Gospel Story Finder

“Diane, it’s time to pick up your toys,” called Mother. “Tomorrow is Sunday, and I want your room to be as neat and clean as the rest of the house.” Diane sighed and sat in the middle of her cluttered room to start doing what Mother had asked. She wondered why it was more fun to get the toys and books out to play with than to put them away. After putting three books back on the shelf, Diane picked up two little cars and was soon playing with them. She stacked up the wood blocks to create a big garage. How much fun she was having when Mother appeared in the doorway!
“Diane! You haven’t picked up a single toy in all this time.”
“But look at the neat garage I just built, Mom,” she said, pointing to her project.
“Every Saturday we have this problem of you not putting your toys away. You either disappear when the job must be done, or you start playing with them.”
Diane looked at the floor and said, “I wish that they’d just disappear for Sunday and come back the next day.”
“I think that that’s a good idea,” Mother said thoughtfully. “The disappear part, anyway,” she added. “If there are any toys or books that haven’t been picked up by the time I come back to vacuum your room, they will disappear into my safekeeping. But they won’t come back on Monday! If I have to pick them up, I will keep them.”
Diane thought about this and decided to pick up several of her favorite books and toys. A big beach ball, a stuffed dog, other small toys, and the rest of her dolls, cars, and books, were left on the floor.
Mother returned later and sent Diane outside to play while she cleaned. When Diane returned, the room looked neat and clean. All the toys and books on the floor had disappeared.
Diane didn’t think about the vanished toys until Timmy, the boy next door, came on Tuesday and they wanted to play with the beach ball and Diane couldn’t find it. They had to play with some of her blocks, instead.
On Saturday Diane left more toys on the floor, and they disappeared. The next week she really missed her favorite boat when Timmy came over to play in the wading pool with his. Diane’s had disappeared with other toys that she hadn’t put away. With big tears rolling down her cheeks, she turned to her mother. “Mom,” she cried, “I want my boat back. Can’t I have it?”
“I warned you that if you didn’t take better care of your toys, they would vanish,” Mom said gently as she lifted Diane onto her lap and comforted her.
“But I want them, Mom. Please may I have them back? I’ll take care of them and put them away. Honest.”
Mother kissed Diane’s cheek and thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Every Saturday when you’ve cleaned up your room, you may choose one of the hidden toys. That way you can earn them back, and maybe you will take better care of them. If you think that that will work, I’ll let you have your little boat now.”
Diane smiled and nodded.
On Saturday Diane couldn’t wait to get her toys put away so that she could choose one of the toys that had disappeared. And each week when she picked one out, it seemed like an old friend coming back to her.

When I served as a member of the Europe Area Presidency, I was in Ireland for a mission tour and district conference. At that conference President John O‘Farrell, the first counselor in the Ireland Dublin Mission presidency, spoke and asked a most interesting question:
“Where would I be without the Church?”
He asked the congregation, “Where would you be without the gospel in your life?” He proposed that, “Here in Ireland, without the gospel we would likely be down at the local bar, drinking beer, and telling inappropriate stories.”
Each of us might well ask that question: “Where would I be without the Church?”
What a blessing it is to have the gospel in our lives and to enjoy its saving power.
My dear young friends, may I share with you from the experience of others and from personal testimony my conviction that the gospel has a dramatic power to change lives. The scriptures are full of stories of men and women whose lives were changed by its influence.
Think of Matthew, a despised tax collector who followed the Savior. Where would he have been had he not met the Master and had continued to seek earthly rather than heavenly wealth? (See Matt. 9:9.)
Think of Saul, the tent maker of Tarsus, and his dramatic confrontation with God on that fateful day near Damascus. He held the coats of those who martyred Stephen, and he went “breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1). Where would Saul have been—what would he have become—had not the Lord taken charge and turned anger and hatred into desire and dedication?
Peter and Andrew, James and John heeded the call to leave their nets and become “fishers of men” (see Matt. 4:18–22). It wasn’t easy for these men, it wasn’t convenient—it seldom is, in purely worldly terms—but the Savior’s call was answered, and they were never the same again.
But what of today? Are there still such stories? Definitely, yes!
Let me take you to Huddlesfield, England, for a personal testimony of a sweet sister named Mina Kreslins. She was born in Amsterdam, Holland, into the Jewish faith. She had lost her parents and brothers and sisters during the wartime occupation of that country.
She tells in the testimony of her conversion, “I was bitter, and although I prayed, I just could not forgive.”
Then in early October 1983, her daughter Karla came into contact with the missionaries. Karla became interested in the gospel and was converted. She invited her mother, Mina Kreslins, to attend her baptism.
“It was at Karla’s baptism I felt the Spirit. It was so strong. I had never felt anything so beautiful in my whole life. I felt so elated and so wonderful, and I wanted to become part of it.”
The missionaries began teaching Sister Kreslins, and the Spirit bore witness to her of what they said. “When they told me about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, the Spirit was so strong, from my head to my feet. I knew then, with all my heart, that the Church was true and that I had to be part of it.”
“My baptism was beautiful. No words can describe the feeling I had as I came out of the water. I felt so clean—almost holy. When I received the Holy Ghost, I felt wonderful. I wanted to shout for joy. Finally, there was rest and relief from the horrors and the hating of those war-torn years.
“Now, since I have become a member of this beautiful Church, I have forgiven and I have no bitterness in my heart.”
Where would Mina Kreslins be today without the gospel?
I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that helped me to say no to my Navy friends when our first leave came while I was in training camp in early 1944. My naval colleagues invited me to share in their worldly activities; to prove that I was a “man” by getting a tattoo, and then going after drink and women.
I was the only Latter-day Saint in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I left them to go by myself to the servicemen’s recreation center and then to a movie. The following day I found Church services and Church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in world War II still living a virtuous life has held eternal rewards for me.
The power of Satan is increasing. You see it all about you in books, in magazines, in movies, and on television. You can resist that evil only by putting on the whole armor of God (see Eph. 6:13–17). Put on God’s spiritual armor, for it will protect all who wear it against the deadly weapons of evil and wickedness.
Without the gospel, we would not have available to us the whole armor of God, which is a shield of faith and truly a breastplate of righteousness.
You, in your youth, can have the blessings that come with living a righteous life. You don’t have to wait until you are an old man or an old woman. There is much you can do to build the kingdom—much, indeed, that a priest or a Laurel, a teacher or a Mia Maid, or a deacon or a Beehive can do. Remember that it was through a fifteen-year-old Joseph Smith that the gospel light was given back to the world.
Only Satan would have you underestimate your worth; those who truly follow God know well the worth of souls (see D&C 18:10).
Let us learn our lessons well so that we might be profitable servants. Make full use of the educational opportunities the world offers, but support them with the spiritual strength that comes through seminary classes. Seeking then serving, and learning then living is the process.
I testify to you that the gospel can change lives and that we have a loving and caring Heavenly Father who knows each of us and our hopes and desires, our strengths and weaknesses.

