Gospel Story Finder

“I Want to Come Back”
Not long ago I was in South Africa visiting a home with Thabiso, the first assistant in the priests quorum in the Kagiso Ward. Thabiso and his bishop, who presides and holds the keys for the quorum, had been praying for quorum members who were less active, seeking inspiration about whom to visit and how to help them. They felt prompted to visit the home of Tebello, and they invited me to go with them.
Once we made it past the ferocious guard dog, we found ourselves in the living room with Tebello, a calm-spirited young man who had stopped attending church because he had become busy doing other things on Sundays. …
… The words of Thabiso … made the difference in the visit. … “I enjoyed so much talking to you all the time at church,” he said. “You always have kind words for me. And you know, our soccer team has basically disappeared now that we don’t have you. You are so good at it.”
“I am sorry,” Tebello answered. “I will come back with you guys.”
“That will be awesome,” said Thabiso. “And do you remember how we used to prepare to serve as missionaries? Can we start doing that again?”
“Yes,” repeated Tebello, “I want to come back.”
Adrián Ochoa, second counselor in the Young Men general presidency

Germán always looks out for her. But Karina herself looks out for and takes special care of her two-year-old niece Ruth. She loves Ruth and lets her cling to her sweater sleeve when they are together. Karina walks slowly so that Ruth can keep up with her, and she tries to make sure that others notice and pay attention to Ruth.

The first year the party was held, only the Primary children and their parents were invited, but about halfway through that evening the young people realized they were leaving out almost half the children of the neighborhood. The next year everyone under 12 and their parents were invited. “This year we brought nine nonmember neighbors,” said Adrienne Brantzeg, a Laurel. Two of those were six-year-old Martin Seraphin and his mother who had recently moved with their family to Salt Lake City from New Jersey. “He’ll remember this until he’s 43,” Mrs Seraphin said of her son. “I can’t believe there are young people who would go to all this work just to serve the neighborhood children.”

It was my senior year at Greenwich (Connecticut) High School when I had the chance to take college recruiting trips. Deep in my heart I wanted to play for BYU, but when I made my official visit, Coach Edwards called me in and said, “Steve, we hear you’re a pretty good athlete, but we’re sorry, we don’t have a scholarship for you right now. If one opens up, we’ll let you know.”
Obviously, I was very disappointed when I went home.
But somehow a scholarship did open up. All summer I worked like a crazy man trying to get in shape for football. I ran miles and miles. My dad had an old ’65 Oldsmobile. It was a huge car—the kind that holds five people in one seat. And I used to push that around the neighborhood because I once saw Dick Butkus do it to get in shape. All it did was mess up my back, but I worked as hard as I could to be ready.
As I worked, I tried to figure out which quarterbacks would be in front of me. I thought there were about four ahead of me, and that wasn’t too bad for a freshman. But you never knew. Maybe the coach would really be impressed and make me third team. And then maybe he’d want me to get some playing experience and make me second string. And then, maybe he would think I was great and make me first team as a freshman. That was my frame of mind when I got to BYU that fall.
I remember the day I arrived at school. I went to the fieldhouse and looked at the depth chart, which everyone’s name by position and order. I saw all the names I figured I’d see in front of mine, but there were more. Not until I got to the end of the list did the name Young appear. Eighth-string quarterback—in parentheses. That’s like letting you be in the school choir but putting you off in another room to sing by yourself.
And the parentheses. What did that mean? Maybe waterboy? What?
I soon found out. In practices, I was to play the opposing team’s quarterback. Unfortunately, the defensive players never figured out that I wasn’t really the opposing team’s quarterback. They creamed me all week long.
I remember so many times when the opposing team, with me at quarterback, would run the dumbest plays. They’d have ten guys go one way so the quarterback would be left alone. Then their defense would smash me. I’d be at the bottom of the pile; my helmet would be turned sideways, and I’d be peering out through the ear hole, trying to see where I was.
After about five weeks of that, I became very discouraged. The coach didn’t even know my name. It seemed that nobody cared.
I called my dad and said, “I’ve had it with this whole thing. I’m not having fun; I’m not enjoying myself. I think I’m going to quit and come home.”
Luckily, because he truly cared for me, my dad said, “Son, you can quit, but you can’t come home. I don’t live with quitters.” So there it was. I kept on playing, no matter how discouraging it got.
One of my toughest tests came at the first home game. It was a crisp fall afternoon, the band was playing, the balloons were up, and there were people everywhere. There was excitement in the air, but not in my heart as I walked over to the stadium with that huge crowd. Eighth-string quarterbacks don’t suit up, so I was going to sit in the stands with the rest of the spectators. I was deeply disappointed and discouraged that I wasn’t playing. I wondered how in the world I would ever make it onto that field. It seemed almost impossible.
That very day, right there in the stadium, I decided I would do two things. First, I was going to be the first player on the field every day and the last one off. Second, I was going to give 100 percent to every play I ran, no matter how stupid it was. I was going to execute every play like it was the last one of my life.
Now I was asked to run a lot of dumb plays that season, and I got a lot of mud in my face. There were a lot of days when the varsity players thought I was crazy because I didn’t leave the field until after they did. It was embarrassing, but I hoped it would make a difference.
And it did make a difference. I don’t know exactly what happened. Maybe Coach Edwards glanced over during one of those dumb plays when I was working extra hard, and he said to the coach next to him, “Hey, who’s that scrub quarterback over there? Let’s check him out.” What matters is that I didn’t quit, things got better as the season went on, and I finally got the opportunities I had always hoped and worked for.
The key was learning to develop good habits and self-discipline so when the coach just happened to look, I was doing my best. When I was the eighth-string quarterback in parentheses, becoming the starting quarterback at BYU often seemed impossible. It was the little things I did every day, the habits I developed, that eventually put me on that field in front of 65,000 people. It’s the same way with the gospel and life. Our ultimate goal of returning to live with Heavenly Father may seem an unreachable goal at times, but the daily habits we develop in life are the ones that will help us get there. We need to develop habits of hard work, self-discipline, honesty, consideration, and finding ways to serve those around us. We need to develop the habits of scripture reading, meditation, and starting and ending each day with prayer—good, sincere communication between us and our Heavenly Father.

