Gospel Story Finder

I saw that same miracle a few short days ago in the aftermath of Hurricane Irma in Puerto Rico, Saint Thomas, and Florida, where Latter-day Saints partnered with other churches, local community groups, and national organizations to begin cleanup efforts.
Like my friends in Rexburg, one nonmember couple in Florida focused on helping the community rather than laboring on their own property. When some Latter-day Saint neighbors offered help with the two large trees blocking their driveway, the couple explained that they had been overwhelmed and so had turned to helping others, having faith that the Lord would provide the aid they needed at their own home. The husband then shared that before our Church members arrived with offers of assistance, the couple had been praying. They had received an answer that help would come. It came within hours of that assurance.

Thirty years ago a true story unfolded in the most remote part of New Zealand. The windswept Chatham Islands are located in the South Pacific Ocean about 500 miles east of Christchurch. A hardy and resourceful 650 people lived there, isolated in the lonely, harsh environment of those days; and a young, inexperienced, and newly qualified doctor was responsible for their medical care.
An eight-year-old boy, Shane, had sustained a serious head injury 40 miles away on the far side of the island. He was being rushed in across the swamps and along the beaches on the backseat of an old, rusty car to the four-bed cottage hospital. He was unconscious.
The young doctor was unprepared to handle such a case, with little experience and having only the most basic of surgical instruments. Shane was in a critical condition. There was obvious bleeding inside his fractured skull—and blood clotting could fatally compress his brain. The doctor had never even seen a brain operation, but he knew he had to perform the delicate surgery immediately—or watch a little boy die.
There were blood donors to be called in, blood to be cross matched, an anesthetic to be prepared. The antique X-ray machine had broken down, so no helpful X-rays could be taken.
There was the first of many phone calls to Wellington, where a neurosurgeon tried to imagine the scene and guide the nervous young doctor through the process of a very delicate surgical procedure.
Shane’s mother prayed. The doctor prayed; the nurses prayed; the doctor’s wife prayed.
Responsibilities had to be delegated in this busy scene. The policeman administered the anesthetic, a nurse became the surgical assistant, and the work began under an Anglepoise light as darkness fell.
The first surgical incision, nervously performed, did not reveal any bleeding, so other incisions needed to be performed through Shane’s small skull to find the source of the bleeding. More calls to the neurosurgeon for direction and reassurance were made, and his advice was followed in every exact detail. After six hours of anxiety and pressure, the surgery was completed, the hemorrhage of blood into the brain cavity ceased, and a successful outcome was achieved. Serenity replaced chaos. It was around midnight.
The doctor was a young father. He thought about his family and the blessings they enjoyed. He was grateful for the many tender mercies of the Lord in his life and especially for the presence of the Comforter during the last 12 hours. He was grateful for the presence of an unseen expert who imparted of His far-greater knowledge freely in his time of need.
At the critical time in a desperate situation, the Lord provided the guidance and the ability for a young, inexperienced doctor to perform a miracle and preserve the life of a small boy, who was precious before the Lord.
Neil Hutchison was the young doctor who prayed for help and had the faith to rely on the Lord and the neurosurgeon, enabling him to perform a miracle under the most difficult of conditions. He now serves as the bishop in the East Coast Bays Ward in Auckland, New Zealand.
Bishop Hutchison advised me, “I had the privilege of meeting Shane and his father a couple of years ago in Christchurch for the first time since that day in 1976. He is an electrician with his own business and is aware of no defects from his long operation. He is such a nice chap, and I can’t help pondering on how thin the veil is between this life and the next.”

I am touched this evening to have in attendance a father of seven children whose sweetheart passed through the vale after a sudden illness just a few weeks ago—sweet Linda, thirty-two years of age, a devoted daughter, wife, and mother, taken home to our Father in Heaven for some inexplicable reason. The funeral was beautiful as Linda’s husband, daughter, and parents spoke of her love and talents. No one charged God foolishly. The testimonies and examples were powerful and strengthened our faith.

