Gospel Story Finder

Long ago, when I first became an LDS chaplain in the Air Force, my wife and I were stationed at a large military training center. Every Sunday evening we opened our house to all of the Latter-day Saint military students for a family home evening. We sang, played games, shared joys and disappointments, and inhaled the refreshments. But, most of all, we tried to make sure no one was ever left to feel alone. Something happened there that we’ve never forgotten.
One night my wife and I decided to have a “do-it-yourself” lesson for the students. We handed out crayons, construction paper, clay, and building blocks to everyone and asked them to create something that would reflect their feelings about family home evening and why they would continue to have it as they went on to future military assignments. Some drew pictures, some wrote poems, some made paper models, everybody did something—even John.
John was our quiet one. He always came, but he never spoke to anyone. You see, he was from a very underprivileged background, and social life was not his way. He always stood in a corner by himself and occasionally smiled. My wife and I often worried for his welfare because he seemed so alone. But that night John did more than smile; he spoke from the very depths of his soul to the depths of ours.
When everyone else had finished showing their creations and attempts to capture the spirit of family home evening, John took his turn. He stepped out of his corner and held up the sheep he had sculptured from what had been a lump of ugly clay. But the clay was no longer ugly; it gained meaning in John’s hands as he said, “This represents the lost sheep that the Savior left the ninety and nine to find. I was lonely, and you found me. I was sad, and you brought me good cheer. It was here in this family home evening with all of you that I found true friendship and love. Thank you.”
Over 60 eyes were wet with tears as he finished, because John had taught us the true meaning of Matthew 25:40: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” [Matt. 25:40]
I keep John’s sheep in a place I can always see. It reminds me that it is for people like him, people who feel they are alone, that we are to “bear one another’s burdens” (Mosiah 18:8).

When Meliton arrived in Salt Lake, he ran into a problem. He could read English but had never spoken it. He couldn’t communicate with anyone! But he decided that if he couldn’t talk to people, he would get their attention another way. Meliton put on his Spanish Army uniform and marched up and down the city streets. Just as he hoped, many people noticed him! Finally he was spotted by a member of the Church named Brother Blanchard, a university professor who spoke Spanish. Brother Blanchard helped Meliton get settled in Salt Lake and taught him the gospel. Soon Meliton was baptized.

Another lesson I learned on the football field was at the bottom of a pile of 10 other players. It was the Rocky Mountain Conference championship game, and the play called for me to run the ball up the middle to score the go-ahead touchdown. I took the handoff and plunged into the line. I knew I was close to the goal line, but I didn’t know how close. Although I was pinned at the bottom of the pile, I reached my fingers forward a couple of inches and I could feel it. The goal line was two inches away.

At that moment I was tempted to push the ball forward. I could have done it. And when the refs finally pulled the players off the pile, I would have been a hero. No one would have ever known.

I had dreamed of this moment from the time I was a boy. And it was right there within my reach. But then I remembered the words of my mother. “Joseph,” she had often said to me, “do what is right, no matter the consequence. Do what is right and things will turn out OK.”

I wanted so desperately to score that touchdown. But more than being a hero in the eyes of my friends, I wanted to be a hero in the eyes of my mother. And so I left the ball where it was—two inches from the goal line.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was a defining experience. Had I moved the ball, I could have been a champion for a moment, but the reward of temporary glory would have carried with it too steep and too lasting a price. It would have engraved upon my conscience a scar that would have stayed with me the remainder of my life. I knew I must do what is right.

In 1945 the President of the Church, George Albert Smith, called Elder Kimball into his office. “I want you to look after the Indians,” he said. “They are neglected. Take charge and watch after the Indians in all the world.”
Elder Kimball traveled thousands of miles to visit the Indians, to teach them, and to bless them. Discovering they needed and wanted more schools, he tried to help. Finding them sick or sad, he blessed them and taught them how important they were to their Father in Heaven. Finding them cold and hungry, he went to those who could help.
In 1947 the Navajo Indians on the reservation needed help desperately. Many had little to eat and nothing warm to wear. Elder Kimball spoke to the Church Welfare Committee, and truckloads of food and warm clothing were sent. Then he called a newspaper. A reporter and a photographer were sent to check the situation. When the article they wrote was printed, an Indian Aid Caravan was organized. Elder Kimball wrote to a senator in Washington, D.C., as well. He wrote to service clubs and mailed out pamphlets asking for aid.
His friends were helped, and they were grateful. One said, “Thank you. I will not freeze now.”
Traveling throughout the world to help these people he loved, Elder Kimball also spent weeks and months visiting Lehi’s children in Central and South America and in the Pacific Islands. He taught them about the Savior, Jesus Christ, and helped them with their problems. No matter how tired he was, he was never too tired to help.
“By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples,” said Jesus, “if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35).
Through his actions President Spencer W. Kimball has shown his love for his brothers and sisters. To follow him is to always be “doing the right thing.”

