Gospel Story Finder

In contrast, seniority is honored among ordained Apostles—even when entering or leaving a room. President Benson related to us this account:
“Some [years] ago Elder Haight extended a special courtesy to President Romney while they were in the upper room in the temple. President Romney was lingering behind for some reason, and [Elder Haight] did not want to precede him out the door. When President Romney signaled [for him] to go first, Elder Haight replied, ‘No, President, you go first.’
“President Romney replied with his humor, ‘What’s the matter, David? Are you afraid I’m going to steal something?’”

A young bishop of my acquaintance can testify to the impact of unkempt appearance on those around us and its relationship to the drug culture. One evening last June, Bishop E. Wayne Nelson of the South Shore Ward in Griffith, Indiana, received a telephone call from a jailer in an Indiana city, fifty miles from his home. The jailer was holding two Mormon boys who were charged with possession of narcotics. Bishop Nelson made several visits as these young men waited in jail for their cases to be heard. He learned that both were from Utah, the sons of active Latter-day Saint parents. Both had tampered with drugs in this state. Both had adopted an unkempt appearance, including shoulder-length hair. Soon after they arrived in Gary, Indiana, to look for work, and while they were walking down a street, a peddler of narcotics approached them and invited them to make a purchase. Faced with that temptation at that time in that place, the boys chose not to resist. Soon after this transaction they were arrested and charged with possession of the drugs they had purchased. After the bishop heard their story in jail, he asked them, “Why do you think the peddler approached you?” One boy responded, “I guess it was our appearance; we just looked like users.” These young men had taken upon themselves the badges of the drug culture, and they were easily identified and approached by those who sought to profit from their weakness.

I’m aware of a man who was involved in moral transgressions several years ago. For some time, this man felt too ashamed and too worried to approach his wife and his priesthood leaders. He wanted to fully repent but actually expressed that he was willing to give up his own eternal salvation rather than put his spouse and children through the sorrow, shame, or other consequences that might be caused by his confession.

Finally, this dear man confessed to his faithful wife and his Church leaders, expressing deep remorse. Though it was the most difficult thing he had ever done, feelings of relief, peace, gratitude, love for our Savior, and a knowledge that the Lord was lifting his heavy burden and carrying him caused joy beyond expression, regardless of the outcome and his future.

He had been certain that his wife and children would be devastated—and they were; and that there would be disciplinary action and a release from his calling—and there was. He was certain that his wife would be brokenhearted, hurt, and angry—and she was. And he was convinced that she would leave, taking the children with her—but she didn’t.

Sometimes serious transgression leads to divorce, and depending on circumstances, that might be necessary. But to this man’s amazement, his wife embraced him and dedicated herself to helping him in any way that she could. Over time, she was able to fully forgive him. She had felt the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement for her. Years later, this couple and their three children are strong and faithful. The husband and wife serve in the temple and have a wonderful, loving marriage. The depth of this man’s testimony and his love and gratitude for the Savior are so evident in his life.

For example, the great Russian statesman, author, and philosopher, Count Leo Nikolayevich Tolstoi, had a very high opinion of the work of the Prophet Joseph Smith, as indicated in the account of his conversation about a century ago with Dr. Andrew D. White, former president of Cornell University and U.S. foreign minister to Russia:

“Dr. White,” said Count Tolstoi, “I wish you would tell me about your American religion.”

“We have no state church in America,” replied Dr. White.

“I know that, but what about your American religion?”

Patiently then Dr. White explained to the Count that in America there are many religions, and that each person is free to belong to the particular church in which he is interested.

To this Tolstoi impatiently replied: “I know all of this, but I want to know about the American religion. Catholicism originated in Rome; the Episcopal Church originated in England; the Lutheran Church in Germany, but the Church to which I refer originated in America, and is commonly known as the Mormon Church. What can you tell me about the teachings of the Mormons?”

“Well,” said Dr. White, “I know very little concerning them. They have an unsavory reputation, they practice polygamy, and are very superstitious.”

