Gospel Story Finder

Unfortunately, there was a time in my life when I was motivated by titles and authority. It really began innocently. As I was preparing to serve a full-time mission, my older brother was made a zone leader in his mission. I heard so many positive things said about him that I couldn’t help but want those things said about me. I hoped for and may have even prayed for a similar position.
Thankfully, as I served my mission, I learned a powerful lesson. Last conference I was reminded of that lesson.
Perhaps my first lesson about truly good Saints without guile was learned when I was a young missionary. I moved into an area with an elder I didn’t know. I had heard other missionaries talk about how he had never received any leadership assignments and how he struggled with the Korean language despite having been in the country a long time. But as I got to know this elder, I found he was one of the most obedient and faithful missionaries I had known. He studied when it was time to study; he worked when it was time to work. He left the apartment on time and returned on time. He was diligent in studying Korean even though the language was especially difficult for him.
When I realized the comments I had heard were untrue, I felt like this missionary was being misjudged as unsuccessful. I wanted to tell the whole mission what I had discovered about this elder. I shared with my mission president my desire to correct this misunderstanding. His response was, “Heavenly Father knows this young man is a successful missionary, and so do I.” He added, “And now you know too, so who else really matters?” This wise mission president taught me what was important in service, and it wasn’t praise, position, power, honor, or authority. This was a great lesson for a young missionary who was too focused on titles.

Shortly after I returned from my mission, my stake president asked me to interpret for Elder Hartman Rector Jr., then of the Seventy, who had come to Mendoza, Argentina, to preside over a stake conference. These marvelous opportunities have continued over the years. I interpreted for President Thomas S. Monson and other General Authorities during the 11 dedicatory sessions of the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
During four of those sessions, I read the dedicatory prayer in Spanish from the pulpit in the celestial room. My voice broke up several times because of my emotions; tears filled my eyes and flowed down my face. I was reading the inspired prayers and promises for my country from Heavenly Father, who lives and reveals His will, just as He did 12 years earlier through my mission president when I accepted the challenge to learn English.
I also interpreted for the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, during the four dedicatory sessions of the Montevideo Uruguay Temple and the four dedicatory sessions of the Asunción Paraguay Temple.
It’s difficult for me to explain how sacred those moments were for me when I stood alongside prophets, seers, and revelators in the Lord’s house. I felt somewhat like Peter, James, and John when they had the amazing experience of seeing Jesus transfigured. Peter expressed my feelings when he told Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here” (Matt. 17:4).

Trials and tests apply to rich and poor alike. Years ago I was asked to perform an operation upon a very wealthy man. A surgical biopsy confirmed that he had an advanced cancer that had spread throughout his body. As I reported this news, his immediate response was to rely upon his wealth. He would go anywhere or do anything to treat his condition. He thought he could buy his way back to health. But he soon passed away. Someone asked, “How much wealth did he leave?” The answer, of course, was, “All of it!”
His priorities were set upon things of the world. His ladder of success had been leaning against the wrong wall. I think of him when I read this scripture: “Behold, your days of probation are past; ye have procrastinated the day of your salvation until it is … too late.”

I remember on one occasion a frustrated and angry ward member speaking quite sharply and unkindly to a bishop, criticizing his leadership. As I listened I found my anger rising, feeling this criticism was unfair and inappropriate, for I had such great respect for this bishop and knew of his great sacrifices and able leadership. After the ward member concluded his comments, I was ready to provide a strong defense for the bishop and tell the ward member how I felt about his behavior.

But before I could speak, this great bishop, with his eyes moist from the stinging rebuke, replied with such genuine love to the member. “Thank you for sharing your comments,” he said. “I know that I have shortcomings, and you have shown me where I can improve. I commit to do better. Now, what can I do to make things better for you?”

A spirit came into that room and a change came over the ward member—a visible softening—and he apologized. The bishop then expressed his genuine love for this man and the meeting came to a close. I remained in the room until the ward member had left and I was alone with the bishop. I couldn’t speak; I was so moved by what I had just witnessed. It was charity, pure and sweet.

The bishop looked over at me, and he could tell that I was emotional. He asked if I was all right.

I couldn’t answer for a moment. I then told him that I had just witnessed one of the most beautiful, Christlike experiences of my life and thanked him for it.

