Gospel Story Finder

In 1940, Lily, was called to serve a stake mission. She and her companion knocked on doors, made appointments, and did their very best to teach the gospel. This was often difficult for Lily because Fred was inactive at the time and people would tell her to leave them alone and go teach her own father. One day in early April, Lily and her companion knocked on the door of a man with the hope of being able to teach him the gospel. He told the two young women that when Lily's father had quit smoking and returned to activity in the church, they could come back and he would listen to them. Lily went home in tears and reported the conversation to her father.

At some point in his life, Fred had taken up smoking. He rolled his own cigarettes and always carried the "makings" : a sack of Bull Durham tobacco and a packet of cigarette papers--in his front shirt pocket. On May 1st, Fred announced he had quit smoking and would go to the temple. On May 2nd or 3rd, Fred told Lily to get on her "wheel" [bicycle] and go to the bishop to get a temple recommend for him. Lily explained that she couldn't get a temple recommend for him; he had to be interviewed by the bishop. Fred insisted: and because Lily had been taught to obey her father and also because she knew it wouldn't work, she went to the bishop. To her surprise, the bishop signed a recommend, telling her that if Fred said he was worthy to go to the temple, he was worthy, and there wouldn't be any man more worthy of a recommend.

Of course, the stake president's signature was needed. Once again, Fred told Lily to get on her "wheel" and go get the stake president's signature. Once again she argued, but in the end obeyed her father, knowing that the stake president couldn't and wouldn't sign the recommend. However, Brother "B" , the stake president, took the recommend and signed it, telling Lily that if Fred said he was worthy to go to the temple, he was worthy. Lily was upset and angry and let Brother "B" know it. How, she asked, could he, a stake president, disregard church policy and sign a temple recommend for Fred without first interviewing him. Then the stake president told Lily a story. Several years previously when Brother "B" was running the flour mill, Fred had pulled his wagon and team into the flour mill behind a widow who was buying cracked wheat. Fred caught brother "B" with his thumb on the scale: which meant, of course, that the widow would pay for more cracked wheat than she received. Fred told Brother "B" that if he ever caught him doing that again, he would throw Brother "B" off the loading dock and stomp him. Brother "B" was a larger man than Fred, but he knew that Fred was capable of stomping him: and would. The stake president said it had been his habit for years to alter the weight; however, after Fred's warning, he never let his hand get anywhere near the scales. He told Lily that her father "was the most honest man he'd ever encountered in his entire life and if her father said he was ready to go to the temple, he was ready. All the stake president needed was Fred's word.

Six days later, on May 9th, Fred entered the Manti temple to be sealed to Jenny and their five youngest children. In his front shirt pocket, was a brand-new, unopened sack of Bull Durham tobacco. For the rest of his life, Fred carried that same sack of tobacco in his front pocket: unopened. He never talked about it and his children never questioned him, but my mother believed it was her father's way of reminding himself of the promises he made when he and his family were sealed for time and eternity in the temple. When Fred died, that sack of Bull Durham was still unopened.

There was a time when the gospel wasn’t a part of my life. I walked down many other paths only to find dead ends. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was trying to find truth. Earlier, I had peace and happiness that just wasn’t there anymore. I longed for hope again.
I went around like this for five years. My family, which once was close, became as distant as we’ve ever been. I lost some of my best friends from the Church, and I knew I needed to change. But I was scared—unbelievably scared. I tried many things, from counseling and week-long seminars to moving away and trying to start over. But nothing worked. My search for the peace I’d lost seemed hopeless.
I remembered both praying with my family when I was younger and having personal prayers. I remembered the closeness I had with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Whenever I was confronted with a problem, I turned to Heavenly Father for help.
So that’s what I did again. I knelt and poured out my soul. I asked for help to guide me and pleaded for answers. I told the Lord of my trials and struggles and asked for help in finding the peace and happiness I was longing for.
It was through this and many other prayers that I learned for myself the love our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ have for me. The answer to my prayer was like a beam of light that shone through my darkness. I could finally see what I was searching for—hope. And through that hope came increased faith and a greater love for the gospel. It’s because of this that I am where I am today, serving a mission and spreading my love of the gospel to others.
I know Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are ready and willing to help us if we are ready and willing to ask. It is through this that I’ve gained my testimony, and it’s through this that my testimony continues to grow. I have found my peace and happiness.

I was the first member of my family to join the Church. As an eight-year-old, I waited to feel somehow different because of my baptism. To be honest, the only thing I felt when I was brought out of the water was … well, dripping wet. I thought something more profound would happen when I was confirmed. However, after receiving the Holy Ghost, again I felt happy but certainly no different than I had just a few minutes before.
It wasn’t until the following day at fast and testimony meeting that I experienced what I now recognize as the influence of the Holy Ghost. A brother stood to bear his testimony and tell about the blessings of his membership in the Church. I felt a flood of warmth sweep over me. Even as an eight-year-old, I recognized that this was something different. I felt a peace descend on me, and I had the distinct feeling that Heavenly Father was pleased with me.

