Gospel Story Finder

Sacred experiences don’t always occur in the temple or at church. One night, I had a sacred moment in the dark, quiet living room of my college dorm.
I’d gotten home late. Everyone was either gone or asleep. I relaxed on the couch, enjoying the glow of the Christmas tree lights. In an electrifying instant, I realized that the house was all mine. In that moment, I wanted to dance.
It was an irrational desire; I was definitely not a dancer. However, this night I was alone and no one would see if I made a fool of myself.
I couldn’t sit still any longer. I had to dance. I ran up the stairs to grab a CD and flew back to the living room on tiptoe. I pressed play and listened as the first song began. Slow steps and careful twirls began my secret recital. Then I gave myself to the music and simply danced. Soon I was running, leaping, flying with my heart, and reaching for the sky.
The music soared, and so did I. If I was clumsy, I didn’t notice. I no longer cared. No one was there to judge me. I danced free in a place where the world could never judge me.
For a moment, I saw myself through God’s eyes, and it was glorious. I was completely myself. Not the self that others expected me to be. Not even the self that I was “supposed” to be. The self that God knew was in me—the truest part of my soul.
What freedom I felt then. I was of worth! I was worth something because I was myself. Me. God loved me, not my skills or my looks. I was beautiful and precious just because I was His daughter.
My dance changed. Instead of expressing the beauty of the music, I was literally dancing for the joy of the beauty of my soul. I spun in the rainbow glow of Christmas lights, knowing that God was watching over me and that He was smiling.
That night the dirty carpet of a college dorm became holy ground as I danced by the light of a Christmas tree and saw the eternal worth of my soul.

The old pickup truck sat hunched like a tired soldier in the tall yellow weeds by the side of the house as if waiting dutifully for its next order to spring into action. It had seen a lot of service in its long association with Grandpa Virgil. As he gazed out at the old vehicle from his bedroom window, Nathan Daniels was remembering Grandpa Virgil. In fact, Nathan rarely thought of his grandfather without thinking of the battered green pickup. Why, it was as much a part of Grandpa Virgil as his worn, weathered smile.

Nathan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and gazed harder out his window at the truck that sparked so many joyous memories of his grandfather, who had died in his sleep the week before. He had been eighty-seven years old.

To Nathan, the old pickup was like a part of his grandpa’s journal—filled with stories, happy times, sad times. All those times that come out of being alive.

The night before, Nathan had overheard his father talking about selling the truck to Thomas Finch up the road. Mr. Finch had long expressed an interest in it. Nathan’s father already had a big, new ’57 pickup—and a dependable family car. The money Mr. Finch offered father for Grandpa Virgil’s pickup would buy two more milk cows to add to the eight that Nathan’s family already had.

Later that morning as everyone gathered around the breakfast table, Nathan’s father asked Frank, Nathan, and Ashley what one thing they would each like to have that had belonged to Grandpa Virgil, as a remembrance of him. Frank chose Grandpa’s fishing pole. “It’s yours,” Father agreed with a kindly smile. “And all his tackle. I know how you cherished your time with him under that old willow by the fishing hole.” He turned his smile toward Nathan’s sister. “What about you, Ash?”

“Grandpa’s scriptures,” she said after a moment’s thought, “the ones he always took to church.”

Father patted the small girl’s hand and nodded. “I think Grandpa especially wanted you to have them because he knew you’d really study them like he did.” He then turned toward his firstborn. “And you, Nathan? What would you like, son?”

Nathan hesitated, knowing how much his father needed the extra milk cows. His eyes fell, and he poked at his food. Then, mustering a smile, he looked up and said, “I really can’t think of anything, Dad.”

Father and Mother exchanged glances. They knew different. “It’s Grandpa Virgil’s old pickup, isn’t it, Nathan?”

He nodded. “But the extra milk cows—you need the money you’ll get from Mr. Finch for Grandpa’s truck to buy them.”

“I made all of you kids an offer, Nathan,” Father reminded him. “You’d like to have his old pickup, and we want you to have it. Besides—” he glanced away quickly to blink back a tear— “I saw you outside, sitting in Grandpa’s truck, and I could tell that to you that old pickup is as priceless an earthly treasure as a boy or man could ever hope for.” He leaned forward and spoke with warm finality: “The old pickup is yours.”

