Gospel Story Finder

Other preparatory episodes in his life show divine design. Not long after young Elder Faust’s arrival in Brazil, Elder Wm. Grant Bangerter, his second missionary companion, welcomed Elder Faust at a time when missionaries were having very little success. The senior companion watched young Elder Faust boldly approach one of his first houses. Elder Bangerter skeptically thought he wouldn’t be able to converse enough to do any good. Elder Bangerter even turned his back on Brother Faust to emphasize that the contact was Brother Faust’s, not his! But young Elder Faust’s conversation with the woman at the window led to the Dedo-Valeixo family’s joining the Church (see Ensign, October 1986, page 6).

We were swimming in the pool at a hotel and found a pocket watch at the bottom of the pool. We asked a lot of people if the watch belonged to them. They all said no. At the end of the day, we felt like we should go to the pool one more time with the watch. There was a family in the pool. We asked if the watch was theirs. They said it was, and they had been looking for it all week. It belonged to their dad, and it cost a lot of money. I’m glad we listened to the Holy Ghost so the watch could be returned.

Seventy-five years ago, Bishop William F. Perschon presided over the Fourth Ward of the Pioneer Stake in Salt Lake City. He was a German immigrant, a convert to the Church, and he spoke with a thick accent. He was a fine businessman, but what most distinguished him was his great compassion for others.

Each week during priesthood meeting, Bishop Perschon had the Aaronic Priesthood bearers recite the following phrase: “Priesthood means service; bearing the priesthood, I will serve.”

It wasn’t merely a slogan. When widows needed assistance, Bishop Perschon and the Aaronic Priesthood were there to help. When a chapel was being built, Bishop Perschon and the Aaronic Priesthood were there. When the sugar beets and potatoes at the welfare farm needed weeding or harvesting, Bishop Perschon and the Aaronic Priesthood were there.

Later, William Perschon served in the stake presidency, where he influenced a young bishop by the name of Thomas S. Monson. In the 1950s, Bishop Perschon was called to preside over the Swiss-Austrian Mission and played an instrumental role in building the first “overseas” temple, located in Bern, Switzerland.

You could scarcely think of Bishop Perschon without thinking of his concern and compassion for others and his untiring commitment to teach that same quality to others. Of the young men in the Aaronic Priesthood over whom he presided as bishop, 29 went on to become bishops themselves. Ten served in stake presidencies. Five became mission presidents, three accepted calls as temple presidents, and two served as General Authorities.

That is the power of a great leader, brethren. That is the power of service.

In 1950, Betty met her husband, Bill, who had migrated from Belfast, Northern Ireland to also find work at the shipyard. They married a year later and had three boys and one girl, but sadly, a road accident would take their second eldest son, Donal, at the age of 21. Betty now has 11 grandchildren and 26 great grandchildren and says, “Every one of them is lovely.”

