Gospel Story Finder

When our children were young, we lived in the country of Kazakhstan. There were no missionaries there at that time. When friends or neighbors wanted to hear about the gospel, we got to be the missionaries!
Our daughter Marné shared the gospel with her friend Alyona. Alyona decided to be baptized with permission from her mother, who was later baptized with Alyona’s younger sister. Recently Alyona married a righteous young man in the Manhattan New York Temple, and Marné got to be there! She was so happy that she had helped her friend learn about Jesus Christ.

The river eddied fast and smooth around the raft and was a muddy gray color. The air was cool and smelled of snow. It was early spring, May 20. In Canada that’s a holiday celebrating Queen Victoria’s birthday, and for the LDS Branch in Banff, Alberta Province, it’s time for the annual trip down the Kootenay River.
Erwin Oertli is a member of the Banff Branch. He is also a professional river guide who has a government concession to run raft trips in Canada, and on the same weekend each spring he invites the entire Banff Branch, all interested families, on a three-day raft trip down the Kootenay River. He also invites several nonmember friends.
“It’s the best way I know of to introduce them to the Church,” he explained.
The trip began early Saturday morning. The rafts were unloaded on the river bank, inflated, and lifted into the water. Under Brother Oertli’s direction, metal platforms were placed in the rafts and lashed to the sides. Each family loaded and secured its food, supplies, and equipment onto the platforms. Brother Oertli gave final instructions on safety, the river, and handling the rafts. The river runners then buckled on life jackets, and at last the first raft was launched.
The first section of the river was fast and smooth. This gave the oarsmen a chance to get the feel of their rafts. The river reflected gray and liquid silver in the bright sun.
At noon the rafts were beached and Brother Oertli led the group up an old mining road to a ridge that overlooks the river. Below them the Kootenay snaked its way through the high Rocky Mountains of British Columbia. The tops of the mountains were still iced with snow. The long, ivory fingers of glaciers twisted down the slopes of the higher peaks.
After lunch the rafts were launched again. The river dropped faster now, turning sharply around the high slopes that walled it in. These rough-cut river canyons are bordered with stands of columnlike lodge pole pines. There were several sections of rough, white water, but by evening, with the exception of the girl who fell in, the rafts made it to the campsite with little trouble.
Equipment was unloaded and the rafts were pulled onto the shore and tipped over, allowing the water to drain out. In the blue-gray light of evening, tents were set up near a line of jagged pines that shouldered the beach. Fires were built, and the sounds of laughter and voices mixed with the savory aroma of burning pine and of frying steaks and potatoes.
The following morning a testimony meeting, held in the pines, was directed by Harlen Cahoon, a counselor in the Banff Branch presidency. In the meeting nearly everyone from the branch stood and expressed the strong feeling of closeness they felt for each other and for their Father in Heaven.
Brother Cahoon later explained that the testimony meeting on the trip was something everyone looked forward to every year.
“It’s the highlight of the trip,” he said.
After the meeting some of the families spent the afternoon hiking to a ridge that overlooked the river, while others sat by the river or in the shadows of pines, enjoying a steady flow of conversation. Fires were built with wood gathered the night before, and dutch ovens filled with chicken were buried in hot coals for dinner.
Toward evening, high-piled clouds drifted across the sky and the mountain peaks were fogged with gray-white wisps. Rain fell lightly, cooling the earth and scenting the air with the pleasant smells of wet leaves, pine, and aspen. The sky partially cleared as night came.
A cream-white moon, full and large, rose above the river, flooding it with shimmering, silver light that danced on the waves. A large bonfire was built on the beach. The group gathered around its warmth, watching fiery sparks sail up with the moon and the stars. Their soft singing filled the night air.
The next day, late in the afternoon, it was over. Under a fierce barrage of water fighting, the rafts glided into shore where the river intersected a road. The rafts were pulled onto the bank, deflated, and rolled up. Equipment was loaded into waiting cars and trucks, a prayer of thanks was said, and everyone drove for home feeling warm from the sun and from the closeness they felt for each other. Looking forward to the next trip, they left the Kootenay.

I think of my neighbor whose wife was afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease. Every Sunday he would help her dress for Church meetings, comb her hair, apply her makeup, even put on her earrings. In rendering this service, he was an example to every man and woman in our ward—in fact, for the world. One day his wife said to him, “I just want to see my husband again and be with him.”