In the late 1970s the Mauclairs moved back to metropolitan France, first to Auch (pronounced Osh) near Toulouse. In 1978, they moved to the Versailles ward, where the Mauclair and Giraud-Carrier families became good friends, and a young Christophe met an even younger Isabelle. That childhood friendship grew into dating, courtship, engagement, and marriage. After some time in the same ward and stake, the families moved apart, but Christophe’s and Isabelle’s developing romance continued to grow as they courted by regular letters, occasional phone calls and quarterly in-person connections.

Just weeks after Christophe returned from the Canada Montreal Mission, the two, who had met as children 10 years before, became husband and wife on July 16, 1988 in Cholet, France. Three days later, at the Bern Switzerland Temple, they became a forever union. Christophe was 22 and Isabelle was 21.

However, reading scriptures can present a challenge for everyone. President Boyd K. Packer shares his first attempts as a teenager at reading the Book of Mormon. He says: “I opened it and read, ‘I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents’ (1 Nephi 1:1). … It was interesting, and I could follow it until I got over to the Isaiah chapters. … So a few months later I decided to try again to read the Book of Mormon. I read, ‘I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents,’ but every time I’d hit the barrier of those Isaiah chapters. … Finally I decided I was even going to read them.”

And of course President Packer did read them. Persistence is the key. With every reading of the scriptures, unfamiliar words will take on meaning. You can read about heroes and great acts of courage. You can learn of the tender mercies of the Lord. And above all, you can feel the love of God and know that Jesus Christ is our Savior.

Our ward had enough riding enthusiasts to get the outlaw band more or less mounted. We had purebred stallions, ancient hay burners, a Shetland pony, and one reluctant donkey. He was the only member of the cast who didn’t think it was a good idea. We first noticed this lack of enthusiasm when we had to drag him stiff-legged down the road behind my Volkswagen to load him on a truck. If you’ve got 53 horsepower on one end of the rope and one donkey power on the other, you’ve got a toss-up contest that could go either way. But we finally won.
We loaded him and the rest of the horses and outlaws and headed for the hills.
The train route winds through Provo Canyon, then hugs the hillside around Deer Creek reservoir, and cuts through the fields and pastures of Heber Valley. We set up near a grove of trees and waited.
“Here she comes!” shouted the lookout.
I hollered, “Lights! Action! Roll ’em!” (Whatever that means.)
Lights and roll ’em we didn’t get, but action we did. One blast of the engine whistle and every horse sponsored his own Kentucky Derby in his own direction. Only the donkey was left. He was too ornery to be scared. He just stood stiff-legged by the tracks and sang two-part harmony with the train as it thundered by.
The Creeper was a white puff of smoke in the distance by the time we rounded up the last of the horses, so we dubbed in the train scene later. Speaking of dubbing in, try as much as possible to shoot the scenes in order. Rehearse them while looking through the camera; then try to get it right the first take. It will save film costs and editing time later.
Our script called for a brawl scene climaxed by a pie in the face. For this scene we got the bishop’s permission, because he got the pie in the face. Blueberry cream. It was a beautiful scene and performed with excellent taste, the bishop said.
Close-ups and reaction-to-the-action shots help pace the action. And also try to frame your characters as large as practical in the shot unless it’s a deliberate long shot or scenery shot. Mount your camera on a tripod whenever possible. Even though your cameraman lives the Word of Wisdom, he’s got shaky hands.
You can get synchronized sound with some super-8 movie cameras, but this was more trouble and expense than we wanted. We used a silent screen format with printed titles to show the dialogue and credits. You can type these and photograph them with a close-up attachment on the movie camera. Here, especially, use the tripod, We recorded a rinky-tink piano background (put thumbtacks in the piano hammers to get the “tink”). We play the tape whenever we show the movie.
Showing the movie is, of course, the climax, particularly the premiere showing. We staged a variety show titled “Salute to the Silver Screen.” The whole ward was invited (and came), and the kids did songs, dances, and skits based on great movies of the past. (Unfortunately most of the great movies are in the past.) Then we honored the cast and showed the movie. “The Great Train Robbery” will never get an Oscar, but it was a “ward winning” movie.

