Gospel Story Finder

It was a cloudy day at the end of the summer. My friend Iveta and I were going to the older part of our city. We had been doing missionary work for quite a long time, finding members of the Church who had been converted before World War II. During the Communist rule in our small country of Czechoslovakia (now the Czech and Slovak republics), many of the Church members had died. But we had a list of names and went in search of the few remaining members of the Church.
We met a woman who told us her parents had been LDS before they passed away. We decided to visit her and ask what she knew about the Church—we thought she might be interested in the gospel, or would perhaps be able to refer us to others who had been related to Church members. When we got to her home we discovered that her grandmother was still living. She was so happy to see us—she was a Church member! She told us lots of stories about the Church before the war. Then she showed us an old picture of the Salt Lake Temple.
Her words gave me reason to think about my own life. Would I be able to distinguish the Spirit so easily after 50 years without contact with the Lord’s church? My heart was full of gratitude to Heavenly Father for leading us to this wonderful woman.
Doing missionary work in my spare time that summer taught me many great lessons. I now understand that the Lord will never forsake those who believe in him.

Billy knew if he could ever win the permanent position as center fielder for the Highland Lake Tigers, he would have to prove himself now. Hermie had just walloped the ball, and it was sailing straight for center field.
Billy could not take his eyes off the white ball. He knew that with his poor eyesight if he looked away for even an instant, he might not be able to again locate the ball in time. Billy also knew that if he would only put on his new glasses, he could see perfectly. But he wasn’t going to give his teammates a chance to call him “four-eyes.” No sir! Those glasses were going to stay under the socks in his dresser drawer for the whole summer vacation.
The ball was dropping fast now, and as Billy ran toward it with his outstretched arms, he ran smack into Marty. The collision left both Billy and Marty sprawled on the grass with the ball on the ground between them. Billy jumped to his feet, but he was too late. Hermie was on third!
“Oh, Billy!” groaned Marty, “What’s the matter with you? You’d think I was invisible the way you ran into me.”
Billy muttered something under his breath about the accident being Marty’s fault. But Billy knew who was at fault. He should have seen Marty standing there! After all, Marty was the tallest boy on the team this year.
When the game was over, Billy walked over to watch Mr. Francers, who was busily sanding the weathered bottom of his boat. Billy sat down dejectedly on a pile of old lumber.
“Well, that was a bit of bad luck you had out there, Billy,” Mr. Francers sympathized.
“I guess so,” sighed Billy. “I sure missed that ball.”
“But you didn’t miss Marty!” chuckled Mr. Francers. “When you arrived last week and I helped your family unload the station wagon, didn’t I see you wearing a pair of glasses?”
“I guess so,” admitted Billy. Then he told Mr. Francers how he was afraid the other boys would laugh at him, and so he had decided to keep his glasses in a drawer all summer.
“I know just how you feel, Billy,” Mr. Francers smiled. “I began wearing glasses when I was younger than you, and I must admit they were a nuisance.”
Mr. Francers paused for a minute as if he were remembering something, and then he continued, “It’s a funny thing, Billy, but I tried to get by without wearing my glasses just like you’re doing. Then one day when I was playing baseball, I looked around at my teammates and realized that baseball is a true team sport! I expected the best from each of my teammates. But there was one boy on the team who was not giving his very best—me! From that day on I always wore my glasses. I’m sure if I hadn’t, my baseball career would have gone no further than those sandlot games.”
“Did you play professional baseball?” gasped Billy.
“Yes, fifteen years in the major leagues—and I loved every minute of it!”
“Wow!” cried Billy, jumping up. “I didn’t know that!” Billy hesitated and then added, “I just remembered something I left at the cottage. I’ll see you later.”
As the afternoon breezes began picking up off the lake and small clouds of dust swirled around homeplate, Billy was given another chance at center field. But Billy knew that this time it was going to be different—he would be doing his best. He was being honest with his teammates and honest with himself. Billy could see this fact quite easily now—especially with his new glasses!

In last April’s conference, in the general priesthood meeting, I told about my father drawing a picture of a knight in armor to teach me about putting on the whole armor of God and the spiritual protection it brings.

After that session was over, a father reported to his family what he had learned. Inspired, their young son Jason searched LDS.org to hear the message for himself. A few days later he appeared in family home evening to share the lesson with his brothers and sisters. Here he is.

