Gospel Story Finder

Thump! went the backpack on the living room end table. “Put your bag in your room, Petey!” Mother said as she rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her smile faded as she noticed Peter’s somber face. “Are you OK?”
“I guess so.” Peter shrugged as he hung his coat on a hook by the door.
“Then why the glum face? Did you have a fight with Justin?”
“Well, no … It’s just that whenever I ask him to come to Primary with me, he says he’s too busy or has stuff to do or something. Why can’t I make him come? Primary is so cool!”
“Let’s sit down a minute,” Mother said, heading for the couch. She tossed the towel onto the end table next to Peter’s backpack. “Do you remember the eleventh article of faith?” she asked when they were seated. “I think that’s one you’ve already learned.”
“Hmmm, let me think.”
“‘We claim the privilege …’” she started him off.
“Oh, yeah! I remember now. That’s the one that says ‘how, where, or what they may.’”
“That’s right! It says, ‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship …’”
“‘how, where, or what they may!’” Peter finished proudly.
“That’s very good, Petey. But do you know what it means?”
Peter began to fidget on the couch.
Mother smiled thoughtfully. “Let me see if I can help. Remember last week, when Dad was out of town and we had that snowstorm?”
“Do I ever! We had to shovel the walks and driveway before school. It was a lot of work. And then the neighbor kids wanted to walk through the snow, so they tromped across our lawn, instead! What a waste of time!” Peter shook his head, remembering the footprints across the front lawn.
“Well, no it wasn’t,” Mother corrected gently. “Because our walks were clear, it was easy to get the car out to take you to school.”
“OK, OK.” Peter’s nose wrinkled slightly. “I still don’t get what that has to do with the eleventh article of faith—or Justin.”
“Well, we worked hard to clear a path in the snow—that’s what we wanted to do. It was important to us. But the neighborhood children chose to walk in the snow, instead—because that’s what was important to them. Right?”
“Right,” Peter said. “So what?”
“Well, you want Justin to go to Primary on Sunday because it’s important to you, right?”
“Oh. I think I get it,” Peter said slowly. “Even though I choose to go to Primary, that doesn’t mean that Justin has to, right?”
Mother smiled. “That’s right. Heavenly Father has given us a very precious gift called agency. It is the right to choose and act for ourselves. We can’t force someone to follow the same path we choose to follow. However, while you need to let Justin have his agency, it’s also very good for you to love him and be his friend. You can keep showing Justin the ‘clear path’ that’s important to you. And maybe—just maybe—he’ll want to follow it one day.”
As Peter grabbed his backpack and headed up the stairs, he turned and smiled. “I’m glad I have my agency so I can choose to go to Primary.”

For example, our granddaughter Miranda is very motivated to grow spiritually by participating in daily early-morning seminary classes. She became interested by hearing positive comments from other seminary students in her ward. Her mother does not have to wake her up for class. On her own, she is up and connected by videoconference at the appointed time of 6:20 in the morning because she has developed good habits that help her to do so. My own parents told me recently that Miranda now talks more when she visits them, as she has grown in self-confidence. These are lessons for life and growth with noticeable outcomes.

A few nights after his baptism, a mob of white men came to the house where he was staying and called out for him. “We just want to talk to you,” they said. In their hands were rifles and shotguns.
Len stepped outside. He was a Black man in the American South, where armed mobs sometimes enforced racial segregation with violence. They could injure or kill him on the spot and may never have to answer for their crime.
Someone in the mob demanded to know why Len had joined the Latter-day Saints. It was legal for Blacks and whites to worship together in Alabama, but the state also had a strict set of segregation laws and unwritten social codes to keep the races separate in public settings. Since nearly every Latter-day Saint in Alabama was white, the mob saw Len’s baptism as a challenge to the region’s deeply rooted color line.2
“So, you went over to the waters and learned a few things,” the man continued, referring to Len’s army service. “Now you want to join the whites.”
“I was investigating the Church long before I went to war,” Len finally said. “I found it was the only true church on earth. That is why I joined it.”
“We want you to go and have your name scratched off the record,” the mob said. “If not, we will hang you up to a limb and shoot you full of holes.”
The next morning, Len attended a conference of fellow Saints in the area and told them about the mob’s threat. He knew he was taking a risk by coming to the meeting, but he was willing to die for his newfound faith.
“Brother Hope, we could not scratch your name off if we tried to,” Church members reassured him. “Your name is in Salt Lake City and also written in heaven.” Many of them offered to help Len if the mob ever came after him again.3
But the mob never returned. Len soon married a woman named Mary Pugh in 1920, and they moved to Birmingham, a large city in central Alabama. Mary’s uncle, a Baptist pastor, predicted that she would join the Church before the year was over.
Mary read the Book of Mormon and gained a testimony of its truth. It took a little longer than predicted, but after five years of marriage she decided to join the Church. On September 15, 1925, the Hopes went with two missionaries to a secluded spring near Birmingham. Mary was baptized without incident, finally becoming a Latter-day Saint, like her husband.4
“I couldn’t be anything better,” she told her uncle, “and I can see no better church.”
Mary and Len became friends with Elder Marion D. Hanks when he was serving a mission in Cincinnati, Ohio. He was one of the missionaries who went to their home to give them the sacrament.

