Gospel Story Finder

There is an oft-told story of three men who applied for the job of driving the coaches for a transportation company. The successful applicant would be driving over high, dangerous and precipitous mountain roads. Asked how well he could drive, the first one replied: “I am a good, experienced driver. I can drive so close to the edge of the precipice that the wide metal tire of the vehicle will skirt the edge and never go off.”

“That is good driving,” said the employer.

The second man boasted, “Oh, I can do better than that. I can drive so accurately that the tire of the vehicle will lap over, half of the tire on the edge of the precipice, and the other half in the air over the edge.”

The employer wondered what the third man could offer, and was surprised and pleased to hear, “Well, sir, I can keep just as far away from the edge as possible.” It is needless to ask which of the men got the job.

Due to misunderstandings by persons who did not want The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints established in Ghana, the Church was banned. On June 14, 1989, the government of Ghana suspended all activities of the Church. The members of the Church faithfully ministered to one another. They did not assemble at meetinghouses, neither did they raise their voices to their Lord, but just like the people of Alma who were persecuted by Amulon they, “did pour out their hearts to him”3. The Savior, through the still small voice, asked these faithful, committed, covenant keeping members to wait and watch, and continue on the covenant path. The voice of the Lord came to them through their afflictions; “lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage”.4
On November 29, 1990, after a period of 18 months, the freeze was lifted and the Church could continue as it did before. The members who were “anxiously engaged in a good cause, and [doing] many things of their own free will, and [bringing] to pass much righteousness”5, found joy in the 18-month journey rather than anticipating the arrival.

In the few minutes remaining, I would like to offer one more perspective on change for the students of the university by relating an experience from the life of my grandmother, Thelma Bean Waddoups. My grandmother grew up in the small Idaho town of Herbert. About 20 miles south of Rexburg, Herbert consisted of nothing more than widely separated farmhouses—typically log cabins—and two town buildings. One of the town buildings was the post office. The other served as a one-room schoolhouse from Monday through Friday, as a dance hall on Saturday, and as an LDS meetinghouse on Sunday.
My great-grandfather, Charles Bean, was a man of tremendous imagination and industry who did whatever was required to support his wife and children. At this point in his life, Charlie Bean was homesteading new farmland with the hope of improving his family’s living circumstances. In 1910 my grandmother Thelma began school in Herbert at the age of six. Since transportation near the turn of the century was limited to riding a horse, driving a buggy, or walking, she typically walked the two miles to and from her schoolhouse.
The schoolteacher sold Bibles as a part-time job. In hopes of motivating his students, he offered to give one of his Bibles at Christmastime to the child who had the best attendance record and the best grades. In a poor Idaho farm community in 1910, it would have been a magnificent thing for a young child to own a book of her own, particularly if the book were the Bible. Thelma determined that the Bible would be hers, even though she was much younger than most of the other children in the school.
That fall, in the small isolated town of Herbert, she attended school without missing a day. Those of you familiar with the weather around Rexburg will be more impressed by the accomplishment of this young girl who walked four miles a day during the storms of November and December. Excited by the opportunity of learning, Thelma found that she was naturally a good student. By applying herself, she earned the best grades in the school. As Christmas approached, she was confident that the coveted Bible would be hers.
Finally, when the day arrived for the teacher to award his prize, my great-grandparents were reluctant to let Thelma make the journey to school. There had been a particularly severe storm the night before, and the snow was so deep that it was nearly impossible for a man or a horse to travel. However, the crust on the snow was firm enough that a small girl could walk on top without falling through. And so my great-grandfather had the choice of either letting his young daughter make the journey alone or keeping her home—undoubtedly causing her to lose the Bible. He finally conceded to let her try it on her own, and my great-grandmother, Agnes Leatham Bean, sat by the window and watched her daughter with a spyglass for as long as she was in sight.
After a long, cold journey, little Thelma eventually arrived safely at school, eager to receive her reward. When the time came, however, the teacher told her that even though she had the best attendance record and the highest grades in school, he had decided not to give the Bible to her because a young girl her age couldn’t read well enough nor fully appreciate the scriptures. The teacher gave the prize to another student.
As you can imagine, Thelma made the long journey home through the snow that day in tears. It seemed that all of her walking and all of her studying had earned her nothing. Great-grandfather Bean was overwhelmed with pity for his daughter, and even though he, like most farmers of that time, had almost no cash, he scraped together enough to buy my grandmother a Bible—from her teacher, no less—for Christmas. It was this Bible that she has kept to this day and passed down to our family as a testimony of how important the scriptures of our Lord are and how hard we must work to earn them.
In the many years that followed, my grandmother lived to watch on television as a man walked on the moon. She endured two world wars and raised a family during the Great Depression. With no more than a high school education from Ricks, she became the registrar for Utah State University and sat in councils with deans and university presidents. Having hardly ventured out of Idaho as a girl, she served missions with my grandfather in Canada and New Zealand. I believe that through this life of enormous change, she was sustained by the physical, emotional, and spiritual strength she gained as a young girl walking through the snow to school in pursuit of the word of God.

