Gospel Story Finder

Carolina Caetano began coming to Young Women class when her parents returned to church after years of inactivity. Although she’d enjoyed Primary as a child, Carolina had never been baptized and was now unfamiliar with the Church and its members. “When you come back, you feel really shy because you don’t know anyone anymore. So at first I didn’t go much,” she says.
But soon the missionaries and Sister Pimentel began to visit Carolina’s home to teach her the gospel. “Whenever [Sister Pimentel] prepared a lesson, she came to my house to explain it to me. And she always helped me read the Book of Mormon,” says Carolina.
Carolina also started to make friends. “The thing that helped me come back the most, and what helped me want to get baptized, was the strong friendships I made here. The girls were always around me, always calling me to say, ‘Hey, come to the activities. Come this Sunday.’ They were always reminding me.”

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.
“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.
“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”
Prince received his answer.
“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

I wasn’t what you would call physically intimidating. In fact, I couldn’t even qualify as a 98-pound weakling. As a sophomore in high school I weighed in at a lanky 95 pounds. In an attempt to develop some kind of self-confidence, I had turned to wrestling.
Things were going well for me too. I’d finally broken into the varsity lineup and won a few matches when my coach decided that it would be “good experience” for me to travel with the junior varsity team for a match with a much smaller high school’s varsity team.
We were all pretty cocky by the time the bus pulled up beside the gym. I mean, after all, what kind of wrestlers could such a small school have? We piled out of the bus and headed straight for the wrestling room to check our weight. The wrestling room was typical—hot and stuffy with an odd assortment of mats and weights scattered across the floor. On the wall by the scales was a chart giving their team and individual statistics. My eyes scanned down the list to find my opponent’s record.
My heart fell to my stomach. He had nine wins against two losses and had placed second in a major tournament. My own record was a not-so-spectacular four and four. In addition, he led their team in almost every category—including pins.
When their team entered the room, I quickly spotted my opponent. He found me just as fast. He looked me over from head to toe. I looked him over from shoulder to shoulder. He was built like a tree stump. I was thin and lanky. In my mind I could imagine the years of bucking hay and other farm chores that had put muscles on his muscles. I looked down at my skinny arms and protruding ribs.
Right then I knew I would be victim number ten.
As the team wasted away the hours before the match, I rationalized the loss in my mind. He was obviously much stronger than I and, according to the stat sheets, also more skilled. Besides this was only a junior varsity match in a faraway town. No one would see me lose.
When we headed back to the locker rooms to dress, my heart sank again. There stood my father. He was in the area on business and had driven over to watch me wrestle. I cried inside as he introduced me to several of his friends from the area. Didn’t he know I was about to be destroyed? He told me to “go get ’em.” I replied with a very hollow, “Yeah, sure.”
As we dressed, my mind raced. What could I do? How could he show up for this match? I resolved to not get pinned. That was respectable. It was obvious that I was outmatched. Winning was out of the question.
I halfheartedly went through the warm-up routine with the rest of the team. I could see my father up in the balcony of the small gym seated with his friends.
Mine was the first match. As I shook hands with my opponent in the center of the mat, my dad yelled out, encouraging me. How could he? Now everyone would know he was my dad. I felt embarrassed for him, knowing that my opponent was about to wipe up the mat with my skinny body.
The referee blew the whistle starting the match. The crowd erupted with cheers. In all my previous matches, once the whistle blew my mind blocked out all sounds—my coach, the cheerleaders, even the roar of the crowd. This time I could still hear my father calling, yelling, even begging me to keep going—to do my best.
I struggled, I fought. One second I was on top; the next I was flat on the mat squirming to get free. The six minutes raced by faster than ever before. My father never stopped calling to me. The final buzzer sounded. The gym fell quiet—too quiet.
I had won.
One point separated us. By listening to my father’s voice, by picking it out of the crowd, I had won—something I had considered impossible just six minutes earlier. My coach called it my greatest victory. It was—not because I had won but because I knew my father’s voice and I knew that he believed in me.

Years ago, I received a blue book with gold lettering on the cover from missionaries serving on the military base where I was receiving training for my job in the United States Navy.
As I started to read the book, someone told me that it was false because it was copied from the Bible. This caused me to doubt the book’s authenticity, but I held onto it. I read a little of it, put it in the bottom of my seabag, and then forgot about it.
Over a year later, I decided to clean out my seabag. I found the book but no longer had any interest in it, so I threw it away. But sometime later, I grew curious about what was in that blue book with gold lettering. I now believe that this feeling came from the Spirit, “which leadeth to do good” (Doctrine and Covenants 11:12).
In 2005 a newfound friend invited me to listen to the missionaries. At first, I had questions and doubts about what they taught, but the missionaries were confident and gave answers that made sense to me.
When I realized that these missionaries were like the ones I had met years before, I anxiously asked them, “Do you guys have a blue book with gold lettering?”
“Yes, we do!” one of them replied. “It’s called the Book of Mormon!”
I was excited to have the Book of Mormon again. In fact, I was so excited that I read it more than once in less than two weeks! As I read and prayed, I came to know that it is the word of God.

