always receiving.”
Throughout their conference, the youth learned something marvelous about their theme. “You Love, You Serve” works like a cycle—your love for the Lord causes you to serve others as He would. Then as you serve, your love for Him and for others grows, and so does your desire to serve.

I lay awake under the wagon with my dog, Swisher, close by. Once in a while I could hear Ma moving restlessly in the wagon bed above me. I wondered if it was because Ma was hungry too.
Thinking about it brought a lump to my throat and an even deeper feeling of emptiness to my stomach. She had given me her share of the thin flour soup that had been passed around the small circle of wagons at sunup. I had gulped it down before I learned it was the last of our food until relief wagons from Salt Lake were to reach us.
I planned to stay awake until the relief wagons rolled in. I would be the first in line to get Ma a share of food. And maybe there would be something for Swisher too.
When Swisher began to growl softly, I listened for the sound of wagons. Suddenly Swisher leaped to his feet, staring into the half-light night. My heart pounded.
“Shush your dog, Sam,” a voice whispered. “It’s me, Dirkin.”
Dirkin!
I didn’t much like Dirkin. He had kicked at Swisher more than once. I raised up on one elbow and put an arm over Swisher’s neck. His growl settled to a nervous rumble in his throat.
“What are you doing here, Dirkin?”
“I’m going after some wheat.”
“Wheat?”
“Shhh!” Dirkin cautioned. “Folks say old man Crowley has a whole sack of it. He keeps it hidden in the daytime and sleeps on it at night.”
I had heard about Brother Crowley’s wheat. “That’s for planting when we reach the valley,” I told Dirkin. “He doesn’t even eat any of it himself.”
“Yeah? Well that wheat should belong to all of us. I don’t aim to starve while he has it handy.”
“Brother Crowley wouldn’t let anyone starve clean to death. Anyway, the relief wagons are on the way. That rider who passed through camp this morning brought the word.”
“I only aim to fill my pockets,” Dirkin whispered. “It’ll be easy. Old man Crowley is at that meeting the men are having over at the main campfire.” Then in a warning voice, he added as he turned to go, “Keep your dog quiet!”
I felt sick. What Dirkin intended to do was wrong. I wished he hadn’t told me. Somehow, just knowing about it made me feel guilty.
“He’s lots bigger than I am,” I reasoned to my dog. “He’s older, too, and mean. Remember how he kicked at you for no reason?”
Swisher licked my hand. Then he wiggled out from under the wagon, and I followed. I only intended to sneak along behind Dirkin, but when I saw him moving through the half-darkness, something made me holler out. “Dirkin!”
He lunged at me. I felt his fist hit me in the eye, and I yelped. It hurt. I dove at his legs, and we tumbled to the dirt. I aimed a fist at Dirkin’s eye. He turned his head, but not fast enough.
Swisher barked and growled and jumped around us. In spite of the hurting, I felt pleasure in knowing that the noise would spoil Dirkin’s plans.
“Hey now—what’s going on here?”
I knew it was Brother Crowley even before he lifted me off Dirkin’s back.
“What’s this rumpus all about?”
My mouth was full of dirt, and I kept busy spitting it out so I wouldn’t have to say anything. I couldn’t rightly tell Brother Crowley. Dirkin wasn’t about to explain, either.
“All right, if you’re not talking, I guess the best thing is to keep you fellows separated until morning so that the rest of us can get some sleep.”
He lifted me by my galluses (suspenders) and pushed me toward his wagon. “Up against the wheel, Sam. Sit tight until daylight. I’ll put young Dirkin up against the other wheel. … Well, look at that! He’s slipped away.”
My back was sore where Dirkin had pounded me. I leaned enough away from the wagon wheel that my back wouldn’t touch it. My stomach hurt more, and I rubbed at it. I wanted to get back to my bed. Maybe if I told Brother Crowley. …
“Brother Crowley,” I began, “about the wheat you have …”
“Good wheat for planting.” It was as though he read my mind. “When those relief wagons head back to Salt Lake, I’m going along to get it planted.”
“I hope those wagons hurry,” I said.
“Hungry, are you? Well, I’m a mite hungry myself. But we can stand it a few more hours, can’t we, Sam?”
I hoped I could. And I hoped Ma could. I was glad when he added, “You may as well go roll up in your own blankets, Sam. No need sitting here without young Dirkin to talk to.”
I wasted no time getting back to my bed, but I couldn’t sleep. My eye was puffed up and hurting.
I was awake when the relief wagons pulled into camp near first light. I heard the shouting and the laughter and the welcoming. Out of one eye, I saw Ma running to join the crowd. Even Swisher left me to follow.
I pulled Ma’s old patchwork quilt up over my face. I wondered what she would say when she saw my eye.
“Hey, Sam!”
Dirkin again!
I threw off the quilt, rolled out from under the wagon, and jumped up with my fists doubled. Dirkin blinked at me, and I almost laughed. He had a swollen eye too.
“I brought you something.” What he handed me was tied up in a cloth. I could tell by the feel of it—wheat!
“Dirkin, you didn’t—”
“Nope,” he said with a grin. “Old man Crowley sent it. It’s sort of a reward.”
I stared at Dirkin, trying to puzzle it out.
“I told him. He said to make it right I’d have to go with him when the relief wagons leave and guard his wheat.”
“Guard it?”
“Yeah—I’m going to help get it safely to Salt Lake, then help him plant it.” He paused. “Sorry I kicked at your dog, Sam.” With that he left.
All of a sudden I didn’t mind the smarting, swollen eye he had given me. “Dirkin,” I called after him, “see you in Salt Lake.”