I am not a Mormon—yet. I heard of the Church from some of my friends a few years ago. The bishop here in town encouraged me to get the New Era. I love it! Some of my friends whom I am trying to interest in the Church want me to get pamphlets for them, and they also want to read my New Eras. A Mormon friend said I should go on a mission. I don’t think my parents would like me to be a missionary right now, but even so one of my friends was baptized last month with a little of my encouragement. How do you think I’m doing?
Carolyn CookKinston, North Carolina

How do you cope? I know a woman who is noted for her smile. Her good cheer is rarely daunted. I asked her how she managed it with all the irritations she has had in life, and she told me this: As a child she had been taking an important letter to her father, who stood just behind a barbed-wire fence. In her eagerness to get there she ran toward him and tripped, and she fell against the fence, cutting her face deeply from the forehead down through the cheek. It left a permanent scar, and the scar was mistaken for a frown and grouchiness. She said, “I couldn’t have the world think I have nothing but a frown to give, so I had to smile that frown away.”

The girls both participate in research studies at Duke Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina. These studies are helping doctors find ways to help other people with their food allergies. When Hannah was five she chose to be a part of an egg allergy study. She told her mom, “I want to do this study to help others with food allergies even if it does not help me!” Ellen Joy started participating a month later in a milk allergy study.
The girls’ family has made sure that they all know how to use emergency medications for when an allergic reaction might occur. Even their younger sister, Mia, knows how!
Mia knows a lot about their allergies and is very careful to help her sisters. When Ellen Joy offers to get her little sister a drink, Mia will say, “Please don’t touch that, Ellen Joy! I have been eating cheese crackers, and cheese is on my cup.”
Their parents make sure they provide meals that are free of allergens. “For sacrament my mom brings rice cake, which I have instead of bread,” Hannah says.
Hannah and Ellen Joy trust that the Holy Ghost can guide them. Hannah said, “The Holy Ghost can help me anywhere! I have to wash my hands a lot and be careful and listen to the Holy Ghost to help me.”
When Ellen Joy was five, she wanted to eat her friend’s chicken nuggets. But she got a feeling that she shouldn’t, so she ate her own lunch. She found out later the chicken nuggets had milk in them and could have made her sick.
Ellen Joy and Hannah feel it is important to teach their friends how to be aware of allergies. Ellen Joy is currently working on a presentation to teach the girls at activity days more about food allergies. When Hannah’s friends want to hold her hands when playing, she first asks them if they have washed their hands. If they haven’t, they hurry to wash them before touching her.
When people ask Hannah and Ellen Joy for a list of things they can’t eat, the girls usually give them a list of things they can and do eat. Their list is long, healthy, and yummy!

Jared Azzarini, age 10, was devastated as he watched his coach and teammates board their flight to Goiânia for the Brazilian National Gymnastics Championship without him. He had prayed as hard as he could that the airport officials would let him on the plane so he could compete with his team. But they said he could not travel without his original birth certificate. All he had brought was a copy. The original was at home.
So while his team prepared to defend the national title that he had helped win in their age group the year before, he went home with his mother. He thought about his coach’s last words to him: “If you don’t make it to the competition, the whole team will lose. We need you.”
The next available flight was the following morning. It would get him to the competition, but just in time—without a chance to warm up or get used to the equipment.
“Mom,” he said when they arrived at home, “you taught me that when we pray earnestly, the Lord will answer our prayers. I have prayed with all my heart, and nothing happened. If I go on the flight tomorrow, I will have no chance.”
Jared’s mom reassured him that “with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). She called the airport. Within half an hour, the airline called and asked if Jared could get to the airport immediately. A seat had opened up on a flight that would leave right away.
“Heavenly Father really does answer our prayers!” Jared thought as he hurried to his room to thank Heavenly Father.
Jared, a member of the Intercap Ward, Porto Alegre Brazil Partenon Stake, made it to the competition in time to earn a third-place individual finish and help his team win their age division’s national championship again.

“Let’s go,” the voice of our group counselor rang out. My week at a college program in Idaho had barely begun, and it was already the end of the first day. We walked a short distance from our campsite with the bright blue of the sun’s disappearance just fading below the horizon. Our counselor stopped us all on the dirt road in the center of a field and told us we could go off alone to try to get in touch with the Spirit. I had already chosen my spot—behind us and down a hill, in a stand of trees.
As I slipped away from the rest of my group, I sat down in the grass and began to think. I began to hear the noises of small insects in the grass around me. I then picked up a small pink flower, noticing the details and intricacies that made it. As the sky grew darker, I looked up, noticing the perfectly clear field of millions of stars hovering above me. As I sat thinking, the scriptures about God’s creations popped into my mind. God had created worlds more numerous than the sands of the sea, and yet I looked down at the flower in my hand, at how intricately formed it was. The rest of the week I felt grateful for God’s creations and His care for even the smallest of them.