Years ago, as a member of the Vienna Austria Stake high council, I attended a ward in Vienna once a month. Because I live 120 miles (190 km) from Vienna, I often rode the train to get there.
One Sunday, after I had returned home from visiting the ward, I discovered to my dismay that I did not have my wallet. I was worried because I didn’t know if I had lost my wallet or if it had been stolen. In my wallet I had a small amount of money, my temple recommend, a credit card, and other important cards.
The next day I had a hard time concentrating at work. Over and over again I asked myself, “When was the last time I used that wallet? Did I leave it anywhere?” I called the police, the train station, and the bishop of the ward I had attended. Nobody had found it. I prayed as well, and my prayers intensified as the day progressed. I slept poorly that night.
During my morning prayers the next day, I felt a strong spiritual impression to open my Book of Mormon in order to find the answer to my problem. I ignored the feeling instantly because no Book of Mormon scriptures had anything to do with my lost wallet.
The feeling pressed me: “Why do you doubt? Faith precedes the miracle! Just open the book. The first scripture you read will give you the answer to your problem.”
I discarded this feeling as wishful thinking. But the feeling in my heart fought a hard battle and won. I got up, went to my desk, and picked up my Book of Mormon. My heart beat rapidly in anticipation. I did not turn a page forward or backward. I simply opened the book and read Jacob 3:1: “Look unto God with firmness of mind, and pray unto him with exceeding faith, and he will console you in your afflictions, and he will plead your cause.” I was overcome and couldn’t read any further.
The Lord will plead my cause! I went to work relaxed and comforted. At 11:00 a.m. I received a call from the train station police informing me that my wallet had been turned in. One day later I received my wallet. Nothing had been taken.
The Lord had consoled me in my afflictions. He had pleaded my cause. Through the Book of Mormon my Heavenly Father had answered my prayers in a direct, personal way. I have always loved the Book of Mormon, and following this experience, it has become even more precious to me.

When I served as a bishop, a woman who had recently moved into our ward came to see me. She told me she had been involved in a very serious sin in her previous ward. She had sought to change her life and obtain the Lord’s forgiveness for a long time. In that meeting, and in every meeting I had with her, I could see in her countenance the pain and sorrow she felt for what she had done. As I worked with her and learned more of her faith and her diligence, the Lord made it very clear to me that He had forgiven her of her sins and changed her heart. She was clean and pure before Him. I called her in and told her what the Lord had told me. I will never forget what happened. She bowed her head and began to weep. After a few minutes, she raised her head. The transformation in her countenance was miraculous. I watched as the Spirit of the Lord descended upon her. Light streamed from her face. She was radiant.

The Twelve Days of Christmas Mystery in Tustin, California, was perplexing many of the townspeople. Ten widows in town opened their doors for 11 nights straight to find gifts left on their doorsteps—but the gift-givers had vanished.
Soon the widows were calling their friends to try to solve the mystery. Who was leaving all the goodies? But nobody knew anything about the presents, except that they kept coming. First it was a “partridge in a pear tree” attached to a can of pears. The next evening it was “two turtle doves” nestled in a braided wreath attached to a jar of jelly. Then “three French hens” made of calico, covering a can of chicken, arrived. And the presents kept coming.
On the 12th night the widows were greeted by the sweet sound of Christmas carols outside their windows—and the mystery was solved! The Young Women of the Tustin Third Ward, Orange California Stake, had been playing pixie for the widows with some delivery help from the Scouts in the ward. The girls presented the widows with final gifts of large poinsettias and handmade drums filled with homemade cookies, and left understanding the mystery of the Christmas spirit a little bit better.

When we “put on Christ,” it becomes possible either to resolve or to lay aside differences, disagreements, and disputes. A rather dramatic example of overcoming division is found in our Church history. Elder Brigham Henry Roberts (commonly known as B. H. Roberts), born in England in 1857, served as a member of the First Council of the Seventy—what we refer to today as the Presidency of the Seventy. Elder Roberts was an able and tireless defender of the restored gospel and of the Church in some of its most difficult times.

In 1895, however, Elder Roberts’s service in the Church was put in jeopardy by contention. B. H. had been appointed as a delegate to the convention that drafted a constitution for Utah when it became a state. Afterward, he decided to become a candidate for the United States Congress but did not notify or seek permission from the First Presidency. President Joseph F. Smith, a counselor in the First Presidency, censured B. H. for that failure in a general priesthood meeting. Elder Roberts lost the election and felt his defeat was due in large part to President Smith’s statements. He was critical of Church leaders in some political speeches and interviews. He withdrew from active Church service. In a lengthy meeting in the Salt Lake Temple with members of the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve, B. H. remained adamant in justifying himself. Later, “President [Wilford] Woodruff gave [Elder Roberts] three weeks to reconsider his position. If he remained unrepentant, they would release him from the Seventy.”

In a subsequent private meeting with Apostles Heber J. Grant and Francis Lyman, B. H. was initially unyielding, but love and the Holy Spirit ultimately prevailed. Tears came to his eyes. The two Apostles were able to respond to certain perceived slights and offenses that troubled B. H., and they left with a heartfelt plea for reconciliation. The next morning, after lengthy prayer, Elder Roberts sent a note to Elders Grant and Lyman that he was prepared to reunite with his brethren.

When he later met with the First Presidency, Elder Roberts said, “I went to the Lord and received light and instruction through His Spirit to submit to the authority of God.” Motivated by his love of God, B. H. Roberts remained a faithful and an able Church leader to the end of his life.

Long years ago, Elder Frank Croft was serving a mission in the state of Alabama. While preaching to the people, he was abducted by a vicious gang, to be whipped and lashed across his back. Elder Croft was ordered to remove his coat and shirt before he was tied to a tree. As he did so, a letter he had recently received from his mother fell to the ground. The vile leader of the gang picked up the letter. Elder Croft closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer. The attacker read the letter from Elder Croft’s mother. From a copy of that letter, I quote:
“My beloved son, … remember the words of the Savior when he said, … ‘Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my name’s sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad for you will have your reward in Heaven for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.’ Also remember the Savior upon the cross suffering from the sins of the world when He had uttered these immortal words, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ Surely, my boy, they who are mistreating you … know not what they do or they would not do it. Sometime, somewhere, they will understand and then they will regret their action and they will honor you for the glorious work you are doing. So be patient, my son, love those who mistreat you and say all manner of evil against you and the Lord will bless you and magnify you. … Remember also, my son, that day and night, your mother is praying for you.”
Elder Croft watched the hateful man as he studied the letter. He would read a line or two, then sit and ponder. He arose to approach his captive. The man said: “Feller, you must have a wonderful mother. You see, I once had one, too.” Then, addressing the mob, he said: “Men, after reading this Mormon’s mother’s letter, I just can’t go ahead with the job. Maybe we had better let him go.” Elder Croft was released without harm.