Jason in his “whole armor of God”

A simple conference message, inspired of the Lord, received by a child, was taught to a family in a personal, powerful way. I love his breastplate of righteousness. I love his shield of faith to thwart the fiery darts of the adversary. These are the blessings of conference.

This past summer my wife and I were again blessed to be with President and Sister Kimball and other General Authorities and their wives at area conferences in Scandinavia and Europe. Following the closing session in Copenhagen, Denmark, we all visited a cathedral referred to as the Dome. Within this great edifice are the best-loved works of Denmark’s greatest sculptor, Bertel Thorvaldsen—his original Christus and the Twelve Apostles. The imposing statue of Christ stands in an alcove at the front of the cathedral beyond an altar. Standing in order along the two sides of the cathedral are the lifelike statues of the apostles, with Paul replacing the betrayer Judas Iscariot. As we looked at those beautiful works of art we noted that Peter was sculptured with large keys in his hands; John is holding scriptures. Others of the Twelve are shown with identifying symbols indicating, for example, the manner in which they earned a living or how they were martyred. President Kimball thoughtfully studied each statue.
As we were ready to leave the cathedral, the Danish caretaker, a man about sixty years of age, was standing near the door awaiting our departure. President Kimball shook his hand, thanked him for his kindness in letting us visit the cathedral. Then the president began an explanation of the church established by Jesus Christ and of its importance to us. All those present gathered near to be taught by the prophet.
He began in simple words which went something like this: “My dear friend, the man who created these statues was surely inspired of the Lord. The beauty and majesty of the Christus are wonderful. While Thorvaldsen was doing his work here, in 1821 to 1844 Joseph Smith was doing his work in America. Thorvaldsen didn’t have the gospel as did Joseph Smith, but he had the Spirit. He must have been inspired to create these statues of Christ and the apostles. He was trying to bring them to life.”
Gathering President Tanner, Elder Monson, and Elder Packer closer to him, the president continued, “We are living apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. There are Twelve Apostles and three others who are the presidency of the Church. We hold the real keys, as Peter did, and we use them every day. They are in use constantly.” Then the president introduced me. “This is a real, live seventy,” he said. “You will recall that the Savior called His Twelve Apostles and His seventy. He sent the seventy two by two before His face into every city into which He Himself should come to prepare the way before Him. We can give you the true gospel of Jesus Christ.”
What a thrilling spiritual feeling to hear the prophet bear witness of his own calling and to have so graphically illustrated the importance of living apostles. As beautifully and masterfully done as the statues were, they were only marble and could do no more than remind us of the real priesthood leaders which they represented. How blessed we all felt to be present with a living prophet and apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. Brethren, we must be more than “marble.” We must follow the prophet’s lead and become “living examples” of Christ—bearers—living carriers of His message of salvation to those about us.

On a May morning in 1843 some of the Apostles were meeting in Joseph Smith’s office in Nauvoo. Opposition to the Church was building in Illinois, and persecution of the Saints was increasing. Yet at this difficult time, the leaders called four men to leave their families, travel far from their homes, and serve missions in the Sandwich Islands (Hawaiian Islands). They were the first missionaries called to a non-English-speaking mission field. The four men—Addison Pratt, Noah Rogers, Benjamin F. Grouard, and Knowlton F. Hanks—were set apart on May 23 by Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Orson Hyde, and Parley P. Pratt.
The missionaries first traveled east to New Bedford, Massachusetts, where they hoped to find a ship going to their mission area. When they couldn’t find one, they booked passage on a ship traveling to the Society Islands (French Polynesian Islands) in the South Pacific. They set sail on October 9, 1843.
After they had been at sea only a few weeks, Elder Hanks, a young man who had suffered from ill health, died and was buried in the Atlantic. The three remaining missionaries continued on. Their voyage took them east across the Atlantic, around the Cape of Good Hope, across the Indian Ocean, along the southern coast of Australia, and into the Pacific.
The first island reached by the ship was Tubuai in 1844. When the natives there pleaded with the missionaries to stay, Addison Pratt left the ship to teach these people who had shown them kindness and hospitality. Serving there alone for many months, struggling to learn the Polynesian language, he baptized sixty out of a population of two hundred and organized the first branch of the Church in the South Pacific. To this day, the Latter-day Saint community on Tubuai is a strong one.
Elder Pratt’s two former companions traveled on to Tahiti, where their teaching met with far less success. After a few months, Elder Rogers traveled west to the leeward islands and Elder Grouard sailed to the island of Anaa in the Tuamotus. Elder Rogers again met with little success and much opposition. When rumors finally reached him of the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith, he began to fear for the safety of his family in Nauvoo, and he returned to America. He died during the exodus from Nauvoo.
The people of Anaa, on the other hand, came to greatly love Elder Grouard. He was the first white missionary of any kind to come to their island, and many of them accepted the truth he taught. He baptized over six hundred natives, organized five branches, and called local officers to serve. He wrote to Elder Pratt and asked him to come to Anaa, as there was too much work for him to do alone.
Elder Pratt responded to his companion’s invitation, and a conference of the Church was held on Anaa with over eight hundred in attendance. At this time Addison Pratt decided to travel back to Church headquarters to request more missionaries to help in the work in the South Pacific. Leaving Elder Grouard behind, he traveled first to California, then to the Salt Lake Valley, arriving in September 1848, one week after his wife and four daughters had arrived from Winter Quarters.

