Gospel Story Finder

You’ll see it on every license plate in the province. You’ll see it on coats of arms and marble statues. It’s the motto of the Province of Quebec: Je me souviens. It means “I remember.”
And this is a place where there is much to remember. The Province of Quebec is where France and Britain once battled for control of North America. It is the home of vast wildernesses and nomadic Native American tribes, where wise use of plentiful resources is still a challenge. It is the home of some of the oldest settlements on the North American continent, of walled fortresses and cobblestone streets now surrounded by business districts and skyscrapers.
And it is a place where the young Latter-day Saints who live here are acutely aware of many things they must remember, not just to maintain their sense of history or identity, but to live more fully the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Léa Dussault, for example, has a checklist she follows. “I work on it every day,” says the 15-year-old from St. Polycarpe, a tiny town on the Quebec-Ontario border near Hawkesbury. “I read the scriptures for 30 minutes, do at least half an hour of seminary, work with Personal Progress, and read my patriarchal blessing. I pray a lot, too. It gives me more confidence. At bedtime, I make sure all my spiritual goals for the day have been met. Otherwise, I won’t feel good when I go to sleep.”
Léa has a personal motto: “I choose to be one with Christ today.” She’s doing her best to live up to that statement.
“You must remember the blessings you can have by being faithful,” says Marc-André Côté, 15, of Chicoutimi. “Always keep that goal in mind. When Joseph Smith was discouraged once, the Lord reminded him to remember what he had been promised if he would remain faithful. [See D&C 6:13.] By thinking of the celestial kingdom and exaltation, you can find strength to overcome the struggles in your life.”
Marc should know. For four years he was away from the Church, but about two years ago he kept “asking myself what I was doing with my life. I was searching for something, and I remembered what I had felt in the Church. I felt the Spirit saying to me, ‘Go!’ So I decided to try it just one time. I had imagined it would be difficult to come back, but it was easy. It was even better than I remembered. I read a lot and studied a lot and really gained a testimony that this is the true church, organized the way the Savior wants it to be.”
Julia Awashish, a 17-year-old Native American from Quebec City, agrees with Marc. “We need to always remember the covenants we made at baptism,” she says. “The promises we have made to our Heavenly Father are the things that make us strong as members of the Church. It’s been six years since I joined the Church. I’m glad my mother and I joined, because it helps me so much when I have a problem to deal with, and it helps me remember to be happy, because the gospel is a message of joy.”
Julia says that when she and her mother returned to visit relatives in their village of Obedjiwan, which is far to the north of Quebec, at first “there was a lot of gossip about us being Latter-day Saints. But now everyone has seen by our example that we are friendly, normal people, so they accept us just fine.”
Vetséra Lapierre, 14, also from Quebec City, says she will always remember her first trip to the Toronto Ontario Temple to do baptisms for the dead. “I was so happy just to be with so many young members of the Church; the joy of it filled my eyes with tears of gratitude,” she explains. “It was something I had dreamed of for years, and now my dream was coming true. When we walked in the doors of the house of the Lord, I immediately felt a perfect peace, a spiritual strength that grew and grew as we did the baptisms. That feeling has stayed with me ever since. Now when I face a temptation, I remember how I felt in the temple. I always want to feel that peace, and I want to return to the temple again and again.”
Alexandra Gilbert felt a similar reassurance when she met President Gordon B. Hinckley at the dedication of the temple. The 14-year-old from the city of Alma says: “He wasn’t the President of the Church at the time, but now he is. He was going up the steps to go into the temple, and he paused and shook my hand and we chatted for just a moment. He’s very likable. I didn’t understand a lot, because he spoke only English to me. But I had a wonderful feeling about him. I’ll always remember meeting him, and I’ll remember that we have a living prophet.”
Robert-Emmanuel Duchesne, 13, lives in the little town of St. Monique, about 45 minutes from Alma on Lac St.-Jean. “Even though we go to a small branch, we do the same things others do in the Church. We have youth activities. We go to our meetings every Sunday. Sometimes when there’s something they want to do together, my friends will say something, but they know my Sundays are taken for church.” He made a promise to keep the Sabbath holy, and he remembers the promise.
He also remembers his commitment to magnify his calling. “There are only two Aaronic Priesthood holders in the Alma Branch, and that’s not a lot. But we do our best to serve, and I remind myself all the time that there are many young children in our branch who will grow up in the Church and who will make the branch grow. The younger kids need us to prepare the way, to work hard and be good examples.”
There’s a similar commitment to the Aaronic Priesthood in Rimouski, a town in the eastern part of the province nearing the mouth of the St. Lawrence River. “We’ve started gathering fast offerings door to door at all the members’ homes,” explains Hugo Lêvesque, 16. “We have to do some of them by car, because about 50 percent of the branch members live in other small towns in the area. But our branch president said that during the time of Joseph Smith the Aaronic Priesthood went door-to-door gathering fast offerings, so why shouldn’t we? It helps us remember our responsibilities.”
“I read scriptures with my family every morning,” says Olivia Montminy, 17, who lives in Scott and attends church in Lévis. “Then during the day I think of things I read in the scriptures or of the hymns we sang as a family and have them in my mind all day.”
She’s not alone. The youth of Montreal’s Lemoyne Ward study scriptures regularly, and each of them has a favorite passage. For Ariane Caron, 15, it’s where Nephi talks about writing what is pleasing to God, not to the world (see 1 Ne. 6:5). “I read that with my mother when I was young, and I felt such a great spirit that I had to stop and read it again. That really showed me that the scriptures are something that comes from God. That was the beginning of my personal testimony.”
For Olivier Carter, 15, it’s the story of the stripling warriors in Alma 53. “They remembered what their mothers taught them,” he says, “and they were totally loyal in keeping the commandments.” [Alma 53]
And for Esther Caron, 17, it’s Philippians 4:13 [Philip. 4:13]: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” It’s a scripture she recalls frequently, repeating it over and over when she needs a reminder to have faith.
The LDS youth of Quebec know there are many things they should remember each day, such as the need to set a good example, to live the Word of Wisdom, to stay morally clean, to be kind to family members, and to share the gospel. But in all they say and in all they do, they strive to keep a covenant they renew through the sacrament each week—to always remember the Savior.
One of the best ways to make friends is to invite them over, right? That’s what the Montreal Ward of the Montreal Quebec Mount Royal Stake did. Their new chapel created so much interest in the surrounding neighborhood of La Salle that ward leaders decided to open it up for tours.
And when they did, the youth of this ward played a major role. The Latter-day Saint teens served refreshments, directed parking, and greeted guests at the door.
“It was a good experience because it gave other people in the community an opportunity to know more about us—what we believe and what we do,” explains Melissa Poirier, 15. More than 300 non-Latter-day Saints toured the building.
When asked why his family had come to see the building, one man responded: “We watched you last year having a beautiful groundbreaking service. We saw the beautiful building going up. And now we want to see it from the inside. We are so excited!”
One woman said, “I have my own religion, but I was interested in seeing the building.” She spent hours asking questions, and when she left she said, “I didn’t know you believed in Christ. I am so impressed.”
The new building did bring a minor protest. “There were two men standing outside in the rain for six hours, handing out anti-LDS literature,” Melissa’s twin brother, Shawn, says. “We felt sorry for them, so we fixed two plates of cookies and took them out. They seemed grateful for the food.”
In addition to holding the open house, the ward also sponsored a dinner for the mayor of La Salle, the mayor’s council, the contractor, the designers, the architects, and other people involved in the construction.
“The dinner was quite fast paced, so we were on our toes most of the time,” Shawn says. “But we received many compliments. I think that was a good sign of community interest and acceptance.”