Before Nathan could protest, Father added, “The extra cows can wait, Nathan. We have managed without them this long, haven’t we? And if this year’s harvest is good, I just might be able to buy them then—OK?”

That night Nathan sat by his bedroom window, staring out at the green pickup in the tall weeds. It was as alive in his mind as it was in the yard—as alive as Grandpa Virgil would always be, for memories were eternal, his grandfather once said, “and things eternal never die.” Nathan had been wrestling in his mind with something ever since supper. Now a look of peace and contentment washed over him. He regarded the battered machine in the soft glow of moonlight a final moment, then went to bed.

Early the next morning, he approached his father with a determined look on his face. “I have something to say, Dad.”

“Sure,” his father answered. “What is it, son?”

“It’s something I want to do. I just feel it. It’s what Grandpa would do if he were here.”

“OK,” Father said slowly, waiting to hear his son out.

“I called Mr. Finch about the pickup—I’m selling it to him.”

“You’re what?”

“I want to be like Grandpa, Dad. I want to help.”

“I told you, Nathan, you don’t have to—”

“I want to, Dad,” Nathan interrupted. “I really want to.”

Nathan went with his father for the last ride in the pickup. Mother drove the other family truck, Frank and Ashley riding with her. After they dropped off Grandpa Virgil’s pickup at Mr. Finch’s, they would head for Mr. Anderson’s farm to purchase two more milk cows. It was hot enough that Nathan could roll down the truck window and let the wind rush across his face. He seemed to hear in his mind Grandpa Virgil saying that maybe it was the same easy wind that had cooled the brows of the early handcart pioneers as they trudged across the plains.

Nathan smiled and gazed affectionately around the old truck, which was still alive with memories—the kind of memories that go on forever. Just like Grandpa Virgil.

This story happened in the USA.
Zack likes to run, jump, and play. Zack also has sensory processing disorder.
For Zack, that means he doesn’t like loud noises. And he likes to do the same things every day.
Every afternoon he plays with the same toy airplane.
Every night he reads the same bedtime story.
And every Sunday he sits in the same chair during Primary.
One day at church, all the kids practiced for the Primary program in the chapel. This was very different!
Zack doesn’t like it when things are different.
Mom had him stand in the front row so he had room to wiggle.
His friend stood next to him to help him feel better.
His teacher gave him headphones to make everything quieter. But Zack was still upset.
Then the music director and the Primary president had an idea.
Zack’s special job was just right for him! He was happy to feel Heavenly Father’s love.
Illustrations by Natalie Briscoe

A large framed picture of the Taipei Taiwan Temple hangs on an alcove wall inside Taiwanese Church member Chang Chih Hsun’s hydraulic-machine business. Symbolizing his new faith, the temple’s spires point heavenward. The picture replaces a shrine where employees once burned incense.
“Most business places in Taiwan have a shrine where employees worship a god of prosperity,” explains Brother Chang. “After I joined the Church, I hung a picture of the temple where the shrine used to be.”
His example is characteristic of the faith and courage Church members in Taiwan demonstrate as they strive to live the gospel. Brother Chang, who serves as stake mission president in the Taichung Taiwan Stake, recently offered a cash bonus to any of his employees who would give up smoking, as he did before his baptism in 1995. So far, no one has taken him up on the offer.
“Before my husband joined the Church, he did not know what love was,” says Brother Chang’s wife, Chang Wu Lan Hua, who was baptized 10 years before her husband. “Now he knows how to love me and the family.” The Changs were sealed in the Taipei Taiwan Temple in 1996.