Then Count Leo Tolstoi, in his honest and stern, but lovable manner, rebuked the ambassador. “Dr. White, I am greatly surprised and disappointed that a man of your great learning and position should be so ignorant on this important subject. The Mormon people teach the American religion; their principles teach the people not only of Heaven and its attendant glories, but how to live so that their social and economic relations with each other are placed on a sound basis. If the people follow the teachings of this Church, nothing can stop their progress—it will be limitless. There have been great movements started in the past but they have died or been modified before they reached maturity. If Mormonism is able to endure, unmodified, until it reaches the third and fourth generations, it is destined to become the greatest power the world has ever known.” [LeGrand Richards, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, rev. ed. (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1973), pp. 435–36; emphasis in original]

Like most boys from Whitney, “T” had a desire to share the gospel himself. As a child, he had sat in Sunday School listening to returned missionaries tell about the “happiest two years” of their lives. Even when they reported persecutions it only fed the missionary flame within his young heart. Later, he went to the stake patriarch for a blessing. “Brother Dalley very slowly pronounced a blessing upon my head, which included an answer to a boy’s prayer. I was promised, if faithful of course, that I would go on a mission to the nations of the earth and would raise my voice in testimony and that many would rise up and bless my name because of my influence in helping to bring them into the Church.

“I went home walking on air, I was so happy.” When the time came, “T” accepted a call to the British Mission. He attended his farewell party, as so many boys from Whitney before him, on the old tennis court.

The beginning of Elder Benson’s fruitful mission is the beginning of the end of this story of a boy from Whitney. The boy would come back two and a half years later, a boy no longer but a tried and seasoned man. He spent several more years in the Whitney area, served as an outstanding Scoutmaster, married a beautiful and righteous wife, grew and learned, but that is another story.

This much can be said, however—that Brother Benson and Elder Benson and President Benson never stopped loving his hometown, never stopped visiting his old ward, never stopped dropping in on his old friends, because a boy from Whitney does not forget.

Another rewarding encounter came with a post-doctoral research student who was studying early Christian history at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. As far as I could tell, this bright scholar had been given every possible honor and privilege of study within the vast Vatican libraries. A mutual friend introduced us at a meeting specifically to examine the Book of Mormon, particularly some of its ritual and historical texts. For instance, we discussed the description of Lehi’s attitudes in the context of contemporary international affairs. Israel’s rulers had formed an alliance with Egypt against their traditional enemy, Babylon; but Jeremiah had vehemently criticized this choice, and there seems to be evidence that Lehi’s political sympathies were as unpopular as Jeremiah’s. One of Babylon’s allies was Sidon; but Sidon’s twin city, Tyre, had allied with Egypt. The people of the Book of Mormon frequently used the name Sidon. There is a city named Sidon, a river named Sidon and, even a man named Gidgiddonah, which, as Dr. Hugh Nibley of Brigham Young University points out, is the Egyptian name for Sidon. But the name Tyre never appears in any form in the Book of Mormon, whereas in the Old Testament the two names are constantly linked; one hardly ever appears without the other. This apparent preference for Sidon over Tyre in the Book of Mormon fits perfectly into the world situation that Lehi knew and may support Brother Nibley’s deduction that Lehi may have been a trader with close personal connections in foreign cities, his safety and prosperity guaranteed by the Chuwa, or “contract of friendship” that protected an alien in another city-state. Naturally, even though he knew Egyptian, he (as did Jeremiah) would still deplore Israel’s alliance with Egypt, since he saw his nation turning away from safety. (Approach to the Book of Mormon, Melchizedek Priesthood Course, 1957, p. 52.)

That was only one of the many areas that I wished to discuss with this eminent scholar; and at first I feared it might be a difficult meeting. He had read several chapters in the Book of Mormon and had understood them fairly well, considering that it was his first reading of them. But he had concluded that the book was without substance. We looked again at what he had read. Then again, first from one angle and then another. Many hours and many words later, he was to admit willingly that the book was anything but meaningless. “Your book,” he said, “will have to be dealt with.”

Before I was five years old, I had discovered that the walkway of vinyl between our dining room and our kitchen was a good place to sulk, especially when I wanted my dissatisfaction to be noticed. I would sit there for a long time and feel that no one understood or loved me.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. My teenage sister, Rebecca, found me there one evening before dinner. She knelt down and quietly said to me, “Manda, let’s go count your freckles.”
It was a simple suggestion but so kindly put forth that I forgot my frowns and followed her to the bathroom mirror. She set up a stool for me so I’d be tall enough to see my nose up close in the mirror. With her chin resting on my head, she started with number one, and I helped her as high as I could count. I remember proudly entering the kitchen with the announcement that I had more than a thousand freckles, and we hadn’t even finished counting.
With just a small investment of her time and energy, my sister had changed my black mood. And, although my sulkiness that night probably wouldn’t have lasted very long, by giving me some positive attention, Rebecca insured me against the next time I felt unhappy.