The Young Men and Young Women of the Peoria Second Ward, Peoria Arizona Stake, combined a service project with learning a new skill. They accepted the challenge to install and plant ten weed-free gardens for people in their ward. The idea of a garden without weeds was appealing to them after remembering long hours in the hot sun weeding.
The homeowners supplied the money for the black plastic and the plants. The youth provided the muscle.
To add to the challenge, the group decided to prepare and plant all the gardens in one hour. Since they planned the project for their weekday activity night, they needed to complete the garden within an hour because darkness could hamper the work. This meant they had to do some careful planning and divide the group up into smaller groups.
Each group with adult leaders was assigned a garden spot. They cleared the rocks and grass, turned over the soil, mixed in the fertilizer, spread the plastic, cut the holes, and planted the plants. They succeeded in putting in each garden in the hour time limit. They earned a few blisters but were pleased with the result.

Certainly this was the thinking of Florence Chukwurah of Nigeria when she was assigned to visit teach a sister who was having difficulties in her marriage and in her home, making it necessary to meet at the marketplace for a visit. After listening to and observing this sister’s challenges, Sister Chukwurah asked her husband for a priesthood blessing so that she might know how to help this troubled sister. Following the blessing she felt prompted to discuss with this sister the importance of tithing. “She tearfully told me that she did not pay her tithes because she was not making enough money,” Sister Chukwurah remembers. “I suggested that she and I discuss Malachi 3:10 and that we do so in my house so we could relax and be alone for the discussion. She consented. After our discussion I encouraged her to exercise her faith and pay her tithes for at least six months. I bore my testimony to her by the Spirit.”
Sister Chukwurah testifies that within a few months of this meeting, this sister’s circumstances changed dramatically. Her daughter received a scholarship to complete her high school education, her husband worked with the bishop to become active and accept a calling, husband and wife teamed up to improve their financial situation and their relationship, and eventually they became an inspiration to others.

My mother asked me to meet with a leader in our church. I knew him to be a very bright scholar and was somewhat intimidated. But the man I thought would confound me and have all the answers had none. All he could tell me was that many believed these matters, so who was I to question? He told me how disappointed my parents would be, and my heart ached. I had never outright disobeyed my parents. But how could I continue to be a part of something I knew was wrong? I had to stand up.

In the font, I knew the rest of my life would be different. It would be a lot harder, but I realized that part of growing up is making choices that are right. As I leaned back into the water, I felt peace! I could hardly believe the joy. I had decided what I believed and took courage in my own conviction.

My parents took back my credit card, my cell phone, and my car. They ignored me for a few months and would not let me speak to my brothers. My sister also found it difficult to accept me for a while. I moved to Utah for college, where I met a wonderful man and fell in love. My parents would not meet my husband when we were married, but now those tensions are slowly resolving, and I am in hopeful pursuit of my eternal family.

Growing up, trusting my decisions, and receiving consequences was not easy. But such joy has entered my life because I made the right decision. That moment of peace at my baptism has guided my life. Every big decision I make must have that peace, or I cannot live with it. I believe that if we choose what is right, we can get through anything.

We all have our own mountains to climb. We are all individuals with different challenges we face. What may be hard for one person may be easy for another. For example, I grew up in a family that we knew we were loved; we just didn’t verbally express it. In a Young Women lesson, we were challenged to go home and tell our parents we loved them. This might have been easy for some in my class, but for me, it was a mountain I had to climb. My mother was cleaning up in the kitchen as I paced the kitchen floor back and forth when finally, I spoke those three words: “I love you.” Why was that so hard? It was only three simple words. After that challenge, “I think I can” turned to “I knew I could,” which, from then on, I was able to verbally tell my parents I loved them on a regular basis. Because of repetition, those three words became easier to express through the years.

No one knows when emergencies will strike. I am somewhat familiar with the case of a man who was highly successful in his profession. He lived in comfort. He built a large home. Then one day he was suddenly involved in a serious accident. Instantly, without warning, he almost lost his life. He was left a cripple. Destroyed was his earning power. He faced huge medical bills. He had other payments to make. He was helpless before his creditors. One moment he was rich, the next he was broke.