He answered, “I am your husband.”

And she sweetly replied, “Oh, good!”

“Did you really make a pro-and-con list?” The question my teenage son asked in an amazed tone referred to a list he found in one of my journals. It wasn’t just any old pro-and-con list; it was the list I had made 30 years ago, before I proposed to his mother. I don’t know how many men make a list like mine, but when I pondered the idea of marriage as a 24-year-old college student, it just seemed the right thing to do.
I don’t remember any other questions that day from my son about our courtship; he was too fixated on the list. I can still see him in my mind’s eye, yelling to his siblings, “Dad made a list about Mom! Come see it!” However, as I look back, I can think of many questions he could have asked.
Didn’t you love her? This question should have been his first. My answer would have been yes; that is why I made the list. I really did love her, and I desired more than anything for her to be happy. The list was more about seeing if I could make her happy than it was about whether or not I loved her.
Didn’t you have fun together? Again, my answer would have been yes; that is why I made the list. It was a way to see if my hope that she would always have fun with me could become reality.
Didn’t you think she was the right one? Perhaps this is the most intriguing question of all. I would have answered yes; I did believe she was “the one,” but I wanted to make sure my belief would inspire action on my part to make things work.
I don’t think I fully realized at the time the impact my mission president’s teachings on faith and its components of desire, belief, and hope were having on my courtship. With a clearer view from the passage of time, I am very grateful to President F. Ray Hawkins for his influence on me. I still have the notes I took as a 20-year-old missionary as my young mission president opened the scriptures and explained the elements of faith that would later figure into making the most important decision of my life.
Having the desire particle of faith, I needed belief and hope to complete my faith, and I needed to take action by asking Rosalie to marry me. The list—my manifestation of desire, belief, and hope—was important in giving me the courage to take the action necessary to complete my faith. James taught that faith without works is dead (see James 2:17). No amount of desire, belief, or hope would have helped me find the greater happiness and peace I have found in marriage if those particles hadn’t led me to ask the big question. (Sadly, the first time I proposed, Rosalie’s answer was no, but that is a story for another time. In such circumstances—when things don’t go according to our plan or timing—faith still plays an integral role in our lives.) It took some perseverance and patience for both of us, and we did later marry on a snowy day in December 1982.

A few years ago while I was presiding over the mission in Minneapolis, Minnesota, an interesting event took place. I would like to use that experience to bear my testimony. A rather severe tornado hit the area. It was severe enough that it came to the attention of the nightly news broadcast over the national networks to California, Arizona, Utah, and Idaho. Before long, the telephone started ringing in our office there at the mission home. This went on for two or three hours, with parents calling from many areas wondering about their Johnny or Richard.
I recall later walking across the parking lot from the mission office to the mission home saying to myself, “You know these Mormon mothers. They just won’t undo the apron strings. They just won’t let their boys go.” As I walked into the mission home, the phone again was ringing. I picked up the phone and guess who? My mother! She was wondering how her missionary was doing under these circumstances.
I learned a great and deep lesson. A mother’s love and concern never ceases—nor should it.

There is an old Jewish tale about a soap maker who did not believe in God. One day as he was walking with a rabbi, he said, “There is something I cannot understand. We have had religion for thousands of years. But everywhere you look there is evil, corruption, dishonesty, injustice, pain, hunger, and violence. It appears that religion has not improved the world at all. So I ask you, what good is it?”
The rabbi did not answer for a time but continued walking with the soap maker. Eventually they approached a playground where children, covered in dust, were playing in the dirt.
“There is something I don’t understand,” the rabbi said. “Look at those children. We have had soap for thousands of years, and yet those children are filthy. What good is soap?”
The soap maker replied, “But rabbi, it isn’t fair to blame soap for these dirty children. Soap has to be used before it can accomplish its purpose.”
The rabbi smiled and said, “Exactly.”