One of the hardest things for many of you is modesty. How can we apply the spiritual power of our baptism to the principle of modesty? We hope one of the things that makes you different from the world is the way you dress. Marcie Matthews, a Laurel from Chicago, Illinois, shares her story:
“1998 was a year that I was able to see the results of many Young Women lessons, talks, and advice come into play. I am an average Mormon girl. Being able to keep my life this steady and strong has not been easy. I make goals all the time to help strengthen my testimony and my standards.
“Recently we had a Mutual activity on the importance of modesty. Every lesson before I felt like I was a modest dresser, but I knew there was still something I could change—my shorts and the length of my skirts. It was the one weakness that I knew I had but had placed far behind in my head. Everyone wore short shorts, Daisy Dukes, and miniskirts, and I had bought mine with my own money. Then I heard the lesson on modesty. I went home wanting to go straight to my closet and throw away everything that was not modest so it wouldn’t be there to tempt me. After, I told my parents. I guess I was looking for them to tell me that there was no problem in the way I dressed and then let me go.
“Later that night my dad told me he was proud of me and that he would like to buy me a couple of knee-length dresses for church. The next step was to go through all my clothes and give away everything. It was hard for me to part with my favorite skirts and the shorts that I loved so much, but I did. You will never see me in short shorts or short skirts again.
“I have never felt better about myself. I love being able to walk into the temple and church and feel like I am a child of God and am representing Him … by the clothes that I wear.
“I challenge every young woman to take this step. It will help you find out who you are and what you stand for. When we have to give up something that is a part of us, the blessings will pour in more than you can imagine” (letter in possession of Young Women office).
Marcie’s great example epitomizes our Young Women theme. You know, the part that says, “We stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things”—and in all prom dresses.

When I was 14, my father was diagnosed with cancer. Doctors estimated that with chemotherapy, he had a 50 percent chance of living eight years or longer. Since the alternatives were even less encouraging, my father decided to suffer through the six months of weekly treatments.
At the end of the chemotherapy, my ward in Bountiful held a special fast for my father. It was a marvelous experience to join in faith for a common cause. When the diagnosis came back, the doctors could find no sign of cancer. After I left for my mission, I received letters from my father telling me of his continued improvements and how he even ran a marathon. Things seemed to be going well.
The summer before my mission ended, I was serving with a missionary named Elder Causse. He was from a branch in Bourdeaux, France, a place I had once considered “out there in the mission field.”
One morning my mission president called me into his office and told me my father would be calling. When the phone rang, the president excused himself and left me alone. I was apprehensive as I picked up the phone.
My father greeted me, then told me his cancer had relapsed. He would again go through chemotherapy. I then spoke to my mother, who told me our ward was going to fast again. I said I would join in the fast as well. After I hung the phone up, I wiped away a few tears and walked out of the office.
On the way back to our assigned area, I explained the situation to Elder Causse. He promised to fast with me, and his promise gave me comfort. But he did not stop there. He wrote to his family in France and told them what had happened. They, too, said that they would fast for my father and that they would ask the members of the Bourdeaux Branch to join the fast as well. I was astounded that they would fast for the health of a man they did not know.
At that moment, the Spirit spoke softly to me, and suddenly I understood what it means to be “fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). We are of one faith, united in the gospel with bonds stronger than illness or death. We are truly brothers and sisters. None of us is a stranger, no matter what land we happen to worship in.