One summer I spent time in a foreign country working with children with special needs. When I first met the children, I was incredibly nervous. I did not speak their language, but I trusted that the Spirit would guide me in my interactions. As I got to know each child, I realized that language is not a barrier to love. I played, laughed, and did crafts with the children and could not help but feel complete love for them. I glimpsed the love that Heavenly Father has for His children, and the joy that filled my heart defied description.

It was the end of the assembly on Joseph Smith at our seminary, and our teachers had left the last 15 minutes for testimonies. I knew I had felt something during the program, and I realized I had to go up and bear my testimony even though I wasn’t sure if I had one.
I had recently turned 15, and I was questioning everything. I had prayed and read my scriptures, but the answer hadn’t yet come. I began to think Heavenly Father had abandoned me. I didn’t know if it was right to bear a testimony I wasn’t sure I had.
But as soon as I got up there, peace came over me, and I realized that I did know. I knew Christ was my Savior, I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, and I knew Heavenly Father was there, listening. I began crying for joy. Heavenly Father hadn’t abandoned me, and He had answered my prayer through my own testimony.
I know that if I live the gospel and do my best, then I will never lose that glorious feeling of knowing what I’m doing is right.

I’m sure I’ve used a snooze button before, though I couldn’t tell you exactly when. I mean, I know how the thing works and what it does. Surely I must have tried this out before. It’s just that I can’t remember it, because I never use the snooze button.
A while back, the fact of my anti–snooze-button lifestyle somehow crept into my conscious mind. It made me think. When did this start? Probably around the time I got my first alarm clock. But why?
On the one hand, my young self probably saw the snooze button as illogical (if you need to get up at a certain time, set your alarm for that time and get up—simple). But more than that, I suppose I must have unconsciously seen my morning routine as a reflection of the kind of person I am or want to be.
Now, I’m not advocating that everyone stop using snooze buttons. If you choose to snooze, that’s fine. The point is that I made a personal decision once—and only once—and it has stuck with me throughout my life. And whether we know it or not, such one-time decision making is something we all do, especially when we’re young, and it can have a powerful effect on our character.

