Gospel Story Finder

Brian, a Latter-day Saint boy, attended a school run by another church. One day the children were being very noisy as the teacher tried to read from the Bible. She closed the Bible and said, “No wonder there are no prophets on the earth today. You children are so naughty that you wouldn’t listen to them anyway.” Brian had an important choice to make. He could remain silent, or he could tell his teacher what he believed. He gathered his courage, quietly raised his hand, and said, “Teacher, there is a prophet on the earth today. He lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the United States.” The teacher was very interested in this information and asked him to tell her more about his church. Just like Brian and Helaman’s stripling warriors, you can have a testimony that can give you the courage to choose the right. So, as it says in the scriptures, “Be of good courage, and do it” (Ezra 10:4).

Recently I received a letter from a friend of over 50 years who is not a member of our church. I had sent him some gospel-related reading, to which he responded: “Initially it was hard for me to follow the meaning of typical Mormon jargon, such as agency. Possibly a short vocabulary page would be helpful.”
I was surprised he did not understand what we mean by the word agency. I went to an online dictionary. Of the 10 definitions and usages of the word agency, none expressed the idea of making choices to act. We teach that agency is the ability and privilege God gives us to choose and “to act for [ourselves] and not to be acted upon.”1 Agency is to act with accountability and responsibility for our actions. Our agency is essential to the plan of salvation. With it we are “free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil.”2
The words of a familiar hymn teach us this principle very clearly:
Know this, that ev’ry soul is free
To choose his life and what he’ll be;
For this eternal truth is giv’n:
That God will force no man to heav’n.3
To answer my friend’s question and the questions of good men and women everywhere, let me share with you more of what we know about this meaning of agency.
Before we came to this earth, Heavenly Father presented His plan of salvation—a plan to come to earth and receive a body, choose to act between good and evil, and progress to become like Him and live with Him forever.
Our agency—our ability to choose and act for ourselves—was an essential element of this plan. Without agency we would be unable to make right choices and progress. Yet with agency we could make wrong choices, commit sin, and lose the opportunity to be with Heavenly Father again. For this reason a Savior would be provided to suffer for our sins and redeem us if we would repent. By His infinite Atonement, He brought about “the plan of mercy, to appease the demands of justice.”4
After Heavenly Father presented His plan, Lucifer stepped forward, saying, “Send me, … and I will redeem all mankind, that [not even] one soul shall … be lost … ; wherefore give me thine honor.”5 This plan was rejected by our Father, for it would have denied us our agency. Indeed, it was a plan of rebellion.
Then Jesus Christ, Heavenly Father’s “Beloved and Chosen [Son] from the beginning,” exercised His agency to say, “Father, thy will be done, and the glory be thine forever.”6 He would be our Savior—the Savior of the world.
Because of Lucifer’s rebellion, a great spiritual conflict ensued. Each of Heavenly Father’s children had the opportunity to exercise the agency Heavenly Father had given him or her. We chose to have faith in the Savior Jesus Christ—to come unto Him, follow Him, and accept the plan Heavenly Father presented for our sakes. But a third of Heavenly Father’s children did not have faith to follow the Savior and chose to follow Lucifer, or Satan, instead.7
And God said, “Wherefore, because that Satan rebelled against me, and sought to destroy the agency of man, which I, the Lord God, had given him, … I caused that he should be cast down.”8 Those who followed Satan lost the opportunity to receive a mortal body, live on earth, and progress. Because of the way they used their agency, they lost their agency.
Today the only power Satan and his followers have is the power to tempt and try us. Their only joy is to make us “miserable like unto [themselves].”9 Their only happiness comes when we are disobedient to the Lord’s commandments.
But think of it: in our premortal state we chose to follow the Savior Jesus Christ! And because we did, we were allowed to come to earth. I testify that by making the same choice to follow the Savior now, while we are here on earth, we will obtain an even greater blessing in the eternities. But let it be known: we must continue to choose to follow the Savior. Eternity is at stake, and our wise use of agency and our actions are essential that we might have eternal life.
Throughout His life our Savior showed us how to use our agency. As a boy in Jerusalem, He deliberately chose to “be about [His] Father’s business.”10 In His ministry, He obediently chose “to do the will of [His] Father.”11 In Gethsemane, He chose to suffer all things, saying, “Not my will, but thine, be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.”12 On the cross, He chose to love His enemies, praying, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”13 And then, so that He could finally demonstrate that He was choosing for Himself, He was left alone. “[Father,] why hast thou forsaken me?” He asked.14 At last, He exercised His agency to act, enduring to the end, until He could say, “It is finished.”15
Though He “was in all points tempted like as we are,”16 with every choice and every action He exercised the agency to be our Savior—to break the chains of sin and death for us. And by His perfect life, He taught us that when we choose to do the will of our Heavenly Father, our agency is preserved, our opportunities increase, and we progress.
Evidence of this truth is found throughout the scriptures. Job lost everything he had yet chose to remain faithful, and he gained the eternal blessings of God. Mary and Joseph chose to follow the warning of an angel to flee into Egypt, and the life of the Savior was preserved. Joseph Smith chose to follow the instructions of Moroni, and the Restoration unfolded as prophesied. Whenever we choose to come unto Christ, take His name upon us, and follow His servants, we progress along the path to eternal life.
In our mortal journey, it is helpful to remember that the opposite is also true: when we don’t keep the commandments or follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost, our opportunities are reduced; our abilities to act and progress are diminished. When Cain took his brother’s life because he loved Satan more than God, his spiritual progress was stopped.
In my youth I learned an important lesson about how our actions may limit our freedom. One day my father assigned me to varnish a wooden floor. I made the choice to begin at the door and work my way into the room. When I was almost finished, I realized I had left myself no way to get out. There was no window or door on the other side. I had literally painted myself into a corner. I had no place to go. I was stuck.
Whenever we disobey, we spiritually paint ourselves into a corner and are captive to our choices. Though we are spiritually stuck, there is always a way back. Like repentance, turning around and walking across a newly varnished floor means more work—a lot of resanding and refinishing! Returning to the Lord isn’t easy, but it is worth it.
As we understand the challenge of repenting, we appreciate the blessings of the Holy Ghost to guide our agency and Heavenly Father, who gives us commandments and strengthens and sustains us in keeping them. We also understand how obedience to the commandments ultimately protects our agency.
For example, when we hearken to the Word of Wisdom, we escape the captivity of poor health and addiction to substances that literally rob us of our ability to act for ourselves.
As we obey the counsel to avoid and get out of debt now, we use our agency and obtain the liberty to use our disposable income for helping and blessing others.
When we follow the prophets’ counsel to hold family home evening, family prayer, and family scripture study, our homes become an incubator for our children’s spiritual growth. There we teach them the gospel, bear our testimonies, express our love, and listen as they share their feelings and experiences. By our righteous choices and actions, we liberate them from darkness by increasing their ability to walk in the light.
The world teaches many falsehoods about agency. Many think we should “eat, drink, and be merry; … and if it so be that we are guilty, God will beat us with a few stripes, and at last we shall be saved.”17 Others embrace secularism and deny God. They convince themselves that there is no “opposition in all things”18 and, therefore, “whatsoever a man [does is] no crime.”19 This “destroy[s] the wisdom of God and his eternal purposes.”20
Contrary to the world’s secular teaching, the scriptures teach us that we do have agency, and our righteous exercise of agency always makes a difference in the opportunities we have and our ability to act upon them and progress eternally.
For example, through the prophet Samuel, the Lord gave a clear commandment to King Saul:
“The Lord sent me to anoint thee to be king … : now therefore hearken thou unto the voice … of the Lord. …
“… Go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have.”21
But Saul did not follow the Lord’s commandment. He practiced what I call “selective obedience.” Relying on his own wisdom, he spared the life of King Agag and brought back the best of the sheep, oxen, and other animals.
The Lord revealed this to the prophet Samuel and sent him to remove Saul from being king. When the prophet arrived, Saul said, “I have performed the commandment of the Lord.”22 But the prophet knew otherwise, saying, “What meaneth then this bleating of the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which I hear?”23
Saul excused himself by blaming others, saying the people had kept the animals in order to make sacrifices to the Lord. The prophet’s answer was clear: “Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken [to the commandments of the Lord] than the fat of rams.”24
Finally, Saul confessed, saying, “I have sinned: for I have transgressed the commandment of the Lord, and thy words: because I feared the people, and obeyed their voice.”25 Because Saul did not hearken with exactness—because he chose to be selectively obedient—he lost the opportunity and the agency to be king.
My brothers and sisters, are we hearkening with exactness to the voice of the Lord and His prophets? Or, like Saul, are we practicing selective obedience and fearing the judgments of men?
I acknowledge that all of us make mistakes. The scriptures teach us, “All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.”26 For those who find themselves captive to past unrighteous choices, stuck in a dark corner, without all the blessings available by the righteous exercise of agency, we love you. Come back! Come out of the dark corner and into the light. Even if you have to walk across a newly varnished floor, it is worth it. Trust that “through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind [including you and me] may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.”27
As the hour of the Atonement was upon Him, the Savior offered His great Intercessory Prayer and spoke of each of us, saying: “Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me.”28 “And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.”29
I bear my special witness that They live. When we exercise our agency in righteousness, we come to know Them, become more like Them, and prepare ourselves for that day when “every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess” that Jesus is our Savior.30 May we continue to follow Him and our Eternal Father, as we did in the beginning, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