More than once I have heard priesthood leaders say that they had been inspired to go to someone in need, only to find the visiting teacher or the home teacher had already been there. My wife, who is here with me tonight, is an example. We had a bishop once who said to me, “You know, it bothers me—when I get an inspiration to go to someone, your wife has already been there.” Your faith will grow as you serve the Lord in caring for Heavenly Father’s children as the Lord’s teacher to their home. You will have your prayers answered. You will come to know for yourself that He lives, that He loves us, and that He sends inspiration to those with even the beginnings of faith in Him and with the desire to serve Him in His Church.

In one ward a Relief Society president seemed to understand these responsibilities. In a regular weekly ward welfare services committee meeting she reported that an elderly widow was having trouble coping with life after the recent loss of her husband. Her health was waning, her legs were causing her problems and limiting her ability to move about and care for herself. She was understandably very lonely and also worried about her neglected garden. Considerable concern was expressed about her poor diet. The ward Relief Society president explained that compassionate service assignments had been made to the visiting teachers and to other sisters in the ward to help her plan and prepare three balanced meals each day and to organize and do such needed housework as the sister would permit. The home teachers agreed to ask her if she would like them to give her a special blessing. They also said they would keep up her garden and look for other ways to be helpful.
After several weeks, as a result of the blessing and the loving help, she gained courage and a desire to be self-sustaining.
This story illustrates how the ward welfare services committee can work together to meet the needs of ward members.

As the girls join together in various groups, one of the groups appears isolated from the others. It is a small group of American girls whose parents work or are stationed temporarily in Italy. They don’t speak Italian, and they are not familiar with some of the everyday customs that come naturally to the Italian girls. They feel awkward. The Italian girls huddle together, then walk over to the Americans and tell them about an experience they had at a Church-sponsored event in Florence last year. “One of the members of our group did not speak Italian, so we decided to go through a whole day without speaking, using only hand signs. When the day ended, we all felt much closer to each other.” Soon both Americans and Italians are talking and singing together. It is a beginning.

