Gospel Story Finder

It was the rainy season in the Philippines and had been raining all day. Rain often brought unwanted creatures into our house—usually spiders, rats, and such.
As my companion and I arrived home after a day of proselyting, we noticed a light on at our neighbors’ house and we thought we would visit them. We decided to stop at our house and pick up some photographs of our families to show them.
We kept the pictures on the bottom shelf between our beds. As I reached for mine, I suddenly felt a pain in my right hand. Looking down, I saw that a snake had just bitten me.
I called to my companion, Elder Regis, and he ran to see what the problem was. I showed him the blood on my hand and said I’d been bitten by a snake. A neighbor ran in because of the commotion and helped us look for the snake. We found it when it struck from under the bed at a board Elder Regis was holding. The neighbor cried out, “That’s a Philippine cobra!”
Elder Regis killed the snake. I realized I was getting dizzy, so we rushed to Bishop Rotor’s house because he had some experience treating snakebites. He hurriedly began to do what he could to help me.
My chest was becoming heavy, and it was hard to breathe. A darkness seemed to cloud my thoughts, and I began to lose consciousness. Then I heard a voice say, “If you want to finish your mission on earth, you need a blessing.”
I stayed conscious long enough to say, “Will you give me a blessing?”
The bishop answered, “Yes, just let me finish this first.” It was hard for me to stay alert, but I heard the voice persist, “You need a blessing now. You cannot wait.” This time I said in a commanding voice, “Give me a blessing!”
I don’t remember the words of the blessing my companion and Bishop Rotor gave me. But I put all my trust in the Lord and His priesthood. During the prayer I began to come to my senses, and I vomited repeatedly. As I heard the final words of the blessing, the vomiting stopped. I was aware of my surroundings and felt a warm feeling of comfort and love fill my body. I knew that my Father in Heaven loved me and I would be OK.
My zone leader, Elder Howarth, brought to the bishop’s home a doctor who was investigating the Church. By this time about two hours had passed. We left for a hospital located about an hour away from where I was serving.
On the way the doctor asked me to tell him what had happened. Elder Howarth said, “Doctor, shouldn’t we speed up?” The doctor’s answer was, “Why? He should already be dead. He is a lucky man.” The Philippine cobra is the deadliest snake in the Philippines.
If people say God is not a God of miracles anymore, they don’t understand this gospel or His love for us, His children. I know my life was spared and I suffered no lasting effects because of the power of God’s word: “And by the power of his word did they cause prisons to tumble to the earth,” wrote Moroni, “yea, even the fiery furnace could not harm them, neither wild beasts nor poisonous serpents, because of the power of his word” (Morm. 8:24).

In closing, may I share a recent experience. A short time ago I got a call from Elder Holland indicating that he had just received an assignment to accompany a friend of the First Presidency on a visit to BYU. The individual in question is a well-known leader in Asia and heads one of the largest Muslim groups in the world—a group totaling 40 million members. The leader had learned about BYU’s first translation of an Islamic work: The Incoherence of the Philosophers by Al-Ghazali. During the visit he indicated that the book had a profound influence on him as a young man. He was pleased with the translation, but even more important he appreciated the efforts of Professor Daniel Peterson and the scholars working with him to produce a series of Islamic classics in a Western language. He clearly understood the potential cultural bridge that is being built between two worlds—Islam and the West.

Accompanying the leader was a visiting professor at Harvard and a prominent Asian businessman. Following a luncheon and a campus tour, both expressed surprise at the beauty, size, and cleanliness of the campus. They were not aware that BYU is the largest private university in the United States, that students come from each state in the Union and from more than 100 foreign countries. They were amazed to learn that more than 60 languages are taught on campus and more than 80 are spoken. Discussions were held regarding the possibility of further visits, student exchanges, and the recruiting of BYU students for employment.

As the visitors left, I thought how important BYU is as a window on the Church. The glass is not dark but clear and allows viewers to see the values and truths of the restored gospel. Through this window nonmembers feel the importance of education to Church members. They see the youth of the Church, note their strength, and observe the peace within them. The veil that separates is thin when they meet with faculty, discern their cultural sensitivities, and sense the quality of their work and thought.

Almost 50 years ago I knew a boy, even a priest, who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. This boy, Robert, stuttered and stammered, void of control. Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, he had an impediment of speech which was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through a set of unusual circumstances, he accepted an assignment to perform the priestly responsibility to baptize another.