While on assignment for the Church magazines in Taiwan, I was traveling with an interpreter and a driver. Though I still had hours of work to do, my interpreter needed to leave me alone with the driver, who didn’t speak any English. There was no way I could finish my work without being able to communicate with the driver. As they discussed options, my interpreter began to laugh. He explained that the driver spoke Spanish, which he knew I had learned on my mission. The driver and I had a great time together, and I finished my work without any problem.
This was no dramatic healing or moving of a mountain. But it was divine intervention that my driver was one of the relatively few people in Taiwan who spoke Spanish.

Eliza R. Snow, second General President of the Relief Society, offered a riveting answer. Because of Missouri’s infamous extermination order, issued at the onset of the grueling winter of 1838, she and other Saints were forced to flee the state that very winter. One evening, Eliza’s family spent the night in a small log cabin used by refugee Saints. Much of the chinking between the logs had been extracted and burned for firewood by those who preceded them, so there were holes between the logs large enough for a cat to crawl through. It was bitter cold, and their food was frozen solid.

That night some 80 people huddled inside that small cabin, only 20 feet square (6.1 meters square). Most sat or stood all night trying to keep warm. Outside, a group of men spent the night gathered around a roaring fire, with some singing hymns and others roasting frozen potatoes. Eliza recorded: “Not a complaint was heard—all were cheerful, and judging from appearances, strangers would have taken us to be pleasure excursionists rather than a band of gubernatorial exiles.”

Eliza’s report of that exhausting, bone-chilling evening was strikingly optimistic. She declared: “That was a very merry night. None but saints can be happy under every circumstance.”

I was on a freight ship going to the Society Islands a few years ago, and I was up in the chart room with the captain who was checking his charts, and I said, “Where are we about now?” He showed me on the map and then said, “Would you like to see where we are going?” I said, “Sure.” He walked over to some kind of a contraption, turned a couple of dials and said, “That’s where we’re going.” I looked into a piece of glass about so square and I saw a beautiful island. I had never seen it before in my life. It was the island of Tahiti, and I was looking at it from that ship hundreds of miles away.

Now he didn’t have a kodak, with a large telescopic lens taking a picture of Tahiti and showing me the proof and the print. He had an instrument that could reach out and bring into his vision islands hundreds of miles away. He turned another dial, and I saw several ships. He said, “Those ships are on their way to Australia.”