Young Latter-day Saints on the outer islands of French Polynesia wanted to hold a youth conference. But they faced some problems.
Challenge 1: Location. The islands are far apart, with no regular lines of communication or transportation between them.
Challenge 2: Law. The government requires any youth gathering to comply with approved standards, including supervision by a state-certified director.
Challenge 3: Food. Little edible food grows in the crushed coral soil of the atolls. The diet is based on fish, coconuts, and whatever is shipped from Tahiti.
Challenge 4: Water. There are no rivers or lakes. Rain provides the only source of drinking water.
Challenge 5: Lodging. There are no dormitories, barracks, or even hotels on the outer islands. Where would people stay?
Faced with so many obstacles, it might be tempting to give up. But the Saints here know that if they have faith, God helps them find answers. They continued planning their conference. And soon, solutions were found.
Solution 1: Stay close to home. Conference planners decided to hold several small conferences on a local level. This would allow youth groups to gather without lengthy travel or a lot of expense. The first conference was held on Takaroa, one of 77 islands in the Tuamotu Archipelago. Takaroa is a stronghold for the Church in the area—270 of its 396 inhabitants are Latter-day Saints.
Solution 2: Find a willing brother. Brother Stanley Brodien, Executive Secretary in the Paea Tahiti Stake, was the answer. A school psychologist, he spends summer vacations organizing youth gatherings, summer camps, and outings. He already had the proper government certification.
Solutions 3, 4, and 5: Use local resources. Takaroa had been blessed with an abundance of rain. Storage tanks were full and could supply needed water. Some food had to be brought along in coolers, but a baker from the nearby island of Manihi, Branch President Pitori Faura, would provide bread, and local members would help the youth catch fish and gather coconuts as needed. As for lodging, most of the youth could stay in homes with members. Some of the young men would bring tents and camp on the beach.
And now, the conference! Most of the 70 LDS youth from the three islands attending the Tuamotu North Youth Conference are involved either directly or indirectly in the pearl industry. The youth are highly skilled in tasks like skin diving and scuba diving, which are required for pearl cultivation.
But besides the pearl farms, the focal point of the island of Takaroa is the century-old LDS chapel, built from coral, with its hand-painted moldings, red tin roof, and bell tower stretching 90 feet above bedrock. It is larger and taller than any other building on the island, symbolic of the Church’s importance in the small community, and a perfect place for the youth to gather.
After their arrival, some aboard a fishing vessel, some by speed boat, the youth were divided into four groups, mixing age levels and participants from the islands of Takaroa, Manihi, and Takapoto. The youth chose Book of Mormon names for their groups: Ether, Nephi, Mormon, and a popular hero in these islands, Hagoth.
Cynthia Tufariua of Takaroa said, “At first I wasn’t excited about not being with my friends, but after the first day, I thought it was great to get to know kids from the other islands.”
Eric Hio of Manihi said, “I’ve never seen this many Mormons together in one spot.”
A shining example. But the shining moment of the conference came in the form of service. Except for one very rainy morning, several hours each day were spent cleaning different areas of the island—picking up trash, cutting weeds and bushes, removing rocks, hauling away garbage. During the conference, the youth cleaned beaches along the dock area and tidied up the village cemetery, the church grounds and building, and the local soccer field, which had become a garbage dump and an eyesore.
Mani Terooatea, a Laurel from Takaroa home on vacation from Japan, where she has been studying the technique of pearl grafting (placing tiny pieces of mussel shells inside oysters in order to cultivate pearls), said, “It was super to clean up the field, to see everyone working side by side. It didn’t take long, and I’m glad we could leave the place cleaner than we found it.” Mani brought along a nonmember friend, Hina Dexter, who developed a new appreciation for Mormons, as did several other non-LDS participants.
Start with scriptures. Each morning started with individual scripture study, followed by breakfast and a devotional, then the service projects, then sports and group activities, including island games such as “The Crab and the Coconut Trees,” “The Dog and the Thongs,” and “The Thief and the Pearl.” And to cool off after a hard day of work and play, a dip in the pristine lagoon waters among some of the most beautiful coral gardens in the world, myriads of brightly colored tropical fish, and curious but harmless reef sharks, provided a refreshing change of pace.
Besides morning scripture study and devotionals, two firesides and a home evening emphasized spiritual topics such as faith, standards, scripture study, goal setting, enduring to the end, striving for excellence, mission preparation, and seminary attendance. One speaker gave a brief history of the Church in French Polynesia, speaking of sacrifices made by early missionaries and members and challenging the youth to be willing to make similar sacrifices to share the gospel.
End with a testimony. As the conference closed, young people expressed gratitude for new bonds of friendship, strengthened testimonies, and their renewed desire to know and serve the Savior. One young man who had been only semi-active before expressed his newly gained desire to serve a mission: “I want to get my life in order so I can share with other people the testimony I felt growing during this conference. I want to spread the joy the gospel brings.”
Like a pearl. The youth conference taught islanders another thing as well. They saw that with patience, challenges can be turned into blessings. It reminded them of the black pearls they grow in their lagoons. A little bit of mussel shell is an irritant. But with time and care, the oyster transforms it into a thing of beauty.

