Gospel Story Finder

During the Great Depression, Sister Louise Kelly, who lived on a farm in the United States, grew strawberry plants. Her family’s income depended on the sale of their crops. During one season, the $40 earned from strawberry sales was the only cash they had seen for a long time. Their $4 in tithing seemed a small sum to offer, and with a family of four children the money was desperately needed. But Louise was determined to pay her tithing. She was not aware of any immediate blessings other than the satisfaction of having obeyed. However, the following year when a strawberry-leaf blight struck the area, only her family’s plants remained healthy. Asked what special care they had given their plants, they simply explained they had tithed their income the previous year. Louise reflected that “at a time when the economy was at low ebb, our blessing of a good crop was to us an irrefutable example of the blessings that come from paying tithing” (“Divine Law of the Tithe,” Ensign, June 1981, 69).

One day Heber J. Grant was playing marbles with some friends when a bookkeeper from the bank walked by.
Friend 1: That man makes a lot of money.
Heber: How much?
Friend 1: As much as you would earn polishing 120 pairs of boots every single day.
Heber knew he wanted to be able to make a living when he was older.
Heber: Someday I’ll be a bookkeeper at the bank too!
Friend 2: You’d better learn how to write. Your writing looks like lightning struck the ink bottle.
Friend 1: It’s worse than hen tracks!
Heber worked on his handwriting until it was beautiful.
To earn money, he wrote greeting cards, wedding cards, and legal documents. He was offered a large amount of money to be a professional penman in the state of California, but he didn’t take the job.
Eventually, Heber reached his goal of working at the bank. He also became a penmanship teacher at a university.

Roger: In my work-related travels, I heard a humble man relate a story about an experience that changed his marriage and how he viewed his wife. In the culture where he lives, like many places in the world, respect and kindness, including expressions of love by a man for his wife, are withheld because women are considered subservient to men. However, while he was attending a priesthood leadership meeting the presiding general authority told the brethren that men who honor the priesthood also honor their wives. He exhorted each of them to be a "good priesthood man" and go home and tell his wife how much he loved her. He wanted to be obedient, but culturally he was conflicted. When he arrived at his house, he looked for his wife. He found her in the kitchen preparing dinner. He was earlier than she had expected and was surprised to see him. She apologized of not having his food ready and started scurrying to avoid offending him. He tried to tell her he loved her, but could not get the words to come. He left her in the kitchen and walked around the house trying to gather his courage. Finally, he went back to the kitchen, called his wife's name and said, "I love you." She was startled and asked him if he were alright. He replied, "Our leaders told us that 'good priesthood men' tell their wives they love them. I want to be a good priesthood man, and I love you!" He said that experience changed the way they thought about each other, how they spoke to each other, and how they treated each other. Humility, obedience, and expressions of love, followed by our actions can change our marriage relationships.

For many years, I have loved the story that President Packer has told about William E. Berrett’s boyhood Sunday School teacher. An elderly Danish brother was called to teach a class of rowdy boys. It didn’t seem like much of a fit. He didn’t speak the language very well; he still had a heavy Danish brogue; he was much older, with big farm hands. Yet he was to teach these young, rambunctious 15-year-olds. For all intents and purposes, it would not have seemed like a very good match. But Brother William E. Berrett used to say—and this is the part President Packer quotes—that this man taught them somehow; that across all those barriers, across all those limitations, this man reached into the hearts of those rowdy 15-year-old kids and changed their lives. And Brother Berrett’s testimony was “We could have warmed our hands by the fire of his faith.”

The all-LDS Orem, Utah, High School a cappella choir was one of a number of outstanding musical groups invited to participate in the Bicentennial Parade of American Music in Washington, D.C., during the nation’s 200th anniversary celebration. While they were on the 12-day tour, the group emphasized its 100 percent Mormon background by bearing testimonies and giving away several hundred copies of the Book of Mormon.

Plans for the trip began several months before as students and their parents worked to gather the $36,000 needed to finance the trip for the 88 singers and their director, Ed Sandgren. They worked six days a week to prepare the numbers they were to present in the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and elsewhere.

Early on a Wednesday morning the students met at the Salt Lake International Airport and boarded their flight for Washington, D.C. That afternoon they were taken to the Annandale Virginia Stake Center where they set up their equipment and had a short rehearsal. After dining with their host families, the members presented their first east coast concert.

Thursday morning they toured the nation’s capital, then gave their concert at the Kennedy Center. The next day they were guests at a performance of an originally written presentation about Joseph Smith’s First Vision given by a non-LDS school. A cappella members said the presentation was fairly accurate. The school’s religion teacher was given a Book of Mormon in appreciation.