One year I set a New Year’s resolution to read and study the entire Book of Mormon. I wanted to gain a rock-solid testimony of the book and the gospel. However, sticking to a schedule was harder than I thought, and I soon became overwhelmed and discouraged. I lost sight of my original goal to gain a testimony, and I stopped reading altogether.
The next year I was setting goals again. With only two years of high school left, I wanted to focus on preparing for a mission. I knew that in order to be a successful missionary, I had to study and gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon, but I remembered my earlier attempt and was overwhelmed by that task. I thought, “I tried that last year, and it failed miserably.” Reading the Book of Mormon began to feel impossible, so I said a prayer.
A calm feeling washed over me, and I realized then that gaining a testimony isn’t a “yearly” thing—you can’t set a huge goal to “gain a testimony” and then just expect it to come by the end of the year. Conversion happens day by day and week by week, not year by year.
So I set a smaller, more manageable goal. Every Sunday, I would reflect on my week, setting short-term goals to help read the Book of Mormon and improve my testimony, and realigning myself with my end goal, which was serving a mission.
Most of my goals were really small, like reading earlier in the day to be more attentive or changing the way I marked my scriptures. But I saw an impact in my life. I am still not perfect at reading my scriptures—far from it—but I am blessed with the motivation to keep trying. I can see the blessings of the gospel in my life, and I have the assurance that I can become who Heavenly Father wants me to be.