Brother Johnson concluded with this last experience: “On another occasion when I was in Iraq, I was assigned to transport about 150 enemy insurgents who had been captured to a detention center. We got on a military plane, and the insurgents were handcuffed and sitting on the floor of the plane because they had taken all the seats out. During the flight, through my headphones, I listened to some talks from the general conference that I had downloaded. At that moment, although I was in the middle of a war, surrounded by people who wanted to harm me, listening to the voice of the prophet, I could feel God’s love and feel an intense personal peace.”

My second story centers around Great-Uncle Grover, who lived in a house out in the country, far from the city. Uncle Grover was getting very old. We thought our sons should meet him before he died. So, one afternoon, we took a long drive to his humble house. We sat together to visit and introduce him to our sons. Not long into the conversation, our two young boys, maybe five and six years old, wanted to go outside and play.
Uncle Grover, hearing their request, bent over with his face in theirs. His face was so weathered and unfamiliar that the boys were a little scared of him. He said to them, in his gravelly voice, “Be careful—there are a lot of skunks out there.” Hearing this, Lesa and I were more than startled; we were worried that they might get sprayed by a skunk! The boys soon went outside to play as we continued to visit.
Later, when we got in the car to go home, I inquired of the boys, “Did you see a skunk?” One of them replied, “No, we didn’t see any skunks, but we did see a black kitty cat with a white stripe on its back!”

A German family once came to see a show and fell in love with the whole cast. The father discovered the group was Mormon when he gave Brother Benson a bottle of champagne to help celebrate a successful performance, and, of course, he wanted to know more. The family took all the players to dinner, and they responded by turning West Yellowstone upside down in order to find a German Book of Mormon for the family. At last report the family was investigating the Church in Germany.