A week ago I had an interesting experience. Without any official assignment, I attended a stake conference in a rural area of southeastern Utah. The stake president and his wife had invited Sister Hinckley and me to stay at their home. While he conducted his Saturday afternoon meeting, we rode about the stake, visiting a half-dozen little towns, in each of which there is a Church meetinghouse. We noted that the lawns were green and the buildings nicely kept, although they are small and some of them are old. We drove about and looked at the homes, modest in their appearance, but in almost every case there was neatness and beauty with flowers in bloom. Having a free Saturday and Sunday, I had wanted to make this trip simply to thank the people for their faith and faithfulness and to express my love to them. Most of them are farm folk who work hard for a small return. But they know a great truth. They know the law of the harvest—“Whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye also reap.” (D&C 6:33.)

They know that you do not reap wheat after sowing oats. They know that you do not get a racehorse from a scrub mare. They know that if you are to build another great generation, you must work with vision and faith. You must dream and plan, serve and sacrifice, pray and labor. After being with these wonderful people for two days, Sister Hinckley observed, “These are the kind who constitute the glue that holds the Church together.”

The home where we stayed was not pretentious, but it was comfortable and clean and delightful. The husband, I believe, did not have a large income, but he knew how to spend it wisely, first paying his tithes and offerings and setting aside some in savings. His wife is a beautiful woman, the mother of six sons and one daughter. You need not look far to know that in that home there is love and respect one for another. There is appreciation and gratitude. Through the years they have known adversity—lean times and death-threatening sickness.

I repeat—I went among these people to express my gratitude and love. I felt a great overwhelming measure of love in return. Here in this stake of small rural wards, among people who made no pretense of sophistication, I found strength and faith and virtue. I found men whose hands were gnarled and whose skin was wrinkled with the sun’s heat of many summers—men in whose hearts there was a great capacity for love—love for the land and the sky above it, love for their wives and children, love for the Church and its eternal purposes, love for God and the Savior of all mankind.

I looked into the eyes of beautiful women—women of virtue and strength and capacity, older women who knew much of struggle and disappointment and pain, young women who knew much of purpose and goodness and art and learning. I looked into the eyes of children—beautiful and innocent and wonderful.

I do not wish to imply that I could not find such in cities and towns all over the world. Such people are to be found everywhere, but somehow there seemed so much larger a percentage of them among the folks whom we visited. Their feet were planted on the solid earth. They knew the meaning of work without respect to hours or season.

I also wanted to visit among them because I have met their sons and daughters in the mission field in many lands. These have been effective missionaries because they have learned to get up in the morning and get their chores done. They have been dedicated missionaries because when they were very young they learned to pray at their mothers’ knees and heard their fathers bear testimony of the truth of this great latter-day work. Not only have these sons and daughters gone on missions, but by dint of great sacrifice they have gone away to school and won places of honor across the nation as they serve in business and the professions.

Last December I was discouraged and did not want to decorate my house or celebrate Christmas. Then I read an article in the December 2011 Liahona that described how the pioneers celebrated Christmas: dancing to a whistled tune because they had no musical instruments—in spite of having no gifts and too little to eat (see “Christmas for the Early Pioneers” in “Small and Simple Things,” 9). That article helped me change my attitude and take heart. Sometimes we do not recognize or value all that we have.
Ana Rosa de Melo Ferreira, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Let me give you a story of a woman in São Paulo, Brazil. She worked while going to school to provide for her family. I use her own words in telling this story. She says:

“The university in which I studied had a regulation that prohibited the students that were in debt from taking tests. For this reason, when I received my salary I would first separate the money for tithing and offerings, and the remainder was allotted for the payment of the school and other expenses.

“I remember a time when I … faced serious financial difficulties. It was a Thursday when I received my salary. When I figured the monthly budget, I noticed that there wouldn’t be enough to pay [both] my tithing and my university. I would have to choose between them. The bimonthly tests would start the following week, and if I didn’t take them I could lose the school year. I felt great agony. … My heart ached. I had a painful decision before me, and I didn’t know what to decide. I pondered between the two choices: to pay tithing or to risk the possibility of not obtaining the necessary credits to be approved in school.