When I was a teenager, my family rented a small home in Laie on Loala Street for six weeks during the summer. We spent most of our days on Hukilau Beach, trying to avoid the “blue bubble” jellyfish, riding bicycles around the neighborhood, and drinking gallons of guava nectar. We visited the pineapple fields, hiked to waterfalls, and toured historic sites. This was a summer to remember for a 13-year-old boy! However, while these experiences were fun, I was impacted most by something more meaningful—the loving and welcoming nature of our neighbors.
Even though we were staying in Laie for only a short time, those around us reached out. Families invited us into their homes for dinner. Kids in the neighborhood extended a hand of friendship. We were even asked to participate in the local ward’s annual beach barbecue and talent show. We were accepted, included, and valued.
We felt like we belonged.

George Staples (pictured as an adult)

George Staples left his home and family in England to travel to Utah. When he was 16, he joined a company of Saints in the United States, but as they crossed the plains, George was separated from the group. The company had to keep moving or risk running into warring Sioux Indians. As the story goes, he stayed behind.

George later joined a Sioux tribe and lived as an honorary Sioux for years.

People in the Salt Lake Valley heard about a white boy living as a Sioux. Eventually, a group came looking for him. As the group neared the tribe, George recognized someone. With a wild whoop, he ran to his father. They were thrilled to see each other, but George’s Sioux mother was devastated to lose her adopted son. So, before leaving with his father, George promised to return and visit his Sioux family. He kept his promise.2

As a newly married student at BYU I was called to serve in a BYU ward bishopric. I tried to serve the bishop as best I could, but my wife and I loved to travel to visit with our families on the weekends as much as possible. This meant getting excused from my church responsibilities.

After a few months serving this way, I noticed that while the bishop did politely excuse me, he was disappointed that I would be away again. I asked him if it was all right that we visit our families so often. His reply surprised me: “I would like to visit my family as well, but my calling is to serve here.”

I got the message. I was serving when it didn’t interfere with my plans—when it was convenient. I learned from this good bishop what it really meant to actually serve the Lord. I thought I knew how to serve before this experience, but I was wrong. Visiting my family was certainly important, but I learned I could do both. With some planning I found time to visit my family after I had completed my calling. There will always be some things you have to give up to do justice to a calling, whether it’s in the bishopric or as a home teacher. I’ve decided that we probably have enough time to do all that the Lord expects us to do—including visiting our families—but we probably don’t have enough time to do all the things we would like to do.

