Gospel Story Finder

During a trip to South America a few years ago, I spoke with a stake president whose stake had experienced over 50 percent unemployment during the previous three years. I knew the stake had received less than $200 from the Area office during that period. I asked him how the members had been able to survive without a large infusion of outside help. His answer was the families had helped each other—not just father, mother, sons, and daughters, but uncles, aunts, and cousins. When a cousin got a job, the money earned went to benefit everyone. In addition, ward members looked after each other and shared what they had, however so meager. With tears in his eyes he explained how close his stake members were to each other and to the Lord. Their spirituality had increased manyfold. Did they have the welfare program? Yes—and in its purest form.

At age seven, Joseph Smith contracted typhoid fever, and an infection settled in his leg. Dr. Nathan Smith was pioneering a procedure by which the infected leg could be saved. Without anesthesia, Dr. Smith would need to cut Joseph’s leg and actually remove portions of the infected bone. Joseph declined brandy to endure the pain and refused to be tied down but said, “I will have my father sit on the bed and hold me in his arms, and then I will do whatever is necessary.”1

What trials will our children face? Like Joseph Smith, our children can find the courage to “do whatever is necessary.” When we are intentional about holding them and teaching them of Heavenly Father’s plan through prayer and scriptures, they will come to know where they came from, why they are here, and where they are going.

Elder Oaks and I were privileged to join the Choir on that significant journey. Upon our return, we reported to President Ezra Taft Benson on 3 July 1991 the success of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s tour. Then we showed him certified copies of documents that attested to full recognition for the Church in the Republic of Russia. We shall never forget his look of joy. That has become one of our most cherished memories shared since our call to the Quorum of the Twelve in 1984. Poignantly, we recalled that President Benson had often referred to his own unforgettable experience when he had courageously spoken from the pulpit of a church in Moscow on 1 October 1959, telling the congregation:

“Our Heavenly Father is not far away. He can be very close to us. God lives, I know that He lives. He is our Father. Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the World, watches over this earth. He will direct all things. Be unafraid, keep His commandments, love one another, pray for peace and all will be well.”

President Benson noted that “as each sentence was translated for the congregation, I saw the women take their handkerchiefs and as one observer put it begin to ‘wave them like a mother bidding permanent goodby to her only son.’”

This prophet, who presided over the Church during the period described in this report, who had preached for freedom and pled with people everywhere to study the Book of Mormon and “sweep the earth as with a flood” (Moses 7:62) with its precious pages, lived to reap part of his harvest with news that the Church was fully recognized in the Republic of Russia!

In our personal and family lives, we will have different kinds of trials and challenges that test our faith, but one thing is for certain: we will all have many experiences that will require great faith in the Lord. I would like to share four experiences we have had to wrestle with.

Proceed with Marriage and Children
First, while dating Kristin, there was one thing that especially made me nervous. As a full-time student, I couldn’t support myself financially. How was I supposed to support myself, a new wife, and, in the near future, children? I came to realize that the critical question for me was whether or not I had sufficient faith to proceed, not only with marriage, but having children.

Tithing
Second, while going to graduate school, money was tight, tight, tight. We always paid our tithing, and whenever we had income, tithing was the first payment we made. One year at Christmastime, money was especially tight. After carefully studying our financial situation, knowing that Christmas to young children is magical and exciting, we knew we had a choice: purchase a simple Christmas for our four young children, or pay tithing for the month. I came to know for myself that tithing is a principle with a promise from the Lord.

Pregnancy Complications
Third, Kristin had severe complications with the pregnancies and births of our fifth- and sixth-born children. After extensive hospital stays and life-threatening conditions, Megan was born 10 weeks early and Suzanne was 5 weeks early. During these difficult pregnancies, Kristin and I wondered if our family would survive. It felt like these difficult moments would last an eternity.

We wanted to have as many children as the Lord wanted us to have, but we were anxious. We knew future pregnancies meant the possibility of more serious complications, and possibly even death for Kristin or the baby. After doing our homework by consulting with doctors that were wise and seasoned specialists, we felt a quiet impression that it would be okay to have another child. We are so grateful we listened to those feelings, because we went on to have three additional healthy children.

I also served on Christmas Day, alongside my stake president and his wife, teaching missionaries (Elder Logan and Elder Holt), and a family of two brothers from the stake who had not yet opened their presents.
Elder Logan said, “We had the opportunity to serve at a fish bar doing deliveries. We first heard about it from our Church leader, President Jason Spragg. It was so great to have the opportunity to be a part of such an amazing act of kindness and charity. We greatly respect the owners/workers of Victoria Fish Bar. We thoroughly enjoyed the chance to help spread some Christmas cheer and goodwill. We had the opportunity to deliver boxes of fish and chips to some local care homes in Cardiff for the workers who sacrifice so much time and care for our elderly community. It was a lovely experience and I encourage anyone to seek out those opportunities in their area.”
This was a day to feel united, as many volunteers turned up; so many we had to queue up to volunteer. It was such a humbling experience, one that will stay with me throughout my life. I have learned the importance of service and sacrifice through being a service missionary.