As a new missionary in Japan, I had a hard time understanding anyone, let alone getting to know them. It was difficult to learn to love people I didn’t even know, especially when I couldn’t understand what they were saying. But I made an effort to show my love for them, and I appreciated their efforts to reach out to me.
Each week, my companion and I received a loaf of homemade bread from a sister in the ward named Sister Senba. She showed her love for the missionaries by baking homemade bread and writing small but heartfelt notes.
I was touched that someone cared about me. I felt impressed to show my gratitude to her in some small way. I wrote her a note expressing how grateful I was for her and the sacrifices she and her family made to help the missionaries. We became friends, and I began to think of her as my “mother away from home.”
Months passed. Early one Wednesday morning I received a call from my mission president, who asked me to transfer down to Okinawa. When I hung up the phone, I was filled with the most bittersweet feeling. I dreaded having to say my good-byes. Each phone call to tell members of the ward I would be leaving on the following day made my heart hurt. Saying good-bye to the people I had come to love so much was more difficult than I had imagined it would be.
As I finished these calls, I noticed that the only one who had not answered the phone was Sister Senba. I was sad I would not be able to say good-bye to a member who had become so close to my heart.
The next morning two other missionaries and I left for the airport. When we arrived at the ticket counter and tried to buy tickets, the workers told us that our cards had been declined. We did not have any money to pay for the tickets, and the flight was leaving in 10 minutes! The three of us were in a panic. We were about to miss the flight and be stranded at the airport for the day.
But all of my panic turned to comfort when I turned around and saw Sister Senba walk into the airport. I was shocked that she was there because she hadn’t known what time our flight was. As she scrambled over to us, she smiled and gave us all bread to bring onto the plane.
Truly the Lord uses small means to bring about His work.
As we explained to her that we were going to miss our flight, she became saddened. None of us knew what to do. Then Sister Senba began rummaging through her purse, looking for something that could help us. She jumped happily into the air when she found a small envelope in her purse in which, weeks ago, she had placed ¥50,000—the exact amount of money we needed. She gave us the money, and we were able to get our tickets in time. We thanked her with every ounce of gratitude our souls could muster, said good-bye, and rushed onto the plane.
After the plane took off, my fellow missionary turned to me and said, “Isn’t she amazing?! That was a miracle!”
I then realized how truly miraculous it really was. He then said, “What does your note say?” I saw he was reading a note that was with the bread Sister Senba had given him. As I realized I had one too, I pulled out the note and read a small piece of paper personally addressed to me, which immediately made my eyes swell with tears. It said, “I love you! Please don’t forget me! I will never forget you!”
At that moment I felt the Spirit more strongly than I ever have before. Sister Senba’s example taught me how important it is to follow the promptings of the Spirit—no matter how small or strange the prompting might seem. Through these promptings we have the power to change lives for the better. I know it was not a coincidence that she came to the airport. It was a miracle.
Truly the Lord uses small means to bring about His work. How blessed we are as members of this Church to have His influence in our lives. Let us all remain worthy to receive these promptings and bless the lives of the children of God.
Editors’ note: Sister Senba was promptly reimbursed by the mission.

I flipped through the pages of the Young Women lesson I was going to give the following Sunday. The General Authority quotes it included were important and applicable, but they were old.
For example, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was President of the Church when I was baptized. I valued his words, which filled the manual, but I worried that the young women wouldn’t connect to the words of leaders they didn’t know.
I prayed for guidance and felt prompted to try something new. I updated some of the stories and included quotes from the most recent general conference, quoting President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). The results were overwhelming. We had a special lesson with a lot of participation. From then on, I used the lesson manual as a guide to prepare my lessons.
Such preparation took extra work. I had to study more, I had to get to know the young women better, and I had to think about the experiences they were having. Then I would look for examples and words from living Church leaders I could use to relate to their lives. I was happy to go the extra mile for the young women because of my love for them.
My leaders eventually noticed what I was doing. I feared they might reprimand me for being rebellious, but they encouraged me to continue.

A week later, two missionaries knocked on the Cantos’s door. That evening they gave Nancy, Pedro, and their two older sons, Cesar and Fernando, the first discussion.

Before they left, the elders gave the family a Book of Mormon, after first marking for them the passages they had been discussing about Christ’s visit to America. They also felt inspired to underline the passages relating to Lehi’s dream about the tree of life—something they had never done before.

Later, as Nancy Cantos read the account of Lehi’s dream, she became excited. It was so similar to her own! She knew in her heart that this was the answer to their prayers.

Eagerly she read the passages to her husband and told him about her dream. He, too, believed this was their answer. “If we obey God’s commandments and hold to the iron rod, our baby will be healed,” he told his wife.

The Cantos could hardly wait for the next discussion.