Illustration by Brian C. Hailes
The first time the missionaries stopped by my house, only my brother Charles was there. As they discussed the Restoration, my brother felt the Spirit and accepted a copy of the Book of Mormon. Before Charles began reading the book, I saw it and asked him what it was and where he got it. Charles explained everything to me, including how he felt meeting with the missionaries.
I thought it all sounded ridiculous and ordered Charles to return the book. I persuaded my family to support me, and they agreed that the Book of Mormon was unacceptable in our house.
The next time the missionaries came by, Charles was gone. I returned the book and told them to leave. They told me that I would need the book someday. This caused me to drive them away in a rude manner.
Not too long after this, a childhood friend whom I had always admired invited me to a Church activity. I refused. He and another friend kept inviting me to church, and when they offered to pick me up, I eventually agreed. Imagine my surprise when I entered the Church building and saw the same missionaries that I had driven away! I had no idea it was the same Church!
The bishop of the ward befriended me that day, and I started to attend church more often. With a lot of love and support, I eventually started to read the scriptures. Thanks to friends, loving leaders, and the scriptures, I was eventually baptized. Since then, both my brother and I have served missions in our native Africa. Even though we may face the same rejection I dealt to those missionaries that day, I know that if we are faithful and persistent, Heavenly Father will bless our efforts and we will be able to share the gospel.

One of those I would like to mention this morning was President David O. McKay, who came into my life as the first prophet to teach and influence me personally.
I was called to be a stake president in California just before President McKay was sustained in a solemn assembly as the President of the Church and as our prophet. My wife, Ruby, and I drove to Salt Lake to be in attendance at that conference. I felt of that spirit, of that leadership, and of the direction that President McKay gave to the Church at that time. Later on I invited him to come to California to dedicate a Church building that we had just finished. That was in the days when we would raise half the money to buy the land and half the money to pay for a building—not like it is today, but where we felt a real ownership in the Church property and in buildings. President McKay came as a result of my invitation, which surprised me. We met him at the train and were pleased to have him in our home. That gave me a new vision of the magnitude and the breadth and the importance of the mission that we have here upon the earth to fulfill.

As an illustration, I would like to share with you a personal experience where I was taught to recognize and give thanks for the Lord's hand in my life.

My husband and I were married in 1970. He graduated from BYU and ROTC and was commissioned as an officer in the Air Force in 1972. Thus began our career with our first assignment to pilot training in Lubbock, Texas. We moved into what we considered a rather nice duplex home at Reese Air Force Base. Craig absolutely loved flying. He didn't mind getting up at 3:00 am to study and then reporting to the flight-line for a 12 hour workday. We had a great career and future in the Air Force, wonderful friends and neighbors, a great ward, and a beautiful daughter, Jennifer. Craig served as the Elder's Quorum president and I served in our Relief Society presidency. Life was just so good!

In December, 1972, we took time off from pilot training to go home to Idaho and Utah for Christmas. It was on our way back to Lubbock in early January that I noticed Craig was having some problems. It seemed like every time he picked something up with his right hand, it would simply slip right through his fingers. Once, while stopping at a Dairy Queen in Utah, we were on our way out to the car and he dropped the sack of food three times. While attending church in Moab, Utah, he couldn't pick up the sacrament and in Elder's Quorum he struggled with signing his name on the roll. When we got home to Lubbock, I insisted that he go into the doctor to make sure everything was okay. The next week, while at his appointment, Craig called to tell me the doctor wanted him to go to the Air Force neurological center in San Antonio for some tests. The doctor asked if I would want to join him but Craig said probably not because we had a 6-month-old daughter and that would be hard for both of us to go. He was then put on the afternoon flight from Lubbock to San Antonio. The next morning, he called and said to me, "I think you better come down and be with me." You see, while Craig was in the doctor's office, he looked at his own medical file lying on the doctor's desk and it said, in bold red letters "possible brain tumor." Apparently, no one had felt it was necessary to tell him that the doctor was actually looking for a brain tumor.

He asked me to call our families and let them know. The next day, Craig's brother and his wife left SLC, picked up Craig's dad in Moab, Utah and drove straight through to Lubbock. They stopped in Lubbock at our home, had a short nap and we were off to San Antonio. Just prior to their arrival, my home teacher and his wife were on my doorstep wanting to help. I learned that news travels fast throughout a military squad room. They offered to take Jennifer to stay with them for whatever time I needed to be gone. I hated to leave our daughter but I knew I needed to be with my husband. So we packed her bag and she was off to their home. Steve and Donna Jensen became the Lord's hands, serving my family. At this time, Craig and I had been married only 2 1/2 years.

When we arrived in San Antonio, Craig told us that they were going to do a test called a numoinsephlagram the next morning and if they found what they thought they would find, they would immediately do surgery for a brain tumor. This was before the age of MRI's or CAT scans. That night, my father-in-law gave Craig a blessing of health and healing and told him that brain surgery would not be needed. He blessed us with faith to deal with whatever lay ahead of us. He blessed us that the doctors would be guided and that we would trust in their skill.

