Gospel Story Finder

While my family and I were saying family prayer, I felt something I had never felt before. I felt this feeling when my mom was praying for a visitor of ours to be guided and protected. The feeling was warm and good. I felt that Heavenly Father would help me in my life and that He loves me. Lately I’ve been tempted with bad thoughts about the Church, but after feeling this good feeling, I feel good. I feel I have my own testimony now. I know the Church is true. I know Joseph Smith translated the golden plates and that they are the words of Heavenly Father. I felt the Holy Ghost tell me that, and I know it’s true.
Alex M., age 7, Utah, USA

Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles reminds us how we can have spiritual light: “When I was a boy, I used to ride my bicycle home from basketball practice at night. I would connect a small pear-shaped generator to my bicycle tire. Then as I pedaled, the tire would turn a tiny rotor, which produced … a single, welcome beam of light. … I learned quickly that if I stopped pedaling my bicycle, the light would go out. I also learned that when I was ‘anxiously engaged’ in pedaling, the light would become brighter and the darkness in front of me would be [forced away].”
Elder Hales explains that “spiritual light comes from daily spiritual pedaling. It comes from praying, studying the scriptures, fasting, and serving—from living the gospel and obeying the commandments” (“Out of Darkness into His Marvelous Light,” Ensign, May 2002, 71).

My patriarchal blessing, received at age 13 from a beloved grandfather, includes this statement: “[Your Heavenly Father] sent you forth in this last and glorious dispensation that you might be born under the new and everlasting covenant by goodly, righteous parents.” With deepest appreciation I acknowledge that this has been the great foundational blessing of my life. I pay tribute to my parents and with love acknowledge my debt to them and to their parents and generations beyond. Not long after my call to the Seventy, I had occasion to be standing at the grave of one of those ancestors who had died years before I was born. As I contemplated the sacrifices entailed upon him and his family by their acceptance of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, a sense of gratitude flooded my heart and a resolve welled up in me to honor his sacrifice and that of those who came after by being faithful to God and the gospel covenants, as they were.