Now, I don’t doubt anymore about the angel Moroni coming into the Prophet’s home. Man hasn’t yet harnessed all of these elements. He’s working at it and meeting with great success. But if I could bring the island of Tahiti by turning a dial in the chart room of that freight ship, God can send a resurrected being through walls and rooms into the home of a young inquiring mind that is seeking truth.

I recall in one of my first professional games many years ago, in the very first inning the first three hitters hit safely, all of them on the first pitch. Out of the dugout came the pitching coach. The catcher joined him, and the three of us assembled on the mound.
The pitching coach turned to my catcher and said, “What in the world has Paul got on the ball anyway?”
The catcher said, “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it yet.”
Well, what’s that got to do with you and me? Life, you know, is a little like “the big game.” There are times when you and I need to call time-out. Have you ever had the experience of loading the bases while continuing to throw high and wide? Have you experienced “fourth down and one” on the goal line with ten seconds left? Have you watched your twenty-point lead dwindle to two? Or in life’s game do you have a challenge controlling your temper or language? Is that personal weakness you’ve noticed still not under control? Are school subjects your nemesis? Are your finances ready to pull you under? Is your family solidarity sitting on shifting sand? And most important of all, are you trying to do it alone? Or have you been smart enough to call time-out to ask the coach for help?
You know, it doesn’t always have to be a formal prayer, my young brethren. You can do it as you drive in the car, on a date, in the privacy of your room, or on the playing field.
I’m reminded of something I read just the other day. Let me share it with you. It seems that a small boy was trying to lift a heavy stone, but couldn’t budge it. His father, watching very interestedly, said, “Are you sure you’re using all of your strength?”
“Yes, I am!” the boy cried.
“No, you’re not,” said the father. “You haven’t asked me to help you.”
Well, let me just tell you that however tight the game seems at the moment, I know the coach and I know that He can help. There is a personal and loving God who knows all of the plays. He understands the game of life. He understands you and me. And he understands what you and I need now to help in our lives. Talking to him is an easy thing, really. All you have to do is call time-out. Say to yourself, “I’ve had it. I need help.” And be prepared to listen. Say to him, “I can’t take any more of this running without seeing clearly where the bases are or the direction I’m headed.”

“The Church plays an important role in my life,” David says. “Participating in seminary helped build my testimony growing up.” Arising at 6:00 A.M. daily, David attended early-morning seminary for four years. His mother, who has taught seminary for 13 years, taught his older brothers with him.

“My brothers set good examples and uplift me,” says David. The Brown brothers wrestle and tease each other, as brothers do, but their teamwork is apparent. They care for each other and desire to see one another succeed. One by one, his three older brothers have left to serve missions: Bryce to Oklahoma, USA; Gary to London, England; and Paul to Leeds, England. As each brother graduated from seminary and left to serve a mission, the class became smaller. By his final year of seminary, David was the only student in his mother’s class. However, he didn’t mind. He continued to strengthen his testimony by studying the scriptures.

At this time in your life, you have probably had the experience of trying to perform a task that seemed really difficult and beyond your ability or experience. And possibly while you were attempting this seemingly insurmountable task, there were some, maybe even friends, who tried to discourage you, embarrass you, and belittle you. Challenges are different for each of us, but the Source for help is the same. Let’s look at Nephi’s experience.
He grew up in a desert. We don’t know if he had ever seen a ship before the Lord asked him to build a ship—a seemingly insurmountable task! But Nephi had faith the Lord would help him. He said the Lord showed him “from time to time” how he should build it (1 Ne. 18:1). Nephi tells us he did not build it like men build ships. He built it “after the manner” the Lord showed him (1 Ne. 18:2). Then he tells us how.
“I did pray oft unto the Lord; wherefore the Lord showed unto me great things” (1 Ne. 18:3).
When you pray often and seek to know the Lord’s will like Nephi did, the Lord will show you the way. But you can be sure when you are trying your best to obey, you may face strong opposition from those wishing to discourage and dissuade you. Nephi’s dissenters were his own brothers. Think how hard that would be!
At times you young women may feel you are having an experience like Nephi. The Lord has not asked you to build a ship, but to build your life. You don’t yet know what your completed mortal life looks like. But your Father in Heaven knows and can guide you one step at a time. He is asking you to build your life according to His guidelines because He is the One who created you and wants you ready to return back home with Him someday. Like Nephi, you too may have detractors and dissenters seeking to change your course, or at least slow down your progress.
But you have access to the same system of communication that Nephi used. Long before e-mail and faxes, cell phones and satellite dishes, computers and the Internet, this communication with your Heavenly Father was in place. It predates every type of networking invention today. Its power extends through the cosmos.
Heavenly Father has given you the gift of the Holy Ghost to be available to help you whenever you earnestly seek Him. Like Nephi, you can know what to do to build according to the Lord’s plan for you. You will want to invite this power to help you navigate through the challenges of mortality until you are safely home.
It requires no special equipment or experience, no social status or money for the Holy Ghost to guide you. The next time you renew your baptismal covenant by taking the sacrament, listen to the promise: when you always remember your Savior and keep His commandments, you will always have His Spirit to be with you (see D&C 20:77, 79). Think of that! With a gift so magnificent, why would we ever resist such guidance?
When our young daughter was practicing the piano, I suggested she play her piece over five more times to be prepared for her lesson.
She said, “No, Mom. Five is too many.”
I said, “Then you choose how many times you need.”
She said, “No. You choose—but don’t choose five!”
Are we ever like that when the Spirit prompts us what to do and it isn’t easy or comfortable or popular? We say, “Please tell me again. I want to be obedient, but just tell me something a little easier—and more fun.” It can be dangerous trying to please ourselves.
I remember when I was about your age wishing the Spirit would tell me something different. I grew up in a small town in Canada. There were 10 people in my high school graduating class, so I graduated in the top 10 of my class! One evening my sister Shirley and I were going to the same party at a friend’s house. Mom and Dad reminded us to come right home after the party. Shirley was a year younger than I and went with her group of friends, and I went with mine. After the party Shirley went directly home, a clear indication to Mom and Dad that the party was over. I was not as wise. With my group of friends we began driving around the exciting places in town—the grain elevators and the cemetery!
As time passed I got the strong feeling that I should be home. But how could I be the first one to say, “I have to go home”? So I didn’t. I stayed with my friends, laughing and pretending I was having a good time. The feeling that I should go home grew stronger and stronger. Finally I laughingly said to my friends, “If you see a blue car ahead, it’s just my dad looking for me.” No sooner had I said those words than there indeed was a blue car and my dad standing in the middle of the road (there wasn’t a lot of traffic), waving his arms for us to stop.
Dad came around to the car door, opened it, and said quietly, “Sharon, you’d better come home with me.” I wanted to crawl under the floor mats of the car and never come out! How could my dad be so cruel and insensitive, and why didn’t my sister wait outside the house so Mom and Dad wouldn’t know when the party was over? I talked to my sister recently about this, and she said, “I did wait outside until I almost froze to death.” At the time I was sure it was everyone else’s fault that I was so humiliated in front of my friends!
Through the lens of time and reality, I see more clearly what really happened. I was prompted and warned several times—not by a legion of angels or even one small angel, but a still, small voice. Actually, it was just a feeling I had. It was so subtle, so quiet that it could be easily brushed away and I could pretend it wasn’t really there—and my friends were!
I had overstepped something that was expected of me. I had chosen to be popular with my friends instead of pleasing my parents and the Lord. But even when I deliberately chose not to obey, the Spirit was still there prompting me. You can’t do wrong and feel right. Pretending the Spirit isn’t prompting you when it is, is like putting the wrong answer down on a test when you know the right answer.
There may be times the Spirit finds it difficult to help you because maybe you are not asking for His help in your prayers, or maybe because you are not listening, or maybe the message can’t get through the loud music or the radio or video.
Kirstin said, “From personal experience, if we will listen to the Spirit, our lives will not be as complicated and full of temptation” (letter on file in the Young Women office). Laman and Lemuel refused to listen so many times that they were “past feeling” those sacred promptings (1 Ne. 17:45).
You might ask yourself, How can I tell it’s the Holy Ghost teaching me and not my emotions or circumstances? Think of a time when you know you felt the Spirit of the Lord. Maybe it was during testimony meeting at camp or you were with your family or you were reading the scriptures or praying. Maybe sometime during this meeting as you listen to the music or hear our prophet speak, you will feel that warmth in your heart. That is the Holy Ghost bearing witness to you. Remember, remember how the Spirit feels. Use that experience to help you identify the Spirit again and again.
The Holy Ghost will teach you in different ways at different times. Nephi had to learn this. Learn how the Lord communicates with you. Amanda said: “I was sitting in seminary one day, listening to the ‘Plan of Salvation Speech’ that I had heard a million times before, but all of a sudden, it just clicked. I could kind of see in my mind everything and how it fit together. I could really feel the [Spirit of the] Holy Ghost with me and knew that everything in the gospel was true” (letter).