At the University of Alabama, I had a friend who lived in the student housing across from me. He was a fine young man and a great football player. We used to have talks together. Sometimes, he would share some of his Baptist beliefs and I would share some of my Mormon ones. One day when were discussing the need to have faith demonstrated by our actions, he told me. "Mike, what do you think of sinning saints?" I confessed that I was not sure what he was talking about. He said that his minister believed that if we love the Lord even if we could not keep the commandments we would still be saved. The minister called this group sinning saints. I wondered what happened to all the words that the Savior said, such as, "If ye love me keep my commandments." Or, "Not everyone that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the Kingdom of Heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven. (Matthew 7:21.) We were never able to reconcile this together. He was a good person but he had come to believe that what we did had no impact on his being saved. However, the Lord could not be more clear. D&C 1:31 For I the Lord cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance." To my friend wherever he is, I state again - sin matters.

We know that many wards lately have staged service projects featuring cemetery cleanups, but youth in the Goldsboro North Carolina Stake added another dimension: a historical visitor from the past.

After the youth weeded, hoed, mowed, scrubbed, and cleaned, Brother Allen Holloman, dressed in a Civil War uniform, appeared beside the tombstone of his great-great-grandfather and talked about the hardships that were faced during the war.

Last year my family moved from Utah to Oklahoma. On our first Sunday at church, I didn’t know anyone, and everything seemed strange. Even the building seemed strange because we met in the public library while a chapel was being built. At first I felt scared and out of place in Primary. I wondered if I’d ever belong. Then a good thing happened. Primary started with a song I had often sung in my old Primary. I felt a happy feeling inside, and I didn’t feel strange or different anymore. I sang the familiar words louder than usual. Some things might be different, but the songs were the same. They gave me comfort and helped me feel at home. I am grateful for Primary songs.Preston C., age 11, Oklahoma

Alan Ashton, 18Bountiful, Utah
“I felt the love of Christ when I was really depressed and the Spirit just came. School was a wreck. I was getting a lot of verbal abuse from kids about being a Mormon. One night I was really depressed. I hadn’t read my scriptures, almost out of spite, for a long time, and that night I just got a warm feeling. I knew Christ loved me. It was great. From then on, I tried harder.”

Elder Marvin J. Ashton gave a modern example of this in a conference address about fifteen years ago. He quoted a young friend who lost his hand when it was crushed in a hydraulic press.
During the first night there were thoughts of “Why me? Was it something in my past? What have I done to deserve this?” Then I thought, “No more rodeo, football, or skiing,” and I wondered what type of a woman would want a one-handed husband.
Then came a fast Sunday when this young man gathered the courage to thank everyone for their prayers in his behalf. He later recalled:
After the testimony meeting, an admired friend gave me a special blessing. So many questions were answered during his blessing. He told me this accident was not punishment for anything I had done but, rather, an opportunity to help me become a better person and to amplify those particular traits which needed to be developed. He shared the thought that this challenge could make me more understanding of people, problems, and life. As I look back now, each point of his blessing and encouragement has helped in a very fulfilling way.
The young man concluded:
Today as I look back, I see the challenge of adversity as something upon which to build. [CR, October 1980, pp. 82–83]