The youth had a chance to show their religion in action that afternoon at a special luncheon in the Rayburn House Office Building when every member of the choir turned over their coffee cups. “The waiters made several rounds in the area to fill our cups, but found none to fill,” one student reported. “They had very puzzled expressions on their faces.” The restaurant had to send out for more milk to satisfy the individual demands at the luncheon.

Tours and concerts at Philadelphia, New York City, and in New Jersey were included in the 12-day trip.

Of particular interest to the choir was their concert in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. It was an overcast day, and the room where they sang was gloomy because the main source of light was through several windows near the top of the structure. Then, as the choir began “The Lord’s Prayer,” the sun broke through the clouds and streamed through the windows. No sooner had the group finished than the sun again disappeared behind the thick clouds.

Many times on their tour people asked where they were from. When they answered that they were from Utah, the next question usually was, “Are you part of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?”

The spirit of the group inspired a number of nonmembers, including a clergyman, who after hearing them sing said, “They’ve certainly made my week.”

The missionary spirit was strong in the all-LDS choir. One member gave out 38 copies of the Book of Mormon, another 14. The tour was a chance to proselyte and to rehearse, not only music but for full-time missions planned to begin in the next few years.

One of them was Walt’s girlfriend, Liz. She was an attractive, cheerful Mormon girl whom I used to tease unmercifully. Liz was the perfect lady, and as we got to know each other better, her good influence began to change me. I stopped swearing. And, most important of all, I became interested in the Church.
It wasn’t easy for me, a Catholic, to consider changing my religion, but good friends like Walt and Liz made it easier for me to investigate the Church. Liz encouraged me to seek out the truth and to do what was right. And when I had gained a testimony, she and Walt gave me the strength and courage I needed to go through with my decision to get baptized.

As Paul jogged across the horse pasture toward the barn, he made a mental list of things that he’d need to free the frantic horse: I need some oats. Grandpa said that oats are a great tamer, and if there is anything I need right now, it’s a tamer horse to work on! I need some wire cutters and a halter and lead rope, too—and maybe a flashlight, in case I run out of daylight.
He found everything he needed except the flashlight. The only one he knew about was under the pickup seat, and it was at the hospital. He dropped the wire cutters into the bucket of oats, looped the halter and rope over his shoulder, and jogged back across the pasture.
Wary of getting knocked down again, he carefully offered Ginger a bite of oats. She chewed and reached for more, but he set the bucket out of reach while he put the halter on her and buckled it. Then he offered her another bite before he started cutting wires. Ginger, who must have finally realized that help was at hand, quieted down considerably. Every time she got restless, he gave her another bite of oats. The tangle of wires around her feet was such that he really couldn’t tell which wire to cut, so he had to cut several unnecessarily before he got the strand holding the mass of wire to a half-buried tree stump.
When Ginger felt the tension on her legs ease, she jumped to her feet, shook, and snorted. Then she reared up when she found that she was still tangled. Careful to not get hit by a flying hoof, Paul caught the lead rope and pulled her down. He petted her briefly, gave her a couple bites of oats, and went back to cutting wires. It was so dark by then that he had to work mostly by feel, and he had trouble finding the right places to cut.
Finally the last wire fell away, and Paul pulled the scratchy mass away from her feet. He rubbed a hand down each leg to be sure, left the now-empty bucket to be picked up later, and led Ginger out of the willows and across the dark pasture. She did fine, but he stumbled often in the darkness.
He turned on the barn light and led her under it so that he could examine her injuries. She had some bad cuts, but, he decided, nothing life threatening. Quoting what his father always told him when Paul complained of an injury, he petted the horse softly and consoled her, “It’s a long way from your heart.”
He tied Ginger to a post and went to the house to get some warm water and a rag. While there he read the labels on the containers in the veterinary cabinet until he found one that said it was for “wire cuts and to keep flies off.” Just what he needed!
Ginger let him wash the cuts all right, but pulled free when he tried to spray the medicine on them. With a quick jump, he beat her to the open barn door, closed it, tied her shorter this time, and tried again. She danced around the post, but he finally got all the deeper cuts and scratches covered.
Because the pasture seemed cleaner than the barn, he turned her out when he finished. It was nearly eleven o’clock when he returned to the kitchen, wearily put the bucket and rag into the sink, and dragged himself out to close the chicken coop door.
Too tired to make a sandwich, he drank two glasses of milk and cut a thick piece off the roast to eat. He set the alarm for 6:00 A.M., then fell wearily into bed.