What an awful day! Today at school I didn’t talk to anyone, I didn’t play with anyone at recess, and I didn’t sit with anyone at lunch. My family has been living in this new town for two weeks, and I still don’t have any friends!
As I walked up to my new house, I saw my younger sister playing with the girl from across the street. She waved. “Hi, Rosa!”
I turned my head and didn’t say anything back. Three girls on our street are the same age as my younger sister. How many girls on our street are my age? None. Not one!
I pushed through the front door and dropped my backpack on the floor.
“Sister Garcia called from the Primary to remind you about activity day today,” Mom said.
“I don’t want to go to activity day,” I grumbled. “I just spent all day with kids I don’t know. I don’t want to spend another hour with girls I don’t know!” Talking to people you don’t know might be easy for some people but not for me.
“I know it’s been hard moving here and leaving all your old friends,” Mom said. “I’ve been praying that we will make some new friends soon.”
“Me too,” I said. “I pray for that every night, but so far Heavenly Father hasn’t answered my prayers. It’s like He isn’t listening.”
Mom squeezed my hand. “Maybe the call from Sister Garcia is your answer,” she said.
“How can that be the answer to my prayers?” I asked.
“Sometimes when we pray, Heavenly Father expects us to do something to help answer our prayers,” Mom said. “It’s called acting in faith. We have to do more than just pray. Sometimes we have to act in faith before we get the blessing.”
“Could it be possible?” I thought. “Could going to activity day really be the answer to my prayers?”
Later, Mom asked me if I wanted a ride to the activity. I took a deep breath and nodded. Even though I was afraid, it felt like the right thing to do.
My heart was beating fast as we arrived at the church. Sister Garcia welcomed me and led me to a chair at the table. Her kind voice and warm smile helped me feel better.
A girl across the table looked at me. “Hi, I’m Teresa,” she said. “Are you new?”
There was a lump in my throat, so I just nodded.
“I think I’ve seen you at school,” Teresa said. “What class are you in?”
I swallowed nervously. “Mrs. Lee’s class,” I told her.
“I’m in the class right next door!” she said.
We talked about our classes and our favorite subjects. As we talked, I was surprised at how much we had in common. We even both liked roller-skating!
When Mom picked me up after the activity, I jumped into the car.
“Mom, can I play with my new friend Teresa?” I waved at Teresa, and she waved back.
Mom thought it was a great idea, and for the rest of the evening, my new friend and I roller-skated up and down my street.
That night as I knelt by my bed, I thanked Heavenly Father for answering my prayers. At first I was scared to go to activity day, but I’m glad I did. I’m glad I was brave enough to act in faith.

Harry de Leyer was late to the auction on that snowy day in 1956, and all of the good horses had already been sold. The few that remained were old and spent and had been bought by a company that would salvage them.
Harry, the riding master at a girls’ school in New York, was about to leave when one of these horses—an uncared-for gray gelding with ugly-looking wounds on its legs—caught his eye. The animal still bore the marks that had been made by a heavy work harness, evidence to the hard life he had led. But something about him captured Harry’s attention, so he offered $80 for him.
It was snowing when Harry’s children saw the horse for the first time, and because of the coat of snow on the horse’s back, the children named him “Snowman.”
Harry took good care of the horse, which turned out to be a gentle and reliable friend—a horse the girls liked to ride because he was steady and didn’t startle like some of the others. In fact, Snowman made such rapid improvement that a neighbor purchased him for twice what Harry had originally paid.
But Snowman kept disappearing from the neighbor’s pasture—sometimes ending up in adjoining potato fields, other times back at Harry’s. It appeared that the horse must have jumped over the fences between the properties, but that seemed impossible—Harry had never seen Snowman jump over anything much higher than a fallen log.
But eventually, the neighbor’s patience came to an end, and he insisted Harry take back the horse.
For years, Harry’s great dream had been to produce a champion jumping horse. He’d had moderate success in the past, but in order to compete at the highest levels, he knew he would have to buy a pedigreed horse that had been specifically bred to jump. And that kind of pedigree would cost far more than he could afford.
Snowman was already getting old—he was eight when Harry had purchased him—and he had been badly treated. But, apparently, Snowman wanted to jump, so Harry decided to see what the horse could do.
What Harry saw made him think that maybe his horse had a chance to compete.
In 1958, Harry entered Snowman in his first competition. Snowman stood among the beautifully bred champion horses, looking very much out of place. Other horse breeders called Snowman a “flea-bitten gray.”
But a wonderful, unbelievable thing happened that day.
Snowman won!
Harry continued to enter Snowman in other competitions, and Snowman continued to win.
Audiences cheered every time Snowman won an event. He became a symbol of how extraordinary an ordinary horse could be. He appeared on television. Stories and books were written about him.
As Snowman continued to win, one buyer offered $100,000 for the old plow horse, but Harry would not sell. In 1958 and 1959, Snowman was named “Horse of the Year.” Eventually, the gray gelding—who had once been marked for sale to a low bidder—was inducted into the show jumping Hall of Fame.
For many, Snowman was much more than a horse. He became an example of the hidden, untapped potential that lies within each of us.