Since the beginnings of the Church, the Lord has spoken on this matter of debt. To Martin Harris through revelation He said: “Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage” (D&C 19:35).
President Heber J. Grant spoke repeatedly on this matter from this pulpit. He said: “If there is any one thing that will bring peace and contentment into the human heart, and into the family, it is to live within our means. And if there is any one thing that is grinding and discouraging and disheartening, it is to have debts and obligations that one cannot meet” (Gospel Standards, comp. G. Homer Durham [1941], 111).
We are carrying a message of self-reliance throughout the Church. Self-reliance cannot obtain when there is serious debt hanging over a household. One has neither independence nor freedom from bondage when he is obligated to others.
In managing the affairs of the Church, we have tried to set an example. We have, as a matter of policy, stringently followed the practice of setting aside each year a percentage of the income of the Church against a possible day of need.
I am grateful to be able to say that the Church in all its operations, in all its undertakings, in all of its departments, is able to function without borrowed money. If we cannot get along, we will curtail our programs. We will shrink expenditures to fit the income. We will not borrow.
One of the happiest days in the life of President Joseph F. Smith was the day the Church paid off its long-standing indebtedness.
What a wonderful feeling it is to be free of debt, to have a little money against a day of emergency put away where it can be retrieved when necessary.
President Faust would not tell you this himself. Perhaps I can tell it, and he can take it out on me afterward. He had a mortgage on his home drawing 4 percent interest. Many people would have told him he was foolish to pay off that mortgage when it carried so low a rate of interest. But the first opportunity he had to acquire some means, he and his wife determined they would pay off their mortgage. He has been free of debt since that day. That’s why he wears a smile on his face, and that’s why he whistles while he works.
I urge you, brethren, to look to the condition of your finances. I urge you to be modest in your expenditures; discipline yourselves in your purchases to avoid debt to the extent possible. Pay off debt as quickly as you can, and free yourselves from bondage.
This is a part of the temporal gospel in which we believe. May the Lord bless you, my beloved brethren, to set your houses in order. If you have paid your debts, if you have a reserve, even though it be small, then should storms howl about your head, you will have shelter for your wives and children and peace in your hearts. That’s all I have to say about it, but I wish to say it with all the emphasis of which I am capable.

In just four days from now, on November 9, it will be 150 years since the ill-fated Willie Handcart Company pioneers struggled into the Salt Lake Valley. They had waded through much suffering and death. The storms and their weakened condition had claimed many—the rescuers had saved many more.

Levi Savage was among those arriving that day. History records his faithful and dogged labors to save the Saints and bring them safely to the valley. But his noble service did not begin on the snowbound plains of Wyoming. This was but another chapter, perhaps the crowning one, in a consecrated life of service.

Levi was baptized in June 1846 at 26 years of age. Answering the prophet’s call to move west, he noted that
we prepared as well as we could for a long journey into a strange and to us wholly unknown country. . . . We bid adieu to the old homestead . . . and directed our course westward, not knowing the place of destination, only we expected to locate somewhere in the western wilds of the Rocky Mountains.19
On July 16, 1846, he, with other valiant men, again responded to the prophet’s urging, enlisted in the Mormon Battalion, and marched approximately 2,000 miles from Council Bluffs, Iowa, to San Diego, California, and then on to Los Angeles. Here they were discharged from government service. Though they knew nothing of the whereabouts of their homes and families, they began their trek to the valley of the Great Salt Lake. The route Levi Savage traveled was an additional 1,300 miles over rugged and hostile terrain, but he finally arrived in the Salt Lake Valley.

Here Levi pioneered, fought crickets, married, had a son, and buried his wife some months following the child’s birth. Ten months after his wife’s death, in the October conference of 1852, he and several other faithful brethren were called by the prophet to open a gospel mission to Siam (today’s Thailand).

This time they journeyed by team and wagon back to lower California and the Pacific Ocean. In time, they sailed from San Francisco to Calcutta, bound for their mission to Siam. Levi’s journal entry of January 29, 1853, provides us a glimpse into the hearts of these early missionaries. He wrote:
Our gallant ship, propelled by a gentle breeze, steered her course across the boisterous deep for our places of destination; leaving behind us our much loved native land. . . . Each sought his own place for meditation, and there reflected upon the comforts of his home, the affections of his beloved wife and children or friends. . . . But now he was called to take up his abode in the remote parts of the earth, and for what? For the sake of heaping up gold and silver, or to secure for himself the honors, pomp and splendor of this world? No, verily no! But in obedience to the commands of the Lord to carry the message of truth and . . . salvation to the benighted and superstitious nations. Soon after, each retired to his cot for rest and repose. But whether asleep or awake, his mind continued to wander upon the realities of the past, and the prospects of the future.20

Following his mission, Levi sailed home by way of Boston, Massachusetts, made his way to his place of birth in Greenfield, Ohio, and noted upon his arrival there, “I have circled the globe.”21 He joined the Willie Handcart Company in Iowa City, Iowa, which began a saga of eternal importance to him, his family, and the entire Church. His works in that epic crowned a life of sacrifice and service. Of these pioneers, the benchmark shows: Their faith and works were a beacon in an unbelieving world, their service a pattern for each of us to follow.