I threw myself on top of the dingy green bedspread and stared at the ceiling. My throat felt tight from fighting back tears. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. It had been a beautiful spring day. My companion and I were teaching several wonderful people in Kecskemét, Hungary. I was serving the Lord and should be joyful. So why had this oppressive sense of failure overcome me?
I knew many missionaries who struggled with occasional feelings of inadequacy; lately those feelings had seemed to become my permanent state of mind. But wasn’t I doing things right—praying regularly, reading the scriptures, working hard, obeying mission rules? Still, I felt so imperfect. It seemed as if my faults were preventing the Lord from reaching the people who needed to hear the gospel.
My companion was on her bed, reading a letter from home. I wanted to talk to her, but she was new in the country and struggling to adjust to mission life and to learn Hungarian. She didn’t need to hear about my problems.
I opened my scriptures and began reading in Ether 12:27: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me …”
I stopped. This scripture was one of my favorites. I had read it many times and had even prayed about it in the Missionary Training Center, asking the Lord to grant me humility and help me be strong. I knew that the Lord often teaches us humility through our weaknesses. Hadn’t Alma said as much to the poor people who had been cast out of the synagogues (see Alma 32:6–16)? I knew that if I could learn humility, the Lord would make me strong. But I did not feel strong, and my weaknesses were becoming more evident with every passing day. So what was I missing?
I decided to read the verse again. This time it was different. It was as if I had missed something in my previous readings. “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me.” As I read that line again, the Spirit overwhelmed me. “The grace of Christ is sufficient!” With insight from the Spirit, I felt things begin to fall into place.
Turning to the end of the Book of Mormon, I read Moroni’s beautiful invitation: “Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ” (Moro. 10:32).
The Spirit was trying to teach me. My problem was not that I had done something wrong but that I had failed to do something right. In my pride, I was trying to make myself perfect, rather than humbling myself before Jesus Christ and asking for His help in overcoming my weaknesses. Of course I was failing! None of us can do it alone—we can become perfected only in Christ, with His help. We must do our part, of course. But unless we truly come unto Christ, we cannot be saved, nor can the power of the Atonement take effect in our lives. But if we come unto Christ, then His grace is sufficient for us—not too little, but enough.
Things did not change overnight, but peace began to find its way into my heart. Although I still struggled occasionally, what I had learned about the Atonement helped me keep an eternal perspective and reminded me that it was not necessary to endure everything alone.
I will always be grateful for the opportunity to serve a mission. And I am particularly thankful for that quiet night in Kecskemét, Hungary, when I learned about the power of the Atonement to heal and make whole.

I came to BYU after working in the technology industry for seventeen years. I applied for a job at BYU because I felt that this was where I needed to be. At the time it didn’t make a lot of sense for my career since I would be starting over in many aspects. I hadn’t worked in the higher education industry. My studies had been at another university, and I wasn’t sure why I was pulled in this direction. I came from the corporate world, where religious discussions were not encouraged and were even frowned upon. My home is where most of my spiritual growth came from.

After being hired at BYU, I recall coming in on a Monday morning and sitting in a meeting that was full of employees. To begin the meeting, one person stood up and prayed. After they were seated, another person shared a spiritual thought with everyone. I sat there looking around the room in total amazement. I left that day knowing that I had joined a different world of business that was completely foreign to me. I continued to observe that in meeting after meeting: prayers were frequently offered before business was conducted. This was a place where the Spirit was invited every day and sometimes every hour. Was it unusual? From a business perspective, yes. Was it uncomfortable? At first, yes. Was it wonderful? Yes!

As wonderful as it was, the question that came to my mind was did I belong? Did I fit in? Did I measure up to the high standards and expectations that existed here? BYU is a place of high expectations. However, the gospel of Jesus Christ also has high expectations, and there may be times in your life when you question if you belong.

I finally transformed my question to “Why would I not belong?” I love my Savior and His gospel. I am determined enough to grow, humble enough to learn, and eager enough to make a difference, so why would I not belong? Changing the question changed my perspective and let me move forward.

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

I believe the concept of involvement encompasses even more than merely going through the motions. I think this is the concept that my dad was trying to teach me and my brothers when we were growing up in a small farming community in southeastern Arizona. At the time the Church in Duncan owned a large cotton farm. Because the weeds always seemed to grow faster than the cotton, the priesthood brethren were often called to hoe out the weeds. For a young boy, in the hot Arizona sun, that was no small task. Every time the request came, Dad would work shoulder-to-shoulder with his sons as we moved slowly up and down the rows of cotton.

When I got older I asked Dad why he just didn’t hire someone to fulfill his obligation. After all, his personal time was much more valuable than what it would have cost to hire a farmhand. Dad simply smiled and replied, “Son, it is because the welfare farm needs us, and we need the welfare farm.” I learned that service rendered with personal involvement becomes much more beneficial, both to the recipient and to the giver. When we render service with the proper attitude and for the right reasons, we benefit from being involved because we are expanding and developing our love and charity for others.