One day my friend was passing out birthday invitations to kids in our class. Instead of giving me one, she said, “I’m not inviting you to my party.” I was very sad. I decided to get her a present anyway. I know I can be like Jesus when I do nice things even if others don’t include me. Sometimes it is hard to do, but I love my friends even when they don’t include me. I know that’s how Jesus wants us to be.
Lily E., age 6, Arizona, USA

“Thank you, President, I’ll be there tomorrow.”
What a great man, I thought to myself as I hung up the telephone. President Jerry E. Callister of the Mississippi Jackson Mission had just extended a two-week mission call to me to serve the Lord in the Bossier City, Louisiana, area. What a way to find out what true missionary work is like, I said to myself over and over.
I spent the next 24 hours packing, praying, and preparing myself for everything I could possibly come in contact with during the next two weeks. I prayed that I would be helpful to the missionaries, Elders Abbott and Watkins, with whom I would serve.
Saturday came quickly. My family drove me to Bossier, where we ate lunch before I called the elders from a pay phone across the street. After what seemed like an eternity but was only 10 or 15 minutes, the two young men, only a few years older than myself, pulled alongside us in their late-model mission car. I didn’t know what to do or how to act, but Mom quickly nudged me towards them. I timidly introduced myself to Elder Abbott. What a spiritual giant; I can’t possibly be of help to him, I thought to myself. And I questioned why I was out there.
After meeting Elder Watkins, I had nearly convinced myself that I couldn’t be of help to either of them.
I said good-bye to my family, and before I knew it the elders and I were out on the streets knocking on doors. I was amazed at how eloquently the elders approached the people. After an hour of tracting, Elder Abbott turned to me and said, “This house is yours.” I almost panicked. Out of nowhere I had this bone-chilling, nerve-deadening feeling.
“I can’t,” I said embarrassed.
“Yes you can,” he said. “You’ve got to think positively. There may be a potential convert in there.”
“Okay, okay,” I answered.
Knock, Knock.
As the door opened I could feel my heart sink down to my socks. The room was filled with drunken teenagers—I was only a teenager myself. As I began the door approach they began mocking and tempting us. Why me, Lord? I silently asked.
I didn’t knock on another door the rest of the evening. Later that night I began thinking about my day as a “full-time” missionary. Why did I have such feelings? Why was I scared to talk to people about the gospel? How would I be able to serve a two-year mission if I couldn’t even stand up to people and share the truths of the gospel for two weeks? I decided that there was only one way to get help with my concerns.
As I knelt down in humble prayer and poured out the desires of my heart to Heavenly Father, a peaceful feeling came over me. A still, small voice told me to search the scriptures. I began flipping through the pages of my Bible when I saw a verse outlined in red. It was a seminary scripture from the previous year. As I glanced down at it I knew my prayer had been answered. A warm feeling of insight and understanding came over me as I read the verse: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Rom. 1:16).
Never before had this scripture come across to me with such astounding force. “The power of God unto salvation,” I said aloud. That was the key. I need not be ashamed of the gospel because it is the very key to salvation. Without it, not one soul will ever progress after this life.
The next morning I awoke with an inexpressible desire to spread the gospel.
Now five of the people I helped teach in those two weeks are members of the Church. What a strength we can receive through listening to the promptings of the Spirit!
I vividly remember the feeling I had as the Holy Ghost bore witness to me of that important scriptural message found in Romans. And to this day when I am confronted with an opportunity to share the gospel, that same still, small voice whispers in my ear, “the power of … salvation, the power of … salvation.”

It all started because Sister Carol Bowes, the seminary teacher in the Roxboro Branch, Raleigh North Carolina Stake thought she’d like to teach her class the theme song for the seminary year. The four young men in the class, Marty Tompkins, Todd Fuqua, Wesley Stone, and Deron Harris learned the song and practiced conscientiously. Then the opportunity came to sing at seminary graduation. The young men, who had never sung in public before, practiced once a week for four months. They performed so well that when a floor show number was needed for a regional dance, they were asked to sing. Their group increased to five when Mike Tompkins became old enough to join them.
These five young men, with two nonmembers, formed the first basketball team the Roxboro Branch has ever had.

I was suffering from depression and having problems with my family. It was one of the hardest times in my life. My family was disconnected, and we didn’t get along well. I wondered things like, “What’s the reason to go on? Why am I here?” I felt very empty.
Then I was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My friend who invited me to church always strives to live the gospel and share it with others. She followed the Holy Spirit by inviting me to church. The time I spent in church was very nice. Attending seminary with my classmates filled me with a lot of love. After eight months of getting to know the Church and learning about Jesus Christ, I was baptized.
I felt like Jesus Christ saved me from many difficult things I was going through during that time. I know that He is the one who pulled me through.
Alessia H., age 16, El Oro, Ecuador
Enjoys riding horses, spending time with family, and doing extreme sports.