My Grandma Jeri and I have been making fudge since I was a little girl. Because my grandparents live in Utah and we reside in Colorado, we didn’t visit them as often as we liked. When we did, my grandma always made time for us to cook up some delicious fudge.
When my grandparents got their mission call to Cambodia, I was so excited for them to be able to share the gospel, but I was also sad, because it meant that I wouldn’t see them for two years. Their farewell was a bittersweet moment, not only because they were leaving but also because I was munching on bittersweet chocolate fudge.
My grandparents had been gone about a year when my uncle, their youngest son, got engaged. My grandma got special permission to attend the wedding. Excitement ran through my body as I gave her a hug. It was so good to see her and the rest of my family.
After the wedding my grandma and I were talking. My eyes lit up with excitement, and I asked if she wanted to make fudge. The batch was small, but it tasted just as good as I remembered.
It was hard to say goodbye before we left for the airport, but I knew that soon she’d be back. In grandma-fashion, she wanted to make sure we had something to eat on the plane, so I took the rest of our fudge. Needless to say, with a hungry dad and daughter, the fudge was gone before we got off the plane.
I will never forget how lucky I was to have that special time to talk with my grandma. I can’t wait until she gets home from her mission so that we can continue our tradition.

Summer is hot in Brisbane this time of year. Always is. An old swagman I met in Townsville told me that it’s always the same in Brisbane in the summer. This is my third summer in Queensland, my second in Brisbane, and my last month in Australia. It hasn’t changed. Just like the people. I found that out myself.
The airport in Brisbane is the only thing that has changed in two years. When I first arrived, there were only three Quonset huts, five palm trees, and a broken wooden fence. Monday when I went to see my friend off, I noticed a change. They have a new terminal made of stone. There are two palm trees in large stone barrels on either side of the passenger ramp. I took a picture of Ernstein between them when he left. He was finally going home. He told me he was glad. I told him I knew what he meant and envied him. He said he hoped his mother would notice a change in him. He said two years make a lot of difference, especially to 19-year-olds. Twenty-one meant a lot.
Oh, one other difference at the airport. There is a large chain link fence around it.
Tuesday I drove to the airport again to watch the big planes take off and to meet a new companion. I got to see one huge 707 heading for the U.S. It was beautiful. I thought I was going to die of thrills when the engines shook the terminal as the plane took off. My heart went crazy as the “big deliverer” streaked east. Beautiful. Fantastic. Only 30 1/2 days left. I took a deep breath, held it, closed my eyes, and smiled, then slowly let the air out. I looked down at the mission president’s letter. Jensen. I was to meet Jensen. Jensen was 19, two years younger than Ernstein. I watched him enter between the palms, and I couldn’t believe he was so young.
“Good afternoon, Elder Clemens.”
He thrust out his hand, grabbed mine, and crushed it. I smiled and yanked my hand out while it was still mine.
“Hello,” I answered. His smile broadened with my response. I guess he was relieved to know his new companion was human. My hand knew it! He trotted toward the baggage claim. I ran after him. He reached the baggage clerk before I could. He grabbed the wiry man’s hand, crushed it, and with a large smile on display proclaimed that he was Elder Jensen and how did you do and had his luggage arrived. The thin man pushed up a smile and rubbed his hand.
“Right, mate. How are you? Your bag’ll be right in. Ta.” He turned and walked to his desk by the revolving baggage claim table. He sat down and peered over his horse racing paper, the Daily Mirror.
I grabbed Jensen and asked him if he had seen his baggage yet.
“Yes,” he exclaimed, “here it comes. The large blue Samsonite fortnighter is mine. It weighs exactly 44 pounds. The rest of my clothes are in my overcoat. That’s why it’s so heavy. You were probably wondering why.” He smiled down at me as he finished his speech. For the first time I realized he was four inches taller than I was.
I forced a smile back.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Elder Clemens, will you grab that flight bag? It’s light. Thanks.”
I picked up the Pan Am flight bag beside Jensen. The bag was empty except for one thick paperback. It was the Book of Mormon.
“I feel bad about you seeing that, Elder Clemens.” He said my name like it was a novelty that he was anxiously trying to get used too. I still haven’t gotten used to the elder bit. I envied Ernstein. Jensen went on.
“The bag was full. It holds 15 books. My family and relatives in Salt Lake gave me this bag with copies of the Book of Mormon in it at the airport. I sold them all on the plane, all but this one.” He picked it out of the bag, rolled it over in his hands, and put it back. “I must have been meant to keep it.”
I yawned, grabbed the bag, and told him to follow me to the car. I started in the lead, but after four steps I was running after him.
He talked all the way to the flat.
That night I learned that he had been the fattest baby born, vice-president of his high school, and president of his seminary classes all four years. He had memorized 60 scriptures and all of the missionary lessons. He also promised his parents that he would baptize 24 people in his two years. He asked me who we would baptize this week. He frowned when I told him no one. I then told him we were going to bed. He agreed, finally.
Wednesday morning he volunteered to cook breakfast. We went to knock on doors at 9:00 A.M. Outside it was 90 degrees with 80 percent humidity. I was used to it by then, but my tall, thin, blonde companion was shocked by the heat. He winced as we stepped out of our cool basement apartment into the hot Brisbane air. As usual the sky was blue—no clouds, no breeze. We walked four blocks to a new street. It hadn’t been tracted for nearly two years. I was the last missionary to knock on its doors. It had been my first street. It had been awful. All old people and not interested. Everyone of them poor. The street was a waste, just like this area. And they stick me back here again with only one month until I’m out. I was a greenhorn the first time, but now I had a greeny to take care of. And in Brisbane. I hate Brisbane.