For 50 years, I have studied culture, including gospel culture. I began with fortune cookies.
In San Francisco’s Chinatown, Gong family dinners concluded with a fortune cookie and a wise saying like “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
As a young adult, I made fortune cookies. Wearing white cotton gloves, I folded and tucked into shape the round cookies hot out of the oven.
To my surprise, I learned fortune cookies are not originally part of Chinese culture. To distinguish Chinese, American, and European fortune cookie culture, I looked for fortune cookies on multiple continents—just as one would use multiple locations to triangulate a forest fire. Chinese restaurants in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York serve fortune cookies, but not those in Beijing, London, or Sydney. Only Americans celebrate National Fortune Cookie Day. Only Chinese advertisements offer “Authentic American Fortune Cookies.”
Fortune cookies are a fun, simple example. But the same principle of comparing practices in different cultural settings can help us distinguish gospel culture. And now the Lord is opening new opportunities to learn gospel culture as Book of Mormon allegory and New Testament parable prophecies are fulfilled.
Everywhere people are moving. The United Nations reports 281 million international migrants. This is 128 million more individuals than in 1990 and more than three times 1970 estimates. Everywhere, record numbers of converts are finding The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Every Sabbath, members and friends from 195 birth countries and territories gather in 31,916 Church congregations. We speak 125 languages.
Recently, in Albania, North Macedonia, Kosovo, Switzerland, and Germany, I witnessed new members fulfilling the Book of Mormon allegory of the olive tree. In Jacob 5, the Lord of the vineyard and his servants strengthen both olive tree roots and branches by gathering and grafting together those from diverse locations. Today children of God gather as one in Jesus Christ; the Lord offers a remarkable natural means to expand our lived fulness of His restored gospel.
Preparing us for the kingdom of heaven, Jesus tells the parables of the great supper and wedding feast. In these parables, invited guests make excuses not to come. The master instructs his servants to “go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city” and “the highways and hedges” to “bring in hither” the poor, maimed, halt, and blind. Spiritually speaking, that’s each of us.
Scripture declares:
“All nations shall be invited” unto “a supper of the house of the Lord.”
“Prepare ye the way of the Lord, … that his kingdom may go forth upon the earth, that the inhabitants thereof may receive it, and be prepared for the days to come.”
Today those invited to the supper of the Lord come from every place and culture. Old and young, rich and poor, local and global, we make our Church congregations look like our communities.
As chief Apostle, Peter saw heaven open a vision of “a great sheet knit at the four corners, … wherein were all manner of … beasts.” Taught Peter: “Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons. … In every nation he that feareth [the Lord], and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.”
In the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus invites us to come to each other and to Him in His inn—His Church. He invites us to be good neighbors. The good Samaritan promises to return and recompense the care of those in His inn. Living the gospel of Jesus Christ includes making room for all in His restored Church.
The spirit of “room in the inn” includes “no one sits alone.” When you come to church, if you see someone alone, will you please say hello and sit with him or her? This may not be your custom. The person may look or speak differently than you. And of course, as a fortune cookie might say, “A journey of gospel friendship and love begins with a first hello and no one sitting alone.”
“No one sits alone” also means no one sits alone emotionally or spiritually. I went with a brokenhearted father to visit his son. Years earlier, the son was excited to become a new deacon. The occasion included his family buying him his first pair of new shoes.
But at church, the deacons laughed at him. His shoes were new, but not fashionable. Embarrassed and hurt, the young deacon said he would never go again to church. My heart is still broken for him and his family.
On the dusty roads to Jericho, each of us has been laughed at, embarrassed and hurt, perhaps scorned or abused. And with varying degrees of intent, each of us has also disregarded, not seen or heard, perhaps deliberately hurt others. It is precisely because we have been hurt and have hurt others that Jesus Christ brings us all to His inn. In His Church and through His ordinances and covenants, we come to each other and to Jesus Christ. We love and are loved, serve and are served, forgive and are forgiven. Please remember, “earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot heal”; earth burdens lighten—our Savior’s joy is real.
In 1 Nephi 19, we read: “Even the very God of Israel do [they] trample under their feet; … they set him at naught. … Wherefore they scourge him, and he suffereth it; and they smite him, and he suffereth it. Yea, they spit upon him, and he suffereth it.”
My friend Professor Terry Warner says the judging, scourging, smiting, and spitting were not occasional events that occurred only during Christ’s mortal life. How we treat each other—especially the hungry, the thirsty, those left out alone—is how we treat Him.
In His restored Church, we are all better when no one sits alone. Let us not simply accommodate or tolerate. Let us genuinely welcome, acknowledge, minister to, love. May each friend, sister, brother not be a foreigner or stranger but a child at home.
Today many feel lonely and isolated. Social media and artificial intelligence can leave us yearning for human closeness and human touch. We want to hear each other’s voices. We want authentic belonging and kindness.
There are many reasons we may feel we do not fit in at church—that, speaking figuratively, we sit alone. We may worry about our accent, clothes, family situation. Perhaps we feel inadequate, smell of smoke, yearn for moral cleanliness, have broken up with someone and feel hurt and embarrassed, are concerned about this or that Church policy. We may be single, divorced, widowed. Our children are noisy; we don’t have children. We didn’t serve a mission or came home early. The list goes on.
Mosiah 18:21 invites us to knit our hearts together in love. I invite us to worry less, judge less, be less demanding of others—and, when needed, be less hard on ourselves. We do not create Zion in a day. But each “hello,” each warm gesture, brings Zion closer. Let us trust the Lord more and choose joyfully to obey all His commandments.
Doctrinally, in the household of faith and fellowship of the Saints, no one sits alone because of covenant belonging in Jesus Christ.
Taught the Prophet Joseph Smith: “It is left for us to see, participate in and help to roll forward the Latter-day glory, ‘the dispensation of the fullness of times … ,’ when the Saints of God will be gathered in one from every nation, and kindred, and people.”
God “doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of the world; … that he may draw all men [and women] unto him. …
“… He inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; … and all are alike unto God.”
Conversion in Jesus Christ requires us to put off the natural man and worldly culture. As President Dallin H. Oaks teaches, we are to give up any tradition and cultural practice that is contrary to the commandments of God and to become Latter-day Saints. He explains, “There is a unique gospel culture, a set of values and expectations and practices common to all [the] members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Gospel culture includes chastity, weekly attendance at church, abstaining from alcohol, tobacco, tea, and coffee. It includes honesty and integrity, understanding we move forward, not upward or downward, in Church positions.
I learn from faithful members and friends in every land and culture. Scriptures studied in multiple languages and cultural perspectives deepen gospel understanding. Different expressions of Christlike attributes deepen my love and understanding of my Savior. All are blessed when we define our cultural identity, as President Russell M. Nelson taught, as a child of God, a child of the covenant, a disciple of Jesus Christ.
The peace of Jesus Christ is meant for us personally. Recently a young man earnestly asked, “Elder Gong, can I still go to heaven?” He wondered if he could ever be forgiven. I asked his name, listened carefully, invited him to talk with his bishop, gave him a big hug. He left with hope in Jesus Christ.
I mentioned the young man in another setting. Later I received an unsigned letter that began, “Elder Gong, my wife and I have raised nine kids … and served two missions.” But “I always felt I would not be allowed in the celestial kingdom … because my sins as a youth were so bad!”
The letter continued, “Elder Gong, when you told about the young man gaining hope of forgiveness, I was filled with joy, beginning to realize that maybe I [could be forgiven].” The letter concludes, “I even like myself now!”
Covenant belonging deepens as we come to each other and to the Lord in His inn. The Lord blesses us all when no one sits alone. And who knows? Maybe the person we sit next to may become our best fortune cookie friend. May we find and make place for Him and each other at the supper of the Lamb, I humbly pray in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