Following an impression once saved my life. It was dark, I was alone, and I was high in the mountains several miles from the nearest road. Though I had never been on this particular mountainside, I was not lost. I knew the general location, and I knew that all I had to do was keep walking down and eventually this would lead me to a familiar road. The problem was the pitch darkness of the moonless night.
I chose a gully and started to feel my way down through the brush and deadfall. It was slow going, so I was relieved when the gully flattened out to a sandy bottom beneath my feet. I picked up my pace for about 10 steps and suddenly had a strong impression to stop. I did. Reaching down, I took a rock and tossed it out into the darkness ahead of me. I heard no sound for a few seconds, and then there was a clatter on the rocks a long distance away. I knew immediately that I was standing on the lip of a sheer drop-off.
I retraced my steps and eventually got down the mountain by another gully. I phoned my worried family close to midnight, just before they called for a search party. The next day I revisited that spot in daylight and saw my tracks, which stopped just two or three feet from a drop-off of at least 50 feet. I was glad I had heard and heeded a warning. Where did that lead? It saved my life.

In many areas, the offerings are collected each month by the boys who are deacons as they visit each member’s home generally quite early on the Sabbath day. I recall that the boys in the congregation over which I presided had assembled one morning, sleepy-eyed, a bit disheveled, and mildly complaining about arising so early to fulfill their assignment. Not a word of reproof was spoken, but during the following week, we escorted the boys to Welfare Square for a guided tour. They saw firsthand a lame person operating the telephone switchboard, an older man stocking shelves, women arranging clothing to be distributed—even a blind person placing labels on cans. Here were individuals earning their sustenance through their contributed labors. A penetrating silence came over the boys as they witnessed how their efforts each month helped to collect the sacred fast offering funds which aided the needy and provided employment for those who otherwise would be idle.

From that hallowed day forward, there was no urging required by our deacons. On fast Sunday mornings they were present at 7:00, dressed in their Sunday best, anxious to do their duty as holders of the Aaronic Priesthood. No longer were they simply distributing and collecting envelopes. They were helping to provide food for the hungry and shelter for the homeless—all after the way of the Lord. Their smiles were more frequent, their pace more eager, their very souls more subdued. Perhaps now they were marching to the beat of a different drummer; perhaps now they better understood the classic passage, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.)

When I was a mission president, I learned that the best missionaries were often those who had to make big sacrifices to serve a mission. I knew one young missionary who earned the money for his mission by delivering newspapers. While he was serving his mission, his younger brothers sacrificed for him too. Without telling him, they kept doing his job and saved all the money they earned. When he returned home, they gave him the money so he could attend the university. He is now about to graduate.

Ron calls his mission a “fantastic” experience. “The Lord blessed me with many miraculous, faith-promoting experiences,” he says. “My mission was huge for my spiritual life.”
Ron spent part of his mission in the Bermuda islands. His mission president, Harold Nephi Wilkinson, sent only “straight-arrow missionaries” there because he could visit them only occasionally.
“We were totally on our own, but the president didn’t have to worry about us,” Ron recalls. “We got the job done.”
After completing his mission in 1972, Ron found a job, enrolled at the University of Utah that fall, and joined Delta Phi Kappa, a fraternity for returned missionaries. At the fraternity’s social activities, he couldn’t help but notice an attractive young woman named Melanie Twitchell. Melanie was one of Delta Phi’s elected “dream girls,” who helped with the fraternity’s service activities.
Like Ron, Melanie came from an active Latter-day Saint family. Her father, a career military officer, and her mother never let the family’s frequent moves become an excuse for missing church.
Melanie was impressed by Ron’s kindness, courtesy, and gospel knowledge. “I said to myself, ‘He is such an amazing man that it doesn’t matter if I never get to date him. I just want to be his best friend.’”
As their relationship grew, the Spirit confirmed her impressions of Ron and of his commitment to the Lord. Soon their friendship blossomed into what Melanie calls a “storybook, fairytale romance.”
Elder Rasband says she was a perfect match. “Melanie was every bit my equal in gospel devotion and heritage. We became best friends, and that’s when I asked her to marry me.”
They married on September 4, 1973, in the Salt Lake Temple. Since then, he says, his “selfless eternal companion … has helped mold me like potter’s clay into a more polished disciple of Jesus Christ. Her love and support, and that of our 5 children, their spouses, and our 24 grandchildren, sustain me.”3

March 23, 2024 was one of the busiest days of the Open House with more than 11,000 visitors. The guests were waiting in line under the unforgiving sun.
“But their patience and understanding were commendable,” volunteer Dino Santos noted. “You could see their excitement.”
He continued, “Many prayed for the clouds to cover the sun, and voila! The sun was indeed covered! It was a miracle, a prayer instantly answered!”

