Gospel Story Finder

Elder Harold B. Lee and Elder Marion G. Romney were always teaching, and they would, in a sense, go out of their way to tell me something or teach me something. I think the reason they did it—I’m not sure they ever saw me in this position or calling—is that I had one virtue: I wanted to learn, and I didn’t resent it. And if you don’t resent it, and if you want to learn, the Lord will keep teaching you, sometimes things you really didn’t think you wanted to know.
Both of those great teachers would teach me. When I would see Brother Romney, sometimes he would say, “Kid, I want to tell you something.” I knew it was coming. He was going to tell me I was doing something that I shouldn’t do, and I would always thank him.
I learned early on that there is great value in listening to experience in older people. I had a stake president once who said, “I always tried to be in the presence of great people.” He was in a little town in Idaho, but he said, “If there was a lecturer coming or something special, I would always try to be there, because I could learn.”
I have always been drawn to associate with older people (now I am one). I remember in the Quorum of the Twelve, LeGrand Richards didn’t walk as fast as the other Brethren, and I would always wait and open the door for him and walk back to the building with him. One day one of the Brethren said, “Oh, you’re so kind to take care of Brother Richards.” And I thought, “You don’t know my selfish motive”—as we would walk back, I would just listen to him. I knew that he could remember Wilford Woodruff, and he would speak. One-on-one teaching is very powerful. Generally one-on-one teaching is what happens when you are corrected.

When I was 12 years old, my father took me hunting in the mountains. We woke up at 3:00 in the morning, saddled our horses, and set out up the forested mountainside in total darkness. As much as I loved hunting with my dad, at that moment I felt a little nervous. I had never been in these mountains before, and I couldn’t see the trail—or much of anything else, for that matter! The only thing I could see was the small flashlight my dad was carrying as it cast a faint light on the pine trees ahead of us. What if my horse slipped and fell—could he even see where he was going? But this thought comforted me: “Dad knows where he’s going. If I follow him, everything will be OK.”
And everything was OK. Eventually the sun came out, and we had a wonderful day together. As we started toward home, my dad pointed to a majestic, sloping peak that stood out among the others. “That’s Windy Ridge,” he said. “That’s where the good hunting is.” Instantly, I knew that I wanted to come back and climb to Windy Ridge someday.
In the years that followed, I would often hear my father talk about Windy Ridge, but we never went back—until one day, 20 years later, I called my dad and said, “Let’s go to Windy.” Once again we saddled our horses and started up the mountainside. I was now an experienced rider in my 30s, yet I was surprised to feel the same nervousness I had felt as a 12-year-old boy. But my dad knew the way, and I followed him.
Finally we made it to the top of Windy. The view was exhilarating, and the overwhelming feeling I had was that I wanted to come back—not for me this time but for my wife and my children. I wanted them to experience what I had experienced.
Over the years, I’ve had many opportunities to lead my sons and other young men to mountaintops, just as my father led me. These experiences have prompted me to ponder what it means to lead—and what it means to follow.

My younger brother is silly, has a great imagination, and cares about others. He is one of my biggest fans when I perform on stage. He also has some special needs. He is very small for his age and struggles with reading, writing, talking, and sometimes understanding others. He is also deaf.
One day at play practice, I walked up the stairs to get to the stage. I heard someone say something mean about kids with disabilities. Everyone started to joke and laugh about it.
I know they didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but I got really sad and ran to find a place to hide. As I was sitting in my hiding spot, a grown-up sat by me and started to talk to me about the play. I started to feel better.
When it was time to go home, I told my mom what happened. She told me that it’s OK to walk away from something that makes me feel bad and that it’s OK to talk to a grown-up about my feelings.
Sometimes people don’t understand how it feels to have special needs or to know someone who has special needs. I want to be an example of love and kindness.

