Gospel Story Finder

On her way to school, Meg passed the snow-encrusted vacant lot next door. Spotting a crumpled foil candy wrapper under a scraggly shrub, she stooped to retrieve it. Cut into strips, the foil could be used as icicles for their Christmas tree. “If we have a tree,” she muttered.
Dad had lost his job at the plant and in searching for work had moved the family to this new town. They had left many things behind in storage, including their Christmas tree decorations. “It’ll be a lean Christmas,” Dad had tried to prepare them one night after Jenny had been tucked into bed. “There’ll be no need for decorations because there won’t be a tree. I’m sorry.”
Meg had cried. No tree! It would be especially sad, she knew, for her sister, Jenny, who was in kindergarten.
Now Meg pulled her coat tighter against the cold. Longingly she eyed the big pines in the yard next to the vacant lot, then hurried on to school.
That afternoon when she got home, Meg hung her coat on a hook behind the kitchen door and removed the foil from her pocket. She’d smoothed the wrinkles from it and was cutting it into thin strips when Ryan, her younger brother, came in.
“Sort of short icicles aren’t they?” he said. “Anyway, what are you going to use for a tree?”
“I’ll think of something,” Meg answered.
“Su-u-re!” said Ryan.
“The yard on the other side of the vacant lot has beautiful pine trees,” Meg said slowly, putting the strips into a box with others she had collected.
“So? Are you figuring on cutting one down?” Ryan stirred the soup Mom had put on to simmer before going to get Jenny from kindergarten. He licked the spoon, washed it, and went into the living room.
Meg followed. She bustled about, arranging the white knit lap robe on the couch to hide the worn places. “Since Dad’s temporary job is at night, sometime after Mom goes to bed, we could slip over there and cut a few limbs from one of those trees. If we tied the branches together, they’d make a cute little Christmas tree for Jenny.”
Ryan stared at her. “That would be stealing!”
“What’s wrong with people sharing with you?”
“Sis, it isn’t sharing when people don’t know you’re taking.”
Meg sighed. “I know. I just want a tree for Jenny so bad. …” She was setting the table when Mom came in with Jenny.
“Look what I made at school today.” Jenny proudly held up an angel for them to admire. It was made from a straight wooden clothespin. Its robe, a scrap of white satin, was draped over pipe-cleaner arms. A string of tiny glass beads gathered the robe at the waist.
“See the halo?” Jenny turned the angel to show gold braid against white yarn hair. “Miss Grant said we could bring ours home for our Christmas trees.”
“It’s beautiful!” Meg looked meaningfully at Ryan over Jenny’s head.
She didn’t mention the tree to Ryan again, but Meg thought of it constantly. One day after an art project, she found some fat, fuzzy red and green yarn scraps in the wastebasket. She took them home. A week before Christmas a friend gave her a package of assorted fruit-flavored candies. She saved those too.
Every day Jenny asked why they didn’t have a tree. “All the other kids have told about their trees at Show and Tell,” she complained one day after supper.
“Don’t worry Jenny,” Meg said comfortingly. “We’ll soon have a tree—I promise.”
Mom shook her head sadly as Jenny went to bed early. “I’m going to bed too. Don’t stay up late, you two.”
Meg gathered the dishes from the table while Ryan took care of the food. “I’m getting Jenny a tree tonight, Ryan. Are you coming?”
“Sis, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Jenny needs a Christmas tree, and I promised her one.”
As soon as she was sure that Mom was asleep, Meg got her coat.
Ryan slipped into his jacket, too, and got his Scout knife. “I’ll cut—you carry the limbs.”
Rain turning to sleet stung Meg’s face as they crept past the vacant lot under the dim glow of the streetlights.
They paused outside the yard next to the vacant lot. When Ryan pushed open the gate, the hinges creaked. Meg’s heart thumped painfully in her throat.
Under a thick pine, Ryan reached for a wet branch. The wind was forcing icy rain down Meg’s neck. She suddenly sobbed, “We can’t do this, Ryan! You’re right. It isn’t sharing if people don’t know you’re taking.”
With Ryan following her, she stumbled up the steps to the house and knocked hard on the door. The door opened, and a man stood in the soft light. “What in the world are you kids doing out on a night like this?”
Trembling, Meg told about how Dad had lost his job and how Jenny needed a Christmas tree.
Ryan stammered a request to cut a couple of pine boughs to make a Christmas tree for his little sister.
“I’d be glad to give you some boughs for your sister,” said the man. He grabbed his coat, got some pruning shears from his garage, and went into the yard. Soon both children’s arms were filled with fragrant pine boughs.
With many thanks, Meg and Ryan left.
At home, they wired the branches together. They made a perfect little tree! Meg found a fat green vase for it and set it on a small table. She put Jenny’s angel on the topmost bough, then she and Ryan used snips of green and red yarn to hang the candies Meg had saved. Ryan draped longer lengths of yarn around the tree in splendid garlands, while Meg hung her foil icicles. “I wish we had something to put around the bottom,” she said.
Grinning, Ryan took the lap robe from the couch and handed it to her with a flourish.
Meg draped it gracefully around the bottom of the vase. She and Ryan sat and admired the tree for a while.
Ryan soon yawned and went to bed, but Meg sat still, thinking how the tree, with its angel on top, was a reminder of the birthday of Jesus. Suddenly she had the most wonderful feeling. It was more than the good feeling of having kept her promise to Jenny—it was a feeling that everything would be all right.