The following is a true story. For my eighth birthday I wanted to have a party. My parents agreed, and so a week before my birthday, I took the invitations to school.
On the school bus, I kept thinking about Alice.* I was hoping that she wouldn’t be there that day. Then my parents couldn’t blame me for not inviting her. You see, Alice’s clothes were old and worn, her hair was seldom combed, and she was very quiet. She always played by herself at recess, and as far as I could see, she had no friends. In other words, I didn’t see why I needed to invite her to my party.
When I got to school, much to my dismay, Alice was there. I handed out the invitations, and everyone was very excited.
The morning of my birthday party, my parents asked, “Will Alice be coming?” I was surprised! I didn’t think that they even knew Alice.
“I don’t know if she’s coming,” I answered. My father suggested that we take a ride over to her house to see. My father is a very kind man, but he is also very firm. If he suggests that we do something, we do it.
Alice’s mother answered the door, and my father told her why we were there. “She won’t be coming,” Alice’s mother said. “She doesn’t have a present for your daughter. You see, my husband lost his job and …”
My father gestured that he understood, then said, “We would still like Alice to come. It doesn’t matter if she has a present or not.”
No present? I thought. What kind of a birthday party is that? But, of course, I just stood there and smiled.
When we were in the car again, my father told me that after he took me home he was coming back to take Alice to the store to buy a present for her to give to me.
This isn’t turning out so bad after all! I thought.
I can’t remember what presents I got that day, but I do remember that Alice seemed to laugh a lot and was actually quite fun to be with. When it was time to take her home, I got in the front seat and she got in the backseat. I turned around to tell her something, and next to her was the prettiest doll I had ever seen. In my eight-year-old mind, I knew that my father had bought that doll for Alice. I felt like my heart grew two sizes that day.
My father is not a rocket scientist. He has never invented anything or found a cure for a disease. But that day he did something just as important—he showed charity to a little girl. And to another little girl, he showed what it means to be Christlike.

Josh fidgeted on the bench. Sacrament meeting had already lasted an hour, and he was tired of sitting. He was tired of being quiet too. His feet didn’t quite reach the floor, and that made his legs hurt.
When he tried to ask his mother what the speaker’s talk was about, she said, “Shh.”
Josh looked around him at his friends. Tammy was coloring a picture of Captain Moroni. Jody was making a Noah’s Ark out of a piece of paper. Josh wanted to do that, too, but his father told him that it made too much noise. “Try thinking about Jesus,” his father whispered to him. “Remember, Jesus wants us to be reverent in church.”
“I’m trying,” Josh whispered back.
Josh couldn’t wait until Primary. Sister Cheshire always had such good stories in his CTR-A class that he could sit for almost twenty minutes without wiggling.
As soon as Sunday School singing practice was over, he jumped up from the bench and started to run to the Primary room. He stopped when he saw the Primary president. She smiled at him. Josh walked the rest of the way to class, but he walked very fast.
Today Sister Cheshire told the class that she needed their help. “I want each of you to name a way you can show Jesus that you love Him.”
“Going to Primary,” Jody volunteered.
“Picking up my papers after sacrament meeting,” Tammy said.
Sister Cheshire smiled. “Those are both good ways. What about you, Josh? Can you think of a way of showing your love for Jesus?”
Josh thought hard. “Being reverent,” he said.
“That’s a very important way,” his teacher agreed. “How can we be reverent?”
“That’s easy,” Tammy said. “We just have to be quiet.”
“What do you think, Josh?” Sister Cheshire asked.
Josh looked at his teacher. “We can be quiet anytime,” he said, frowning thoughtfully.
“That’s right,” his teacher said. “Being reverent means more than just being quiet.”
“My father said I should try thinking about Jesus during sacrament meeting. I tried, but I kept thinking about other things.”
Sister Cheshire held up a picture of Jesus in a white robe. His face was kind and gentle. “When we partake of the sacrament, we promise that we will always remember Jesus. Now, what does the bread represent?”
“His body,” Jody said before anyone else could answer.
“The water’s supposed to stand for His blood,” Tammy added.
Sister Cheshire smiled. “You’re both right. The water is a symbol of Christ’s blood, just as the bread is a symbol of His body.” She looked at Josh. “What do you think about when you see a picture of Jesus?”
“I think about how much He must have loved us,” Josh said slowly.
He looked at Sister Cheshire. She was crying.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, feeling like he might start crying too.
“It’s all right, Josh. I’m crying because you’re right—Jesus does love us very much—so much that He was willing to die for us.” She handed a small copy of the picture to each child. “When you come to church next week, I want each of you to bring this picture with you. It will help you remember Jesus when the sacrament is being passed.”
Josh stared at his picture. Jesus looked as if He was smiling right at him. Slipping it inside his Bible, he said, “Thank you, Sister Cheshire.”
“Thank you, Josh, for helping us better understand how we can be reverent. Will you say our closing prayer now, please?”
Josh started the prayer the way he always did. Then, after thanking Heavenly Father for Primary and his teacher and the beautiful day, he remembered the picture and said, “Heavenly Father, please help us to remember Jesus and show Him that we love Him by being reverent.”
He felt good a few minutes later as he walked down the hall, telling his mother and father about the lesson and showing them his picture of the Savior.