“Look! There she is—let’s get her!”
Mrs. Goodson was outside, calling her kitten. “Ready, set—now!” the boys started to pelt the elderly lady with snowballs that they had been making.
Startled, Mrs. Goodson turned towards her attackers. “You boys—get on to school! Stop that!” One of the snowballs hit a stinging blow to her forehead. She cried out.
“We’d better get out of here!”
Most of the boys ran off, but one of them hesitated. He had seen Mrs. Goodson fall. A hard tug on his sleeve spun him around.
“C’mon, Jake! She’ll be OK. But we won’t if we go back there. Come on!”
Jake joined the others as they ran to school.
All day long, though, Jake couldn’t get Mrs. Goodson out of his mind. He kept remembering the way she fell—and the way he ran away. He’d pass her house on the way home from school. He wanted to see if she was all right, but he was afraid. He knew that what they had done was wrong.
Jake had moved to town right before school started. His next-door neighbor was the first boy he’d met who was his own age, and Jake had begun hanging around with him and his friends, even though he often felt uncomfortable around them. Sometimes they did mean things to people and thought it was funny. Sometimes they talked about cutting school or doing things even worse. Jake realized that he’d better find some new friends before he got in trouble with them—if it wasn’t already too late. …
As he turned the corner, a boy that Jake remembered seeing at school was coming out of Mrs. Goodson’s garage. The boy was holding a gray-and-white kitten.
“Hi, Jake.” The boy hurried toward Jake, who stood on the other side of Mrs. Goodson’s fence. “Do you live around here? Do you remember me? I’m Jeremy Slater. We have science class together.” The boy’s nose was red from the cold, but his smile was genuine and his eyes were friendly.
“Sure—hi, Jeremy. Yeah, I live just down the street. Do you live here?”
“No, my grandma lives here, and I’m staying with her after school until my mom gets off work. Do you want to come in? We’ll have to be quiet, because my grandma isn’t feeling well today.”
Jake studied the snow on the fence post. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Some punk kids threw snowballs at her this morning. One of them hit her in the head, and she fell. She had to get a cast on her ankle—I guess she broke it when she fell.”
Jake swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I’d better get going. My mother gets upset if I’m late coming home from school. See you.” Jake ran almost all the way home.
That night, Jake knelt to pray. He hadn’t prayed much in his life, but he was troubled, and he hoped that prayer would help. His family didn’t have a regular church they attended, and most of their prayers were at the dinner table. He had heard that some people prayed both at night and in the morning, that they talked to God like He really listened and would help them.
Jake didn’t know where to begin, so he just bowed his head and started to talk to Heavenly Father. He prayed for help in finding new friends. He prayed for Mrs. Goodson. He prayed for the heavy feeling inside of him to go away. He fell asleep later that night with a strange warmness about him—the way he’d felt when he was little and fell asleep in his mother’s arms.
The next morning, Saturday, he remembered everything that had happened the day before. He made up his mind to apologize to Mrs. Goodson.
When his chores were done, he told his mother where he’d be. His heart raced as he approached Mrs. Goodson’s house. He hoped that Jeremy wouldn’t be there. It was going to be hard enough to talk to Mrs. Goodson, and he figured that he’d eventually have to tell Jeremy, too. Jake liked Jeremy and hoped that they could be friends. But if Jeremy knows that I was one of the boys who threw snowballs at his grandma, Jake thought, he won’t want to have anything to do with me.
It was Jeremy who answered the doorbell. “Hi, Jake. Come on in.”
Jake stepped into the hallway but stayed next to the door. “Actually, Jeremy, I came to see your grandmother. Can she have company?”