Would you like a blessing? I hope that when I am no longer able, someone will say to my wife and children, “Would you like a blessing?” I have had several beautiful blessings since I became ill. But blessings can comfort other family members, too. When the young man in our ward was killed in the accident, I visited his mother and gave her a blessing. Then I looked at his father. “I believe that no one has given you a blessing,” I said to him. “Would you like one?” “Yes,” he replied. No one had asked him before if he wanted a blessing.

OK, we’re only down one point with seven seconds left. Tanya, I want you to pass to Joyce and set a screen for Cathlyn on the left wing. Cathlyn, all you have to do is lose your man, catch the pass from Joyce, and bury the shot.
You did it, Cathlyn! We won!
Great game, Champ. That last play was awesome!
I just did what the coach told me, Dad.
Did he come out on the floor and make you do it?
Of course not!
Are you glad you chose to follow his plan anyway?
I guess so. Hey, this isn’t just about basketball, is it?
It isn’t?
Do they teach this stuff in dad school, or are you just a natural?

Years ago I visited Nauvoo, Illinois, with my family. There the early Saints had come seeking refuge. Many had lost their homes and their farms, and some had lost their loved ones to the growing persecution. In Nauvoo they gathered and built a new and beautiful city. But the persecution was relentless, and by 1846 they were once again forced to leave their homes—this time in the middle of winter. They lined up their wagons on Parley Street, awaiting their turn to cross the frozen waters of the Mississippi River into an unknown future.
As we stood on Parley Street reflecting upon their desperate conditions, my eyes were drawn to a series of wooden signs nailed to fence posts upon which were etched quotes from the diaries of these suffering Saints. As we read each quote, to our amazement what we found in their words was not desperation and discouragement but confidence and commitment and even joy. They were filled with hope, the hope that is reflected by this quote from the diary of Sarah DeArmon Rich, February 1846: “To start out on such a journey in the winter … would seem like walking into the jaws of death but we had faith … [and] we felt to rejoice that the day of our deliverance had come.”
These early Saints were indeed homeless, but they were not hopeless. Their hearts were broken, but their spirits were strong. They had learned a profound and important lesson. They had learned that hope, with its attendant blessings of peace and joy, does not depend upon circumstance. They had discovered that the true source of hope is faith—faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and in His infinite Atonement, the one sure foundation upon which to build our lives.

When I was a young man, before I was even ordained a deacon, I went to one of our ward meetings, and two missionaries reported their missions in the Southern States. When I left that meeting, I felt like I could have walked to any mission field in the world, if I just had a call.

And I went home, went into my bedroom, and got down on my knees, and asked the Lord to help me to live worthy so that when I was old enough I could go on a mission. And when the train finally left the station in Salt Lake and I was headed for the little land of Holland, the last thing I said to my loved ones was, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