Some people have dogs to love—big ones, silky ones, spotted ones. Some people have cats to love—big ones, furry ones, stripy ones.
Some people have goldfish to love. Some people have canaries. Some people have brothers, or sisters. I didn’t have anybody—no dog, no cat, no goldfish, no canary, no sister, no brother. It was terrible.
Everybody needs somebody—somebody to hide with in the dark when everything’s creepy, somebody whose nose turns red with yours when it’s cold, somebody to slosh through the rain with. It’s pretty lonely without anybody.
“Hello, Jimmy,” I said to myself every morning. “Good night, Jimmy,” I said to myself every night. Nobody ever answered me.
When my teeth chattered and I said, “Brrrr!” nobody ever said, “I’m c-c-cold t-too!”
When I watched a scary show on television and I grew goose bumps, nobody else grew goose bumps with me. Nobody else shivered. Nobody else said, “I—I’m SCARED!”
Then Mommy talked to me one night. She told me I was going to have a baby brother or sister. “Next month,” she said.
“Whoopee!” I said. “That’s what I want.”
I waited a month, a whole month more. Then my baby brother came. He was a little red thing all wrapped up in blue blankets. “Hi,” I said.
He didn’t answer. He screwed up his eyes. He made his fists into little balls.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Waaaa!” he answered. “Waaaa!”
I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t even hear me. I didn’t even hear me.
I made a face at him to make him laugh. He didn’t laugh. He turned purple and cried—again. “Waaaa! WAAAA!”
I didn’t laugh either. He made so much noise that I couldn’t even think.
He smelled funny too.
He couldn’t blow bubble gum. He couldn’t eat ice cream. He didn’t even have much hair, just some fuzz. He couldn’t walk or run or talk.
“Good night,” I whispered to him. He was already asleep.
That night I heard him. It was dark.
“Waaaa!” he yelled. “Aa-aah!”
“Waaaa,” I said. “Waaaa. Waaaa. Waaaa.” Nobody paid any attention. Nobody laughed either.
So I still didn’t have anybody to play with. When I laughed because the grass tickled my elbows, nobody laughed beside me. When I jumped into bed and the springs plunked, nobody plunked beside me.
But after a while …
When I leaned over the crib to tickle my brother’s toes, he smiled at me.
When I helped Mommy hold his bottle, he wrapped his fingers around my finger. I couldn’t get away. I didn’t even try.
When I walked my fingers over his stomach, he kicked his feet because it tickled.
When I blew at the funny, fuzzy hair on top of his head, he waved his hands. He laughed. I laughed too.
And when he cried, Mommy sat him on my knee.
“Waaaa!” he said. “Waaaa!”
Mommy wrapped my arms around him. His tummy felt warm and round. “Don’t cry,” I said. “Please don’t cry.” I joggled him. He couldn’t joggle back. He stopped crying, though, and leaned against me. He pinched the skin on the back of my hands with his fingers. He kicked his heels on my legs.
“Hold him tight,” Mommy said.
I did. I held my baby brother tight. And I wasn’t lonely anymore.

On my mission in Taiwan, my companion and I spent a little time during one preparation day at the National Palace Museum in Taipei. The main attraction is a piece of art called the Jadeite Cabbage. So many people were admiring it, but all I saw was a cabbage carved out of jade. It was pretty, no doubt, but there must have been something I was missing.
When we finished at the museum, I asked my companion, “What did you think of the Jadeite Cabbage?”
“I love that piece of art!”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s just a cabbage.”
“Are you kidding? The Jadeite Cabbage is a metaphor for my life!” she exclaimed.
“The cabbage?”
“Yes! Don’t you know the story?”
“Apparently not.”
She told me the story. And she was right. It became the metaphor for my mission and my life.
For a jade carving to have great value, the jade has to be one solid color. Carvings made out of perfect jade sell for high prices because it is nearly impossible to find perfect jade. The Jadeite Cabbage is green on one end and white on the other, and it has cracks and ripples. No skilled carver would waste time on such a piece of jade, until someone came along whom the Chinese call a master carver.
If this jade could talk, I can imagine the conversation it would have with this new carver. I imagine the carver picking up this piece of jade.
“What do you want?” the jade would ask.
“I am looking for jade to carve,” the carver would say.
“Then find another piece. I am of no worth. I have two different colors so intertwined that you’ll never separate them. I have cracks and ripples in me. I will never be of any worth. Don’t waste your time.”
“Oh, you silly little jade. Trust me. I am a master carver. I will make a masterpiece of you.”
What makes the Jadeite Cabbage so amazing is that this anonymous master carver used the weaknesses of the jade—the two colors, the cracks, and the ripples—to make the cabbage all the more lifelike. The opaque white part became the stem of the cabbage, and the cracks and ripples make the leaves come to life. If it weren’t for the “weaknesses” of this jade, it could not have looked so real.
Because of the beauty of this piece of art, it became a gift for one of the royalties in China and adorned the halls of beautiful Asian palaces until it ended up at the museum in Taiwan.
It reminds me of Ether 12:27: “If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. … My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
After I saw the Jadeite Cabbage, this scripture began to take on new light. We are all like this piece of jade, except that we are still in the process of being carved. We must trust the master carver, Jesus Christ, who will take our weaknesses and make them strengths. We, in our imperfect view, sometimes focus on our imperfections and then despair because we think we’ll never measure up. But our Savior, Jesus Christ, sees us as we can become. As we allow His Atonement to work in our lives, He will shape us into masterpieces who will one day live with the King of kings.