Harold B. Lee once visited Tokyo, Japan, to speak at a conference for soldiers. After the meeting, a man came up to shake his hand.
Soldier: I am not a member of the Church, but I understand that you are going to be in the Philippines in a few weeks. I’ll be there with the U.S. Seventh Fleet, and I hope to be able to tell you then that I have been baptized.
Harold: I hope so, too!
Weeks went by, and Elder Lee traveled to the Philippines to give another fireside. He noticed that the man he had met in Tokyo was sitting on the front row.
Harold: I remember you! Have you been baptized?
Soldier: Yes. I can’t wait to go home and tell my wife that I will live righteously from now on. You see, when we met in Japan, my arm was hurting me terribly. After I shook your hand, the throbbing stopped. I took my arm out of the sling. When I went back to the ship, I didn’t need any treatment. The infection was gone. I know that you had the Lord’s power to heal me.
Years later, Elder Lee traveled to Virginia to organize a new stake. The man he had healed sat on the front row with his beautiful wife. That day the man was sustained to serve in his elders quorum presidency.
In a speech to Ricks College students, President Lee told this story and taught that God can heal us, both by taking away illness and by allowing us to repent.
President Lee: There is a power beyond the sight of man that heals not only sick bodies but sick souls. The greatest miracle we see is the healing of sick souls.

One approach is exemplified by a fellow we will call Eric. People tell Eric that he is very smart, and he prides himself on his ability to think through ideas and explain them to people.
Recently Eric has been studying about the different nations of the earth. One afternoon as he was watching a film in school about the eastern countries, he was deeply impressed with the number of people on the earth and how varied their lives are.
As he was thinking, he asked himself, does God really near everyone’s prayers? After pondering for awhile he could not conceive how one being could really listen to all those prayers at one time. “It is just impossible; he must have angels assigned to listen for him,” he reasoned. This answer was logical but somehow made him feel a little farther away from his Father in heaven.
Richard is a good example of another approach. Born in the Church, Richard was not active until he was well into his teens. At that time a series of challenging events provided him with the opposition necessary to turn him toward the gospel. After a few weeks of reading and prayer, Richard had developed a testimony of Christ and the truth of the Book of Mormon. People remembered Richard because of his testimony and commitment to it.
One evening Eric and Richard were talking about the Church. Eric said, “You know one thing that bugs me about the Church is that it demands so much blind obedience.”
“What do you mean?” asked Richard.
“Well, for example, the other day in class we were talking about prayer, and I mentioned how many people there are in the world and said that God can’t possibly hear all those prayers. He must have others do it for him. Old Brother Edwards just said I was wrong, and I asked how he knew. He just quoted a bunch of scriptures. Boy, what a cop-out—just blind faith.”
“That’s really interesting, but I disagree on the blind faith idea,” replied Richard. “I thought about that same question not long ago. The first thing I asked myself was, what has the Lord already told us about it? I read some passages in the Doctrine and Covenants (see D&C 88:62–63) and also found a great statement by President John Taylor:
“‘We are told in relation to these matters that the hairs of our heads are numbered; that even a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without our Heavenly Father’s notice; and predicated upon some of these principles are some things taught by Jesus, where He tells men to ask and they shall receive. What! The millions that live upon the earth? Yes, the millions of people, no matter how many there are. Can He hear and answer all? Can He attend to all these things? Yes.’ (Journal of Discourses, vol. 26, p. 31.)
“Since I already have a testimony of the scriptures and the living prophets, the next thing I wanted to know was what do I have to do in order to understand more about how God hears and answers prayers.
“I’ve been praying about it, and last fast Sunday afternoon I was reading Doctrine and Covenants 88 [D&C 88] about the light of Christ and how it is in all and through all things. Of course, I know our Father in heaven is a distinct personage, but this taught that his power, spirit, glory, and influence emanate throughout the universe and create a channel through which light and life are given to all that live. As I’ve been thinking about this, I think l’m starting to realize how our Father can be in personal contact with all his children. I’ve concluded that God hears all who pray, but for us to receive his answers, we must live the commandments and seek him. I don’t feel like that is blind faith.”
Richard’s conclusion meets a great test because it fits with what President Harold B. Lee said in a talk on revelation. He said that we are much like a radio receiver; if our tithing tube is broken, or our keep-morally-clean tube is not operating correctly, we will never receive the messages the Lord sends. Even worse, we could be on the wrong station, thinking we are receiving messages from the Lord when all the time they are coming from the wrong source.
There is an old Chinese proverb that says, in effect, it is not knowing all the answers that indicates a man’s wisdom, but in knowing how to ask the right questions.
What are the right questions and how does that relate to prayer? Prayer is communication between God and man. When we approach the Lord in prayer to seek knowledge and wisdom, our questions should be faithful questions.
Faithful questions seek to understand rather than judge. When Joseph Smith was searching, he read in James 1:5, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” Joseph also read (which we sometimes forget), “But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.” The scripture goes on to say of one who wavers and doubts, “… Let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.”
Richard knew how to ask questions; Eric did not. The difference? “But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering.” Eric asked a judgmental, challenging question not based on trust and faith in the things he had already received. “Let not that man think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord.”
Richard did not seek to judge but to understand. It is with faith and trust that we can learn to follow President Lee’s counsel to put periods after what the Lord has said, not question marks.
Faith in seeking brings knowledge, wisdom, and light.
I affirm that God does hear all our prayers; he loves us and seeks to communicate. We need to learn to ask the right questions and, in the things of God especially, seek to understand not to judge.