Jensen talked all the way to the first home. When we were walking up to the door, I sprung my trap.
“Jensen, this is your door. Go to it,” I announced. He looked at me slightly dazed. His eyes squinted in the bright sun. The perspiration had already soaked his white shirt under his arms. He carried a Book of Mormon in his right hand.
“Do you have any pamphlets?” was all he asked as he looked back down at me. I told him yes—one “Joseph Smith’s Testimony,” three “The Word of Wisdom,” and seven “Why Mormons Build Temples.” People liked them.
“How about a ‘Which Church Is Right’ pamphlet?” he queried.
“I never bring them. Puts people off. Makes them think we are pushing religion.” I settled that question.
He shrugged his shoulders and arrogantly walked up the final steps to the door. He twisted the knob of the doorbell. Australians have cheap doorbells. They are like our bicycle bells.
The door was pulled open, and an old man with a pipe looked down at us.
“Yes, sirs, can I help you boys?” he drawled in his Australian accent. Jensen quickly answered the inquiry.
“Yes, sir, you may.” The big smile was all over his face. I stood patiently by his left side.
“My companion, Elder Clemens, and I are talking to the good folks on this street, and we wonder if we might chat with you today?” His tone was sweet and phony. I could see I was going to have to change him. That’s how Ernstein had helped me.
The old man stared back without a smile.
“What do you want to chat with me about, mate?”
“Well, sir,” Jensen flowed on, “we are representatives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and …”
The door slammed. I turned to go.
“Wait, Elder Clemens,” he stated. He turned and rang the bell again. I quickly turned to run. He grabbed my arm. “One more chance, Elder.” He didn’t even say it like a question.
“Look, Elder,” I pleaded, “don’t bother the old guy.” I tried to talk sense to him. “He doesn’t want to hear. Let him alone.” My tone now was firm.
I was interrupted when the door suddenly opened. The old man was framed in the doorway like Quasimodo. Jensen began acting again. I could tell it was all an act.
“Sir, I am sorry if you think we are bothering you, but if you will only let us explain why we are here. Have you heard of the Mormons?” His tone got softer as he spoke.
“Leave me alone, son.” His voice was deep, and I knew we had really annoyed him.
“I will, sir, but not until I tell you I care about you.”
I couldn’t believe it. The old man couldn’t either. He went quiet and looked unbelieving. He then bowed his head. I started to speak to avoid a further catastrophe.
“I am sorry, sir, and we will be going …”
Jensen cut me off.
“I mean that, sir. You see, sir, we believe you are our brother, since we are all children of God.”
He paused on “God” and waited for the old man to respond. The old man’s head was still bowed. He began to raise his head at the sudden silence, but Jensen continued.
“We feel it our duty and responsibility to tell you our message. It is a message of love and happiness. Please let us share it with you. Please, sir.” He was straining now. I put my finger through the back belt loop of his new pants. He didn’t respond.
By now the old man’s head was turning back and forth and his pipe was in his left hand. A cane in his right hand held him up. He was taking deep breaths, so I knew he was furious. I thought he was going to have a stroke right there. I pulled on the belt loop twice. Jensen turned his head around slowly. I did an instant double take as I saw his face. There were tears in his eyes. He turned his head away as I began to twitch the left side of my lips in disbelief and disgust. What a phony he is. I wanted to yank him off the porch that second, sit him down, and set him straight. The old man stopped me. He looked up. He was barely able to say what he said.
“You,” he paused and then continued in a deep voice, “you mean that?”
Jensen stared back.
“Yes, sir, I do.” He stood a little taller and went on. “I know our message will only bring you happiness. I know it’s true.” His tone was soft, but emphatic. He paused for a second, maybe two, and then fed him the same line we always use. “You see, sir, we come to Australia on our own time and at our own expense for two years. I couldn’t bear to tell a lie, especially for two years.” He sounded very convincing, but he wasn’t. He continued, “We only want to make you happy. If you want us to leave and let you alone, we will respect your wishes.”
“Yes,” whispered the old man. “Please leave me alone.” His head was bent again. Only the soft bald top of his head was showing. I knew it—he wanted us to leave. We were wasting his time. I pulled on Jensen’s arm. He turned around and grabbed the Joseph Smith pamphlet out of my pocket.
“Okay, sir, but will you read this?” He didn’t wait for a response. “It is short. It contains part of the message we have.” He waited for a reaction from the old man, but ended up breaking the silence himself. “Our phone number is on the back. If you want to hear more, please call us. We won’t keep you any longer.”
The old man took the pamphlet between his pipe and fingers, and we left.
When we were past the gate, the door to the house shut. I turned on Jensen. I let it flow.
“What were you trying to prove back there?” I snapped at him. “He wasn’t interested; he told you so. Not only that, you wasted our only Joseph Smith pamphlet on an old man. He’ll just throw it away. He can’t even read.”
Jensen’s head was now bowed and his shoulders were slouched. He apologized and followed me to the next door. I showed him how to do it on the next door, but they weren’t interested.
I got a letter that night; it was from Ernstein. It about blew my mind. He told me all about his first date. Oh, he also said his mother hadn’t noticed any change.
Jensen was quiet for the next three days. I think he was homesick. But today we got a phone call. That old man wants to talk to us.
Jensen and I went back to see him. We expected to find a frail old man who had been lonely and maybe curious. Instead, we found a very different man. He had read the pamphlet. He had read it to his wife, and they had both prayed about it. They had read more. Then they had asked for baptism.
We baptized them both.