Janet lay in a hollow on the sand dune and watched the surfers swimming off the beach below her. There were only a dozen or so swimmers this afternoon. The gusty Australian westerlies whipped the stinging sand around bare legs and into eyes. Most people waited to go swimming until evening when the wind died down. Tonight the beach would be crowded with people trying to cool off from the hot day.
Janet snapped a ti-tree twig from a bush close by and swiped at the small bush flies clustering around her legs. It isn’t fair, she thought. Other people are able to go to New Zealand. I wish we could.
Her father was the branch president, but his family didn’t have enough money to go to the New Zealand Temple with those who were going there next month to be sealed as families.
“When baby Richard was born, we used the money we had saved for the trip to pay the doctor and hospital,” her mother had explained. “So we won’t be able to go with the group this year.”
Janet slammed the screen door and rushed out to the sand dunes, her favorite place to think.
There is just no place we could get the money for the trip, she decided. She knew Grandfather Turner had money, but he wouldn’t help. He had never forgiven Mother for joining the Church and marrying Daddy.
Janet loved her grandfather, even though she seldom saw him. Maybe I should visit him, she thought, as she wiped her eyes. Maybe he is just a lonely person. Thinking about him now, Janet decided she would like to see him.
After school the next day, she walked slowly up the hill toward Grandfather Turner’s house. She was anxious to see him but she was also a little nervous.
A few minutes later, she stood on the wide veranda knocking on the front door of the big house. No one came. But Bluey, Grandfather’s cattle dog, barked furiously. Janet looked around the side of the house and saw the dog tied up in the shade of the peppercorn tree. Perhaps Grandfather was in the back yard.
Janet walked around the side of the house. “What’s up, Bluey?” she asked. “Don’t you remember me? I haven’t seen you for a long time. Where’s Grandfather?”
Just then Janet noticed that the dog was panting by his empty water bowl. “You’re thirsty, Bluey! Grandfather must be ill, for he’d never forget to give you water on a hot day like this.” She ran back to the house.
“Help!” A voice sounded very faint. From far away it came again, “Help!”
Across the yard, through the vegetable garden, and under the jacaranda tree Janet raced. And there, sprawled in the doorway of the chicken house, lay Grandfather.
“I tripped over the jacaranda root,” Grandfather moaned. “I meant to chop it out long ago. I think I broke my hip, and I’ve been lying here since early this morning when I came to feed the chickens. I thought help would never come.”
“Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry,” Janet comforted, “but I’ll go for help.” She ran into the house, found the telephone, and dialed the district hospital. Speaking quickly but carefully, Janet told them to send an ambulance to Mr. Turner’s house on the top of the hill on Murray Road.
A few days later when Grandfather was feeling much better, a small family gathered around his hospital bed. Grandfather held Janet’s hand. “I never was so glad to see anyone as I was to see you, young lady. But how did you happen to come just when I needed you?”
“I was lonesome to see you and thought I’d ask you to be friends with us,” Janet replied.
“For a long time I’ve been sorry that I’ve been so stubborn,” Grandfather admitted. “But I was too proud to say so. What happened the other day showed me that I need my family.
“A church shouldn’t divide a family,” Grandfather continued, “so when I’m all better I’ll visit your church with you.”
“That would be great,” Janet said as she squeezed Grandfather’s hand.
“Our church unites families,” Daddy explained. “We’d like to tell you all about it. We had hoped to go to the New Zealand Temple next month, where we could be sealed to each other as a family, but we aren’t able to do so. Maybe if we wait another year, we’ll have another important member of our family going with us.” Daddy smiled at them. “That will certainly be worth waiting for!”
And Janet felt a warm glow of promise.

By 1968 I had a wife and a son. We moved to Guatemala City so I could find better employment. On 20 November 1975, two young American women, simply dressed, knocked on our door. They said they had a message for my family. We made an appointment for them to come back at a later time.
I remember the first discussion clearly. One of the young women said a prayer, and then the other one began to talk about Joseph Smith. In her hands was a copy of the pamphlet I had read as a boy! My search for the truth had come to an end in my own living room.
No words can express what I felt at that moment. I wanted to snatch the pamphlet out of her hands. The sisters noticed the way I was looking at it and said they would leave it with me. When they gave me that precious pamphlet, I could hardly believe it. I put it in my shirt pocket to keep it near my heart.
Two days later the missionaries returned. When they saw the pamphlet in my pocket, they asked if I had read it. I told them they didn’t realize what it meant to me. I explained I had read it as a boy and had prayed to find it again.
On Sunday our family went to church. We arrived very early, and the sisters were surprised to see us. They hadn’t really invited us, just told us where the building was.
The sisters continued to teach us. Although they didn’t speak Spanish very well, they taught by the Holy Ghost. When they taught us about repentance, I felt something I had never felt before and started to cry. Then I realized we were all crying. I was convinced I had found the true Church.
My wife, Rosa Élida, had a similar experience. It happened when the sisters invited us to be baptized. “Sister Salguero,” they asked, “do you want to follow the Savior?” She realized right then that she did.
When I asked the Lord to help me find His Church, I promised I would serve Him. From the first time I went to church, I have faithfully attended and have tried to serve diligently. I have had many wonderful Church callings, including serving twice as bishop. My wife has served in the Primary and Relief Society and in the family history program. My eldest son served a full-time mission, and now his younger brother is preparing to serve. We have two daughters who are also active in the Church.
Whenever I am asked to speak in church, I try to communicate the joy I feel as a member of the Lord’s Church. I know that God lives and that through the Prophet Joseph Smith He has restored to us His gospel, His Church, and the authority of His priesthood.