When I was young, my family lived on a farm. My chore was to feed the cows. The barn was a long walk from my house. This wasn’t an easy chore for me to do.
Some days I had to walk in the dark. When it was time to walk back home, I felt so scared! My house seemed so far away. As soon as I stepped through the gate near my house, I would run the rest of the way home.
I could see the light coming through the windows of my house. If I focused on that light, I wouldn’t be as scared. The light gave me a purpose. But when I took my focus away from the light, my fear felt overpowering.

As the wagon drew near to Bountiful, … we came to the site of a log house with a dirt roof on one part of it and another part adjoining on the south that had been built up to the square with logs unchinked without a roof, and this, my mother turned to explain to me, was her home. But soon mother and children climbed out of the wagon and went into the house. …

No one was at home when the little group entered, much to the disappointment of the mother as to the children, for, of course, we were anxious to meet our other sister, “Annie,” who was remembered lovingly by us. Our mother seemed annoyed, for she had expected her other daughter at home, perhaps with supper ready. It was only a short time, however, until “Sister Annie” came in and what a charming thing she was—bright, blue-eyed, fine long hair combed back from her face. Everything about her seemed so perfectly clean and wholesome, and to my eyes she was beautiful too, and spritely. She seemed to be everywhere about the house at once, and the meal that our mother had expected was soon under way. …

… What was left of the day was the wonderful meal prepared by Annie. Not much variety of food, for our mother was desperately poor, but what there was, was fit for princes—just white light buttermilk biscuits with butter, clear water from the creek, and dark, sweet, sticky fluid called “Molasses.” It was heartily enjoyed, Mary and me furnishing the principle appetites. How long the talk of the reunion lasted is not remembered, but it must have been far into the night. With the awakening of the next day, my life in Utah had begun.

With this unique capability and emphasis on the worth of souls in the sight of God also comes the opportunity for confusion. We live in a materialistic world. Some become confused and seek identity through riches or the accolades of men. The Savior makes it very clear in his teachings that it is not possible to realize the identity of which I speak through such means. In Luke 18:18–25 we read:
“And a certain ruler asked him, saying, Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?
“And Jesus said unto him, …
“Thou knowest the commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honour thy father and thy mother.
“And he said, all these have I kept from my youth up.
“Now when Jesus heard these things, he said unto him, Yet lackest thou one thing: sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.
“And when he heard this, he was very sorrowful: for he was very rich.
“And when Jesus saw that he was very sorrowful, he said, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God.
“For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
It was not that the man was rich but that he coveted his riches and would not share his wealth with the poor.
Another example is also recorded in Luke:
“And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully:
“And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits?
“And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods.
“And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.
“But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?
“So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.” (Luke 12:16–21.)
Contrast these with the story of a sixteen-year-old priest who answered the telephone one day to hear the voice of a popular disc jockey on a local radio station. He was asked a question and when he answered it correctly was informed he had won an expensive sports car. It seemed like a dream come true for a teenage boy. A loving bishop was concerned about what such a car might do to the boy, thinking it might draw him away from all we hold dear. He asked him about his feelings. The bishop could hardly believe his ears when the young man indicated he was not going to take the car but would accept a cash award instead. He said, “Now my mission is paid for.” What an outstanding example of proper balance in an attitude toward worldly wealth or recognition and Christlike values.

I have never before read such a profitable and edifying publication as the Liahona (Spanish). I’m a young person who has never really cared to read. And when I started to read the magazine, I didn’t think I would find anything that would motivate me to search the scriptures and help me understand the message of the Lord Jesus Christ. But as I read the January 2000 issue, the talk “The Faith of a Sparrow: Faith and Trust in the Lord Jesus Christ” by Elder H. Bruce Stucki of the Seventy had a real impact on my life—so much so that I have continued to study the scriptures.
Thanks to our Heavenly Father and His missionaries, I have found the truth, and I am going to be baptized. Thank you for preparing missionaries to teach people like me.
Alexi Antonio López López,Oriental Ward, San Miguel El Salvador Stake
Note: Brother López was baptized on 18 March 2000, shortly after this letter was written.