You might have seen Nick Whitaker before. He’s been in seminary videos and a few other productions during his short acting career. Now, Nick, 16, is portraying the Prophet Joseph Smith in a new movie about the Prophet’s life.
The movie will soon replace The Testaments of One Fold and One Shepherd at the Legacy Theater in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in downtown Salt Lake City. The new movie is part of the Church’s commemoration of the 200th birthday of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
Nick’s real-life brother, Max, 11, plays William Smith, one of Joseph’s younger brothers. Max played the part of William Smith in The Restoration DVD as well.
The brothers enjoy working together. They say their testimonies of the Prophet have been built up by their parts in this movie. They have studied about the Smith family and the Prophet and have prayed continually about their parts.
“I’ve gotten to know Joseph Smith a lot better,” says Nick. “I only knew the highlights of his life before. But even the little parts of his life are highlights now. I know he is a true prophet.”
One of the things Nick learned is that Joseph Smith walked with a slight limp as a result of a surgery he had when he was young. Nick had to learn to walk with a small limp, too, to play his part.
Max says he can feel the Spirit when he is filming and learning more about the Prophet. “It has strengthened my testimony,” he says.
Nick and Max hope the new movie will change people’s lives and strengthen testimonies of the Prophet Joseph Smith and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It had been an unusually warm day in Lüneburg, Germany, and Elder Kevin Pepper and I were tired. Our last appointment ended at 9:00 P.M., and we had a half hour more to work before returning to our apartment. It was too late for knocking on doors, so we got on our bikes and rode to Lüneburg’s central shopping district. Most of the shops had closed three hours earlier, and the busy daytime crowds were gone—leaving only a few window-shoppers enjoying the evening, in no hurry to get anywhere.
We pushed our bikes slowly, stopping now and then to ask fellow pedestrians if they would like to know something about the restored gospel. No one was interested. And this was typical. Germany was considered a “hard mission.” Few baptisms. Lots of knocking on doors and stopping pedestrians. People were usually polite, but they were cautious about anything new, for the most part unwilling to consider a change in religions.
We reached the far end of the street at about 9:25. Time to head for our apartment. But there in the evening shadows, leaning against a wall, was a man with thinning hair and a somewhat straggly beard. I looked at Elder Pepper; he looked at me. We were tired, we’d had no success that day, and I could tell we were thinking the same thought. One of us may have even spoken it aloud: “He’s probably just like the rest of the people we’ve talked to today. Let’s go home.” But something inside me said, “Go talk to him.”
We approached the man and asked if he knew anything about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He didn’t. Would he like to learn something about it? Yes, he said, and he gave us his address.
When we visited Alfred Kliche later that week, we discovered he was markedly different from most of the people we talked with. He was more reserved, more serious than most, but also more open-minded. He was searching for something. As he later put it, “I was considering becoming acquainted with other people who, like me, had not yet lost their faith in God.” He showed us a book he was reading, a book from an Eastern religion. We taught him about Joseph Smith and gave him a book of our own. He accepted it with reserved curiosity and said he’d read it.
We left after that first discussion not knowing quite what to think about Herr Kliche. Personally, I doubted he’d read the book. The first year of my mission—a year with no baptisms and plenty of disappointments—had left its mark on me. I’d seen enough “reality” to dilute my hopes with a fair dose of skepticism. But Herr Kliche invited us back, and when we came to teach him again, he told us he had read a good deal in the Book of Mormon. He said he particularly enjoyed the Isaiah chapters in 2 Nephi. During my 10 months in Germany, no one had ever made that claim before. In fact, I don’t recall having heard it in the 23 years since.
We taught Herr Kliche all through an unusually hot July and into August. He made slow, steady progress but seemed in no hurry to make any permanent changes in his life. Elder Pepper and I didn’t really know what was going on inside him. He was as indecipherable as the Eastern religious book he had shown us.
Then one day in early August a letter came from the mission office. I was being transferred. Elder Pepper and I had a few good investigators by this time, and it was hard to leave them. I wondered what would happen. But immersing myself in a new area and in the lives of a new group of investigators and members took all my attention and left me little time to worry about Lüneburg.
One day several weeks after the transfer, however, I received a phone call from Elder Pepper. He told me Herr Kliche was getting baptized on 16 October, and he wanted me to be there. Since my transfer had been merely to the other side of the Hamburg stake, our mission president gave me permission to attend.
Elder Pepper told me over the phone that Herr Kliche had made slow, steady progress for the most part, but in the end he completely surprised them. The missionaries had given him a baptismal challenge on 21 September, and he had accepted. But on 28 September he was concerned. He believed he had received a witness but wanted to be sure. Then, a few days later, everything seemed to fall apart. Herr Kliche informed them he wasn’t interested in meeting with them anymore. Elder Pepper and Elder Hardy were devastated. Where had they gone wrong? What could they do?
But on 3 October something unexpected happened. Elder Pepper recorded in his journal: “Herr Kliche came to church this morning. … The Spirit was so strong that everyone in the tiny chapel could feel it, especially Herr Kliche. He sat in the second row to the left all by himself. … With tears in his eyes he stood and bore his testimony. The sun shone through the large windows, and a beam of light appeared to shine directly on him as he bore a simple and beautiful testimony. It was so sincere. He said he felt fulfilled in this Church and hoped to become a member soon. Just seven weeks or so ago he was ready to give up his search for the truth; he didn’t see any reason why he should change churches, because they were all about the same. And now the Spirit of Truth has helped him see the difference, and he wants to be a member. I was so thrilled I could hardly keep the joy I felt inside. Today will always be a cherished memory.”
Ironically, four days later Elder Pepper was transferred to Kiel and was unable to attend the baptism. But on 16 October 1976, my companion and I took the subway into Hamburg, walked to the stake center, and there witnessed the baptism of Alfred Kliche, a rare and gratifying event in the course of a difficult mission. I have kept in touch with Bruder Kliche over the years. Indeed, his conversion, because it was complete and enduring, has brought me much joy.
The little Lüneburg Branch was dissolved a few years after Bruder Kliche’s baptism, and the members were absorbed into a Hamburg ward. Bruder Kliche, always solid in the gospel, has served in the bishopric and on the stake high council. He also married a fine Latter-day Saint, and after several years they served a temple mission together. “I am here to serve the Lord,” he wrote me recently, “and to make progress. We are very thankful for our time in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
As I look back to that summer evening in 1976, I am glad Elder Pepper and I were not too tired to talk to just one more son of our Heavenly Father. We almost didn’t, and it has been a lesson to me ever since. Had we quit a few minutes early, what a loss it would have been—for us, for the Church, and, most of all, for Bruder Kliche.