Early in 1846, when Henry was 17, the Saints had to leave Nauvoo. For the wagon trek across Iowa, Jonathan C. Wright hired Henry to be a chore boy and drive an ox team. Henry liked this job, except for Brother Wright’s restriction that Henry walk his horses but never run or race them.
While Henry was camped with the Wrights at Council Bluffs, Iowa, a United States army recruiter arrived. “I had told my comrades that he would not get a man,” Henry said. But President Brigham Young called a meeting in a brush-covered bowery and asked that 500 men enlist in the Mormon Battalion for the Mexican War. Henry felt impressed to answer the call, so he joined the army. Mr. Wright, upset at losing his hired hand, “was wrathy and said that I could not go.” But Henry went. He was not yet 18, as required by the government, “but as I had nearly got my growth in height I passed without difficulty.”
The next summer, when he was 18, he left California, where the Mormon Battalion had completed its march, and entered the Great Salt Lake Valley just after the 1847 pioneers arrived. Wanting to rejoin his family, he returned east with Brigham Young’s company late that same year to the Winter Quarters area.

On August 10, 1848, the year after the pioneers reached the valley, they held a special harvest festival to give thanks for good crops despite the crickets that had almost eaten all of their tender gardens in the month of June.
A bowery was built in the center of the little city and underneath its shade, tables were piled high with vegetables, fruits, and grains. Green peas had grown especially well, and also on the tables were cucumbers, squash, beets, carrots, corn, beans, parsnips, and buttermilk.
A liberty pole was raised. On it hung a white flag, an ear of corn, and sheaves of wheat, rye, and oats.
Sister M. I. Lamson told about the celebration in a letter to a friend:
“There were firing of cannons, band of music, a number of cheers and the harvest song sung, prayer by Brother Parley P. Pratt, speaking by several. All made ready and a bugle sounded, a blessing asked, and when done eating, bugle again. Then the table [was] taken away, dancing commenced.”
What an exciting day it must have been for those pioneers who had been driven from their homes and endured all the hardships of crossing the plains.
On that first Thanksgiving Day, called the Harvest Festival, celebrated by the Mormon pioneers there were prayers of thanksgiving, songs, speeches, music, dancing, smiling faces, and merry hearts.

On May 15 of this year, an event occurred in our home that is repeated literally hundreds of times per week in Latter-day Saint homes throughout the Church. After a period of anxious anticipation, a letter from the prophet containing a mission call for our son Bradley arrived. This was the third such letter that we have received in our family, but each time really is the first time. The letter arrived on a day when mission business had me away from home, so the unopened letter sat on Brad’s desk in the mission home in Vienna, Austria, until late that night. Finally the moment arrived, and we were all gathered together—Mom, Dad, younger brother Stephen, and, of course, Bradley.
As in many families, there is also a sort of tradition in our family that accompanies the opening of a mission call. Each of us handled the envelope, turning it in our hands and holding it up to the light as if we could somehow discern its contents. Each of us took a piece of paper and recorded our own predictions for Bradley’s call: Japan, New Zealand, and France. Then there was the inevitable fumbling at opening the envelope, extending the excitement for all of us. The letter was at last in Brad’s hands: “Dear Elder Neuenschwander, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Poland Warsaw Mission.”
Tears flow easily at such moments, perhaps for different reasons. Mom’s eyes are moist at the thought of another son leaving the nest and facing the world. Dad recalls so vividly a day long ago when he received his call to serve in Finland. Stephen understands that this last departure of older brothers means that he will finally be the oldest at home, but his tears also mean a quiet commitment that his letter will not be far behind.
There were phone calls to returned missionary brothers at home in America, each happy but playfully disappointed that Brad’s call was not to New Mexico or Munich, where they had served. Grandparents were thrilled that yet another grandson was worthy to serve the Lord.
Busy days of preparation began. July 10 came all too soon, and it was time for Brad to leave. Bidding farewell to a missionary son, as many of you know, at the MTC definitely does not get easier with practice.
In our quiet moments, Brad and I spoke of his mission. For four years he had watched missionaries come and go through the mission home. Some had even gone to Poland. Yet there are things I would share with him and with you as this great missionary experience now becomes his.
Your mission will be exactly what you decide to make it. Your excellent mission president, President Whipple, and good missionary companions will help you along the way, but keep in mind that you are the central and decisive factor in the success of your own mission. Your young but strong shoulders bear the responsibility of the call you willingly and happily accepted. You have seen missionaries in a variety of countries and circumstances. You have also observed that in rather similar situations one missionary is successful, another a little less so. The difference lay in the attitude and desire of the individual missionary. Make the inevitable challenges of missionary work stepping stones for your own spiritual growth. Determine now that nothing will keep you from magnifying with honor your missionary call.
As most missionaries, Brad, you come from school years, rich in their variety of choice and activity. But your success as a missionary will depend, in part, on your ability to simplify your life and focus on the purpose of your call. You now move from a life centered on your own needs to one concerned with the welfare of others. Some missionaries struggle, not wanting to let go of the past and consequently never fully committing themselves to the labor at hand. There is no way a successful missionary can have one foot in the world and one in his missionary labors. Successful missionaries make that transition. They leave behind everything that may distract them from their primary purpose. Resist bringing extra luggage with you into the mission field, both in your suitcase and in your mind.
Whatever calling you hold in the Church, someone will always preside over you. That person will teach and encourage you in your responsibilities. Brad, be wise enough and humble enough to learn from them. Elder Boyd K. Packer taught us new mission presidents in 1987 that if we would learn to be silent, the Brethren could teach us a lot. I considered it good advice, and I have learned since that in the mission field, as well as in all Church callings, a person who can be taught is also one who can be trusted.
Mission rules are important in the same way commandments are important. We all need to keep them, understanding that they give us strength, direction, and limits. The smart missionary will learn the intent of the rules and make them work for him. Your mission is a time of discipline and single-minded focus. You will be required to go without some things common to your current life-style: music, TV, videos, novels, even girls. There is nothing wrong with any of these things, Brad, but then again, there is nothing wrong with food either, unless you are fasting, in which case even a teaspoon of water is improper.
Missionaries sometimes feel they need doctrinal reference books to enhance their understanding of the gospel. Believe me, Brad, they are not necessary for your gospel study in the mission field. Make the scriptures the basic doctrinal textbook of your mission. The Lord has told his elders: “Teach the children of men the things which I have put into your hands by the power of my Spirit;
“And ye are to be taught from on high. Sanctify yourselves and ye shall be endowed with power, that ye may give even as I have spoken” (D&C 43:15–16).
You will find the Lord to be a man of his word. The promise he extends to you as a missionary is true.
There are few men in the Church who are referred to as “Elder,” but one is you—a full-time missionary. Respect that title, Brad; refer to it with reverence. Many men have brought honor to it, including your brothers. You do the same.
The real success of a mission is not measured on a chart—it is etched in your heart and in the hearts of those whose lives are eternally changed because of you. Share your testimony often. I have seen nothing in a missionary that exerts more power and positive influence than the bearing of pure and simple testimony. Your testimony is the first step in the conversion of those whom you teach. Have courage to invite others to change their lives and come to Christ through obedience to the principles and ordinances of the gospel.
The Lord taught the Nephites: “Now this is the commandment: Repent, all ye ends of the earth, and come unto me and be baptized in my name, that ye may be sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost, that ye may stand spotless before me at the last day.
“Verily, verily, I say unto you, this is my gospel” (3 Ne. 27:20–21).
Bless the lives of others with your priesthood and your presence.
Brad, love every minute of your service to those wonderful Polish people. Love their country, their food, customs, language, and heritage. They will enrich your life and understanding.
The work in which you are engaged is true. You are teaching the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. It is the promise of salvation to all who will listen and accept your message. Of this I bear my witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I am thinking of the kinds of confidence expressed by President Tanner in a story he told in General Conference several years ago. I will relate it in his own words:

Some years ago in Canada I was driving along and had two young men with me in my car, and a young man thumbed a ride with us. I asked the boys who were with me if we should take him with us, and they said yes. I picked him up, and after we had driven along a little way he said, “Do you mind if I smoke in your car?”

I said, “No, not at all if you can give me any good reason why you should smoke.” And I said, “I will go farther than that.” (I was stake president at this time.) “If you can give me a good reason why you should smoke, I will smoke with you.” Well, my two young friends looked at me and wondered.

We drove on for some distance, about twenty minutes, I think, and I turned around and said, “Aren’t you going to smoke?”

And he said, “No.”

I said, “Why not?”

And he said, “I can’t think of a good reason why I should.” [CR, April 1965, p. 93]

A handsome young man, obviously a football player, told of how his testimony had been strengthened through association with fine, faithful friends, most of them a year older than he. Graduating from high school and soon to be separated from one another, they had a “last fling” together, a visit to the lovely grounds of the Provo Temple. Then they went to a quiet spot where in the late evening hours 12 future leaders of the Church bore their testimonies of the divinity of the gospel and expressed their love for one another.

At school, all of my friends were causing drama. They were fighting with each other, lying, and backstabbing. They tried to make everyone choose sides. There was a lot of conflict. I became very confused, so I turned to God by praying and fasting. I came to the conclusion that I needed different friends—friends who wouldn’t put me in difficult situations. But I was so afraid. I didn’t know how I could get new friends. But the more I thought about it, the more confident I felt that I could find new friends and move on.

I received answers in different ways. My family gave me advice. I also tried hanging out with new people and realized that I felt different with them. Since then I’ve been happier and more joyful. I’ve discovered more friends who help me feel great. I believe that when we follow God’s will, we can receive greater blessings and do greater things. Everything will work out in His plan.
Mekeli H., Colorado, USA