We so often read about the widow and her placing into treasury her mite—bitterly embarrassed as she did it, I suppose, for fear that it was such a little bit to be given. I once saw a widow come before the bishop at tithing settlement and say, “That is my full tithing: $55.00.” Her income, then, would have been $550 with which to pay her taxes, buy her food, take care of her phone and light and heat bills and make other contributions to the Church. When the fifty-five dollars for tithing was taken it left $495. With a sweet, humble attitude she said, “That’s all there was, bishop, but it is a full tithing.” We talk about poverty at the $4,500 income level, and now the $7,500 level; I am not certain that we understand. There are those who have poverty of the spirit; and there are those who are rich with the spirit, as this sweet sister whom I recollect.

It took gallons of chicken stew, plus mass quantities of bread and fresh fruit to feed the needy at a park in California, but the youth of the Bakersfield Stake were more than eager to provide it.
“This project was entirely the brainchild of the youth council,” said Marcus Asay, high council coordinator of the activity. “Helping the poor and homeless was something they really wanted to do.”
Over 100 Young Men and Young Women, plus their leaders, prepared and distributed the meal to the needy and collected clothing and canned goods for them as well.

This reality has helped impel me at different times either to repentance or to avoid sin altogether. On one occasion in connection with a home sale, there was an error in the documentation, and I found myself in a position where I was legally entitled to get more money from the buyer. My real estate agent asked if I wanted to keep the money since it was my right to do so. I thought about facing the Lord, the personification of justice, and trying to explain that I had a legal right to take advantage of the buyer and his mistake. I couldn’t see myself being very convincing, especially since I would probably be asking for mercy for myself at the same time. I knew I could not live with myself if I were so dishonorable as to keep the money. I replied to the agent that we would stick with the bargain as we all understood it originally. It is worth a great deal more to me than any sum of money to know that I have nothing to repent of in that transaction.

President N. Eldon Tanner served in the First Presidency for 18 years. He was a counselor to four Presidents of the Church, President David O. McKay, Joseph Fielding Smith, Harold B. Lee and Spencer W. Kimball.