The next morning, after the procedure, the doctor came out and told us that as they watched the air go through the brain, they were unable to find any tumor. So, for now, there would be no surgery. My father-in-law, brother, and sister-in-law left the next day and went back to Utah. I waited to fly home to Lubbock with Craig a week later. At first, his check-ups were scheduled every three months. Then they went to every six months, then to yearly and finally every 5 years. After the first year, they diagnosed his problem as a cranial disease of undetermined ideology. In other words, they had no idea what had happened. Throughout the years, the tests have always shown scar tissue which means that something happened but they just weren't sure what.

The doctor recommended that we stay in the Air Force for the time being because if we got out, he would be uninsurable. We were also advised not to have any more children because I could be left a widow raising children alone.

After a period of time, Craig was told he couldn't fly again. After much fasting and prayer, we followed the counsel about staying in the Air Force but the spirit told us otherwise about having children.

By virtue of not flying again, we realized that this was a life-changing experience. This was a hard time for us because all Craig had ever wanted to do was fly. He would never again have the thrill of pulling G's and soaring among the clouds. This change would affect all aspects of our military career. We would not be stationed at the same bases, meet the same people or do the same things. We would truly be on a different path.

At the young age of 22, I recognized that living righteously does not guarantee bad things would never happen to me. The Lord tells us, "lean not on thine own understanding." Well, for me, I couldn't lean on my own understanding because I had very little. I had to lean on the Lord's hand to help me bear my burden, guide and direct me, love me, and comfort me. Many hours were spent in fasting and prayer to be able to understand and learn what the Lord would have us do. We ultimately agreed together, that we would go and we would do whatever the Lord wanted us to. We knew from this experience and from our prayers that the Lord had a plan for us. We were committed to be faithful in all things and let the Lord's hand direct our life.

Through our experience, I also learned that I had to become more aware of happenings around me. I knew the Lord had reached into my life and because of His goodness I now had to reach out to those around me and touch their lives. My experience is truly a story about God's hand in our lives. I cannot begin to tell you of all the small miracles that happened to us each and every day. I felt the Lord's hand over and over blessing both of us and our family.

There are a lot of things I’m not good at. For example, I am not a great chef—my idea of gourmet is adding crushed potato chips to my tuna fish. With regard to sewing, I’m top notch as long as I have a stapler or hot-glue gun handy. And when it comes to drawing, well, my stick figures don’t even look like sticks!
But there is one thing I think I’m particularly good at. I can talk.
It’s not that I’m better at enunciating than other people, or that I have superior grammar and diction; I just enjoy making good conversation. My teachers in grade school would always tell my parents, “She’s quite the little chatterbox.” In junior high, the common statement was, “My, isn’t she enthusiastic.” By the time I got to high school, it had delicately evolved to, “Does this girl ever stop talking?”
Then, a few years later, I was serving a mission in North Carolina—the perfect reason for me to use my talent to its fullest extent. The only problem was that I didn’t want to. I discovered that being on a mission was a little scary at first.
When my first senior companion, Sister Hubbard, invited me to teach a discussion, I would reply, “You teach it. I want to watch you first.” When we knocked on doors, she would sweetly remind me when it was my turn to greet them. I would stiffly utter a bland hello and pray that they wouldn’t have any questions to ask me.
This went on for a little while until I woke up one morning with a bad cold and sore throat. When I tried to tell my companion how rotten I felt, I found that I had lost my voice too. At first, it was pretty good. I had the perfect excuse to sit quietly through every appointment, not saying a word. After a few days, though, the novelty began to fade. I couldn’t chat with anyone, use the phone, or sing. Life wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be without a voice. Soon I was more down than ever.
Toward the end of the week, while I was studying the scriptures, I came to Matthew 25 [Matt. 25], where it talks about the parable of the talents. As I read, I slowly realized that I had acted like the slothful servant. Heavenly Father had given me the talent of communication and had provided me with the means to use my talent by calling me to share the gospel. But what did I do? “I was afraid, and went and hid [my] talent in the earth” (Matt. 25:25). My days of silence taught me what it would really be like to lose my talent for good if I didn’t use it.
Well, I’m still on my mission and I’m happy to report that my voice came back, and I’ve decided to use it as much as I possibly can. At every appointment, I try to teach with a grateful heart, thanking the Lord for the opportunity to bear my testimony of Jesus Christ. When it comes to knocking on doors, I greet people with a cheerful grin and a hearty “How y’all doing today?” (That’s southern for hello.) And when I walk through town, no one gets by without a friendly invitation to learn more about the plan of happiness.
I may not be a master chef, a superior seamstress, or a modern Monet, but I am using the talent that I do have to do the very best I can. And I find special meaning in these words from the Doctrine and Covenants: “And thou must open thy mouth at all times, declaring my gospel with the sound of rejoicing” (D&C 128:16).