Before they began practicing for their road show a few years ago, the youth of the Parker Ward set aside a day to fast and pray. To people who have been in a road show before, that may not seem such a strange thing to do, but they weren’t fasting in hopes of making the best use of their talents, and they weren’t praying for the road show to get canceled.
The road show participants were praying for help and guidance in making the road show a way to build testimonies. Little did they know it would build the testimony of someone who was not yet a member of the Church, and would introduce her to the scriptures.
Lindsay Thiess, a Laurel at the time, invited Roxanne McHugh (who wasn’t LDS) to be in the road show with her.
“We wanted to have the road show be a missionary experience,” says Lindsay. “I knew Roxanne would have a good time doing the show.”
Lindsay was right. Roxanne did have a good time. She also started getting curious about the story she was acting out.
“The story of the road show was about the Brother of Jared. One night after road show practice, I went home and found this Book of Mormon that my brother had ordered from an ad on television when he was 11 because he could get it for free!” says Roxanne. “I read the story of the Brother of Jared, and after that the road show meant a lot more; it started to make sense.”
That complimentary Book of Mormon, delivered to Roxanne’s house three years earlier and put on a shelf, sparked an interest in the gospel that Roxanne couldn’t deny.
“I prayed and knew the Church was right, and I knew that I needed to invite my parents to come to the play,” says Roxanne.
Roxanne’s parents had the same good feeling after watching the road show, and soon Roxanne, her younger brother, Courtney, and both her parents were baptized. One year later Roxanne and Courtney were sealed to their parents in the temple for time and all eternity.
It was a miracle. The miracle all the youth of the Parker Ward, Willow Creek Colorado Stake, had prayed for.
And the miracle continues every day for the McHughs as they read the scriptures, grow in the gospel, and share their testimonies with their nonmember family and friends. Strange as it may seem, Roxanne gained a personal connection to the scriptures while she was singing songs with made-up words and wearing an old sheet dyed and sewed to look like Jaredite apparel. Roxanne learned to really know the people of the scriptures, which helped her know that the gospel was true.
“I have learned to love the scriptures,” says Roxanne, “and that has changed my life.”

I grew up in Salt Lake City, Utah, and at the age of 16, my dad received a job transfer to Miami, Florida. I had to leave my friends, my school, and everything I knew and move to the other side of the United States. The weather was different, the culture was different; I felt like a fish out of water. My first day of school in Miami was one of the scariest days of my life. Here I was in another state, and I didn’t know anyone but my family, and they weren’t there to help me. I was alone and scared, but I remember praying to make it through each class and each day. Just so you know, I didn’t have a cell phone back then to just text my friends back home. The only way to call them was by long distance, which was expensive, so I couldn’t call my friends very often. We also didn’t have Facebook to just reach out and see what people were doing. It was a very hard time in my life. Slowly, day by day, I made new friends and Miami became my new home. In fact, after high school, I met the love of my life, and we were married and all three of our boys were born in Miami.

In the end my parents passed the baton to us of the next generation. And in our final days and hours together they provided a capstone on all of their sermons on love in two simple experiences.

The day before Dad died, we invited each person in the family to have a walk-through visit with him, quick and tender. He was in so much pain. But he hid that from view, as he focused on each individual and expressed his love and admiration and hopes for them, as he had always done. The power of that visit has lingered in the hearts of his posterity. Then as I sat by his side the next day, his final, silent message to me was a hand-squeeze, not powerful physically, but a squeeze that spoke of a perfect love that will endure forever.