My four-year-old niece Mollie was playing at her grandmother’s house one day when she asked if she could cross the street to visit a favorite aunt. Mollie was cautioned to look carefully both ways before crossing. Always an inquisitive child, she questioned this procedure, so her grandmother replied, “You could easily get hit by a car, and I love you so much I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Before long Mollie was back. “You lied to me! You said I would get hit by a car if I didn’t look both ways. Well, I closed my eyes and ran over and back and a car didn’t hit me!”
Just as a loving grandmother cautioned a four-year-old child to look both ways before crossing a street, a loving Father in Heaven has given us detailed instructions to ensure our happiness and safe arrival at our ultimate destination. Yet we often question the consequences, or think we can get away with taking chances, so we close our eyes to some of God’s commandments and cross the street of life. At such times it appears that we might not get hurt if we obey only some of God’s laws. But the Lord has said, “Keep my commandments.” He didn’t say, “Look this list over and pick out what you think applies,” or “Try to work on part of these some of the time.” His instructions were simple, yet direct and unqualified—“Keep my commandments.”
My four-year-old granddaughter Jordan asks “why” after almost everything I say. I realize her need to understand and I explain as much as possible. But there are occasions when no amount of explaining can penetrate her level of understanding. And so it is with us. Our mortal minds are limited. How tedious it must become when we continue to question what we cannot comprehend. Often the consequences from our actions are not immediately visible and our obedience requires some faith. Elder Neal A. Maxwell has said, “Obedience, among other things, provides us with a grace period. During this period, we go forward out of a sense of duty, doing what we should do before we have all the answers as to why” (Meek and Lowly, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987, p. 114).
Many of us wish we could counsel with the Lord concerning situations in our lives. What we sometimes fail to realize is that we can! We have been given personalized counsel in the form of a perfect road map detailed specifically for us in ancient scripture and modern-day revelation. Just tune in to general conference, and you will be astounded at the solutions to your own problems that you will hear from the Lord’s chosen leaders.
We have also been given the ultimate model. The Savior’s life is the perfect example for us to follow. And if our footsteps falter, because of the Atonement, and through our own repentance, we are welcomed back to the pathway of righteousness.
Tucked inside our own personal road map, we have been given a promise concerning our willingness to follow the commandments of the Lord. We are told that the Lord is bound when we do what he says. And then, we are given a caution. When we do not what he says, we have no promise. (See D&C 82:8–10.)
It is pretty clear, isn’t it? We cannot afford to be selectively obedient. We must be steadfastly obedient. In the Doctrine and Covenants, we are told, “When we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:21).
If we are willing to put our trust in the Lord and keep his commandments, we have been promised that we will be blessed. The blessing might not come in the form of straight A’s, having a date every Friday night, or inheriting a lot of money. But we will grow in capacity, experiencing joy along the way as we keep more and more of the commandments and eventually become prepared for a celestial existence.
The catch in all of this is that our level of obedience determines the outcome. Whether we are studying music or microbiology, we all know that success hinges on how thoroughly we study or how hard we practice. Does it really surprise us that God operates in this same cause-and-effect manner?
Douglas Smoot, Dean of the College of Engineering and Technology at Brigham Young University, once told me, “It is impossible to leap from the top of a building and disobey the law of gravity. Placing one’s finger in an electric outlet will cause an electrical flow through a person’s body irrespective of intent. Fundamental laws of nature cannot be disobeyed.”
I thought about Dean Smoot’s comments, and how we as humans constantly try to push the laws of nature as well as the laws of God, when I read in the newspaper about a young man celebrating his birthday at a hotel. He and his friends had been drinking and were probably not thinking clearly when he decided to jump from one tenth-floor balcony to the next. Being successful the first time, he attempted a second leap and fell to his death. “We were just out having a good time,” said his friend, “but now] I realize how quickly life can be taken away.”
Use this tragic story to illustrate what happens when our judgment is impaired and we refuse to obey the laws God has given us—both physical and spiritual. In this case, the consequence of falling from that high up seems pretty obvious. But there will be times when we will feel physically or spiritually impaired and will not realize what could happen if we choose to disobey, or if we walk too close to the edge of disobedience. If only we could realize that the momentary pleasure we might feel by an act of disobedience can never be equal to the feelings of peace and happiness that result from obedience.
Joseph Smith assured us, “As God has designed our happiness—and the happiness of all His creatures, he never has—he never will institute an ordinance or give a commandment to His people that is not calculated in its nature to promote that happiness which He has designed” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 256).
Sometimes we are tempted to test the law, as Mollie did, and even question the wisdom of the lawgiver. We may feel that we find freedom in disobedience as we dash across life’s highway with our eyes closed. But as Elder Boyd K. Packer has said, “Obedience—that which God will never take by force—he will accept when freely given. And he will return to you freedom that you can hardly dream of—the freedom to feel and to know, the freedom to do and the freedom to be, at least a thousandfold more than we offer him. Strangely enough, the key to freedom is obedience” (Obedience, BYU Speeches of the Year, Provo, 7 Dec. 1971, p. 4).

On September 11, 2001, we awoke eager for an exciting day! We were foster parents to two little girls, and over the course of a year four-year-old Olivia and five-year-old Amber had entwined themselves around our family’s hearts. We decided to go before a judge to adopt them. Our excitement turned to solemness when we sat horrified watching the Twin Towers collapse, with the loss of thousands of innocent lives, yet we were offering a new life to these innocent little girls. It brought joy to all that day.

