Gospel Story Finder

I want to thank you for the article “Why Am I Running?” in the January 1991 issue. I am a 27-year-old male who is currently serving a prison term. I am here as a direct result of “running.”
As a teenager I became too concerned about what others thought of me. I began to do things that were not socially acceptable. By the time I was an adult my free agency belonged to those I was constantly trying to impress.
I am trying to return to the gospel, but old habits die hard. Please use your agency wisely. The road back is tough, so stay on the straight and narrow path.
K. T.Clallam Bay Corrections Center, Washington

We all remember President Hunter’s experience at this podium as Cody Judy rushed him and threatened him with a bomb. President Hunter would not flinch or read the message demanded by his attacker. The students began to sing “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet.” A doctor came up and took President Hunter’s pulse following this frightening incident. His pulse read seventy, which is normal. This is another good example of a man with a purpose who was not distracted from his sacred calling regardless of danger. He resumed his speech by saying, “Life has a fair number of challenges in it.” He stopped, looked over the audience, and added, “As demonstrated.”

Recently my sister, who is on a mission, sent a letter home that had a hint of discouragement in it. As I wrote back to her, I made sure I left a large part of the last page free so that I could fill it in with words of advice and encouragement.
After all, I had been there and understood what she was feeling. Surely I could come up with something profound on the subject. For a long time I thought about what I could say and, after drawing on my vast experience, finally sat down to finish the letter.
“Hang in there,” I wrote. “I love you.”

This story happened in the USA.
Tommy sat on the front steps of his home and sighed. What a horrible day!
That morning, he had spilled his breakfast on himself. The only clean pants he found were too small. He was late for school. His teacher had him stay inside for play time because he forgot his book. Then, on his way home from school, he tripped on the sidewalk and hurt his knee. And when he went outside to play, his bike had a flat tire. Everything had gone wrong!
“I’m just going to sit right here so that nothing else bad happens,” Tommy said. But he felt worse and worse the longer he sat.
Then Tommy heard a crunching sound nearby. He looked up and saw Mr. Johnson raking leaves in his yard. Mr. Johnson lived all alone in the house next door.
Tommy did not like raking leaves at all. He watched Mr. Johnson try to gather the leaves and put them in a big bag. But he couldn’t get more than a few leaves inside. The leaves kept spilling back onto the ground.
Mr. Johnson is having a really hard time, Tommy thought. When Dad raked leaves, Tommy helped him hold the bag open. It would be really hard for just one person to do that job.
Why isn’t someone helping him? Tommy wondered.
Then Tommy realized something. He could help!
Tommy hopped up off the steps and walked over to Mr. Johnson. “I can hold that bag open for you.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” said Mr. Johnson. “My back doesn’t bend the same way it used to.”
Tommy held the bag and helped fill the next one too. Then he grabbed a rake and helped with the rest of the leaves.
While they worked together, Mr. Johnson told jokes and funny stories. Tommy laughed until his stomach hurt. Soon he began to forget about spilling his breakfast, missing play time, and hurting his knee.
When Mom called him in for dinner, Tommy realized they had raked the whole yard. And it had been fun!
“Thanks for your help,” Mr. Johnson said.
“No problem.” Tommy waved goodbye. “See you later!”
Tommy walked into his house and sat down next to Dad at the dinner table.
“How was your day?” Dad asked him.
Tommy smiled big. “It was the best day ever!”
What did Tommy do to make his day better?
Illustrations by Julia Bereciartu

My mind raced back to my early adult years, when I struggled to get through school. It was during this time that I met Sister Gerard. We were working in Washington, DC, where we spent thirty-eight years of our lives. We completed our courtship, from introduction to marriage, in seven short months and felt strong spiritual promptings to move our lives forward. When we commenced our lives together, we committed to each other to make the gospel of Jesus Christ and its attendant responsibilities our top priority. We immediately started our family, and I worked full-time while attending school at night. Six straight years in night school allowed me to complete both an undergraduate degree and a law degree. By the time we were finished, we were expecting our third child, had taught early-­morning seminary, had served in a bishopric, and, quite frankly, were exhausted.