It was just a year ago next week when the telephone rang in my office and I answered it to hear the voice on the other end of the line say, “This is Doug Snarr speaking.” My mind turned back some fifteen or twenty years to the time when Doug first came to my office. He had recently moved from Idaho Falls to expand his sign business into Utah. I had difficulty communicating with him at that time because he stuttered quite badly. But now, on the phone, he said without any stutter, “I want you to come over to the Salt Palace tomorrow afternoon at 4:40. I’m sending a ticket to you.”
I knew that it was important to Doug, or he would not have asked me to come; I said, “I’ll be there.”
The following afternoon at 4:40 I sat in the Salt Palace on the second row. My seat had been reserved. As I looked around, I estimated that there were approximately ten thousand people present. Again I looked at my ticket; it read fifteen dollars. Noticing that I had a better seat than some of the others in the audience, I reasoned that the average cost of a seat for one day was about twelve dollars. I multiplied twelve dollars by ten thousand people and I was impressed.
Don Hutson had been speaking when I arrived; he was an excellent speaker. He finished at five o’clock, and the person who was conducting the session came to the podium and introduced Doug Snarr. The lights went out, Doug stepped to the podium, and the spotlight came on. There stood Doug to give his talk. He told the audience that he had been raised in Idaho Falls; his father owned a potato farm about five miles west of the city. When he was young, he said, he stuttered so badly that he could not communicate. But while hoeing spuds he used to talk to the potato vines. As long as he talked to the potato vines he could get along quite well, but when he tried to talk to people he stuttered so badly that he could not be understood. As he stood in the field one day he looked to the east at the city of Idaho Falls and said to himself, “I must get into that city and meet people or I will never overcome my stuttering.”
One day he read an ad in the newspaper for a custodian in one of the stores in Idaho Falls. He knew that he could not get that job unless he offered something more than others would offer. Doug was quite a good artist, so he told the store manager how badly he wanted that job and said that if he got the job he would not only keep the store clean but would paint the display signs and thus save the cost of one employee. What employer could resist such an offer? Needless to say, Doug got the job of cleaning the store and painting the signs.
At the same time, Doug was going to high school, and there was a young girl in his class who he thought was the most beautiful creature that he had ever seen. He did not have the courage to ask her for a date, so he got one of his friends to set him up on a blind date with her. On the big night when he was to keep the date, he paced back and forth in front of her house for thirty or forty minutes, until he just about wore a path in the concrete sidewalk. Finally he got up the courage to knock on the door. The girl’s father answered the door and said, “Who are you?” When Doug tried to answer he could not say a word—he just stammered and stuttered. Just at the moment when he was ready to sink into oblivion, the young lady came tripping down the circular stairs. Seeing Doug, she called out to her father, “Daddy, meet Doug Snarr,” and saved the day.
After graduating from high school, Doug came to BYU. He registered for a class in religion; and on the first day, wanting to be as inconspicuous as possible, he slipped in the door and sat in one of the back seats. But the teacher looked down the roll, put his finger on one of the names, and asked, “Will Doug Snarr please come up and offer the invocation?” Doug walked to the front of the room and completely failed—he could only stammer and stutter. It was a disaster. After the class was over the teacher stopped him and said, “Doug if you will continue to come to my class, I promise that I will never ask you to pray before the class again.”
Doug said to himself, “That is not the answer. I must learn how to stand before a class and pray without stuttering.”
One day, while sitting in the barber shop waiting for his turn for a haircut, he opened a magazine and saw an ad about a school in St. Louis, Missouri, that taught people how to speak and to overcome stuttering. He jumped from his chair and, taking the magazine with him, hurried to his room. He packed his bags, took the next bus to Idaho Falls and, showing the ad to his father, said, “I want one thousand dollars to go to St. Louis, Missouri.”
His father said, “I’ll check it out first.” Three days later he said, “Doug, it’s a hoax. They can’t do it.”
Doug responded, “Nevertheless, I’m going to that school.”
His father said, “If you go to it, you’ll do it at your own expense.”
Doug had a friend who could talk. Since his friend could talk but could not paint signs, and since Doug could paint signs but could not talk, they made a good combination; they went into the sign business together. The traditional way to advertise with signs is to put a picture on a rectangular board. Doug discarded the rectangle and instead used the shape of the object he wanted to represent. It was a unique approach, and they were very successful. Within a few months—by September of that year—Doug had saved enough money to go to St. Louis, Missouri. As he boarded the train and they bid him goodbye, his family and friends said, “Don’t come back until you overcome your stuttering.”
Upon arriving in St. Louis, Doug went to the school and met the man who was in charge of it. He learned that the man had recognized that when stutterers sing they do not stutter. Therefore, he reasoned that if a stutterer could get a rhythm into his speaking he could overcome his problem. To get the rhythm, the stutterer swung his arm and spoke with the rhythm of his arm.
After several weeks Doug, feeling that he was not making enough progress, became despondent. He knelt and prayed to his Heavenly Father for help. While dong so, he suddenly realized that if he was going to expect help from the Lord, he had to do what the Lord had asked him to do. He got off his knees, called a cab, and went to the nearest branch of the Church. He arrived and found a sign on the meetinghouse door that announced the time for sacrament meeting—it was over for the day, but the sign also gave the name of the branch president and his address. Doug had the cab driver take him there. He knocked on the door; and the branch president’s wife answered. Doug said, swinging his arm in rhythm, “My–name–is–Doug–Snarr.” A little girl who had also come to the door ran into the other room and said to her sister, “Come see; there’s a man at the door that talks with his arm.”
Doug became a very good friend of the branch president, and his family, and they invited him to live with them. One day they invited Doug to go with them to visit the wife’s sister in a distant town. When they arrived and the sister met Doug, she said, “What you need to do is give a two-and-a-half-minute talk in Sunday School.” She picked up the telephone, called the bishop, and said, “Bishop, I have a young man here who needs to give a two-and-a-half-minute talk this Sunday. Can you arrange it? It was arranged.
The following Sunday, Doug stood at the pulpit holding on with both hands for fear of falling over. Then he realized that he could not use both hands to hold on the pulpit; he needed one of his arms to establish his speaking rhythm. He raised his right arm to the square to begin—then he realized that he could give that talk without the use of his arm. He put his hand back on the pulpit and gave his talk without a single stutter. Can you imagine how much that meant to him? He knew that he could overcome his problem of stuttering.
When Doug completed his schooling and returned home to Idaho Falls, the first place he visited was his girlfriend’s house. He knocked on the door; the father answered. Using his arm to establish the rhythm he said, “My–name–is–Doug–Snarr.” He married the girl; he said that it was the best thing he ever did.
Doug returned to the sign business and plastered Idaho with his unique signs. Then he came south to do the same on the highways of Utah. He also made it his goal not only to overcome his stuttering, but to go on tour and speak with the best thinkers in America. After preparing himself he noticed one day that a Positive Thinking Rally was being held in Dallas, Texas. He flew down to attend the rally and when it was over visited with Paul Harvey and his associates. He told them he wanted to be on their circuit. After two hours he finally convinced them.
“We’ll give you thirty minutes,” they said.
Doug responded, “No, I won’t settle for thirty minutes. I want just as much time as Paul Harvey or Don Hutson or Art Linkletter or Zig Zeigler or Ira Hays or any of the others, or I won’t go on.”
Finally, after another two hours, he convinced them that they should give him a full fifty-five minutes. They said “Be in Charlottesville, North Carolina, Wednesday of next week.”
So Doug made his debut in Charlottesville, and the morning following his talk the newspaper headlines read, “Charlottesville, North Carolina Adopts Doug T. Snarr.”
Back in the Salt Palace on the second row, I felt that this was really Doug Snarr’s homecoming. It was the first time that he had spoken in his own area. His friends and family were there, and the spotlight was focused on him. I have never in all my life heard a more dynamic speaker. He stole the show from Paul Harvey, Art Linkletter, Zig Zeigler, Ira Hays, and the others. Now, if any of you are called to serve a mission in Alaska, he will be your mission president in Anchorage—that is where he is today.