I was a little stressed out. It was seventh period, and by the end of school I had to turn in my biography, which would be read to 500 of my classmates at a prom assembly. What did other people honestly want to hear about me? I wasn’t popular like everyone else selected for the honor of being on the prom court. Did anyone really care?
Suddenly, a girl named Sammy piped up, “Shelby, you’re a funny guy! Just be yourself.”
Then Derek chimed in, “You’re always talking about your church. Why don’t you say something about that?”
Jokingly I responded, “Why don’t I just offer everyone a free Book of Mormon? That would be a bit different.”
Everyone laughed and dared me into actually doing it.
I scribbled something down and read it to my classmates. They laughed and said they liked it. So, I turned it in.
The day of the assembly came, and I was a bit nervous. I didn’t exactly hang out with the “popular crowd” on the weekends. Most of the kids on stage had been royalty on multiple occasions, and they acted like it was routine. I sat back and casually tried to fit in.
Before I knew it my senior class began filing into the auditorium. The class president took care of some class business and then started introducing the prom court. I sat, nervous and excited, up on the stage and listened as the other biographies were read. The girls stood up one by one and were escorted by guys from the court. They walked into the aisles of the auditorium while someone continued to read their biographies as they made their way around the auditorium and back to the stage.
Then my turn came. I escorted a girl and headed for the aisle. I could hardly take the anticipation as I waited for them to get to the part about the Book of Mormon. How was everyone going to react? What would people say about me?
I finally heard the announcer read, “One of the most important things to him is his church. Speaking of which, if anyone would like a free copy of the Book of Mormon, feel free to call him or just ask him, and he’ll be more than happy to get you a copy.”
There was a slight snicker in the crowd. Some church members might have thought, “If only they knew he wasn’t joking!” or maybe, “Shelby’s gone a bit overboard this time.” Other kids may have groaned, thinking, “There he goes again. He’s always talking about his church.”
There were, however, a couple of students who took notice. Three friends came up to me during that next week and asked if they could have a copy of the Book of Mormon. I don’t know who was more surprised when I asked for three copies of the Book of Mormon—the missionaries or me. I made sure all three of my friends got a copy and offered to have the missionaries teach them. Only one of my friends, Joel, said yes.
Joel started coming over to my house a couple times a week to meet with the missionaries. It was really fun. The missionaries were such good teachers. The things they taught about—the Apostasy, the Restoration, and the Book of Mormon—just made so much sense. Joel seemed to agree.
One day the conversation moved to baptism. The missionaries turned and looked at Joel and said, “Joel, will you follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and be baptized by someone holding the proper priesthood authority?”
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. My mind started racing. What in the world had I done? Missionaries were talking to my friend about baptism! What would he say or think? Would this affect our relationship forever? All I could do was sit and eagerly await his response.
Joel paused, looked at the missionaries, and said, “That’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Yes. I think it’s something I want to do.”
I really liked what I was hearing. Joel continued to take lessons at my house and was eventually baptized.
Looking back, I wish I had been a better missionary in high school. It’s so easy. All I did was randomly ask if anyone wanted a Book of Mormon. Three kids took me up on the offer, and one was baptized.
While sharing the gospel can be easy, it is also a skill. That skill will only come through prayer, scripture study, talking with more experienced members, and plain old practice. All the Lord expects of us is our best. It is His work. We need to pray for those experiences and then follow the Spirit and open our mouths when those opportunities come.
After seeing the excitement missionary work can cause, I want to to share the gospel with people for the rest of my life.

“We think Australia is the greatest!” said Bill Foggle as he and the other young Latter-day Saints rushed to explain some of the unique and unusual facts about their homeland and its inhabitants.
Young Latter-day Saints in Sydney often meet together to do service projects, work on the local Church welfare farms, participate in sports, and see the sights of their fair city. On this Saturday the young people met at the famous Sydney Opera House, then took the ferryboat across the harbour to Taronga Zoo, where they laughed at the animals’ antics and lunched on meat pies and chips.
From the zoo, the young people caught another boat ride back to the Rocks area on the western shore of Sydney Cove. Here they caught a glimpse of the very early colonial life of the city. After a walk under the bridge and a stop at the Argyle Center to see some aboriginal art and shops featuring Australian sheepskins, pottery, and needlework, the day was gone. Bill and his friends had to hustle back to the opera house parking lot where everyone said their good-byes and ta-ta’s and went their separate ways for home.

I was enjoying my full-time mission in the beautiful mountains of Cajamarca, Peru, when my father suddenly suffered a stroke. Shortly afterward, he was gone.
When I met with my mission president, I wept as I remembered that my dad had taught me what it means to be a missionary and a man of integrity. He had written me each week, sharing his testimony, teaching me powerful gospel insights, and encouraging me to do my best.
After our meeting, the mission president handed me a letter—the last one from my father. His letter reached into my future, giving me words that meant the world to me:
“You have another [mission] coming in a few months—a most difficult mission, where you will be counted on to dedicate your life to the principles you have taught, to doing the things which, up to this point, you have only preached. It can be the most productive mission. You are like the leaven in the loaf. …
“We love you and pray for you daily. Work hard and do the right things.”
As I read his words, I cried—for sorrow, knowing they were his last words to me in this life, and for joy, knowing their power and purpose for me. I knew that my next mission—the rest of my life—would mean everything. It would be a time of true testing, and it would require all that I had learned and experienced as a missionary.
I know that Heavenly Father has a deeply purposeful plan for each of us. He can elevate our moments on earth and give us eyes to see and know His truth. I’ve seen this as I’ve committed my life to Him and experienced His blessings. And I’ve seen this as my beautiful wife and I have worked together to build a family filled with hopes, children, and the gospel.
The Savior has brought us strength as we’ve gone to our knees, to the scriptures, to the temple, and to others in service. I’ve seen the Lord’s hand unfold during amazing moments in my life as I’ve shared the gospel with family and friends.
His mission is “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). That mission truly does continue.