I remember the time when I was a young teenager living in Frankfurt, Germany, and praying for a miracle for our family. My dad was terribly ill and about to die. How much I hoped that something would happen to turn our life into a happier path. Despite my heartfelt prayers, he died—way too young we felt. Now we were a one-parent family, a widowed mother with two daughters, 12 and 9 years old. The situation looked bleak and hopeless for us. Even our Lutheran religion was of no great help.

But then one day, a miracle happened, and all things changed to the positive, almost overnight. Two young missionaries rang the doorbell at our apartment. Reluctantly, we let them in. They brought us the Book of Mormon. They taught us the plan of salvation and what it could mean for our lives. They helped us to develop a love for the holy temple, despite the fact that there was actually no temple in Europe at that time. A few years after our baptism, we were sealed in the first temple outside the U.S., the Swiss temple, for time and all eternity. We became an eternal family, including my father, even across the gate of death. All this came about because two young people wanted to serve a mission, serve God and His children. This modern-day miracle happened because these young people loved God and His children and were willing to sacrifice some of their conveniences for this great cause.

Both Katya’s and Ivana’s families joined the Church shortly after the Kyiv Ukraine Mission was organized in 1992. But both families drifted into inactivity before either girl was old enough to be baptized.
Ivana’s family moved when she was 13 to a home near a Latter-day Saint chapel. As she and her mother walked past it, her mother remembered the goodness the Church had brought into her life. She encouraged Ivana to go to church. “My mother knew that in the Church they would teach me only good things in comparison to the world,” Ivana says. She began attending church and activities and meeting with the missionaries, and when the missionaries asked her if she would be baptized, she agreed.
At age 15 Katya was returning from a trip with a community youth group. She was surprised when her father told her that he had invited the missionaries to teach her. He made it clear that while she was welcome to listen, he was not interested.
Katya set a time to meet with the missionaries. “As I listened, I felt that this is the right way to go. I remembered those feelings I’d had going to church as a child. And after a while, I decided to be baptized,” she says.
Both young women had to make adjustments to become members of the Church, and Personal Progress helped them make the transition. “I was still growing. I had my own habits. Even my manner of dress needed to change,” Katya recalls. “Personal Progress little by little helped me change. It gave me power to be a daughter of God, not just in church but every day.”
Through Personal Progress, Ivana and Katya were able to establish habits that would spiritually strengthen them, such as prayer, scripture study, and watching appropriate media. They also learned how to teach lessons and serve others. Overall, it helped them draw closer to God and become better examples to their families.
“Personal Progress helped me. Every completed assignment gave me growth; it added knowledge and courage,” Ivana says. “It was especially good for me because most members of my family aren’t active members of the Church.”
The changes Ivana made through Personal Progress helped her be an example to her family. “All this time my parents have seen how I’ve changed. They were very happy that I was going to church,” Ivana says. She attended church and activities alone until one day her mother decided to come with her to sacrament meeting. Now they attend church together.
Katya’s example also touched the lives of her family. Shortly after Katya joined the Church, her mother started to come with her and then her father. The families of both of these young women noticed the difference Personal Progress and Church activity made in Katya’s and Ivana’s lives. They saw how happy they had become and wanted to take part in that joy.
The joy of Katya and her family continued to grow. As Katya participated in Personal Progress, she noticed that it focused on the importance of the temple. “There is a whole section dedicated to going to the temple, and I really wanted to get to the temple, but my parents weren’t ready,” she remembers.
Katya was able, however, to attend the temple with her seminary class. She recalls, “I did temple work for the first time. I was really happy, and I wanted to go again. I really wanted my family to go there and be sealed for eternity.”
Katya’s family prepared and finally felt that they were ready to go to the temple. Two years after her first visit to the temple, Katya returned, this time with her family. “I understood that it really is a place where families can become eternal,” Katya says. They were sealed in the Freiberg Germany Temple.
Katya and Ivana are grateful for the Church, and both have benefited from its offerings, especially Personal Progress. “My testimony of Personal Progress is that it makes us stronger and helps us be perfected in every aspect of our lives,” says Katya.
Ivana feels that Young Women and Church organizations have helped her prepare to be a missionary. Ivana is positive about missionary work. She says, “Don’t get discouraged, but always be an example of how the Church changes our lives. We’re happy in it, and every person wants to be happy. And if we take people and show them that happiness, then they will follow our example. We always can—with small steps—help those people, serve them, and in some wonderful moment, they will be ready.”