It was during this time that we received an anonymous letter—I assume from a well-­intentioned individual—that criticized our approach to life and suggested that we were making serious mistakes by working hard, trying to complete school, having a family, and serving in the Church. The writer indicated that our priorities were all wrong. This was a particularly vulnerable time for us because we had very few resources and no real ability to relieve the pressure unless we ignored the impressions we had felt, adjusted our commitments, and gave up on our priorities. But even more troubling was the realization that someone near to us was so observant and critical. Today you may not receive an anonymous letter—that is more for my generation—but your equivalent experience may be a public social media post that, while not specifically sent just to you, makes you feel it is directed at you.

While we experienced moments of joy in our journey, the anonymous letter contributed to our anxious moments when we questioned ourselves and the decisions we had made and wondered how we were ever going to make it through—­perhaps not dissimilar to feelings you have experienced on occasion. As difficult as it was for our young family, we now look back in humble amazement, as we could never have imagined how it was all possible. While in the crucible of the moment, our path was not always clear. We were not certain that our efforts would pay off. We wondered aloud if it was all worth it. Every day seemed to be an act of faith as we tried to stay true to our commitment while wading through the murky waters of life. Now that the experience is over, we reflect on those days fondly and can see the hand of the Lord guiding us every step of the way.

About ten years ago, when I was a Mission President in the Dominican Republic, I received a call from the second newspaper in importance in that country, named Hoy (meaning Today). They wondered whether I would agree to be interviewed about the Church and our mission, and I agreed.

The newspaper sent a reporter and a photographer to our mission office. The photographer took some pictures of the office and the missionaries, and then he left. The reporter came into my office for the interview. She was young, attractive, intelligent, aggressive and hostile. Her first question was: "Mr. Stone, you are building a great big building, a temple, in downtown Santo Domingo, how many millions of dollars does it cost?

I answered: "Senorita, I really don't know." "Well, it must cost many millions", she said. "I agree with you", I said; "I just don't happen to know the amount."

And then she came to the point. "What are you doing for the poor people in this country", she said. The Dominican Republic, as many of you know, is a very poor country, and there are many people living at a subsistence level.

It is at times like that that I am grateful for the inspiration of the Spirit.

"Senorita," I said; "The people who come to our Church are taught certain things. They are taught to be truthful and honest. They are taught to be dependable and trustworthy. They are taught to be reliable and punctual. They are taught to establish goals and objectives, and work to achieve them. They are taught to work cooperatively one with another. Now, Senorita, if you had a company ... "

She interrupted me and said: "If I had a company, I'd want someone like that working in my company." I said to her: "That's what we do for the poor people in your country."

From that moment on, the interview went like a dream. She wrote a full page article that appeared in the newspaper, with not a single negative comment about the Church. They told me it was the most positive thing that had ever been written about the Church in the Dominican Republic; above the full page article, about the Church and the missionaries, the headline read: "Preaching The Truth."

Here’s one example. Afton B., a Beehive president, and her presidency thought and prayed about their class members’ needs. They felt they should help them learn more about how to share the gospel, so they looked in the “missionary work” section of the Mutual activities website (lds.org/youth/activities). The activity “mini mission” caught their attention (see lds.org/go/mini10NE). They decided to go for it: live like missionaries for a week.

After inviting the deacons to join, Afton and her presidency paired people into companionships. Afton made handouts with some guidelines: go to bed and wake up earlier, study the scriptures and Preach My Gospel, and pray morning and night.

“Normally, I just read my scriptures at night, but I started reading them in the morning also,” Bryson C. said. “It really made a big difference in my day.”

The youth were “called to serve” in their ward. The presidency assigned each companionship to teach a family and set up appointments. They also created a basic lesson plan for the “missionaries” to build on.

This kind of teaching was a new experience, but they learned a lot. “We taught a family with little kids,” said Lindsey G. “We’d prepared a lesson, but we felt prompted to do something different to help the kids learn better. I guess sometimes even missionaries have prepared something and the Lord has them do something else.”

“I learned the Lord is on my side,” William W. said. “He’s there to help me.”

The Beehive presidency took the lead, listened to the Spirit, and assisted their fellow young women and young men. The success they had is what happens when quorum and class presidencies take the lead.

Throughout his life, the Prophet Joseph Smith provided countless examples of courage. One of the most dramatic occurred as he and other brethren were chained together—imagine, chained together—and held in an unfinished cabin next to the courthouse in Richmond, Missouri. Parley P. Pratt, who was among those held captive, wrote of one particular night: “We had lain as if in sleep till the hour of midnight had passed, and our ears and hearts had been pained, while we had listened for hours to the obscene jests, the horrid oaths, the dreadful blasphemies and filthy language of our guards.”