Let me ask each of you to picture two crystal goblets in your mind. They differ in size and shape. They are both of good quality and have been well used. One has been carefully kept in a china cupboard. It is clean and polished. It is warm and inviting in appearance. It sparkles in the light and is filled with clear water.
The other glass is coated with grime. It has not been in the dishpan for a long time. It has been used for purposes other than those for which it was made. Most recently it has been left outside in the weather and has served as a flowerpot. Although the flower is gone, it is still filled with dirt. It is dull and unbecoming in the light.
Is not each of us like a crystal glass? We vary in size and shape. Some of us radiate a special spirit. Some are dull and uninviting. Some fill the measure of their creation. Others do not. Each is filled with the accumulated experiences or debris of a lifetime.
Some contain mostly good things—clean thoughts, faith, and Christian service. These hold wisdom and peace. Others enclose dark and secret things. Over time they have filled with unclean thoughts, selfishness, and sloth. They often hold doubt, contention, and unrest.
Many know they are not living up to their potential but for various reasons have procrastinated making changes in their lives. Some long for they know not what and spend their lives in a haphazard pursuit of happiness.
These, in a way, are like the crystal goblet which spent part of its existence filled with dirt. They sense that there is a higher purpose to things. They become dissatisfied and begin to search for meaning. First they look outside themselves. They sample the pleasures of the world. As they do they discover, much as did the snail who set out to look for its house, that after arriving at wherever they were going, they are no closer than before to the object of their search.
Ultimately, they look within. They have really known all the time that this was where to find peace. Sin, you see, is not just a state of mind. Wickedness never was and never will be happiness. (See Alma 41:10.) They discover that if they are not righteous they can never be happy. (See 2 Ne. 2:13.) They resolve to change. Then they are confronted, figuratively, with the problem of how to turn a weathered flowerpot into a sparkling crystal goblet. Questions are asked: Can I ever be forgiven? Is it really worth the effort? Where do I begin?
In the case of the glass it is easy to understand what to do. We begin by recognizing a better use for the crystal. A convenient place for dumping the unwanted contents is selected. The dirt is left there. The goblet is carefully washed with high quality detergent to remove the stains and residue. It is lovingly polished and placed once again in the company of other crystal glasses in the china cupboard. It is put back into use and cared for regularly.
There is a similar process whereby men and women are purified. The misuse of their lives is forgotten, and they are renewed and changed. This principle, of course, is repentance. When accompanied by authorized baptism, it provides not only an initial cleansing but an ongoing remission of sins as well. Participating in this purifying process is perhaps the most thrilling and important thing we can ever do. It has far-reaching, even eternal, consequences. Of more immediate interest, however, the rewards of repentance are peace and forgiveness in this present life.
Let me illustrate what all of this means. A few years ago I was asked to speak to a group of young men. I don’t remember now exactly what was said, except that near the end I made the statement that no one, but no one, present had done anything for which he could not be forgiven.
After the meeting was over one of them came up to me and said, “I just have to talk to you.” Inasmuch as I soon had another appointment, I asked if it could wait or if someone else could answer his question. He replied that he had already waited many years and that it was very important to him.
So taking advantage of the few minutes available, we found a little unused classroom, went in, and closed the door. “Did you really mean it? Did you?” he asked.
“Mean what?” I said.
“The part about how none of us had done anything that could not be forgiven,” he replied.
“Of course I did,” I said.
Through his tears his story came. He was of goodly parents. All of his life his mother had told him that he was going on a mission. Before he turned nineteen he was involved in serious transgression. He didn’t know how to tell his parents. He knew it would break their hearts. He knew that he wasn’t worthy to serve a mission. In desperation, he began to look for an excuse not to go. He decided to take up smoking. He felt that his father could understand that better and would not probe for the real reason. Smoking would hurt his parents, he rationalized, but not as deeply as the truth.
He soon found, however, that the bishop wasn’t put off by his use of tobacco. The bishop told him to just stop it and go on a mission anyway. So to get away from the bishop, he entered the military service. There he fell under the influence of some good Latter-day Saints. He stopped smoking. He was able to avoid major temptations. He served his time, received an honorable discharge, and returned home.
There was only one problem. He felt guilty. He had run away from a mission. He had run from the Lord and sensed somehow that gnawing discontent which comes when men do not live up to the purpose of their creation.
“So there you have it,” he said. “I have not sinned again. I have attended my meetings. I keep the Word of Wisdom. Why is it that life seems empty? Why do I feel somehow that the Lord is displeased with me? How can I know for sure I have been forgiven?”
“Tell me what you know about repentance,” I said.
He had obviously done some reading on the subject. He spoke of recognition, remorse, and restitution. He had resolved never to sin again.
“Let’s see just how those principles apply to you,” I said. “Let’s begin with recognition. What is the best indicator that someone recognizes he has done wrong?”
“He will admit it,” was his reply.
“To whom?” I asked.
He was thoughtful. “To himself, I guess.”
“Men sometimes view themselves in a most favorable light,” I said. “Wouldn’t better evidence of awareness of wrongdoing be to tell someone else?”
“Yes, of course,” he answered.
“Who else?” I insisted.
“Why, the person wronged,” he said, “and … and maybe the bishop.”
“Have you done this?” I asked.
“Not until now,” he replied. “I’ve never told it all to anyone but you.”
“Maybe that is why you have not ever felt completely forgiven,” I responded.
He didn’t say much.
“Let’s look at the next step,” I said. “What does it mean to feel remorse?”
“It means to be sorry,” he answered.
“Are you sorry?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I feel as if I had wasted half my life.” And his eyes filled again with tears.
“How sorry should you be?”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
I said, “Well, in order to be forgiven, a transgressor must experience godly sorrow. (See 2 Cor. 7:10.) He must have anguish of soul and genuine regret. This sorrow must be strong enough and long enough to motivate the additional processes of repentance, or it is not deep enough. Regret must be great enough so as to bring forth a changed person. That person must demonstrate that he is different than before by doing different and better things. Have you been sorry enough?” I asked again.
He hesitated. “I’ve changed,” he said. “I’m not the same as I was before. I keep all the commandments now. I would like somehow to make it up to my parents. I have prayed for forgiveness. I apologized to the person I wronged. I realize the seriousness of what I have done. I would give anything if it hadn’t happened. Maybe I haven’t been as good as I could be, but I don’t know what else to do. But I didn’t ever confess to anyone.”
I said, “I think after this meeting we can say you have even done that.”
Then he said, “But after all of that, how can I ever know the Lord has really forgiven me?”
“That is the easy part,” I replied. “When you have fully repented, you feel an inner peace. You know somehow you are forgiven because the burden you have carried for so long, all of a sudden isn’t there anymore. It is gone and you know it is gone.”
He seemed doubtful still.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, “if when you leave this room, you discover that you have left much of your concern in here. If you have fully repented, the relief and the peace you feel will be so noticeable that it will be a witness to you that the Lord has forgiven you. If not today, I think it will happen soon.”
I was late for my meeting. I opened the door and we went out together. I didn’t know if we would ever meet again. The following Sunday evening, I received a telephone call at my home. It was from the young man.
“Brother Howard, how did you know?”
“How did I know what?” I asked.
“How did you know I would feel good about myself for the first time in five years?”
“Because the Lord promised he would remember no more,” I said. (See Heb. 8:12.)
Then came the question: “Do you think the Church could use a twenty-four-year-old missionary? If they could, I would sure like to go.”
Well, that young man was like one of the glasses we spoke about. He had been out in the world and was partially filled with the wrong things. He was not content. Sin had clouded his vision and interfered with his potential. Until he could find a way to repent, he could never become what he knew he should be. It took time to change. It took prayer. It took effort, and it took help.
My young friend discovered that repentance is often a lonely, silent struggle. It is not a once-in-a-lifetime thing; rather, it lasts a lifetime. As President Stephen L Richards once said, it is an “ever-recurring acknowledgement of weakness and error and [a] seeking and living for the higher and better.” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1956, p. 91.)
This young man came to know that repentance is not a free gift. Just as faith without works is dead (see James 2:17)—so repentance, too, demands much. It is not for the fainthearted or the lazy. It requires a complete turning away from wrongdoing and a set of new works or doings which produce a new heart and a different man. Repentance means work. It is not just stopping doing something. It is not just recognizing the wrong or knowing what should be done. It is not “a cycle of sinning and repenting and sinning again.” (Hugh B. Brown, Eternal Quest, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1956, p. 102.)
It is not only remorse; rather, it is an eternal principle which, when properly applied over sufficient time, always results in renewal, cleansing, and change.
The young man we have spoken about discovered that where sin is so serious as to jeopardize one’s fellowship in the Church, the sinner must be willing to submit to the jurisdiction and judgment of the person who holds the custody of his Church membership and request forgiveness of him as well.
Most important of all, he learned that repentance is an indispensable counterpart to free agency. Free agency in the plan of salvation contemplates that men and women are free to choose the direction of their lives for themselves. Repentance means that as imperfect beings sometimes make imperfect decisions, they may correct their course. By following the rules of repentance, and through the atonement of Jesus Christ, mistakes don’t count. The Lord agrees to “remember no more.” (Heb. 8:12.) Because of the miraculous gift of forgiveness, transgressions are forgiven—and forgotten. Men can be cleansed and return to the path of purpose and progress and peace.
By repenting, my young friend became a new person. He was born again of the Spirit. He came to understand for himself, and that is the important thing, the meaning of the Savior’s words: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 11:28.) I so testify, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

Now, where temples have long been established, it is time for a renewed and continuing preparation. This is the work of home teachers, quorum presidents, bishops, and especially high priests, as well as all others involved in teaching the gospel. I remember one elders quorum president who determined that his leadership objective would be to help every member in his quorum to go to the temple. His initial report stated that all but six had qualified. He later reported that all but three had gone before he was released. After his release, however, they “got” the other three.