Just a few days ago I visited with President Marion G. Romney, known throughout the Church for his ardent advocacy and knowledge of the welfare program. We spoke of the beautiful passage from Isaiah concerning the true fast:
“Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?” (Isa. 58:7.)
As did President Clark, as did President Lee, President Romney wept as he spoke.
Appearing as a golden thread woven through the tapestry of the welfare program is the truth taught by the Apostle Paul: “The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.” (2 Cor. 3:6.)
President Ezra Taft Benson frequently counsels us: “Remember, Brethren, in this work it is the Spirit that counts.”
What has the Lord said about the spirit of this work? In a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph at Kirtland, Ohio, in June of 1831, He declared: “Remember in all things the poor and the needy, the sick and the afflicted, for he that doeth not these things, the same is not my disciple.” (D&C 52:40.)
In that marvelous message delivered by King Benjamin, as recorded in the Book of Mormon, we read: “For the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God—I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally.” (Mosiah 4:26.)
When we depart from the Lord’s way in caring for the poor, chaos comes. Said John Goodman, president of the National Center for Political Analysis, as reported this year in a Dallas, Texas, newspaper:
“The USA’s welfare system is a disaster. It is creating poverty, not destroying it. It subsidizes divorce, unwed teenage pregnancy, the abandonment of elderly parents by their children, and the wholesale dissolution of the family. The reason? We pay people to be poor. Private charities have always been better at providing relief where it is truly needed.”
In 1982 it was my privilege to serve as a member of President Ronald Reagan’s Task Force on Private Sector Initiatives. Meeting in the White House with prominent leaders assembled from throughout the nation, President Reagan paid tribute to the welfare program of the Church. He observed: “Elder Monson is here representing The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If, during the period of the Great Depression, every church had come forth with a welfare program founded on correct principles as his church did, we would not be in the difficulty in which we find ourselves today.” President Reagan praised self-sufficiency; lauded our storehouse, production, and distribution system; and emphasized family members assisting one another. He urged that in our need we turn not to government but rather to ourselves.
On another occasion in the White House, I was asked to present to a gathering of America’s religious leaders an example of our welfare program in action. I could have chosen many illustrations, but selected as typical our response to the Teton Dam disaster in Idaho. The result was dramatic. As the First Presidency stated fifty years ago, “The eyes of the world are upon us.” While this is a most important consideration, let us particularly remember that the eyes of God are similarly focused. What might He observe?
Are we generous in the payment of our fast offerings? That we should be so was taught by President Spencer W. Kimball, who urged that “instead of the amount saved by our two or more meals of fasting, perhaps much, much more—ten times more [be given] when we are in a position to do it.” (Ensign, Nov. 1977, p. 79.)
Are we prepared for the emergencies of our lives? Are our skills perfected? Do we live providently? Do we have on hand our reserve supply? Are we obedient to the commandments of God? Are we responsive to the teachings of prophets? Are we prepared to give of our substance to the poor, the needy? Are we square with the Lord?
As we look back through fifty years and reflect on the development of the welfare program, as we look forward to the years ahead, let us remember the place of the priesthood, the role of the Relief Society, and the involvement of the individual. Help from heaven will be ours.
On a cold winter’s night in 1951, there was a knock at my door. A German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?” I answered in the affirmative. He began to weep and said, “My brother, his wife, and family are coming here from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with us to see the apartment we have rented for them?”
On the way to the apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for many years. Through the holocaust of World War II, his brother had been faithful to the Church, once serving as a branch president before the war took him to the Russian front.
I observed the apartment. It was cold and dreary. The paint was peeling, the wallpaper soiled, the cupboards empty. A forty-watt bulb, suspended from the living room ceiling, revealed a linoleum floor covering with a large hole in the center. I was heartsick. I thought, “What a dismal welcome for a family which has endured so much.”
My thoughts were interrupted by the brother’s statement, “It isn’t much, but it’s better than they have in Germany.” With that, the key to the apartment was left with me, along with the information that the family would arrive in Salt Lake City in three weeks—just two days before Christmas.
Sleep was slow in coming to me that night. The next morning was Sunday. In our ward welfare committee meeting, one of my counselors said, “Bishop, you look worried. Is something wrong?”
I recounted to those present my experience of the night before, revealing the details of the uninviting apartment. There were a few moments of silence. Then Brother Eardley, the group leader of the high priests, said, “Bishop, did you say that apartment was inadequately lighted and that the kitchen appliances were in need of replacement?” I answered in the affirmative. He continued, “I am an electrical contractor. Would you permit the high priests of this ward to rewire that apartment? I would also like to invite my suppliers to contribute a new stove and a new refrigerator. Do I have your permission?”
I answered with a glad “Certainly.”
Then Brother Balmforth, the seventies president, responded, “Bishop, as you know, I’m in the carpet business. I would like to invite my suppliers to contribute some carpet, and the seventies can easily lay it and eliminate that worn linoleum.”
Then Brother Bowden, the president of the elders quorum, spoke up. He was a painting contractor. He said, “I’ll furnish the paint. May the elders paint and wallpaper that apartment?”
Sister Miller, the Relief Society president, was next to speak. “We in the Relief Society cannot stand the thought of empty cupboards. May we fill them?”
The three weeks which followed are ever to be remembered. It seemed that the entire ward joined in the project. The days passed, and at the appointed time, the family arrived from Germany. Again at my door stood the brother from Ogden. With an emotion-filled voice, he introduced to me his brother, his brother’s wife, and their family. Then he asked, “Could we go visit the apartment?” As we walked up the staircase leading to the apartment, he repeated, “It isn’t much, but it’s more than they have had in Germany.” Little did he know what a transformation had taken place and that many who had participated were inside waiting for our arrival.
The door opened to reveal a newness of life. We were greeted by the aroma of freshly painted woodwork and newly papered walls. Gone was the forty-watt bulb, along with the worn linoleum it had illuminated. We stepped on carpet deep and beautiful. A walk to the kitchen presented to our view a new stove and new refrigerator. The cupboard doors were still open; however, they now revealed every shelf filled with food. As usual, the Relief Society had done its work.
In the living room, we began to sing Christmas hymns. We sang “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm, all is bright.” (Hymns, 1985, no. 204.) We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion, the father, realizing that all of this was his, took me by the hand to express his thanks. His emotion was too great. He buried his head in my shoulder and repeated the words, “Mein Bruder, mein Bruder, mein Bruder.”
It was time to leave. As we walked down the stairs and out into the night air, snow was falling. Not a word was spoken. Finally, a young girl asked, “Bishop, I feel better than I have ever felt before. Can you tell me why?”
I responded with the words of the Master: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.) Suddenly there came to mind the words from “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
(Hymns, 1985, no. 208.)
Silently, wondrously, His gift had been given. Lives were blessed, needs were met, hearts were touched, and souls were saved. A provident plan had been followed. A precious promise had been fulfilled.
I testify that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, that we are led by a prophet, that sacrifice does indeed bring forth the blessings of heaven. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