When the missionaries first approached Jormeto and Vineta Moreang on Majuro, Jormeto told them he was busy. He admits now that he was stretching the truth. There’s not all that much to do on Majuro. Although it is the capital of the Marshall Islands, like most atolls it is a small, self-contained world. Thanks to construction of a causeway during the second world war that joined several islands in the atoll together, Majuro is more than 56 kilometers long. But it still remains only a few hundred meters wide. A single road connects the west end with the east. Recreation consists mostly of swimming and fishing.
The Marshallese are a religious and hospitable people, and Jormeto, embarrassed by his inhospitality, finally allowed the missionaries into his home. At first, Vineta left when the elders came. But when she saw that her husband was serious about changing his life, she joined the discussions. Three months later, in July 1985, Jormeto was baptized. Vineta was baptized that October.
Jormeto says that his life is much better now. “Before, I didn’t care about my family’s needs. I was just interested in cigarettes and drink. But when I learned that our Heavenly Father cared for us, I began to change. I started reading the scriptures and Church manuals.”
“There’s a lot of change when a person joins the Church,” Vineta says. “Family life gets better. There is more respect. Even people’s bodies change, and they begin to change their environment.”
Change did not come easily for the Moreangs. “I asked the missionaries a lot of hard questions,” Jormeto says. “But they never showed anger or disappointment. They always stayed with me, like brothers. The more I tried to push them away, the more they loved me.” Their gentle kindness and concern kept him listening until the Spirit finally swept through his soul like a cool ocean breeze. At that point, he embraced the gospel of life.
And so have many others on Majuro. Some 10 percent of the estimated 23,000 people on Majuro have joined the Church, though keeping people active is a challenge. The Saints need training, and priesthood leaders are in short supply. Even so, Majuro may soon have the first stake in Micronesia. Brother Moreang explains the reason for the rapid growth: “Other churches are not teaching the true gospel,” he asserts. “People recognize the pure gospel when it comes.”
Jormeto has seen the growth first hand. Shortly after his baptism, he was called to be president of the Long Island Branch on Majuro. At that time, only four members attended church. When he was released several years later, more than 100 were attending. Brother Moreang currently serves as a counselor in the district presidency and as Sunday School president of the Long Island Branch. He also teaches seminary and works as the custodian at the chapel.
He has plenty to do.

A few weeks later President Hinckley came for the dedication. A press conference was arranged for the prophet to meet with the press. He stated nearly the same words of President Kufor. He said, "This temple will not only bless the lives of the members of the Church; it will bless the entire nation of Ghana and all of West Africa."

The day before the dedication the prophet held a fireside for members of the Church. They came, some traveling for days, to see and hear a prophet of God. As he stood to address them, he said, "I'm getting old, you probably won't see me again and I won't see you again in this life, so listen very carefully; what I have to say is very important." He continued, "I am going to tell you four things that you need to do to be acceptable to the Lord, to retain your testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and to be worthy to enter this beautiful house of the Lord."

"First," he said, "You must pray daily." As he talked to them about prayer, it was as if he were a loving grandfather speaking to his grandchildren. He said, "Think of the miracle of prayer! Imagine--here we are--just mortal people and we can kneel and pray to our Heavenly Father and He hears us! Now, all of our prayers might not be answered as soon as we would like, or the way we would like, but He hears them. It's a miracle."

Through all ages of time, the commandment has been, "Ask of God; ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find, knock, and it shall be opened unto you."[7] Our Heavenly Father loves you; you are His children. He is always there for you if only you will ask in humble daily prayer. President Hinckley ended by saying again, "Isn't it a miracle that we can pray to our Heavenly Father and know that He answers our prayers? Well, it's marvelous!" Can't you just hear President Hinckley saying that?

Next he counseled them to have daily scripture study.

Next, President Hinckley counseled the Ghanaian Saints to attend their meetings.

The last thing President Hinckley talked about was tithing. He admonished the Saints to pay their tithes and offerings.

I was at church, and I was listening to the talks. Someone said, “a service is service no matter how small.” And that gave me an idea. I called it “The Service Club.” I took paper and a few markers and made invitation cards. Then I cut them out and gave them away.
Last Sunday was the first meeting, and we decided to do nice sidewalk chalk messages at the homes of people who needed encouragement. We did that for six families! I feel good that we did the service club. I’m glad we did service. The club’s motto is “a service is service no matter how small.”