May I begin with an incident from our history which, when I first read it, inflamed me and changed my life. In the 1830s there was a student at Oberlin College whose name was Lorenzo Snow. He was disillusioned with what he saw of religion in general and Christianity in particular. He wrote a letter to his sister who had become a Latter-day Saint, Eliza R. Snow, and confessed his difficulties. She wrote back and invited him to Kirtland. He came. Within a few moments, as I read the story, he was inside the temple, the building which at that time served, as many of you know, more than one purpose. It served all of the fundamental functions of the Church. As he entered, there was a meeting in progress, a small one. Patriarchal blessings were being given by the Prophet’s father, Joseph Smith, Sr. He listened, first incredulous, then open, and toward the end inspired. He kept saying to himself, “Can this be simply a man or is there something divine involved?” He came more and more to feel that the Spirit was in it.
At the end of that, the Prophet’s father took his hand (there had been no introduction as I read it) and, still filled with the light of his calling, said two things to him. “You will become one of us.” Lorenzo Snow understood that but didn’t believe it. But now the blockbuster. “And you will become great—even as great as God is. And you could not wish to become greater.” That, young Lorenzo Snow did not understand. Shortly the first prediction was fulfilled.

Ellie walked into the room she shared with her sister, plopped down on the lower bunk, and started sketching on her notepad. She was in the middle of drawing a majestic mountain scene when Addie walked in. “Get off my bed!” Addie said.
Ellie looked up, startled. “Fine!” She jumped off the bed and stormed out of the room. “I wish I had my own room!”
She headed to the bathroom to finish getting ready for school. “What’s going on?” Mom asked.
“Oh, Addie is just mad because I was sitting on her bed,” Ellie said, handing Mom a hairbrush. “It’s so hard sharing a room with her.”
“I know. I used to feel that way with my sister,” Mom said as she started brushing Ellie’s hair. “Addie seems to be feeling a little grumpy lately.”
“I know! I don’t get it!”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “What do you think we can do to help her feel better?”
Ellie thought for a minute while Mom finished putting rubber bands in her hair. Then she smiled. “I have an idea!”
She ran back to her room and opened her desk drawer. There they were—two tiny turtle charms made of glass. Ellie remembered the story Grandma told her when she gave them to her.
Once there were two turtles. One turtle had somehow gotten flipped over. Try as it might, it couldn’t flip itself back over. The other turtle noticed that something was wrong. Using its nose, it flipped the first turtle over so it could stand on its feet again.
Ellie loved that story. She ran to find her sewing kit and pulled out enough string to make two necklaces. She strung one turtle on each strand and knotted the ends. She put one necklace over her head. She put the other one in a tiny box and ran to find her sister.
“Addie!” Ellie said. “I have something for you!”
“What is it?” Addie asked.
“Here. Open it!”
Addie lifted the lid and carefully pulled the turtle necklace out of the box. She looked at her sister. “Thank you, Ellie!”
“You’re welcome,” Ellie said. “Remember the story about the turtles?” Ellie helped Addie put on the necklace. Addie nodded. “Well, I always want to help you get on your feet again whenever you are sad or mad,” Ellie said. “Oh, and I really do like sharing a room with you. I’m sorry about what I said.”
Addie gave her sister a giant hug. “I love you, Ellie. You can sit on my bed any time you want!”
The girls ran to get their backpacks for school. As Ellie climbed into the car next to her sister, she felt warm inside. Sometimes having a sister could be hard. But most of the time it was just plain wonderful.

In January 1521, Luther was excommunicated from the church, and soon after he was summoned to the city of Worms to meet before an assembly of princes and representatives from the free cities of Germany. At the meeting Luther was given the opportunity to deny that he had written certain books against the church, but Luther refused. He replied, “… I cannot and will not retract anything, since to act against one’s conscience is neither safe nor right. God help me, Amen!”

Luther received safe-conduct from the meeting and for the next twenty-one days. After that he would be considered an outlaw and could be killed on sight. Midway on the trip back to Wittenberg, Luther was “kidnapped” by prearrangement with his friend, Frederick of Saxony, and taken to Wartburg Castle where Luther would be safe.

Disguised as a knight, and wearing a sword and a beard, Luther spent several months in the castle studying, writing letters to friends, and translating the New Testament from Latin into German. He completed the translation of the whole Bible thirteen years later, which allowed the common people to read that sacred book for the first time. More than three centuries later, Joseph Smith said of Luther’s Bible: “I find it to be the most correct that I have found.”

Cindy Shufeldt of Jackson, Wyoming, demonstrates the missionary potential of the New Era in her letter: “The New Era really brightens my day. Just recently I read one through from cover to cover and then lent it to a girl friend. She quickly devoured every word, and then I took it to my place of employment—the Jackson Hole Playhouse Theatre—where it was passed around one evening. One of the guys in the cast adopted it, and I haven’t seen it since! I am an investigator of the Church, and I can’t express in words how much the New Era has helped me in my studies. In fact, you may wish to know that I plan to be baptized.”

I shouted for joy. My whole high school must have heard. Other students stared at me, wondering what had made me shout, but I could not contain my delight when I saw my name on the list of students admitted to the Philippines’ premier university. I truly felt blessed.