As the stagecoach lumbered through the dark night, Mama mumbled fretfully in her sleep. Eleven-year-old Elsie was too worried to even doze. Nervously she tucked the quilts tighter around her mother. Here on the high plains of Utah Territory it was cold.
The stagecoach lurched through a large chuckhole, rousing Mama. She said clearly, “John, just put the water by the stove.”
Alarm surged through Elsie. John was Papa’s name, but he was thousands of miles away on a mission in London. Touching Mama’s forehead, Elsie found it burning with fever. There was no water, nothing to help her. How she wished she’d never listened to that doctor. He’d advised her to take Mama to St. George, where it was warmer in the winter. But traveling seemed to make Mama worse.
“I’m Sister Reed,” a kind-faced woman across from her said. “Your mother is very sick, isn’t she?”
Elsie nodded.
“She needs rest and a comfortable bed.”
Sister Reed was right, but where would they find that in this sagebrush desert? Elsie turned to the man next to her. “Sir, when will we reach the next town?”
“There’s no town between here and Fillmore. The next stop is Cove Fort.” He looked kindly at the sick woman. “The Hinckleys run the fort for the Church. They’re real good folks. You could let your mother rest there. They have good food and clean rooms and only charge twenty-five cents a night.”
Elsie’s heart sank. Where would she get twenty-five cents?
Sister Reed saw the look on her face. “I’ve heard of Ira Hinckley and his sweet wife. She’ll take one look at your mama and put her to bed—won’t charge you a penny for it, either.”
Elsie stared at the woman in disbelief. “You mean they’d help us, and they don’t even know us?”
The woman smiled tiredly. “They’ll help you and be happy to do it. I plan to stay there for a day or two myself. All this bouncing around is hard on old bones.”
Just then Mama moaned and sat up. “John, could you bring me that pail of water. I’m so thirsty!”
Gently pushing her back, Elsie replaced the covers. All through that long, bumpy night she watched over her mother and prayed that they would find help at Cove Fort.
When the sun peeked up over the foothills, the man nudged her. Pointing to a dark spot off through the sagebrush, he said, “See that? That’s Cove Fort. We’ll get there about breakfast time. So hang on, little lady. We’ll have your ma in good hands real soon.”
Her heart hammering, Elsie prayed that what they told her was true. She prayed that the Hinckleys would take them in. She prayed that her mother would soon have a place to rest and get well.
As the stagecoach pulled up in front of the fort, Elsie’s heart sank. Built of limestone blocks with thick wooden doors, it looked solid, but rough. How could a sick woman find comfort in there?
Brother Hinckley swung open the doors as the stagecoach bumped to a stop. He greeted the driver as several young men hurried out of a bunkhouse next door and helped hitch fresh horses to the coach.
Sister Reed stepped out of the coach and spoke softly to Brother Hinckley. Soon Mama was carried from the coach through those heavy doors. Elsie followed close behind.
She saw that the fort was actually a big square. Though the outside of the fort was solid rock, inside, it was divided into rooms with doors and windows. Her mother was carried into one of the rooms and tucked into a soft straw bed on a rope mattress. Homemade quilts piled on the shivering woman comforted her.
Elsie heard Sister Reed whispering to Sister Hinckley. She caught the words “… husband just left … mission … baby.” Elsie listened fearfully. Was her mother going to have a baby? Was that why she was so sick?
Elsie thought of the two baby brothers who hadn’t lived more than a few days. Would that happen again?
While she was worrying, she noticed several young girls bustling around the fort. She counted seven Hinckley girls in all. One of them came and showed her into the dining room. There they served her fresh milk and warm bread, but the food stuck in her throat.
Sister Reed came and sat beside her. “Sister Hinckley’s taking care of your mama now. She thinks a good long rest will help her get well. You’re to stay here until your ma can travel again.”
“But I don’t have any money,” Elsie moaned. “What will I do?”
Sister Reed put her arm around Elsie. “Now don’t you worry about that. Just eat your meal.” She thanked the young woman who set a plate of food before her. “That gives me an idea,” she said, looking at the girl bustling around. “You could help the Hinckleys for your room and board.”
Elsie’s heart began to lighten. Could she really do that? “What could I do?”
Pointing to a girl about thirteen years old, Sister Reed said, “That young lady takes care of the milk from thirty cows. That’s a lot of work for one person.”
“I’d love to help! Before Papa left, we had lots of cows. Mama says that I make better cheese than most grown women.”
Sister Reed smiled at her. “Then offer your help. There’s much to be done in this world. If able, no one has the right to just sit around and let others do for them.”
Gladly Elsie helped wash the dishes. Then she asked where the milk was cared for and offered her help. Soon she and the young girl were chatting happily. With such cheerful company, it seemed to take just minutes to care for the milk.
Then Elsie crossed over to her mother’s room. Mama was sleeping quietly. Gently touching her forehead, Elsie found it cool. Laying her head down beside Mama, she gave thanks.
How tired she was, but how grateful! She knew that her prayers were being answered by good people willing to help a couple of strangers. How thankful she was to Heavenly Father for these good people.

Looking down the shorter corridor of more recent history, we see pioneers struggling through unimaginable hardships trekking westward to their beloved Zion.

Thirteen-year-old Mary Goble of the Hunt wagon company had already lost two younger sisters and a younger brother on the journey. As she and the rest of her family neared the Salt Lake Valley, her mother slipped away also. They arrived in Salt Lake City on December 11, 1856.