My dad taught me the other most memorable lesson of my youth. This one came when I was struggling to choose which college I wanted to attend and play golf for. I had several offers but didn’t know where to go. Eventually I narrowed my search to three schools. Yet when the time came to sign with a school, I sat at my kitchen table staring at three National Letters of Intent with no idea who to sign with.

At the time my dad was a successful golfer on the Senior PGA Tour. But he didn’t try to influence my decision. Instead he allowed me to make my own choice about college.

Finally I reached out to my dad and asked him, “Where should I go?”

He responded with a question: “Well, what do you want?”

I was confused. “What do you mean, what do I want?”

He asked another question: “What do you want out of life?”

After thinking about it, I told him what I wanted.

He replied, “Then choose the school that will give you that.”

In order to get what you want in life, you have to first know what you want. It is hard to think and act for yourself when you don’t know what to think and act upon.

In stark contrast, I share the example of another young man. Through the years I have watched how his parents have taught him from infancy to unwaveringly live the commandments of God. By example and precept, they nurtured him and their other children in truth. They encouraged the development of discipline and sacrifice to obtain worthy goals. This young man chose swimming as an activity that could instill in his character these qualities. The early-morning practice sessions required discipline and sacrifice. Over time he excelled in that sport.
Then came the challenges—for example, a championship swim meet on Sunday. Would he participate? To help his team win the championship, would he rationalize an exception to his rule of not swimming on Sunday? No, he would not yield, even under intense peer pressure. He was peppered with derisive comments, even physically abused. But he would not yield. The rejection of friends, the loneliness, and the pressure brought times of sadness and tears. But he would not yield. He was learning firsthand what each of us must come to know, the reality of Paul’s counsel to Timothy: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Tim. 3:12). I have observed how over the years this consistent pattern of righteous living—woven from hundreds of correct decisions, some in the face of great challenge—has developed a character of strength and capacity. Now, as a missionary, he is respected by his peers for his capacity to work, his knowledge of truth, his unwavering devotion, and his determination to share the gospel. One who earlier was rejected by his peers now has become a leader of his peers.