We would like to express our sincere gratitude for the full-time missionaries serving in our branch. During the past two years our town has been blessed by these elders and sisters. They have left behind their warm homes, loving families, and close friends to save souls from the evils of the world.
We are grateful for English lessons, because there are not enough English teachers in our schools and colleges. We can also add kind words about the missionaries’ service to the old and the sick in homes and hospitals. The most important characteristic, though, is their deep and strong faith in Jesus Christ.
We wish to thank their mothers and fathers for raising such good, devoted young people. We are grateful for their honesty and hard work, for their interest and care, for their tender hearts and skillful hands, and for their love of all people.Members of the Surgut Branch,Russia Yekaterinburg Mission

A temple dedication committee came up with two ideas—a poster and a rug—that would help the children feel that this was their temple. Primary children were given posters with a beautiful picture of the San Diego Temple. Underneath the picture, the children wrote down their goals in preparing for the dedication. Angela Pedroza, who lives in Ensenada, Mexico, was excited to write down her goals: saying her daily prayers, beginning to read the Book of Mormon, respecting her parents, and taking friends to see the temple. Writing these goals on the poster helped Angela as well as many other children remember the importance of the temple and what they could do to prepare to go to the Lord’s house.

One of the more difficult hardships endured by many of the sisters was delivering their babies under harsh, extreme conditions along the trail. Eliza R. Snow wrote that as the pioneers “journeyed onward, mothers gave birth to offspring under almost every variety of circumstances imaginable, except those to which they had been accustomed; some in tents, others in wagons—in rainstorms and in snowstorms.” Sister Snow went on to record in her journal that she “heard of one birth which occurred under the rude shelter of a hut, the sides of which were formed of blankets fastened to poles stuck in the ground, with a bark roof through which the rain was dripping. Kind sisters stood holding dishes to catch the water … , thus protecting the [little one] and its mother from a showerbath [on its entrance to] the stage of human life.”

Imagine that you’re expecting an incredibly important phone call. Pretend, for example, that you’ve applied to a dozen colleges and your top choice wanted to call you on Thursday night to let you know whether you were accepted. But there’s a slight catch: they have a long list of people to call and will have to automatically reject you if you aren’t available to talk through the details.

If college is too far down the road to imagine, picture instead something else that you’d be waiting for impatiently. Maybe somebody is calling to let you know whether you’ve been accepted on a sports team, dance class, or the school musical—whatever would be truly important to you.

Now, here’s the question: would you stay close to your phone for that expected call?

Chances are, if it were important enough to you, you wouldn’t want to be out of earshot of that phone! You wouldn’t want to miss the call.

Back to that important phone call. If you knew such a call were coming, you most likely wouldn’t stray from your phone unless it were absolutely necessary. With general conference, then, does it make sense to skip a session or two because you’d rather do other things for part of the weekend? What if you decided to go hiking Saturday morning—missing “only” that first session—but it happened to be the exact session you most needed to hear?

After all, you never know when the phone is going to ring.

My call to the Eastern States Mission was another golden nugget. My family had little money, and I was never quite part of the “in-crowd” at school. But in the mission field, I realized that it didn’t matter what side of town I came from or what my father’s income was. We were all servants of the Lord and equal. I learned that through the principles of hard work, prayer, and seeking to follow the Spirit of the Lord, everyone could succeed.

Our boat couldn’t land because the harbor was frozen! I led our group in prayer asking God for help. The ice broke long enough for our boat to pass through.

Tyler worked hard on his lessons for most of the afternoon. Afterward, he and Mom sat on the floor, talking.
“Mom, I need to earn forty cents so I can get my CTR ring next Sunday,” Tyler said. “Do you have any ideas on what I can do?”
“I tell you what Tyler, if you help me with the laundry and the dishes this week, I’ll pay you the forty cents you need. Deal?”
“Deal!” Tyler said, crawling to the kitchen.

Aaron told me a secret. He said that Mom’s going to have a baby. Big brothers are the best. I’m glad Mom’s having a baby. Now I can be a big brother too!