“My brother Brady and I didn’t have a bad relationship. The problem was, we didn’t have a relationship at all. Involvement in school and with my friends meant everything. I never spent any time with him. When I heard about the experiment, I immediately thought of Brady, and after praying about it I was sure he was the one. At first it was a chore; then it became a little easier; then I realized he is fun! I just had to make the first move. Now he comes to invite me to do things with him.”—Brittany Brammer

I live on a small cattle ranch in Missouri, USA. I have the responsibility of feeding hay to the cows during the winter and early spring, and moving them on to spring pastures. One day we had our herd bulls in a pen, and we needed to move some cows through the pen to another pasture. Usually the bulls are very gentle, so I didn’t feel concerned. But this time the bulls started to get anxious with the other cows nearby. Two of our biggest bulls, Oscar and Billy, who weigh about 2,000 pounds (907 kg) each, started head butting each other and pushing each other around. It was a bullfight!
Some younger bulls were on the outside of the pen with the cows, and they came up and wanted in on the battle! I was standing nearby at a closed gate when I felt a sudden prompting to move out of the way. Just then Oscar and Billy busted through the gate and charged out into the field, right where I had been standing a few moments earlier! I knew that the Holy Ghost had prompted me to get out of the way and kept me safe from being trampled or even killed.
I know that if we try to choose the right every day, we can have the Holy Ghost as our guide. He can help keep us safe from harm’s way!

A few days into the #GiveThanks challenge issued by President Russell M. Nelson in late November, I was already feeling sensitised to the many blessings around me. I noted with thanks my beautiful family, my job, the gospel, and the sunshine we enjoy almost every day of the year in South Africa.
And then, on Tuesday, the doorbell rang.
I had just managed to get my three-year-old daughter down for her afternoon nap. Our young baby was also fussing and tired. As a working mom of three small children I too was in a haze of fatigue. On top of that, I was in pain because I had sprained my ankle while running that morning, and was feeling a little sorry for myself because I had been participating in a fitness challenge that I knew I now wouldn’t be able to finish.
I felt concerned that the noise of the bell would wake my sleeping daughter, irritated at the inconvenience of moving my sore ankle and impatient to get my baby to sleep, so that I could get back to my work deadline.
I limped to the door.
A man who was doing construction at a house down the road stood outside the gate. He said he hadn’t brought his skaftin (lunchbox). He asked if I could I please give him some lunch.
My husband mentioned that this was the third time that someone from the same construction project had come to ask for food.
I told him this was a bad time: I was trying to get my baby to sleep.
He said please, just a piece of bread, just for him.
“I’ll give you something simple, but please try to remember your lunchbox tomorrow,” I said.
I went into my kitchen and opened my fridge. It was teeming with fresh, healthy food. In that moment, I felt a simultaneous sense of gratitude and guilt: grateful for the abundance of food I enjoy each day; guilty for having felt inconvenienced by his request.
The scripture of Matthew 25:35 came to mind: “For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”
The Spirit prodded me with a question. Was I a true follower of Christ if I wasn’t willing to inconvenience myself to help someone in their time of need?
I hobbled outside to my gate, holding my baby in one arm; two peanut butter sandwiches and two apples in the other. I smiled and told him the bread was still slightly frozen.
My offering was meagre and hastily prepared, but the man looked genuinely surprised as I handed him the four items through the gate. Both sandwiches? Both apples? All for him? His eyes seemed to ask.
Then it was my turn to be surprised. I saw his eyes well up with tears. “Thank you, Mami,” he kept saying, “Thank you. Mami, Mami . . . this will go a long way.” I looked away—embarrassed at his reaction to my small donation, scared I might also tear up, and bid him goodbye.
What did it take to give someone four minutes of my day and two peanut butter sandwiches? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
What did it mean to the man at the gate? Evidently, a whole lot.
It occurred to me that, due to the downturn of construction projects and the huge spike in unemployment in South Africa following the outbreak of the Coronavirus, this man might have been earning money for the first time in several months. It occurred to me that he probably needs every cent he earns to help support several other unemployed family members.
It occurred to me that he wasn’t forgetting his lunchbox at all.
It occurred to me that he couldn’t afford to eat lunch.
In the few moments following that tiny interaction, I felt almost overcome with emotion. My action had been small and flawed. Yet despite that, it had made a huge difference to the man I helped. I felt a deep sense of gratitude that the Lord would allow the weak and simple (See D&C 1:23) such as myself to help achieve his ends.
I give thanks for the millions of lessons such as this one that Heavenly Father offers to us, for these small opportunities of connecting with other human spirits, for the grace of God in allowing us—through no qualification of our own—to breathe tiny particles of goodness into others’ existence.
I give thanks for the lesson I learned from the man at my gate.