It all started when I saw a copy of the Book of Mormon and later went to the Ohio State Fair in 1972 to get a copy for myself. That week I read about Joseph Smith and the golden plates. I was fascinated by the story, but I could not believe that the Book of Mormon was the word of God. College was to start in a week, and I knew I wouldn’t have time to read the book after returning to campus. On Friday I prayed to know if the book were true, and if it were, I asked the Lord to give me time to read it.
Two days later I was in an automobile accident. I had to stay in the hospital for a few days and have a pin put in my broken ankle. The doctor told me I would be unable to go to school that semester. That really woke me up. I remembered what I had asked two days before, and I immediately began reading the Book of Mormon and the pamphlets I had picked up at the fair.
Two months after the accident two elders came and knocked on our door. My sister and I decided to receive the discussions, and I invited a friend to the first lesson.
For the second discussion I invited another friend also. The elders were transferred and two others continued to teach us. My sister’s boyfriend joined us in taking the discussions. My two friends and I were baptized in March 1973.
I arranged for two of my cousins to take the discussions at my house. My cousins, my sister, and her boyfriend Larry were baptized in May. Larry talked his sister into taking the discussions. He baptized her in August.
In October my sister married Larry. While at the wedding reception one of the missionaries talked to another of my cousins. She started asking questions about the Church. She was baptized in December.
Two of my friends came out to the Young Adult activities, and I suggested that they listen to the discussions. They are now members of the Church.
Beginning with a Book of Mormon, a prayer, and two missionaries knocking on my door, there are now 11 converts in the Church. The missionary program is important to me.
“Before they came there was no light: when they left there was no darkness.”

One example may suffice in illustrating the spiritual strength that comes to those who persevere in the service of the Lord in temples. I came into the temple one morning about 4:30 a.m., grateful to have been able to plow through heavy snow from our home to get there. In a secluded room, sitting thoughtfully as he leaned forward on his cane, I chanced upon an older, deeply admired friend. Like I, he was dressed in white, temple workers’ white. I greeted him cheerily and inquired what he was doing there at that hour of the morning.
He said, “You know what I am doing here, President Hanks. I am an ordinance worker here to fulfill my assignment.”
“I do know that,” I said, “but I am wondering how you got here through the snow storm. I just heard on the radio that Parley’s Canyon is closed to all traffic, indeed barricaded.”
He said, “I have a four-wheeler that will climb trees.”
I said, “So do I, or I would not be here, and I live only a few miles away.”
I then asked him how he had managed to get through the barricades that the news announcements had said were in place in the canyon. His answer was not atypical of this rancher and stake president whom I had first seen as a robust, strong man astride his horse when I spent an afternoon with him prior to stake conference meetings. Arthritis and age had literally shrunk him now and would soon take his life. He had much pain in moving about. His answer that morning was, “Now, President Hanks, I have known those highway officers, many of them, since they were born. They know I must get through and that if necessary I might try to go overland! They also know my truck and my experience, and they just move their barricades if they need to.”
He was there, faithful and loyal at that hour of the morning, to begin his sacred work. It is such individuals with such faith and devotion that temples help to develop.

There was a hailstorm in Monterrey, Mexico, last night, and this morning the unpaved roads are rivers of mud. Sister Miriam Sosa and Sister Laura Alcala bundle up in sweaters and coats. (It’s not always sunny here!) The sturdy shoes they’re wearing have seen muddy streets before.
You’d think these two had known each other their whole lives. They’re certainly best friends now. Both have a bright excitement in their eyes and a spirit of enthusiasm as they speak. Both are third-generation Latter-day Saints. Both have fathers who have been stake presidents and brothers who are currently serving missions.
Most important, both are filled with the spirit of missionary work. Although some may say it is hard to give fifteen discussions here in a week, they’ve given over sixty-five a week more than once.
“Consecration is the only way,” says Sister Sosa. Her humility is genuine. “We have put absolutely all our confidence in the Lord.”
“And we truly love the people we’re teaching,” adds Sister Alcala. “We want to share what we have with everybody.”
During Sister Sosa’s eight months in the field, she has had fifty-five baptisms. Most are complete families and are preparing for the temple. They’ll have ten more baptisms this weekend.
As they slip and slide through the muddy streets this morning, they joke about getting stuck or falling down. But they’ll do neither; their pace is quick and sure. They knock on the door of a tiny house: the parents aren’t home, but the grandpa and three granddaughters are. A single bulb lights the room. The toothless grandpa, blind in one eye and complaining of a sore arm, has a lot to say—but he listens, too. The oldest granddaughter holds the youngest on her lap; she and the middle sister listen attentively, read scriptures, and answer questions correctly. At the end, one of the girls offers a prayer and the missionaries leave, promising to return when the parents are home.
More mud. Now they cross a field, singing “I Am a Child of God.” At their next stop, they teach another discussion. Afterward, the mother says she felt good during the lesson. “That’s the Spirit of God bearing witness to your heart that these things are true,” says Sister Alcala. The family promises to come to Church on Sunday.
Back out in the street, the sister missionaries squeal their delight. As they round another muddy corner, Sister Sosa exclaims, “This is such a beautiful place to work!”