Anthony was surprised when he woke up. This was his third time having the same dream! In his dream, a tall man had shown him a beautiful building. What could it possibly mean?
As a schoolteacher, Anthony had visited many places outside his village in Nigeria. The building from his dream didn’t look like anything he had seen before. Maybe it didn’t actually exist. But there was just something special about it.
As years passed, Anthony still thought about his dream, but he was worried about other things. A war started in Nigeria. It wasn’t safe for Anthony and his wife and children to leave their house. But it was hard being inside all day. Anthony missed seeing his friends and students.
One day Anthony found an old magazine in his house. When he opened it, he saw something that looked familiar. It was the beautiful building from his dream! It was real.
The building belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’ve never heard of that church before, Anthony thought. He wanted to learn more about it, but because of the war, he still couldn’t leave his house. He would have to wait.
When the war finally ended, Anthony sent a letter to the Church’s headquarters in Salt Lake City. He asked if they would send missionaries to teach him and his family. “Can you build your church in my town?” Anthony wrote. “Please send me scriptures so I can teach the other villagers.”
Anthony was sad when he received a letter from Church headquarters: “Right now we don’t have any missionaries in your country.” Back then, most black men couldn’t hold the priesthood. And the Church wasn’t organized in much of Africa.
But Anthony was good at waiting on the Lord’s timing. Even though he couldn’t get baptized yet, he kept his faith strong.
The Church sent Anthony and his family the Book of Mormon and other Church books. Anthony studied the books and taught what he learned to the other villagers.
So many people were interested in the gospel that Anthony wanted a place for everyone to meet.
On a road lined with banana trees, Anthony built a little chapel with a blue door and shutters. The front of the building read, “Nigerian Latter-Day Saints.”
Years went by. Then one day Anthony heard wonderful news. God told the prophet that all worthy men could have the priesthood. The Church was sending missionaries to Anthony’s village!
The missionaries were surprised to find a church building and so many people ready to be baptized. They were amazed at the faith of Anthony and the other villagers.
“It has been a long, difficult wait,” Anthony told the missionaries, “but that doesn’t matter now. You have come at last.”
Anthony was the first person baptized in the Ekeonumiri River in Nigeria. When the new branch was organized, he was called to be the branch president. His wife, Fidelia, was the Relief Society president. They were sealed together in the temple years later.
Anthony continued sharing his faith with others. He often told people that the seed of the gospel planted in Nigeria would grow into a great tree. The world would be surprised by its growth.
Anthony was right. Today there are more than 170,000 members of the Church in Nigeria—and a beautiful temple! The gospel seed Anthony helped plant continues to grow around the world today.

Daniel Harbuck and Miguel Peña, both 18, interviewed Ferron Forsgren. They were impressed that he could once type 100 words a minute, wore racing goggles when he drove his first car, and had some good advice about impressing young women. Brother Forsgren also told them how he gained his testimony of the Church and how he has been active all his life. They found out that Brother Forsgren still plays tennis at the age of 87. Daniel says, “That’s the kind of guy I want to be when I’m older.”

I read again the other day something of the story of a woman who died years ago, but the effect of whose work is being felt increasingly over the earth.

Rachel Carson published her book Silent Spring in October of 1962, only twenty-seven years ago. It alerted the nation and the world to the hazards of toxic chemicals. She was criticized and denounced for what she wrote. But people read and began to realize the dangers that were being created around them. Nearly two million copies of that book were sold and read. A public awareness was created. Legislation was passed. Remarkable things have happened in the cleaning up of air and water. Some may feel the regulation has gone to the extreme, as it does in cases. But who can doubt that we and the generations who follow will be the better protected because of the efforts of this woman, trained in her field and bold in her declaration, whose book changed the attitude of millions upon millions in all parts of the globe?

“I loved all sports, but baseball was my favorite. Our coach used to pitch for the Chicago White Sox, and he taught me how to play baseball. But of more importance, he taught me a lot about attitude and sportsmanship.

President Abraham Lincoln was once criticized for his attitude toward his enemies. “Why do you try to make friends of them?” asked an associate. “You should try to destroy them.”

“Am I not destroying my enemies,” Lincoln gently replied, “when I make them my friends?”