It can be easy to feel like we’re not good enough. I felt that recently when I was invited to sing with the Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square during general conference.
My patriarchal blessing says that I should develop my talents, especially those involving music. I really took that to heart on my mission and decided to develop my voice.
When I got home from my mission, I chose to pursue a career in music. I went to a nearby university and got a degree in music. I later started a job as a music teacher, which I am still doing today.
When I found out that the Church was offering to bring singers from around the world to join the Tabernacle Choir and sing for general conference, I decided to audition. However, after the audition was over, all I could think was, “That was so bad. There’s no way I’m getting in after that. I’m definitely not going to be a part of the choir.”
A few weeks later, I got an email response. Again, I told myself I would not be invited to join the choir, based on how badly I’d botched the audition. However, I was stunned to learn that the email was not in fact a rejection letter—it was an invitation.
I was dumbfounded. It was an immense honor to receive this invitation.
Being able to sing with the choir was a highlight of my life. I learned a lot, met many incredible people, and felt the Spirit speak to me strongly as I performed.
When I think about everything that led me to that moment, I’m amazed. I felt the Savior’s love and direction when I felt prompted to get my patriarchal blessing, and I continue to feel it. There were certainly moments in between getting my patriarchal blessing and now when I wondered to myself, “What am I even doing?” I struggled to trust the timing of the Lord and to feel like I was good enough for whatever lay ahead.
During one of those times, a friend gave me this advice:
“When you’re not feeling good enough, there are really only two options.
“Option one: You tell yourself you can do it. You say, I’m going to be great, and it’s going to go well. But in that moment, you’re not letting Christ in. You’re convincing yourself that you can do it alone. But you’re never going to be able to do it alone.
“Hence option two: It is Christ who helps you through all things. It is Christ whose strength helps you live and stand and do. Especially in our brokenness. Because it’s in the brokenness that we turn to Christ and He in turn lifts you and carries you.”
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” said Paul to the Philippians (Philippians 4:13). This verse reminds me of what my friend taught me that day and helps me keep in mind my dependence on Christ and His Atonement.
Oftentimes when we face things that are scary or stressful, we shut down. We procrastinate. But that’s not how Christ would have us be. He would rather we act and do, trusting in Him, than not do anything at all.
I’ve come to realize—in times when it’s hard and times when it’s easy—that I’m OK. I’m OK because Jesus Christ knows me at my very worst, and as I rely on Him, He helps me become my very best. And I’ve also learned that once we’ve accepted that within ourselves, then it becomes our priority to love other people in their brokenness so they can experience Christ and become their best.
President Emily Belle Freeman, Young Women General President, taught: “Like Enoch, we must remember that the One who was bruised and broken for us will allow mortality to do its work in us, but He doesn’t ask us to face those challenges alone. No matter the heaviness of our story or the current course of our path, He will invite us to walk with Him.”
If you’re not feeling good enough, remember that the Savior loves you in your brokenness. He and Heavenly Father know what you’re capable of and what you can become. They will support you and lift you up and help you become your very best.

When Lexie’s grandmother visited the Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, last year, she learned about the poor conditions for newborn babies in many parts of the world. “Grandma told me that babies were being brought home wrapped in newspapers, and I just thought, ‘What can I do?’” Lexie explains.
She set a goal to make them baby quilts. First, her grandma taught her how to use the sewing machine. Then they purchased batting and flannel decorated with pastel flowers, checked patterns, and bright smiley faces for babies to snuggle up in.
Lexie made her first quilt for her mom. She also gave one to her seven-year-old sister, Lillyn. Lillyn helped Lexie by tying the quilts—using a needle to sew yarn in neat rows across the whole blanket. Then she snipped between the stitches and tied knots so little puffs of yarn would stick up from the fabric. Lillyn had one problem with her task. “Sometimes when I poke a needle through the blanket, I poke myself!” she exclaims.
Lillyn helped in other ways, too. She went with Lexie, their grandma, and a cousin to deliver the blankets to the Humanitarian Center. There Lexie dropped the quilts into a big gray bin filled with blankets and quilts donated by other people. The Humanitarian Center sends these donated items to people in more than 100 countries.
Was reaching her goal worth so much time and work? “Yes,” Lexie insists, nodding quickly. “I know that I’m helping someone, and I feel very good about that.”