David Evans, a Valiant 10 in our Primary, bravely stood as a witness for Jesus Christ and the Church as the prophet Alma said we should. David had been invited to a birthday party for a friend from school. When he got there, he was asked by his friend’s older and bigger cousins if he was a Mormon. It turned out that David was the only Latter-day Saint at the party. The cousins started to harass him. At first it was just verbal, but then they started shoving him around and kicking him. The adults at the party did nothing to stop them. David said a silent prayer. He felt he should confront his tormenters. So he told them they could try to beat him up if they wanted, but they couldn’t trash the Church of Jesus Christ. With that, the bullies quit and left him alone for the rest of the party.

James Peter Fugal was an honest man! He herded sheep much of his life in the rolling hills of Idaho. On one bitterly cold winter night, he was herding sheep for another man when a blizzard set in. The sheep bunched together, as sheep do, in the corner of a fenced area, and many died.
Though the death of the sheep was no fault of his, James Fugal felt responsible and spent the next several years working and saving to repay the owner for his lost sheep.
This same desire to live Christian principles was evident in Aurelia Spencer Rogers, who founded the Primary organization of the Church. She had a concern for the moral character and social development of children. Leaders of the Primary since Aurelia Spencer Rogers continue to teach wholesomeness, virtue, and love for one another as well as to instill a desire to understand and live by traditional values.
Sister Haight and I attended a sacrament meeting some distance from our home. We found, to our delight, that the Primary would present the program, the theme being “We Believe in Being Honest.”
I marveled at the eagerness of these young children as they spoke about the fundamental principles they were learning of telling the truth, respecting the property of others, being trustworthy, and standing for the right.
I thought of James Fugal, the humble sheepherder, and how wonderful it was that these children were being taught the same values that made him a man of such noble character.