I sat next to him in the baptistry of the sacred Tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked Robert how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost incoherently that he felt terrible.

We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Then the clerk read the words: “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.” Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand, and helped her into the water which cleanses human lives and provides a spiritual rebirth. He then gazed as though toward heaven and, with his right arm to the square, repeated the words “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”18 Not once did he stammer. Not once did he stutter. Not once did he falter. A modern miracle had been witnessed.

In the dressing room, as I congratulated Robert, I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.

I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.

NARRATOR: When inspiring words unite with noble and stirring music, art is raised to worship. There is perhaps no better blending of artistic talent in LDS hymns than in those created by Eliza R. Snow and George Careless. Five times the products of their combined pens appear in our hymnbook. Of these, none excels the hymn “Though Deepening Trials.”
Written in 1838 or 39 when the Saints were being driven from their homes in Missouri, the poem offers strength, encouragement, and hope. Having experienced persecution, first in Kirtland and then Missouri, Eliza R. Snow understood the need for comfort, assurance, and hope for better times. From the depths of anguish and despair rose the lofty expression of hope and courage:
“Press on, press on, ye Saints …
The time at longest is not long …
Though tribulations rage abroad,
Christ says, ‘In me ye shall have peace.’”
Just as these noble thoughts found life in the midst of despair, so too did the music. George Careless had endured a long illness that had gradually sapped his physical as well as his spiritual strength.
In a mood of great despondency, he went first to the scriptures and then to his beloved hymnbook in an attempt to find some comfort and hope. As he read through the familiar words of the hymns he knew so well, he came at length to one of Eliza R. Snow’s that she called “Be Not Discouraged.” As he read through the words, they inspired him to write the music that has made this hymn one of our most popular. His spirits rose, his despair left, and when he was once again well, he called on his good friend, Horace K. Whitney, to suggest a title for it. Brother Whitney gave it the name, “Reliance.” (See Pyper, p. 140; Cornwall, p. 278.)
SONG: “Though Deepening Trials.” (Hymns, p. 285.)

Lunch period was the worst. Polly and I ate at different times, so we had to eat alone. It was also embarrassing to have to bring a sack lunch. Every day I sat by myself, reading a book so I didn’t have to look up.

One day a girl from one of the tough groups sauntered over on a dare from her friends. Her heavily made-up eyes jeered at me.

“Whatcha readin’?” she said.

I could hear the laughter of her friends. My heart pounded. Maybe if I kept reading she would just leave.

“Is it good?” she tried again, turning to look at her friends. Loud laughter. I kept reading.

“Man, are you dumb,” she said as she walked away.

I was too embarrassed to mention the incident to my parents. I don’t think they ever realized I had no friends at school. I don’t know if it was just the clothes we wore or that we didn’t know exactly what to say or do to be like everyone else, but we never did feel like we fit in.

I wrote in my journal, “I don’t know what to wear. White socks and shoes are out in the winter, and I have the wrong kind of coat and boots. Styles are so different here!”

Church and home were the only two places where I felt accepted. The kids at church didn’t seem to care about my eerie eyewear or my outdated clothing. I loved activity nights. An industrious seamstress, I modeled several of my creations in an MIA fashion show. Another time I participated in an impromptu speech contest and did terribly, but no one seemed to mind. Virginia Webb became a good friend, but she attended a different junior high.

I began to live for weekends and the hours after school spent playing with my brothers and sisters. In Hawaii we had had scores of friends and rarely played together. But here my brothers and sisters became my closest friends. They were there when that long-awaited snow finally fell. We frolicked in it like kittens in catnip. We held our mouths open as it fell. Each flake was a miracle, every snowball another excuse to giggle.

Eventually it dawned on us that we were the biggest kids on the sledding hill across from our home. In Michigan sledding was only for kids. But Alan didn’t care. At age 16, he was six feet, five inches tall, and he loved sledding. Every day after school, he went sledding alongside the grade schoolers. They gawked at him, but since he was so much bigger, no one ever said a word.

The rest of us, still trying to fit in, bought used ice skates. I’d been a good roller skater in Hawaii and ice skating came easy. With all the ponds and lakes in Michigan, we never had to settle for endless circling in a stale old rink. I loved the exhilaration of skating hard and fast across a frozen lake.