Welfare services missionaries were assigned by the branch president to visit the home of every newly baptized family. In carrying out this assignment, the missionaries often found emergency teaching situations.

For example, one day upon entering the home of a newly baptized member, they were greeted by the mother, who invited them to sit own and then began to cry. Her baby was sick. Its stomach was badly bloated.

Upon investigation, it was found that the child had never had anything to eat except flour and water or powdered milk. For eight months the mother had been afraid to give the baby any other food because it was so sick, and it was sick because it was starving!

The missionaries taught the mother how to include cereals, fruits, and vegetables in the child’s diet. Now the child is on the road to normal health.

Brothers and sisters, I rejoice with you in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I bring with me love from the resilient members in the Philippines and say, on their behalf, Mabuhay!
On this Easter morning, I testify of the living Christ, that He rose from the dead and that His love for us and for our Father in Heaven is pure and eternal. Today, I desire to focus on the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ for all, which is manifest through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son” (John 3:16).
When the prophet Nephi was asked by an angel about his knowledge of God, Nephi responded simply, “I know that he loveth his children” (see 1 Nephi 11:16–17).
A verse from the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ powerfully describes the Savior’s perfect love: “And the world, because of their iniquity, shall judge him to be a thing of naught; … they scourge him, … they smite him, … they spit upon him, and he suffereth it, because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men” (1 Nephi 19:9). The Savior’s universal love is the motivating force behind all that He does. We know that it is the same love our Father in Heaven has for us, because the Savior humbly taught that He and the Father “are one” (see John 10:30; 17:20–23).
How, then, do we reciprocate and show our gratitude for Their universal love? The Savior taught us with this simple, all-encompassing invitation: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
President Dallin H. Oaks taught, “God’s universal and perfect love is shown in all the blessings of His gospel plan, including the fact that His choicest blessings are reserved for those who obey His laws.”
I would like to share three specific ways our Heavenly Father manifests His love for us, His children.
Our most valuable relationships are with the Father and the Son and with our own families because our ties to them are eternal. The great plan of happiness is a wonderful manifestation of God’s love for us. With eyes riveted on God’s plan, we willingly choose to carve out soil and rocks within us that support selfish desires and replace them with foundations that build eternal relationships. In a sense, this can be called “spiritual excavation.” In performing our spiritual excavation, we must first seek after God and call upon Him (see Jeremiah 29:12–13).
Seeking after Him and calling upon Him will begin the process and provide space to build and strengthen our eternal relationships. It broadens our spiritual view and helps us focus on changing what we can control rather than on fears outside our control. Studying the life and ministry of our Savior, Jesus Christ, will enable us to view these other concerns with an eternal perspective.
Distractions can sometimes prevent us from experiencing God’s love in our family relationships and activities. A mother, feeling that gadgets were taking over her family relationships, came up with a solution. At the dinner table and at other family times, she just calls out, “Phones on the deck; let us have face time.” She says that this is the new norm for their family and that it strengthens their relationship as a family when they have real face time. They now enjoy quality Come, Follow Me discussions together as a family.
Our current world is deluged in a “war of words and tumult of opinions” (Joseph Smith—History 1:10). Paul reminds us that “there are … so many kinds of voices in the world” (1 Corinthians 14:10). Which of all the voices rise clearly and meaningfully above the fray? It is the voice of God’s prophets, seers, and revelators.
I remember vividly, after undergoing surgery in 2018 and upon returning to work, I was in the parking garage at Church headquarters. Suddenly, I heard the voice of President Russell M. Nelson calling, “Taniela, Taniela.” I ran toward him, and he asked how I was doing.
I said, “I am recovering very well, President Nelson.”
He gave me counsel and a hug. I truly felt the personal ministry of a prophet to the “one.”
President Nelson has traveled to many nations of the earth. In my mind, he is not just ministering to thousands, but he is ministering to thousands of “ones.” In doing so, he shares the love God has for all His children.
Recently, the words of President Nelson have been a source of strength and inspiration to the people of the Philippines. As with every country in the world, during 2020 the Philippines was severely affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as a volcanic eruption, earthquakes, strong typhoons, and devastating floods.
But like a pillar of light shining through dark clouds of fear, loneliness, and despair came the words of the prophet. They included the call for worldwide fasting and prayer and counsel to move forward despite the pandemic. He invited us to make our homes personal sanctuaries of faith. He called upon Latter-day Saints everywhere to respect all of God’s children and to let God prevail in our lives.
Likewise stirring were President Nelson’s recent video testimony about the power of gratitude and his concluding prayer, which resonated across the Philippines. In the province of Leyte, the video was played during an interfaith event, and it was also mentioned as part of a priest’s homily. The Philippines, along with the entire world, are so blessed to feel God’s love through the words of His chosen prophet.