When people learned that I would be attending the university, they looked at me in awe. In moments of reflection, I couldn’t help smiling. My future was set. I was very grateful to the Lord for helping me succeed in the qualifying examinations.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. There is so much for me here. Let me continue my studies. After I get my degree, I will go and proclaim Thy gospel.

“I need to continue studying, Father. I need this for my future.

“Thou knowest that I have tried to persuade the department head to grant me a leave of absence for two years. She would not allow it. She told me I had to apply for an honorable dismissal from the university if I choose to go.

“Heavenly Father, I can’t go on a mission right now. I need this for my future.”

My heart was heavy as I approached the office door of the college secretary. He would tell me that I was out of my mind, that I would be sacrificing a promising future. How could I explain to him that the Lord had called me?

“I am here to see the college secretary.”

“It is about applying for an honorable dismissal.”

“No, I am in good academic standing.”

“No, I have not been involved in any criminal offense.”

“The reason? I have received a call from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to serve a full-time proselytizing mission. I need to give up my studies at the university to serve the Lord.”

“No, the mission cannot be postponed, and I will serve for two years.”

“I know that means I cannot return.”

“What? I can apply for a leave of absence? My department head said that I had to leave the university because a leave of absence can be granted for only one year.”

“The university policy was recently changed? She must not have known that, nor did I.”

“Thank you very much.”

After I served in the Philippines Ilagan Mission from 2000 to 2002, I resumed my studies at the University of the Philippines in Quezon City and then transferred to Brigham Young University–Hawaii. I look forward to marrying and raising a family in the gospel.

When their friends or family members play sports, Stephen’s and Richard’s participation is limited. But the two boys don’t see themselves as handicapped. They always give everything their best shot.
For example, when Richard (whose reflexes are better than Stephen’s) got a skateboard, Stephen wanted to ride it too. He didn’t give up until he had learned to balance and roll slowly down the street.
“He’s got real stick-to-itiveness,” Brother Frustaci says. “Neither of them gives up.”

Around this time of trial, my ward, Zimmerman, was split and I received a call to become the bishop of one of the two newly created wards. This was a very challenging moment for me, but I knew that God would provide a way to accomplish this immense task. I could juggle between my new calling, taking care of the three children at home—all of whom were still young—making regular visits to the hospital, and give honest labor to my employer.
From my past interactions with other bishops, it was evident that the calling of being a bishop was considered one of the most challenging callings in the church—feared and loved in equal measure. However, I confidently knew that whom the Lord calls He qualifies and that He would provide a way for me to be a successful bishop as well as fulfill all other responsibilities placed on my shoulders. As Nephi states: “And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He hath commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
Things went on well and our baby, David, was born weighing 1.5 kg (approximately 3.3 pounds). The doctors said he looked good for his age and that he was not in any extreme danger. He was placed in the neonatal intensive care unit and he responded very well to the care given by the doctors and nurses. Like many other times in the past, I saw the hand of the Lord and His choicest blessing in my wife’s and son’s lives. This experience helped me appreciate our great medical technology and the selfless acts of the hospital personnel. David is healthy and thriving now and has been a great addition to our family. He is a source of joy to us all. His siblings Payson, Precious, and Natasha love him dearly. He is a constant reminder of the greatness of God.
Joshua M. Njoroge currently serves as second counselor in the Nairobi Kenya East Stake.