I have a very good friend who sends me a new tie to wear during the session I speak at each general conference. He has excellent taste, don’t you think?
My young friend has some difficult challenges. They limit him in some ways, but in other ways he is extraordinary. For example, his boldness as a missionary rivals the sons of Mosiah. The simplicity of his beliefs makes his convictions incredibly firm and steady. I believe that in Scott’s mind it’s unimaginable that everyone isn’t a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that everyone hasn’t read the Book of Mormon and doesn’t have a testimony of its truthfulness.
Let me tell you of an event in Scott’s life when he was making his first airplane flight alone to visit his brother. A neighbor who was seated nearby overheard Scott’s conversation with the person next to him:
“Hello, my name is Scott. What is yours?”
His seatmate shared his name.
“What do you do?”
“I am an engineer.”
“That’s nice. Where do you live?”
“In Las Vegas.”
“We have a temple there. Do you know where the Mormon temple is?”
“Yes. It is a beautiful building.”
“Are you a Mormon?”
“No.”
“Well, you should be. It is a great religion. Have you read the Book of Mormon?”
“No.”
“Well, you should. It’s a great book.”
I agree wholeheartedly with Scott—the Book of Mormon is a great book. The words of the Prophet Joseph Smith cited on the introduction page of the Book of Mormon have always resonated with me: “I told the brethren that the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”
This year in our Sunday School classes, we are studying the Book of Mormon. As we prepare and participate, may we be motivated to follow Scott’s bold example to share our love of this special scripture with others not of our faith.
A dominant theme of the Book of Mormon is expressed in the final verse of the first chapter of 1 Nephi. Nephi writes, “But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance” (1 Nephi 1:20).
I wish to speak about how the Book of Mormon, which is a tender mercy of the Lord preserved for these latter days, delivers us by teaching us in a pure and “most correct” way the doctrine of Christ.
Many of the stories of the Book of Mormon are stories of deliverance. Lehi’s departure into the wilderness with his family was about deliverance from the destruction of Jerusalem. The story of the Jaredites is a story of deliverance, as is the story of the Mulekites. Alma the Younger was delivered from sin. Helaman’s stripling warriors were delivered in battle. Nephi and Lehi were delivered from prison. The theme of deliverance is evident throughout the entire Book of Mormon.
There are two stories in the Book of Mormon which are very similar and teach an important lesson. The first is from the book of Mosiah, starting with the 19th chapter. Here we learn of King Limhi living in the land of Nephi. The Lamanites had waged war against the people of Limhi. The result of the war was that the Lamanites would allow King Limhi to rule over his own people, but they would be in bondage to them. It was a very uneasy peace. (See Mosiah 19–20.)
When Limhi’s people had their fill of Lamanite abuses, they convinced their king to go against the Lamanites in battle. Three times Limhi’s people were defeated. Heavy burdens were laid upon them. Finally they humbled themselves and cried mightily unto the Lord that He would deliver them. (See Mosiah 21:1–14.) Verse 15 of chapter 21 tells us of the Lord’s response: “And now the Lord was slow to hear their cry because of their iniquities; nevertheless the Lord did hear their cries, and began to soften the hearts of the Lamanites that they began to ease their burdens; yet the Lord did not see fit to deliver them out of bondage.”
Soon after, Ammon and a small band of men from Zarahemla arrived, and with Gideon—one of the leaders of Limhi’s people—they worked out a plan which was successful, and they escaped from the Lamanite abuses. The Lord was slow to hear their cries. Why? Because of their iniquities.
The second story is similar in many respects but also different. The account is recorded in Mosiah 24.
Alma and his people had settled in the land of Helam, when an army of the Lamanites came into the borders of the land. They met and worked out a peaceful solution. (See Mosiah 23:25–29.) Soon the leaders of the Lamanites began to impose their will on the people of Alma and placed heavy burdens on them to bear (see Mosiah 24:8). In verse 13 we read, “And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.”
The people of Alma were delivered from the hands of the Lamanites and safely made their way back to be united with the people of Zarahemla.
What was the difference between the people of Alma and the people of King Limhi? Obviously, there were several differences: the people of Alma were peaceful and more righteous; they had already been baptized and entered into a covenant with the Lord; they humbled themselves before the Lord even before their tribulations started. All these differences made it appropriate and fair that the Lord would deliver them quickly in a miraculous way from the hand which kept them in bondage. These scriptures teach us of the Lord’s power of deliverance.
Prophecies foretelling the life and mission of Jesus Christ promise us the deliverance that He will provide. His Atonement and Resurrection provide all of us an escape from physical death and, if we repent, an escape from spiritual death, bringing with it the blessings of eternal life. The promises of the Atonement and Resurrection, the promises of deliverance from physical and spiritual death, were declared by God to Moses when He said, “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39).
In contrast to the beautifully designed beliefs for us in the holy scriptures, we find the opposing forces of secularism engaged in challenging the long-standing beliefs in the holy writings—writings which have given us guidance through these many centuries in defining the eternal values and standards for our conduct through life. They declare that the teachings in the Bible are false and the teachings of the Master out of date. Their voices cry that each person must have the freedom to set his or her own standards; they attempt to alter the rights of the believers, contrary to that which is taught in the scriptures and in the words of the prophets.
What a blessing it is to have the account of the mission of our Lord and Savior declared in the Book of Mormon to add a second witness to the doctrine declared in the Bible. Why is it important for the world to have both the Bible and the Book of Mormon? I believe the answer is found in the 13th chapter of 1 Nephi. Nephi records: “And the angel spake unto me, saying: These last records, which thou hast seen among the Gentiles [the Book of Mormon], shall establish the truth of the first [the Bible], which are of the twelve apostles of the Lamb, and shall make known the plain and precious things which have been taken away from them; and shall make known to all kindreds, tongues, and people, that the Lamb of God is the Son of the Eternal Father, and the Savior of the world; and that all men must come unto him, or they cannot be saved” (verse 40).
Neither the Bible nor the Book of Mormon in and of itself is sufficient. Both are necessary for us to teach and learn about the full and complete doctrine of Christ. The need for the other does not diminish either one of them. Both the Bible and the Book of Mormon are necessary for our salvation and exaltation. As President Ezra Taft Benson so powerfully taught, “When used together, the Bible and the Book of Mormon confound false doctrines” (“A New Witness for Christ,” Ensign, Nov. 1984, 8).
I want to close by noting two stories—one from the Old Testament, the other from the Book of Mormon—to show how the books work harmoniously together.
The story of Abraham begins with his deliverance from the idol-worshipping Chaldeans (see Genesis 11:27–31; Abraham 2:1–4). He and his wife Sarah were later delivered from their sorrow and promised that through their posterity all the nations of the earth would be blessed (see Genesis 18:18).
The Old Testament contains the account of Abraham taking Lot, his nephew, with him out of Egypt. Given a choice of land, Lot chose the plain of Jordan, and he pitched his tent facing Sodom, a city of great wickedness. (See Genesis 13:1–12.) Most of the problems that Lot later encountered in his life, and there were several, can be traced back to his early decision to position the door of his tent to look upon Sodom.
Abraham, the father of the faithful, experienced life differently. Certainly there were many challenges, but it was to be a blessed life. We do not know which way Abraham’s tent door faced, but there’s a strong hint in the last verse of the 13th chapter of Genesis. It reports, “Then Abram [or Abraham] removed his tent, and came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built there an altar unto the Lord” (Genesis 13:18).
While I do not know, I personally believe the door of Abraham’s tent faced the altar he built unto the Lord. How do I draw this conclusion? It is because I know the Book of Mormon story about King Benjamin’s instructions to his people when they gathered to hear his final address. King Benjamin instructed them to position the doors of their tents facing the temple (see Mosiah 2:1–6).
We can be delivered from the ways of evil and wickedness by turning to the teachings of the holy scriptures. The Savior is the Great Deliverer, for He delivers us from death and from sin (see Romans 11:26; 2 Nephi 9:12).
I declare that Jesus is the Christ and that we can draw close to Him by reading the Book of Mormon. The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ. The first testaments of our Savior are the Old and New Testaments—or the Bible.
Again, let’s remember my friend Scott’s description of the Book of Mormon: “It’s a great book.” I testify to you that much of the Book of Mormon’s greatness stems from its harmony with the Holy Bible, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