Sometimes God manifests His love by chastening us. It is a way of reminding us that He loves us and that He knows who we are. His promised blessing of peace is open to all those who courageously walk the covenant path and are willing to receive correction.
When we recognize the chastening and are willing recipients, it becomes a spiritual surgery. Who likes surgery, by the way? But to those who need it and are willing to receive it, it can be lifesaving. The Lord chastens whom He loves. The scriptures tell us so (see Hebrews 12:5–11; Helaman 12:3; Doctrine and Covenants 1:27; 95:1). That chastening, or spiritual surgery, will bring about needed change in our lives. We will realize, brothers and sisters, that it refines and purifies our inner vessels.
Joseph Smith, the Prophet of the Restoration, was chastened. After Joseph lost the 116 pages of the Book of Mormon manuscript, the Lord both corrected and showed love by saying: “You should not have feared man more than God. … You should have been faithful. … Behold, thou art Joseph, and thou wast chosen. … Remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent” (Doctrine and Covenants 3:7–10).
In 2016, while serving a mission in Little Rock, Arkansas, I asked Brother Cava to deliver a package to my older sister, who lived on an island in Fiji. His response was not something that I had anticipated. “President Wakolo,” he groaned, “your sister passed away and was buried 10 days ago.” I had self-pity and even felt a little upset that my family did not even bother to let me know.
The next day, while my wife was teaching missionaries, this thought penetrated my soul: “Taniela, all these experiences are for your own good and development. You have been teaching and sharing your testimony about the Atonement of Jesus Christ; now live accordingly.” I was reminded that “happy is the man whom God correct[s]: therefore [we should] despise not … the chastening of the Almighty” (Job 5:17). It was a spiritual surgery for me, and the outcome was immediate.
Just as I was contemplating the experience, I was called upon to give my concluding thoughts to the discussion. Among other things, I shared the lessons that I had just been taught: one, I had just been chastened by the Holy Ghost, and I loved it because I was the only one who heard it; two, because of the Savior’s sacrifice and ransom, I will no longer refer to my challenges as trials and tribulations but as my learning experiences; and three, because of His perfect and sinless life, I will no longer refer to my shortcomings and lack of abilities as weaknesses but rather as my development opportunities. This experience helped me know that God chastens us because He loves us.
I conclude. Our Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, show Their love by making it possible for us to have eternal relationships with Them and our family members, by calling modern-day prophets to teach and minister to us, and by chastening us to help us learn and grow. “God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son,” our resurrected Lord, even the living Christ. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I never knew that becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would negatively affect my relationship with family members. I joined the Church two months after getting a new job. My first day attending church was the day a friend invited me to help her with her baby as she was going to be baptized.
The moment I stepped into the chapel, I felt peace, comfort, and joy in my heart, and I knew that I belonged here and that the search for the right church had come to an end. I started reading the pamphlets from a friend and later booked appointments with the missionaries and I got baptized after a couple of weeks of learning with the missionaries.
However, because my family has been staunch Anglicans, I hid my new identity of being a member of the Church until I read a scripture in Romans 1:16, which says that “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ”. This scripture gave me a sense of direction, and I said to myself that I need not to be ashamed of the gospel if I have joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I started changing everything on my social media accounts to say that I am a member of the Church. Even though people contacted me about what they were seeing on the accounts, I proudly replied to each one that I have joined the Lord’s church and that I love it and I know that it is true.
Not long after, it was time to serve a mission. I received my call to the Ghana Cape Coast Mission. I proudly shared the news with my family, and they were happy for me, and I thought all was well with the family about my decision to serve. But a few days before mission, my family was still opposed to my decision and requested that I postpone my mission instead of leaving in December 2019, to go in 2020. It became evident that my family was unhappy with my decision to go on a mission. I knew that the God I serve lives, He knows me, and He had called me to serve Him and that the time is now or never.
I needed to make a choice between my family and my mission. I was stuck, but I prayed fervently and amidst all that was happening, I stood firm with unwavering and unshakable faith knowing that He can see me through those trying moments.
The Lord comforted me at that time, and I knew that I was not alone, and He was there for me. I felt at peace even though things had not been settled between me and my family and with less than 24 hours left, the family accepted my decision to go and serve and I was able to leave for my mission. My family has embraced my service and I am happily serving my mission with love and a cheerful heart, knowing that all things are possible with God if we look unto Him in every thought, fearing not and doubting not with faith that whatever you ask you will receive.
You either stand with God and are condemned by man or stand with man and are condemned by God. If you know the truth and you put your faith first, you can find joy in your challenges because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I know that faith can move mountains and make the impossible possible.