Then later on he had a heart condition, and I think President Kimball won’t object to me telling just a little of the details. He was so seriously ill that he felt that something had to be done. Dr. Russell Nelson (noted Utah heart surgeon) was his doctor. He told him that his chances were about fifty-fifty. But if he didn’t have the operation, he couldn’t expect to live many months, but if he did, there was greater hope. We discussed it in President Lee’s office for some time. Finally, President Kimball said, “I think I should be operated on.” I said, “President Kimball, you’ve made the right decision, I’m sure.”
Then he asked to be administered to by President Lee and myself. We administered to him and Dr. Nelson said, “To be operating on the President of the Council of the Twelve, an apostle of God, is a great, great responsibility, the greatest I’ve ever had.” And he said, “President Kimball is going to have a double operation.” At that time he was the only one in history I believe who had undergone, or was going to undergo, a double heart operation at that age. And Doctor Nelson said, “I’d like to have a blessing by the priesthood that I might be guided and directed and do the things that will help to save his life.”
Now, brethren, does the priesthood mean anything to you? It doesn’t mean anything to you unless you live worthy of it. So whether you are a boy twelve years of age, or whether you are seventy years of age, wherever you are, live worthy of the priesthood. Honor that priesthood. Thank the Lord that you are a bearer of the priesthood, and pray night and morning, every day, with a determination that you will do those things which the Lord would have you do. And I want to assure you that you will be happier, you will be more successful, you will be more loved and respected, and the Lord will be pleased with you if you do that which he has asked you to do.
Let us do those things which will make us happy and successful and will prepare ourselves to go back into his presence, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Kate looked at the kitchen table covered with dirty supper dishes, trying to decide where to start. “It’s hard to believe that summer’s almost over,” she sighed as she started to stack the plates.
“I know what you mean,” Becky said. “It’s our last week of summer vacation, and we still haven’t gone to the new water park. Do you think Mom will take us there if we ask?”
“Maybe,” Kate said as she carried the plates to the sink. “But I know that Mom’s really busy this week. And we did a lot of fun things this summer. We just didn’t go to the water park.”
Becky followed Kate back into the dining room. She leaned against the table while her sister gathered up the glasses and utensils. “Yes—if you call driving all day to get to a family reunion fun,” she muttered.
“It was fun,” said Kate. “You’re just being ornery.” She picked up four glasses and headed back to the kitchen. Becky followed.
“It was all right,” Becky agreed, “but I’ll bet we’re the only two kids in our whole school who haven’t gone to the water park.”
Losing patience, Kate turned to Becky. “Will you please stop complaining and help me with the dishes?”
Rolling her eyes, Becky opened the dishwasher and was starting to load the dirty dishes, when their mom came in.
“Thank you for doing the dishes,” Mom said. “I appreciate all the work the two of you do.”
“No problem, Mom.” Kate smiled.
“Yeah,” Becky agreed. “We were just saying that it’s too bad that the summer’s almost over and we never made it to the new water park.”
“That is a shame,” Mom said. She thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll make you a deal. I have some errands to run tomorrow morning. If you two will clean the garage while I’m gone, I’ll stop and buy tickets to the water park, and we can go when I get home.”
“That would be great!” Becky exclaimed.
“It’s a deal,” Kate said.
“Cleaning the garage is a big job. Do you think you can do it without me?”
“No problem,” Becky said.
The next morning Kate jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. Mom had already left. “Good morning,” Kate greeted her grandmother.
“Good morning, dear. Are you ready for your breakfast?”
Kate nodded and followed her grandmother into the kitchen. “Becky and I are going to clean the garage. Then Mom is going to take us to the new water park.”
“That’s what your mother told me,” said Grandma. “Would you please go wake Becky.”
“Sure.”
“What’s the big hurry?” Becky grumped when Kate tried to talk her into getting up.
“We need to eat breakfast and start cleaning the garage.”
“No, we don’t. You heard what Mom said. She’s picking up the tickets while she’s out. She’s not going to tell us that we can’t go after she’s already bought the tickets.”
Kate frowned. “But we made a deal.”
“If you’re so worried, you go clean the garage. Tell Grandma that I’ll have breakfast later. Right now I need to figure out which swimming suit I want to wear.”
Kate trudged back down the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” Grandma asked.
“Becky says she’s not going to help. She thinks Mom will let us go even if we don’t clean the garage.”
“What do you think?” Grandma asked.
“We said we would clean the garage,” said Kate, “so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Well,” said Grandma, “you’ve made your decision, and you’ll have to let Becky make hers. Sometimes we want to make other people’s decisions for them, but we can’t.”
After breakfast, Kate marched out to the garage and looked around, trying to figure out where to start. She decided to start by moving everything she needed to so that she could sweep out the leaves that had collected around the edges. At first she was angry at Becky for not helping, but soon her thoughts turned to the job that she was doing.
When Mom arrived home, Kate was organizing cans of food storage on a shelf.
“Where’s your sister?” Mom asked.
“In the house,” Kate answered.
“Isn’t she helping?”
Kate shook her head.
Just then Becky appeared in the doorway. “Hi, Mom,” she said cheerfully. “Did you get the tickets?”
“Yes I did,” said Mom. “Did you help clean the garage?”
“I was just coming to help.”
Mom shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Becky looked over at Kate and smiled an I-told-you-so smile. Her smile disappeared fast when Mom added, “You can finish cleaning it while Kate and I are at the water park.”
Becky’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t keep your end of the bargain, so you may not come with us.”
Becky couldn’t believe her ears. “But didn’t you already buy me a ticket?”
“I bought tickets for the girls who kept their promises and cleaned the garage. Did you keep your promise?”
Becky hung her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I thought that you’d let me go anyway.”
“You made a choice. You’ll have to live with the consequences.”
Tears streamed down Becky’s face. “That’s not fair.”
Mom put her arms around Becky. “I know it isn’t what you want,” Mom said, “but it is fair.”
Becky watched out the living room window as the car pulled away from the house. “I blew it, Grandma,” she said.
Grandma nodded. “You made a bad choice. What you need to do now is learn from your mistake. If your mom had taken you to the water park, you would have thought that it’s all right to make promises that you don’t intend to keep. And it isn’t. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so.”
“Now, I have a deal for you, if you are interested.”
Becky looked up. “What is it?”
“If you’ll go finish up the garage, when you’re done, we’ll bake some cookies for the family.”
“Chocolate chip?”
Grandma smiled. “Chocolate chip.”
“It’s a deal,” Becky said, heading toward the garage. “And this time I mean it.”