Long ago there lived a stonecutter who every morning took his mallet and chisel to hew slabs of rock from the mountainside. When he had hauled them home, he would polish the rocks and sell them. He was very good at his work, and so there was always plenty for him to do, and he was contented.
One day when he carried a finely polished block of stone to the house of a rich man, he saw all sorts of beautiful things that he had never seen before.
“Oh!” he cried. “I wish I might have a beautiful home like this one and sleep in a bed as soft as down.” Discontented, he picked up his tools and started home.
The spirit of the mountain heard the stonecutter’s wish. When he arrived home, instead of the poor little hut he had left in the morning, there stood a wonderful palace. Inside, it was as full of beautiful furniture as the rich man’s house. The stonecutter slept that night on a bed as soft as down.
When he awoke, he decided not to work anymore, and he looked out his window to see who was going by. As he watched, a fine carriage drawn by snow-white horses rolled along. There were servants running in front and behind, and a prince sat inside with a golden canopy over his head. The stonecutter was discontented again.
“Oh!” he declared. “I wish I were a prince with a carriage such as that and could ride under a golden canopy.”
No sooner had he made the wish than it came to pass! He was a prince, he had servants dressed in purple and gold, and he drove through the streets in a carriage with a golden canopy.
For a while he was happy. Then one day he noticed that the sun was wilting his grass and flowers, even though he had watered them. “The sun is mightier than I am,” he said. “I wish to be the sun.”
The spirit heard him, and the stonecutter was changed into the sun. He felt proud and mighty to be so great and bright in the sky. He burned the fields of rich and poor alike. Then one day a cloud covered his face, and he was again filled with discontent.
“The cloud is mightier than I. I would be the cloud!” he cried angrily.
So the mountain spirit changed him into a cloud, and he lay content for a while between the sun and the earth. He caught the sunbeams and would not let them go. He began pouring down rain until the rivers overflowed and the crops were spoiled. Whole towns were washed away. But he could not move the mountain.
“Is the mountain stronger than I am?” he asked the spirit. “If so, I will be the mountain.”
At once the spirit changed him into a rocky mountain. For years he proudly stood, raising his head high above the other cliffs. Neither the sun nor the rain harmed him. Then one day he heard a sharp tap-tapping, and he saw a stonecutter working with his sharp tools, cutting into the mountainside. He felt a trembling inside him.
“Who is this cutting into me? I would be that man,” he wished.
And he became a man once more, the same poor stonecutter he was before. Once again he lived in a hut and worked from morning to night. Yet he had never felt more content, for he had learned that it’s the steady tap-tapping that moves mountains.

When I was a freshman in high school, the weightlifting coach asked me to join weightlifting.
“Mmm … no thanks,” I said. “Not my thing.”
But he kept at it. For weeks.
Finally, I tried it out. He was right: I really liked weightlifting. It was definitely weird at first; my body had never done anything like it before. But I grew to love the feeling of working out. I also loved my teammates and the competitions. And I started doing really well!
Now weightlifting is a huge part of my life. I practice every day for at least two or three hours, doing back squats, clean and jerks, and snatches. (And if you don’t know what any of those things are, don’t worry—neither did I!)
Like many things, weightlifting takes time and patience, and sometimes that can be difficult. Luckily, my family is always right there encouraging me, even when I complain about how sore I am (which is often). My dad always has ice packs and pep talks ready for me when I get home from practice. And my mom always sacrifices so I can go to competitions.
A few years ago, I went to one of those competitions in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. I was excited to compete against weightlifters from all over the country, but I was a little worried about being so far away from my family. To make it easier, my mom promised to text me scriptures and thoughtful messages every day.
The night before the competition, some kids threw a party. I thought it would be cool to go, so my roommate and I went to check it out. But right away I knew it wasn’t my kind of party. There were teenagers drinking, smoking, saying bad words, and dancing inappropriately. I knew I shouldn’t be there, but I was worried what my roommate might think. Or what the other competitors might think.
But then something popped into my head:
“Stand ye in holy places.”
It was from my favorite scripture, and one my mom had sent me that morning: Doctrine and Covenants 87:8: “Wherefore, stand ye in holy places, and be not moved, until the day of the Lord come; for behold, it cometh quickly, saith the Lord. Amen.”
I don’t know why my mom sent me that scripture that day, but it’s one I’ve loved my entire life. I’ve had it memorized since I was eight, and again and again it has reminded me to have courage, be obedient, and stand for what I believe in.
“Stand ye in holy places.”
“I’m gonna go,” I said to my roommate. I explained about the scripture my mom had sent me that morning. “This is not a place I should be standing.”
My roommate told me she didn’t want to be there, either. She was uncomfortable too but hadn’t wanted to leave by herself and be seen as a loser. She thanked me for saying something, and we left.
The next morning, we found out that soon after we left, the kids who were at the party were caught and eliminated from the competition for drinking and doing drugs.
If I hadn’t been prompted to remember my mom’s verse, I might’ve been disqualified from the competition too. I ended up winning first place, so I’m really grateful I got to compete. (I think I thank my mom every single day for texting me.)
Winning a weightlifting competition is a pretty obvious and immediate blessing from keeping the commandments. But Doctrine and Covenants 87:8 doesn’t say, “Stand ye in holy places so you can win weightlifting competitions.” And John 14:15 doesn’t say, “If you want immediate blessings, keep my commandments.” It says, “If ye love me, keep my commandments.” The Lord blesses us because He loves us. And we try to be holy and obedient because we trust and love the Lord.