Three days later, we travelled to the Salt Lake City Temple where our two precious little girls were sealed to us for time and all eternity. Later, as we stood looking at a statue of Christ, Amber placed her little hand on the statue’s hand. The thought came to me that, although wicked people do unspeakable things to the innocent, the sacred covenants and sealing power of God in His holy temples is more powerful than any evil force and will bind us together with His love as families forever.

It was our first Christmas away from home. Elders Heemeyer, Bright, Kehoe, Schulze, Westover, and I had all gathered in one apartment to share Christmas Eve. We hoped that spending the evening together as a missionary district might make it easier to be away from home.
It was about 5:30 in the afternoon, and we were all a little discouraged. Setting up appointments with investigators and finding new people to teach had been difficult recently. “Come back after Christmas,” everyone said.
After talking for a few minutes, Elder Schulze suggested we go caroling to the homes of our investigators and some of the members. We all thought it was a great idea, and we planned a short program. We would start with two hymns and a spiritual thought. Then we would conclude with another hymn and a prayer. The whole program would be only 20 minutes long, but we all felt pleased with it.
Before we left, we knelt to pray. Then we set out into the cold night on the south side of Chicago, Illinois, in the United States.
Our first stop was the apartment of a member whose daughter and two grandchildren were investigating the Church. We certainly weren’t the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but for six elders we sounded pretty good. After we shared our program, the family told us our “gift” was the best they had ever received.
Soon we were at a different apartment presenting our program to another family. At every stop, our enthusiasm and joy grew. We kept hearing the same response: “This is the best gift ever. You really brought the Christmas spirit.”
That night I came to better understand the true meaning of Christmas—that sharing and serving others are what Jesus Christ’s ministry is all about. And while we were busy in the service of others and of the Savior, home didn’t really seem so far away.

1) When I went on my mission to Switzerland in 1950, I had studied the German language in both high school and university for a total of three years. I thought I was well prepared to be a missionary, even though at that time I had not read all of the Book of Mormon. But when I heard the everyday language of the Swiss people and their dialect forms, I was overwhelmed. It became very difficult to apply what I had learned. My companion and I read aloud to each other for an hour each morning from the Max Zimmer German translation of the Book of Mormon, which was written in the old German script. It was difficult at first, but through that reading of the Book of Mormon in German, the rhythm and flow of the language came easier for me and I was soon able to better communicate with the people.
That early morning reading also helped me through the Isaiah chapters of Second Nephi, which can be difficult to understand. In the process, I was introduced to the intriguing and beautiful poetry of Isaiah, to the vision he had of the whole history of man, and to his strong concern for the poor and the widows. It began a life-long study of the whole book of Isaiah, which has been a blessing at many times of spiritual need or of spiritual high points. That reading also opened up to me the way the prophets have of placing things of our life into a perspective that gives them their true meaning in eternity. These openings and beginnings have continued to enrich my understanding of the gospel, of the plan of salvation, of my values and goals, of the meaning of my own life. This all began with that hour my companion and I spent together reading the Book of Mormon to each other in the early mornings in an attic room in Bern, Switzerland. It was not just the language, but also the beginnings of an understanding of the beauty and importance of all scripture that came to me through that experience.