After a grueling confinement throughout the winter in Liberty Jail, the Prophet Joseph and his fellow Latter-day Saint prisoners were granted a change of venue for trial. Apparently to spare the state from the publicity of a trial, the guards allowed their prisoners to escape while en route to the new venue. They crossed the Mississippi River into Illinois on April 22, 1839, where they joined the Saints from Missouri, who had received a sympathetic reception from the citizens of Quincy, Illinois. That same day the Prophet hired James Mulholland to again keep a journal for him. From April to October 1839, Brother Mulholland recorded the Prophet’s activities in 15 pages of a handmade pamphlet titled “Minute Book.”

During my high school years my relationship with my parents was not always smooth sailing. In particular, I felt that I should be given more independence. Why should I have to tell my parents everything I was doing and everywhere I was going? And why did I have a set time to be home at night and then have to check in when I got home? I had a difficult time understanding them when they said I’d have more freedom if I was more obedient to the rules. With all those rules, I wouldn’t be free; I’d be a slave.
At the beginning of my senior year in high school, I figured out a plan. I would prove that obedience would not bring more freedom. I would become the ideal child. If Dad said, “Be home by 10:30,” I would come in by 10:15. If Mom asked, “Will you please take out the garbage?” I would already have done it. I would do everything they asked of me and more. Then, after graduation, I would confront them with the facts: “I have been totally obedient this year. Do I have more freedom? Have I become independent because I have demonstrated my responsibility? No! But now I declare my independence! Good-bye.” I smiled as I thought about it. The plan was a good one.
Although my motives were far from pure, my actions brought a positive change in our home. We rarely had any disagreements, and my relationship with my parents improved. Occasionally I would remind myself of why I was doing this. I would think, “Sure, things are going great. Why shouldn’t they be? You are their slave.” For the most part, however, I just enjoyed the year and the harmony within our home.
On a Wednesday evening around the first of April, my friend stopped to say that he couldn’t give me a ride to school in the morning.
Dreading the thought of having to take the bus I asked, “Why can’t you give me a ride?”
“My brother and his family are moving to a town just outside of Las Vegas, and I am going to drive a truck filled with their stuff to their new home.” Then he added, “When I finish helping them move in, my brother said he will let me take his car and drive into Las Vegas.”
Then an idea popped into his mind. “Come with me. We’ll only be gone for a couple of days,” he said.
“A couple of school days,” I reminded him. “There’s no way that my parents will let me go to Las Vegas.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask. Let me know in the morning. It will be a blast if you can go.”
When I got home, everyone had gone to bed. I turned off the clock light over the stove. My mom always left it on so that the last person home would turn it off, and she could simply look at the clock in the kitchen and know that everyone was safely home. Turning off the light was in addition to checking in. It always amazed me that I could report in, have a brief conversation with my parents, and they would still have to get up in the night to see if I was home. I remember them often saying in the morning, “We didn’t hear you come in last night.”
“I talked to you when I got home!”
“Did you? I don’t remember.”
On this particular night, I stood at the door of their bedroom and went through the ritual. “I’m home,” I said softly.
A sleepy okay came from Mom.
But this night I added, “Can I go to Las Vegas in the morning with Boyd?”
My mom again, “Okay.”
And that was it. I had permission! As I began to step quietly from the room, my Dad’s voice came out of the dark, “Rich?”
“Yeah,” I replied, knowing it was over.
“There’s a $20 bill on my dresser. Take it.”
“Okay.”
I picked up the $20 and made my way down the stairs to my bedroom in the basement. What’s going on? I wondered. And then I began to get angry. They were asleep and didn’t hear me. They weren’t going to let me go to Las Vegas. Tomorrow morning was a good time to throw my lack of freedom in their faces.
In the morning I wasn’t as angry, but I was apprehensive about the forthcoming confrontation. I came upstairs and walked quietly into the kitchen. My mom was cooking breakfast.
“What time are you leaving today?” she asked.
She didn’t seem upset. Maybe she was going to let Dad lower the boom. “I’ve got to call Boyd to find out for sure, but I think we’ll be leaving at about 10:00.”
“How long are you going to be gone?”
“Just two days.”
“Two days?” my dad said, coming out of the bedroom.
Here we go, I thought.
“Then you might need more money,” he said as he handed me another $20.
I was stunned.
My dad must have noticed my surprise. “You do know why we’re letting you go, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
He continued, “You’ve shown to us this past year that you are responsible and that you can be trusted. Here’s some of the freedom you wanted. We’re letting you go because we trust you, and we know you won’t do anything foolish you or we would be ashamed of.”
I went to Las Vegas with Boyd. We had fun, and we didn’t do anything that would bring shame to us, our parents, or our Father in Heaven. I was never able to confront my parents with my lack of freedom.

I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. My temper had a very short fuse. The way I overcame my “short fuse” was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting mad at people nearly as often.
Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana

A few years ago I was at beautiful Jackson Lake in the Grand Teton National Park of Wyoming. Not far from the shore of that exquisite body of deep blue water at the foot of the Teton peaks, I bumped unexpectedly into a very close friend from my hometown. He was sitting in the shade of some tall pine trees, painting a scene of the beautiful Teton Mountains. I had known him intimately for many years but had no idea that he knew the first thing about a brush and landscape.

“For heaven’s sake, Jack, what are you doing up here in the mountains with a paint brush in your hand? How long have you been doing this?” I asked.

“I’ve been puttering around for just a few months, and it’s the most fun I’ve ever had. I’m almost done with this one. What do you think of it?” He showed me his painting. I was absolutely amazed that he could paint.