Just a few weeks ago, in Guatemala City, Guatemala, I witnessed a modern miracle—even the result of God’s guidance given to His servants and the blessing of His people.

At a regional conference, almost twelve thousand members filled the Estadio del Ejercito, the local soccer stadium. The sun bathed with its rays the large gathering, while the Spirit of the Lord filled every heart. This was a day of thanksgiving, marking the forty-second anniversary of the arrival of the first missionaries to that land. John Forres O’Donnal spoke to the vast throng. He it was who, in 1946, stood alone as the only member of the Church in that nation. Personally importuning then President George Albert Smith, Brother O’Donnal facilitated the entry of the first missionaries. His wife, Carmen Galvez de O’Donnal, became the first convert and was baptized on November 13, 1948. This day of conference, as throughout the years of their marriage, she sat by her husband’s side.

While President O’Donnal spoke, my thoughts drifted back to the many missionaries who had come to this land and the hardships they endured, the sacrifices they made, and the lives they blessed. The experience of one describes the devotion of all. While I have, on a previous occasion, mentioned the experience of this missionary, following my recent visit to Guatemala I felt impressed to share it with you once again.

While serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randall Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake, which hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some eighteen thousand persons.

After receiving emergency medical treatment, Elder Ellsworth was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While he was confined there, a newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”

The answer, “Not yet, but I will.”

“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”

Came the reply: “Others think not, but I will. With the President of my church praying for me, and through the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will walk, and I will return to Guatemala. The Lord wanted me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”

There followed a lengthy period of therapy, punctuated by silent yet heroic courage. Little by little, the feeling began to return to the almost lifeless limbs. More therapy, more courage, more prayer.

At last Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he had been called, back to the people whom he loved. He left behind a trail of skeptics and a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the reward of determination.

In Guatemala, Randall pursued his responsibilities. He walked with the use of two canes. His walk was slow and deliberate. Then one day, as he stood before his mission president, Randall Ellsworth heard him speak the almost unbelievable words, “You have been the recipient of a miracle. Your faith has been rewarded. If you have the necessary confidence, if you have abiding faith, if you have supreme courage, place those two canes on my desk—and walk.”

Slowly, Randall placed one cane and then the other on the mission president’s desk, turned toward the door and toward his future—and walked.

Today, Randall Ellsworth is a practicing physician. He is a stalwart husband and a loving father. His mission president was none other than John Forres O’Donnal—the man who helped bring to Guatemala the word of the Lord, the leader who on Sunday, March 5, 1989, addressed the throng assembled for regional conference.

Forres O’Donnal visited my office not long ago and, in his modest manner, recounted his experience with Randall Ellsworth. He then said to me, “Together we have witnessed a miracle. I have kept one of the two canes placed upon my desk that day when I challenged Elder Ellsworth to walk without them. I would like you to have the other.” With a friendly smile, he departed the office and returned home to Guatemala.

This is the cane given to me. It serves as a silent witness of our Heavenly Father’s ability to hear our prayers and to bless our lives. It is a symbol of faith. It is a reminder of courage.

I was in a certain part of the Church not so long ago, and I heard this story: A couple of boys went to the patriarch to receive their blessings. The patriarch knew one of the boys very well, and to the one he knew he said: “I have a wonderful blessing for you.” He blessed the other boy first. Then he laid his hands on the head of the boy for whom he had said he had a wonderful blessing, and he found he could not give him a blessing at all. The words just would not come. Finally he had to say, “You will have to come back some other time.”
The Lord let that patriarch know that no patriarch has a blessing for anybody. The blessings are from the Lord, and when men want to do honor to themselves, speak by their own power, by their own inspiration, they have nothing to give. It is the Lord who has the blessings to give and the patriarch is only the means through whom the Lord works to give His blessings.

The Laurels in the Chatsworth Second Ward, Los Angeles California Chatsworth Stake, learned a great lesson about service when they cleaned an elderly lady’s house one Saturday.
Armed with buckets, mops, soap and rags, they cleaned the house until it sparkled inside and out. The sister they helped is confined to a wheelchair and greatly appreciated their service.
“I know the Spirit was with us because we felt so close to one another after we had finished,” said Julie Jensen, president of the Laurel class. “After this experience we knew that it wasn’t only the work we were helping her with, but that we made her feel so happy. That is what service projects are all about.”
The Laurels all agreed that they should do even more service projects, because they learned such a valuable lesson with this one.