Image © Hemera/Thinkstock, iStock/Thinkstock
During my college days, I was one of a class of students appointed to fieldwork as a part of our prescribed courses in geology. …
A certain assignment had kept us in the field many days. … As the time allotted to the investigation drew near its close, we were overtaken by a violent windstorm, followed by a heavy snow—unseasonable and unexpected, but which, nevertheless, increased in intensity so that we were in danger of being snowbound in the hills. The storm reached its height while we were descending a long and steep mountainside several miles from the little railway station at which we had hoped to take [a] train that night for home. With great effort we reached the station late at night while the storm was yet raging. …
… The train for which we so expectantly and hopefully waited was the Owl Express—a fast night train connecting large cities. …
Long after midnight the train arrived in a terrific whirl of wind and snow. I lingered behind my companions as they hurriedly clambered aboard, for I was attracted by the engineer, who during the brief stop, while his assistant was attending to the water replenishment, bustled about the engine, oiling some parts, adjusting others, and generally overhauling the panting locomotive. I ventured to speak to him, busy though he was. I asked how he felt on such a night—wild, weird, and furious, when the powers of destruction seemed to be let loose, abroad and uncontrolled, when the storm was howling and when danger threatened from every side. …
His answer was a lesson not yet forgotten. In effect he said, though in jerky and disjointed sentences: “Look at the engine headlight. Doesn’t that light up the track for a hundred yards [90 m] or more? Well, all I try to do is to cover that hundred yards of lighted track. That I can see, and for that distance I know the roadbed is open and safe. … The light of the engine is always ahead of me!”
As he climbed to his place in the cab, I hastened to board the first passenger coach; and as I sank into the cushioned seat, in blissful enjoyment of the warmth and general comfort, offering strong contrast to the wildness of the night without, I thought deeply of the words of the grimy, oil-stained engineer. They were full of faith—the faith that accomplishes great things, the faith that gives courage and determination. …
We may not know what lies ahead of us in the future years, nor even in the days or hours immediately beyond. But for a few yards, or possibly only a few feet, the track is clear, our duty is plain, our course is illumined. For that short distance, for the next step, lighted by the inspiration of God, go on!

“My, but this boat is slow!” Sarah Thomas complained as the paddle steamer inched its way up the Mississippi River. She was sure the boat was standing still and that the trees were floating past! Even time seemed to stand still that warm day.
Sarah’s mind began to wander. She thought about the day in England a few years before, when a neighbor came knocking at their door. “There be a new preacher in town,” he announced. “Come and listen to him. Everyone’s meeting at the tithing barn.”
“I have a harness to mend,” her father answered without looking up. “It won’t mend itself.”
“His name is Heber Kimball, and he be from the Americas!” the neighbor added excitedly. “They say that he be a great preacher. He preaches about a new religion! The people of Preston really liked him.”
“Well, now,” Sarah’s father said thoughtfully. “An American preacher. I wonder if American preachers have a better tale to tell than British ones. Not a one that I’ve ever listened to preached the truth.” He stitched the leather absentmindedly. A new religion, he thought. I guess I’ll give him a chance.
As the neighbor hurried on his way to spread the word, the Thomas family prepared for the meeting. They didn’t have any other clothes to change into, but they washed themselves and brushed the clothes that they were wearing. Sarah brushed and rebraided her hair.
When they got to the busy town, some of their neighbors were hurrying to the tithing barn. Some of those who had already arrived at the meeting place were caring for their horses; others stood around talking and laughing. They were all eager for the American preacher to arrive.
The people of Chatburn liked to listen to preachers. But after the preachers moved on, it was as though the towns-people were still hungry for something that they didn’t have—the truth. No one in Chatburn had ever joined any of the churches that sent missionaries to their town.
When the American preacher walked into the town square, the people eagerly surrounded him. After they had crowded into the barn, there were so many of them that the preacher had to stand on top of a barrel to speak.
Sarah, who was used to hearing preachers, listened only halfheartedly when he began to talk. They all preach the same thing, she thought. But soon Elder Kimball’s message began to pierce her mind. He was preaching of a Savior who not only came to earth and was crucified but lived still. Elder Kimball bore such a powerful testimony of the living Savior that Sarah began to feel a warm glow, and she could tell that people around her were feeling the same thing. She strained to catch every word. Elder Kimball taught them that everyone must first have faith in Jesus Christ. Then they must repent and be baptized.
“This is it!” Sarah said to herself. “He speaks the truth!”
After the meeting, the people surged around Elder Kimball. Mrs. Partinton tugged on his sleeve. “Please, I want to be baptized!” Soon others were also asking to be baptized.
Sarah wanted desperately to add her own request for baptism, but she couldn’t be heard from the back. As she waited for her chance, the crowd flowed out the doors and down to the river. Following them, she watched as Elder Kimball baptized several people.
Her father found her in the crowd. “Come, Sarah,” he said. “It’s time to get the wee ones home.” Baby Josiah was asleep in her mother’s arms, and Timothy was crying softly as he leaned against her father. Sarah knew that she must obey, so she followed them. As they walked, she became very sleepy. It was a struggle to walk and to listen to her parents.
“I want to be baptized, Joshua,” her mother said softly. “He’s brought Christ’s true church to us.”
She heard her father chuckle softly. “Yes, he has.”
“What’s funny?” Mother asked.
“I was just thinking of all those other preachers who have come to Chatburn,” her father answered. “Not a one of us would join with them. They think that we are wild and hard-hearted. If they could only see us now! This one man has changed everything.”
“Father,” Sarah said sleepily, “I want to be baptized. May I?”
“Yes. Brother Kimball is leaving for Clitheroe tonight, but he’ll be back. We’ll be baptized when he comes again.”
The next few days were very long for Sarah. She did everything that she could think of to make the time go faster. One morning, when she was returning from taking a basket of scones to Mrs. Root, who was sick, she saw Elder Kimball on the path to town. She ran the rest of the way home to tell her family. In a short time, they were back in town, ready for a meeting. This time so many people had gathered that they met outside. Elder Kimball stood on a stone wall and preached to the people, and it was just as before. Sarah felt the Holy Ghost tell her that he spoke the truth.
Sarah and her parents were baptized that night. What a good feeling it was to know that they were all members of Christ’s true church. She felt clean and right.
Things changed in Chatburn after that. Parents began to teach their children what Elder Kimball had taught them. The children listened to their parents and obeyed Christ’s commandments. A new happiness and peace filled the village.
A few weeks later the man they now called Brother Kimball returned to their village. The children saw him on the path and, singing the songs of Zion, raced to meet him. They grabbed his arms and held on to his coat. Their parents stood in the doors of their homes as the group passed; they called out blessings on the man who had changed their lives.
What a wonderful time it was for Sarah! Brother Kimball continued to teach them. She learned more about the Prophet Joseph Smith, through whom the Lord restored the true church, and she felt a strong desire to see a living prophet.
Soon the word was spread throughout England: “The Saints are gathering in Nauvoo. Come to Nauvoo!”
“Nauvoo!” The cry jerked Sarah back to the present. The boat was rounding a curve, and now she could see people and buildings.
The Saints pressed eagerly against the rail of the boat as they searched for a glimpse of their new home. Sarah was searching, too, searching for someone very special. She wanted to see the Prophet. She had heard that sometimes he met new arrivals at the dock. Will I know him when I see him? she wondered.
As the boat neared the dock, she could distinguish faces. Her eyes stopped on a tall man who stood out above the rest. He had light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that had a twinkle in them. She knew without anyone telling her. He was the Prophet. Her wish had been answered. She was a member of Christ’s true church, and now she had seen His Prophet. Bless Brother Kimball!