Continued Elder Pratt:
“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but [I] had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE. … In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”

Joseph “stood erect in terrible majesty,” as described by Elder Pratt. He was chained, without a weapon, and yet he was calm and dignified. He looked down upon the quailing guards, who were shrinking into a corner or crouching at his feet. These seemingly incorrigible men begged his pardon and remained quiet.9

But Rigmor does not see her willingness to speak up as especially courageous. “I don’t really need courage,” says Sister Heistø. “I just think, ‘Oh, here is something I can do.’” One day, for example, she picked up the newspaper and read an interesting article in which Georg Fredrik Rieber-Mohn, the attorney general of Norway, lamented the state of family life and cultural values in Norway. He warned that the pursuit of materialism could destroy the country and called for the state church to teach values with authority.
Sister Heistø thought the attorney general needed to know that a church is already doing the very things he advocated and that its name is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. So she wrote a letter to him.
A week later, the attorney general himself called, asking Sister Heistø to meet with him. As a result, she spent several hours explaining the Church to Mr. Rieber-Mohn. “I think the Lord knows two things about me,” says Sister Heistø. “He knows I am not afraid of other people. Why should I be? … And,” she adds, smiling, “he knows I can talk.”

My freshman year at Brigham Young University was lonely, and as the time passed, it did not get any better. My roommate was very popular, especially with the girls, and that just made things worse. One night, I had had enough. I needed to find out if anyone cared. So I left and went to a place where I knew I could find out. I went to a little spot just above the Provo Temple. It was sunset and the lights of the temple and the city were just beginning to come on. I found myself deep in prayer. I fervently asked my Father in Heaven to let me know that he cared, that he loved me, and that I was his son. The answer I received is one that I will never forget. His Spirit touched mine and let me know that he loved me. He encircled me about in his arms of love, and touched me with his spiritual hands.

When I hear someone say they can’t serve because they don’t feel well, I remember a stake I once visited in Mexico. The stake president spoke about a lesson he learned from his wife. He said that a week before the conference, he had scheduled some home teaching visits but came home from work and didn’t feel well. He told his wife that he guessed he wouldn’t go home teaching because he was sick. Her reply to him was, “Go sick!” And he went.

First, I remember visiting an elderly widow whose health confined her to her home. With warmth, graciousness and love, she received me and appreciated that as an Aaronic Priesthood holder I was giving her a donation envelope so she could joyfully pay her fast offerings. She respected the Aaronic Priesthood I held and treated me with love and dignity. Second, the bishopric also treated me with love and dignity. They made me want to be a better person. They made me feel I needed to be worthy to participate in sacred ordinances. To this day I remember the feelings of appreciation and responsibility I felt every time I participated in blessing or passing the sacrament.

I knew a wonderful gentleman not too many years ago who helps to illustrate this universal principle of cultural myopia. I first met him in Singapore when I was assigned to be his family’s home teacher. A distinguished professor of Sanskrit and Tamil, he hailed from the south of India. His wonderful wife and two sons were members of the Church, but he had never joined nor listened much to the teachings of the gospel. He was happy with the way his wife and sons were developing and supported them fully in their undertakings and Church responsibilities.

When I offered to teach him the principles of the gospel and share our beliefs with him, he initially balked. It took me a while to figure out why: he felt that by so doing, he would become a traitor to his past, his people, and his history! To his way of thinking, he would be denying everything he was, everything his family had taught him to be, his very Indian heritage. Over the next few months, we were able to talk about these issues. I was awed (though not surprised!) by how the gospel of Jesus Christ was able to open his eyes to a different viewpoint.

So what happened to my friend? Well, he was taught the lessons and joined the Church. His family has since been sealed for time and all eternity in the Sydney Australia Temple. He has given up little—and gained the potential for everything. He discovered that he can still celebrate his history, still be proud of his ancestry, his music and dance and literature, his food, his land and its people. He has found that there is no problem incorporating the best of his local culture into the greatest of all cultures. He discovered that bringing that which is consistent with truth and righteousness from his old life into his new one serves only to enhance his fellowship with the Saints and to assist in uniting all as one in the society of heaven.