My plan to make friends and integrate seamlessly into my new boarding school was working out as I had hoped—until the first Sunday morning when I hurried into the dining hall dressed in my suit and tie to grab a quick bite before heading to church. It felt like the room went silent as my peers, still wearing their pajamas, stopped eating and stared at me through their half-shut, sleepy eyes. I quickly realized that I was the only active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the school.
The Lord has said to Church members, “Arise and shine forth, that thy light may be a standard for the nations” (Doctrine and Covenants 115:5).
Without me saying a single word, news of my religion spread rapidly. I began receiving daily questions about my faith, which usually began with “Hey, you’re Matteo, the Mormon, right?” Most questions were genuine, some were jarring, others were malicious, and a few were simply comical.
One friend asked me sincerely, “Isn’t it true that you guys don’t eat oranges?” to which I jokingly responded, “Oh yeah, oranges are straight from the devil.” As we were both laughing, I realized that his initial apprehension eased, and we felt a stronger connection as friends.
Since I could not escape my newfound notoriety, I decided to create opportunities that would add laughter to potentially uncomfortable conversations. I took a chance and dressed up as a nametag-wearing missionary for Halloween (a costume holiday celebrated in October). I knew this was a risky endeavor as I could be completely ridiculed, but I had a feeling that doing so would show that I was sure of my beliefs.
The risk paid off. Walking around campus as a missionary made everyone smile and sparked lively role-playing sessions. I broke some stereotypes and made some new friends.
After Halloween, people’s attitudes toward me changed, and questions about my faith evolved into peers asking me for advice about their own lives. To my surprise, friends and acquaintances who had gotten over the initial shock of learning that I do not drink, smoke, or do drugs and that I am waiting to have sex until I’m married turned to me for guidance specifically on those topics.
I found myself reassuring friends who were feeling pressured into having sex that they had the power to choose, encouraging some to go to the school counselor to talk about mental health and addiction concerns, and even consoling someone who made a mistake that would likely lead to expulsion. I was baffled by the way many of my peers could transition from mocking me to seeking my advice.
Over time, I understood that being completely confident, open, and vulnerable about who I was drew others to me who were seeking a judgment-free space and a listening ear.
I am grateful for two of the many important lessons I learned that year. The first is that healthy laughter can dissolve apprehension and contention and is an excellent way to unify people. The second is that choosing to be confident in who you are brings remarkable opportunities to help others that would have never come otherwise.
There were many times when I wanted to hide my religion and be known for something else. But having a sense of humor and vulnerability about who I am allowed people to get to know me as Matteo, not just someone with different beliefs.
Elder Matteo Huish, age 18, Arizona, USA
Enjoys spartan races, family game nights, and performing music.
Elder Huish is currently serving in the Canada Toronto Mission, speaking Persian.

That clouded vision has been both figurative and literal in my life. I was born with an extremely rare eye condition. My vision has always been limited, but within the past year, I’ve lost almost all sight in my left eye. This condition is so rare that there is very little the doctors can do, and I’ve had to place every ounce of my faith in the Lord.
On a particularly hard day, I found myself falling into despair, worrying that my whole life might crumble right before my eyes—literally. And then I remembered a very timely and powerful scripture: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you” (John 14:27).
The Savior didn’t say, “My answers I give unto you on your timetable” or “Healing I give unto you in every case,” but He did promise us peace. He may not remove the figurative curtains of mortality that are sometimes placed over our eyes, but if we take His hand, He can teach us how to move forward with faith, trusting that the answers will come with time. Through Him, our burdens can be made light. President Russell M. Nelson reiterated this, saying, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”1 And I chose to focus on Him.
After many months of being afraid to take His hand, I finally did. My sight continued to decline, but I eventually received an answer from doctors about my vision and was able to receive a surgery that could possibly help me retain some of it. There was no guarantee that this procedure would help in the long run, but I went into it knowing that whatever the outcome, the Lord had a plan for me, and this trial could bring me closer to Him if I allowed it to. Peace doesn’t always come after you’ve been healed—sometimes it comes amid the storms of life—but as you rely on the Lord, you can be sure that it will.

A couple of years ago, in a tightly contested football game that came down to the last play on a rival team’s home field, Coach Sitake quietly did something that speaks to his character. Before the game ended, the opposing team prematurely stormed the field, only to be told by game officials to get back off the field so the final play could take place. The final play nearly swung the game in BYU’s favor but fell just short.

As the home-team student section stormed the field once again, many of the fans were charged with an emotion that I call “athletic-induced anger.” The situation became somewhat dangerous for players and coaches who found themselves in a wave of charging fans. As opposing fans approached Kalani to scream and jeer in his face, he invited them to take selfie photos with him. This small, humble act in a moment of high emotion instantly melted away the anger. Kalani’s reaction to the incident neutralized the entire situation. Rather than demeaning our coach, opposing fans swarmed him to take selfies. BYU runs deep for Kalani Sitake. Cougar Nation is thankful Kalani is with us!