A few years after her marriage to a fine young man in the temple, when they were concentrating on the activities of young married life and raising a family, one day a letter came from “Box B.” (In those days a letter from “Box B” in Salt Lake City was invariably a mission call.)
To their surprise they were called as a family to go to one of the far continents of the world to help open the land for missionary work. They served faithfully and well, and after several years they returned to their home, to set about again the responsibilities of raising their family.
Then this little woman focused in on a Monday morning. It could perhaps be called a blue washday Monday. There had been some irritation and a disagreement. Then some biting words between husband and wife. Interestingly enough, she couldn’t remember how it all started or what it was over. “But,” she said, “nothing would do but that I follow him to the gate, and as he walked up the street on his way to work I just had to call that last biting, spiteful remark after him.”
Then, as the tears began to flow, she told me of an accident that took place that day, and he never returned. “For fifty years,” she sobbed, “I’ve lived in hell knowing that the last words he heard from my lips were that biting, spiteful remark.”
This was the message to her young home teacher. She pressed it upon me with the responsibility never to forget it. I have profited greatly from it. I have come to know since that time that a couple can live together without one cross word ever passing between them.

One thing we always do as a family is go camping. We have camped in Colorado, Arizona, California, and Utah. Of all those states, I liked Colorado best because of Turquoise Lake.
It isn’t easy to squash seven people into a small car and ride for three straight hours. And to be honest, I wasn’t in a good mood anyway. At the time, I didn’t like camping with my family. Maybe I was going through a phase or something, but my idea of a good time was being at home, where I could use the telephone and hang out with my friends.
We all cheered when Dad announced that we had reached the camp. We couldn’t see the lake from where we were, so my brothers and sister and I started running toward it as soon as we could. Unfortunately Dad was too quick, and he called us all back to set up the tents. He explained that it was almost dark, and we needed to get the work done while we still had daylight.
After a night’s sleep, I woke up the next morning to the sound of a bird chirping merrily from the branches of a tree right above my tent. Mom was already awake getting breakfast started.
“Do you need any help?” I asked.
“Not just yet,” she said.
Just then, I heard a frog croak and a splash coming from the direction of the lake.
Mom said, “Why don’t you take a look at the lake? If you hurry, you’ll be able to see the sunrise.”
Flashing her a grateful smile, I ran toward the hill that separated us from the lake. When I reached the top, I stopped for a moment and gasped, partly because I needed air and partly because the view below me was so beautiful.
The water in the lake was a turquoise color, and so clear I could actually see the fish swimming around in it. There were mountain peaks on the other side of the lake with snow still on them.
It was so quiet without my little brothers and sister running around making noise that I sat down on the hillside and enjoyed the scene that surrounded me. The lake was completely calm when I saw a ripple in the water. Then there was another ripple, and then another. The fish were jumping all around searching for their breakfast.
It was like a play had just begun, and the lake was the stage. The curtains had opened, and the actors had started their parts. From one side I saw a deer leading her fawn to the water’s edge. Next I heard the songs of a group of birds, as they chirped while the sun crept higher and higher. I watched as they flew off together, first turning to the right and then flying to the left and out of sight.
As the sun rose from behind the mountain range, I noticed a squirrel had stopped to watch as the colors of red and yellow filled the sky. We watched together while the sunlight raced across the lake before finally overwhelming us with the warm, first light of day.
Suddenly my thoughts of the moment seemed to change. Along with the rays of warmth, I experienced a type of tingling feeling all over my body as a new understanding filled my spirit. I was no longer just watching this morning miracle, but instead I had become part of the scene in the play. I realized the same immortal being who had created all of this beauty had also created me. I was just as much a piece of his artwork as was the lake, the animals, or the sunrise. It wasn’t until that moment on Turquoise Lake that I really understood that I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father.

Darrell was born in Bournemouth, the middle son of John and Iris Babidge. Music and the arts were a part of his childhood; his grandfather played keyboard in a band and his dad had a striking voice and loved to sing.
Singing wasn’t Darrell’s forte, to begin with, but he did have a love for the piano, inspired by his wonderful piano teacher, Miss Martin, who taught him from the age of 10. His uncle, Bryan Aubrey, was also a supporter of his musical ambition and bought him a metronome.
At the age of 16, despite his early promise, Darrell failed his O-level in music, although he still played the piano and sang at his local church. At this point singing was still an untapped passion in his life.
After serving a full-time mission in Scotland for the Church, Darrell went back to work at the solicitors’ practice of Lester and Russell. He enjoyed the work and the solicitors loved him and his work ethic.
They encouraged him to go to the careers office to find out what he would need to do to become a legal executive. Darrell was encouraged to pursue the vocation that meant the most to him. It was to be a pivotal conversation, for he left the office determined to follow a career in music. The advisor had told him that such a path promised little money or future, and yet something had been sparked in the young man’s imagination; even though the path was far from straightforward, he had a vision to follow.
At the age of 23 he auditioned for the London College of Music, using both voice and instrument (piano) as part of the audition. He was successful, and in 1990 started at the college as a mature student. Darrell was mindful of the career advisor’s warning, but his love of his chosen field blossomed and overrode any other practical or financial concerns.
During his time at the London College of Music he attended a performance of The Magic Flute at the English National Opera. There he had an epiphany, setting the wheels in motion for the next shift in his career.
Transferring to the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, Darrell won a prestigious competition and was employed by the Glyndebourne Festival Opera. His voice was starting to be heard.
Darrell graduated in 1997 and attended Brigham Young University in Utah, USA to complete his master’s degree. From there, he moved to New York City to study at the Manhattan School of Music, for his third degree in the subject he had once failed while still a struggling schoolboy.
Whilst in New York he met and married Jennifer Welch, a renowned opera singer in her own right. In 2005 Darrell, Jenny and their two little sons moved back to Utah where they were both asked to teach at BYU. Darrell was eventually offered a full-time position, and Jenny decided to be a full-time mother.
As a professor of music for 14 years, Darrell was hugely successful, with his students winning major international opera competitions. One of his students, Rachel Willis-Sørensen, was invited to sing at Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party at Buckingham Palace, who has since gone on to be a highly successful recording artist.
In 2019, Darrell was approached by the world-renowned Juilliard School and offered a full-time faculty position. Darrell, Jenny and now five children moved back to New York.
His abilities opened many doors. He was part of the Channel Four programme on Glyndebourne Festival Opera; he sang with the BBC Symphony Chorus in the Last Night of the Proms; and he was a soloist at the BBC Proms at The Royal Albert Hall, and a member of The Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square. He has also sung at the Metropolitan Opera and Carnegie Hall.
In 2021 it was announced that Darrell would be chair of the music faculty at the Juilliard School. It can be no surprise to learn that his students have also won many competitions and have appeared on The Voice and America’s Got Talent. One student has also been nominated for a Grammy award.
Not bad for a young man who failed O-level music and was told a career in music had no future.
In Darrell’s words, “Never give up your hopes of doing something you love! I always knew I had a passion for music; my 16-year-old self just didn’t know it.”