The older of the home teachers paused a moment, then said, “Well, Chris, that’s a fair question. It reminds me of something that happened when I was just a couple of years older than you are. When I first went away to college back east, I took certain notions along with me—prejudices, I guess. I thought I would be going from the shelter of simple farm life to a decadent city where my principles would be challenged every minute. But that didn’t really happen. I was surprised to find that most of my classmates were fine people. Some of them belonged to other churches, and some didn’t belong to any church at all. And as I observed their behavior, I sometimes wondered if I would have been as honest as many of them were if I hadn’t been raised in a Latter-day Saint family. Have you ever thought about that?”
Chris nodded, and the home teacher continued: “So when we say that ours is the only true church, we’re not saying that we’re superior to other people or that we’re the only people on earth who are concerned about doing good, but that this is the one church that the Lord has authorized through priesthood power to preach his gospel and perform the ordinances necessary for salvation. We want all people to have these good things. …”
The discussion continued calmly. After looking up “One Lord, one faith, one baptism” (Eph. 4:5) and a few other scriptures, Chris soon had a satisfactory answer to his question.
The response of this home teacher to Chris’s troubled question illustrates a number of principles that can be helpful in dealing with criticism positively and effectively:
1. Don’t be shocked; be prepared. Questions or statements that seem critical of the Church, of gospel principles, or of other members and leaders do confront home teachers from time to time. How they respond to such criticism can have a lasting effect upon the families they are called to assist. But if home teachers are prepared to respond in a reasonable way, and to exercise their influence “only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; by kindness, and pure knowledge” (D&C 121:41–42), there will seldom be an occasion for surprise, embarrassment, or a collision of opinions.
Argument and contention have no place in home teaching. By responding with a sure gentleness, this home teacher was careful to leave Chris an easy way to agree with him when he eventually chose to.
2. Focus on the positive. When a troublesome statement is made, a thoughtful home teacher might begin by assuming that the person is trying to express an honest question. Then divide the statement into positive and negative elements, he can focus on the positive.
In this instance the home teacher saw that Chris’s statement had two parts: (1) the question of ours being the only true church, and (2) his feeling that there are many admirable people who are nonmembers. Therefore, the home teacher first focused on Chris’s positive feelings about his friends—something that both of them could agree on completely. Then, when everyone was comfortable in the discussion, he went on to deal with the doctrinal question that the young man had raised. Because of his approach, the home teacher was able to avoid an argument; and when there’s no argument to win, agreement is always easier.
3. Don’t be in a hurry to correct the error. It isn’t easy to change the direction of a person’s thinking when he is filled with emotion—and criticism is generally an emotional experience. Give the critic time and opportunity to correct himself.
In the days of the great cattle drives there were sometimes stampedes. A stampede was not only destructive to everything in its path, but it was also very harmful to the cattle themselves. The cowboys learned from experience that it was unwise to try to stop a stampede by meeting it head-on. Instead, they would ride alongside until they could reach the front of the herd and redirect the lead cattle into paths which would avoid harm until they could get the head cow in control, slowed down, and moving toward the desired destination.
Criticism that home teachers encounter often has many parallels with a cattle stampede. It is usually a result of fear, pain, hurt feelings, or misunderstanding. It is destructive not only to the criticized, but even more to the critic. And as with a stampede, it is generally not wise to try to stop criticism by direct confrontation. The most helpful way to begin is often to run alongside until you can redirect runaway emotions into calmer paths, just as Chris’s home teacher did.
Sometimes this requires that the home teacher simply be a listener, for listening often detects criticism that is voiced to cover up other problems. For example, “I just don’t like to go to meetings” may really mean, “I don’t have good hearing” or “I can’t quit smoking.” And the statement, “Relief Society is just a place for gossip” may mean, “My daughter and her husband are separating and I worry about what people will say.” By listening with patience and encouragement, the home teacher allows the person to overcome the hurt or weakness that is keeping him from enjoying the spirit of the gospel.
The Savior said, “Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him” (Matt. 5:25). This does not mean that we should add our voices to the chorus of criticism. We should try to find a common, positive ground and establish a level of confidence before we try to correct or redirect. This was the home teacher’s approach with Chris: agree where you can, and don’t deal with divisive issues until you have created an atmosphere where calm discussion can take place.
Bear testimony. In a way that will be encouraging and uplifting, bear testimony to the truthfulness of the gospel and the power of revelation in directing the Church. Be careful not to convey a message of condemnation or antagonism toward the person you are trying to help.
Chris had other disturbing questions that had come up in talks with his friends—questions that were also of concern to his parents. Though inactive, they wanted their son to be positive about the Church but they didn’t have all the answers he needed. Therefore, when the home teachers left, it was agreed that they would return once a week for some time to teach the family gospel principles selected from a list of topics they prepared. After each lesson the family members were invited to ask any questions they desired.
This arrangement worked very well. In a later visit, Chris asked another question that was troubling him: “Why does the Church build so many expensive buildings while there are so many people starving in the world?”
The home teachers approached this question much the same as they did the previous one. Analyzing his statement, they saw that it too was composed of two parts: (1) a feeling of concern for the needy people of the earth, and (2) an assertion about the amount of money spent on Church buildings.
Having divided the question into its positive and negative elements, they focused on the positive—for, as long as the focus was on concern for the needy, they could be in complete agreement. One of the home teachers said:
“Chris, when you mention the poor, you’ve hit on one of the most important areas of concern in the Church. I suppose there have been very few times when the Lord was really pleased with the people of the earth and the way they lived. But one good example is Enoch’s city of Zion.” He thumbed through his scriptures and handed the book to Chris. “Read verse 18 there,” he said.
Chris read, “‘And the Lord called his people ZION, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them.’” (Moses 7:18.)
“In Zion there should be no poor,” said the home teacher, “and that’s a problem the Church is trying to do something about.” He mentioned the Church’s personal and family preparedness program, in which families are taught and encouraged to become literate and productive, to improve their employment, to be prepared through storage of necessary commodities, to look after their health, both physical and emotional. Then he added, “You mentioned Church buildings, Chris. Our meetinghouses are the places where we go to worship and to learn these important things.”
“That’s true,” said his companion. “I remember when I lived in the Northwest. It was a little town, and there weren’t many members there when we joined the Church. We were anxious to learn, and I can’t tell you how important it was to us to have a place to meet together and be taught. We built a chapel there. It was a real sacrifice, but we had no doubt that it was necessary and practical one. All building construction is expensive. We put into our chapel as much excellence and beauty as our limited funds would allow.”
“Where does the money come from?” asked Chris.
“From you and me,” the companion chuckled. “That’s why we watch the dollars carefully. Meetinghouses and temples are all well built but not extravagant. But I want to say that it’s hard to express the change that comes in the life of a new convert, even people as poor as we were. The Church has improved everything about us, I think—and I guess our standard of living too. That’s why I believe that ultimately the gospel is the solution to poverty and suffering of all kinds, spiritual and physical.”
In this instance again, these home teachers succeeded with Chris because they were able to move in the direction of his thoughts without contributing to the problem. Ignoring for a moment the hint of bitterness in his question, they reinforced his positive inclinations and thus turned a potentially negative experience into a fine teaching moment.
These same steps might well apply even in situations where there is criticism of individual Church leaders or other members. Regardless of what the criticism is, we should begin with whatever might be positive in the communication. It might simply be the implied wish that every leader-every member of the Church, for that matter—could be perfect. The initial discussion should lead away from the specific person to the principle that the objective of the gospel is to lead us to perfection. Above all, the home teacher should avoid giving the impression of joining in the criticism.
The discussion should eventually lead to the idea that leaders in the Church are called through the process of inspiration, and that sustaining means helping a person fulfill his responsibilities no matter what we think his shortcomings may be. It means upholding someone whom God has called. If you have served as a leader, you might tell of the difficulty of making certain decisions you were faced with, and how important that sustaining influence was to you.
Going further, the home teacher might find a gentle way to remind the critic that another person’s imperfections have little to do with his own salvation.
Regardless of the procedure we might use in responding to criticism, there is one principle which overshadows all others. That, of course, is love. Criticism may be one of the greatest obstacles to love, but love is also the greatest tool for overcoming criticism. The message of the gospel is that we should not only have love but that we should create love in the hearts of others. We create love by showing it. In home teaching we show love by recognizing the accomplishments, by visiting, by helping, teaching, supporting, and caring. That’s home teaching. It is the process by which we create love for the gospel, and for one another.