One Sunday when I was a stake president I was at home - a fairly rare occurrence. That day our oldest daughter had a meltdown, told us we were the worst parents in the world, went downstairs to her room, slammed the door and turned her music up to at least 2,000 decibels. After several minutes of the entire house rattling, I went downstairs to tell her to turn her music down. As I approached her room, I heard the words of her music: "You're not alone." I stopped and thought, "If there is any message that should be blasted into the very soul of every Latter-day Saint - young or old - it is that one!" So I turned around and went back upstairs - without even mentioning to her that I had been there. In a few minutes, the music came down on its own. She came up and said, "I'm sorry." We said the same, and the Spirit returned to our home. It has been many years since that Sunday, but I have never forgotten the message: We are children of a kind Heavenly Father and are, indeed, not alone.

A few weeks ago there appeared in our local newspaper the account of a woman who while reading a magazine in her doctor's office waiting room read of an "Exemplary Husband " contest being sponsored by the magazine and inviting entries to be submitted for the contest. The woman returned home, wrote a description of the admirable traits of her thoughtful husband and without informing him she mailed it and immediately forgot about her entry.

Several weeks later she was notified that her entry had been selected as a finalist in the contest. Her husband was embarrassed and she was justifiably pleased and proud. Listen to her description of her husband written in her entry.

As I read the account of this wonderful couple I was thrilled as I'm certain others were also. I don't know that they are members of the Church, but the power of their example is so desperately needed and appreciated regardless of religious affiliation. O how this world that lacks so much kindness and civility in marriage is blessed by the example of that couple and so many others like them.

At age 14, Martin of the Westlands Branch found himself away from his home in Nairobi, attending a boarding school where he was the only member of the Church. In Martin’s school, on certain days of the week, only tea and bread were offered for breakfast. With 700 students, school authorities did not have the means to provide a special menu for one, so Martin chose to take water with the bread.
On Sundays he had to attend church with the rest of his schoolmates. There he had to listen to religious teachings he knew were sometimes distorted. From time to time schoolmates would steal glances at him as they talked in low tones about his “strange” beliefs. Occasionally, some would even call him a devil worshipper.
These challenges strengthened rather than weakened Martin. He was greatly encouraged by monthly visits from his parents and frequent messages from his branch president, who always sent the latest issue of the New Era. Reading it helped increase his courage to face these trials.
Joseph of the Riruta Ward holds the office of teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood. He remains faithful to the gospel despite being the only Church member in a large school in which many of his peers participate in drugs and other evils. Joseph has never missed church. He is always early, and he is clean and ready to serve as assigned by his quorum president and bishop. He helps prepare the sacrament almost every Sunday.
Humphrey of the Upper Hill Ward is also a teacher. He was baptized into the Church just two years ago. As Martin did, Humphrey currently attends boarding school. Part of the reason his faith has grown so much since he joined the Church is that he receives all his seminary assignments by post (by mail), does them, and returns them promptly to his seminary teacher.
When boarding school closes, Humphrey typically has to walk 45 minutes one way on Sundays to get a ride to church. Nevertheless, he is always early at church and ready to serve as assigned.
Whenever he receives an assignment to speak, Humphrey is diligent in his preparation. It is clear to all who listen that he has put much effort into preparing his talk.

I had the privilege of being involved with a young man and a father recently. The young man and a friend were up hiking in the lower foothills near Cody, Wyoming. The friend jumped across a high-power line that was down, but the young man got tangled in it and was electrocuted. The friend turned and ran all the way back down to where the father lived—and it was no short distance—and told him that his son had been electrocuted and was dead. The father, who was not a young man, ran all the way back up, taking about fifteen minutes. When he got where the boy was lying across the wires, he in some way removed the boy from the wires with a board or large stick. Then he picked his son up in his arms and held him, saying, “In the name of Jesus Christ and by the power and authority of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood, I command you to live.” The dead boy in his father’s arms opened his eyes. He was taken to the University of Utah Medical Center for treatment and a blessing. I believe that it is this kind of experience that we have as we walk through this life with Him.

He never sought Church positions, however, or felt that calls ought to come to him. When Elder Mark E. Petersen of the Council of the Twelve came to Palo Alto to reorganize the stake presidency in 1951, David Haight had served as a bishop’s counselor and was the junior high counselor. He felt sure he did not have the qualities the Lord required in a member of the stake presidency. But the next day he was sustained as stake president.