Not long ago, I glanced out the window of the mission home kitchen in Santiago, Chile. There behind the house I could see a large English walnut tree with a big pile of dirt under it. Playing in the dirt pile, I spied two little boys. It had rained recently and both boys were covered with mud. I could barely tell who they were. When they saw me looking out the window, smiles broke out on their faces, and then I could tell it was my son Chris and his friend David. Chris’s face was so covered with mud that when he smiled, his teeth showed through like six small marshmallows on top of a chocolate cake.
Later when it was time to come in and David had gone home, I sent Chris upstairs to bathe. We joked about how it would take three tubs full of water to get him clean. The first would have to be shoveled out just like pure dirt; the second, dipped out with a bucket like runny mud, and maybe we would be able to wash the third down the drain.
After Chris had soaked for a few minutes, I went in to help him get really clean and we had a serious talk that I hope he will never forget.
We worked together to get one hand scrubbed clean and then he compared it with the other that was still dirty. “Boy, Dad,” he said, “it’s sure great to have clean hands.” I explained how true that is, and said, “I want you to know that it is not the dirt of the earth that makes people’s hands really dirty. If a boy steals, if he is mean to his friends and hits them on purpose, if he tells his parents he will do something and then doesn’t, or if he is naughty or disobedient in other ways, this causes real “dirt”—the kind that you can’t wash off with soap and water. It’s the kind of dirt that you have to wear all the time and, even though others can’t always see it on you, you know yourself that inside you are not clean.”
I want all my dear, young friends to know there are different kinds of dirt; one you get on your hands from working and playing. This you can wash off. The other kind of “dirt” comes from doing bad things, sometimes called sin, that seem to stain your heart but can be “washed” away when you repent.
First you must do all you can to correct the wrong you have done. Then ask your Father in heaven and others to forgive you, so your hands and heart will be “scrubbed clean” from the dirt of wrongdoing.
The Savior said, “… entangle not yourselves in sin, but let your hands be clean, until the Lord comes.” (D&C 88:86.) He also said to those who had repented and were living pure lives: “Behold, your sins are forgiven you; you are clean before me; therefore, lift up your heads and rejoice.” (D&C 110:5.)
I hope that you will often get your hands dirty with hard work and play, but I hope that throughout your lives, this is the only dirt you will have to get rid of and not the kind that stains your heart through sin or disobedience. I want Chris and all other children to remember that should you slip and fall into sin, you can be washed clean by true repentance.
What joy it is to have clean hands and a pure heart!

When I was a student, one of my roommates asked me a lot of questions about the physical signs of the covenants I had made in the holy temple. In response, I invited him to attend sacrament meeting and Sunday School to learn more about things of eternal value that could bring him lasting joy.
At that stage of our lives, as a young man, he prioritized other activities that he felt could make him happy.
When we completed our studies, we both found jobs at the same company. I continued to lovingly counsel him without pressuring him. Seventeen years later, after he had been instructed by the power of the Holy Spirit, he agreed to join the Church with his wife and two children. A year later, he was sealed in the Accra Ghana Temple. So great was his joy that he never missed an opportunity to teach the doctrine of Christ and to invite others to come to Christ. I always showed love to my friend, to the point that I never condemned him when his heart was set on the pleasures of the world.

In one area encompassing several stakes, quorum leaders and home teachers visited more than 500 homes of inactive members, most of whom had earlier refused an invitation to attend a temple preparation seminar. “Could these good home teachers come to your home once a week to teach you the gospel?” the leaders asked. “We won’t pressure you or ask you to do anything. We’ll just explain the principles of the gospel, and you and your family can make your own decisions.”