Then, the summer before his senior season, the time suddenly came for Eli to make a decision. That summer USA Today published an article that ranked the top professional prospects among college football players. To his surprise, Eli found his name on the list. It dawned on him how much money he could be making playing football the next year, and he knew he had to make a decision.
It was not an easy one. Eli knew that something he had often dreamed of since elementary school was within reach. He considered all the things that he could do with the money he would make as a professional football player: he could put his children through school and pay for their missions; he could have a retirement fund; he could go on as many missions with his wife as he wanted; he could teach and coach and not have any financial worries. He would be set.
On one hand there were good people who were active in the Church and who did a lot of good for the Church who played professional sports on Sunday. On the other hand, Eli had seen some very powerful examples of people who had refused to break the Sabbath.
One was Erroll Bennett, one of the top soccer players in Tahiti, whom Eli read about one day on his mission. When Brother Bennett joined the Church, he decided to withdraw from his team because he chose not to play on the Sabbath. When Eli read the story and saw how dedicated Brother Bennett was to the gospel, he was impressed. He says, “I knew I wanted to be a man like that, with that kind of commitment and dedication to what I knew was right.”
Eli discussed his choices with the people most important to him. His mother always reminded him of the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. His father, who had worked hard trying to support his family, told him to consider the decision carefully, reminding Eli how the money would help him support his wife and children. His wife, Jennifer, had received a paper in school full of quotations from leaders of the Church about the Sabbath day. Together they studied those and talked about the decision, but Jennifer and Eli’s parents all said that the decision was his and they would support him however he decided.
Eli talked to many other people. Some told him to play; some said maybe he shouldn’t. But Eli knew that talking to others wouldn’t make the decision for him. “When you’re considering giving up hundreds of thousands or millions of dollars,” he says, “it’s probably not something you’re going to do just because you’ve talked to someone.”
He knew that he would have to make the decision himself after praying to his Heavenly Father. Eli recalls: “It occurred to me to pray and fast about it because of what my parents taught me. … During the rest of the summer and through the next football season, all my scripture study and all my prayers and everything were focused on what the best decision would be. This lasted about six months. I didn’t make the final decision until the season was over at the end of December.”
That was an intense six months. Eli says: “I don’t think in my life other than sometimes on my mission I ever had the scriptures come to life for me as they did during that period of time. … I saw things I had never seen or understood before.”
One day, for example, he was reading in the Book of Mormon about Alma counseling his son Helaman. Alma urges his son: “O remember, remember, my son Helaman, how strict are the commandments of God. And he said: If ye will keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land—but if ye keep not his commandments ye shall be cut off from his presence. … Therefore I command you, my son Helaman, that ye be diligent … in keeping the commandments of God as they are written” (Alma 37:13, 20).
The phrase “as they are written” particularly struck Eli. He knew the key to being in the Lord’s presence and to prospering was to keep the commandments “as they are written”—with exactness. Eli understood that to have financial security and other blessings for his family, “it was a more sure thing to keep the commandments and trust in the Lord than to have a million dollars.”
As the months progressed toward the end of the season, Eli became more sure of what he had to do. “I read my scriptures, and time after time I would see more and more and more reasons that I felt in my heart that I needed to observe the Sabbath more than I needed to play football,” Eli says.
When he finally made the decision, it was easy. He laughs now about all the attention he received: “I had been on the offensive line my whole career, and it’s not like a lineman gets a lot of recognition. I got so much more recognition for making that decision than I ever got for playing football. People wrote me, telling me what they thought about the decision I had made, good or bad. I never got so much mail in my life.”
Some people asked whether he had considered all the factors, and some asked if he had thought of all the money he could make. Eli laughs, “One of the most interesting things to me was that people would say, Haven’t you thought of this and this, when I had been thinking about it for ten years and had considered those things maybe a million and a half times.” The letters were entertaining, but they didn’t change his mind or cause him to reconsider. He had been very careful in making his decision, and once he made it he was firm.
Now Eli is doing what he has wanted to do for a long time—he is teaching and coaching in a local high school. Teachers aren’t famous for their high salaries, and sometimes the money is a little short. But Eli smiles about it: “The paychecks now, in spite of being low, are more than we were making when we were students. We’re happy to have more than we had before. Occasionally I think we could have a brand-new car or a nice house, but I have never had any serious doubts about the decision.”
He gathers his family around the room as he talks about the decision that has made such a difference in their lives. His daughter Hannah plays on the floor while his wife, Jennifer, holds the baby, Sarah. They don’t have the new house, car, and retirement fund, but they’re happy. Eli has come a long way from the boy who sometimes sneaked in to watch football on Sundays. Now he is a father who, like his own father and like Alma long ago, is determined to teach his children the commandments “as they are written” and to help them be covenant people of the Lord.

“We were playing with a Ouija board in school one day,” said JoAnn, a Laurel in Southern California. “We kept asking questions and the board kept answering correctly. I became increasingly frightened and eventually so scared that I fled from the room. I couldn’t sleep for days. I kept waking up with nightmares. It was a horrible experience. We are told to seek for the positive in life,” she continued, “but the negative is just as powerful. By forcing all your attention and your thoughts on an object, using ritual to make the image emotional, you can easily surrender your consciousness to evil powers.”

In high school I had many opportunities to drink and smoke and do a lot of other unwholesome things. It just didn’t make sense to me to participate. In fact, it seemed destructive. So I got very good at saying, “No thanks.” Sometimes I would even challenge my friends to give it up. Also, I could see the misery that immorality caused, and I wanted no part of it. I made a personal commitment to save sexual intimacy for marriage. It seemed the only right way. At times I felt pretty alone, but I held on to my personal beliefs.
My family was not religious, so I didn’t belong to a church. It was through evangelists on television that I first learned about prayer. It made sense to pray, so I did and it felt good to be able to talk to my Heavenly Father. I felt I had a friend I could talk to who understood how I felt.

I count it as a great blessing that I was able to serve a mission in Italy at a time when the Church was very young there. Our branches met in rented halls, and we hoped that someday stakes and wards might exist there. I watched brave pioneers come into the Church and lay the foundation for the gathering of Israel in that great land.

One of these was Agnese Galdiolo. We all felt the Spirit powerfully as she was taught the missionary lessons. But, even feeling that Spirit, she knew that her family would be strongly opposed to her being baptized. At a certain point, however, filled with the Spirit, she agreed to be baptized. But she changed her mind the morning of her scheduled baptism. She came early to the rented hall where she was to be baptized to tell us that because of family pressure, she could not do it.