When David O. McKay became president of the Church in 1951, the vision of an institution of higher learning in La'ie, Hawaii, was still on his mind. Such an investment of Church funds in a tiny village on a tiny island in the Pacific seemed counterintuitive to some. But President McKay was adamant about the school and the place. In 1954 he selected Reuben D. Law, Dean of Education at BYU, to be the first president. It is not difficult to imagine the magnitude of this calling, to be the president of a school that did not exist yet, no students, no faculty, no curriculum, and no buildings—not even an exact location. President Law's assignment was to "turn President McKay's vision into a reality." President McKay said to Dr. Law, "You have my sincere blessings. You have my full confidence. You have the positive approach not the negative."

Seven months later, February 12, 1955 President McKay broke ground for the college and insisted that the doors open to students that very Fall. The grandeur of President McKay's dedicatory speech about what the school would become and the influence it would have in the Church and the world might have been intimidating to a lesser soul than Reuben Law.

Starting from scratch, a million details had to be addressed, each one of which could have been overwhelming. But Law did not flinch. He may have felt more apprehension if it weren't for four critical elements: (1) His absolute and fervent testimony of President McKay's calling as a prophet, seer, and revelator; (2) his direct access to President McKay on nearly all matters concerning the college, including budget, thus bypassing much of the bureaucracy and red tape of the Church; (3) his immaculate and courageous wife, Leda Law, who became a full partner in the college building enterprise. The Laws had just constructed their own new home in Provo when the call was extended to come to La'ie, but Leda "cheerfully gave away what the family had collected thirty years to become the mother of the new campus." And (4), a knowledgeable and supportive local Board of Trustees chaired by Edward L. Clissold.

Reuben Law's organizational skills were taxed to the fullest. The immediate task at hand was to get facilities ready for the September 1955 opening of the school. Here Edward Clissold was invaluable. In April 1955, Clissold purchased seven surplus barracks from Wheeler Air Force Base and had them taken to La'ie. "At one time thirty-six sections of the buildings were on the two-lane highway simultaneously."(History) They were set up just below the temple with asphalt pavement linking the buildings together.

A battalion of construction missionaries were called from the U.S. and Hawaii to build the new physical plant south of the temple. By September of 1955, twenty faculty, 153 students crowded into the temporary buildings. The faculty were green. Few had experience teaching on the college level. Only a few had any experience living overseas, but like President Law they were committed to President McKay's vision and to Hawaii. When Kenneth and Dorothea Slack had their baby shortly after arrival, they named her KananioLa'iekapuamuakakulanui, the beauty of La'ie, the first flower of the college.

President Law cultivated a sense of pioneering among the faculty. Like all pioneering efforts, there was occasional conflict and misunderstanding among the ranks. A man of strong character, Law wielded a firm hand. Under his guidance a strong curriculum was created, focusing on the Liberal Arts with some vocational courses and teacher education, as well as courses in Religion. When President David O. McKay returned in the spring of 1957 to visit to the campus, he was amazed at what he saw exclaiming, "what hath God wrought." He said to President Law, "You have the right spirit at this college, I can feel it."