The answer? In 80 percent of the homes, the family accepted the proposal. That’s 400 families who were now receiving the benefits of the missionary-work aspect of home teaching! And the success stories have been numerous:
One inactive elder’s business took him out of town six nights a week. He was usually home only on Saturday night and during the day on Sunday. Yet when he was approached to see if he would accept weekly teaching in his home, he accepted. After the first Saturday-night lesson, he decided to attend church the next day. He now serves in his elders quorum presidency.
In another family the father was an alcoholic. He accepted the home teachers into his home on a weekly basis, and gradually his wife and children became active. Even though the man is still a prospective elder, he’s made great strides. And his oldest son, who was reactivated through the teaching, is now a full-time missionary!
One young couple acknowledged that they should go to the temple, but they weren’t yet willing to attend the temple preparation seminars. They did allow their home teachers to come by weekly to teach them, however. Now the young man says, “I wasn’t rebellious. But I didn’t quite understand the gospel.” At one point he commented to his home teachers: “I know you have families and are busy. We appreciate your coming. We need your teaching.”
A common thread runs through these successes, as well as the hundreds (perhaps thousands) of others that could be shared. The basic idea is that we don’t teach the family everything we’d like them to hear; rather, we start by teaching them what they’re ready and able to hear.
The distinction is a critical one. If we teach beyond a family’s capacity to hear and accept, we might well create a negative situation. The family may become defensive, tune us out, or ask us to stop teaching. The message doesn’t get through, the Spirit has no opportunity to testify to the hearts of the people, and the opportunity is lost.
Here are the basic steps to making home teaching work when approaching inactive members:
1. Pray for the Spirit in preparing and delivering your lesson. No other single factor is as important as having the Spirit testify to those you teach. It is “by the power of the Holy Ghost” that we “may know the truth of all things.” (Moro. 10:5.)
2. Make sure the family knows you’re going to use a no-pressure teaching approach. When you initially approach the family at the door to see if they’ll let you teach them, tell them your teaching won’t involve any pressure. Later, you may be moved by the Spirit to challenge them to make some commitments, but that will be later—if and when the time is right, and when the Spirit inspires you to do so. For now, they need to be assured that they won’t be subjected to high-pressure tactics. The door approach might go something like this:
“Brother Brown, we’ve come tonight with an idea we think you might be interested in. My companion and I would like to come to your home on a weekly basis to teach you more about the gospel. Our teaching approach doesn’t involve any pressure or expectations. We’ll just tell you about the principles of the gospel, and then you can decide for yourselves what you’ll do with them.”
One quorum leader says he’s almost never been turned down when he uses that approach. “First, I make sure that I talk to both the husband and wife,” he says. “If both aren’t there, I don’t even bring it up, but tell the one who’s home that I’ll visit again later.
“Second, I avoid giving them an easy way to say no. I once visited a man who had requested no home teachers. I asked him if home teachers could come by each week to teach his family. Before I was even finished with my sentence, I could tell he was going to say no. So I didn’t ask for an answer. I just said, ‘Why don’t you think this over, and I’ll be back next week.’
“The next week when I returned—I think he was surprised to see me. I told him a little bit about the first lesson. But again I could tell he was going to turn me down. So I didn’t give him a chance. I told him to think about it some more, and I’d be back a week later.
“The next week the same thing happened. I was beginning to think I’d never make any progress. But the following week he didn’t wait for me to come. He called me!
“After we started teaching him, his wife came up to me with tears in her eyes. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever seen Mac interested in the Church,’ she said.”
3. The next step in home teaching inactive members is to avoid the “recognition and attack” method of teaching. If you recognize that a family has a particular problem with gospel living, don’t attack that problem. Avoid it for the time being. Most people already know what they’re doing wrong. The home teacher can strengthen them by not attacking their practices, but instead concentrating on other areas and letting the Spirit witness to them.
For example, one prospective elder refused to come to church because he smoked. “I didn’t feel the Church was that important,” he says. But he and his wife decided to let their home teachers come by every week to teach them. There was no mention of smoking until the husband himself brought up the subject several weeks later. After three months they attended the temple preparation seminar, and now they attend church every week. He still struggles with his smoking, but he’s accepted a call to be a home teacher. He now understands that “the Church is ‘for the perfecting of the Saints’ (Eph. 4:12)” and “not a well-provisioned rest home for the already perfected.” (Elder Neal A. Maxwell, General Conference, April, 1982.)
4. Avoid question-form teaching. Many inactive members are uncomfortable answering gospel questions. Instead, the teacher can present the material in a lecture mode (a lot of visual aids will enliven the lesson), while encouraging the family to ask as many questions as they like.
5. Always let the father preside in the home. He has the authority in his home to select who should say the opening and closing prayers. When he’s ready to pray, he’ll offer the prayer himself. Until he does, the home teachers should let him exercise his authority to call on other people.
6. Never teach beyond a family’s willingness to receive. A teacher who is sensitive to the Spirit, as well as to the needs of the family he’s teaching, can tell when a family is responding negatively to the message. One thing that will help is to stick to the basics. Some home teachers have found that it helps to start with a few foundational lessons, such as the plan of salvation, the atonement of Jesus Christ, how revelation comes, the laws God gives and the blessings that come with obedience, the apostasy and restoration of the gospel, and the Book of Mormon. Many basic lesson materials may be found in the temple preparation seminar lesson manual, the Gospel Principles manual, and the Gospel Essentials class manual.
7. Don’t try to push the family into commitments. Joseph Smith said, “I teach them correct principles and let them govern themselves.” Home teachers can take the same approach with their inactive families by simply teaching and testifying. Later, as the family grows and progresses, the home teacher may be prompted by the Holy Ghost to suggest that they set some goals—but the nature of those goals should usually be left to the family to decide.
A prospective elder in Utah was afraid to go to church because he didn’t want to be called on to pray or answer questions. After two months of being taught the gospel in their home, he and his wife accepted an invitation to attend the temple preparation seminar. Shortly afterward, they made church attendance their goal, despite the man’s fears. It was their decision, arising out of their progress in learning the gospel. He’s now been ordained an elder, and he and his wife have been sealed in the temple.
8. Follow the Lord’s counsel to his servants as found in Doctrine and Covenants 4:6 [D&C 4:6]. “Remember faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, godliness, charity, humility, diligence.”
The home teacher who follows these guidelines will find himself more concerned with the needs of the family than with statistics or other such concerns. He’ll be tolerant of a slow rate of change. He’ll be willing to become involved in a labor of love and sacrifice, recognizing that impatience and quick commitment won’t bring the lasting results he seeks.
9. Finally, remember that more important than any material the home teacher presents is the feeling the family has when he’s there. Rapport is more important than information.
One couple who were having marital problems agreed to let their home teachers come by to teach every week. As the teachers came week after week, gradually the husband and wife were able to become more and more reconciled. The wife explained later, “When the home teachers are here, my husband is the neatest man in the world. I hope they can keep coming for the next forty years!”
The beauty of home teaching in this way is that it meets the family right at the point where they’re living. One man wanted to hear nothing at all about the beliefs of the Church, having been deeply hurt by another Church member years before. “They’re all hypocrites,” he said.
The quorum leader who was visiting neither agreed nor disagreed. Instead, he said, “I’ve seen some things in my life that weren’t fair and equitable too. It’s too bad things are like that sometimes.”
The man was surprised at the leader’s response. He invited the visitors into his home to talk about it.
“We listened with real intent until he had exhausted his bitterness,” the leader said. “Then we talked about the Savior’s all-encompassing love and forgiveness, being careful not to refer to specific Church members’ actions. We explained that he had a great opportunity to develop the capacity to forgive. When we prepared to leave, we asked if we could come again and discuss the gospel. He told us we were welcome to come to his home any time.”
The home teachers have since visited that home many times, and have witnessed a complete change of attitude in the man.
Not all instances of home teachers doing missionary work among inactive members have ended in dramatic success. But the remarkable thing is that teaching opportunities seldom just end: once families agree to enter the teaching process, they almost never choose to discontinue it, and whether they become active or not, they will make advancements in their lives.
Effective home teachers can make a difference in people’s lives. By teaching a person and his family the gospel, the family will gain more “divine data” on which to base life’s decisions. The teaching process can bring the Spirit of God into the hearts and homes of those involved. And the family will feel more loved and accepted than they ever have before.
Furthermore, the teaching can have tremendous impact on the home teachers as well. “There may be problems and trials,” said one home teacher. “But if you hang in there and let the family know you’re going to stick with them, they’ll progress. To home teach your families effectively takes time and effort. But when you get in and get committed to it, you can really see that Spirit directing the work. I’m not exaggerating when I say my work as a home teacher has literally changed my life. I’m becoming the kind of person I’d always hoped I could be.”