“This feeling consumed my soul and remained with me up to Saturday. It was then that I remembered that when I was baptized I had agreed to live the law of tithing. I had taken upon myself an obligation, not with the missionaries, but with my Heavenly Father. At that moment, the anguish started to disappear, giving place to a pleasant sensation of tranquility and determination. …

“That night when I prayed, I asked the Lord to forgive me for my indecision. On Sunday, before the beginning of sacrament meeting, I contacted the bishop, and with great pleasure I paid my tithing and offerings. That was a special day. I felt happy and peaceful within myself and with Heavenly Father.

“The next day I was in my office; I tried to find a way to be able to take the tests that would begin on Wednesday. The more I thought, the further I felt from a solution. At that time I worked in an attorney’s office, and my employer was the most strict and austere person I had ever met.

“The working period was ending when my employer approached and gave the last orders of the day. When he had done so, with his briefcase in his hand he bid farewell. … Suddenly he halted, and looking at me he asked, ‘How is your college?’ I was surprised, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The only thing I could answer with a trembling voice was, ‘Everything is all right!’ He looked thoughtfully at me and bid farewell again. …

“Suddenly the secretary entered the room, saying that I was a very fortunate person! When I asked her why, she simply answered: ‘The employer has just said that from today on the company is going to pay fully for your college and your books. Before you leave, stop at my desk and inform me of the costs so that tomorrow I can give you the check.’

“After she left, crying and feeling very humble, I knelt exactly where I was and thanked the Lord for His generosity. I … said to Heavenly Father that He didn’t have to bless me so much. I only needed the cost of one month’s installment, and the tithing I had paid on Sunday was very small compared to the amount I was receiving! During that prayer the words recorded in Malachi came to my mind: ‘Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it’ (Mal. 3:10). Up to that moment I had never felt the magnitude of the promise contained in that scripture and that this commandment was truly a witness of the love that God, our Heavenly Father, gives to His children here on earth.”

Like any couple, my husband and I have had disagreements during our marriage. But one incident stands out in my mind. I no longer recall the reason for our disagreement, but we ended up not speaking at all, and I remember feeling that it was all my husband’s fault. I felt I had done absolutely nothing for which I needed to apologize.
As the day went by, I waited for my husband to say he was sorry. Surely he could see how wrong he was. It must be obvious how much he had hurt my feelings. I felt I had to stand up for myself; it was the principle that mattered.
As the day was drawing to a close, I started to realize that I was waiting in vain, so I went to the Lord in prayer. I prayed that my husband would realize what he had done and how it was hurting our marriage. I prayed that he would be inspired to apologize so we could end our disagreement.
As I was praying, I felt a strong impression that I should go to my husband and apologize. I was a bit shocked by this impression and immediately pointed out in my prayer that I had done nothing wrong and therefore should not have to say I was sorry. A thought came strongly to my mind: “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be married?”
As I considered this question, I realized that I could hold onto my pride and not give in until he apologized, but how long would that take? Days? I was miserable while we weren’t speaking to each other. I understood that while this incident itself wouldn’t be the end of our marriage, if I were always unyielding, that might cause serious damage over the years. I decided it was more important to have a happy, loving marriage than to keep my pride intact over something that would later seem trivial.
I went to my husband and apologized for upsetting him. He also apologized, and soon we were happy and united again in love.
Since that time there have been occasions when I have needed to ask myself that question again: “Do you want to be right, or do you want to be married?” How grateful I am for the great lesson I learned the first time I faced that question. It has always helped me realign my perspective and put my husband and my marriage before my own pride.

The Coopers are driving a long way to visit Grandma!
Will we ever make it? It’s taking forever.
Speed up, Mom, so we get there faster.
I’m going the speed limit now.
Can’t you go a little faster?
Remember the twelfth article of faith?
Oh yeah. The part about obeying the law.
Well, if we don’t make it tonight, we do have blankets …
… and sleeping bags!
… and food!
Ha, ha, ha!
Twelfth Article of Faith
“We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.”

Brushing up on their service skills meant the youth hauled woodchip-filled wheelbarrows, wielded paintbrushes, and picked up trash at a park near their stake center. They toted their trash bags to a nearby school to beautify it as well. Some of the youth also went to a rest home and played games with and sang to the residents.
Jane Wilson, a Laurel, really enjoyed serving in her stake. She says, “It’s kind of hard to choose the right with all the bad influences around you.” But you can tell when you’re doing what you should because of “the joy you feel when you’re doing what’s right.”