A young adolescent came to see me one day saying that he was having trouble communicating with his dad. In fact, he said, they never spoke but what they nearly came to blows. He went on to say that he thought his father was often behaving quite childishly. I was struck by the general level of maturity displayed by this 16-year-old. I vividly recall my reply to him, because when I finished one sentence, he looked at me and said, “I’ll do it.” His clipped response was in reply to this question: “Why don’t you become your father’s father and treat him the way you’d like him to treat you?”

• Friedrichsdorf and Frankfurt, Germany, Monday, June 10: If anxious members of the Tabernacle Choir seek a confirmation of things to come, they receive it on this first concert day here on the lawn of the Frankfurt Germany Temple in the suburb of Friedrichsdorf. A twenty-minute outdoor “concert” scheduled to begin at 12:30 P.M. has been delayed some minutes due to heavy drizzle, but with five hundred townspeople looking on, those in charge move ahead with the public greetings between Friedrichsdorf Mayor Gerd Schmidt and Elder Russell M. Nelson. Drizzle continues. Then the choir begins to sing “Alleluia,” a song whose lyrics consist of one reverent word—alleluia, meaning “praise to God,” repeated sixty-five consecutive times. Within a minute, the rain stops. In a few more minutes, wind breaks up the clouds, blue skies appear, and sunlight beams down. A Frankfurt newspaper headed their story “Alleluia Stops the Rain.” Tonight’s opening concert in Frankfurt’s palatial Alte Oper before an audience of 2,250 is a striking, four-encore success.
• Zurich, Switzerland, Thursday, June 13: Following a Tuesday night concert in Strasbourg, France, in the scintillatingly acoustic Palais des Congrés hall before an enthusiastic audience of 2,000, tonight the choir sings in the Hallenstadion—an indoor stadium where hockey games and horse shows are held, and major musical figures often perform. Though it is impossible for even 313 voices to reverberate in this vast arena with its audience of 8,400, a beautiful spirit prevails. Far-off listeners seem riveted to their seats. Tonight’s sellout crowd is particularly noteworthy because, in contrast to all the other tour concerts (booked by the London firm Specialized Travel and promoted by local promoters in each city), this concert was booked and promoted by the members of the Church, at their request.
—Friday morning, June 14: A Church member delivers bags of candies to each choir member in appreciation for last night’s concert. Choir members vote to open no candies, but to transport them to Poland and Russia and give them to children.
• Budapest, Hungary, Saturday, June 15: A major change in the nature of the tour takes place tonight in the aged Opera House before 1,400 when the choir performs its first concert in a previously Communist-controlled, Eastern Bloc state. “The Spirit was so strong tonight you could almost reach out and touch it,” says a choir member after the first of many emotionally draining and spiritually soaring evenings. In tonight’s concert, the first of three “Music and the Spoken Word” performances is videotaped as part of the concert—before proud Hungarians who know that the segment will be broadcast throughout the world.
—Sunday, June 16: Elder Nelson thrills choir members in their Sunday sacrament meeting as he tells the details of the Church’s planting gospel seeds in the Eastern Bloc countries and the Russian Republic.
• Vienna, Austria, Monday, June 17: Tonight in the Musikverein, home of Brahms and many other musical giants, the second “Music and the Spoken Word” performance is videotaped for delayed broadcast worldwide. Two thousand joyful listeners, many of them Saints, do not want the choir to stop—even after six encores! A head of ORF SAT 3, a TV station televising the concert, says that tonight’s standing ovation is a rarity in the Musikverein, where he has previously seen only two others.
• Prague, Czechoslovakia, Tuesday, June 18: Another very spiritually rich concert experience, this time in Smetana Hall before 1,300, in the second former Eastern Bloc land visited by the choir. The evening becomes a lifetime memory for choir and audience when the first encore is sung—a Czech folk song, “Tece, Voda, Tece.” The song, understood by all to be about the elusiveness of liberty and freedom, has been banned during periods of Czech history because dictatorships did not want it fomenting rebellion among the people. Since the crumbling of Communism’s powers, the song is no longer banned—yet it is with some boldness that the choir sings it tonight. Not all Soviet soldiers have departed from Czechoslovakia.
The audience’s response is awesome—except for the choir, a great hush fills the hall. Over a third of the audience stands, some holding their arms up in the air, many tearful and weeping—some seeming nearly overcome—as the audience drinks in words and music with great emotion.