The virtue of a life based on sound principles is shown in the story of Corrie ten Boom, a devout Dutch Christian who was imprisoned in the infamous women’s concentration camp at Ravensbrück during World War II because of her Christlike service in providing refuge to Jews and others. Corrie’s beloved sister, Betsie, was imprisoned with her. While in Ravensbrück, the two sisters held a nightly worship service at which they read from a Bible Corrie had smuggled past the sadistic guards. They read first in Dutch and then translated aloud in German. And then, said Corrie:

We would hear the life-giving words passed back along the aisles in French, Polish, Russian, Czech, back into Dutch. They were little previews of heaven, these evenings beneath the light bulb. . . . And I would know again that in darkness God’s truth shines most clear. [Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place (New York: Bantam Books, 1971), p. 201]

Nearly 100,000 other poor souls also knew that “in darkness God’s truth shines most clear.”

Betsie died, the victim of starvation, abuse, and disease. Corrie miraculously survived. Through a clerical error her papers were stamped Entlassen (released). A week later all women her age were taken to the gas chambers.

After the war was over, Corrie spoke often about her horrifying experiences. On one such occasion, at a church service in Munich, she saw one of her former tormentors, the former Nazi who had stood guard at the shower-room door in the prisoner-processing center at Ravensbrück. Corrie wrote:

And suddenly it was all there—the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s pain-blanched face.
[The former guard] came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing. “How grateful I am for your message, Fräulein.” he said. “To think that, as you say, He [Christ] has washed my sins away!”
His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.
Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.
I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.
As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.
And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, he gives, along with the command, the love itself. [The Hiding Place, p. 238]

I know a brother in Brazil who joined the Church as a 16-year-old, the only member in his family. When it was time for his mission, his parents objected. He heard nothing from them during his mission and returned home to his bishop’s house. The story, however, has a happy ending as he now has a beautiful family, works as a dental surgeon, and his parents wish he could interest his brothers in the Church.

Wilford made his home with the Prophet for about a week. On Sunday, Joseph called a priesthood meeting. They gathered in a little cabin: Joseph and Hyrum Smith, Oliver Cowdery, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Parley and Orson Pratt, and William E. McLellin. Young Woodruff heard them all bear testimony. Joseph spoke last and said: “Brethren, I am very much edified and interested in listening to your testimony. But I want to tell you that you know no more concerning. . . this work . . . than a parcel of little children.” Then he told them (in the words of Wilford Woodruff) that “this work would fill the whole earth, and that all nations would have to hear the proclamation of the gospel” (p. 30).

His criticism can become especially powerful in moments of grief, vulnerability, or pain. When I was 20 weeks pregnant with twins, we went to an appointment, excited to learn their gender. Instead, we found out that we had lost both babies. I went home overwhelmed with grief and questions: What did I do wrong? How could this happen? Why me? And in that vulnerable moment, another thought came: Your body is the worst. I chose to believe it. They were dark days. But when I finally found my way out of that place, I remember seeing that message for what it really was: a cruel lie from the adversary, used to deepen my pain. Through the quiet, patient, and gentle love of the Savior, I was able to let go of that lie and reembrace the truth. Deep down, I knew—and had always known—that my body was a gift from God.
I learned through this experience and others that we do not have to accept every message that enters our minds. We are not powerless against false messages. We can actively reject thoughts that pull us away from Christ and replace them with truth!

I have had experience with several sad situations where members - good members - became involved. There may not be a better example of a deception than pornography. Like the flies of the fly fisherman, users of pornography do not see the hook. One person I know well said to his wife, "why are you so upset? (speaking of his viewing pornography on the internet). This is not hurting anyone." They had two beautiful children. Soon however, he became involved with another woman, was excommunicated, divorced and lost the right to raise his children. As it turned out his pornography did hurt many people.

My family used to live in a large city on the east coast of the United States. While we lived there, I had the opportunity to perform in the Nutcracker Ballet. It was exciting, magical, and a dream come true, since I have taken dance lessons from the age of three.
In hopes of recreating the magic, I auditioned again for the Nutcracker in my new town. One week later, the new director of the ballet company called our home to offer me a part in the first act. However, because of a new company policy, rehearsals would take place every Sunday for the next three months.
My mom explained to the director that this would be a conflict with our religion, but she would present the choice to me and let me make the decision whether I would dance or not. The director then gave this charge: “Abby needs to choose what is most important to her.”
This was a hard choice for me as I looked at the pros and cons of accepting this part. I loved ballet with a passion, but I also knew what was right. I had learned a long time ago that the Savior taught what is right and what is wrong, and that it is left up to me to choose the good part. So I declined the invitation to dance in that year’s Nutcracker.
The next day was our Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation. The theme was “Choose the Right.” The main scripture our leaders chose to use was “Choose you this day whom ye will serve; … but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord” (Josh. 24:15). My mom and dad sat in the congregation, watching me while I sang with the Primary chorus these words: “Choose the right in all labors you’re pursuing; Let God and Heaven be your goal” (Hymns, no. 239).