“She’d love it! Grandma’s cool. She’s fun to be around.” Jeremy led the way into the living room, where his grandmother was sitting with her leg propped up on pillows, the kitten beside her.
“I didn’t know you knew Grandma. Come on in.”
Mrs. Goodson’s cast was bright white except for the large Jeremy scrawled on it with a bright blue marker. She set aside the afghan she’d been working on and looked up at Jake.
“Hello, Mrs. Goodson, I’m Jake Lowder.” Jake took a deep breath. “I’m one of the boys who hurt you yesterday, and I’m sorry. I don’t know why it happened. …” He stood there staring down at his feet, waiting to be thrown out of the house. Or yelled at. Or something.
“Jeremy, why don’t you go into the kitchen and start some popcorn and hot chocolate for you boys. I’d like to speak to Jake alone.” Mrs. Goodson smiled at her grandson. “It will be all right.”
Jake saw the shock on Jeremy’s face and watched him head reluctantly toward the kitchen, glancing back to make sure that his grandmother really would be OK.
“Jake, sit down.” She patted the stool next to her ankle. “It took a lot of courage for you to come see me today. Do you want to tell me about it?”
Jake nodded, but he had a hard time speaking. He hadn’t expected to be treated this nicely. He was in the middle of his story when Jeremy poked his head in the doorway. Jake motioned for him to come in, feeling it would be easier to explain everything to both of them at once.
“You see, Mrs. Goodson, I never meant any harm. I’ve already decided not to hang around with those guys anymore.” He hesitated, then blurted out, “I even prayed about you last night.”
“Tell me, Jake,” Mrs. Goodson said. “Tell me about your prayer. What church does your family go to?”
Jake explained that his family didn’t have a regular church. He told her what he’d heard about prayer, and he shared some of what he prayed about with her.
“Jake, in our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we call what you’re doing ‘repentance.’ Do you know what repentance is?”
Jake nodded. “It means to feel bad about something you’ve done wrong and to not do it again.”
Mrs. Goodson smiled. “That’s right, Jake. You have already admitted that you have done something wrong, and you have prayed for forgiveness. Now you are asking me to forgive you. Do you see that your prayers are being answered?” Mrs. Goodson smiled again.
Jake raised his head. “Is there anything else I should do, Mrs. Goodson?”
“Yes, Jake, two things. One you’ve also already done—you’ve promised to never again throw snowballs to hurt someone. The last thing is to try to make restitution to that person whom you have wronged. Do you know what restitution is?”
Jake shook his head.
“‘Restitution’ means to compensate for—make up for—anything you have done wrong or said or damaged.”
Jake looked up at her. How could he make up for what he had done to her?
“I know that sometimes that can be hard to do, Jake, but it is important.” Mrs. Goodson smiled. “I know—I’m going to need help around the house for a while. How do you feel about coming over and helping me every day until my ankle is better?”
Jake’s face lit up. He really liked Mrs. Goodson and Jeremy. It wouldn’t be hard at all to come over and help!
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. As he and Jeremy swept the floors and helped get Mrs. Goodson’s supper for her, they became friends. As Jake left, he heard Jeremy and his grandmother talk about getting ready for church the next day. Jake decided that he wanted to hear more about their church.
When Jake arrived home, he told his parents everything that had happened—throwing snowballs, Mrs. Goodson’s fall, and his need to pray. He told them how forgiving Mrs. Goodson was, and he asked permission to spend time helping her. He also asked if he could talk to Mrs. Goodson more about her church.
Monday morning Jake woke up to fresh snow on the ground. That meant he’d need to get over to Mrs. Goodson’s house right away to shovel her walk before school. Maybe Jeremy would be there, too. He smiled. If he hurried, he’d probably have time to talk to them before he went to school. He was going to see if they’d tell his whole family about their church. He smiled again. He just knew that it would be a wonderful day!