Mary wrote in her journal, “three out of the four that were living were frozen. My mother was dead in the wagon. When Brigham Young came in, he shook hands with all of us. When he saw our condition, our feet frozen and our mother dead, tears rolled down his cheeks. The doctor wanted to cut my feet off at the ankles, but President Young said, ‘No, just cut off the toes and I promise you that you will never have to take them off any farther,’…The doctor amputated my toes using a saw and a butcher knife. That afternoon, my mother was buried.”

But it wasn’t over. Mary married Richard Pay whose wife and baby girl had died on the westward trek. They had 13 children, three of whom died very young. After 21 years of marriage, and still with little children to care for, Mary’s oldest son died. One year later her husband passed away and the following year another son died. She lived another twenty years as a widow.

And we, through our tears, call down that corridor of years and cry with all the compassion within us, “Mary, O Mary, don’t give up. It’s all going to work out. We know the rest of the story! One of your grandchildren will be Marjorie Pay Hinckley, wife of a mighty prophet of God. O Mary, listen to his words about you.”

This is…a marvelous but simple faith, an unquestioning conviction that the God of Heaven in his power will make all things right and bring to pass his eternal purposes in the lives of his children.

We need so very, very much a strong burning of that faith in the living God and in his living, resurrected Son, for this was the great moving faith of our gospel forebears….With faith they sought to do his will. With faith they read and accepted divine teaching. With faith they labored until they dropped, always with a conviction that there would be an accounting to him who was their Father and their God.

“Mary, your story of faith will live on. The husband of your granddaughter will become the prophet whose words, “It will all work out,” will give hope to millions of us in our own trek through life.

But Mary, with dying mother and siblings and frozen toes cannot hear us. Mary, living in unspeakable poverty and losing two sons and a husband in three years, must not hear us. Through her wine press circumstances wherein her first-person faith was born and nurtured, Mary Pay would learn to lean on the Lord and submit her will to his…a true life drama with but one cast member and one director. It had to be just Mary and her Father in Heaven.

Look! There’s a honey bird. If we follow, it will lead us to honey,” exclaimed Kirmani to his young brother, Suku.
The two African boys, dressed in khaki shorts, were playing lion hunting on the edge of their village.
“Tye (Hurry)! Tye!” urged Suku.
Dropping their assegais (spears) they ran to their mother for gourds to gather the honey in. Then one of the boys lighted a torch from the cooking fire to smoke out the bees.
“Be sure to leave some honey for the bird,” called their mother as they ran off.
“Nidyo (Yes),” Suku answered while Kirmani laughed.
“Don’t you believe the old tale that you must leave a share of honey for the bird, or it will lead you into danger?” asked Suku.
“That is women’s and old men’s talk,” replied Kirmani scornfully.
“But what of Abu’s father who took all the honey from a hive. He was led on by the bird, so they say, and ended up in a leopard’s belly,” persisted Suku.
Kirmani didn’t argue. He picked up the assegais.
Suku carried the gourds and Kirmani the smoldering torch of grease-soaked moss tied to a long stick.
As they trotted across the veldt dotted with wait-a-bit thornbush, a little gray bird flew back and forth just as though it were making sure they would follow. After the bird led them into the forest, it disappeared into the dense foliage. Kirmani ran ahead, but Suku was thinking. Should I leave honey for the bird even though Kirmani won’t?
“Look! There’s the bird. It’s following the old animal trail,” Kirmani called excitedly.
When Suku caught up, the bird had settled on a branch of a moss-covered tree. Bees were streaming in and out through a small hole in the trunk. “The bird has guided us to honey!” cried Suku, clapping his hands.
Kirmani poked at the hole with his assegai. Rotting wood fell away, leaving a big opening. He thrust the torch inside and smoked out the angry bees.
Suku stood on Kirmani’s shoulders to reach a branch near the hole. He pulled himself up onto the branch and then peered inside. “There is much honey,” he called gleefully.
Kirmani scrambled up the tree and with sticks the boys scraped honey into their gourds. The bird hovered above them, crying plaintively.
When Suku had all the honey he could reach, he slid down the tree. Kirmani scraped out the last bit, licked his stick, then dropped to the ground.
“Nothing for the silly bird,” he said boldly.
The bird lit on the bee tree but soon flew off, calling anxiously.
“It’s coaxing us on,” said Kirmani. “It may guide us to another hive. Suku, you’re not afraid the bird will lead us into danger are you?” He ran ahead. “I dare you to follow it.”
Suku hesitated. We’re getting deeper into the jungle, he thought uneasily. We should have left the bird a share of honey. But he couldn’t ignore a dare. Reluctantly he started to follow.
Suddenly Suku heard a crack, a swoosh, and a frightened cry from Kirmani. He raced ahead and found his brother with his legs pinned beneath a heavy branch from a tree. He tried to lever the branch off Kirmani’s legs with his assegai, but the spear shaft broke.
“Ayah! Ayah! I am going to die,” moaned Kirmani. “The old tale is true. The bird is having its revenge.”
“I will go and tell father,” said Suku and thrusting an assegai into Kirmani’s hand, he ran off for help.
Kirmani groaned with pain. He could hardly move, and he was alone in the jungle with danger all around him. Maybe the honey birdwill bring a leopard to kill me, he thought despairingly. Nervously, he peered around. To his astonishment, the bird was perched on a branch overhead.
“It has not flown off to find a leopard,” he murmured half aloud. “It’s only eyeing my honey gourd.” Some of his fear left him.
Kirmani’s gourd was sitting on the ground nearby. With his assegai, he nudged it and spilled some honey. He kept still. Presently the bird flew down and began eating the amber treat.
As Kirmani watched, he remembered what Brother Andrew, his teacher, had said about the honey bird not wanting to seek revenge. The thought made him feel better.
Soon Suku returned with their father and a rescue party. They lifted the heavy branch off Kirmani’s leg, made a vine litter, and carried him home.
While Brother Andrew dressed his wounds, Kirmani told his story. “You must know now that the bird was guiding you to another bee tree because it was hungry,” Brother Andrew explained. “It cannot get the honey for itself and you left it nothing. Don’t you think the honey guide deserved a share?”
Kirmani felt ashamed. “Suku wanted to leave some for the honey bird, but I didn’t understand. From now on when the little bird guides me to honey, I won’t be greedy. I will always leave it a share.”