After the concert, a head of Czech TV observes that he has never before seen a standing ovation in Smetana Hall.
• Dresden, Germany, Wednesday, June 19: En route, the choir detours to lunch at the Freiberg Germany Temple grounds. Speaking to choir members, temple president Henry Burkhardt says, “It didn’t take long for citizens of Freiberg to say ‘our temple.’ Many times we see couples—young people who are not members of the Church and who are preparing to marry or have married—who come to have their picture taken with the temple in the background. They know they can’t go inside. But they know something about its being a symbol of everlasting marriage and love. They feel the spirit of the grounds.”
Tonight’s concert is the first in what used to be known as East Germany (the German Democratic Republic) prior to the coming down of the Berlin Wall on 9 November 1989. In the Kulturpalast, the 2,400-person audience introduces a first for the tour—their clapping will not stop until the last choir member has walked offstage five or more minutes after the last encore. Audience and choir members wave good-bye to each other for the entire five minutes.
• Berlin, Germany, Thursday, June 20: A very weary choir, running on the Spirit, love, and memory, performs two concerts, matinee and evening, in the glittering former Communist showcase, the restored Schauspielhaus. Tonight, more than 1,500 attenders foot-stamp uproarious ovations. The evening becomes doubly memorable for attenders when Herold Gregory, administrative assistant of the choir and former [1953 to 1957] mission president over East Germany, steps up to the microphone to wish all a good night and to announce that Germany’s lower house of parliament, the Bundestag, has just voted a few minutes ago to transfer its offices, the nation’s chancellor, and his cabinet from Bonn to Berlin. The response is ear-splitting!
• Warsaw, Poland, Saturday, June 22: A repeat again of emotional and spiritual outpourings. What it must be like not to have had freedom! At 3:30 P.M. the dedication of the first LDS chapel built on Polish soil occurs in Warsaw. Much media attention is given as a result of this “religious initiative.”
• Moscow, Russia, Monday, June 24: The third “Music and the Spoken Word” performance is videotaped during this evening’s Bolshoi Theatre concert before 2,400, seated three-deep in the five circular balcony tiers of this renowned hall. For many, another rich, emotional evening occurs, the same as at all concerts in the former Eastern Bloc lands. Hope and the Spirit of the Lord seem to press everywhere!
The first encore, “Hospodi Pomilui” (meaning “Lord, have mercy on us”), a hymn during which that phrase is repeated seventy-seven times, seems this night to be as a great prayer of national penance in this land that has been seen by many as a symbol of oppression. The choir’s great, emotional pleading of the words powerfully moves the entire audience.
At the dinner of state held after the concert, the vice president of the Russian Republic announces that on May 28, less than a month ago, this largest of the fifteen republics in the Soviet Union has given official recognition to the Church throughout the entire breadth and depth of the republic, which covers three-quarters of the land mass of the Soviet Union and holds approximately 150 million people.
Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve joins the choir entourage, enlarged this day by the hundred or more Utahns joining Brother Jon M. Huntsman in the dedication of a factory in Armenia that will produce high-tech concrete to house homeless Armenians suffering from a 1988 earthquake. In appreciation for the service the Church rendered to quake victims, a plot of land in the city of Yerevan is given to the Church by officials of the Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic. Elder Russell M. Nelson and Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve and Elder Hans B. Ringger of the Seventy express gratitude for the gift. The site will be used to construct a multipurpose building containing offices, a Church meetinghouse, and residences for Church volunteer workers helping to train Armenians in home construction.
• St. Petersburg, Russia, Thursday, June 27: How is it possible for the emotional, spiritual, and musical highs to keep on going! Tonight six encores are performed to a cheering, crying audience! For the second time, an audience will not stop clapping until the last choir member has walked offstage, audience and choir members poignantly waving good-bye to each other.
“Wonderful! Wonderful! Spiritual! Spiritual! Leningrad is happy again! This is a holiday,” calls out a man in strongly Russian-accented English. The concerts are now over. But a day remains for visiting new Russian friends and tomorrow’s closing fireside of choir music and the testimonies of Russian converts. Elder Nelson tells the choir: “You have been totally successful in all we expected you to do.”