We couldn’t help being a little nervous. Mrs. Hall was one of our strongest investigators. She already knew the Church was true, even though she was not a member. Other missionaries had initially contacted her, and as she had received the standard lessons and read the Book of Mormon, her inclination to believe had grown into a strong testimony. My companion and I had encouraged her continued study of the gospel.
But now her sister, Joan McArthur, was coming to visit. Mrs. Hall’s husband and all the relatives on both sides of the family were devoted to other churches, and she did not want to be baptized until her husband (who was, at least, friendly with the missionaries) would embrace the gospel with her. She was also concerned about antagonizing other family members, particularly her parents, by joining the Church before they fully understood what she was doing and why.
It was easy to imagine that Mrs. Hall’s sister was being sent to check up on her and to warn her to quit associating with Mormons. Still Joan was only 20, and it would be her first time away from home. She must have been as full of apprehension during her journey to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, as we were waiting for her to arrive.
Mrs. Hall, however, seemed unruffled. She simply invited us to dinner a few days later when Joan had had time to get settled. I think Joan was surprised when her sister greeted us at the door and ushered us into the living room. Maybe she had suspected that “missionaries” had to be middle-aged men or raving fanatics. We were happy and yet earnest; she, in turn, seemed at ease chatting with two young ladies approximately her own age. Following the meal, we showed a filmstrip. She had plenty of questions, and we promised to return.
At the next appointment, Joan came dressed almost in armor. Every argument and falsehood she had ever heard about Mormons bristled. But she didn’t fling them at us. Rather, she laid them on the table and asked for an explanation. As she described her apprehensions, we responded as best we could. Our answers seemed to satisfy her. She knew her Bible well and referred to scripture after scripture. She seemed genuinely interested in the passages we quoted, and all of us looked them up and discussed them. From that day on, I was impressed with her deep spiritual insight. At the end of the conversation we all felt a little more at ease. We explained why we were called “sisters,” talked about our homes and families, and shared the convictions that had led us to our 18-month calls of service to the Lord. She told us about the excitement of her first cross-country train trip.
The next lesson was about the Apostasy. Joan desperately fought it, finally asking us to leave and not come back. She said she didn’t want to hear any more. She was upset; we were disappointed and frustrated. She later wrote in a letter, “I remember that after you left that evening, I cried bitterly because of the words in the Joseph Smith tract that said all of the other churches were ‘an abomination in my sight.’ That really hurt because my church meant something very special to me. I had believed all my life what my parents had taught me, and a statement like that dashed my whole world. How could Joseph Smith say something like that? But he had said the Lord had said it. That was the big difficulty.
“Jessie (Mrs. Hall) didn’t force me to continue studying, but she did encourage me. I don’t think I would have continued without her. But there was too much love between us as family members for me not to.
“I was angry and felt indignant, feelings I marvel at now. I wonder how I remained teachable, but the Lord was kind to me and patient. My problem was, I thought I could believe everything the sisters were teaching me and still remain a member of my church. I clung to that idea.”
But Joan was a truth-seeker. After a week of prayer and soul-struggle, she called us back. She had changed her mind. When could we come teach her more?
I noticed as we presented the next discussion, about the restoration of the gospel, that a change came over her. She stopped resisting. She seemed to be thirsting eagerly asking questions as though the answers wouldn’t come quickly enough. She was understanding that Christ’s visit to Joseph Smith was an act of love; that the truth is on earth in its fulness not for those who want to find fault, but for those yearning to fill in missing pieces.
The same spirit prevailed at the next lesson. Topic: the plan of salvation. I knew my companion and I weren’t alone doing the teaching. Words flowed freely. Scriptures were located without trouble. Spirit communed with spirit. Overcome with excitement, Joan exclaimed, “Now, I see why Jessie wants to be baptized!”
Despite all her declaration that she would never join the Church, Joan was a different person than she had been when she first arrived to visit her sister. As we left the house, I felt inspired to turn to my companion and say, “I know that someday she will join the Church.”
We spent a few more visits with her, teaching a strong gospel lesson each time. Then I was transferred to another area in the mission. I heard no more about this sincere young lady, or about the Hall family, until after I returned home from my mission.
Then one day a letter with Canadian stamps was waiting in my mailbox. It had taken them a long time to track down my address and to write to me, the letter said, but Joan and Sister Hall wanted me to know that they had both been baptized two years before in a cold lake just outside the city!
It was the start of a string of surprise letters. Two years later one told me that Joan was on a mission in South Africa and that Sister Hall’s husband, Barry, though still not interested in studying about the Church, loved the missionaries and members as he always had and was taking the family to Sunday School. Later I received a wedding announcement from Joan. She was being married in the Salt Lake Temple to a returned missionary. Later that same year Sister Hall wrote that her husband had been baptized and loved working in the Church. The next year they brought their children with them to be sealed as a family in the Salt Lake Temple.
Since then Brother Hall has been a branch president, a member of a stake presidency, and is now a member of a stake high council. Joan’s husband, Dale J. Laub, became a bishop. Both sisters are active in their callings and have done genealogy that has allowed them to accomplish temple ordinances for several hundred ancestors.
As a young lady just out of her teens, Joan McArthur had come to Victoria determined that she would change her sister’s mind if necessary. Instead, she had the courage to change her own. Her sincerity in calling upon the Lord would not allow her to do otherwise. Her sister Jessie was wise enough to be patient while explaining the gospel, allowing the Lord’s Spirit to do the persuading.
Both of them learned to listen to their hearts, and many others will be eternally grateful that they did. Joan McArthur not only changed her opinion about the Church, she changed her life.