On decisions: “Decisions ought to be made in favor of our Heavenly Father. When I had an opportunity as a young woman to become a contralto with the Metropolitan Opera, I told them I’d have to pray about it. I also studied my patriarchal blessing, which promised me that my success would come in the service of the Lord. So I came home and rejoined the Tabernacle Choir.” She has the longest service record in the choir—over fifty years—making the phrase “He that hath clean hands and a pure heart” from “King of Glory” not only a sermon in song but a symbol of her life.

Once we went to a children’s play center. One of the activities was a very tall hill, which you had to climb up using a rope. I tried to do it many times, but I could only make it three-quarters of the way. Just before I could reach the top, I would fall and slide down to the bottom of the hill.
I felt like I would never be able to reach the top. Then an employee quickly climbed up the hill and gave me her hand from there. With her help, I easily got to the top.
At that moment I thought about Jesus. He does the same for us. When we do the best we can but still aren’t reaching our goal, He gives His helping hand to us. This experience was very spiritual for me, and I will remember it all my life.

Readers
Anger is an emotion everyone is subject to at one time or another. The difference is that some people learn to control their anger while others don’t. If you lose your temper, then you’re not in control. Satan is.
Something that helped me was to watch other people to see what they looked like when they lost their tempers. When I saw how foolish other people looked, I made a promise to myself to practice self-control and not lose my temper. I am learning patience.
Kurtis Hyde, 19Lovelock, Nevada
We all get mad for one thing or another. That’s normal. But blowing up at someone doesn’t solve anything. It only worsens the situation. Think before you burst. Stupid or silly acts are committed by those who don’t think. Some people try to make you mad. Disappoint them and respond nicely. You may need to count from one to ten and back again to gain composure before you say anything, but don’t give in to thoughtless action. In time, you’ll master your temper, and you’ll learn a lot about patience. “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Prov. 15:1).
Tonya Stock, 20Sandy, Utah
I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. My temper had a very short fuse. The way I overcame my “short fuse” was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting mad at people nearly as often.
Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana
I lose my temper easily. I was told by my mom that when I get angry I should use these statements: When you _____, I feel _____ because I have _____. For example, I might say, “When you interrupt me, I feel hurt because I have something important I’d like to tell you.” Try it; it helps.
Jennifer Snow, 12Veneta, Oregon
I understand where you’re coming from. Anger is a funny thing, and it’s a shame that we are sometimes victimized by our emotions. We each have weaknesses to overcome and grow from. Let me share with you some suggestions that helped me: (1) Delay. When you delay, you “cool it.” Count to ten, leave the scene that caused the feeling before you erupt, or take some deep breaths. (2) Identify the anger. Where is it coming from? How was it caused? And how can it be avoided? (3) Go someplace where you can be alone, get on your knees, and tell the whole thing to Heavenly Father. (4) Ask the Lord for help. Pray that he will take the anger from your heart and replace it with peace and forgiveness. He has promised in Ether 12:27 that if we are humble before him, he will “make weak things become strong.”
Elder Thomas F. Smith, 19Birmingham, Alabama
I’d like to start by saying I have the same problem, but I’ve learned to control my problem. Every once in a while I may burst out and tell the person off, but later I apologize. Honestly, I think you can learn to control it. Until then pray and think about how you are hurting the other person.
Tammy Booth, 14Geneva, Alabama
The actions you take when you are angry can be damaging to others. Instead of yelling and throwing things, you should take time out and think over the problem. Did you overreact? Was that person feeling well, or was there something wrong with them? Were you in a bad mood? Staying angry isn’t good. The best thing to do is talk it out, forgive, and forget.
Vicky M. Brugger, 14Rochester, New York
I’ve got a real bad temper, too. People used to irritate me with the littlest things. Sometimes it got so bad that I’d yell at someone just for touching me. The worst part about it was that it was usually my family. But I found that I have a vitamin deficiency that was causing me to be irritable. I also realized I needed to learn to love. The Savior loved everyone, even those who betrayed him.
Believe me, my little brother gets so irritating I want to kick him.
But I asked my Father in Heaven, not to make him be nice to me, but to help me be nice to him. And it really works. He’s not less irritating, but I’m less touchy about it.
Sheila Webb, 17Sunnyvale, California

Before we think more about the most important decisions and how we can best decide, let me remind all of us that every decision in life should not carry equal weight. I will share with you an experience I had many years ago in accompanying Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Twelve to a stake conference where the stake presidency was to be reorganized. As part of the process, many of the leaders of the stake are briefly interviewed to seek their counsel and to let the presiding authority get to know them. As this was transpiring, a good man began the interview, not by answering Elder Maxwell's questions, but by saying that he had a personal dilemma on which he wanted some counsel from the apostle. He said that he had a good job and that he and his family were pleased with their current location and circumstances but that he had been offered other enticing employment in another part of the country that would require a move. He said he had carefully considered his options and prayed about them but had received no specific answer and now he was looking to the General Authority to tell him what he should do.