An example from Church history is that of Reddick Newton Allred. He was one of the rescue party sent out by President Brigham Young (1801–77) to bring in the Willie and Martin handcart companies. At the Sweetwater River near South Pass, Captain George Grant asked Reddick Allred to remain there with a few men and wagons and be ready to help when the rescuers returned with the handcart pioneers.
The rescuers found the Willie company mired in the snow, freezing, starving, and dying. Some of the rescuers continued to search for the Martin company, while the others helped the Willie company make that heartrending pull up and over Rocky Ridge. Soon after they made camp, Reddick Allred and his men came to deliver essential assistance and supplies.
Allred then waited for Captain Grant to return with the Martin company. Week after week passed with no sign of them. As blizzards howled and the weather became life threatening, two of the men decided it was foolish to stay. They thought the Martin company had either wintered over somewhere or perished. They decided to return to the Salt Lake Valley and tried to persuade everyone else to do the same. Allred refused to budge. President Young had sent them out, and Captain Grant, Reddick Allred’s priesthood leader, had told him to wait there.
Those who returned took several wagons, filled with needed supplies, and started back to the Salt Lake Valley. Even more tragic, they turned back 77 wagons that were coming from the valley to help. Some of these wagons returned all the way to Big Mountain before messengers sent by President Young met them and turned them back around.
Finally, more than three weeks after Reddick Allred had assisted the Willie company, Captain Grant arrived with the Martin company. These pioneers were even more destitute and had suffered dozens of deaths. Captain Grant’s rescue team was small and low on provisions—and still more than 200 miles (320 km) from the Salt Lake Valley. Once again, because Reddick Allred had stayed true to his assignment, even in the most trying circumstances, he was able to provide life-sustaining assistance and supplies.

“Mom, I’m bored,” Mindy said.
Mom had just picked Mindy up from her piano lesson, and now they were at the stake center waiting for Mindy’s sisters to finish rehearsing for the stake musical.
Her older sister, Jessica, and younger sister, Krista, had both gotten parts in the play. But Mindy didn’t get a part. She envied her sisters a little, but she was also kind of glad she wouldn’t have to perform in front of the whole stake. That sounded scary.
“Well, why don’t you go find some other kids who aren’t practicing right now?” Mom said.
“OK,” Mindy said.
Mindy left the cultural hall and followed the sound of voices to a nearby classroom. Peeking in the door, she saw several kids she didn’t know.
“They must be from other wards in the stake,” Mindy thought.
She wanted to meet them, but she was too afraid to say hello. Instead, she walked back to the cultural hall and sat down by Mom.
“Didn’t you find the other kids?” Mom asked.
“I found them, but I don’t know any of them,” Mindy said.
“It’s not that hard to meet people,” Mom said. “When I was your age, I was really shy too, but then I decided I didn’t want to be shy anymore. I made a goal to meet one new person every day.”
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t really think I can not be shy,” Mindy said.
“If you just try, it will get easier,” Mom said. “You can start small with just one person. Look, a girl is sitting over there by herself. Why don’t you go say hello?”
Mindy tried to think of an excuse, but she knew she should take her mom’s suggestion. She said a quick prayer asking Heavenly Father to help her, took a few deep breaths, and walked over to the girl. “Meeting one person does seem a lot easier than approaching a whole group,” she thought.
“Hi,” Mindy said.
“Hi,” the girl replied. “My name is Shalee. What’s yours?”
“My name is Mindy.” There was a bit of silence, and then Mindy thought of a question to ask. “Are you in the play?”
“No,” Shalee said. “But that’s my dad up there practicing,” she said, pointing to the stage.
“My sisters are in the play too,” Mindy said.
Their conversation went on as they learned about each other. Pretty soon practice was over, and it was time to go home.
“Who is your new friend?” Mom asked on the way home.
“Her name is Shalee, and she’s 11 like me,” Mindy said. “She was really nice.”
“And it wasn’t scary?” Mom asked.
“Well, I was scared to talk to her at first, but I’m glad I did,” Mindy said. “Maybe meeting new people isn’t so hard after all.”