That first memorable experience led to other strong confirmations that God lives and that Jesus is our Lord and Savior. Many of these came in response to earnest prayer. As a child, when I lost things such as my precious pocketknife, I learned that if I prayed hard enough, I could usually find them. I was always able to find the lost cows I was entrusted with. Sometimes I had to pray more than once, but my prayers always seemed to be answered. Sometimes the answer was no, but most often it was positive and confirming. Even when it was no, I came to know that, in the Lord’s great wisdom, the answer I received was for my best good. My faith continued to grow as building blocks were added to the cornerstone, line upon line and precept upon precept.

Now I haven’t taken it just on the basis of one testimony, because my mind won’t permit me that luxury, and I don’t think most minds will. I came back from that war and used my GI bill and went to college. First of all, what a struggle that was because of the void I’d created in high school. I happened to have married out of the Church, and while I was fortunate to convert my wife and see her come in and be one of the strongest Latter-day Saints you’ll ever know, what a risk I took, as I reflect back. Anyway, she came from a very strong Protestant family, and in order to handle myself effectively, or at least as effectively as I thought I should, I attended a Protestant theological school of their faith and graduated with their ministers, because I wanted to know, scripturally speaking, whether the Mormon Church could stand the test of the world. And how happy I am to report that not only did I get a testimony when I asked as Moroni indicates, but I put it to the test for years in one of the best theological schools on the west coast. And the gospel is true, brothers and sisters. Are you willing to invest the time and energy and the commitment in prayer to see if I’m right?

At the beginning of 2007, my husband and I were called to produce a cultural celebration for the rededication of the temple. The event was to be held on November 3, a day before the rededication sessions.
Our aim was to involve as many youth as possible from the stakes in Tongatapu and to come up with a presentation that would spiritually prepare the Saints for the temple dedication the next day. The event would be broadcast and televised live to the outer islands as well as to Tongan stakes around the globe, so this was a mighty task.
During the week of the rededication, it rained heavily. At our final rehearsal, on November 2, the skies were overcast. I asked the youth to return to their homes and pray for good weather so they would be able to perform for Tonga and for those who would be watching via satellite, especially the prophet. That night it rained hard, and the next morning the weather was still foreboding.
On Saturday evening, 3,000 young people gathered at Teufaiva Stadium to hear from Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had been sent to rededicate the temple due to President Hinckley’s frail health. I will never forget the performance. Everything fell into place. The weather was perfect, the sound system that had malfunctioned earlier was excellent, and those young men and young women danced their hearts out.
We had witnessed a miracle. Heavenly Father heard the prayers of His children and kept the rain away. At the same time, we were able to set the tone for the temple dedication the next day, reminding members that eternal families are the treasure that lasts and that temples are built to bring such blessings to pass.