When he was yet a boy, growing up on a farm in Canada, his father served as bishop of their ward. On one occasion, his father had to conduct a funeral in town, and asked the young Eldon to do a number of things in his absence. He became involved in other things, and totally forgot about his assignments until his father arrived home.

When his father pulled up, he looked at his son and said: "My boy, I thought I could depend on you." This was a defining, watershed moment in young Nathan Eldon Tanner's life. He then and there resolved, that he would never again disappoint someone who had trusted in him. It was a creed he lived by.[4]

1 Sarah and George Benson were excited when they learned that Sarah was to have a baby. They had just been married a few months, and this would be their first child.
2 When Sarah’s labor started on August 4, 1899, both her mother and George’s mother were there with the doctor to offer their help. Sarah was grateful for their support.
3 It wasn’t an easy delivery. The baby boy weighed more than eleven pounds! He wasn’t breathing when he was born, and the doctor didn’t think that the infant would live.
4 But the baby’s grandmothers refused to give up. They each offered a silent prayer while hurrying to get two pans of water, one warm and one cold.
5 They dipped the baby into the cold water, then into the warm water. They did this over and over, praying all the time.
6 Imagine how excited they were when the small baby gulped his first breath of air and let out a cry! Their prayers had been answered.
7 The infant was named Ezra Taft Benson, and he grew up to be a great man. When he was eighty-six years old, he became the thirteenth President of the Church.

Some years ago an assignment took me to one of the islands of the South Seas to dedicate a newly completed chapel. That evening, as I approached the building with some of the local leaders, we were surprised to notice that the building was completely dark.
As we entered the building and saw all the members sitting in the chapel, we inquired about the absence of lighting. The bishop informed us that earlier in the afternoon the building supervisor had inspected the building to make sure all was in readiness for the dedication. But now, as the time approached to begin the services, for some reason there were no lights, even though lights were aglow in nearby homes. All possibilities for correcting the problem were checked without success, and so the local leaders and I decided to proceed with the dedicatory services.
As the program proceeded, illuminated only by a kerosene lantern in front of the chapel, I felt sure that this would be the first dedication performed in darkness in the history of the Church!
I’m sure all those good brothers and sisters in the congregation joined me with a silent prayer in their hearts to ask the Lord to bless us with light so that the chapel could be dedicated.
One by one the speakers spoke—in the dark. The choir sang beautiful anthems—in the dark. As the concluding speaker, I, too, gave my talk in the dark. Then, as I asked the congregation to unite with me for the dedicatory prayer, the lights in the chapel suddenly flickered on. How grateful we were to the Lord for this special blessing! I was overcome with emotion and felt meek and humble that we had been so blessed, but the illumination of the chapel could not compare with the light of love in our hearts for this great blessing in answer to our prayers.
Yes, the Lord blessed us, even as our faith was tested and as we prayed with hope.

I believe in our people’s sense of service. I have been in the missions of the Church where we have some 49,000 missionaries. They are there at their own expense and at the expense of their families. They give to the Lord one and a half to two years of their lives. Their days are long, their weeks crowded and arduous. They speak with a persuasive conviction. They bear testimony of the living Christ and of the virtues of His marvelous work.
May I read from a letter received from one of them: “The most effective technique we have found in our work is fasting and prayer. We saw how this worked a few weeks ago with an investigator of the Church. He had a number of questions and problems to overcome, and we just didn’t seem to get anywhere when we met with him to discuss them. So we would go home to our apartment and ask the Lord to bless him and help him understand what we had explained to him. We felt it was very important that he be baptized, so we asked the Lord to bless him with a desire for baptism. Even up through the sixth lesson he was wavering, so we fasted the day before his baptism, and he has been a faithful member ever since.”
One thinks of the words of the Lord to His disciples who complained they could not perform miracles. Said He: “This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting” (Matt. 17:21).
Is it not a miracle in itself that in this day of doubt and disbelief young people, thousands of them, with lives to live and careers to build, spend a year and a half to two years in the service of the Lord, laboring constantly and even willing to fast and pray in behalf of those to whom they seek to teach a better life? I know of no experience more refreshing than to be with them and feel of their spirit. They will restore your faith in youth. They will quicken your faith in the Lord.