I read of a young woman who exercised that kind of faith and trust. For many months her mother had been seriously ill. Finally, the faithful father called the children to her bedside and told them to say good-bye to their mother because she was dying. The twelve-year-old daughter protested:
“Papa, I do not want my mamma to die. I have been with her in the hospital … for six months; time and time again … you have administered to her, and she has been relieved of her pain and quietly gone to sleep. I want you to lay hands upon my mamma and heal her.”
The father, who was Elder Heber J. Grant, told the children that he felt in his heart that their mother’s time had arrived. The children left, and he knelt by his wife’s bedside. Later he recalled his prayer: “I told the Lord I acknowledged his hand in life [and] in death. … But I told the Lord that I lacked the strength to have my wife die and to have it affect the faith of my little children.” He pleaded with the Lord to give his daughter “a knowledge that it was his mind and his will that her mamma should die.”
Within an hour the mother died. When Elder Grant called the children back into her room and told them, his little six-year-old boy began to weep bitterly. The twelve-year-old sister took him in her arms and said: “Do not weep, Heber; since we went out of this room, the voice of the Lord from heaven has said to me, In the death of your mamma the will of the Lord shall be done” (Bryant S. Hinckley, Heber J. Grant: Highlights in the Life of a Great Leader, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1951, pp. 243–44).