Before leaving, she agreed that we could talk for a few minutes. We went to a classroom where we suggested that we pray together. After we had knelt, we asked her to say the prayer. After the prayer she stood up in tears and said, “All right, I will be baptized.” And a few minutes later she was. The next year she married Sebastiano Caruso, and they raised four children, all of whom served missions and have continued since to serve in the Church.

Elder and Sister Curtis with some members of the Caruso family

Agnese and Sebastiano also served a mission, with Sebastiano as mission president. When I served a second mission in Italy, 25 years after the first, I was able to see what the Carusos and other pioneers had done to expand the kingdom of God there. My missionaries and I worked to build the Church, dreaming that someday a temple might be built in Italy. Imagine my joy in the fact that we now have the Rome Italy Temple.

May I close with just one other experience. Let me tell you of one elderly brother who sat in a nursing home just looking at the floor day after day, week after week. Someone who loved him and knew about Deseret Industries arranged for him to come to work. He began by the supervisor placing a wide push broom in his hands, taking him to the end of a corridor, and having him push the broom down the hall to the other end; then turning him around and having him push it back again. This he did time after time.
In the process of doing, he started to get a small glimmer of interest in something—in anything—and his eyes raised from the floor. He saw the walls, and he saw the windows. As this process continued, the development of a feeling that everyone needs was nurtured. It wasn’t long until other assignments were given to him which he did very well. In time his faith in himself and his feeling of worth had been restored. He became a supervisor of others.

When I was 17 years old, I faced heavy peer pressure at my high school. The friends that I did have didn’t share my values. My friends and I participated in many appropriate activities together like playing basketball or football. But they also drank alcohol and smoked—two activities I didn’t do with them.
One day a group of us was outside of our school studying for a test we would take later that day. With me were two of my closest friends, Juan and Francisco (names have been changed). At one point, someone got out lighters and cigarettes. I thought my friends had gotten bored with studying and had forgotten I was there. I learned I was wrong when they turned to me and said, “Now is the time for Hugo to learn how to smoke.”
Before I even had the chance to react, Juan and Francisco leapt toward me and took me by the arms, one on each side. They held my arms down as someone pressed a cigarette between my lips. My body immediately rejected this, and I spit the cigarette on the ground, far from me. Soon after, I felt the blow of a clenched fist squarely connect with my cheekbone. They threatened me, saying, “We’re going to light the cigarette again, and you’re going to learn to take the smoke. Don’t throw it on the ground. If you do, it’s not going to go well.”
In that moment, I knew I was in trouble. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer asking for some type of help. As soon as I finished my prayer, our teacher’s car pulled up and parked near us. Our teacher got out of the car and asked us what we were doing. My friends released me. “We’re getting ready for the test,” they assured the teacher. We went into the school and took the test, and the situation ended.
In spite of how hard that experience was, I forgave my friends for what they did. I knew they didn’t understand my standards and my decision to live the Word of Wisdom, so I forgave them and chose not to have any bad feelings toward them. When we finished school,
I left on my mission but continued to communicate with Juan and Francisco.
I wrote them frequent letters sharing with them the gospel and my testimony of Jesus Christ. I invited them to repent and to attend church. To my great surprise, one of them actually went.
I had frequently invited my friends to Sunday meetings before, but none had accepted until now. Although I couldn’t attend with Juan, my brothers and my father were there to help him and fellowship him. My family accepted him, and Juan felt very comfortable at church.
He started changing little by little until he made the decision to get baptized. I was thrilled for him and even more thrilled when he told me he had learned to love Jesus Christ because of my letters. When I came home from my mission, I also stayed close with Francisco, and after some time, he and his wife also got baptized. Today, Juan and Francisco are still two of my closest friends.
These events marked my life. I learned that the best way to influence lives is to live righteously, love others, and reach out. The For the Strength of Youth booklet says, “To have good friends, be a good friend. Show genuine interest in others; smile and let them know you care about them.”1 This is what the Lord helped me do with Juan and Francisco. Because of it, I have the two greatest friends I’ve ever known, and now we’re working together to support the kingdom of God as members of the Church.
Always uphold the standards of the Church, even if you’re in a very difficult situation like I was. For the Strength of Youth instructs, “As you seek to be a friend to others, do not compromise your standards. If your friends urge you to do things that are wrong, be the one to stand for the right.”2 Even if it seems like everyone else is doing what’s contrary to the commandments, stay strong, because your example is powerful. Be the type of example that your friends can think of during their times of need. In some cases like mine, your friendship might be the thing that helps them learn, repent, and be converted.