The elementary school in our area was having a program in the gymnasium for both parents and students. The students sat close together on the floor. The fifth graders were seated near the back of the room with students from the special education class who had physical and mental disabilities.
During the program, one of the older boys in that class began to cry loudly. Many in the room either ignored him or stared at him in embarrassment. Shanie Atwood, a fifth grader, leaned close to him and kindly began to rub his back. This calmed him, and soon he was quietly enjoying the program again.
Jesus would not have ignored the boy or given him unkind looks. He would have helped, and that is exactly what Shanie did. She was a Christlike example that day.

As Christmas approached one year, I was physically and mentally exhausted. My marriage had ended the summer before, and my three children and I had recently moved to a new location to attend a university, where I was studying for a teaching degree. I had no money, and my two boys, ages 16 and 12, and my kindergarten-age daughter needed warm clothing for the cold winter weather.
While I studied for finals, thoughts about my situation kept interrupting me. My cupboards were bare, I had very little money, and I was tired of trying to be both father and mother to my children. I’d had a temple marriage, had been active in the Church all my life, and had just wanted to stay home and raise my children. Life seemed so unfair.
My first exam was at 7:30 A.M. I left our apartment hoping my boys would remember to get their little sister off to school on time. The air was cold and the sky very dark. I took a shortcut through the cemetery, feeling I was on my way to failure. I had spent half the night studying and trying to remember what I had studied. I felt too old to compete with the young minds of other students.
As I tramped through the snow, I thought about my parents, who were coming to pick us up and take us to spend Christmas at my sister’s home, a home where there would be a large tree and a mountain of gifts. And here I was unable to buy shoes for my own children. My feelings of resentment continued to build. By the time I reached the building for my final exams, I was in a terrible mood. I tried to concentrate but felt I did poorly on my exams. All I wanted was to go home, go to bed, and stay there for two weeks!
I began to trudge home through the snow once again. I stopped at my daughter’s school to pick her up, but her teacher said she had gone home. That did it! I had asked her to wait for me, and now I was mad at her for not waiting. Entering the cemetery I spotted her bright blue parka poking out from behind a tombstone. She was hiding from me, waiting for me to pass so she could jump out and scare me, but I was in no mood for games. I walked on, pretending not to see her. Then I heard her shout, “Mama, Mama, wait for me!”
I turned on her, ready to chastise her for not waiting. But before I could say anything she shoved an envelope in my hands. “Mama,” she said, “look what I made you today. You can open it. It’s for Christmas. I made it just for you!”
I opened the envelope, and inside was a handmade Christmas card with “Merry Christmas” printed in a child’s scrawl. She had drawn Santa flying through the air and little houses beneath him. She had drawn in the corner of the card another scene—a picture of a baby. But this was no ordinary baby. With yellow crayon she had drawn lines all around Him, signifying radiant beams shining from heaven above. There was a halo above His head, and with the brightest red crayon she could find she had drawn a great big smile on His face. No, this wasn’t just any baby. This was baby Jesus, the baby who would grow up to become the Savior of the world.
I looked at baby Jesus. I had been baptized in His name; I belonged to His Church, which had been restored upon the earth; it was in His name that I prayed for strength, guidance, and direction. He had always been there for me. I love baby Jesus, I said to myself.
As I acknowledged my love for Him, something wonderful happened to me. Even though I had been freezing before, a great warmth swept over me. I felt His love envelop me. He loved me; He really did.
I began to count my blessings, including my children. The night before, my 12-year-old son had given me one dollar that he had earned baby-sitting so I could buy bread and milk. And my young daughter who stood before me—I had waited seven years hoping for this child. What a blessing she had been in my life.
Now she looked up at me, her brown eyes sparkling with the excitement of Christmas. Her naturally curly hair poked out from the hood of her parka; her little nose was red from cold. “Mama, don’t you like my picture?” she asked.
“Oh, I love your picture,” I told her. “It’s beautiful!”
“Then why are you crying?” she asked me.
“I’m crying because I love you and your brothers very much. I’m happy we are a family and can be together this Christmas. That’s the most important thing in the world right now. We are going to have a wonderful Christmas.”
I took hold of my daughter’s hand, and we began to sing Christmas carols as we skipped down the snowy path.
It has been more than 30 years since that special Christmas. I passed my exams and went on to become a schoolteacher. But the lesson of that one Christmas has warmed me many times since as I recall the gift of love that touched my heart that day.