Once upon a time there was a banker. He was a good, thoughtful man, and, like most bankers, was thinking about that which is close to the heart of all bankers: the interest rate. If you were to ask this banker to list the greatest inventions of all time in order of their importance to mankind, he would unhesitatingly rank the charging of interest as the most important of all, even above electricity, the steam engine, atomic power, etc.
You see, if you lend money at interest, you hardly have to work to make a profit. You need only make wise decisions as to whom you can trust to return the money at the appointed time with the agreed interest. The banker keeps the interest for himself, his employees, and his patrons and turns around to loan the same money out again. It is a nice business! Everyone seems to come out ahead. The person who puts his money in the bank as savings can get more money back than he deposited at any time he wants it back. The person who borrows makes a profit on his business transaction, so he is happy to split that profit by returning more to the bank than he borrowed.
So our thoughtful banker was happily meditating upon this miraculous circle of mutual benefits to the depositor, the borrower, and of course, the banker. Then he remembered that the Savior had good things to say about interest too.
He turned to the parable of the talents in Matthew. This parable tells of a servant who took his master’s five talents and traded them until he had doubled the money. The second servant took his two talents and did likewise. But the third servant did not use the money; he hid it so as not to lose it, earning nothing with it! When the master returned and asked for an accounting, he commended both the first and the second servants equally for having been faithful. He promised them increased responsibilities in the future, with implied higher benefits for them. He scolded the third, called him slothful, and said, “Thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the exchangers [the bankers of that day], and then at my coming I should have received mine own with usury [what we call interest” (Matt. 25:27). The banker realized that the Savior did know the advantage of interest.
He then thought of the several different kinds of banks: money banks, blood banks, eye cornea banks, and royal jelly banks. Why not have a love bank! He quickly organized and opened the new love bank in his city. Anyone depositing acts of love would receive more in return when they withdrew them. The only restriction was that those who borrowed love could not use it for themselves but had to give the love to someone else. The love bank grew and prospered with all the increased love.
A father borrowed some love from the bank and gave it to his children. He was amazed at what happened! Not only did he receive blessings in his relationship with his children, but it seemed as though he suddenly received more love from others: his wife, his parents, his neighbors, his quorum president, and his fellow workers.
A wife borrowed some love from the bank and used it on her husband. With the loan she gave much more love and affection than ever before. The more she did for her husband, the more she loved him, and the more he returned that love. The children noticed how much love mom gave dad, and they too gave dad and mom more attention, more obedience, and more love. The wife became such a happy person that love just came to her from all sides. The Relief Society work went better. The sisters gave her more love than ever before. The grouchy neighbor changed into a person happy to see her, loving her as a sister. Her mother-in-law, seeing such a loving family, changed her mind and said that her son had made a wise choice in his marriage. The children also found that they could borrow love from the bank. They gave love to each other. Astounding results! There was no more rivalry or quarreling. They shared happily. They willingly completed their assigned chores and did extra things.
The borrowing families had so much love left over after paying back their loan at the bank, with interest, that they didn’t have any place for all the extra love. So just like we share our surplus from our gardens with neighbors and friends, they began to share the surplus love with their neighbors and friends. They ran errands, tended children, mowed lawns for vacationers, and helped those who were ill with meals and tasks. They made phantom cookie deliveries and performed phantom car washes while no one was looking. The blessings they received in return were greater if no one knew who had done it.
This made the surplus of love grow even more. It was unbelievable! The friendshipping and fellowshipping just wouldn’t stop. The only thing left was to share and teach the gospel to everyone. They bore testimony of the influence of the gospel of love in their lives. They told about Christ and his miracles of love. They asked the Golden Questions. They loaned the Book of Mormon. They brought friends to church. They took them to baptismal services. They invited the missionaries into their homes for group discussions. They became missionaries all day long and were examples of unselfish love in action.
You know what happened? The people were full of love; the city was full of love; the bank was full of love. They had discovered the secret!
I have it from a good source—the bank and the banker really did exist. But I have searched all over the world and can’t find them anywhere, so they must have gone where Enoch and his city went.

“When I got married,” says Consolacion Pilobello of Pasay City, Philippines, “I didn’t know how to cook, and I was too superstitious to go to a doctor and get prenatal care. Our first baby died.”
She begins to cry. “If only I had been a member of the Church then, we could have saved that baby!”
After baptism, she learned in Relief Society about water purification, sanitation, nutrition, first aid, and immunizations. “I learned how to take care of my children, myself, and my family,” she says. Her next seven babies were healthy. She is now ward homemaking leader—teaching what she has learned. (See Tambuli, September 1991, pages 11–12.)

Windows teach lessons never to be forgotten. Ever shall I remember a visit to the home of President Hugh B. Brown. It was graduation day at Brigham Young University. He was to conduct the exercises, and I was to deliver the commencement address. I drove to President Brown’s home and escorted him to my car. Before we could drive away, however, he said to me, “Wait just a few minutes. My wife, Zina, will come to the front window.”

I glanced at the window, noted that the curtain had parted, and saw Zina Brown sitting in her wheelchair, affectionately waving a small, white handkerchief toward the gaze of her smiling husband. President Brown reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved a white handkerchief, and began to wave it gently, much to the delight of his wife. We then inched away from the curb and commenced the journey to Provo.

“What is the significance of the white-handkerchief waving?” I asked.

He replied, “Zina and I have followed that custom since we were first married. It is somewhat a symbol between us that all will be well throughout the day until we are again together at eventide.”

That day, I witnessed a window to the heart.

The role of bishop holds special significance for Elder Stevenson. “When I was 12, my father was called as bishop,” he recalls. “The ward had many widows, and Dad would often take me along when he ministered to them. He would have me take care of the garbage cans, clean up something in the house, or get my friends to join me in raking leaves or shoveling snow. When we left, I always felt good inside. Visiting the widows helped me realize that part of what bishops do is minister to people one on one. The bishops of the Church are my heroes.”