As an observer myself these many years ago, I was very interested to see how Elder Maxwell might respond. He was kind and asked the good man a further question or two to make sure that he really understood the fellow's dilemma and then inquired as to whether or not the Lord's answer might be a phrase that occurs in our scriptures many times. This is the phrase: "It mattereth not." Note that Elder Maxwell didn't tell the good brother that it did not matter, but he did teach him that some decisions may not have earthshaking or eternal consequences. I don't know what the man's final decision was, but it was a great tutorial for me.

Elder Maxwell made reference, as I recall, that he was wearing brown shoes that day but also had some black shoes at home and had not spent much time or effort deciding which ones he should wear to the stake conference. I don't know whether the man was satisfied or not with the counsel, but I learned an important lesson.

“On two different occasions I have tried to approach friends about the missionary discussions but was rejected!” said 16-year-old Mari. “I was embarrassed when they let me know that they weren’t interested in finding out about our church.”
Mari is an attractive, intelligent high school student. She attends seminary and comes from a devout, missionary-minded family. And I can understand her frustration at wanting to do what the prophet has asked us to do, yet seeming to alienate good friends in her attempts to do so.
There is no question but what a successful missionary experience is rewarding, but how can we avoid the unpleasant ones? Perhaps we can’t experience 100 percent success, but let’s try a few other approaches.
Robin was just 19 years old when she enlisted in the navy and was assigned to the East Coast of the United States. Her roommate was an LDS girl whom she quickly grew to love.
“I admired my roommate’s way of life, her high ideals and standards. She stood for everything that I wanted to have in my life. I wanted to be in her company and those who shared her standards. I wished and longed for an invitation to join in the activities of her youth group but was never given an opportunity to join them.”
A few months later Robin was transferred to the West Coast in another navy installation. Unusual as it seemed, her new roommate also proved to be an LDS girl. As they talked together on their first night it became apparent that this Church group was just as busy as the other group had been. The difference was that Robin was immediately invited to accompany her new roommate to all of these functions.
Within a few weeks Robin began the missionary discussions and was baptized. She became the best member missionary in the area and was constantly bringing fellow workers to Church functions so that they could investigate the Church. As soon as she was discharged from the navy, Robin was called as a full-time missionary.
A second experience concerns an elder serving in our mission, who gave this account of his conversion:
“During my first year in high school I became aware of a small group of fellow students who seemed to have a tightly knit bond of fellowship between them. They acted differently from the rest of the students. Their language was clean, their standards were high, even their appearance was different. They were not on drugs, and they did not smoke or drink. I admired them and tried to become acquainted with them.
“They were always having such a good time together, holding their own parties, dances, and other socials. I was told by someone that they belonged to the LDS church, but that did not matter to me. I still wanted to belong to their group.
“I hinted as much as I dared that I would like to attend some of their socials, but they didn’t take the hint. Finally in my senior year, I summoned the courage to ask them outright if I could possibly attend some of their socials, even though I was not a member of their church.
“Within a few weeks I was baptized into their church, and here I am now, about a year and a half later, on a mission for our church. When I see how difficult it is to find converts in the mission field, I wonder why these fellow students of mine found it so difficult to invite me to go with them.”
As I was interviewing the young people in our ward as their bishop. I asked each of them: “Are you going out with anyone who is not a member of our church?”
Susan said, “I go out with Bill. We know each other very well. We’re good friends.”
“Do you know him well enough to invite him to our student ward party?” I asked.
Susan brought Bill to our party and our ward missionaries did the rest. Bill is now in the bishopric in Houston, Texas, after having served a mission for the Church. And Bill and Susan’s experience has been duplicated all over the Church.
Does this give you any ideas? How many of your friends would like to attend your socials, your dances, your outings? How many would like to join you in all the fun times you have? Is this not an easy and inoffensive way to introduce them to the gospel of Jesus Christ? In most cases you can let the missionaries invite them to take the discussions and to teach them.
I recall when my wife and I invited our teenage sons and daughters to take a challenge, one which they accepted. They were to pray earnestly that the Lord would help them identify a person they were to help come into the Church. There would be no time limit. They were to pray and search and wait until the Spirit spoke to them, until they found that special person who would accept the invitation to either participate with them in a Church activity or to listen to the message of our missionaries.
We promised them that they would know for sure because it would be just as though the Lord were pointing his finger at that person. They were also to pray that they would know what to say to that person at the time.
One son returned in about two weeks with the story that he definitely had been impressed to approach a young man who sat by him at the university. He approached him about the Church and was rejected. Naturally he felt discouraged and questioned the validity of our project.
“Did you truly love him?” I asked. “Or were you just trying to compile a statistic? Did you have love in your heart and in your eyes when you approached him? Were you listening to the Spirit to help you as you approached him?”
“Let me try again,” our son asked. “Let me fast and pray about it. Then I`ll try again.”
After fasting and praying about it, he still felt impressed that this was the young man he should introduce to the Church. He approached him once more, this time with great love in his heart, in his eyes, and in his soul. The young man agreed to meet with our son and the missionaries to learn about the Church.
Not only was the young man baptized but his inactive wife was reactivated and their three children will now have the blessings of being reared in an LDS home.
Even a young man who was going out with one of our daughters (later became her husband) accepted the challenge to pray and search for someone who would accept the missionary message. He was directed to a friend whom he had known all his life but had never approached about our Church. Within a month this young man was baptized into the Church.
Everyone has a different approach, one that seems in keeping with that individual’s personality and that he feels comfortable with. Although the person we talk to may not join the Church now, he may accept the message later. We are convinced that some of these individuals will come into the fold sometime in their lives.
Whether we accept the fact or not, we are different from the world if we are living what we believe. Let me tell you about two of our missionaries.
It was the dinner hour, and it was raining without any sign of stopping. In spite of the rain, these two missionaries continued tracting. But let the father in one of these homes tell what happened that night:
“I had come home from work tired and hungry and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. I might also add that I dislike ‘door knockers’ and salesmen.
“I had just sat down to my dinner when the knock on the door came. I don’t know what I expected to find at the door, but I didn’t intend to be very pleasant about the disturbances at this particular hour.
“Perhaps I was too stunned at first to be angry, but for some reason or other I did not slam the door in their faces. There in the doorway stood two young men, smiling from ear to ear and literally beaming as they told me that they had a special message for me and my family. I still don’t know what prompted me to invite them to come in, except that there was something very special about them. There was a certain quality about them that I had never experienced before.
“I can tell you that when I invited them to come into our home. I also invited the greatest blessings that have ever come into my life and the life of my family. Yes, we were all baptized into the LDS church.”
In Doctrine and Covenants 88:67 [D&C 88:67], we are told: “And if your eye be single to my glory, your whole bodies shall be filled with light.” We are different when we are living the way the Savior taught us to live. Our bodies will be filled with light, and people will become aware of this.
A man came into the mission home one day asking to know more about our church. “I sat on an airplane next to one of your members,” he said, “and I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again. He told me about his family and the love they had between them. His face almost glowed as he talked.”
This man was far more worldly than the average man on the street. “I know I will have to make some drastic changes in my life, but I want what that man has. My family means a lot to me,” he said.
If we live what we believe, our example may serve as an effective missionary for us and for the Church, especially for those who are searching for the “more excellent way” (Ether 12:11). There are many people who admire our way of life and our standards of conduct. They want this way of life for themselves and for their families.
Doctrine and Covenants 123:12 [D&C 123:12] tells us that “there are many yet on the earth among all sects … who are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it.” So how can we help them find it? How can we be effective member missionaries?
It just might be that your best method is to be your best self. Be friendly and be sharing. Invite those around you who are not members of our church to share with you the fun and the joy that they may be secretly wishing they could also have.
Instead of losing friends, you may develop friendships that will endure through this life and the life to come.