Heresy four: There are those who believe that the doctrine of salvation for the dead offers men a second chance for salvation.

I knew a man, now deceased, not a member of the Church, who was a degenerate old reprobate who found pleasure, as he supposed, in living after the manner of the world. A cigarette dangled from his lips, alcohol stenched his breath, and profane and bawdy stories defiled his lips. His moral status left much to be desired.

His wife was a member of the Church, as faithful as she could be under the circumstances. One day she said to him, “You know the Church is true; why won’t you be baptized?” He replied, “Of course I know the Church is true, but I have no intention of changing my habits in order to join it. I prefer to live the way I do. But that doesn’t worry me in the slightest. I know that as soon as I die, you will have someone go to the temple and do the work for me and everything will come out all right in the end anyway.”

He died and she had the work done in the temple. We do not sit in judgment and deny vicarious ordinances to people. But what will it profit him?

There is no such thing as a second chance to gain salvation. This life is the time and the day of our probation. After this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed.

For those who do not have an opportunity to believe and obey the holy word in this life, the first chance to gain salvation will come in the spirit world. If those who hear the word for the first time in the realms ahead are the kind of people who would have accepted the gospel here, had the opportunity been afforded them, they will accept it there. Salvation for the dead is for those whose first chance to gain salvation is in the spirit world.

To you deacons, may I say that I recall the time when I was ordained a deacon. Our bishopric stressed the sacred responsibility which was ours to pass the sacrament. Emphasized were proper dress, a dignified bearing, and the importance of being clean inside and out. As we were taught the procedure in passing the sacrament, we were told how we should assist Louis McDonald, a particular brother in our ward who was afflicted with a palsied condition, that he might have the opportunity to partake of the sacred emblems.
How I remember being assigned to pass the sacrament to the row where Brother McDonald sat. I was fearful and hesitant as I approached this wonderful brother, and then I saw his smile and the eager expression of gratitude that showed his desire to partake. Holding the tray in my left hand, I took a small piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. The water was later served in the same way. I felt I was on holy ground. And indeed I was. The privilege to pass the sacrament to Brother McDonald made better deacons of us all.

When he was eight years old, he wanted to be baptized. His nonmember father felt that Howard should be older before he chose to join any church. Even though he knew Heavenly Father wanted him to be a member of the Church, young Howard also knew it was important to do what his father wanted him to do. He honored his father by waiting for his permission. Five months after his twelfth birthday, Howard was baptized.