We just recently had our third child, a baby girl named Faith. During the delivery, my wife was having some complications and we were scared for our baby. I gave Julia a blessing. Then she asked me to sing to her. The Spirit brought peace to both of us. Soon baby Faith came safely into the world. It was a miracle, and she definitely lived up to her name. Faith’s beautiful smile brightens my life. I can’t express in words how much she means to me.

The girls attending girls’ camp from the Evanston Wyoming Stake learned about doing things well as they worked toward receiving the Extra-Mile award.
In the Campcrafter program are six requirements for each level, and the campers are only required to do three of the six. As the stake camp director, Marilee Jackson, put it, “We found that most of the girls were choosing the three easiest, so we tried to get them to accomplish them all by giving the Extra-Mile award.” Ninety percent of those attending camp earned the award.
The leaders of the stake designed a patch for the award that could be sewn on their camp coats along with their Campcrafter patch.

Jana B. from Baden-Württemberg, Germany, also loves to spread Christmas joy through simple acts of service.
“At first, we’d give our neighbors handmade gifts like soap, candles, or cookies,” Jana says. “Then, little by little, the neighbors started giving out Christmas gifts too. Now it’s a tradition. This year we baked the cookies for our neighbors with the missionaries and talked to our neighbors to bring them peace and joy. We don’t always do things with our neighbors and sometimes forget that they’re always there for us. When we give them Christmas gifts, it’s like a thank-you for helping us all year.”

Not long ago, my wife and I decided that we should more fully experience the beauty of an area close to our home in northwest Montana. We determined to take our bicycles to the Hiawatha Trail, a converted rail line that crosses the beautiful Rocky Mountains between Montana and Idaho. We anticipated a fun day with good friends, enjoying the natural beauty of the area.
We knew our ride along the magnificent 15-mile (24 km) trail would include trestles stretching over deep canyons and long tunnels penetrating rugged mountains. So we prepared ourselves with lights strapped to our helmets and bicycles.
Those who had gone before warned us that the tunnels were dark and that we needed really strong lights. As we gathered in front of the massive stone opening of the Taft Tunnel, a caretaker explained some of the dangers of the trail, including deep ditches along the edges, rough walls, and complete darkness. Impatiently, we pushed forward into the tunnel. After we had ridden only a few minutes, the predicted darkness engulfed us. The lights I brought proved inadequate, and the darkness soon overwhelmed them. Suddenly, I began to feel anxious, confused, and disoriented.
I was embarrassed to admit my anxieties to my friends and family. Although an experienced cyclist, I now felt as though I had never ridden a bicycle. I struggled to stay upright as my confusion increased. Finally, after I did express my discomfort to those around me, I was able to draw closer to the more powerful light of a friend. In fact, everyone in the group began to form a tight circle around him. By staying close to him and relying for a time on his light and the collective light of the group, we pushed deeper into the darkness of the tunnel.
After what seemed like hours, I saw a pinpoint of light. Almost immediately, I began to feel reassured that all would be well. I continued to press forward, relying on both the light of my friends and the growing pinpoint of light. My confidence gradually returned as the light grew in size and intensity. Long before reaching the end of the tunnel, I no longer needed the assistance of my friends. All anxiety disappeared as we pedaled quickly toward the light. I felt calm and reassured even before we rode into the morning full of warmth and splendor.

I love to read. But I can hardly stand it if a novel gets too intense—if the hero’s life is too dangerous or sad or complicated. So I have to read ahead to the end just to make sure that everything will turn out all right for the main character.

Shortly after Elder Monte J. Brough of the Seventy met with several government officials and university directors, five missionary couples entered Mongolia in 1992 and 1993 to assist the country’s higher education system and teach people about the Church. In 1993 Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles dedicated Mongolia for the preaching of the gospel, and the Ulaanbaatar Branch was organized that same year.

Just as his parents cared for him, President Faust cared for his family. Following a mission to Brazil, he married Ruth Wright in the Salt Lake Temple on April 21, 1943. Soon afterwards, the military sent him overseas. He couldn’t see Ruth for a long time, but he wrote her a letter every day. Sometimes the letters took a while to arrive. One day Ruth got about 90 letters all at once!