In my earlier years of marriage, I found myself asking these questions and was discouraged by what I perceived to be the answers. Although my husband was an excellent father, I often felt irritated and angry. I wanted him to fit the image of what I thought he should be. I had certain ideals and goals that I wanted implanted in him.

One day, I turned to my father for advice. Because of his training as a psychiatrist, I knew he wouldn’t be too critical of his son-in-law. His first words were like a bucket of cold water over me: “Martha, if you continue like this, you could drive your husband away.”

My jaw dropped. “What do you mean by that?” I asked. This wasn’t going at all as I had expected.

He held up his hand to ward off my indignation. “Just let me explain. Not long ago, I counseled a Latter-day Saint woman who had left a basically good marriage. She felt her husband wasn’t living all the Church standards. Years of nagging and pleading hadn’t changed him. She thought that if she left him, he would change his ways in order to win her back. She never suspected that he would find someone else who loved and respected him as he was. He remarried happily after their divorce, and she was devastated.”

Why am I getting this lecture? I wondered. I had never considered leaving my husband. “Are you saying I should just quit being assertive and forget my own ideals?” I asked defensively.

“No, I’m saying lead but don’t drive. Be gentle in your persuasion while recognizing his strengths and achievements. Be an example without criticizing. In your rush to achieve your goals, you may be sending a silent message that he’s not good enough for you. He’s a good man, Martha, and he needs to know that you think so, too.”

I sat, unable to speak as tears welled in my eyes. I was torn. I understood my father’s words, but I expected my husband to be what I had always dreamed of.

My father tried a different approach. “Have you heard the story about the farmer who hitched two mice to his wagon? His neighbor saw him climbing into the wagon and laughed at the farmer. ‘You don’t really expect those two little mice to pull that wagon, do you?’ he asked. The farmer replied, ‘Why not? I have a whip.’”

I laughed in spite of myself. The image of me in the wagon was clear. I had been using anger and resentment as my whip, with just about the same chance for success.

“Okay, I guess I am being too pushy,” I said. “But I see other men who lead the way I want to be led. Is it wrong to expect that?”

Dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “You are going about this with the wrong attitude. One of the most treacherous developments in any marriage is when partners wonder if they made the right choice. The marriage begins to fall apart because they quit working at it.”

“Dad,” I interrupted, “it’s because I love him that I get discouraged. I want him to reach his full potential.”

“It’s all a matter of loyalty. Do you realize that disloyalty begins with your thoughts—that you are actually being disloyal when you compare your husband to others?”

I was losing my argument fast, and I knew it. I tried one more time: “My commitment to him is eternal. The day-to-day choices he makes as the priesthood leader affect the family eternally.”

“Patience and love are eternal, too.” He opened his scriptures and read: “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;

“By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile” (D&C 121:41–42).

I knew these verses. They were written for priesthood holders about exercising unrighteous dominion. Why was he reading them to me?

“These two verses,” he explained, “contain the elements for success in any relationship—and especially the relationship between husband and wife. One of the great challenges in marriage is to accept all the differences in personality, background, and motivation—and to work toward being one in purpose. That’s no easy task, and it may take a lifetime. But as you pointed out, marriage is an eternal commitment.”

Then he told me about a farmer he had known when he was a boy. The man used to catch wild horses in northern Arizona. They were free and available to anyone who wanted to catch them, but they were difficult to tame and train. Late at night, he would round up part of the herd into a temporary corral near the watering hole. Then he would select the best one and tie one end of a cotton rope around its neck and the other end to his strong white mule, leaving just enough space for them to travel side by side. Then he would leave them in the desert to work out their own compromises.

The mule knew the way home and would gladly travel in that direction. If the horse tried to go another way, the mule would stand firm and not go. If the mule got off track, the horse would be unwilling to move. So it went until they had worked through their differences. Within two weeks, the two would come trotting home to food and shelter. The horse would be ready for training, and it and the mule would behave as though they had been together all their lives. Dad added, “I almost left out the most important part: that rope around their necks was a very soft rope.”

I began to see the connection between the story and the scripture he had quoted—and I knew it wasn’t about being as stubborn as a mule. Marriage commits us in purpose as surely as that rope between the mule and the horse. Even though we recognize our ultimate destination, we don’t always travel in the same direction or at the same pace to get there. The soft strands of the rope that tie us together—representing love, patience, commitment, and faith—should prevent the rope from chafing. If the rope material is too rough, one of the partners might decide to cut it rather than endure pain and suffering.

I had misunderstood. Was I really willing to have a dynamic, take-charge leader for a husband and stand in his shadow, being pulled toward a goal or ideal? On the other hand, I wondered how much my husband appreciated being dragged along by my unwavering zeal.

I have studied the last six verses of Doctrine and Covenants 121 with new understanding. The principles they teach have strengthened and enriched my marriage. When one partner is less enthusiastic about the path they are following, it’s easy to blame the other partner—and that is what I had been doing.

I’m grateful to my father for a gentle reminder that made such a difference in my life. The deep love and respect my husband and I enjoy in our seventeen-year marriage is a product of my father’s advice. Each time I’m tempted to be domineering, I hear my father’s words: “He’s a good man, Martha, and he needs to know that you think so, too.”

Thanks, Dad. You’re so right.

President Hinckley shared an experience he had when he was quite young, and I quote:
When I was a small boy in the first grade, I experienced what I thought was a rather tough day at school. I came home, walked in the house, threw my book on the kitchen table, and let forth an expletive that included the name of the Lord.
My mother was shocked. She told me quietly, but firmly, how wrong I was. She told me that I could not have words of that kind coming out of my mouth. She led me by the hand into the bathroom, where she took from the shelf a clean washcloth, put it under the faucet, and then generously coated it with soap. She said, "We'll have to wash out your mouth." She told me to open it, and I did so reluctantly. Then she rubbed the soapy washcloth around my tongue and teeth. I sputtered and fumed and felt like swearing again, but I didn't. I rinsed and rinsed my mouth, but it was a long while before the soapy taste was gone. In fact, whenever I think of that experience, I can still taste the soap. The lesson was worthwhile. I think I can say that I have tried to avoid using the name of the Lord in vain since that day. I am grateful for that lesson.[11]