Living in Port Alberni, an industrial town on Vancouver Island, Canada, with few Church members, I grew up fascinated by Utah. I especially loved the missionaries. My family even collected the rectangular address cards the missionaries handed out. Each had a photo of the Salt Lake Temple or some other temple, as well as the missionary’s home address and ward. Listed on the back were the Articles of Faith.
To my young imagination, these cards were like travel posters showing beautiful scenes from faraway lands. Visiting places like Temple Square, however, seemed impossible. For a young boy from a poor family, Utah may as well have been on the moon.
But when my oldest brother, Mundi, married and settled in Salt Lake City, my world began to shrink. Then when my other brother, Laurence, attended BYU after his mission, it shrank a little more. After Mundi and his wife had settled in Salt Lake City, I asked my parents if I could visit them there.
“If you save up for the bus ticket, I guess you’re old enough,” my dad said. They even called Mundi and his wife, who both said it would be fine if I visited them for a few weeks the following summer.
Only one major hurdle remained: the bus ticket. The round-trip fare was $75.00, a fortune to a 15-year-old without a job. Still, I did odd jobs when I could and saved most everything I made. By March I had put away $45.00.
About that time my dad retired, and we moved to the other side of Victoria. My family started attending the local branch that met each Sunday at the nearby Women’s Auxiliary Hall—an old weathered building that smelled of damp wood. Our branch was so small the adult leaders had to do many things. My dad was a counselor in the Sunday School presidency. He was also a Sunday School teacher and the priesthood instructor. My mother handled the music and helped with the Primary. A couple of boys and myself administered the sacrament, and everyone gave talks.
At that time, Church buildings were paid for partly by the local members. Unbeknownst to me, the district presidency was on a drive to fund Vancouver Island’s second chapel. They hoped this building would one day become the island’s first stake center. They were visiting each branch, beginning at our little Sunday School.
“We’re building the foundation for the Lord’s Church to grow in this area,” one of the brethren said. “To accomplish this, every one of us will need to sacrifice.”
I listened intently. It was always interesting, if not a little intimidating, when the leaders visited. I usually hung on their every word.
“We’ve worked out suggested assessments for every mother and father and for every child,” he said. He listed off assessments of several hundred dollars from each set of parents and an assessment of $45.00 from each child. “We know this will be hard for you, but we promise you will be blessed for it,” he concluded.
It seemed too much of a coincidence. I had exactly $45.00 back at the house, representing most of my ticket to Utah. Between Sunday School and priesthood meeting, I ran home and grabbed the money. In the exhilaration of the moment, my long awaited trip to Utah was completely forgotten. I walked up to the brother from the district presidency and handed him the $45.00.
What happened next took me completely by surprise. The man looked at me, almost dumbfounded. Before we began the next meeting, he took the stand and asked everyone to sit down.
“It’s not easy to ask members to sacrifice,” he began, “and I’ve felt very discouraged these past few weeks about having to do it. I guess my own faith was weak. But a young man in your midst has just given me every cent he has because the Lord asked for it,” he said. “And I know that he will be blessed because of it.”
I heard later that he stood before all the branches on the island and used my example again and again to inspire the membership. Ironically, I hadn’t given my decision a moment’s thought. The Lord needed exactly what I had, so I gave it.
I didn’t give my Utah trip any more thought either. Although I had wanted to go for as long as I could remember, I didn’t feel disappointed. I figured my blessing was how good I felt inside. And, for the moment, that was more than enough.
Then, just before summer vacation began, an unexpected phone call came. It was Sister Hackwell, the mother of Billy, one of my Church friends.
“I’m driving to Utah in a few weeks to visit Faye and Anita [her two married daughters] and wondered if Jim wanted to come along?” she asked. “Mundi could pick him up at Anita’s, and he and Billy could keep each other company on the way.” I could go to Utah, after all. I knew immediately that the Lord had blessed me even more than the brother from the district presidency had promised he would.

A little closer to home, most of you are students. You worry about studies. You worry about passing your class. Sometimes you ask for help. Now if you've worked as hard as you can and studied as hard as you can and then ask for help, my experience is that the Lord will bless you. If you don't do the first part and you simply ask the Lord to help you, my experience is that he will not bless you.

When I was completing my Ph.D. requirements at Columbia, I had taken all the required course work, and I was preparing for the comprehensive oral exam that all Ph.D. students have to take. I had worked hard and I had studied hard, but I had made one decision as I started my studies, and that is that I wasn't going to study on Sundays. I was going to devote that day to church and my family.

As the day drew closer for me to take the examination, three of my classmates took theirs first and they all flunked. I thought, "Oh my goodness, they even studied on Sunday and they didn't have enough information to pass the test. What is going to happen to me?" I was nervous, I was concerned, but I had done all that I could do or all that I could think that I could do.