In the middle of the winter, a package arrived from my Grandmother Marsh in Los Angeles. I caught my breath when Polly and I tore off the brown wrapping. Inside were two outfits, breathtakingly in style. Mine had a pink flowered top with knee socks to match. Polly’s was identical, except that it was blue. This was our big chance to show the kids at Forsythe Junior High that we weren’t such misfits after all. Boy, would they be surprised!

I was a little nervous about the color because this was no ordinary pink. It was a sizzling, shocking pink. But the outfit was so definitely “in” that I squelched my fear. I slowly hung my oversized plaid coat in my locker and wondered what the kids would think of me appearing in such style.

A sea of eyes followed my dazzling pink presence from my locker to my homeroom. Then the whispering began—but not whispers of envy or admiration, as I had secretly hoped.

“Look what she’s wearing.”

“Didn’t we already have Halloween?”

All day the laughter continued. Resentment and frustration built within me. If only I had a friend to walk with, it would be so much easier. If only somebody who knew what was acceptable would give me some hints. Repeatedly I had tried to fit in and failed. And now even Grandma’s outfit had betrayed me. After that I stopped trying to live by other people’s standards. I warned Polly, and she never even wore her new clothes.

I wish I could say that there was some magic turning point, that we discovered a key that made us popular, that we found friends at our school, and that we became leaders and trendsetters ourselves. Of course we didn’t. In a year the sabbatical was over, and we returned to Hawaii, our scores of friends, our waves and mountain fruit, our mild weather and perpetually green foliage. Never was I happier than when we returned to our beloved island.

And yet now, 20 years later, when I think of Michigan, I smile. With fondness I recall Alan running barefoot in the snow. I grin at the memory of Philip and me raking autumn leaves. My heart soars when I remember skimming across a frozen lake with Polly or strolling through the farmer’s market with my father. Tears come to my eyes when I think about the whole family piling into our cream-colored station wagon, off for a picnic in Kalamazoo.

It isn’t easy to move when you’re in junior high school. It’s even tougher when you’re poor and you’re exchanging a provincial paradise for a bustling college town. There were times when I was sure I would never make it.

But now, given some time and distance, I know what the secret was. I leaned on my family. And because of them I survived.

Late in the year a combination of dry weather and high winds fueled wildfires in Southern California. These wildfires forced over 1 million people from their homes. At least 1,500 homes were destroyed. In response the Church provided cleaning kits, blankets, hygiene kits, and food. Over 5,000 Mormon Helping Hands along with missionaries cleaned, cooked, comforted, and cared for those affected.

One note of appreciation said: “Please forward a great big thank you to all the Latter-day Saints who have been working so hard in my neighborhood. The Mormons have been here constantly with meals, hugs, prayers, and helping to repair and clear property. They … uplift my community, heal hearts, and repair homes in the San Diego hills.”

Reflecting on the experience, one stake president said: “One of our projects was to assist cleaning up around the local Baptist church. … We assigned 25 youth. … The Baptists said that they would have lots of donuts and coffee for us. We told them the coffee would go stale, but our youth could handle as many donuts as they could provide!”

Bro. Tew: Years ago we moved to Oklahoma so that I could attend graduate school. While there, a wonderful Relief Society sister showed care for us. Like most student families, money was tight, but twice a year we would get into our car to drive 1000 miles to see our family in Utah. As we got our car loaded up to go on our trips, she would bring over an ice chest full of food to last the journey. She was a second mother to us as we lived far from our own parents. We still feel close to her because of the small and simple acts she did for our family.

When Eli Herring was little, he would sometimes try to be sneaky and watch Sunday professional football on television. He didn’t know much about the game, but he knew he liked it. He liked it so much that each week when his class at school would go to the library, he would check out books about football players. He knew they were big and strong, he knew he wanted to be one, and he knew that they played most of their games on Sunday. And he wanted to watch some football.
One Sunday when he had the television on, he suddenly noticed his father looming in the doorway. Eli promptly forgot about the game. His father wasn’t angry, but he sure looked disappointed. Brother Herring simply said, “Turn it off,” and Eli did. He never watched football on Sunday again.