When Eli Herring was little, he would sometimes try to be sneaky and watch Sunday professional football on television. He didn’t know much about the game, but he knew he liked it. He liked it so much that each week when his class at school would go to the library, he would check out books about football players. He knew they were big and strong, he knew he wanted to be one, and he knew that they played most of their games on Sunday. And he wanted to watch some football.
One Sunday when he had the television on, he suddenly noticed his father looming in the doorway. Eli promptly forgot about the game. His father wasn’t angry, but he sure looked disappointed. Brother Herring simply said, “Turn it off,” and Eli did. He never watched football on Sunday again.

I heard a story about a father who noticed his young daughter kneeling beside her bed, praying that Heavenly Father would protect little birds from entering a bird trap her brother had built and placed in the backyard. Later that day, the father grew concerned. He knew the trap was a good one. He had helped his son build it.
“I heard you praying this morning that Heavenly Father would protect the little birds from your brother’s trap,” he said to his daughter. “But sometimes sad things happen even when we pray that they won’t.”
She responded, “I just know he won’t catch any birds, Daddy.”
“I admire your faith, sweetheart,” the father said. “But if he does catch some birds, I hope that won’t hurt your faith.”
“He won’t, Daddy,” she said. “I know he won’t.”
The father asked, “How can you have such great faith?”
“Because after I said my prayers,” his daughter replied, “I went out back and kicked his bird trap all to pieces.”

It was after the couple’s marriage, in the late 1970s, that Elder Bednar received a long-hoped-for phone call. It was his father asking him to come home to California to perform a baptism—his own.
“I honestly believe that’s why I was born. Not to teach [my father], but to assist him in learning about the restored gospel,” Elder Bednar says.
His father was an honest, straightforward man. He attended church with young David all his life, coached the softball team, and took Scouts on trips. He supported Elder Bednar’s decision to serve a mission to Germany. He told his young son, “I’ll join this Church when I know it’s the right thing to do” (see Summit, 1997, 9–10).
The years since then have held many unforgettable moments, many from his experiences with Church callings. At age 30, Elder Bednar was called as a member of a stake presidency in Arkansas. He then served as a bishop, twice as a stake president, and later as a regional representative, Area Authority, and Area Authority Seventy.
On 1 October, President Gordon B. Hinckley extended an apostolic call to Elder Bednar, less than 24 hours before he was sustained by Church members throughout the world.
“I think I know better than anyone that within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints there are literally hundreds and thousands of men better qualified, more able than I,” he says, “but I do know from whence the call has come. And so I’m honored to respond. I look forward to serving, and I’m anxious for the opportunity to be able to learn.”