“He really did a great work while he was Palo Alto Stake president. He could see the growth coming,” says Ruby Haight. He oversaw the construction of a stake center and several chapels and acquired the pieces of land where all but one of the present chapels in the area have been built.

But more important, perhaps, he loved the people and gained their love in return. Richard Sonne, who served as a counselor in the stake presidency (he succeeded President Haight as stake president and later was president of the Oakland Temple), said President Haight “always complimented people. He went out of his way to get acquainted.”

President Haight’s leadership skills were steady. “He would explain to people, ‘This is what we should do,’ and expect them to carry out their responsibility.”

Today, he is known and appreciated throughout the Church for his focus on and ability to train priesthood leaders in the organization and effective use of priesthood councils and quorums.

I remember when one of our daughters went on a blind date. She was all dressed up and waiting for her date to arrive when the doorbell rang. In walked a man who seemed a little old, but she tried to be polite. She introduced him to me and my wife and the other children; then she put on her coat and went out the door. We watched as she got into the car, but the car didn’t move. Eventually our daughter got out of the car and, red faced, ran back into the house. The man that she thought was her blind date had actually come to pick up another of our daughters who had agreed to be a babysitter for him and his wife.
We all had a good laugh over that. In fact, we couldn’t stop laughing. Later, when our daughter’s real blind date showed up, I couldn’t come out to meet him because I was still in the kitchen laughing. Now, I realize that our daughter could have felt humiliated and embarrassed. But she laughed with us, and as a result, we still laugh about it today.