A few months after my stepfather passed away, I told my mother about my baptism. That did not go as well. Nevertheless, when I went to the Netherlands to visit Dutch family members on my mother’s side, I shared my conversion with them. That’s when I learned of another family connection to the Church.
During my visit, my uncle approached me. “I have something to give you,” he said. Then he handed me a first edition of the Book of Mormon in Dutch, published in 1890.
“It belonged to our family long ago,” he said. “I want you to have it.”
These two family connections to the Church were very comforting to me. Today, I treasure that Book of Mormon in Dutch. It reminds me of those first missionaries who visited me. It reminds me of how important teaching the Book of Mormon was to my conversion. It reminds me of my late father’s respect for the Church and that some of my ancestors had accepted the restored gospel.

A week ago I had an interesting experience. Without any official assignment, I attended a stake conference in a rural area of southeastern Utah. The stake president and his wife had invited Sister Hinckley and me to stay at their home. While he conducted his Saturday afternoon meeting, we rode about the stake, visiting a half-dozen little towns, in each of which there is a Church meetinghouse. We noted that the lawns were green and the buildings nicely kept, although they are small and some of them are old. We drove about and looked at the homes, modest in their appearance, but in almost every case there was neatness and beauty with flowers in bloom. Having a free Saturday and Sunday, I had wanted to make this trip simply to thank the people for their faith and faithfulness and to express my love to them. Most of them are farm folk who work hard for a small return. But they know a great truth. They know the law of the harvest—“Whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye also reap.” (D&C 6:33.)

They know that you do not reap wheat after sowing oats. They know that you do not get a racehorse from a scrub mare. They know that if you are to build another great generation, you must work with vision and faith. You must dream and plan, serve and sacrifice, pray and labor. After being with these wonderful people for two days, Sister Hinckley observed, “These are the kind who constitute the glue that holds the Church together.”

The home where we stayed was not pretentious, but it was comfortable and clean and delightful. The husband, I believe, did not have a large income, but he knew how to spend it wisely, first paying his tithes and offerings and setting aside some in savings. His wife is a beautiful woman, the mother of six sons and one daughter. You need not look far to know that in that home there is love and respect one for another. There is appreciation and gratitude. Through the years they have known adversity—lean times and death-threatening sickness.

I repeat—I went among these people to express my gratitude and love. I felt a great overwhelming measure of love in return. Here in this stake of small rural wards, among people who made no pretense of sophistication, I found strength and faith and virtue. I found men whose hands were gnarled and whose skin was wrinkled with the sun’s heat of many summers—men in whose hearts there was a great capacity for love—love for the land and the sky above it, love for their wives and children, love for the Church and its eternal purposes, love for God and the Savior of all mankind.

I looked into the eyes of beautiful women—women of virtue and strength and capacity, older women who knew much of struggle and disappointment and pain, young women who knew much of purpose and goodness and art and learning. I looked into the eyes of children—beautiful and innocent and wonderful.

I do not wish to imply that I could not find such in cities and towns all over the world. Such people are to be found everywhere, but somehow there seemed so much larger a percentage of them among the folks whom we visited. Their feet were planted on the solid earth. They knew the meaning of work without respect to hours or season.

I also wanted to visit among them because I have met their sons and daughters in the mission field in many lands. These have been effective missionaries because they have learned to get up in the morning and get their chores done. They have been dedicated missionaries because when they were very young they learned to pray at their mothers’ knees and heard their fathers bear testimony of the truth of this great latter-day work. Not only have these sons and daughters gone on missions, but by dint of great sacrifice they have gone away to school and won places of honor across the nation as they serve in business and the professions.