“Last night I woke up and started to cry,” she said quietly.
“What for?”
“The problem I face is, what if your teachings are true?”
“They are.”
“Mark, you can’t be right. God would’ve told more people. How many Mormons are there?”
“Four million.”
“And those four million are right, and everybody else is wrong?”
“The priesthood has been restored.”
“I know that’s what you believe.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked her. “What’s really bothering you?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you. My mother. All last night I worried about my mother. She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she said, fighting back the tears. While she waited to gain composure, she picked up a small gold leaf from the ground and examined it.
“My mother was a good person. Dad and Mom were always dedicated Christians. I never was. When I was 14, I rebelled against them. I did everything I could to hurt them. When I was 17, I ran away from home. I wound up in California, living with a group of other girls who had also left their homes. We were pretty wild.
“One day I went with some other girls to hear an evangelist speak. We went on a lark, but as he spoke, my heart softened and all the bitterness left me. I made a promise to dedicate my whole life to Jesus. As soon as I could scrape up the money, I took a bus home.
“All the way home on the bus, I thought how happy Mom and Dad would be to see that I’d finally accepted Jesus as my Savior. When I arrived home, I found that my mother had died four weeks earlier. She never saw me as a Christian. We were never united as a family.”
She let the leaf slip from her hand and fall to the ground. “What about my mother? Is she to be condemned for never hearing about Joseph Smith?”

The following personal experience integrates several of the points I have attempted to emphasize today. Every time I contemplate this event, I am moved by how kind the Lord is in answering our pleas for help. It occurred some time ago when I had responsibilities in Mexico and Central America that were far beyond my personal capacity to fulfil. I spent much sincere effort in seeking guidance and understanding from the Lord in study, prayer, fasting, and anxious service. Help came unexpectedly one Sunday as I attended a meeting where a humble, unschooled, Mexican priesthood leader struggled to communicate truths of the gospel identified in his lesson manual. It was obvious they had touched his life profoundly. I felt his intense desire to communicate those principles because they would be of great worth to his brethren. In his manner there was evidence of a pure love of the Savior and love for those he taught.