There it was, just lying on the sidewalk! I stopped and stared at it. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” I looked up to see my new friend, Sally, standing beside me. “Look,” I said, “someone’s wallet.”
Sally had just moved to our neighborhood, and I was glad to finally have a member of the Church who was my own age around. “Let’s see if there’s any money in it,” she said, picking it up. “Wow! Have you ever seen so much money in your life!”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There must have been a thousand dollars in it. “See who it belongs to,” I said. But Sally was too busy counting the bills in the wallet to pay any attention to what I said. I tried again. “Stop that—it doesn’t belong to us.”
“It isn’t our fault somebody lost his wallet,” she said. “Besides, haven’t you ever heard of ‘finders, keepers—losers, weepers.’”
“But it isn’t ours,” I repeated.
“Don’t be such a baby!” Sally was getting angry. She made me promise not to tell anyone about the wallet.
“Come on,” she said, “we’re rich! Let’s go buy some candy.”
I didn’t want her to be mad at me, so I went along.
Later that night, when I was in my room, Mom came in. “Are you feeling OK?” she asked. “You hardly ate any supper.”
“Sure,” I mumbled.
“Are you worried about your talk next Sunday?”
I had completely forgotten about my talk. It was supposed to be on how the Holy Ghost can guide us.
After Mom left my room, I tried to work on it, but all I could think about was the wallet and whoever it belonged to.
A few days later my older sister, Beth, said she’d help me work on my talk. “What’s wrong with you, Shortstuff—you’re not paying attention.”
I started to cry. I’d promised not to talk about the wallet, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Sally and I found a wallet with tons and tons of money in it. We spent some, and now I feel just awful!” I blurted out as fast as I could. I felt better just having told her.
“No wonder you’re having so much trouble writing this talk, kiddo.” She smiled.
“Huh?”
“Your talk is on how the Holy Ghost can guide us, and you’re experiencing that firsthand.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it—about what you’re feeling now about the wallet. Where do you think those feelings are coming from?” She looked at me, waiting for an answer.
“You mean it’s the Holy Ghost trying to guide me to do what’s right?”
“You’re a smart kid! Now I think you need to talk to Mom and Dad.”
I went to my dad and told him the whole miserable story. He called Sally’s dad, and they came over. I could tell that Sally was really upset with me. My dad had me replace the money I’d spent. Sally grudgingly promised to repay her dad for the money she had spent. Then my dad called the owner of the wallet, who came over right away. Dad told him the whole story.
The man shook our dads’ hands and smiled at us. “Thank you for returning my wallet,” he said. “I was worried about it. It must have been very hard to find that much money and give it back.”
I looked down at my feet and mumbled, “Yes.”
“Well, I’d like to give you a reward.” He reached into the wallet and took out a twenty-dollar bill.
“We can’t take that,” I said. “We should have returned the wallet to you right away.”
The man nodded, put the money back into his wallet, thanked us again, and left.
Sally wouldn’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. But I was glad that I’d told, even if it meant losing Sally as a friend. I felt good inside knowing that I’d followed the promptings of the Holy Ghost and finally made the right decision.
That Sunday I gave my talk on how the Holy Ghost can guide us, even when we don’t want to listen at first. Sally sat in the front row and smiled at me. I think she was as glad then as I was that we’d returned the wallet.
After church we walked home together and talked a lot. I hoped that we wouldn’t find anything else. But I knew that if we did, the Holy Ghost would guide us to do what we should.

I recently learned about the experiences of a man in Zimbabwe named Sabbath Sibanda Maturure. Born in Shurugwe in what he describes as “an ordinary African hut,” he was the seventh of eleven children. Like three of his sisters, he was crippled from birth. At an early age he blamed God for his handicap and refused to attend the Christian church to which his parents were devoted.
When he was seven, he and his sisters were sent far away from home to attend a school for the disabled. Lonely for his mother, whom he could visit only once a year, he became even more bitter. “Life was terrible,” he remembers. “There was just no hope.”
His bitterness grew when his only two friends—his mother and another handicapped child at the school—died. “There really wasn’t anything left for me—not one ray of hope anywhere. Life was completely without meaning. God was totally unfair and not worthy of my worship or respect.”
But after he was befriended by some Christians who urged him to read the Bible, his heart began to soften. As the years passed, he found work, was married, and had two daughters.
In July 1985 a man who “looked honest, humble, and loving” came to his home and introduced himself as Elder Boyd Lake. Elder and Sister Lake, a missionary couple from Oakley, Utah, had met Sabbath’s wife, Susan, at work, and she had asked them to visit her husband. “Anything that is about Christ makes our lives more sweet,” says Sabbath, “so I welcomed Elder and Sister Lake to our home.” Their message sounded so good that the Maturures invited the Lakes to meet all of their friends at the handicapped center where they worked. And Sabbath and Susan began studying the Book of Mormon.
After several visits from the missionaries, Sabbath became ill. But a priesthood blessing helped to restore his health. He was impressed by the power of the priesthood and the teachings about home evening, fast offering, tithing, and chastity. “I also learned about the eternal family, whereby if we believe and are worthy, we can be married in the temple and be sealed forever as husband and wife and family.”
On 2 August 1986, Sabbath was baptized by the branch president, and Elder Lake baptized Susan and one of their daughters. “What joy we received in our home to be in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—a church that the Lord himself restored!” says Sabbath. Three weeks later, a third daughter, Helen Happiness, was born. (The baby was named in honor of Sister Lake, whose first name is Helen.)
For the Maturure family, Elder and Sister Lake were instruments in the hands of the Lord in working a mighty miracle. How could the Lakes have guessed before they left their home in Utah that they would have such a rich experience in faraway Zimbabwe?