I am grateful for people on the earth who love and appreciate little children. Last year I found myself late at night on an airplane bulging with passengers going north from Mexico City to Culiacan. The seats in the plane were close together, and every seat was taken, mostly by the gracious people of Mexico. Everywhere inside the plane there were packages and carry-on luggage of all sizes.
A young woman came down the aisle with four small children, the oldest of which appeared to be about four and the youngest a newborn. She was also trying to manage a diaper bag and a stroller and some bags. The children were tired, crying, and fussing. As she found her seat in the airplane, the passengers around her, both men and women, literally sprang to her aid. Soon the children were being lovingly and tenderly comforted and cared for by the passengers. They were passed from one passenger to another all over the airplane.
The result was an airplane full of baby-sitters. The children settled down in the caring arms of those who cradled them and, before long, went to sleep. Most remarkable was that a few men who were obviously fathers and grandfathers tenderly cradled and caressed the newborn child without any false, macho pride. The mother was freed from the care of her children most of the flight.
The only thing that I felt bad about was that no one passed the baby to me! I relearned that appreciation for and thoughtfulness and kindness to little children are an expression of the Savior’s love for them.

One recent October somewhere around Tucumcari, my guitar player and bass man started confiding. We were on the road to play for a youth conference in Dallas and were mapping out a little journey through some songs that we hoped would give those people a good feeling, something to remember, a concert that would make them feel comfortable with their ideals. It hit both sidemen at once.
“Y’know, it wasn’t until just a few months before my mission that I started really listening to those lyrics that came out of my mouth every weekend.” They were talking about the kind of music that you hear on the radio, the kind that folks think they have to sing if they’re playing for stake dances every week, the kind of lyric in which just about every third verse mocks the beauty that’s a part of every child of God. And then they thought, “Well, it’s probably because we were so into the music that we didn’t hear the words. Not everybody’s a musician. Maybe not everybody’s as dumb as us.” And the conversation rested for awhile on that regretful but hopeful end.
We arrived, played the concert, and shared some good, true feelings back and forth with our new friends. The last encore was “I Am a Child of God.” Afterward, as we shook hands all around and shared greetings, the dance committee was setting up their record system.
Kabam!
Like a bolt of black lightning, six heavy speaker banks exploded with a Led Zeppelin lyric that you can’t print in Church magazines. The three of us (and several of the young people) looked at each other, and all thought the same thing: The scriptures never said that Satan would deceive only the very dumb.

One winter’s morning during a snowstorm, I took my mother to have some blood tests done. It was “white-knuckle” driving on snowy, icy roads. We were headed home and going around a corner very slowly. The car hit black ice, and as if in slow motion, we headed for the curb. THUNK! I quickly asked Mom, “Are you OK?”
“Yes.”
We continued cautiously, slowly.
Then I said in an oh-so-sarcastic kind of way, “So I suppose you’re going to sue me for whiplash.” Instantly she jumped in, moaning and holding her neck. “Oh . . . ohhhhhh . . . oh, my neck hurts. . . . Oh, I can’t move my head. . . . Oh dear, I have to call . . .” and she tried to say the name of one of the lawyers who advertises on TV. (“One call . . . that’s all!”) It was so spontaneous and so hilarious that we both laughed until we were screaming.
We eventually came up for air, but Mom kept the fun going for days, calling me, moaning and whining about her whiplash the minute I’d answer.
I’m so grateful for what I have learned from my parents about being cheerful, lighthearted, and—yes—sometimes silly.