When I was young, I was in the same ward as President Nelson. He was my stake president. It was a pretty big ward, so I don’t think he really knew me.
But I had a special experience with him when I became a deacon. I wanted to be very reverent when I passed the sacrament. I felt it was important. So I tried to show respect for the sacrament every Sunday.
I was walking home from church one Sunday when a car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window. It was President Nelson! He said, “I noticed that you were very reverent when you passed the sacrament. Thank you for doing that.”
He might not remember saying that. But I’ll never forget it. He took time to tell me that he thought I had done something good. It meant a lot to me.

I am reminded of two young men who came in to see me some months ago. They had been recommended by their priesthood leaders. From the moment they stepped into the office, they began in a very sincere way questioning certain doctrines and teachings and procedures of the Church. Their attitude, however, was not antagonistic, as they were sincerely looking for answers.
I asked them finally if their questions perhaps represented the symptoms of their problem and not the cause. Wasn’t their real question whether or not this church is true? Whether or not it is actually the Church of Jesus Christ? And whether or not it is led by divine revelation? The young men agreed that perhaps if they were sure of the answers to these questions, they could take care of the other questions that seemed to arise in their hearts.
I asked them if they were willing to participate in an experiment. One of them appeared to be athletically inclined, and so I turned to him and asked, “If you wanted to learn about the chemical properties of water, would you go to the local sports stadium and run four laps around the track?”
He said, “Of course not.”
I asked, “Why not?”
He said, “The two are not related.”
We then turned to John, chapter seven, and read: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17.)
If we are going to experiment with the things of Christ, then we are going to have to put these things to a spiritual test—a test that the Savior himself has outlined for all those who wish to know, a test of doing.
I asked them if they read the scriptures.
They said, “No.”
I asked them if they prayed.
They said, “Not often.”
I asked them if they kept the Word of Wisdom.
They said, “Occasionally.”
I asked them if they went to church.
They said they’d stopped.
I asked them if they would be interested in a three-month experiment. They said they would try but were not anxious to commit themselves until they found out what I had in mind.
“During the next three months will you attend all your church meetings and listen carefully to what is being said, even taking notes of the principal points being made by the teachers and how these points might apply to your lives?”
They thought for a moment and said they would.
“During the next three months will you reinstitute in your personal life prayer, night and morning, thanking God for the blessings you enjoy and asking him to help you know if the Church is true and if the things you are doing are meaningful to your lives?”
One of these young men, who considered himself an agnostic, balked at this, but then he finally agreed to do it on the basis that for the sake of the experiment he would accept the premise that there is a God and would appeal to this God for the light and knowledge which he was seeking.
I asked them if in the next three months they would refrain from drinking, smoking, and drugs. Although this created some anxiety, they resolved to do it.
I asked them if in the next three months they would resolve to keep themselves morally clean and in harmony with the principles of virtue which the Savior taught. They said they would. And then I suggested they establish a schedule, on their own, during the next three months to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover—a few pages each day, with a prayer at each reading that the Lord would bless them to know if the book is true and actually from him. They agreed.
Anticipating what might happen, I said, “Now, if you feel disposed to tell your friends about this, probably their first comment will be ‘Boy, has Brother Dunn snowed you.’ You may even feel that way a time or two during this experiment, but don’t let it keep you from doing what you have agreed to do. If you think that might be a problem, then keep it in the back of your mind, and go ahead and honestly experiment, and let this three-month experience speak for itself.” I added, “If things go properly, you’ll notice some by-products, such as a growing awareness and concern for your fellowman and greater appreciation and consideration for other people.” They accepted the challenge and left.
Of course, what was really hoped for was the experience that every member has a right to enjoy and everyone else has the right to receive, and that is the knowledge of a personal testimony. I think Brigham Young described it best when he said:
“There is no other experience known to mortal man that can be compared with the testimony or witness of the Holy Ghost. It is as powerful as a two-edged sword and burns in the breast of man like a consuming fire. It destroys fear and doubt, leaving in their stead absolute unqualified, and incontrovertible knowledge that a principle or thing is true. …
“This same testimony has sustained faithful saints to the present day and will be a lamp to their path forever. The effect of this testimony reaches above and beyond all physical or earthly things and makes relationship with God the Father a literal, pulsing fact. Every fiber of both body and spirit respond to the witness of that testimony and the soul knows and lives the truth.”
And so to those who have tasted the water at many wells only to find that the unquenching thirst of the soul drives them on in search of that which will bring peace and nourishment to the heart—to you, whoever you are, member or nonmember—will you come and drink from this well, and taste and experiment and see if you have not found the waters of life where you can drink to your soul and thirst no more but be full with the joy of the true knowledge of Jesus Christ and his teachings and the purpose of your own life?
And to this invitation I bear you my witness that I know God lives. I know he lives and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer and his Son. Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, and we have a prophet of God sitting with us, presiding today. I bear you that witness in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Illustration by John Kachik
School was out for Thanksgiving break, but I was not looking forward to it. I was struggling at school, and I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being surrounded by family members who were in the mood for holiday cheer. It seemed to me that I didn’t have a whole lot to be thankful for.
“Who is it?” my dad called from the kitchen as I came in the front door after school.
“It’s me,” I called back.
He came to give me a hug and invited me to help him make pies. I’d been hoping he would just tell me to relax, but all he said was, “I really could use your help.”
At first the task was tedious—one cup of this, two teaspoons of that. I’d never talked a lot with my father. I could ask him to help me with my homework, or he could tell me to do the dishes. But it seemed that deeper conversations just didn’t happen between us. So we went on working side by side until he asked a simple question: “How’s school going?”
I started talking about how school was really going—my frustrations, my worries, the things I liked, and the things I didn’t like. I talked and he listened. After I was done, it was his turn. He told me stories of his high school days and how he had experienced some of the same frustrations and delights. He gave me advice that I actually needed to hear.
We discovered that we didn’t have any bananas for the banana cream pie. “I guess I’ll have to run to the store,” my dad said.
“Can I come with you?” I asked. He agreed. Off we went, singing to the radio at the top of our lungs the whole way. I don’t remember ever having such a fun time on a trip to the grocery store.
The pies were all gone after a few days, but I will never forget talking with my dad while making them. It was the first time that I realized that my dad was just a person like me, the first time I saw that in addition to being my father, he could also be a friend. I learned to appreciate my whole family more and the small memories we create each day. I went back to school with a newfound motivation. For some reason, I felt like I had so much to be thankful for.