Like many people, Elder DeMoine and Sister Joyce Findlay knew little of the disease until they were called as a missionary couple to help coordinate the Church’s involvement with the Measles Initiative in Ivory Coast. The Measles Initiative is a movement to immunize 200 million children in Africa sponsored by the Red Cross, UNICEF, CDC, WHO, and other agencies.
During their service, the Findlays witnessed the members in Ivory Coast volunteer by the hundreds, working long days to ensure the success of the campaign. Church members with medical training helped at vaccination sites, others knocked on countless doors to promote the campaign through education, and still more helped to gather families and children together. Even Primary children helped by submitting drawings for the campaigns. By contributing to the remarkable turnout, the Saints hoped to “show President Hinckley that they would do their best to support this unique opportunity.”
Still, providing the life-saving medicine was no easy task. Due to civil unrest, all full-time foreign missionaries, including Elder and Sister Findlay, were evacuated in November 2004 before they could complete their initial campaign. The campaign was postponed until August 2005, at which time they returned to finish the job.
This time Elder and Sister Findlay met with the partnering agencies to determine their needs and to identify ways in which the Church could best use its funds and resources. It was decided that the Church would support the Measles Initiative by providing volunteers; producing printed materials such as posters, fliers, and stickers; and supplying the Red Cross with megaphones, uniforms, and batteries. The Ministry of Health was enthusiastic about the Church’s participation and designated it an official partner in the campaign, announcing on television all the contributions the Church made.
From there, Elder and Sister Findlay set out to help organize the campaign. Ten-year-old Roseline Dekaye’s artwork was chosen to be featured on the printed materials. Her drawing was also used in both the Tanzania and Malawi campaigns.
Working under the direction of stake presidents in the area, Elder and Sister Findlay recruited the regional welfare committee as their working group. This committee coordinated volunteers from every one of the 23 wards and branches in Ivory Coast.
One of the main responsibilities of the member volunteers was to ensure that the general population knew where vaccination sites were located. To do so, many were up at 6:30 a.m. knocking on doors, educating their neighbors about the dangers of measles, and inviting them to bring their children to get vaccinated. They often took the time to physically show the people where to go, at times bringing groups to the vaccination site. The full-time missionaries wanted to help as well, so they stuck campaign stickers on their bags and encouraged their contacts to take their children to be vaccinated.
Hundreds of vaccination sites were set up in the capital city of Abidjan alone, with locations including health units, the village chief’s home, and a parking lot. Some sites were just small plastic-covered shelters beside the road.
During the first few days the people came in masses. Children filled the lines—some were accompanied by parents, but most came on their own. When the people stopped coming to the fixed vaccination sites, the teams gathered up their materials and walked through busy markets and neighborhoods looking for unvaccinated children to vaccinate on the spot.
With the help of more than 700 Church members, the measles campaign in Ivory Coast was a huge success. Vaccinating nearly 8 million children, workers met 87 percent of their goal in a country so politically divided that 50 percent is considered a good campaign success rate.
In all, members donated 40,000 hours of volunteer labor. They could be seen everywhere wearing their colorful badges, and they became quite popular and well known. In all but one of the health districts, members were the only mobilization volunteers. The health districts were grateful for their help and asked if they could contact the Church for help in future campaigns.

My father was like that. He was a scientist. He lectured to audiences in countries around the world. Once I read a talk he had given to a large scientific convention. In it he referred to creation and a Creator as he talked about his science. I knew that few, if any, in that audience would have shared his faith. So I said to him with wonder and admiration, “Dad, you bore your testimony.” He looked at me with surprise on his face and said, “Did I?”
He had not even known that he was being brave. He simply said what he knew was true. When he bore testimony, even those who rejected it knew it came not by design but because it was part of him. He was what he was, wherever he was.

Ali looked glumly at her tithing jar. Every time she earned money, she divided it into a jar for tithing, a jar for savings, and a jar for spending money. She had worked hard helping a neighbor stack firewood and pull weeds, but her older sister Carrie had tended the neighbors’ dog and worked picking raspberries for a whole week during the summer. Carrie had earned more money, and her tithing jar showed it.
Today the family would be attending tithing settlement and discussing whether or not they had each paid a full tithe that year. Before church, Ali watched Carrie pour her money into a tithing envelope and fill out the slip. Ali tried not to cry when she counted out her own tithing, but tears burned the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want the Lord to be disappointed in her for paying less. Maybe she could ask her parents for a little extra money to put in her tithing envelope.
Timidly, she crept into the den where Dad was reading.
Dad looked up and motioned for Ali to come and sit on his lap. “Tell me what’s on your mind,” he said.
Ali bravely held the tears back. “Daddy, is my tithing too small?” she asked in nearly a whisper. “I earned $22.50 this year, so I only have $2.25 in tithing to give the bishop today. Carrie has way more than I do. Will Jesus or the bishop be mad at me?”
Dad smiled and looked into her eyes. “Ali, tithing is one-tenth of what we earn. Carrie did a lot of different jobs over the summer. She worked hard for what she earned, don’t you think?”
Ali remembered Carrie coming home from picking raspberries, looking tired and a little sunburned. She also remembered Carrie taking care of the Hamiltons’ dog. Ali nodded.
“You also worked really hard for your money,” Dad said. “Those pieces of firewood that you stacked were heavy and hurt your hands. You were even more tired after you weeded the garden. Isn’t that right?”
Ali easily remembered how heavy her arms had felt carrying all those huge pieces of wood, and how her hands had stung when she washed them after pulling weeds. She had worked hard.
“Ali,” Dad said, “it doesn’t matter to the Lord how much money a person earns as long as he or she works honestly for the money. Then He asks us to give back to Him just one-tenth of what we earned. It doesn’t matter if we earned a lot or a little, as long as we give 10 percent to the bishop.”
“So the bishop will be happy with both me and Carrie even though we have different amounts of tithing?” Ali asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “And Heavenly Father and Jesus will be pleased too.”
Ali could hardly speak because she was so happy. It all made sense. As long as she obeyed the commandments, the Lord would be happy with her. Now she could give the bishop $2.25 and feel just right about it in her heart.