There is another temptation to be resisted. It is to yield to the despairing thought that it is too hard and too late to repent. I knew a man once who could have thought that and given up. When he was 12 he was ordained a deacon. Some of his friends tempted him to begin to smoke. He began to feel uncomfortable in church. He left his little town, not finishing high school, to begin a life following construction jobs across the United States. He was a heavy-equipment operator. He married. They had children. The marriage ended in a bitter divorce. He lost his children. He lost an eye in an accident. He lived alone in boardinghouses. He lost everything he owned except what he could carry in a trunk.
One night, as he prepared to move yet again, he decided to lighten the load of that trunk. Beneath the junk of years, he found a book. He never knew how it got there. It was the Book of Mormon. He read it through, and the Spirit told him it was true. He knew then that all those years ago he had walked away from the true Church of Jesus Christ and from the happiness which could have been his.
Later, he was my more-than-70-year-old district missionary companion. I asked the people we were teaching, as I testified of the power of the Savior’s Atonement, to look at him. He had been washed clean and given a new heart, and I knew they would see that in his face. I told the people that what they saw was evidence that the Atonement of Jesus Christ could wash away all the corrosive effects of sin.
That was the only time he ever rebuked me. He told me in the darkness outside the trailer where we had been teaching that I should have told the people that while God was able to give him a new heart, He had not been able to give him back his wife and his children and what he might have done for them. But he had not looked back in sorrow and regret for what might have been. He moved forward, lifted by faith, to what yet might be.
One day he told me that in a dream the night before, the sight in his blind eye was restored. He realized that the dream was a glimpse of a future day, walking among loving people in the light of a glorious resurrection. Tears of joy ran down the deeply lined face of that towering, raw-boned man. He spoke to me quietly, with a radiant smile. I don’t remember what he said he saw, but I remember that his face shone with happy anticipation as he described the view. With the Lord’s help and the miracle of that book in the bottom of a trunk, it had not for him been too late nor the way too hard.

Brethren, in many, many areas it is time we take stock of ourselves and do what the Lord wants us to do. A man said to me the other day, not long ago, “This Church just demands too much of us.”

I said, “Brother, this Church demands nothing of you. It just offers you a better way of life.” He said, “But it is awfully hard.” I said, “Let’s see if it is. Let’s go and get a cigar and have a good smoke. Let’s go and hold up a bank and see what happens. Let us go and join a group tonight as they go out on a big drunk.” He said, “President Tanner, don’t be ridiculous.” I said, “All right, I won’t if you won’t.” Then I said, “Just name one commandment that you think you shouldn’t keep, or you would advise your son not to keep.” He could not.

Regarding our tithing, surely, brethren, we should be prepared to pay one-tenth of what the Lord has given us, especially when we realize that it could be taken away from us overnight with fire or hurricane, or any other thing that might take it away from us.

When I was presiding over the Edmonton Branch a man came to me and said, “I can’t pay a full tithing this year. I have had to do some building, some remodeling, and so on.” I told him that the Lord had said that he would pour out blessings that we would hardly be able to contain. He said, “I still can’t do it.” Right after the first of the year that man spent several days in the hospital with a high doctor bill, and he paid it. I am not suggesting that he was there because he didn’t pay a full tithing, but I am suggesting that the evidence is there that he could have paid a full tithing.

How would you like the Lord to figure out his blessings on the same basis that you do when you are figuring out your tithing? If you were in deep trouble, had physical or mental illness, or your family were suffering and causing you much concern, would you want him to say, “Well now, just how much can I keep from giving him? How close can I figure this blessing?”

Brethren, let us be obedient to the commandments of God. Let us prove faithful, let us be an example to the world, a light unto the world. Appreciate the priesthood which we have and the calling that is ours. We have been given the great privilege of holding the priesthood and the responsibility of taking the gospel to the world. We can do it by our actions as well as by precept, which is much more effective. Only as we live and keep the commandments of God, being obedient in all things can we fully enjoy life here and eternal life in the world to come, and be able to influence the world for good, and help build the kingdom of God here upon the earth.