Quite recently I was privileged to observe this process in the life of a brother named Stan, who had been less active for some 45 years. He had lived a good life and supported both his wife and son in their activity as faithful members in the Church. Yet for personal reasons he chose to remain outside the fellowship of the Church. Even so, each month he welcomed the home teachers.
During February 2006, Stan received new home teachers. Their first visit was pleasant enough, although Stan showed no real interest in the gospel or in any matters remotely associated with spiritual things. Their next visit did little to alter their initial observations, even though Stan was a little warmer and friendlier. On their third visit, however, there was a visible change in Stan’s countenance and demeanor. To their utmost surprise and even before they were able to present their message, Stan interrupted them with a number of thoughtful questions. In the ensuing discussion he also recounted his experiences during the past month, in which he and his wife had commenced reading one chapter a day from the Book of Mormon.
Elder Bruce R. McConkie eloquently described the type of reawakening Stan experienced: “Here is a man who gains a copy of this blessed book, begins to read it, and continues … until, having read it all, his famished soul is filled with the bread of life. He cannot lay it aside or ignore its teachings. It is as though the waters of life are flowing into the barren deserts of his soul, quenching the arid, empty feeling that theretofore separated him from his God.”
The home teachers were reminded of the remarkable power of the Book of Mormon and how very real the influence of the Spirit of the Lord is when we turn to its sacred pages. They also more fully understood the Prophet Joseph Smith’s declaration “that the Book of Mormon [is] the most correct of any book on earth, … and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”
Stan’s thirst for learning and rediscovery of the restored gospel soon expanded his reading beyond one chapter a day, accompanied by deep soul-searching and fervent prayer. To those who sometimes are concerned whether the Lord will actually hear their prayers, the Savior reminds us:
“If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a stone? or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? …
“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give good gifts, through the Holy Spirit, to them that ask him?”
Our beloved prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, also counseled: “You can’t do it alone. … You need the help of the Lord … and the marvelous thing is that you have the opportunity to pray, with the expectation that your prayers will be heard and answered. … He stands ready to help.”
During August of 2006, Stan ventured alongside his ever-faithful wife into his ward sacrament meeting—his first in 45 years. There, with a humble and prayerful heart, he listened to the simple sacramental prayers offered by the youthful priests. Feeling unworthy and sensing something of the depth and the meaning of this most holy ordinance, he reflected deeply and painfully without partaking of the bread or the water for a number of weeks.
President Joseph Fielding Smith, in a tender testimony many years ago, said: “In my judgment the sacrament meeting is the most sacred, the most holy, of all the meetings of the Church. When I reflect upon the gathering of the Savior and his apostles on that memorable night when he introduced the sacrament … my heart is filled with wonderment and my feelings are touched. I consider that gathering one of the most solemn and wonderful since the beginning of time.”
Stan continued studying, praying, attending church, and receiving appropriate counsel and encouragement from his home teachers. Then the day arrived when, joyfully, he felt he was ready to put forth his hand to partake of the precious sacrament. When we partake worthily, thoughtfully, and reverently of the holy sacrament, we are enabled to become “partakers of the divine nature” because of the Atonement of Christ and the power of the Holy Ghost.
As Stan returned to activity in the Church, he received a calling and, some months later, was ordained an elder. In July 2007, Stan and his wife knelt across the altar in a house of the Lord and, by the authority and eternal law of God, were married for time and for all eternity.
Brothers and sisters, may we discover anew the divine power of daily prayer and the convincing influence of the Book of Mormon and the holy scriptures. On Sundays, when partaking of the sacrament, may we do so in the spirit of true devotion to Him who is the giver of all things.
In the wake of our best and very limited efforts and because of the Lord’s infinite goodness, “great things [are] brought to pass” by the “small and simple things.”
Finally, as to these sacred things, may I add my personal witness and assurance in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

As he grew older, however, Hal discovered a major difference between himself and his father.
Henry Eyring encouraged his sons to study physics and to prepare for a career in the sciences. Hal dutifully majored in physics at the University of Utah, but one day when he asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem, it became apparent to Henry that Hal did not share his passion.
“My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” President Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working at this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’ ”
Hal said he had not. He then admitted to his father that physics was not something he constantly thought about. His father paused a moment and then, in tender words that released his son to pursue his own professional passion, he said, “You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.”