Shortly before it was my turn, the stake president, who had also earned a Ph.D. years before, knocked on our door. Now think of it, a stake president who had a large stake to run, knocked on the door of a poor young student and his wife. We opened the door and invited him in and he said, "I won't stay long, I just wanted you to know that I and my family will pray for you as you finish preparing to take your examination." Now he had 10 children, I knew that was a lot of prayer. I was excited that he and his 10 children were going to pray for me. And I was touched by the fact that he would personally come and convey that message and so when we got down to pray that night, there was a little extra urgency, but peace, in our prayer.

We didn't pray to know things we hadn't studied. We just prayed to be able to do the best that we could. The next day I went up and sat in a room with five full professors. Each of whom came into the room, I think, thinking, "Now what can I do to flunk him, we want to keep our record clean."

The very first question they asked, I had no idea what the answer was, I assumed that was what everybody else studied on Sunday. I couldn't even remember reading about it, let alone what the answer was. I thought, "Oh boy, here we go." I said another quick, quiet prayer. All of a sudden a feeling of peace came over me and I said, I don't know the answer to that question but here's how I'd get the answer to that question. Here's the kind of information I'd get. Here's the hypothesis I'd establish. Here's how I'd go about testing the data to see what the answer was.

They then went through another series of questions, and then again they asked me a question I had no idea what the answer was. I responded in the same way. That happened three times. I was having a wonderful time. I thought that it was actually kind of fun. I knew most of the answers, the questions I didn't know I just told them how I would get the answers. It turned out to be a wonderful, pleasant exciting experience and as I walked out the door I thought, "Oh, my goodness, I flunked." You see, the Spirit left me and I thought, "Oh, how can they possibly pass me when I had three questions that I didn't have a clue what the answer was?"

The next day I was in a seminar for other Ph.D. students working on their dissertations. I was a little late getting to class. I guess it just took me a little longer to get myself together the next morning. So I walked into the back of the class and one of the professors who was leading the seminar had been on my examination team and he had seen that I wasn't there so he had started talking about me. He said, "Yesterday we gave an examination to one of your fellow students," and I thought, "Oh boy, here it comes." He said, "He passed with one of the three highest grades we've ever given in the 25 years that I've been administering these examinations." I had to sit down. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could it be? I'm not that smart!

It turned out that what they were looking for was not only the answers to specific questions but they wanted to know whether or not I was able to think. Therefore, they purposefully asked questions I couldn't possibly have known the answer to, just to see how I would approach those questions. And because of the power of prayer and the peace that had settled over me and the help of the Holy Ghost to think clearly and rationally, I was able to respond in a way that they found satisfactory.

Oh yes, after we have done all that we can do, the Lord does answer our prayers. How blessed you are to have direct access to the Holy Ghost that will help you remember the things that you have studied. And as you pray and ask for that help, if you have done all you can do, the Lord will then help you be the best that you can be. God does answer prayers. I know, because He has answered mine.

Let me tell about another young man that I’ll also call Raymond. Even though this incident happened in his teen years, it applies to any one of us, even as adults, in teaching us to rely on the Lord.

When he was eleven, Raymond obtained a paper route and really began to prosper. He was still delivering papers at age sixteen. One day, the manager of the newspaper, an inactive adult member of the Church, came in and said, “Raymond, you have been so loyal and done so well in selling subscriptions that I’m going to appoint you assistant manager of circulation of this newspaper. In your duties you’ll supervise the other paper boys and teach them how to sell subscriptions. After school, after finishing your route, you’ll be able to come to the office to work two or three hours. You’ll be able to do some homework while you’re waiting to answer complaints on the phone. All in all, it will be a great job for you. And by the way, your pay will be tripled.”

The young man was delighted. He wanted to go on a mission and was saving money from his route to prepare for that day. This job would simply accelerate the process. He counted his blessings for the ideal job at a time when many teenagers had no work.

He said to himself, over and over again, “My, the Lord blesses one who keeps the commandments.” He wanted to glorify the Lord in that he had always paid his tithing, kept the Sabbath day holy, and honored his priesthood. He also felt he was being blessed for resisting the pressure to study on Sunday.

A successful year and a half went by and one Saturday, George, the newspaper manager, came to him and said, “You know, Raymond, one week from now we’re going to begin delivering the Sunday paper. You will not only have your Sunday route to deliver early in the morning, but you’ll have to stay in the office from about 7:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. in the afternoon. You’ll also receive a thirty percent increase in pay.”

Raymond’s countenance immediately fell. The manager quickly added, “I know you’re a Mormon, and you may, by chance, be thinking of not doing this extra job beyond your route. If you don’t take the job, you’ll not only lose the opportunity to earn more money on Sunday, but you’ll also lose your paper route and be fired from your weekday job as well. There are many of my other paper boys who would give their right arm to have your job.”

As Raymond went home on his bicycle that day, he was very despondent. He prayed over and over, “How could this be, Heavenly Father? I have kept the commandments. I’ve tried to do what is right. I’m trying to go on a mission. Now I may lose my job. Shall I work this added job on Sunday or not?”