A bishop in Utah recently shared with me an outpouring of love in his ward for a young woman and her family. Through a series of beautiful events, the parents determined to return to the Savior and His Church. During the time they were distant from the Church, their teenage daughter was involved with a young man. Returning, this precious daughter felt immense love from her Heavenly Father during a Young Women testimony meeting. She determined to more fully live the commandments. She wrote, “I began the repentance process with my bishop.”

Soon after, she became ill. In her words: “[A] test showed … I was pregnant. I … began to cry. … My dad wrapped me in his arms and assured me everything [would] be OK. … My boyfriend … asked me to get rid of the baby. … I declined.”

She continued: “I have received so much love and support from our ward family. It has been overwhelming. [My] bishop and Young Women president have gone above and beyond to show their love and support. … I have seen the Lord’s hand … guiding me and my family. … A ward such as mine is the family everyone needs, especially a young woman in my position.”

She and her family, and her ward family, lovingly welcomed her baby boy this past February.

Hearing stories got me excited to serve a mission. I couldn’t wait! I wanted to serve in Mexico, just like my grandpa. But the Lord called me to Guatemala. Years later I had the opportunity to serve as a mission president. I thought, “This time I’ll go to Mexico.” But the Lord wanted me to serve in Spain. When we serve where the Lord wants us, we’re blessed. I love the people of Guatemala and Spain.

Now, like most eleven-year-old boys, Steven loved basketball. One afternoon he went with his friends to watch a game on television. Thirty minutes later, he returned home. His mother was surprised because she knew the game wasn’t over. When she questioned Steven, he said the boys had decided to watch a different program, but the program made him feel dark inside. That feeling had helped Steven recognize he was in a setting where the Spirit could not be present, and he was too uncomfortable to stay.

When Sister Pieper and I were raising our family, we wanted to teach them good nutrition. We planned nutritionally balanced meals and encouraged our children to try eating each food served. As an incentive, we created a rule that only those who took at least one bite of each food served would be able to have sweets that day. One evening at dinner, our son Chris said that he did not want to eat his peas. We encouraged him to try at least one bite and reminded him of the rule that if he did, he would be able to have ice cream for dessert. Chris said that he wanted ice cream. We reminded him that if he wanted ice cream, he would first have to take a bite of his peas. He continued to insist that he wanted ice cream but refused to eat his peas. As a result, he watched while his brothers and sisters ate ice cream for dessert, complained the rule wasn’t fair.

The next day in family scripture study we were reading Alma’s teachings to his son Corianton about laws and punishments. We read that there are always consequences when laws are broken. Suddenly, Chris blurted out, “that’s peas and ice cream.” We had a good discussion of how we have agency to choose what we will do but we cannot choose the consequences of our actions. This helped us all learn important principles and apply them in our lives.

Fifty-one years ago I heard William J. Critchlow Jr., then president of the South Ogden Stake, retell a story concerning trust, honor, and duty.
“[Young] Rupert stood by the side of the road watching an unusual number of people hurry past. At length he recognized a friend. ‘Where are all of you going in such a hurry?’ he asked.
“The friend paused. … ‘The King has lost his royal emerald! … Everyone is searching, for the King has offered a reward … to the one who finds it. Come, we must hurry.’
“ ‘But I cannot go without asking Grandmother,’ faltered Rupert.
“ ‘Then I cannot wait. I want to find the emerald,’ replied his friend.
“Rupert hurried back to the cabin at the edge of the woods to seek his grandmother’s permission. …
“But his grandmother shook her head. ‘What would the sheep do?’ she asked. ‘Already they are restless in the pen, waiting to be taken to the pasture, and please do not forget to take them to water when the sun shines high in the heavens.’
“Sorrowfully, Rupert took the sheep to the pasture, and at noon he led them to the brook in the woods. There he sat on a large stone by the stream. ‘If I could only have had a chance to look for the King’s emerald!’ he thought. Turning his head to gaze down at the sandy bottom of the brook, suddenly he stared into the water. What was it? It could not be! He leaped into the water. … ‘The King’s emerald!’ he shouted.
“With shining eyes Rupert ran to his grandmother’s hut to tell her of his great find. ‘Bless you, my boy,’ she said, ‘but you never would have found it if you had not been doing your duty, herding the sheep.’ And Rupert knew that this was the truth.”