That love, sincerity, and purity of intent permitted a spirit to envelop the room. I was so touched that in addition to receiving again a witness of the truths he presented, I began to receive some personal impressions as an extension of those principles taught by the humble instructor. These impressions, intended for me personally, were related to my assignments in the area. They came in answer to my prolonged efforts to learn.

As each impression came, I wrote it down. I was given precious truths needed for me to be more effective. The specific counsel began with this impression: “Continue to build the Church on the foundation of true principles, but with increased expression of love and appreciation for the great Lamanite people.” There followed matters of great benefit to me.

Next I visited the Sunday School class, where a well-educated individual presented his lesson. That experience was a striking contrast to that of the priesthood meeting. It seemed as though the instructor had purposely chosen obscure references and unusual examples to illustrate the principles in the lesson. I will confess that I had the distinct impression that he was using the teaching opportunity to impress the class with his vast store of knowledge. He did not seem as intent on communicating truth as the humble priesthood leader had been.

This experience also created an environment where strong impressions flowed. I wrote them down. One paragraph began, “Testify to instruct, edify, and lead others to full obedience, not to demonstrate anything of self. All who are puffed up shall be cut off.” Another signaled, “You are nothing in and of yourself, Richard.” That was followed with some specific counsel on how to be a better servant. The impressions became so personal that I felt it inappropriate to record them in the midst of a Sunday School class. I sought a more private location. There I continued to write the feelings that flooded into my mind and heart as accurately and as faithfully as possible. After each powerful impression was recorded, I meditated upon it and pondered the feelings I had received to determine if I had accurately interpreted them. Then I studied their meaning and application in my own personal life.

Subsequently I prayed, expressing to the Lord what I thought I had felt. There came a feeling of peace and serenity when it was confirmed. I asked if there was yet more that I should be given to understand. There came further impressions, and the process was repeated until I received the most precious, specific direction for which I will ever be grateful.

This event embodies several principles I feel are true regarding communication from the Lord to his children here on earth. I believe that we often do not learn the truths the Lord would freely share because we do not in humility earnestly seek light. We also can leave the most precious personal direction of the Spirit unheard because we do not strive to understand, value, use, remember, and expand the first promptings that come to us when we are in need or when impressions come in response to earnest, intense prayer.

Wyoming can be a cold and snowy place in the wintertime. That’s why one troop decided to make snowshoes. During the fall they were looking ahead to the Klondike derby coming up in January. They wanted an activity that could prepare them for winter camping.
Under the direction of their Scoutmaster and deacons quorum adviser, the young men went online to find a pattern and instructions for making snowshoes out of rawhide and wood. “We realized this project was going to take a long time,” says Sam F., deacons quorum president, “but we were all excited, and we had a plan.”
As the young men worked on their snowshoe frames, they discussed how they could help others in the quorum who were less active, and they made a plan to visit them. “We visited every boy on our list and invited them to come to Scouts,” Sam says. “We told them we were making snowshoes for the winter campout coming up.” Having a clear goal was helpful in drawing other boys to the troop.
As the snowshoes progressed, so did the quorum. Six young men started the snowshoe project, but soon others joined in, including one of another faith.
John B.’s friend, Timothy N., was active in his church, but it didn’t have a Scout troop, so he started coming with his friend. His brother, Thomas, even joined the ward’s 11-year-old Scout patrol and earned his religious award. He was then presented with the award at his own church service.
While the young men and leaders worked, they made religious connections between wrapping the rawhide tightly and bringing their quorum together.
Jacob D. started coming regularly to the Scout meetings. His mother, Heather P., later thanked the troop for welcoming her son and their family. Other young men who had never attended church came to the Scout meetings to make snowshoes.
By January, the snowshoes were finished and each young man had a pair to use during the Klondike derby. Aiden H. said what they all felt about making snowshoes: “It was fun because we got to use them!”
“We learned a lot about enduring to the end on a project and about strengthening our quorum through Scouting,” Sam says. “My snowshoes will last a long time, and whenever I see them I’ll remember this experience, as well as the great friends we made in our troop and quorum.”

Illustrative of this is a story still carried in the family lore of Brigham Young’s descendants but, so far as I know, never recorded. It says that in a meeting the Prophet rebuked Brigham Young from his head to his feet for something he had done, or something he was supposed to have done but hadn’t—the detail is unclear. And it may well have been that the Prophet was deliberately putting Brigham Young to a test. When he had finished the rebuke, everyone in the room waited for the response. Brigham Young rose to his feet. He was a strong man. He could have responded: “Now, look, haven’t you read that you’re not supposed to rebuke in public, but only in private?” Or, “Brother Joseph, doesn’t it say something in the revelations about persuasion, and long-­suffering, and gentleness and meekness?” Or, “You’re dead wrong. It’s not so.” But he said none of the above. In a voice everyone could tell was sincere, he said simply, “Joseph, what do you want me to do?” And the story says that the Prophet burst into tears, came down from the stand, threw his arms around Brigham, and said, in effect, “Brother Brigham, you passed.”