He very emotionally explained the problem to his father, who gave him the correct answer when he said, “I don’t know the answer, but I know someone who does,” meaning the Lord. In a great teaching moment he put the burden back on Raymond.

Raymond struggled with the problem. He talked to his bishop. He told him about the same thing his father had told him. He learned that there were sacrament meetings being held in the other wards in the afternoon that he could attend if he decided to work. He prayed and struggled with the problem two full days.

Tuesday, when asked for a decision by George, the manager, Raymond said with great emotion, “I love my job and my route, but I cannot work on Sunday, thereby missing all of my meetings and working throughout the Sabbath day. It’s not right!”

George said emphatically and angrily, “You’re fired! Come in Saturday to pick up your last check! Did you hear me? You’re fired! There are scores of young men who would be glad to have a job like this. You’re a very ungrateful young man!” And he stomped out of the office.

The next three or four days were hard for Raymond. The manager hardly spoke to him. He really wondered if he had decided correctly. He thought to himself, “There are many who have to work on Sunday because of their employment. Shouldn’t I?” But the answer seemed to be the same: “There may be some who have to work on Sunday, but you don’t have to and should not.”

Saturday morning finally arrived and Raymond went in to pick up his last check. As he walked into the office somewhat downtrodden, George was waiting for him. He grabbed the boy by the arm and took him to a nearby room, perhaps for privacy, and said, “Raymond, please forgive me. I was wrong. I ought not to have tried to make you break the commandments of the Lord. I have found another young man of another faith who is willing to do the extra work on Sunday. You can keep your job. Will you?”

With a heart full of thankfulness, Raymond answered, “Yes.” The manager then added, “You’ll find the extra thirty percent I was going to pay you for the extra work on Sunday included in your paycheck this week, and also in your future paychecks, as long as you continue working for me.”

What great joy Raymond felt in his heart as he went home that afternoon, saying again and again to himself, “It is worth it to keep the commandments of the Lord. The Lord will always provide for his own.” What joy Raymond felt a year later to see his manager in the congregation when he gave his final talk preparatory to leaving for his mission.

What greater joy, a few months ago, after twenty-six years, to find Raymond talking with George on the phone, learning that he’s active, faithful, strong in the Church, and is a high priest group leader in his ward in another state.

A few years ago I conducted a mission tour. Some of the missionaries were struggling with obedience. That evening the mission president and I conducted interviews with some of the missionaries. The next morning the mission president commenced our zone conference by giving a masterful talk on integrity. I felt impressed to further speak on that subject. We observed that in a few moments we would be conducting additional interviews. We requested that the missionaries not play the game in which someone only discloses the truth if he is asked the perfect, pointed question. If they were men of integrity, they might say, “President, I don’t need any questions—I’ve made some mistakes, and I want to voluntarily disclose them. I want to be 100 percent honest.”

Well, you know what happened. The Spirit was there, and four missionaries from the night before privately stepped forward and said, “We have something else to disclose.”

One of them said, “I want to be an honest man.” That day he changed his foundation of sand for a granite foundation of integrity.

More than a decade ago a major in the U.S. Air Force told of his test flights. He was born of goodly parents who taught him righteousness. He had flown 25 different types of military aircraft in 4,000 hours in the air. He had flown 142 combat missions in Korea and had received many distinguished medals. He told us that “before takeoff every pilot takes a few moments to make a last-minute check of his engine, flight controls, hydraulic and pneumatic systems and other essential subsystems of his aircraft to be sure the flight can at least begin safely. … His reactions to emergency conditions must be instinctive and as infallible as human thought and reflexes permit.

“… Yet, there is something missing on the printed checklist which to me has become as necessary to a successful flight as lowering the wheels for a smooth landing. It is a prayer to ask my Father in heaven to bless me that my best judgment and skill will guide my actions, especially in periods of stress. There have been several instances … in which I know the answer to this prayer has been received with dramatic suddenness. …”

A Relief Society president knows that, in spite of a report which shows members receiving temporary assistance constitute 4 percent of a ward, to the sister in distress it is 100 percent. Her needs are whole and real. Consider the case of a woman we shall call Sister Allen. Troubled and lonely, she had just returned from a hospital stay and major surgery. Two months before, her husband had abandoned his responsibilities to their family of five. The bishop had visited, and now the Relief Society president came. It was a family-needs visit, and as they talked Sister Allen spoke wistfully of having some cream of asparagus soup and blueberry muffins. These items were not on the bishop’s order form and could have been dismissed as not available. But the president really wanted to serve Sister Allen and wondered if this rather special request might suggest a need for more than food. What was Sister Allen’s real need? Was it for commodities or for consideration, for someone to demonstrate that she was worthwhile by giving her special attention now, when her problems seemed to overwhelm her?
Sensing the larger need, the Relief Society president ordered the items available through the storehouse, then assigned compassionate service responsibilities to her visiting teachers and others to provide meals that included the muffins and the soup and also to show their concern in other visible and tangible ways. Sister Allen responded. She got better, aided by the food but more so by their friendship.