I always wished my own father would express his love for me. I never heard him say how he felt about me as I was growing up. Recently I received a letter from my father here in the mission field. It said, “Son, you have made me a very happy man serving on your mission.” At the end of the letter, he said, “Son, I love you. Keep up the good work of the Lord.”
My eyes filled with tears of joy. It was the first time he had ever said those words to me. I replied to my father’s letter and returned a gift to him. I said, “Dad, I love you too!”

Ellen Grae lives with Mrs. McGruder in the small town of Thicket so that she may go to the same school her father attended. She has a terrific imagination and tells such interesting stories that most people think she has made them up. Ellen; Grover, a friend who is one year older than Ellen; Ira, a friendly, misunderstood, silent man; and his goat, Missouri, have interesting adventures together. Ellen finds out about a strange secret. She knows that should anyone else find out about this secret, Ira would be in serious trouble. What Ellen decides to do makes good reading.

The snow was falling hard as I slowly drove up the hill. If I could just get to the top, I thought, I could make it home safely. But as I negotiated a curve, I saw a downhill car swerving out of control and coming straight at me. I had time only to scream before the impact, and then I blacked out.
I had no sense of how much time had passed when I tried to open my eyes. The snow bit at my face as it blew in through a shattered side window. I struggled to remember basic information, like where I had been going before the accident. Alone and frightened, I cried out from the throbbing pain in my shoulder and chest. I pleaded with Heavenly Father that my injuries wouldn’t be too extensive and that I would be all right.
A few moments later I felt a hand holding mine. Instinctively, I grasped it. I opened my eyes and saw a man in a black coat and hat standing outside my crushed car. He said his wife had seen the crash from their home, and he came to see if he could help. He held my hand and told me I would be OK.
I tried to ask the man if he was a Latter-day Saint, but all I could whisper was, “Can you give me a blessing?”
He said yes and then reached through the broken window and placed his hands on my head.
I don’t remember what he said. But I remember thinking that I would be all right because I had received a blessing. I felt peace and comfort.
When the ambulance arrived, I lost track of the man. A few hours later I left the hospital with a broken rib and many bumps and bruises but no serious injuries.
That morning I had prayed that I would travel in safety, and at first I thought Heavenly Father hadn’t answered my prayer. But I soon realized that He had and that He had not left me alone. My prayer was answered through a willing priesthood holder who lived just a few steps away from the site of my accident, an accident which could have left me in a much more serious condition.
I wouldn’t recognize the man’s face if I passed him on the street. I wouldn’t remember his voice if I heard him say hello. But I am grateful for this stranger who was worthy and willing to administer a priesthood blessing when I needed one.

On Monday morning I went to school, where I am one of only five Church members among 1,200 students. A group of boys approached me and invited me to be a member of their group. I was outnumbered. They had body piercings and were taller and bigger than most kids. They bullied those who didn’t join them.
I’m also bigger than most kids, and I considered joining the group because I am shy. I thought that being part of a group would make up for my shyness. I asked them, “Can I think it over first?” They said yes.
I asked my parents for their opinion. They said I should pray and read the scriptures. Before I went to sleep, I read the scriptures and For the Strength of Youth. It says, “Choose friends who share your values so you can strengthen and encourage each other in living high standards” ([2001], 12). I also prayed for help: “Are they the right friends for me?”
The next morning during class, I opened my wallet-size For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I read it again and knew what I had to answer. When they asked me, “So now will you join our group?” I said, without a doubt, “No.”
They asked me why not, and I simply said I didn’t want to get body piercings or to use my strength to hurt others. I said I wanted to be nice to everybody by following Jesus Christ. They looked at me as if to say, “You are wasting an opportunity to have popular friends.”
Today I have a group of friends who are different from that gang. My friends are good students, look clean, and behave well. Now I know that if I seek our Heavenly Father’s help, He will help me.

Daniel knows that he can be a missionary now, too, by being a good example at school. He is the only member of the Church at his school. For reading time at school, he read his Book of Mormon. Being curious, his teacher asked him about the book. He was very happy to tell her all about it. Later, at a parent-teacher conference, the teacher told his parents how impressed she was with their son and his willingness to read the scriptures at school.

Now I will give you one more. Down in Quitman, Georgia, while I was a mission president, I preached a sermon on the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. I had a chart there that listed the churches and what their beliefs were on major things, and those were official statements from the leaders of those different churches. And not one of them believed that the family unit or the marriage covenant would endure beyond the grave. I stood at the door when the meeting was over and a man came up and introduced himself as a Baptist minister, and I said, “Did I misquote you here tonight?”
He said, “No, Mr. Richards, it’s just like you say. We don’t all believe all the things our churches teach.”
I said, “You don’t believe them either. Why don’t you go back and teach your people the truth? They will take it from you; they are not ready to take it from the Mormon elders yet.”
He said, “I’ll see you again.” That’s all I could get out of him that night!
Next time I went there, about four months later, he had read of my coming in the newspaper, and there he was standing outside that little church. As we shook hands I said, “I would certainly be happy to know what you thought of my last sermon here.”
He said, “Mr. Richards, I have been thinking about it ever since, and I believe every word you said, only I would like to have heard the rest.” (We never get talked out; that’s why I’ve asked Brother Benson to tap me on the leg when my time is up!)