Once while serving as a mission president in Kentucky, I was faced with a direct conflict on family activity and Church activity. The Kentucky Derby was soon to be held, and our family had looked forward to going for weeks. Three days before the big event, the schedule for the Lexington Stake conference was shifted one week forward, and the Saturday leadership meeting was now scheduled for Derby Day. As mission president, I was invited in a midweek phone call from the visiting general authority to be at those sessions.
In the conversation, I told the leader about my previous plan and asked him his opinion. He replied, “Sometimes we just have to choose.” And that is all he said.
What would you have done?
Church work often requires that fathers be away from home. But by setting proper priorities, planning, and delegating, a father can organize himself to be effective in church duties and to be home much more often than he would suppose.
Some fathers who spend undue amounts of time in church callings are proud of these long hours away from home and consider them a sign of dedication. Often it is dedication, but in some cases it is just a way of not going home. Some fathers feel more capable in activities away from home than they do with their families. We should examine ourselves to see if, under the guise of “dedication,” we’ve left to our wives the most important of all causes to which we should be dedicated—our families.
Some feel that if they devote many hours away from family to their church duties, the Lord will compensate by ensuring that all will be well at home. But fathers who are faithful in the Church can and sometimes do have critical problems at home, and one reason may be a lack of father-family experience.
On the other hand, a father who feels successful at home comes out of that home filled with the spirit of love. His heart has been warmed by the home fires of his own family, and he is then able to warm the hearts and souls of his brothers and sisters. A man who devotes sufficient time and energy to family activities and who likewise is dedicated to the Lord and building his Church receives the Spirit of the Lord. It is the Spirit and not endless hours at Church activities away-from-home which brings success in church work.
In my opinion, some Church planning and leadership meetings are far too long. I was once asked by a Church leader, “Are you as a leader punctual in conducting meetings?”
I said, “Yes, I always start meetings on time.”
He said, “But are you punctual?”
I answered again the same way, “We start on time.”
He asked me the same question again, and as I sat looking perplexed he said, “I know that you begin your meetings on time, but do you end them on time?” He added, “End the meeting at the appointed time and let people go home to their families. Those who neglect the appointed quitting time are as much in error as those who neglect the beginning time.”
Sometimes a father will excuse himself for not being home enough by saying, “It isn’t the quantity but the quality of time spent that matters.” There is some truth in this statement for some people, but we must not use it to soothe a conscience that tells us we are too much away from the family.
When I was called to be a mission president, I was fearful that at a most critical time in the lives of my eight children I might not have sufficient time to be a good father. I had determined that being a father was as important a call from the Lord as being a mission president. That meant that even though I would dedicate myself to the mission, I would have to double my dedication as a father.
With that in mind, one of my first important tasks was to tie a big rope to a high limb on the huge ash tree that grew in our front yard and make a swing. With the swing came instant neighborhood friends for our younger children.
A few months after our arrival, we attended a mission presidents’ seminar. Each president was asked what he felt was the best idea he had put into practice so far in his mission. When my turn came, I said, “The best thing I’ve done so far is to build a swing.” Everyone laughed. I described the swing and explained that my major goal was to be a good father and that the swing was my symbol of this priority. The leader sustained my action.
I’ve found that I allow more time for my family if I remind myself that playing with the children is church work. While I was mission president, I would often go to a beautiful amusement park with my family. I would just walk around the park with a smile on my face, holding hands with my children, eating candy.
Once in a while, the thought would enter my mind. “You’re the mission president. You’d better get back to the office.” But then I’d smile again and say to myself, “Well, I’m doing my church work here. I’m with my children and my wife. We’re having a fun day, and tonight I’ll be able to write in my journal that I did six hours of glorious church work today.” I’d eat a little more candy and let the children lead me wherever they wanted to go.
Church work with your family doesn’t mean you leave other church work undone. It merely means that you do both—and you can do both. Some days you can spend a whole day with the children. Other times it will have to be a ten-minute wrestle or one paper airplane constructed after the evening meal.
Some years ago I was serving as a bishop. At the same time I was working on a doctor’s degree at a university and working a full-time job. I was under some strain, fearing that because of my desire to succeed in so many areas I was really failing as a father.
One Sunday evening I stayed late at church to complete some work. As I walked into the chapel to turn off the lights before going home, I suddenly felt lonely. I felt that my back would not bear for another day the heavy burdens I was carrying.
I fell to my knees near the pulpit and cried to the Lord. I poured out the feelings of my soul to him and described in detail my seemingly insurmountable tasks. When I finished I remained kneeling. And then I heard the Spirit speak to me in my heart. The answer it gave me was all I needed. It said just three things: Go forward. Do your best. Love your family.
I arose a new man.
Since then, whenever specific conflicts have come up between my family and church work, I’ve remembered those words and followed the advice given me years ago in Kentucky by a great Church leader—“Sometimes you just have to choose.”
Perhaps the only mistake we really make is when we choose one way over the other all of the time.

When I was 17 I was the ward organist, and many times I would take my date to the church so that I could practice the organ, and she would sit and listen. This may well have been because I didn’t have any money, much more than because of her deep love for music, but we started a relationship in doing that and we found that we both liked music. I played the hymns and they brought a lovely spirit to our times together in a chapel as hymns were played with intermittent talk, perhaps followed by a five-cent ice cream cone when I took her home. Now, any one of you reading this might think these were strange kinds of dates, but the important thing in any generation is to find uplifting things you can enjoy together and do them! There’s nothing more boring—and potentially dangerous—than a date that starts out, “Well, what do you want to do?” Be creative, be enthusiastic, and prepare by thinking about the kinds of things that will help you get to know each other better. Decide well in advance where you are going, what you will do, and what time you will be home.