DR Congo health officials were so impressed by how the Church handled its part of the measles campaign, which included radio and television advertising, they asked for help with another project.
In 2008 the Church paid for the production of updated materials—posters and flip charts—so the government could train health specialists and educate mothers about the importance of primary vaccinations such as measles, polio, tetanus, and tuberculosis.
“[The Church’s] gift will help us educate families and make them healthier,” said Dr. Charlotte Ngokaba, National Director of Vaccinations in the DR Congo.

One Sunday afternoon when I was a bishop, a very disillusioned woman came to talk with me. She and her large family had recently moved into our ward. She told me that while she was growing up she had been taught many times that if she lived a faithful life and sought spiritual guidance, she would find her “one and only eternal companion,” and that temple marriage and righteous living would guarantee her a successful marriage. She had tried to follow this counsel, but after many years of an apparently happy marriage, her husband abandoned her for another woman, leaving her with many children and no financial foundation.
“What went wrong?” she asked. “Doesn’t God keep his promises?”
After attending to her feelings of pain and confusion, I reassured her of God’s love and suggested that the problem wasn’t with God or with her, but with her former husband—and with people who had led her to believe some things that just aren’t so.

I remember two friends from my high school and university years. He was a boy from a country town, plain in appearance, without money or apparent promise. He had grown up on a farm, and if he had any quality that was attractive it was the capacity to work. He carried sandwiches in a brown paper bag for his lunch and swept the school floors to pay for his education. But with all of his country appearance, he had a smile and a personality that seemed to sing of goodness. She was a city girl who had come out of a comfortable home. She would not have won a beauty contest. But she was wholesome in her decency and integrity and attractive in her good manners and dress.
Something wonderful took place between them. They fell in love. Some people whispered that there were far more promising boys for her, and a gossip or two noted that perhaps other girls might have interested him. But these two laughed and danced and studied together through their school years. They married when people wondered how they could ever earn enough to stay alive. He struggled through his professional school and came out well in his class. She saved and worked and prayed. She encouraged and sustained, and when things were really tough, she said quietly, “Somehow we can make it.” Buoyed by her faith in him, he kept going through these difficult years. Children came, and together they loved them and nourished them and gave them the security that came of their own love for and loyalty to one another. Now many years have passed. Their children are grown, a lasting credit to them, to the Church, and to the communities in which they live.
I remember seeing them on an airplane, as I returned from a Church assignment. I walked down the aisle in the semi-darkness of the aircraft cabin and saw a woman, white-haired, her head on her husband’s shoulder as she dozed. His hand was clasped warmly about hers. He was awake and recognized me. She awakened, and we talked. They were returning from a convention where he had delivered a paper before a learned society. He said little about it, but she proudly spoke of the honors accorded him.
I wish that I might have caught with a camera the look on her face as she talked of him. Forty-five years earlier people without understanding had asked what they saw in each other. I thought of that as I returned to my seat on the airplane. Their friends of those days saw only a farm boy from the country and a smiling girl with freckles on her nose. But these two found in each other love and loyalty, peace and faith in the future.
There was a flowering in them of something divine, planted there by that Father who is our God. In their school days they had lived worthy of that flowering of love. They had lived with virtue and faith, with appreciation and respect for self and one another. In the years of their difficult professional and economic struggles, they had found their greatest earthly strength in their companionship. Now in mature age, they were finding peace and quiet satisfaction together. Beyond all this, they were assured of an eternity of joyful association through priesthood covenants long since made and promises long since given in the House of the Lord.

Back in 1913, Scouting had just been adopted by the Church, and the boys of Troop 8, sponsored by the Provo (Utah) Sixth Ward, gathered to have their photo taken before hiking to Maple Flats. According to Paul Barrett Stewart, who was one of the boys participating that day, Troop 8 was “one of the first Boy Scout Troops that the LDS church sponsored.”
Brother Stewart says that “because we were just organized, we were too early to have uniforms. We were lucky to have a Scout manual!”
The first Boy Scout camp was held in England in 1907. Scouting in the U.S. began officially on February 8, 1910. The LDS church celebrated 75 years of Scouting in 1988.
Scouting is a movement that still strengthens and builds young men. Happy 75th birthday, LDS Scouts!

President Monson told about Sister McKee’s three canaries. Two were yellow all over. They looked perfect! The third didn’t look perfect because it had gray spots on its wings. But Sister McKee loved it because it sang so sweetly.