My grandparents Lena Sofia and Matts Leander Renlund received God’s power through their baptismal covenant when they joined the Church in 1912 in Finland. They were happy to be part of the first branch of the Church in Finland.

Leander died from tuberculosis five years later when Lena was pregnant with their tenth child. That child, my father, was born two months after Leander’s death. Lena eventually buried not just her husband but also seven of her ten children. As an impoverished widow, she struggled. For 20 years she did not get a good night’s rest. During the day, she scrambled to provide food for her family. At night, she took care of dying family members. It is hard to imagine how she coped.

Lena persevered because she knew that her deceased husband and children could be hers through the eternities. The doctrine of temple blessings, including that of eternal families, brought her peace because she trusted in the sealing power. While in mortality, she neither received her endowment nor was she sealed to Leander, but Leander remained a vital influence in her life and part of her great hope for the future.

In 1938, Lena submitted records so that temple ordinances could be performed for her deceased family members, some of the earliest submitted from Finland. After she died, temple ordinances were performed by others for her, Leander, and her deceased children. By proxy, she was endowed, Lena and Leander were sealed to each other, and their deceased children and my father were sealed to them. Like others, Lena “died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, … [was] persuaded of them, and embraced them.”

Lena lived as though she had already made these covenants in her life. She knew that her baptismal and sacramental covenants connected her to the Savior. She “let the sweet longing for [the Redeemer’s] holy place bring hope to [her] desolate heart.” Lena considered it one of God’s great mercies that she learned about eternal families before experiencing the tragedies in her life. Through covenant, she received the power of God to endure and rise above the depressive pull of her challenges and hardships.

In 2016, when the Brazzaville Republic of Congo Stake launched its first self-reliance classes, many of the Relief Society sisters in the stake signed up to attend. The 12-week course provided the sisters with economic empowerment and paved a path for them to become spiritually self-reliant. “Temporal autonomy and spiritual autonomy go hand in hand,” said Lucia M. Boyembé, one of the participants.
Boyembé, a graduate student and an entrepreneur at heart, already owned a small business when she started the self-reliance course. The class taught her how to build a strong foundation for her business as well as bookkeeping skills. She began keeping separate records of her personal and business accounts and setting aside money in a savings account. “When I started my business of selling feminine products, I offered credit loans to my clients and they wouldn’t pay me back,” explained Boyembé. The self-reliance course taught her to ask God specific questions about her business. “I prayed to God to know what I needed to do, and He revealed to me that I needed to pay my tithing.” Boyembé said that after she began paying her tithing regularly, her clients began to pay back their loans, and her business started to flourish. As a result, Boyembé gained a testimony of the spiritual and temporal importance of the law of tithing.

Among the friends I made in the theater business was a fine man who was a great success as the star of his own network television show. He was also an outstanding business man. Through our association over the years, we had many interesting experiences. One special experience stands out in my mind as a personal example to me that what the Lord said to Hyrum really does apply today.

This story began when my friend and I had an occasion to fly to Mexico with two very wealthy friends of his in a private, executive jet that was owned by one of the two men. The arrangements were that I was to fly from Salt Lake City to join the others at the Los Angeles Airport. I boarded their jet, and we began our flight to Mexico. On board I was introduced to a man who is reported to be one of the most wealthy men in the world. His personal net worth was estimated at that time to be in excess of 2 billion dollars! The seating arrangement within the executive jet was such that four seats were grouped in one compartment, and we were invited to sit with this wealthy man. As I look back on this experience, it is somewhat amusing to me that in my humble circumstances I would have been sitting with two millionaires and one billionaire.