In 1903, George Albert’s life and that of his family was to undergo a major change. At the age of thirty-three, he was ordained an Apostle, serving as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve with his father.
Elder George Albert Smith was surprised by his new calling, although, he remembered, “My patriarchal blessing given under the hands of Zebedee Coltrin when I was twelve years of age, indicated that I would some day become an Apostle.”
As an Apostle, he formulated a list of goals that reflected his life as it had been and the creed by which he would live as a servant of the Lord. His “creed of life” as he called it, included his determination to “be a friend to the friendless and find joy in ministering to the needs of the poor.”
His creed also included the thought: “Knowing that the Redeemer of mankind has offered to the world the only plan that will fully develop us and make us really happy here and hereafter, I feel it not only a duty but also a blessed privilege to disseminate this truth.”
And spread the truth he did as he fulfilled his apostolic assignments, including serving as European Mission president from 1919 to 1921. He continued to serve on the YMMIA general board through the mission years, and on his return from Europe he became YMMIA general president.
As an Apostle, Elder Smith traveled widely, visiting many countries in Europe and the South Pacific. Everywhere he went, he cultivated good will for the Church. In a general conference address in October 1921, he said, “I love my brothers and sisters, and I have affection for my Father’s children who are not members of this Church, and inasmuch as he will give me physical strength and mental power, I desire to so order my life that I may be an uplift to all those with whom I come in contact.”
As a new Apostle, Elder Smith saw a war-torn Europe. As president of the Quorum of the Twelve, he was to see Europe again engaged in war, a war that came to an end six days before the death of President Heber J. Grant. Elder Smith was sustained President of the Church 21 May 1945.
Shortly after assuming the mantle of the prophet, President Smith sent Elder Ezra Taft Benson to Europe to oversee a massive relief effort provided by the Church.
In the October 1947 general conference, President Smith recalled going to Washington, D.C., to meet with U.S. President Harry S. Truman.
“When I called on him, he received me very graciously … and I said: ‘I have just come to ascertain from you, Mr. President, what your attitude will be if the Latter-day Saints are prepared to ship food, clothing, and bedding to Europe.’
“He smiled and looked at me, and said: ‘Well, what do you want to ship it over there for? Their money isn’t any good.’
“I said: ‘We don’t want their money.’
“He looked at me and asked: ‘You don’t mean you are going to give it to them?’
“I said: ‘Of course, we would give it to them. They are our brothers and sisters and are in distress. God has blessed us with a surplus, and we will be glad to send it if we can have the co-operation of the government.’”
That cooperation was quickly forthcoming in the form of railroad cars and shipping space. When the Church membership had received aid, President Smith directed tons of wheat be sent to nonmembers in Greece who were suffering from starvation. He had known poverty in his own youth and did all in his power to help those suffering from its effects. He could not rest while he knew of suffering; he could never be the victim of apathy.
He put into effect his creed to “find joy in ministering to the needs of the poor.”
It was also part of his creed to “visit the sick and afflicted and inspire in them a desire for faith to be healed.” It was a common sight in the hospitals of Salt Lake City and elsewhere to see President Smith visiting the patients. He too had known suffering. For a number of years during his early apostolic ministry, he had suffered from illness to the point that he was unable to serve actively in his calling. Ten years later, he remarked in general conference:
“I have been in the valley of the shadow of death in recent years, so near the other side that I am sure that for the special blessing of our Heavenly Father I could not have remained here. … The nearer I went to the other side, the greater was my assurance that the gospel is true.”
He never forgot the lessons of that illness, and those lessons undoubtedly added to the depth of his compassion so that he, like the Master, might know “according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:12).
Despite his illness, which was finally diagnosed as lupus erythematosus, a disease effecting chronic physical weakness, President Smith lived to see the world again engaged in political tensions as East opposed the West, and the war in Korea broke out. “The world,” he warned in the October 1949 general conference, “is sick.”
In the same conference, he said, “We can legislate until doomsday but that will not make men righteous. It will be necessary for people who are in the dark to repent of their sins, correct their lives, and live in such a righteous way that they can enjoy the spirit of our Heavenly Father.”
But even in a world of turmoil, President Smith optimistically and prophetically saw the great missionary work that was to come. In the October 1945 general conference he said:
“We must preach the gospel to the South American countries which we have scarcely touched. We must preach the gospel to every African section that we haven’t been in yet. We must preach the gospel to Asia. And I might go on and say in all parts of the world where we have not yet been permitted to go. I look upon Russia as one of the most fruitful fields for the teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
In conference a year later he said,
“Short-wave radio broadcasting will continue to improve, and it will not be long, from this pulpit and other places that will be provided, the servants of the Lord will be able to deliver messages to isolated groups who are so far away they cannot be reached. In that way and other ways, the gospel of Jesus Christ our Lord, the only power of God unto salvation in preparation for the celestial kingdom, will be heard in all parts of the world, and many of you who are here will live to see that day.”
The man who said, “I would not seek to force people to live up to my ideals but rather love them into doing the thing that is right,” died in April 1951. He was eighty-two years old. Under his stewardship, the Church’s building program expanded to accommodate the growing Church membership, which passed the one million mark; the missionary force grew to more than three thousand; and the Idaho Falls Temple was dedicated.
At President George Albert Smith’s funeral, his former counselor, President J. Reuben Clark, said, “It has been properly suggested that his real name was Love.”