“But how did you learn to do this? A guy can’t just pick up a brush and start painting.”

“I guess my boy is the one who started me,” he said. “He took an art class in high school and went crazy over it. He showed me a few of the fundamentals. It’s much easier than you would think. And it’s fun!”

Whenever my car is sputtering and needs the careful diagnosis of a good mechanic, I take it to a particular friend of mine. This fellow’s brothers all prepared for life by studying law, medicine, or engineering. But my friend just seemed to love to tinker with cars. He has his own automotive repair shop (rather small), and it is a joy to take a car to him for repairs. He is the picture of contentment because he is doing what he really enjoys doing. He bubbles with enthusiasm as he repairs an ailing part. He perpetually flashes a warm and genuine smile, and it is a complete joy to see how much he enjoys mending an automotive ailment. He’s a very good mechanic, and each time I visit him I get the strong impression that he is much happier in life than his brothers who are in supposedly more lofty professions.

Another friend of mine is a prominent corporation lawyer. For years he’s had trouble sleeping at night. An ardent fisherman, he decided one restless night that he would try making the flies that fishermen use. The next day he bought some inexpensive equipment. He went completely overboard on flytying. He enjoyed it even more than fishing. In the space of a few years he must have tied half a million of those things, and he was proud of every single one of them. He became an expert.

A few summers ago our family visited Catalina Island just off the coast near Los Angeles. While there we visited the excellent aviary, which has the most interesting collection of birds I have ever seen. But even though the birds were fascinating, the most important part of the visit for me was the acquaintance I made with a man whom I shall never forget. He told me something that still lingers vividly in my memory, even though this must have been ten years ago.

He worked at the aviary. I first noticed him as he was feeding the birds in the cages. He seemed to know each bird individually, calling them by name and chatting with them as though they were children gathered around him. It was easily apparent that he loved every bird in the place, and the birds seemed to feel the same way about him. After he had finished his feeding chores, I felt compelled to talk to him for a moment.

“It was interesting to watch you feed the birds,” I said. “It’s easy to see that you enjoy your work here.”

“Yes sir, I enjoy it here more than I can tell you. In fact, I can’t think of a single person I would trade places with—none of the movie stars, none of the bankers or lawyers, none of the merchants, none of the presidents, premiers, or kings. I like it right here, and I like what I’m doing.” We chatted a few minutes longer. Then he said, “You know, mister, there is one important thing I’ve discovered in life—at least as far as I personally am concerned. It’s this: If you like what you do, and if you’re doing something that is really worthwhile, and if you do the best job you can do, then, brother, you’ve got it made!”

I have a friend who makes a living selling women’s shoes. But this fellow is much more than a shoe salesman. You should see his garden. What a gift! His yard is the envy of everyone within miles of his place. Talk about a green thumb! His petunias and marigolds and other plants just seem to realize that they are destined to be the best in the land, and I don’t think a clump of crab grass would dare invade his yard. But the nicest thing about this is to see the complete enjoyment he gets out of his great talent of gardening.

I have a friend named Doug whom I must tell you about. He went through school with an unexciting C+ average, and his current earning power is about in the same class—comfortable but not lavish. He has his share of aches and pains, and life has dealt him a full crop of the tougher problems that seem to accompany just about every family. Yet Doug is a man with a gift that is worth more than money can buy. He is a tremendously happy man, and there is no doubt that his happiness comes primarily from his one polished and perfected talent. Perhaps it might be called a knack rather than a gift or a talent. At any rate, it works.

Doug has the knack of absorbing real enjoyment out of the simple and ordinary happenings of each day. I suppose it could be called the knack of enjoyment—and he utilizes it in a fantastic fashion. A normal dinner at night with his wife and kids is a memorable thing for this fellow because he knows how to reap an unusual amount of enjoyment from the carefully set table, the taste of the food, and the conversation of each person, no matter how trivial. It’s as though he had been looking forward to this particular occasion for weeks. A day on the job to Doug seems a challenge, with new decisions and opportunities, while others doing the same thing may feel they’re in a repetitive rut. He can go to church and find a half-dozen worthwhile pearls in a sermon and make plans for adopting them in his own habits, while others sitting in the same service may grumble to themselves about how boring and empty the spoken word has been. When Doug’s golf game is sour, with a score that soars to 105, and his pant cuffs are filled with sand from the traps and prickly weeds from the rough, this guy can actually smile and talk about how great it was out there in the beautiful out-of-doors.

You see, Doug discovered many years ago that most people expected and anticipated a great wad of happiness to come to them when certain events or accomplishments just over the horizon of the future would materialize. Such events could be graduation, or marriage, or the birth of children, or the betterment of a job, or the acquiring of a home or a car. Anyway, Doug has always felt that life is now, and it should be enjoyed now. He taught himself how to enjoy the simple and ordinary things of each day that so often are taken very much for granted.

I once asked Doug to tell me the secret of this unusual gift that he possesses. He told me there were three things that he accentuates every day of his life. First, he tries to slow down in his path through life. He stops to listen to the laughter of children playing in the neighborhood. He takes time to notice flowers, gardens, and homes as he walks along a street. He enjoys each day and wants it to last. Secondly, he reminds himself many times each day that he is going to find happiness on that day! He always seems to be alert in the search. And third, he emphasizes how necessary it is to develop the ability to genuinely appreciate the many things in life for which we should be grateful. Appreciation!

Doug taught me that anybody can acquire his gift if they will strive diligently for it. It doesn’t take great intellectual ability, great physical strength, great heritage, great wealth, or great accomplishment. It’s open to anyone who is looking for a talent. Try it. It works.