I was born in England in 1942 into a loving family of mother, father, and sister. When I was seven, we were blessed with another addition to our family—a baby boy. My mother loved the Savior but was not a member of any particular church. She would attend the nearest church and encourage my sister and me to attend with her. Consequently, I learned a great deal about Jesus Christ and hoped to find a church to strengthen my faith in Him.
One day there came into our house a large picture book called Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Annual. I do not know where it came from. At the time I thought that perhaps one of my friends had brought it over and forgotten to take it home. It had picture stories of Buffalo Bill and Billy the Kid, just the kind of information that was important to a boy who wanted to be a cowboy. It also told the story in pictures of a persecuted people who were expelled from a beautiful city by a lawless mob and forced to trek hundreds of miles and endure endless torment before they established a new home in a western wilderness. Each little picture told a dramatic story of suffering and faith, and the story included a few pictures of a miracle involving crickets eating crops and seagulls eating crickets.
I read the story several times before I realized that the poor, persecuted people were members of a church. Then it slowly dawned on me that this church was the one that I was looking for. I wanted to join that church. Unfortunately, I was presented with a problem. The last picture in the story described Salt Lake City, Utah. From another source I was able to learn that Utah was in the United States of America. Since I had no hope of traveling from England to Utah, I would have to give up my plan of joining the Church. It never occurred to me that the Church might be located anywhere other than the United States.
And so matters rested until 11 years later. By that time my family had immigrated to Australia and settled in Sydney. There my brother began investigating a new religion. He brought home a few pamphlets that interested me and said he would ask the elders to call. I agreed, thinking I would be visited by a couple of distinguished old men. I was quite surprised when two young men about my own age called and taught me the basics of the plan of salvation. I was intrigued and agreed to undertake a series of discussions.
I listened to the missionaries but had no intention of joining the Church, especially when I learned about tithing. One day, however, one of the missionaries started talking about some pioneers who had been forced to make a long march to a place called Salt Lake City. I pricked up my ears and started to ask questions. Was this the church with the crickets and seagulls? When he mentioned Brigham Young, I immediately recognized the name and realized I had arrived at a major crossroads in my life. If I was to join any church, this was the one.
The problem of tithing was solved when I learned about the Word of Wisdom. I calculated that I spent 10 percent of my income on cigarettes and alcohol. So by paying tithing I would not be any worse off financially, and the money would be put to a far better use than clogging my lungs with black tar and poisoning my liver.
In the meantime, my brother had also given the pamphlets to my mother. She agreed to read them on the train to work that day. When she came home in the evening, she was totally converted to the Church. She was disappointed to hear that she had to have a series of missionary lessons before she could be baptized!
So we all joined the Church—first my brother, then I joined a week later, and my mother was baptized and confirmed a week after that. My father held out for 21 years but finally joined in 1985. We were all sealed in the Sydney temple a year later.
I have been to Salt Lake City several times and have visited Church historic sites in Palmyra, Kirtland, and Nauvoo. In all the places I go, I am reminded of the story in the Buffalo Bill picture book and never cease to thank the Lord for bringing it into my life when I was a boy of 10.

When I was 14 years old, I began my first job, earning 2 U.S. dollars per hour as a construction laborer. The paycheck for my first week totaled 80 dollars. I wanted to buy an eight-track tape stereo, which was the newest music technology at the time. The full-function model I wanted cost 320 dollars. I excitedly shared with Mom and Dad my intent to purchase the stereo after completing four weeks of work.
My parents wisely taught, “It will take more than four weeks to earn enough money to buy that music player. You should express gratitude to God for His many blessings by paying 10 percent of your income as tithing. You will need to pay the government about 10 percent in taxes. And you should learn while young to obey the counsel of prophets in preparing financially for the future, including your mission; we suggest you set aside 30 percent of your earnings in a savings account.”
My teenage mind quickly calculated that if I did as my parents taught, I would have only 40 dollars each week to spend, which meant I would have to work at least two months to purchase my desired stereo. I found myself at a critical decision point—would obtaining material possessions be my priority, or would I sacrifice to pay tithing and set aside savings?
I decided at age 14 to pay an honest tithing for the remainder of my life. I determined to follow the prophet in saving money for my mission and future education. This experience also taught me to distinguish between wants and needs. I wanted the newest technology, but I did not need it. So I decided to buy a much less expensive model with fewer functions, and it was still performing well when I left on my mission.

Since both Jacob and Jeff are living at home, they have been able to serve as home teachers with their father. They have also helped in the ward nursery and in the ward library. And they are also able to bless the sacrament regularly. “Jacob and Jeff take about three minutes longer to say the prayers,” Bishop Nye observes, “but they are so sincere that the spirituality is augmented immeasurably.” With tears in his eyes, their father talks about the example older brother Jeremy set by walking Jacob and Jeff through their sacrament assignments as deacons until they understood how to pass, as teachers until they understood how to prepare, and as priests until they were comfortable saying the prayers and distributing the trays.
Just as Jacob and Jeff have looked to older brothers as an example, they are now passing on that same legacy of priesthood service to their younger brother, Jesse, 19, now serving in the New York Utica Mission, and their youngest brother Jason, 17, who is also preparing for a full-time mission.
“Without Jacob and Jeff, I wouldn’t be who I am,” Jesse says. “They prove that there’s something good out there for every person to do.”