The first island reached by the ship was Tubuai in 1844. When the natives there pleaded with the missionaries to stay, Addison Pratt left the ship to teach these people who had shown them kindness and hospitality. Serving there alone for many months, struggling to learn the Polynesian language, he baptized sixty out of a population of two hundred and organized the first branch of the Church in the South Pacific. To this day, the Latter-day Saint community on Tubuai is a strong one.

The first one we will call Jim. Jim comes from a distant state. He is a fine-looking, clean-cut young man not quite thirty years old. He was one of those who opposed the establishment and society in general. He came from a broken home. He had experienced no love in his life. He left home at age seventeen and joined the army. After release from the military, he wandered about the country without goal or purpose in life, finally finding himself in Salt Lake City. He was involved in a theft, arrested, convicted, and sent to prison. He escaped one day, was recaptured, and was placed in maximum security. In his words, “I came out of maximum security and returned to medium, and still did not know what to do with my life.”
One of the prisoners, knowing of some of the turmoil Jim was going through, sent him to see the LDS chaplain. This was the beginning of a completely new experience in Jim’s life. Even though he found himself in prison, he had taken the first step to a freedom he had not known existed.
After a few weeks of exposure to the program of the Church specially designed for prison life, he said he was able to give up smoking. He became involved in the various religious programs sponsored by the Church social service agency. He said, “I haven’t smoked a cigarette since that day. I haven’t had a cup of coffee since December of last year.” He goes on to tell of the good feeling of accomplishment in overcoming bad personal habits.
He also tells about the family home evening program conducted by his home teachers. He explained that he would have given up in discouragement many times had it not been for this wonderful couple who had been assigned as his home teachers. He said they actually loved him as a son, something he had never experienced in his life, even as a little boy. In his own words: “I have been in this program since June 16, 1970. For these sixteen months, I probably made more changes in my life—inside these walls away from the rat race of society—that I know are going to determine my whole future more than the first twenty-three years of my life before prison. I had no idea at all what the LDS people were or what the Church was until I went to prison.
“I am not proud of being in prison, but I am proud of my experience while being there. I am proud of being a graduate of the program that the LDS people have offered to the inmates at the prison.”
This is the young man who conducted the graduation exercises and did it in a most impressive manner. His goal now is to finish paying his debt to society in order to be released from prison so that he might prepare for baptism and membership in the Church.

Several years ago I took my first photography class. One of the assignments the teacher gave us then was to shoot, develop, print, and mount one photograph each week. On Fridays these photographs were displayed in front of the class and critiqued by the teacher.
After about the third week, one of the students raised his hand and said, “There’s nothing left to take pictures of; all of the good things have been done.”
There were about 40 students in the class, and in the three weeks we’d been displaying photographs, every prominent building, statue, water fountain, and stray dog in the area had been exposed, printed, and dry mounted several times.
The teacher mumbled something about “seeing and imagination” and then dismissed the class. The following Friday the teacher, after the regular display and critique, set out 20 of his own mounted photographs.
“I took these in the parking lot,” he said. “Outside of this building.”
His photographs were beautiful. There were pictures of the abstract designs of cracked paint on curbs, the texture of rusted gutter bars, reflections from windows, rows of head lights that looked like eyes, the design of a hundred car hoods, a student looking for his car in a sea of cars. The photographs were more than just nice images. They made a statement about the culture of our society, about us. The beauty, the communication, the sensitivity—all of the elements of art were in the photographs.
For me, this experience with this teacher was discovery. It formalized something I had already sensed. From that point on, everything around me became something to be seen, to be photographed. I took pictures of pipes on ceilings, vegetables, fruits, tattered billboards, and nearly everything else that I saw. Looking, seeing what I saw opened an entirely new universe for me; everything I saw was alive with excitement. It was a little like a fish discovering water.