“I used to stay in the mountain, so my bishop told me I should come and stay with the missionary sisters in the missionary apartment. They used to give me transport to pay bike to come to chapel to take my MTC class,” explained Sister Combay of the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission.
Missionaries already serving in the field were a great help. Sister Combay said, “I did not know how to use computer, but they (sister missionaries) taught me, and I started using the computer. When we had class, I was the one putting on the computer. . . . So, before our instructor came to start class, I already knew how to put computer on and to go onto the system.”
Sister Combay stated that after she went into the field full-time, “I was missing the MTC because our instructors were so lovely. They were nice to us, and they also teach us the things we should know. Even sometimes they call us for interview, one by one. We talk to them, share our problem with them.”

In the early fall of 2000 my wife and I were prompted to pursue the adoption of a child from India. We already had two biological daughters and an adopted son, but we followed that prompting, and four and a half years later we were offered a three-month-old baby named Chetna, whose name means “awakening” or “bright intelligence.”

Chetna had a rough start in life, spending six of her first twelve weeks in the hospital. But she was a fighter and survived to three months of age, which qualified her to be placed for adoption. At the time of our matching she had no known major disabilities. Among the many papers and forms we had to fill out during the adoption process was a three- to four-page form listing the conditions we were willing to assume in our adopted child. The list ranged from “perfectly normal” to “very severe disabilities.” We had indicated “not accept” to all but a few of the mild disabilities. We were not Mother Teresa. We were approaching our forties and already had three kids. We weren’t looking for a challenge.

As we considered the possibility of adopting Chetna, we pored over the two-inch thick medical file we had been sent. We consulted with our pediatrician. We studied it out in our minds, we prayed, and we decided to adopt Chetna. Then we went to the Provo Temple seeking confirmation of our decision. It came clearly and peacefully: “Yes, this is your child.” We were overjoyed that we had found her at last. We called our social worker and told her our decision.

Four weeks later we were told that Chetna’s primary caregiver at the orphanage in Calcutta was concerned that she wasn’t responding to sound like she should. We were asked if her hearing could be tested again. We gave permission, and we received a call a few days later telling us that Chetna was profoundly deaf in her right ear and severely deaf in her left. Our social worker quickly assured us that we could reconsider our decision—that we hadn’t agreed to this. What she didn’t know was that since we had listed our answers on that form years earlier, we had changed. Among the many changes was that we had received a witness from the Holy Ghost in God’s temple. We knew that adopting Chetna was part of God’s personal plan for us. So without hesitation we told her, “There is no change in our decision. We accept this condition.”

Six weeks after that we learned that Chetna was blind. This time the news came by letter instead of by phone. In the letter we were again told that we could reconsider our decision. When my then twelve-year-old daughter Elizabeth read this line, she asked what it meant. When I explained it to her, she said, with some fervor and indignation, “Well, we aren’t going to do that!”

She was right. We wrote back and said, “There is no change in our decision. We accept this condition.”

Later that night, after the kids were in bed, my wife and I held hands across our kitchen table and, with some fear and trepidation in our hearts, wondered aloud how we were going to do this. A deaf and blind child? We felt overwhelmed, but we put our trust in the Lord and moved forward.

When I learned that Chetna was blind, I was afraid. Blindness touched upon a deep-seated personal fear of mine. Gratefully there wasn’t just fear in my heart—but there was also faith. I believed Christ had given sight to the blind in New Testament times, and I believed He could do so today.

I started to pray daily and fast weekly that Chetna would be given her sight. I did this for five months. At first these prayers and my fasting were grounded in my own fears of blindness. Gradually they progressed to being grounded in my inability to parent a child with blindness and then to a concern for her life condition. Finally they became firmly grounded in the acknowledgment that God’s will be done, regardless of the outcome.

There was a point between the third and fourth stages of my progression that I allowed doubt and anger into my life. Essentially, I let go of God’s hand. During this period my prayers weren’t prayers at all; they were demands couched in the trappings of prayer. I treated God like a short-order cook at a roadside café who had gotten my order wrong.

Finally, after three weeks of walking in the light of my own sparks instead of in God’s light (see Isaiah 50:11), I paused long enough for the Spirit to penetrate my mind with a ­single question: “Don’t you trust me to take care of Chetna until she is in your care, to provide for her what I know she needs?” That quiet question brought me up short, and I came to myself (see Luke 15:17). My response to the Spirit’s question moved me toward complete submission. It had taken nearly five months, but I was finally able to say with all my heart and without conditions or hidden reservations, “Thy will be done.”

Fast-forward eleven years, for I have neither the time nor the capacity to tell you a hundredth part of our journey with Chetna, of its summits and valleys; however, I can tell you that people are drawn to her light. God’s light and love shine through her eyes. She can see. It is a gift from God, who knew what we didn’t.