A true story from the USA.
“Time for school!” Mom called.
Bella frowned at herself in the mirror. Her jeans felt tight, and her shirt looked awkward on her shoulders. She remembered what David said on the bus last week—“You’re so fat!” She knew she shouldn’t let his words bother her, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Mom knocked on the door. “We’re going to be late!”
Bella grabbed her backpack. “I’m coming.”
“You look cute today!” Mom said.
“Thanks,” Bella mumbled.
As she walked to class later, she kept her head down. She wished she could be invisible.
“Hey, Bella!” Her classmate Ashley handed her a flyer. “Do you want to be in the school play? It’ll be really fun!”
Bella read the flyer. The auditions were tomorrow. Bella liked to sing and dance with her younger sister. Sometimes they put on shows for the family. Maybe it would be fun!
But then she remembered what happened on the bus. If Bella tried out for the play, so many eyes would be on her. She stuffed the paper in her backpack and tried not to think about it.
When Bella got home from school, Mom was making dinner. “How was school?” she asked.
“It was OK.” Bella put her backpack down and zipped it open. The flyer was still there.
“Oh, the school play!” Mom said, looking over her shoulder. “Are you going to audition?”
“Probably not,” Bella said.
“Why?”
Bella thought about it. “I just don’t like the way I look, I guess. I don’t want people staring at me on stage.”
Mom gave her a hug. “I know it can be hard to feel comfortable with your body,” she said. “But God created your body to be more than what people look at. Think of all the things it can do!”
Maybe I should audition for the play, Bella thought. It wouldn’t hurt to at least try.
The next day, she walked into the theater. There were lots of kids inside, laughing and talking. Maybe this was a bad idea.
When they called her name, Bella walked slowly onto the stage. Her heart was beating so fast. She said a quick prayer in her head. Heavenly Father, please help me not be so nervous.
Bella felt a little calmer. She sang one of her favorite songs and read lines from a script. After everyone was done, the theater teacher read a list of those who got a part.
Bella heard her name. She couldn’t believe it. She would be in the play!
Over the next few weeks, Bella practiced dancing, singing, and saying her lines. It was hard, but she got better every day. Her body was made for the stage! Her feet loved to dance to the music. Her arms loved to move props across the stage. Her brain loved learning the words to the songs. And her heart loved all the new friends she made.
Bella was so excited when the day of the play finally came. It was showtime!
She put on her costume and looked in the mirror. She loved how it sparkled in the light. During the show she danced, sang, and said her lines on stage. When it ended, she found her family in the crowd.
Mom gave her a hug. “You were so confident up there!”
Bella smiled. “God helped me!”
Illustrations by Shawna J. C. Tenney

What about our children? Do they hear exclamations of joy and hope in the gospel? After a Primary lesson about Joseph Smith’s First Vision, the class was asked to draw pictures to take home and share with their families. The children had been taught about the darkness Joseph experienced before the appearance of the Father and the Son. A six-year-old girl picked up a black crayon and started to draw. She colored the bottom and up one side of the page as dark as she could. When her teacher asked her about the picture, she said she was drawing Joseph Smith in the darkness.

Her teacher inquired: “Do you know that when Heavenly Father and Jesus appeared, all the darkness had to leave? Heavenly Father and Jesus are always more powerful than Satan, and They will protect you.” The child turned back to her paper. In the top corner, she drew an outline of two figures; and then, trading her black crayon for a bright yellow one, she filled the rest of the page with light.

I had a very special experience a few years ago on an assignment to Oregon. After a stake conference I was asked to bless a little child. A couple was ushered into a room, and I learned that day what the love of God really was. They had adopted six or seven abandoned, physically handicapped little children who would need their love and care the rest of their lives. I felt humble in their presence, and the love of God filled that room that day. They were no more strangers to God.