Some time ago I received a touching letter from Randy Spaulding, who lived in northern Utah. The letter explained the composition of his family and then the gradual onset of an illness that took his father from a healthy, strong individual to a weak and crippled middle-aged man. The father’s physical condition deteriorated until he could not work, could not walk, became confined to a wheelchair, and was almost helpless.
Randy told how the family and ward members have taken over the care of the farm and have provided much help to the family. Father can no longer speak; Mother is his constant provider of care—yet neither of them has uttered or written those words, “Why us?”
Let me return to Randy Spaulding’s actual words. He wrote: “One morning as I was thinking about the mundane things of life and hurrying out the door to begin the day, I happened to notice my father sitting in the corner of the room reading his scriptures. I stopped and went over to speak to him. I noticed the difficult circumstances he was under. With his right hand, he was trying to hold up his head enough to see me and read the Book of Mormon. I learned that at one of the most trying times, he still had enough faith to read about a God of love, a God of miracles who heals and makes us whole, and a God of life—eternal life. My father still believes. Oh, how I long to take him back in time to the Pool of Bethesda and to ask our Master if He would please have mercy on us, so that my father, also, could take up his bed and walk.”
His letter continued: “That day I returned to my bedroom and thanked my Heavenly Father for a father and mother second to none.”

Take 50 eager students, 1,260 empty containers, and 21 tons of wheat, and you have an energy-packed service project that’s still sending tremors through southern California.
Junior college students at Los Angeles Pierce College—many of them enrolled in the Woodland Hills Institute of Religion—took upon themselves one goal: to help families get food storage.
And orders they got! In fact, so many people from throughout the Los Angeles area responded to the service project—even some nonmembers—that they had to arrange for three shipments of wheat to fill orders for 63 tons.
The first step was to investigate food storage requirements—protein and moisture contents as well as best packaging methods. With the tracks laid, the students began the task of crew organization, paper work, and word-of-mouth advertising in preparation for their first shipment of 21 tons of hard winter wheat.
The delivery day was never to be forgotten.
After the wheat arrived the real work began; the wheat was poured into containers, sealed airtight, and loaded during a heavy rain onto pickup trucks for personal delivery to each home.
“I’ve never been so wet and worked so hard in my life,” said Meli Estrada with a laugh. “And I’ve never seen so many kids having so much fun together.”
“Most of the people couldn’t believe we were delivering right to their doorsteps,” commented Claire Smith.
For most of the young people the real satisfaction came with the comments from customers who said, “This is what it took to really motivate us to get our year’s supply.” And, “We don’t have any room, but if kids are going to work this hard to get it to us, we’ll store it in our living room if we have to.” Another said, “I’ve never known a thing about wheat, but I’m going to learn right now how to make bread.”
A free bonus with all orders was a mimeographed sheet of whole wheat recipes and a food storage checklist.
The consensus of everyone involved in the food storage project was summed up by Pat Morley, a nonmember from Canoga Park: “It’s great to be together with your friends doing something fun and at the same time doing something that is so necessary.”

Satan doesn’t care what he uses to get us—liquor, tobacco, drugs, desires for unearned wealth, dishonesty, lust. He is clever enough to use whatever is at hand. I read recently of a young man who was taunted by his friends until, teetering at the edge, he relented and became a participant in drug usage. His habit increased until the time he became involved in theft to support it. From there it was only a small step to armed robbery, a shooting, and a dead druggist. He’ll never know, because of the drug-induced stupor, whether or not he was the one who fired the fatal shot, but it was he who was convicted and sentenced to a ninety-year term. All because he couldn’t say no, when he knew he should, to his so-called friends.

Let me give you an example. Back in the 1980s, our young business was struggling. Earnings had plummeted in the recession. Jon decided to sell 40 percent of the company. He found a buyer, and after tough negotiations, the two fixed a price and shook hands on the deal. Six months went by while the necessary papers, contracts, and terms were completed to provide a legally binding arrangement.
During that period the market turned. Our company’s earnings climbed; sales exceeded all previous levels. Wall Street analysts advised that the 40 percent agreed to earlier was now worth five times the original amount, and the lawyers took the position that the oral agreement was not binding, since no papers had been signed.
The buyers, realizing the dramatic growth of the company, expected to pay a much higher price. There was no question that we needed that extra capital as the company expanded.
But Jon was a man of his word, and his handshake was no casual commitment. He informed the buyers of his decision to honor the original agreement and shocked the chemical industry. He would lose millions in the deal, but to him, a deal was a deal. His handshake was his bond.

Last year, the branch made its first-ever temple trip. For them the closest temple is in England. A temple trip is a huge undertaking. It’s expensive and until recently, the temple ceremony was not available in Icelandic.
Hanna describes the experience of being in the temple. “Everybody greeted us and everybody was so nice and warm. It’s like being in heaven. I wanted to feel that feeling always.”
During the time at the temple, the Icelandic youth spent time each morning and again in the afternoon doing vicarious baptisms. The names were from their own ancestry. Melanie couldn’t help wondering about the people she was being baptized for. “Will they accept it? Will they be happy? Will they be thankful for what I’m doing here? It wasn’t just a name; it was a person who had a life here on earth and a family.”
When they got home, the feeling of closeness they developed as friends continued. These teens love their country and love the Church. These days sacrament meeting fills their meeting room to overflowing, and they’re glad. The message of the gospel is spreading like a light throughout the land.