Doodling cartoons on his math and spelling tests at school may not have earned Val Chadwick Bagley higher scores, but his teachers probably had a blast grading his papers.
“I’ve always wanted to be a cartoonist,” Val says. He would draw every chance he could. On his mission, for example, he kept a regular journal and four complete cartoon journals on top of that.
Elder Bagley serving as a missionary in Virginia, USA, in 1978.
While serving as a missionary in Virginia, Elder Bagley mailed in a cartoon to the New Era. The cartoon was picked up and printed in the March 1978 issue, exactly 40 years ago this month.
Val’s first cartoon sent to the New Era and published in 1978.
“In my mind, I had reached the big time!” Val says. He’d grown up reading and loving the New Era, especially the cartoons. Seeing a cartoon of his own in its pages was a dream come true.
Val has been a regular contributing cartoonist to the New Era ever since. If you’ve read “The Extra Smile” (now included in “Fun Stop”), you know his stuff. He’s also done loads of other projects in his cartooning career, including publishing over 100 books, games, and other items. Yet whenever somebody asks Val what he does for a living, he always has the same answer.
“I always tell them that drawing for the New Era is the pinnacle of my accomplishments.” (The New Era thinks you’re awesome too, Val!)
Published March 2003
Published Oct. 2004
It hasn’t been all fun and laughter, though. There have been some major setbacks along the way.
Val remembers hitting his own personal rock bottom. He’d been working for several years designing cheese and hot-dog labels for an advertisement company. Then that company went out of business. He’d attempted college four different times without finishing a single term. He was close to bankruptcy and running out of options. He didn’t know what to do next.
So he went to the temple for guidance. While there, he picked up the Book of Mormon and opened to Helaman 12:2. Val read about how the Lord prospered His people “in the increase of their fields, their flocks and their herds, and in gold, and in silver, and in all manner of precious things of every kind and art.” His eyes landed and stayed on the word art.
“It was an answer to prayer,” Val said. The next day, he launched his cartoon business. He’s been going strong ever since.
Published Feb. 1997
Published July 1996
Val believes we’re all given gifts and that “you get to decide what to do with your talents.” Artists can portray literally any subject under the sun. For Val, he chooses to use his time and energy strengthening others in the gospel with his cartoons. “I’ve especially enjoyed working on anything that has to do with the Book of Mormon.”
For the past 40 years, Val’s cartoons have made you laugh, lifted your spirits, and brightened your days one punchline at a time. And that’s been his goal all along.
“I feel so blessed and fortunate that I get to do this,” he says.

While serving in Finland, I learned that my mission president’s wife, Sister Lea Mahoney, was a native of Finland. As a young girl she had grown up in the eastern portion of Finland in a city named Viipuri. As the ravages of war engulfed Finland and other countries during World War II, she and her family left their home, and Viipuri became part of the Soviet Union and was renamed Vyborg. In our zone conferences, Sister Mahoney would tell us of those left behind in Viipuri and of her desire that the gospel be taken to them. Following President Kimball’s challenge, we unitedly prayed that the hearts of the leaders of that nation would be softened so that the gospel could be taken by our missionaries into the Soviet Union.
We would go to the border between Finland and the Soviet Union and see the guard towers and the fences, and we would wonder who those brave young men and young women would be and when they would cross that border to take the gospel to the people there. I must admit, at that time it seemed like an impossible task.
Three years ago, our son Eric received a mission call to serve in the Russia St. Petersburg Mission. In his first letter home, he wrote something like this: “Dear Mom and Dad, I have been assigned to my first city in Russia. Dad, you may have heard of it before. It is called Vyborg, but it was previously a Finnish city named Viipuri.”
Tears came to my eyes as I understood that Eric was in the very city we had prayed about 32 years earlier. Eric found a chapel there and a branch of faithful Saints. He was living and serving in a place that to me as a young man had seemed impossible to enter.
I did not realize those many years ago, as we prayed for the borders to open and the missionaries to go in, that I was praying for our son. Most importantly for you of the rising generation, our son Eric did not realize that he and his companions were the answer to the prayers that had been offered by thousands of faithful Saints so many years ago. You of the rising generation are the fulfillment of prophecy that in our day “the truth of God will go forth boldly, nobly, and independent, till it has penetrated every continent, visited every clime, swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done” (Joseph Smith, in History of the Church, 4:540).

On one occasion, one of my counselors, J. B. Haws, and I were walking between apartment complexes when we met a young man in the parking lot. We stopped to say hello and found out that he was moving out of our stake. We talked for a moment and discovered that he was a returned missionary facing questions about his faith. My counselor is a master teacher who connects with people easily. Answering questions like these was natural and normal for J. B. I could see in this young man’s eye a light that may have been missing for some time reappear as they talked.
It was obvious that J. B. was interested in him and in his questions and concerns. The young man opened himself up because J. B. showed compassion. My counselor’s “bowels were filled” with love, and he had a desire to understand this young man without judging him. J. B. asked if we could visit him once he settled into his new apartment. The young man nodded, mobile numbers were exchanged, and a promise to follow up with him was made.
Before we left, we asked if there was anything we could do to help. He said, “Stopping to say hello was one of the most important things you could have done for me today.” Later that evening, I thought to myself, “If J. B. and I had not been out ministering, we may never have met this young man.”
It seems the Lord knew that we would be ministering that evening, so He placed this young man in our path—trusting we would see him and minister to him.