One day after class, I met with a young brother, a member of the Church who was less active. I asked him why he was no longer coming to Church; he said that because in the Church not everyone is treated equally. Asking why he thought that, he told me that while he had attended institute classes throughout the year, he never received his certificate. I asked him if that was really what weakened his faith.
As I was thinking about what I could tell him regarding his situation, the Spirit prompted me to tell him about two older, remarkable, and courageous sisters: my mother, Hélène Kapinga, (62) and Sister Charlotte Nsamba (56). I told my friend that these women had set wise goals to better learn the gospel by joining with us every year at institute class. (In 2017, it was their fourth year attending institute!)
As I taught this young brother, I compared these two women to the strong women in the Book of Mormon who taught their children to fight against the enemies of their freedom, religion, families, and country. I gave this brother a reference from the Book of Alma, an epistle sent by Helaman to inform Moroni what the two thousand young men had told him about the source of their courage to fight against the Lamanites. These young men always knew that if they trusted in God they would be sustained in all things; and they had been taught by their mothers that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. “We do not doubt our mothers knew it” (Alma 56:48). Even nowadays our mothers know the importance of the institute.
I also told this young brother that one day I asked my mother what she feels at the end of each year of institute when she does not receive a certificate: “Mom, don’t you feel bad when they don’t award you a certificate?” I told my young friend that I was surprised by her answer when she said, “My son, know that what I receive in these institute of religion classes is more important to me than the certificate.” And then she added, “Some young people come to institute just to get a certificate, but they forget what is important. I would rather lack a certificate than the knowledge of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.” I thanked my mother for her inspired words.
I explained to the young brother that—like the two thousand young warriors told Helaman I have no doubt my mother, Hélène, and Sister Charlotte both know the importance of institute.
Today, my older brother and I are both serving in the mission field. I am serving in the Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission, while my brother is serving in the Mbuji-Mayi Democratic Republic of the Congo Mission.
I testify to you that institute is an inspired program—and has changed my life. I testify to you that because of institute I had the desire to serve a full-time mission, and today I have the courage to defend the truth wherever I find myself. I am not afraid to testify of the Book of Mormon to anyone because I am well prepared; and he who is “prepared . . . shall not fear” (Doctrine and Covenants 38:30).
I know that I am well equipped with knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ acquired in institute. Today I am a missionary, authorized to preach the gospel to the world, and an official representative of Jesus Christ and of his Church because I made institute a priority in my life before going on mission.

Not long ago I learned of the passing of James Womack, the patriarch of the Shreveport Louisiana Stake. He had served long and had blessed ever so many lives. Years before, President Spencer W. Kimball shared with President Gordon B. Hinckley, Elder Bruce R. McConkie, and me an experience he had in the appointment of a patriarch for the Shreveport Louisiana Stake of the Church. President Kimball described how he interviewed, how he searched, and how he prayed that he might learn the Lord’s will concerning the selection. For some reason, none of the suggested candidates was the man for this assignment at this particular time.
The day wore on; the evening meetings began. Suddenly President Kimball turned to the stake president and asked him to identify a particular man seated perhaps two-thirds of the way back from the front of the chapel. The stake president replied that the individual was James Womack, whereupon President Kimball said: “He is the man the Lord has selected to be your stake patriarch. Please have him meet with me in the high council room following the meeting.”
Stake president Charles Cagle was startled, for James Womack did not wear the label of a typical man. He had sustained terrible injuries while in combat during World War II. He lost both hands and part of an arm, as well as most of his eyesight and part of his hearing. Nobody had wanted to let him into law school when he returned, yet he finished third in his class at Louisiana State University.
That evening as President Kimball met with Brother Womack and informed him that the Lord had designated him to be the patriarch, there was a protracted silence in the room. Then Brother Womack said: “Brother Kimball, it is my understanding that a patriarch is to place his hands on the head of the person he blesses. As you can see, I have no hands to place on the head of anyone.”
Brother Kimball, in his kind and patient manner, invited Brother Womack to stand behind the chair on which Brother Kimball was seated. He then said, “Now, Brother Womack, lean forward and see if the stumps of your arms will reach the top of my head.” To Brother Womack’s joy, they touched Brother Kimball’s head, and the exclamation came forth, “I can reach you! I can reach you!”
“Of course you can reach me,” responded Brother Kimball. “And if you can reach me, you can reach any whom you bless. I will probably be the shortest person you will ever have seated before you.”
President Kimball reported to us that when the name of James Womack was presented to the stake conference, “the hands of the members shot heavenward in an enthusiastic vote of approval.”
Remembered were the words of the Lord to the prophet Samuel at the time David was designated to be a future king of Israel: “Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”