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf told about a girl named Eva who spent the summer with her Aunt Rose. At first Eva didn’t like being there, but then she noticed Rose was the happiest person she’d ever met! She asked Rose why she was so happy. Rose said that although her life didn’t turn out the way she expected, she decided to try to be happy instead of feeling sorry for herself. Trusting God gave her the hope she needed to live joyfully.

I remember when I was young and leaving home for service in the U.S. Navy. My grandmother cautioned me that the Spirit of the Lord would not go with me into places where evil was. That fact was verified for me many times as my duties required that I be in places where evil ruled in the hearts of men. We, that is, our spirits recoil from evil, at least we recoil until we become so used to its presence that we lose our ability to be shocked by it, and in fact, become insensitive to its presence.

Goodness can be sensed just as evil, but because it is not shocking or traumatic, it is easier for us not to notice it. Yet goodness is powerful, more powerful than evil. Goodness is holy. It feels so good to be honest. And do we not all know the sweet relief which comes from being forgiven? Forgiveness is godly. Repentance is a major principle of the gospel of Jesus Christ, for it cleanses us and puts our spirits in tune with that which is good once again. Inevitably goodness witnesses of Jesus Christ, and our testimonies of eternal truths are strengthened.

For example, the witness of the truth of the Book of Mormon came to me as a young man because I developed the desire to be protected from evil by a shield of goodness. It was during World War II. I was a young sailor assigned to the Anacostia Naval Airbase in Washington, D.C.

One of my jobs was to help make training films identifying shapes and outlines of enemy ships and airplanes. These films were made in a large, barnlike structure containing a big flat stage and filled with models and outlines and forms and other devices.

Most of the time we were very busy, but there came a time toward the end of the war when we went for weeks without an assignment. Eventually, all the other personnel on this job were assigned to other tasks, but for some reason, I was left alone in the building, I guess to guard the equipment.

At first, I enjoyed my freedom. It was great to have nothing to do. All the electricity in the building was turned off with the exception of one outlet into which was plugged a small lamp, which sat on the corner of a table. There was a hard wooden chair where I could sit if I cared to. All the rest of the great building was in darkness. So for a few days I opened the door to the outside light and sat in the doorway on the old chair and thoroughly enjoyed myself. But before long I became immensely bored.

I had been raised in the Church by careful parents who had taught me the gospel, but I had never read the Book of Mormon completely through for myself. One day as I sat idle, I decided that this was an opportune time for me to read it. So that afternoon I brought my small serviceman’s Book of Mormon from my room and, desiring privacy, went inside the building and turned on the little light by the table and began to read. I remember how I was struck by those first words, “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents. …” (1 Ne. 1:1.)

As the days went by, I read every word. My soul, programmed as it was to goodness and truth, began to respond to the testimonies of the prophets. I had never had such an experience! I read slowly, prayerfully, savoring every word, wishing that it would never end. I had feelings in my heart that I had never been conscious of before. And when at last I read the admonition of Moroni at the end of the book, I felt a great desire in my heart to test his words, to ask for spiritual verification even greater than what I was then feeling. I remember shutting the doors of that vast building and locking myself in, then kneeling in the darkness on the cold cement floor, my forehead resting against the hard wooden seat of the old chair, and telling the Lord that I believed the words of Moroni, and asking him to strengthen my belief into knowledge.

I shall never forget what happened; I have felt it many times since. I became aware that I was surrounded by a power beyond myself, which came over me and through me. It was all around me, calm, clear, and indescribably powerful. It seemed white and delicious to me, like the fruit of the Tree of Life which Nephi told of. (See 1 Ne. 8:15.) It filled me completely and did not leave me for days after. It was not shocking or disturbing in any way, as is the power of evil, but was sweet and assuring to my soul. I knew that the book was true.

Vitaly: Katya and I were married in Omsk on February 25, 2006. (The laws of Russia require a civil marriage prior to a temple sealing, as many countries do.) The next morning we set off on a trip to the Stockholm Sweden Temple. We boarded an airplane in Omsk and flew three hours to Moscow, where we spent the rest of the day. Then we took an overnight train to Saint Petersburg. Once there we got on a bus with other Latter-day Saints and traveled for eight hours to Helsinki, Finland. The last leg of our journey was an 11-hour ferry ride to Stockholm.
Finally, we had reached the temple.
For some, such a long trip may seem like a challenge, but in many ways, our trip across Europe made a great honeymoon.
The day of our sealing, March 1, 2006, was a great day—a day of peace and assurance. I knew that the person whose hand I was holding was the one I’d share eternity with. This thought alone filled me with great joy and gratitude to Heavenly Father for trusting me with His daughter for my wife. I felt closer to Him than ever before.

When an LDS classmate invited Horváth Attila, 16, to sacrament meeting, Attila liked what he saw.

“Then, when my friend told me the Church was very family-centered, I became even more interested.”

Within weeks, Attila was baptized.

Three months later, his father asked to hear the discussions. “I knew enough about the Church by that time,” says Attila, “that I could help my father learn about it. The knowledge I had received in seminary helped me explain the scriptures to him. But since he smoked and drank coffee a lot, I didn’t have the faith that he would be baptized. I was amazed when I saw how—with the help of our Heavenly Father—he was able to rid those things from his life. Two months later, I baptized my father!

“Then when my mother saw how happy my father and I were in the Church, she also started to be interested. I baptized her three months after baptizing my father! The next day, my whole family came to church and bore their testimonies. It’s not possible to describe what kind of feeling it was for me.”