The group leader of my high priests quorum is a solid and stalwart Latter-day Saint who was recently visited by a young returned missionary who came to sell him some insurance. Cashing in on his training in the mission field, the fellow assured the brother that he knew that he had the right policy for him just as he knew the gospel was true. Whereupon my friend, without further ado, ordered him out of the house. For one with a testimony should hold it sacred and not sell it for money. The early Christians called Christemporoi those who made merchandise of spiritual gifts or Church connections. The things of the world and the things of eternity cannot be thus conveniently conjoined, and it is because many people are finding this out today that I am constrained at this time to speak on this unpopular theme.

I had my mother to thank that I was cooking breakfast for 120 elderly people on Christmas morning. Instead of Santa waking us, the phone rang with a call for help from the nursing home where I worked part-time. No one, the head nurse explained, had shown up for work, and they were desperate. Could I possibly come down for a few hours. My mom said we all would!
Morning is everyone’s least favorite time except for Mom, who managed to be extra coherent with Christmas spirit as she announced the news. “Get up! They need us down at the home. We’ll have our Christmas later. First, we have to go cook lots of eggs.”
“What about the presents?” Todd and Christine, my younger brother and sister, wailed.
“We’ve waited all night,” Christine pleaded.
“It’ll be here when we get home. Now get the lead out. Mom and Dad are serious about this,” I said without much sympathy.
Somehow we managed to pile in the car, and we drove the two miles in silence. The nurse met us at the door looking disheveled and frantic. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. Not wasting any more time with gratitude, she pushed us towards the kitchen in unison. The only cook to show up that morning, Gladys, was rushing from stove to steam table, scooping out scrambled eggs and shouting orders to Frank, the janitor.
“Get moving on that O.J., will you,” Gladys said. She hadn’t noticed her bleary-eyed crew yet. “They’ll be down in 45 minutes, and I can’t find the bread, let alone the toaster.”
“Uhmmm, maybe we could be of help,” offered my dad, a bit reluctantly.
“We’re Diane’s family,” Mom introduced us, steering Todd and Chris over to the newly found toaster. “I think the children can make toast. Oh, by the way, I’m Irene, and this is my husband, Bill,” she pointed to Dad. “You know Diane, and the toast makers are Christine and Todd.”
“Hi,” muttered Chris and Todd together. They were thinking about opening presents, not about buttering toast.
Gladys stood in the middle of the kitchen supporting her latest batch of eggs. After a moment’s hesitation, she sized us all up and decided we’d do. Gladys shoved the bowl in Dad’s stomach, “Here, you look like an egg man to me. You can take over scrambling.”
Dad caught the bowl and his breath. “Sure, I can do that,” he gasped.
“And you, Diane,” Gladys turned me toward the hot cereal. “Oatmeal duty.”
We all set to work and before we knew it the breakfast rush was on, over, and breakfast dishes were just beginning.
“Mom, can’t we go home yet?” Christine whimpered, emphasizing yet. “It’s almost eight and every child in America, probably the entire world, has opened their gifts except us. Doesn’t that bother you even a little?”
Mom didn’t mince words. “No, not even a little, Chris,” she answered watching Dad and Todd squirt each other with the high powered hoses. “I know it isn’t easy to be here on Christmas, honey, but could we really be anywhere else?” When neither Chris or I responded, Mom started humming a cheery carol. “Let’s sing a song,” she encouraged.
I honestly wasn’t in the mood. Helping others was supposed to make a person feel good, but I was right there with Chris, wanting to be opening gifts and away from the smell of eggs and nursing home.
Mom continued without us, singing her favorite, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” At first she sang softly, but by the second verse she picked up the volume. Chris and I gave in, joining Mom, and sliding dishes down the metal chute on beat.
“Let’s sing ‘Rudolph,’” Todd shouted. “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” it was, Dad leading the family along in a loud baritone. This might have ended our musical contribution on that unusual Christmas morning, if it hadn’t been for Brother Greenwall.
I turned to pick up one of the last dish stacks, and there he stood, listening at the kitchen serving window. Brother Greenwall had lived in our neighborhood and attended church with us until his wife passed away.
“Hi, Brother Greenwall,” I said. His lonely eyes stared back, not recognizing me.
My dad smiled over his shoulder and walked to the window. “Harry, how are you? It’s Bill. Did you hear us singing away in here?” Dad chuckled, “Hope we didn’t disturb you.”
Harry Greenwall smiled back at Dad. I wasn’t sure if he remembered him or not, but something had been triggered. “Just a minute,” he muttered, hurrying off to the TV lounge.
Dad watched him go. “I wonder what he’s up to,” he said as Harry returned with two or three friends and their chairs. Before we figured out what Harry had in mind, he’d pushed open the door and seated them by the stove, then hobbled back to the TV room.
Eyebrows raised, Mom checked out the three seated in the kitchen. “Well, Bill, do you think we’re supposed to keep singing?” When no one volunteered an opinion she added, “I think Harry wants a performance.”
“Oh, Mom, do we have to?” Todd groaned, blasting his dishes with an extra hard squirt.
Dad put his arm around Todd, “You’ve heard of singing for your supper haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but …”
“Well, you get to sing for your presents.”
Chris and I laughed. “Come on and give me a hand helping Brother Greenwall with his friends,” said Dad.
By now Harry had returned, cramming in seven more concertgoers. Eight more joined the group, bringing the crowd to about twenty. Fully staffed, the kitchen never held more than eight people.
Harry stared at us without recognition, interested only in the music. Mom and Dad exchanged their you’d-better-do-something look, and Dad picked up the cue. “Well, folks, Harry thought you’d all like a little Christmas music.”
We sang, starting with family favorites like “Jingle Bells,” “Silent Night,” and “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” Actually, “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful” is Dad’s favorite. Mom says his eyes twinkle when he sings that song. I looked over at Dad to catch that twinkle, and its shine filled me with warmth. My voice cracked, and I stopped singing, bowing my head to hide the tears.
Looking down at the floor, I felt love for each of those people listening to my family sing. I tried to join in the music, but the same feeling came again, repeating the impression. This time I knew the Savior wanted them to know of his love. Doubting myself, I hesitated a moment and was overwhelmed for the third time with the same desire to comfort them.
My family finished the last few measures of music, and I began without thinking, “I just want to tell you I know Jesus lives. He is concerned for you and loves you. I didn’t really want to come here today, but I’m glad we did. Most of all, I hope you can feel the Savior’s love for you like I have. He really wants you to know this.”
Dad put his arm around me. “I couldn’t give any of you a better gift at Christmas than the knowledge that Jesus lives, as Diane has said.”
The kitchen was silent for a minute, the spirit of Christ in our hearts. “Let’s sing a carol together,” Mom suggested. “What one would you like, Harry?”
Considering all the carols available and Harry’s love for Christmas music, we should have been surprised when his choice wasn’t a traditional Christmas song.
“I Know That My Redeemer Lives,” he said.
Everyone sang his “carol,” filling the kitchen with the words, “He lives, my kind, wise heav’nly Friend. He lives and loves me to the end.”
That day became a treasure and started a family tradition of Christmas Day service we enjoy. And, out of all the carols we sing at Christmastime, Harry’s carol is our favorite and the finest way to get a twinkle in any of our eyes.
By the way, my dad says we still sound the best in kitchens.