One extremely hot afternoon I was crossing the green agricultural lands of the Pampas in Argentina. The sun was scorching the highway to the point that the heat waves became visible. Nevertheless, I was confident and comfortable because I had just purchased a brand-new car, fresh from the factory, with a big motor and plenty of power to conquer the elements and allow me to travel briskly in air-conditioned comfort.
Suddenly, I noticed that the temperature in my new car had begun to climb and the big motor began to show signs of strain. When the temperature gauge got to the danger point, I pulled the car over to the side of the road in the hope that with my very limited knowledge of mechanics I could discover what was wrong with the car. I must admit I was rather disgusted to think that something could stop my big new car. It wasn’t long after I had lifted the hood that I discovered, to my amazement, that a myriad of colorful little butterflies had collected on the radiator, choked off the cooling process, and stopped the car. I was then struck with the realization of how a few hundred little butterflies, in their collective strength, could master the immense horsepower of the motor. No, it wasn’t an eagle, a hawk, or anything else more or less justifiable, but just a couple hundred little butterflies.
This incident made me think about what often happens in our own lives. I thought about the tremendous potential that exists in each one of us, potential that can direct us to eternal life.
The Prophet Joseph Smith said:
“Here, then, is eternal life—to know the only wise and true God; and you have got to learn how to be Gods yourselves, and to be kings and priests to God, the same as all Gods have done before you, namely, by going from one small degree to another, and from a small capacity to a great one; from grace to grace, from exaltation to exaltation, until you attain to the resurrection of the dead, and are able to dwell in everlasting burnings, and to sit in glory, as do those who sit enthroned in everlasting power. …
“… [You] shall be heirs of God and joint heirs with Jesus Christ. What is it? To inherit the same power, the same glory and the same exaltation, until you arrive at the station of a God, and ascend the throne of eternal power, the same as those who have gone before.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, sel. Joseph Fielding Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1938, pp. 346–47.)
How many times do we allow little “butterflies” to reduce, restrain, or restrict our immense potential from guiding us to exaltation?
Proportionately they are relatively few, those who are detained in their journey by the so-called grave or serious sins, like those we might find in the newspaper headlines. Generally, it is not the mighty eagle that defeats us, but the tiny little “butterflies.”
To better illustrate this concept, I would like to mention some of those “road hazards” that become obstacles in our marvelous journey to the celestial kingdom.
Have we thought about the tremendous spiritual deterioration that results from not keeping the Sabbath day holy? This commandment involves much more than just resting from our labors. Keeping the Sabbath day holy inherently builds spiritual character and prepares us for what is to come. By observing this commandment, we will have power over evil; we will be more capable of keeping the commandments of the Lord and maintaining ourselves unspotted from the sins of the world. (See D&C 59:9.)
More specifically, speaking about the Sabbath day, have we thought about the spiritual malnourishment that results from not attending our sacrament meetings, or attending them with a wrong attitude? The sacred covenant made by the members of the Church at baptism should be the prevailing thought and feeling in our hearts and minds as we partake of the sacrament. If we can achieve this, we will always have the Spirit of the Lord with us.
No member of the Church can ignore or simply put aside the weekly renewal of this covenant and pretend to maintain the Spirit. If we really understand the purpose of our sacrament meetings, we will attend them not just to hear someone speak, which is of course important, but to renew the sacred covenants made with our Father in Heaven in the name of his son, Jesus Christ. Those who make a habit of not attending this weekly service, and fail to repent, put in great danger their spiritual stability and welfare.
Have we ever stopped to think what it means to our salvation when we neglect prayer, or don’t develop daily from our prayers repeatedly gratifying experiences? We are continually referring to the “power of prayer,”. but are we always willing to pay the price so that the promise we find in 3 Nephi 18:18–20 may be fulfilled?
“Behold, verily, verily, I say unto you, ye must watch and pray always lest ye enter into temptation; for Satan desireth to have you, that he may sift you as wheat.
“Therefore ye must always pray unto the Father in my name;
“And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold it shall be given unto you.”
Another example: do we realize that every time that we sustain the leaders of the Church we are duty bound to support them? The raised hand becomes a symbol of the covenant we make to support them. Each time we criticize or condemn them, we become literally covenant breakers. President Joseph F. Smith made the following comment about this problem:
“The moment a man says he will not submit to the legally constituted authority of the Church, whether it be the teachers, the bishopric, the high council, his quorum, or the First Presidency, and in his heart confirms it and carries it out, that moment he cuts himself off from the privileges and blessings of the Priesthood and Church, and severs himself from the people of God, for he ignores the authority that the Lord has instituted in his Church.” (Gospel Doctrine, 5th ed., Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1939, p. 45.)
I have had innumerable experiences listening to the reasons people have for not paying their tithing, most of which are just cases of a simple lack of faith.
I remember once in 1957, while I was acting as a new president of a branch in Argentina, I decided to interview the members with respect to the importance of paying tithing. I found myself talking with one good brother of the branch whose name was Jose, who had difficulty paying his tithing. I asked him bluntly, “Brother Jose, why don’t you pay your tithing?” I’m sure Jose didn’t expect me to be so direct.
After a moment of silence he responded: “As you know, President, I have two children. The wage of a laborer is very low. This month I have to buy my children shoes to go to school; and, mathematically, I just don’t have enough money.”
In an instant response, I said, “Jose, I promise you that if you pay your tithing faithfully, your children will have their shoes to go to school, and you will be able to pay for all the needs of your home. I don’t know how he will do it, but the Lord always keeps his promises. Besides that,” I added, “If you still find that you don’t have enough money, I will give you back what you paid in tithing from my own pocket.”
On the way home, I wondered if what I had done was the right thing. Here I was, recently married, just getting started in my career, and faced with my own economic problems. I began to worry about my own shoes, let alone those of Jose’s family! Even though when I got home my dear wife wholeheartedly supported me and reassured me that everything would be all right, I must say that that night nobody prayed harder for Brother Jose’s economic welfare than I did.
One month later, I once again sat down with Jose. Though the tears in his eyes almost made it impossible for him to speak, he said: “President, it is incredible. I paid my tithing; I was able to meet all of my obligations, and I even purchased the new shoes for my children, all without an increase in my wage. I know that the Lord keeps his promises!”
Jose remains to this day a faithful tithe payer.
Up until now, I have mentioned only a few of the problems arising from the little “butterflies” that we find in our eternal pathway. Of course, there are many more. We could mention, for example, the lack of self-control that leads many people to break the Word of Wisdom; the various excuses for not complying with the program of personal and family preparedness; the lack of encouragement and the apathy with regard to our genealogical responsibilities; the failure to return often to the temples of the Lord to do the necessary work for our kindred dead; in some cases the lack of interest, in other cases the fear, that precludes many from participating in missionary work. These are only examples of a list that goes on and on.
It is highly probable that we will never lose our status as members of the Church simply for not adhering to one or more of the aforementioned commandments. Nevertheless, whether individually or collectively, these little “butterflies” affect our spiritual development and, fundamentally, the real capability of each individual.
“For the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves. And inasmuch as men do good they shall in nowise lose their reward.” (D&C 58:28.)
The Lord hasn’t sent us to the world to fail. We have been invested with all of the talents and abilities necessary for the journey to arrive, to be once again in His presence. Our greatest challenge is to use faithfully and decidedly all that He has given us to reach our exaltation. If such is our accomplishment—if we “live by every word that proceedeth forth from the mouth of God” (D&C 84:44)—at the end of our journey we will once again be part of a glorious experience such as we had at the start, when “all the sons of God shouted for joy.” (Job 38:7.)
I know that the Lord has made this possible and that he blesses us and will continue to bless us as we progress to our glorious destination. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The spiritual roots of my family tree have been strengthened for three generations because of the unwavering faith of my great-grandfather.

Another example in my family history reminds me not to doubt. In 1913 in Mexico, Elder Ernest Young and his companions preached the gospel to my great-great-grandmother Maria de Jesus de Monroy, a widow; her three daughters, Natalia, Jovita, and Guadalupe; and her only son, Rafael—my great-grandfather. They were baptized on June 10. Two months later, citizens of the United States left the country because of the Mexican Revolution.

On August 29, 1913, the day President Rey L. Pratt and all American missionaries were to depart, Rafael Monroy, a 34-year-old convert of two months, went to the mission home to express his concern. “What is going to become of us?” he asked. “There is no organized branch in San Marcos, and we don’t have the priesthood.” Listening to Rafael’s concerns, President Pratt asked him to sit down. He placed his hands on Rafael’s head, conferred on him the Melchizedek Priesthood, ordained him an elder, and set him apart as president of the San Marcos Branch.

Rafael, who understood that his baptismal covenant was sacred and eternal, also understood that he should share the gospel. For 23 months he and his counselor, Vicente Morales, helped in the conversion and baptism of more than 50 people. They preached to dozens more.