“I saw the funniest show yesterday. You should check it out. Then maybe we could watch it together sometime!” Brooke said.
Camille loved chatting with her best friend while they walked home from school together. She loved how much they had in common.
“Sounds great!” Camille waved goodbye and walked in her front door.
After Camille finished her homework, she turned on the TV and found the right show. It would be so fun to talk about it with Brooke tomorrow!
The show was funny. The characters did silly things and told jokes. Camille laughed a lot. But not everything they said was funny. They said some words that made Camille feel like there were frogs hopping in her stomach. They weren’t good words.
What should I do? she wondered. Camille knew these words were not nice. But she wanted to know how the show ended. What would she say if Brooke asked her about it tomorrow?
With a sigh, Camille turned off the TV.
After Mom got home, Camille helped her set the table for dinner. “How was school?” Mom asked.
Camille put out the forks and spoons. “It was really good! Except … Brooke told me about a show to watch. I started watching it, but it had bad words in it. I didn’t feel good about it, so I turned it off.”
“It sounds like you made a very good choice.”
“But Brooke wants to watch it together. We’re best friends! We like the same music, the same ice cream, the same books …”
Mom set a dish of pasta on the table. “True, but that doesn’t mean you have to do all of the same things. Especially if it’s something you don’t feel good about. It’s OK to make different choices than a friend does.”
“What do you mean?” Camille asked.
“Well, we choose to avoid bad words so that we can feel the Holy Ghost,” Mom explained. “But not everyone has the same standards as we do. That doesn’t make them bad people.”
Camille was still worried about what would happen when Brooke asked her about the show. They talked about everything! What if Brooke thought she was being a baby? Or worse, what if she didn’t want to be friends anymore?
Camille said a prayer before going to sleep. Heavenly Father, please help me talk to Brooke tomorrow. Please help me be brave. Camille climbed into bed and hoped that things would be OK at school.
“Camille!” Brooke yelled across the playground. She ran through the grass to meet Camille. “What’d you think of the show? Wasn’t it funny?”
Camille took a deep breath. “I actually didn’t watch much of it.”
Brooke looked confused. “Why not?”
Camille thought for a second. Should she just say she’d been busy? What was Brooke going to say? “Well … I didn’t watch it because they said words I didn’t like. I didn’t feel good watching it.”
“Oh,” Brooke said quietly. Then she said, “That’s OK. We don’t have to watch it together. We can find a show we both like or do something else together.”
“OK.” Camille smiled. Then the two friends walked to class together, talking and laughing the whole time.
You can choose the right even if others don’t. Heavenly Father will help you be strong.

When Samuel was 21, he went to Harmony, Pennsylvania, where his brother Joseph and Oliver Cowdery were translating the Book of Mormon. On 15 May 1829, just days before Samuel arrived, Joseph and Oliver had received the Aaronic Priesthood from John the Baptist and had baptized each other with that newly conferred authority.

In Harmony, Joseph showed Samuel part of the Book of Mormon that he had translated and “labored to persuade him concerning the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which was now about to be revealed in its fulness.”

Joseph wrote that Samuel wasn’t “very easily persuaded of these things,” so Samuel “retired to the woods, in order that by secret and fervent prayer he might obtain of a merciful God, wisdom to enable him to judge for himself. The result was that he obtained revelation for himself.”2

On 25 May 1829 Samuel was baptized, the third person in this dispensation—following Joseph and Oliver—to receive that ordinance. Later that year Samuel was one of the Eight Witnesses privileged to examine the gold plates. The next spring, on 6 April 1830, he was one of the six original members when the Church was formally organized. Others were also working to share the gospel, but in June 1830, Joseph set Samuel apart to be the Church’s first officially called missionary.

At Sunday meetings in the Kirtland Temple, many people were criticizing the Prophet when he wasn’t there. Although a visitor and a new member, John Taylor asked for permission to speak at the meeting.
May I say a few words, Brother?
John was given permission to speak, and he bore testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
If the spirit which the Prophet is showing us does not bring blessings, I am very much afraid that the spirit shown by those who have spoken against him will not be very likely to bring them.

Sheets of postage stamps wait to be affixed to a pile of envelopes. But Rebecca is only one person. A Laurel in the Allerød Ward, Copenhagen Denmark Stake, Rebecca has a few thoughts about pornography and its damaging influence, and she’s doing something about it. But the work—stuffing envelopes with antipornography literature—is tedious and time consuming.
As she addresses the envelopes, she talks of her involvement with a program organized to protest pornography in Denmark.
“Pornography has such a large effect on our values, but Denmark is quite a liberal country and I can see that people almost get used to the pornography. But instead of getting used to it, we should be startled by it,” Rebecca says.
At Rebecca’s school, a fellow student started a protest against pornography and enlisted Rebecca’s help. These students gathered signatures for a petition they hope will gain them a voice with the government—especially with Denmark’s minister of culture, who oversees public television in the country.
“We can’t stop people from looking at pornography,” Rebecca explains, “but we would like to see pornography removed from public places where children can easily see it. You can’t just put children to bed early and expect them not to see those things on television.”
As she thinks about the Young Women values and considers what she represents as a member of the Church, Rebecca is glad to be involved in something she hopes will effect a change.
“You have to make a statement in your life. I think it’s important for us, especially as members of the Church, to do something to make the world a better place,” she says. “That thought has always been important to me, but a couple of months ago when I received my patriarchal blessing, I realized even more that I had to do something.”
When Rebecca’s group completed the project and sent the petition to the government, she allowed herself to think about the small part she played in getting more than 22,000 people to sign the petition and how the project strengthened her resolve to make Denmark a better place. She also smiles. Her group easily exceeded their goal of 15,000 signatures.
Rebecca knows things are not going to change overnight. But you have to start somewhere, right? “I think a lot of people out there hate pornography and its effects,” she says. “But many people are not willing to do or say anything. Sometimes I think people just need a little reminder once in a while.”