Please read carefully the following story told in a session of general conference in 1996 by President James E. Faust:
“A friend related this experience her husband had while attending medical school. ‘Getting into medical school is pretty competitive, and the desire to do well and be successful puts a great deal of pressure on the new incoming freshmen. My husband had worked hard on his studies and went to attend his first examination. The honor system was expected behavior at the medical school. The professor passed out the examination and left the room. Within a short time, students started to pull little cheat papers out from under their papers or from their pockets. My husband recalled his heart beginning to pound as he realized it is pretty hard to compete against cheaters. About that time a tall, lanky student stood up in the back of the room and stated: ‘I left my hometown and put my wife and three little babies in an upstairs apartment and worked very hard to get into medical school. And I’ll turn in the first one of you who cheats, and you better believe it!’ They believed it. There were many sheepish expressions, and those cheat papers started to disappear as fast as they had appeared. He set a standard for the class which eventually graduated the largest group in the school’s history.’”4
The young, lanky medical student who challenged the cheaters was J. Ballard Washburn, who became a respected physician. He also served as a General Authority and as the president of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple. Elder Washburn provides all of us with a powerful example of integrity and honesty with God, of integrity and honesty with himself, and of integrity and honesty with other people.

“The bus is coming! Get your coat on!” Jacob’s mother called. Opening the closet, Jacob looked for his red, black, and blue coat. He had been given the coat for Christmas, and his mother had written his name on the inside of one of the sleeves with a marker.

“Hurry, Jake!” Mom called again.

“I can’t find my coat!” Jacob cried. “Where is it?”

Mom hurried to the closet. “Just put this jacket on,” she told him. “We’ll find your coat tomorrow. There’s no time now.”

Jacob wished the jacket would somehow magically turn into his coat as he slid his arms into the sleeves. He looked down at the blue jacket with disappointment. It wasn’t nearly as awesome as his Christmas coat.

“Don’t worry,” Mom said, as she smiled with encouragement. “We’ll find it later.”

Jacob tried to smile back, but he couldn’t. His heart felt tight and heavy. He hated to lose things that he really liked.

The next day, Jacob woke up earlier and went through the coat closet. He lifted the vacuum out, picked up the coats and jackets that had fallen on the floor, and checked every hanger, but couldn’t find the missing Christmas coat.

He frowned as he reached for the blue jacket again. Where could his coat be? He had looked everywhere. It was as if it had been swallowed by an invisible snow monster.

As Jacob walked to the bus with his head hanging, a thought occurred to him: What if it wasn’t lost? What if it was stolen? Had he left it at school and forgotten? He thought hard and decided that the possibility of his coat being stolen was very likely.

During the next few days, Jacob stopped looking for his coat and instead started looking for who the thief might be. Everyone became a suspect, and it wasn’t long before he found someone to blame. When Mom picked him up from school, he noticed a boy his age walking to the bus with his Christmas coat on!

“There’s my coat!” he cried, pointing an accusing finger at the boy heading for the bus. “Let’s go get it!” Jacob reached for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Mom said. “Maybe it’s just a coat that looks like yours.”

Jacob shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone wear a coat like mine until today. There’s no way it could be anyone else’s coat but mine.” He turned around and looked at the boy who was boarding the bus. “He’s the same size as me. I’ll take it and turn the sleeve inside out, and my name will be there. You’ll see.”

Mom shook her head. “I don’t know, Jake. I would hate to find out that it really isn’t yours. We better go home and check really thoroughly one more time.”

As the van pulled away, Jacob’s heart sank. He had looked everywhere thoroughly. He knew his Christmas coat wasn’t at home. His coat was on that boy!

When they arrived home, Mom went with him to the coat closet. Together, they systematically began removing everything inside—the vacuum, the coats on the floor, and boxes. At the back of the closet was a box that Jacob hadn’t seen since Christmas. It was filled with Christmas decorations and still smelled like cinnamon sticks and pinecones.

After Mom lifted the box out, she asked, “Jake, would you crawl in there and see if you can see anything else?”

Jacob crawled into the closet on his hands and knees. “My coat!” he cried. “I found my coat!” It had been well hidden by the box. As he emerged from the closet, he turned the sleeve inside out, just to be sure. His name was clearly printed on the inside. Jacob held it up for Mom to see.

She nodded her head. “I am so glad that you didn’t accuse that boy. Can you imagine how awful you would have felt, and how awful you would have made the other boy feel?”

Jacob’s smiling face changed to a quiet, thoughtful one. He hadn’t worried about what might happen if he accused someone falsely. His only worry had been finding the coat or the person who took it. As he looked at his mom, relief spread through his body. He was glad she had insisted that they check the closet one more time.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jacob said.

“I’m glad you found your coat, and I think you found something else too,” she replied.

“What?”

“You found that it’s best to be sure you’re right before accusing someone of doing wrong.”

Jacob nodded. “And that’s something worth finding!”