Forty-six years ago I was called as an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve, and for the first time, I came to this pulpit. I was 37 years old. I found myself standing among the venerable and wise prophets and apostles, “whose names,” as the song proclaims, “we all revere” (“Oh, Holy Words of Truth and Love,” Hymns, no. 271). I felt how keenly inadequate I was.
About that time here in the Tabernacle I had a defining experience. It gave me assurance and courage.
In those days Primary conference was held here before the April conference. I came through a south door as the opening song was being sung by a large choir of Primary children. Sister Lue S. Groesbeck, a member of the Primary general board, was leading them. They sang:
Rev’rently, quietly, lovingly we think of thee;
Rev’rently, quietly, softly sing our melody.
Rev’rently, quietly, humbly now we pray,
Let thy Holy Spirit dwell in our hearts today.
(“Reverently, Quietly,” Children’s Songbook, 26)
As the children sang quietly, the organist, who understood that excellence does not call attention to itself, did not play a solo while they sang. He skillfully, almost invisibly blended the young voices into a melody of inspiration, of revelation. That was the defining moment. It fixed deeply and permanently in my soul that which I most needed to sustain me in the years to follow.
I felt perhaps that which Elijah the prophet had felt. He sealed the heavens against the wicked king Ahab and fled to a cave to seek the Lord:
“A great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks … ; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:
“And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire [came] a still small voice.
“And it was so,” the record says, “when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering in of the cave” to speak to the Lord (1 Kings 19:11–13).
I felt something of what the Nephites must have felt when the Lord appeared to them: “They heard a voice as if it came out of heaven; and they cast their eyes round about, for they understood not the voice which they heard; and it was not a harsh voice, neither was it a loud voice; nevertheless, and notwithstanding it being a small voice it did pierce them that did hear to the center, insomuch that there was no part of their frame that it did not cause to quake; yea, it did pierce them to the very soul, and did cause their hearts to burn” (3 Nephi 11:3).
It is this still, small voice which Elijah and the Nephites heard that the Prophet Joseph Smith understood when he wrote, “Thus saith the still small voice, which whispereth through and pierceth all things” (D&C 85:6).
In that defining moment, I understood that the still, small voice is felt more than heard. If I hearkened to it, I would be all right in my ministry.
After that, I had the assurance that the Comforter, the Holy Ghost, is there for everyone who will respond to the invitation to ask, to seek, and to knock (see Matthew 7:7–8; Luke 11:9–10; 3 Nephi 14:7–8; D&C 88:63). I knew I would be all right. As the years have unfolded, so it has been.
I learned too what power there can be in music. When music is reverently presented, it can be akin to revelation. At times, I think, it cannot be separated from the voice of the Lord, the quiet, still voice of the Spirit.
Worthy music of all kinds has its place. And there are endless numbers of places where it can be heard. But the Tabernacle on Temple Square is different from them all.
For generations the Tabernacle Choir opened its weekly broadcast singing these words written by William W. Phelps:
Gently raise the sacred strain,
For the Sabbath’s come again
That man may rest, …
And return his thanks to God
For his blessings to the blest.
(“Gently Raise the Sacred Strain,” Hymns, no. 146)
More than 100 years ago, President Wilford Woodruff, then 91 years of age, delivered what may have been his last sermon from this pulpit. In the audience was 12-year-old LeGrand Richards. His father, George F. Richards (later ordained an Apostle), brought his boys to the Tabernacle to hear the Brethren. LeGrand never forgot that experience.
For more than 20 years, I was very close to Elder LeGrand Richards. When he was 96 years old, that message still lingered in his heart. He could not remember the words President Woodruff said, but he could never forget how he felt when they were said.
On occasions, I have felt the presence of those who built and kept this Tabernacle. By music and the spoken word, those who came before maintained the simplicity of the gospel and the testimony of Jesus Christ. That testimony was the guiding light in their lives.
Great events which shaped the destiny of the Church have occurred in this Tabernacle at Temple Square.
Every President of the Church, except Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, has been sustained in a solemn assembly in this Tabernacle. And in similar manner, the sustaining procedure is repeated annually in general conference and duplicated in every stake and ward and branch as required by revelation.
The Lord said, “It shall not be given to any one to go forth to preach my gospel, or to build up my church, except he be ordained by some one who has authority, and it is known to the church that he has authority and has been regularly ordained by the heads of the church” (D&C 42:11).
In this way, no stranger can come among us and claim to have authority and attempt to lead the Church astray.
Here in 1880 the Pearl of Great Price was accepted as one of the standard works of the Church.
Here also two revelations were added to the standard works, now known as Doctrine and Covenants sections 137 and 138. Section 137 records a vision given to the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Kirtland Temple, and section 138 is a vision given to President Joseph F. Smith concerning the Savior’s visit to the spirits of the dead.
Here in 1979, after years of preparation, the LDS version of the King James Bible was introduced to the Church.
The new editions of the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price were announced to the Church here.
In 1908 in a general conference, President Joseph F. Smith read section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants—the Word of Wisdom. Then he, both of his counselors, and the President of the Twelve all spoke to the same subject, the Word of Wisdom. Then a vote to accept it as binding upon the members of the Church was unanimously passed.
That revelation begins, “In consequence of evils and designs which do and will exist in the hearts of conspiring men in the last days, I have warned you, and forewarn you, by giving unto you this word of wisdom by revelation” (D&C 89:4).
It is a shield and a protection unto our people, particularly to our youth. It becomes a part of that “whole armor” of God promised in the revelations to protect them from the “fiery darts” of the adversary (see D&C 27:15–18).
The Church and individual members of it have always been, are now, and ever will be under siege from the adversary. He will cover, even erase the still, small voice through loud and dissonant music awash with lyrics that cannot be understood—or worse, by lyrics that can be understood. He will carefully lead us astray with every other temptation he could devise.
Here by revelation the Lord clarified the order of the priesthood, and this opened the doors to fulfill the commandment of the Savior to take the gospel to “every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people” (D&C 133:37) and to cause the Church to be established among them.