When we brought Chetna home from the orphanage in Calcutta, we didn’t know she wouldn’t be able to move her fingers, hands, and arms to sign as a way of communicating, that she wouldn’t be able to swallow sufficiently well to gain weight and thrive, that she wouldn’t walk or talk, and that the only muscle groups she would be able to control at will are those that control her smile. In short, we didn’t know that she would have quadriplegic cerebral palsy. We didn’t know any of these things. All of these conditions would be revealed to us over time. But God knew, and in His infinite kindness He gave Chetna her sight and her smile so that she might have one avenue of communication with her world.

Now, many might think that Chetna’s smile is the smile of someone mentally deficient, that she is unaware of her circumstances and therefore incapable of true and meaningful choice. They would be wrong. Chetna is whole in mind and soul. It is her body that is afflicted. She chooses her responses to her ­conditions and tribulation just as freely as you and I choose ours. Through her pattern of choices Chetna has become my greatest teacher of how to bear my burdens with greater grace and patience. She teaches me how to suffer long, to be kind, to bear all things, and to endure all things (see Moroni 7:45). Thus, when she smiles, the light she is carrying emanates from her soul. She reassures me that God is real and that all is well because we have His love.

It’s hard to imagine how Alexis Thompson’s life could be much busier. She juggles a demanding academic load with frequent duty babysitting her two-year-old sister. And she is a dedicated musician who belongs to her high school orchestra, jazz band, chamber orchestra, and barbershop chorus, as well as a local youth symphony. So where does she find time for Personal Progress? Alexis uses time every Sunday to plan out what goals she will work on for the week. She also takes advantage of summer vacation to focus on Personal Progress.

For one of her value projects, Alexis used a talent she already knew she had, singing in her ward choir. For another, she branched out, volunteering to help in a special-needs seminary class. “This has been an incredible experience,” says Alexis. “It’s amazing to see the love and the testimony of the kids in the class.” It’s an experience she might not have made time for without Personal Progress.

The rest of the week was a buzz of activity. I aced my biology test, and Jill Langston won the election by seven votes. I stayed up late for the election dance, and Saturday night I worked until midnight on my research paper. By Sunday morning it was all I could do to keep my eyes open in fast and testimony meeting. I was leaning my head on the bench in front of me when somebody started talking about Brother Davidson. People were always talking about my dad. The woman was explaining how Brother Davidson was an answer to her prayer when he had gone over and helped start their mower and cleaned …

Suddenly I straightened up. Sister Long was speaking. And crying. And she wasn’t even talking about Dad. Nobody had ever called me Brother Davidson. I was just Kyle, Frank Davidson’s kid. And as far as I knew, I had never been an answer to anyone’s prayer.

A few moments later Christy Hudson was at the pulpit, dabbing at her eyes and fighting back tears. “I felt so alone,” she explained, “like no one cared and there was no one to turn to. I was angry with the Lord, the bishop, and everyone else for leaving me stranded. Then Brother Kyle Davidson, my home teacher, showed up with his friend Joel. They were like two angels. Nothing has seemed quite so dark and dismal since Thursday evening. I couldn’t ask for a better home teacher.”

My hand went to my eyes and I felt the lump in my throat. Dad reached over and squeezed my shoulder, and I knew he understood what I was feeling.

Thirty minutes later as I was leaving the chapel, someone called my name. I turned to face Steve Wellman. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you, Kyle,” he said quietly. “Sounds like I have a lot to learn. Let’s go early this month. I’ll make the appointments. You just tell me when.”

I looked over at Dad, and for the first time in my life I understood why Dad got all choked up and hyper about home teaching. It was then that I discovered that my home teaching families were not the only ones who had received the home teaching bonus deal.

The alarm jangled while I groped through the darkness to shut it off. Even at that early hour, I jumped out of bed with anticipation. I was eager to join my friends on a hike up Timpanogos, a large, snowcapped mountain which overlooks Provo in Utah Valley.
The hike followed steep switchback trails, then a climb up a sloped snowfield near a sheer drop-off and a slide down a glacier. The reward was a well-earned picnic by the crystal waters of the tiny lake fed by the glacier’s runoff.
My mother got up early with me and graciously fixed breakfast, packed my lunch, and fussed around making sure I was properly prepared.
Eager to be off, I was a little impatient when she asked me to come back to the bedroom with her. I think I even rolled my eyes a little when she knelt by the bed and invited me to join her. At 14, that sort of thing can seem sort of sappy. But I truly did love my mother with that prickly heart of mine and was secretly pleased by her concern.
She gave a simple but beautiful prayer asking the Lord for my safety and protection that day. It touched that sometimes rebellious heart of mine. Embarrassed to show my feelings, I ducked my head and wiped at my eyes.
I hiked that day with a glow in my soul. I had been reminded what a special mother I had.
On our way back down the mountain, someone in our group decided it would be much faster to take shortcuts between the switchbacks, even though we had been warned not to do so at the beginning of the day. We all followed like sheep.
Midway between the trails, someone above me started a small rock slide. Pebbles and stones and a few larger rocks showered down around us. Then, as if in slow motion, I saw one fist-sized rock knock sharply against the shoulder of the boy just above me. The rock bounced around me, then catapulted to strike the girl in front of me right in the back of her head. A gash was opened and began bleeding profusely as head wounds do.
Slipping and sliding down to the next trail, my friend was helped by a fellow hiker who donated his handkerchief and first-aid skills. Careful now to abide by the hiking rules, we eventually made it down the mountain and home.
I’ve never forgotten that day my mother knelt with me, and I believe I was spared injury because of her prayer. Deep down I knew she loved me, but since becoming a teenager, I’d lost communication with her. I’d become independent, “prickly sensitive,” and sometimes difficult to get along with. I was finding it harder to feel my mother’s love. But on that clear morning a strong bond was forged between us by prayer. It made all the difference then and later to know my mother was praying for me.