Reader 5: A young seaman was on his first voyage. At night, he longed to continue his family-taught habit of kneeling in prayer.
Reader 3: But he feared the ridicule such a practice might receive from his mates. Prayer was sacred to him, not to be laughed at.
Reader 5: When he felt the others were quietly settled in, the young man silently slipped to his knees beside his bunk. Shortly after he had done so, a seaman laughed out:
Reader 2: “Look at the boy praying!”
Reader 5: While at the same time flinging his shoe. The shoe hit the young man on the side of the head. The young man braced himself for further harassment, for he heard one of the tougher seamen, a man called Dicks, muttering angrily. Dicks threatened the loud, unruly, older seaman and the situation was quieted.
Reader 3: The following night, fearing more disapproval, the young man slipped into his bunk, making no effort to pray. He soon felt a large hand on his shoulder and turned to see Dicks, who muttered:
Reader 4: “Are ya a coward? You think I’m going to fight for you and be disgraced? Say your prayers like a man!”

A few years ago I had an experience with deceptive appearances where the results could have been tragic. My wife’s cousin and family were visiting us from Utah. It was a calm summer day on the Oregon coast, and we were fishing in the ocean. It was pleasant, and we were having a good time catching salmon, when for some reason I turned around to see a huge eight-foot wave bearing down upon us. I only had time to shout a warning before the wave hit us broadside. Somehow the boat stayed upright, but Gary, our cousin, was thrown overboard. We were all wearing life jackets and with some difficulty maneuvered the boat, half filled with water, to where he was floating and pulled him aboard.
We had been hit by what is called a sneaker wave. It doesn’t happen often, and there is no way to predict an occurrence. Later we found that up and down the Oregon-Washington coast, five people had drowned that day in three separate boating accidents. All were caused by the same sneaker wave, which for no apparent reason had welled up off the ocean surface. At the time we went out over the bar, the ocean was flat and calm and gave no sign of any danger. But the ocean turned out to be very deceptive and not at all what it appeared to be.
I am grateful that we had on our life jackets that summer day on the ocean. I am thankful we were able to avoid the tragedy that came to others from that sneaker wave. It is my prayer that we will continue to wear our life jackets of obedience in order to avoid the tragedy that will surely come if we are deceived and follow the enticings of the adversary.

In closing I tell you of an experience illustrative of the principle just noted, as I recall its being described to me. In 3 Nephi 26:14, meek Jesus, the Resurrected Lord of the Universe, lets children teach their parents greater things than He, Jesus, had taught their parents. This occurred through the process of revelation. It is a verse that I hope you will read.

Around a year ago, Dan and Nan Barker in Arizona, who had been blessed to adopt four children, had their three-year-old boy say, “Mommy, there’s another little girl who is supposed to come to our family.”

The mother said, in effect, “We’re already so blessed to have all of you.”

The boy continued, “She has dark hair and dark eyes. And she lives a long way from here.”

The mother asked, “How do you know this?”

To which the boy replied, “Jesus told me, upstairs.”

To which the mother said, “We don’t have any upstairs.”

The parents, being taught by the child, got in touch with an international adoption agency. Several months ago, Sister Maxwell and I were privileged to be in the sealing room of the Salt Lake Temple. There, sealed to Nan and Dan Barker, was a little girl with dark hair and dark eyes from Kazakhstan in the former Soviet Union.

Revelation is one of the great realities of gospel living, and it is so productive of joy.

The door bell rang. It was late at night. We did not expect anyone that evening, and I was wondering who it could be. I opened the door, and to my amazement, there stood the two missionaries who were teaching in the neighborhood.
The elders asked quickly if my boys were available so they could ask them a question. They were not. This was the time for them to be in bed for they were only 14 and 15 years old. The missionaries looked at each other, and the senior companion, obviously gathering his courage, asked me if I would talk to my boys and tell them to behave well at school because they were teaching one of the boys’ schoolmates. It was important that they, the missionaries, be able to tell their young investigator that my boys were members of the Church and then ask her if she had noticed any difference! What a terrible thing it might have been if my boys had not been behaving well! I promised the missionaries that I would forward the message and discuss the challenge with my boys.
The elders left, reassured, and as I closed the door, a scripture came flashing through my mind. I had used it often in the past years in meeting with the missionaries. “Go forth … that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls.” (Alma 17:11.)