Here the Book of Mormon was given the subtitle “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.” Thereafter, whoever opens the book will know from the very title what is offered within.
The teachings, the sermons, the music, and the feelings and Spirit in this sacred building transfer without being diminished to the great Conference Center nearby, where they are heard by tens of thousands, translated into dozens of languages, and sent to congregations across the world.
Even more, that Spirit enters into the homes of millions upon millions of Latter-day Saints. In the homes, parents pray for the well-being of their children. Men and women and, as the Book of Mormon promised, even little children can receive the testimony of Jesus Christ (see Mosiah 24:22; Alma 32:23; 3 Nephi 17:25) and of the Restoration of His gospel.
This Tabernacle on Temple Square is “a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of glory and of God, even [His] house” (D&C 109:16). Those called to speak or to perform words, music, and culture are obligated to present that which is worthy.
To seek after the praise of men, the scriptures caution us, is to be led carefully away from the only safe path to follow in life (see John 12:43; 1 Nephi 13:9; 2 Nephi 26:29; Helaman 7:21; Mormon 8:38; D&C 58:39). And the scriptures warn us plainly what follows when we “aspire to the honors of men” (D&C 121:35).
It is not so much what is heard in the sermons but what is felt. The Holy Ghost can confirm to all who come within that influence that the messages are true, that this is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The Tabernacle stands here next to the temple as an anchor and has become symbolic of the Restoration. It was built by very poor and very, very ordinary people. It is now known worldwide.
The Tabernacle Choir, identified by the name of this building, has been a voice of the Church for many years. May they never drift from or allow themselves to be pulled away from the central mission which has been their place for generations.
For generation after generation the choir has opened and closed each broadcast with a message of inspiration, rich in principle and anchored in the doctrines of the Restoration, beginning with “Gently Raise the Sacred Strain” (Hymns, no. 146) and closing with “As the Dew from Heaven Distilling” (Hymns, no. 149).
The Tabernacle stands in the world as one of the great centers of worthy music and culture. But most of all, it stands as a standard of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. That simple testimony was embedded deeply and permanently in me here in this building by those Primary children singing in reverent, revelatory tones.
God bless this sacred building and all that transpires within its walls. How grateful we are that it has been renewed and refurbished without losing its sacred character.
Elder Parley P. Pratt of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles read these words from section 121 in the Doctrine and Covenants: “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven.
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever” (D&C 121:45–46).
Deeply moved, Parley P. Pratt turned his thoughts to a hymn which is actually a prayer. For many years it was chosen by the choir to close its weekly broadcast:
As the dew from heav’n distilling
Gently on the grass descends
And revives it, thus fulfilling
What thy providence intends,
Let thy doctrine, Lord, so gracious,
Thus descending from above,
Blest by thee, prove efficacious
To fulfill thy work of love.
Lord, behold this congregation;
Precious promises fulfill.
From thy holy habitation
Let the dews of life distill.
Let our cry come up before thee.
Thy sweet Spirit shed around,
So the people shall adore thee
And confess the joyful sound.
(“As the Dew from Heaven Distilling,” Hymns, no. 149)
I add my testimony that Jesus is the Christ, that this is His house, on this sacred day of dedication, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Martin woke up slowly. His mom was shaking his shoulder.
“Martin,” she said, “it’s time to wake up.”
Martin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The sky was still dark, but he knew what time it was. His family woke up at 5:30 every morning to read the Book of Mormon together. It wasn’t always easy to get up so early.
Martin rolled out of bed and walked slowly to the front room. He stretched and yawned really wide. His brothers and sisters looked sleepy too, but they were all there.
Each person read for five minutes. At first Martin wanted to go back to bed. But he kept listening. Each verse seemed to make him feel better and better. By the time they were done reading, Martin felt spiritually strong.
And spiritual strength was something Martin needed every day. In Kenya, there were only a few Church members Martin’s age, and they all lived far away. After school Martin went to a boys’ club run by a Catholic church. One week the club went on a camping trip together.
Martin had a lot of fun. He sang camping songs. He chopped logs. He even helped build a campfire.
But on the second day, one of the leaders brought out a teapot. “We’re going to have tea now,” he said.
The other boys were excited. They drank tea at home for special occasions. They all grabbed their cups and waited for the leader to fill them.
Martin felt a little nervous. He knew that he shouldn’t drink tea. But he didn’t want to offend his friends.
Then he remembered how he felt when he kept the commandments. When his family followed the prophet and read the Book of Mormon together, he felt happy. When they didn’t, he didn’t feel as happy.
Martin knew what he had to do.
“No, thank you,” he told the leader when he came to fill Martin’s cup. “I don’t want to drink tea.”
The leader looked surprised, but he let Martin drink water while the rest of the boys drank tea. Some of the boys wanted to know why Martin didn’t drink tea, but none of them made fun of him. Martin felt happy. He knew the Word of Wisdom would make his body strong. And he was glad that he had been strong enough to do the right thing.

As a youth I had many opportunities to perform baptisms for the dead in the San Diego California Temple. Though I always had a good experience, one trip in particular stands out in my mind.
I was 16, and my little sister had just turned 12 and was making her first trip to do baptisms for the dead. Since it was her first time, we decided to walk around the outside of the temple after we finished.
The temple grounds have a couple of lookout points on one side, so we walked over there. Because the San Diego Temple is situated next to a busy highway, when you stand at a lookout point, you actually look down at the freeway.
Standing on the temple’s higher ground that day gave me a new perspective on life. I was looking down at the world with its whizzing cars, crowded shopping centers, and graffiti-covered road signs.
It was then that the thought came to my mind: “You don’t want to be a part of that; it’s not what life is about.” I had always been taught that the purpose of life is to return to live with our Heavenly Father and become like Him. I knew I didn’t need the things of the world to accomplish that purpose.
I turned around and looked at the beautiful temple, and I was grateful for the knowledge of the gospel and the perspective it gave me. I knew that in the midst of the chaotic and treacherous world, I had found higher ground to stand on.
That day at the temple I promised my Heavenly Father that I would always stand on His side and not the world’s. No matter what the world throws at us, we can overcome it by keeping the covenants we have made and by standing in holy places (see D&C 87:8).