I have always been greatly impressed by the experience that Elder Orson F. Whitney had. He was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, and he related this in one of our conferences. I would like to read it to you. He said:
“Many years ago a learned man, a member of the Roman Catholic Church, came to Utah and spoke from the stand of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. I became well-acquainted with him, and we conversed freely and frankly. A great scholar, with perhaps a dozen languages at his tongue’s end, he seemed to know all about theology, law, literature, science and philosophy. One day he said to me: ‘You Mormons are all ignoramuses. You don’t even know the strength of your own position. It is so strong that there is only one other tenable in the whole Christian world, and that is the position of the Catholic Church. The issue is between Catholicism and Mormonism. If we are right, you are wrong; if you are right, we are wrong; and that’s all there is to it. The Protestants haven’t a leg to stand on. For, if we are wrong, they are wrong with us, since they were a part of us and went out from us; while if we are right, they are apostates whom we cut off long ago. If we have the apostolic succession from St. Peter, as we claim, there is no need of Joseph Smith and Mormonism; but if we have not that succession, then such a man as Joseph Smith was necessary, and Mormonism’s attitude is the only consistent one. It is either the perpetuation of the gospel from ancient times, or the restoration of the gospel in latter days.’” (LeGrand Richards, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder [Deseret Book Co., 1950], pp. 3–4.)

Brayden watched the deacons pass the sacrament up and down the aisles.
How am I going to do that? he wondered. January was only a few weeks away, and then he’d be a deacon. But he couldn’t carry a tray and use his walker at the same time.
After sacrament meeting, Mom helped move Brayden into his transport chair. Then she pushed him to Primary. All through class, Brayden kept wondering about how he’d pass the sacrament.
“Hey, Brayden, can you talk for a minute?” Brother Larsen and Mom were waiting in the hall after Primary.
“Sure!” Brayden said. He loved hanging out with the Larsens, especially their son Josh. Josh was a good friend, almost like a big brother, really. And Brother Larsen was kind of like a dad to Brayden. A really cool dad! He was also one of the advisers in Young Men.
Mom pushed Brayden into an empty classroom.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Brother Larsen said. “You’re going to be a deacon soon.”
“Yep.”
“And that means passing the sacrament.”
Brayden nodded. “Yeah.” But how? he wondered again.
“Josh and I had an idea. He and the other young men would like to take turns pushing you in your transport chair. That way you can carry a tray. What do you think?”
Brayden smiled. “I think it sounds great.”
The next couple of weeks went by in a flash. He had a New Year’s Eve party that was a ton of fun—a superhero movie night followed by board games. And the book on robotics that Mom gave him for Christmas was awesome. Just the thing to get him ready for the robotics team at school!
Then before he knew it, it was his first Sunday as a deacon. His sister, Rylie, pushed Brayden next to the other deacons before she went to sit by Mom in the chapel.
“Hey, Brayden, you ready?” Josh said quietly as he sat near Brayden.
“I think so,” Brayden said. His assignment was for the rows on the left. That sounded easy enough. But his stomach still felt twisty.
“Good morning, brothers and sisters,” began the bishop.
The meeting felt normal but different at the same time. It had all the normal pieces. But his own part was brand new.
One of the older boys blessed the bread. After the congregation said, “Amen,” Josh handed Brayden the bread tray. The cool metal handle pressed against Brayden’s palm as he gripped it tight. Josh pushed Brayden slowly and reverently to the left side of the room.
Brayden handed the tray to Sister Wright. She smiled at him, ate a piece of the broken bread, and then passed the tray down her row.
I’m doing it, thought Brayden. I’m passing the sacrament!
“Thanks for helping me today,” Brayden said to Josh after church was over. Then he gave him a mischievous smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you next Friday night for video games!”
Brayden and Josh laughed. Brayden was glad he got to pass the sacrament. He knew what an important and sacred ordinance it was.
He was also glad to be part of such a great deacons quorum with friends who were willing to help him! He would be glad to help them too. Especially if anybody ever needed help building an awesome robot!