Then, on July 17, 1915, the revolution arrived in San Marcos. Revolutionary soldiers accused Rafael and Vicente of belonging to and supporting the opposing army, hiding weapons, and belonging to a strange religion. They took them prisoner, tortured them, and hanged them until they fainted. Then the soldiers gave them one last chance to save their lives. They would be spared if they would renounce their religion. Rafael answered, “I cannot do it, for I know that what I have received is true.”

Rafael and Vicente did not doubt. They acted consistent with their knowledge and testimony. At the end of that day, they were executed by the Liberation Army of the South, giving their lives for what they believed.1

My investigation of the Church lasted 15 years. And though the missionaries who first taught me were disappointed to see my testimony wither, their work wasn’t in vain. If they had not sown the seed, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I will never be able to thank them enough for what they did. The seeds they sowed I shared with others—and they, in turn, continued to nourish the seed in my heart until it flowered in joy and our hearts were woven together in faith and love.

What parent would say to a child, “Learning to walk is such a painful and difficult experience, you will stumble, you will most likely hurt yourself, you will cry many times when you fall. I will protect you from the struggle”? I have watched our youngest grandson, Seth, as he was learning to walk. Through this process of gaining experience, he now walks with confidence. Could I have said to him, “Out of my love for you, I will save you from this”? If so, because I could not bear to see him take a tumble at times, he may have never learned to walk. That is unthinkable for a loving parent or grandparent.
The child, if he or she is ever to walk, must pass through the stumbling and often painful process of learning. We encouraged Seth to learn through his experience. Yes, even knowing that the process would be difficult, we knew that the freedom and joy of walking would outweigh any temporary pain or adversity.

Jesse fidgeted from one foot to the other and chewed hard on his bottom lip. He couldn’t believe that he had really rung Mrs. Finster’s doorbell. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Some of the kids at school said that she was a witch, but Mom said that that was silly and to not talk mean about people.
Jesse glanced back at the huge rosebush next to the sidewalk. He and his best friend, Billy, walked by that bush every afternoon on their way home from first grade. It was loaded with large pink flowers. He could barely see the top of Billy’s head ducked behind that bush. He could have just used his pocket knife to cut off a rose—Mrs. Finster would have never known. Maybe he could still do it. …
The door opened suddenly, and Jesse jumped. A gray-haired woman, her face creased with wrinkle upon wrinkle, stood silently in front of him.
“I’m Jesse Brown. I wanted a rose for my mama, and you have a bunch, and pink’s her favorite, and it would make her really happy, but it’s OK if you say no. Sorry to bother you.” Jesse turned to run. Billy was already halfway down the block.
“Wait just a minute, young man. You want one of my roses for your mother, is that it?”
Jesse turned slowly back to face her, “Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind.” He hoped that he could remember his manners—this was no time to mess up.
“Haven’t you heard that I eat little boys who bother me?”
Jesse would have run, but his legs wouldn’t move. “Yes, ma’am, but I don’t believe it. It’s against the law, you know.”
Mrs. Finster’s smile lit up her whole face. It twinkled from her eyes and melted away most of her wrinkles. “I’ll get my clippers, and we’ll get the biggest, prettiest pink rose your mother has ever seen.”
As they walked down the driveway, Mrs. Finster said, “Your mother must be very proud of you. Other boys might have just taken a rose. But you see, if a rose isn’t clipped just right, it damages both the bush and the flower. I’m glad that you asked first.”
“Me too.” Jesse felt pretty good inside. Mama would be pleased with him—and she was going to love the rose!
They searched the bush together for the biggest, brightest rose. When they found it, Jesse thought that it smelled almost as good as fresh-baked cookies. Mrs. Finster clipped it so that it had a nice long stem and handed it to Jesse. “Be careful of the thorns,” she warned with a smile.
Jesse held his prize gently in his hands. “Thank you very much,” he said. He turned and started for home.
“Stop by anytime,” Mrs. Finster called after him. “I have plenty of roses.”
“I will,” Jesse promised as he waved back to Mrs. Finster. “I’ll stop by soon.”

Let me share with you for a few moments the positive, progressive attitude of a friend of mine formerly confined in the Utah State Prison. “I don’t want to blame anyone back home for my being in prison, but it is factual that I had no family relationships. I was involved in the family home evening program at the prison. Without the people [parents] who had been assigned to me through this program, many times I would have given up. These people loved me as if I were their own son. I have never had that, even when I was a small boy. Now with their help and the help of others I believe I can make it back a day at a time. I am not proud of having been in prison, but I am proud of my recent experiences while there. We have a tendency to blame others. We don’t want to blame our parents for not loving us, because we know they do, but maybe they didn’t have the guidance and direction in their lives to apply when they were bringing us up.”
Perhaps in the minds of many of us this fine young man would be justified in knocking his parents, knocking society, and knocking our systems, but he didn’t. Instead, he is thanking those who have helped him and is sincerely grateful for the direction in which his life is moving today.
Church attenders in prisons are, unfortunately, in the minority and are often classified by their associates in uncomplimentary terms, but this fine young man, bless his courage, is not ashamed to be identified as a member of “God’s Squad.”

But at least as numerous as the stories of those who faltered are the stories of the quiet heroes who did not. Though not mentioned by name in the Doctrine and Covenants, Polly Knight, mother of the family who so faithfully stood by the Prophet, became the first Latter-day Saint laid to rest in Missouri and earned her place in Church history. Traveling to settle in Missouri, she became so ill that her son, Newel, was dispatched from the riverboat to buy lumber for her coffin. Despite her illness, she insisted on completing the journey and died soon after reaching the gathering place.
After burying his wife in Missouri, Joseph Knight recorded the following: “She was Burried in the woods a spot Chosen out By our selves. I was along By where she was Buried a few Days after and I found the pigs had Began to root where she was Burried. I Being verry unwell But I took my ax the next Day and went and Bilt a pen around it. It was the Last I done for her.”10 Her faithful sacrifice bears the Lord’s benediction. Soon after her death, the Lord told Joseph Smith, “Those that die shall rest from all their labors, and their works shall follow them; and they shall receive a crown in the mansions of my Father, which I have prepared for them” (D&C 59:2).