May we do this, as members of the Church of Jesus Christ, which we are, and follow the prophet of God who has been chosen and through whom the Lord speaks, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Recently I had the privilege of performing the temple sealing ordinances for a wonderful family. It was a beautiful occasion, as such ceremonies almost always are. But if you had known the father of this family several years earlier, you would have understood what a miracle was taking place in the house of the Lord that day. With his permission I quote from a letter he wrote to me:
“I was born into the Church and was taught the gospel at my mother’s knee. Through her diligence and perseverance, she kindled a small ember of testimony that never left me even through some of the roughest times of my life. In my teen years Satan hit me hard. It was during the late 1960s and early 1970s, a time of great turmoil, and Satan was hard at work on me. I was taken with the practice of free drugs, free love, free fun, and the rest of the world be damned. Beginning with my first drink of alcohol, I began to slowly deteriorate. After alcohol, other drugs were that much easier to use. In order to take drugs, you must become a good liar. You learn to do whatever it takes to conceal your behavior from others.
“After many years of living this way, all my moral fiber seemed to be completely eroded away. I had a minimal amount of conscience and had sunk to the depths of despair and depression. I watched friends die from drugs and suicide. As time passed, my friends and I were exposed to the criminal justice system. In fact, many of my former friends are still in prison. Had it not been for the small flicker of testimony instilled in me by my mother when I was a child, to know that Heavenly Father could still love me, I have reservations as to whether I would even be writing this letter today.”
Some parents might have given up hope on this prodigal son, but not this man’s mother. She continued to believe that he would find his way back to the teachings of his childhood and once again place his trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. With the loving support of his family and friends, that is exactly what he did. Let me read again from his letter:
“If there is one thing I have learned, it is that no matter how lost you feel, no matter how low you may have sunk, there can be forgiveness and peace. I learned that the further one drifts from the Lord, the harder it is to return to Him and His teachings. But once I opened my heart and called out in prayer to Heavenly Father to help me in the name of His Son, Jesus Christ, I came to know the power of repentance and the blessings of obedience to God’s commandments.”
Brothers and sisters, I wish all of you could have been with us in the temple that day to feel the joy of hope fulfilled. I am sure you would have sensed, as I did, the rekindled love for God and the sublime happiness that filled the heart of my friend’s mother as her four sons, their companions, and other family members surrounded her in the sealing room.

Several years after I was married, I was called to teach a Sunday School class of 15-year-olds. It was a large class of enthusiastic and energetic students. I had to prepare well each week in order to stay ahead of them.
One Sunday after class a young man waited for the room to clear and then asked if we could talk privately for a moment. He poured out his heart to me about a moral transgression that he was involved in. He cried, and I could see that his heart was filled with great remorse.
I encouraged him to go see the bishop, and eventually I went with him to his appointment and waited outside. Of course, I was not privy to what happened from there, but almost immediately I saw the dark veil of sorrow, grief, evil, and contempt lift from this young man’s face. In time he was back to being the normal and fine young man that I had known him to be for some years previous. Repentance cleansed his soul and it cleansed his heart, mind, and even his face. His eyes were brighter, his smile broader, and his walk and the way he carried himself suggested happiness.

The story is told of a ship that was in distress during a severe storm off the coast of Holland:
“A rowboat went out to rescue the crew of the fishing boat. The waves were enormous, and each of the men at the oars had to give all his strength and energy to reach the unfortunate sailors in the grim darkness of the night and the heavy rainstorm.
“The trip to the wrecked ship was successful, but the rowboat was too small to take the whole crew in one rescue operation. One man had to stay behind on board because there simply was no room for him; the risk that the rescue boat would capsize was too great. When the rescuers made it back to the beach, hundreds of people were waiting for them with torches to guide them in the dreary night. But the same crew could not make the second trip because they were exhausted from their fight with the stormwinds, the waves, and the sweeping rains.
“So the local captain of the coast guard asked for volunteers to make a second trip. Among those who stepped forward without hesitation was a nineteen-year-old youth by the name of Hans. With his mother he had come to the beach in his oilskin clothes to watch the rescue operation.
“When Hans stepped forward his mother panicked and said, ‘Hans, please don’t go. Your father died at sea when you were four years old and your older brother Pete has been reported missing at sea for more than three months now. You are the only son left to me!’
“But Hans said, ‘Mom, I feel I have to do it. It is my duty.’ And the mother wept and restlessly started pacing the beach when Hans boarded the rowing boat, took the oars, and disappeared into the night.
“After a struggle with the high-going seas that lasted for more than an hour (and to Hans’s mother it seemed an eternity), the rowboat came into sight again. When the rescuers had approached the beach close enough so that the captain of the coast guard could reach them by shouting, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called vigorously against the storm, ‘Did you save him?’
“And then the people lighting the sea with their torches saw Hans rise from his rowing bench, and he shouted with all his might, ‘Yes! And tell Mother it is my brother Pete!’”