One Sunday I went to listen to the talk of a friend who had returned from a mission. When I arrived, I realized I didn’t know many people in the congregation, so I sat alone in the back of the chapel.
Soon the sacrament was being passed. There were only three of us on the long bench at the back of the chapel, with me on one side and an older couple on the other. I sat there silently, and when one of the deacons got to our row with the water, I moved toward the couple so the deacon wouldn’t have to walk all the way around the pews just to give the water to me.
But because I’d moved, the deacons were confused about whether I’d received the sacrament. After the deacons had handed their trays back to the priests, there was some discussion among them. I watched as one of the priests walked over to the bishop and asked him a question, with the bishop nodding in the affirmative. Next thing I knew, a deacon, with a bread tray in hand, was walking up to me, asking, “You got the bread, right?”
I nodded quickly, and the deacon returned to the front of the chapel. At first, I was embarrassed that I had caused an interruption. But then I thought of the spiritual implications of the situation: the priesthood holders, representatives of Jesus Christ, were concerned that I had not received the emblems of the body and the blood of Christ and went out of their way so I could participate fully in the ordinance.
The actions of the priesthood holders during that sacrament meeting reminded me of what Christ would do in a similar situation—He would go out of His way to minister to the one. Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin (1917–2008) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught that “true disciples of Jesus Christ have always been concerned for the one.”1
This experience with the sacrament also helped me better understand the sacredness of the ordinance and how it enables us to renew our covenants with Heavenly Father and become better disciples of Christ.