As the jet took off from the Los Angeles International Airport, the conversation became most interesting to me. These three wealthy executives spent the first little while talking about the various multi-million dollar business deals in which they had recently been involved. I must admit that I sat in wonderment as I listened to their conversation, but as time went on, it became progressively more apparent to me that the most important thing in the life of the billionaire was his desire to make and accumulate more and more money. I studied very carefully the billionaire’s attitude and philosophy of life as he talked to us. He seemed to me to have found great power with his wealth, and money was certainly the center of everything that was important to him. He discussed his vast, worldwide financial empire and earthly possessions.

By the time we landed at our destination, it had become abundantly clear to me that the billionaire, with all of his wealth, was really a most unhappy and spiritually deprived man. During the conversation I had learned that he had no children of his own. He had no definite faith in God and no positive assurance of hope for a life after death. He seemed to me to epitomize the words of the Savior when He said:
“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:
“But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal:
“For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” (Matt. 6:19–21.)

We completed our business in Mexico and again boarded the jet to return to Los Angeles. Upon our arrival I bade these three men good-bye and boarded a commercial flight to return to my home in Salt Lake City. During the flight I had time to ponder what had taken place during the past two days. When I walked into my home, my wife Barbara greeted me, and her first question to me was, “How did the meetings go?” My response to her question was, “Honey, we may not have very much money, but I do know this—of the four men aboard that plane, I was by far the richest man of them all because I was the only one who knew where I came from, why I am here on this earth, and where I can go in the eternities to come if I am faithful.”

My wife and I discussed this experience, and as we did, again the words of the Lord seemed to ring clearly in my mind. He said:
“No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon.
“Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?
“But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:24–25, 33.)

The billionaire, with all of his hundreds of millions of dollars, cannot buy what comes to members of the Church freely when we accept and live the teachings of the gospel. How blessed we are as a people! How rich we are individually because of our knowledge that we, in fact, do possess the eternal truths of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Just imagine—the most valuable treasure a man can have in this life comes freely, without monetary price, to all men everywhere when they embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ and live its teachings.

I am grateful for this unusual experience because I now understand more clearly than ever before that the most important asset one can have in this life is the personal, inner peace and positive assurance that come in knowing that the purpose of this life is for men to learn how to prepare for eternal living in the presence of our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. The billionaire will not take one cent of his wealth with him when he dies, and perhaps only then will he realize that the greatest possession a man can obtain is the knowledge that humble service to our fellowmen, love of family, and knowledge of eternal truths make a man rich. As the Lord said to Hyrum, “Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich.” [D&C 11:7]

This past summer at the Nauvoo Aaronic Priesthood Encampment, special missionary preparation workshops were held. Bishops conducted these sessions with their Aaronic Priesthood. Every young man was given his own missionary preparation book. Two thousand young men participated in this activity.
A bishop reported that one young man would not get involved. He lazed on the grass a few feet from the group. He would occasionally laugh or seem to make fun. He would not participate, as he had no intention of serving a mission. Around a campfire that night, during a testimony meeting, this young man stood up and began to talk. He said, “This morning I did not participate in the missionary preparation workshops, but I was listening, I was listening. I have been thinking, thinking a lot.” Then, with great emotion he said, “I have made a decision to go on a mission.”

Similar stories could be repeated for nearly every branch in the German Democratic Republic. For example, in Leipzig, in the south central part of the republic, when members had to vacate the remodeled building where they had been meeting, the branch was given permission to remodel an old movie theater. The members worked on the project for many months. In 1968, as they were planning a beautiful dedication service, branch president Herbert Schreiter was informed by the city authorities that the building was to be condemned and could no longer be used. The only reason given was that the branch had not followed all the building requirements. Eventually, however, members were able to regain permission to use their newly remodeled chapel.