A few years passed, and a worthy priesthood holder asked me to marry him in the temple. I said yes, and we were later blessed with three children—two girls and one boy. One of our greatest joys was when our son left for his mission. A spirit of comfort and peace filled our home. It seemed to me that a portion of my longing to serve a mission had been filled.
I was excited when my eldest daughter said she also wanted to serve a mission. Every week in the mission field, she sent me stories of her work. Her testimony inspired me and filled me with the missionary spirit. I prayed for missionary opportunities every day.
One day, I was inspired to ask a friend through a private message on social media if she would be interested in meeting with the missionaries. She said, “Yes!” I filled out an online referral form on LDS.org, and soon the missionaries began to teach her. In three months she joined the Church. Her children followed a few months later. As the Spirit directed me, I invited other friends to listen to the missionaries. When my daughter came home, I too felt that I had completed 18 months of missionary service.
Heavenly Father knew the desires of my heart and what was best for my family and me. I am grateful He granted my desire to serve as a missionary, which had dwelt in my heart for so long.

I like the story about Mary Ann Freeze, a stake leader of Young Women many years ago. Her health was always very poor, and so one day all the members of her board and all the young women of the stake fasted and prayed for her. She felt the strength of their love and prayers. That night she wrote in her journal: “I told them that I always knew I was beloved of them, but never to what an extent before. We all felt that that experience had created a more powerful bond of love between us.”