The privilege of serving the Lord on a mission is felt and demonstrated in many ways. One missionary had struggled with family problems since he was a boy. While still young, he was expelled from his home and went to live with another family who introduced him to the Church. The gospel gave him direction in life where his natural parents had not. A few years later, after becoming one of the best players on a college football team, he decided to serve a mission. Before leaving on his mission, he gave copies of the Book of Mormon to his friends at school. This included his team coaches, fellow players, and teachers. He distributed more than 200 copies before entering the Missionary Training Center.
The missionaries who looked upon a mission only as a sacrifice were often honestly dedicated to the Lord’s service. However, I found they had not experienced personal revelation and inspiration. They were usually less informed about the Savior. But as they studied their scriptures and came to know Him better, their hearts seemed to soften and enlarge. They began to more deeply feel His love and know of the importance of missionary work as a continuation of this love extended to others. Many of those who began by telling of their sacrifices left the Missionary Training Center talking about privilege.

At times the performance of duty, the response to a divine call, or the reaction to a spiritual prompting is not overwhelming. On occasion, however, the duty to respond is downright overpowering. I experienced such a situation prior to the general conference of April 1966. That’s 35 years ago, but I remember it vividly.
I had received my assignment to speak at one of the conference sessions and had prepared and committed to memory a message entitled “Meeting Your Goliath.” This was based on the account of the famous battle waged by David and Goliath of olden times.
Then I received a telephone call from President David O. McKay. The conversation went about like this: “Brother Monson, this is President McKay calling. How are you?”
I took a deep breath and answered, “Oh, I’m fine, President, and looking forward to conference.”
“That’s why I’m calling, Brother Monson. The Saturday morning session will be rebroadcast on Sunday as our Easter message to the world. I will be speaking to an Easter theme and would like you to join me and speak during that important session to that type of theme.”
“Of course, President. I will be happy to do so.”
That’s when the extent of this brief conversation really dawned on me. All of a sudden “Meeting Your Goliath” didn’t quite measure up to an Easter message. I knew I must begin to prepare all over again. There was so little time. Indeed, my “Goliath” stood before me.
That night I cleared the kitchen table and placed my typewriter on the tabletop along with a ream of bond paper, with a trusty wastepaper basket by my side to hold all the false starts that accompany such an assignment of preparation. I began at about 7:00 p.m. and had not written a satisfactory line by 1:00 a.m. The wastebasket was filled, but my mind certainly was not. What was I to do? The clock was running—indeed, it was racing. I paused to pray.
Soon thereafter there came to my mind the sadness of my neighbors Mark and Wilma Shumway in the recent loss of their youngest child. I thought to myself, “Perhaps I could speak directly to them and peripherally to all others, for who hasn’t lost a dear one and had occasion to grieve?” My fingers raced over the typewriter keyboard but could barely keep up with my thoughts.
As the first dim light of morning peered through our kitchen window, I had finished the message. The task remained to learn it and then deliver it to the world. Rarely have I struggled so hard to fill a prophetic assignment. However, Heavenly Father had heard my prayer. I shall never forget the experience.