Fast-forward to now. It’s the first week of October 2016. My family and I have lived in Florida for eight years, and there’s a hurricane in the Atlantic Ocean that’s destroying everything in its path. It’s moving toward us.
Every day we wake up, have family prayer, and then watch the news before we leave for school. My siblings and I all watch to see the damage the hurricane has caused and to track the path the meteorologists think the storm will take. The only good news about the storm so far is that school is canceled on Friday.
It’s 5 a.m. on Sunday morning, and my dad wakes me up and says it’s time to go. Just like in 2005, we’re up early and drive for several hours. I really don’t want to be awake this early in the morning, but this time we aren’t running away from a hurricane—we’re going toward its aftermath.
We’re driving a vehicle filled with chainsaws, gas cans, wheelbarrows, ladders, and a bunch of other tools. Hundreds of members of our stake are headed to a chapel in Daytona Beach, an area hit hard by the hurricane, to meet up with nearly 1,500 other Latter-day Saints from other stakes across the state.
The closer we get to Daytona, the lighter it gets outside, and we can actually start to see around us. Everything is a mess. Most of the businesses are closed, even the ones that are usually open 24 hours (yes, even McDonald’s!). Very few of the gas stations are open for business, and if they are, they don’t have any gas. Billboards on the side of the road are torn apart. The frames holding highway street signs have been twisted and snapped. Fallen trees and other debris litter the roadways, businesses, and people’s homes. The destruction is overwhelming at times.
At the chapel, volunteers from each ward are organized into teams of 10–15. It’s Sunday, so inside we can still go in and partake of the sacrament. Outside, we each get a uniform: a Mormon Helping Hands yellow T-shirt. Then each team is given their service assignment.
The two teams from our ward are assigned to go work in Flagler, about 15 miles north. We drive to the courthouse to meet with county officials, who have a long list of homes and businesses that need assistance.
Our team has to navigate roadblocks and downed power lines on our way to the first home, which the county officials said has a large tree that has fallen in the yard. After we arrive, I jump out of the vehicle and take my saw in hand. I can’t believe how big the tree is. But in less than 15 minutes we have completely cut it up and piled the pieces by the road for pickup. One of the most special times of the day is when we have a prayer with the home’s family before we move on to the next home.
We travel from home to home and even make a stop at the local First Methodist Church, clearing fallen trees and helping them repair the damage. We finish up just before their Sunday worship service. The reverend comes out to personally thank each one of us, then offers up a beautiful prayer asking the Lord to bless us for our service.
By lunchtime, both teams from our ward have completed all of the assignments we were given. I’m exhausted, but there are still plenty of people in the area we can serve. We take a short break for lunch, and then we begin looking for the next person to help.
We only have to drive past a few homes before we find that person. The rest of the day goes like this: we look for a home in need, we stop, we ask if they need help, we help, we pray with them, and then we look for the next person. Every time we finish helping someone, a member of our group says, “Let’s find just one more home.”
It’s hot outside, and we’re dirty, sweaty, hungry, thirsty, tired, and sore. But at some point during the day, I think we all forgot about how hard the work was because we were having so much fun serving. And at the end of the day, we all look around at each other and notice two things in common.
First, our actual “Mormon helping hands” had become filthy from the work we’d accomplished, but we’re all proud of it. It’s our badge of honor.
The second thing is that we are all smiling. It reminds me that we are all blessed to be a part of this great Church, where we are taught the importance and the benefit of Christlike service.
It was the most exhausting Sunday of my life, but the great thing about this on-the-job Sunday School lesson is that we were living our Christian convictions at the same time we were learning them.

2. Prayerfully select specialists.
The Tanners were a new couple in the stake. No one was aware that he was a builder. Their expertise was crucial when setbacks developed. The manufacturer of the trusses wouldn’t assemble and deliver until three days after youth conference. Brother Tanner knew how to apply just the right pressure to get the trusses there on time. The plans for the barn/house were submitted with the standard load of 40 pounds per square foot, but the city said the structure had to have the barn specifications of 120 pounds per square foot. Five days before construction was to commence, Brother Tanner had to scrap the blueprints and completely redo the engineering, foundation, etc. He and another builder burned midnight oil to get the plans back to the city. Since no plans were approved, he couldn’t get the trusses. What a mess. It was a miracle to finally have everything approved and ready and be able to begin the projects. The Tanners started a new business and moved out of the stake soon after youth conference. They were there when we needed them most.

Twenty years ago in general conference, I related a story first told by Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone of the Seventy that I believe bears repeating here.
In 1918 Brother George Goates was a farmer who raised sugar beets in Lehi, Utah. Winter came early that year and froze much of his beet crop in the ground. For George and his young son Francis, the harvest was slow and difficult. Meanwhile, an influenza epidemic was raging. The dreaded disease claimed the lives of George’s son Charles and three of Charles’s small children—two little girls and a boy. In the course of only six days, a grieving George Goates made three separate trips to Ogden, Utah, to bring the bodies home for burial. At the end of this terrible interlude, George and Francis hitched up their wagon and headed back to the beet field.
“[On the way] they passed wagon after wagon-load of beets being hauled to the factory and driven by neighborhood farmers. As they passed by, each driver would wave a greeting: ‘Hi ya, Uncle George,’ ‘Sure sorry, George,’ ‘Tough break, George,’ ‘You’ve got a lot of friends, George.’
“On the last wagon was … freckled-faced Jasper Rolfe. He waved a cheery greeting and called out: ‘That’s all of ’em, Uncle George.’
“[Brother Goates] turned to Francis and said: ‘I wish it was all of ours.’
“When they arrived at the farm gate, Francis jumped down off the big red beet wagon and opened the gate as [his father] drove onto the field. [George] pulled up, stopped the team, … and scanned the field. … There wasn’t a sugar beet on the whole field. Then it dawned upon him what Jasper Rolfe meant when he called out: ‘That’s all of ’em, Uncle George!’
“[George] got down off the wagon, picked up a handful of the rich, brown soil he loved so much, and then … a beet top, and he looked for a moment at these symbols of his labor, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Then [he] sat down on a pile of beet tops—this man who brought four of his loved ones home for burial in the course of only six days; made caskets, dug graves, and even helped with the burial clothing—this amazing man who never faltered, nor flinched, nor wavered throughout this agonizing ordeal—sat down on a pile of beet tops and sobbed like a little child.
“Then he arose, wiped his eyes, … looked up at the sky, and said: ‘Thanks, Father, for the elders of our ward.’”6
Yes, thanks be to God for the men of the priesthood and for the service they will yet render in lifting individuals and families and in establishing Zion.

So that he could learn all the words by heart, Spencer W. Kimball practiced the hymns even while he milked cows. When a Church leader suggested that everyone read the scriptures, Spencer realized that he had never read the Bible. That very night he set a goal to read it from cover to cover. He lighted a little coal-oil lamp and began to read. He read a little every night. One year later, he had completed his goal.