In February 2017, my sister, and best friend, Sharon Mabuku, passed away while I was in boarding school. My twin brother and I received a message from the vice principal that our parents wanted to meet us on the way home. Most of our classmates walked with us to the school gate. They knew of the sad news about the death of my sister though they never told us that they knew. Instead, they only put on smiling faces.
The journey back home was not one to remember. We stopped at a small town called Mvuma because of a funeral car that overtook, and stopped, in front of the car we boarded. Suddenly I saw my father coming out of that same car. He walked to the car we were in and paid the driver. In a few minutes, a bus came by, and my father, with a sad face and red eyes full of tears, asked if we could get onto the bus. Tears started to stream down our faces as we boarded the bus and sat down by my mother. She then told us, “Be like men my children, be strong. She is gone.”
I cried because I was not able to see my sister during the viewing. Questions started to flow into my mind: Does God really exist? If so, why did He not answer our prayers? Instead, God answered my sister’s prayer when she cried, “Father, take my soul, I’m in pain.”
After that cry, everyone who was in the room stopped praying and saw Sharon pass away.

Over 25 years ago, while serving as bishop of the Aix-en-Provence Ward and working for Seminaries and Institutes, I met Sophronia, who had come from Tahiti to study in France. She was a young adult with solid gospel knowledge, having grown up in the Church. It was therefore disconcerting when she came into my office to announce she would no longer be attending church. I hoped it would be temporary but, indeed, she carried out her wish, and I never saw her again. For more than 20 years, Sophronia led a life distant from the gospel.
In 2024, when my wife and I arrived on our mission in Tahiti, we were delighted to see her again—and even happier to learn she had returned to the Church two years earlier. She shared what prompted her return:
“You have to know that throughout my time away from the Church, I kept my testimony of the gospel and had a deep desire for my daughter, Kahaili, to grow up as I had—in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I wanted her to know that God lives, that He loves her, and that He has a plan for her to return to live with Him and her family if she kept His commandments. Yet I didn’t want to return to church myself. Quite contradictory, wasn’t it?
“Kahaili occasionally attended meetings with my mother, but this sporadic attendance wouldn’t adequately prepare her for baptism. In 2022, when Kahaili was six and a half, I realized we only had a year and a half to prepare. I say ‘we’ because this process meant I would have to become involved personally, not relying on my mother or anyone else.
“I asked her, ‘Kahaili, do you want to be baptized when you turn eight?’
“Without hesitation, she replied, ‘Yes, Mom, I want to be baptized!’
“Her enthusiasm amazed me, and in that outpouring of fervor, I found the courage to make the sacrifice and return to church.
“We attended that first Sunday alone. But soon after, my husband, Cyril (although not a member of the Church), joined us, feeling his place was with us. When Kahaili expressed her desire for her father to baptize her, I responded with a forced smile, ‘Well, ask your daddy. You never know!’—not believing for a moment it could happen. Her father replied, ‘If I can, my daughter, I will.’”
The Lord then intervened in Cyril’s life. His conversion came through reading Ether 12:4: “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.”
This scripture about hope becoming an anchor resonated deeply with Cyril as he recalled nearly drowning in the Tuamotus lagoon years earlier. While he was fishing, his boat had drifted away when its anchor came loose. Despite swimming desperately to catch up, he grew exhausted. Miraculously, the boat’s anchor caught on a coral formation, stopping the boat so he could reach it. Cyril still describes this as a miracle that saved his life.
Like a rebirth, Cyril was baptized on March 28, 2024—his 50th birthday. The following month, he baptized Kahaili. The crowning moment came on April 12, 2025, when Sophronia, Cyril, and Kahaili were sealed in the Papeete Tahiti Temple. We had the privilege of attending this sacred ceremony.
I share this story to testify that there is always hope when family members stray from the Church. Even if it takes a quarter century, through faith in Jesus Christ, a miracle is always possible.

My father-in-law crossed a strip of desert on horseback as a young man—sixty miles with no water. He planned to meet a wagon train midway to replenish his water, but they were delayed two days in starting and he met no one else. His tongue swelled up, his throat was parched, his dog died, and the horse keeled over. He thought he was going to die. He finally made it, but, in listening to the story, I can feel the intense, agonizing, thirsting desperation for moisture, just like a man held under water gasps for air.

Another mother read gospel stories to her children from a young, formative age. Once, as she read of the crucifixion of the Savior, her two-and-a-half-year-old son sobbed. She realized that he was a spiritually sensitive child. Through the years that child has become a righteous, disciplined young man who loves the Lord and keeps His commandments. Profanity, so prevalent today, is particularly offensive to him. As he shuns it and other evils, he is criticized for being too “churchy.” While it is difficult now, as he continues his resolve to be righteous, he will become a powerfully strong husband, father, and leader.