Soon I made friends at school and looked forward to seeing them each day. One friend, Larry Dawson, lived about a mile from my home. Larry invited me to his house for a birthday party. I had never been to a birthday party before. It was so much fun! I still remember some of the special toys Larry received—especially his new toy fire engine.
Larry and I rode the bus to school because we lived too far from school to walk. Larry got off the bus at the bus stop on the main highway just before I got off. He then had to cross the highway and walk half a mile (about 1 km) to his home. At that time cars did not stop when a school bus was loading or unloading students.
One day as we were returning home from school, a car speeding by the bus hit and killed my friend. I felt very sad. I missed being with Larry at school and on the bus. My mother and father comforted me by explaining that even though I wouldn’t see Larry anymore in this life, his spirit continued to live in the spirit world. Larry was so kind and good that I knew he would be worthy to live with our Heavenly Father. As I grew, I learned more about our Father’s plan for His children.

When President Spencer W. Kimball was 15 years old, he attended stake conference and heard a speaker ask everyone who had read the entire Bible to raise their hands. I heard President Kimball say, “I cared not what others were thinking. I knew that I had not read it and I was filled with shame.” After the meeting was over, he ran home as fast as he could, grabbed the Bible off the shelf, and climbed the stairs to the attic. His brothers teased him, saying, “Why try? You’ll never finish it.” But he did. Almost a year later he finished reading the Bible. The integrity he had as a 15-year-old boy was one of the things that made him a great prophet of God.

When my children were young, I gave them a priesthood blessing each year before school started. One year, my daughter was going through a hard time. I didn’t really understand what she was going through and felt frustrated.
Something happened when I put my hands on her head and began to give her a blessing. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, the Lord helped me see my daughter as a wonderful and magnificent daughter of God. My perspective completely changed. I wasn’t frustrated anymore.
Heavenly Father helped me see my daughter as special and unique. I know that you are amazing too! You are beautiful and filled with divine talents and abilities. You really are a child of heavenly parents. And I believe that is true of every single child on earth. You are special and divine.

Raquel “Liriel” Domiciano was about to sing in front of millions of people. Was she worried about messing up? A little. Was she worried about what to wear? Naturally. But what worried her most?

Only 19 at the time, Liriel, a member of the Church for five years, wanted to stand as a witness “of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).

Liriel was about to perform in Brazil’s largest televised talent competition, the Raul Gil Amateur Show. She had been told she couldn’t say anything about her religion. But she knew that many of Brazil’s Latter-day Saints would be watching, and she wanted everyone to know she wasn’t ashamed of the gospel. After praying in her room before her first performance, she looked up and saw her Young Women medallion. It was the answer she had been looking for.

Liriel wore her medallion during every level of the competition. Eventually she and her partner, tenor Rinaldo Viana, won the contest, signed a recording contract, and watched as their first CD became the second-highest best-seller in Brazil’s history, with more than one million copies sold.

Wearing the medallion as she performed was her way of letting people know she was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and willing to stand as a witness, even in front of millions.

I learned this more deeply during a difficult season of my life. Early in my service as a young stake president, as my wife, Busi, and I were raising our family, it felt as though one challenge followed another. We had just buried my mother. Two weeks later, we stood again at a graveside—this time with my counselor, mourning his teenage son. Work pressures felt overwhelming, and I began to wonder if I was measuring up—at home, at work, and before the Lord.
My prayers were best expressed in the Primary song: “Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer ev’ry child’s prayer?”
My answer came in an unexpected way.
One Sunday, while driving to a ward conference, I poured my heart out to the Lord. When I arrived at the meetinghouse, a bright-eyed Primary boy stopped me and said, “We need to talk.” With a very serious look on his face, he asked—almost in a scolding voice—“When are you going to stop being a naughty boy?” I knew I was in some kind of trouble. Before I could respond, he added, “Every morning and every night, my parents ask us to pray for you.”
I will never be able to fully describe what I felt as I stood there. I felt seen. I felt loved. I felt known. I felt that I was not alone. And as I looked into that child’s eyes, I felt the warmth of the Savior’s love.

The General Authority who married Brother and Sister Hunter gave them some advice they took very seriously: Stay out of debt; never buy anything until you have the money to pay for it. They followed that counsel, sticking with it throughout their married life and teaching it to their children.
That counsel proved to be extremely valuable when the bank where Howard was employed failed during the Great Depression of the early 1930s. Out of work, but also out of debt, Brother Hunter quickly found other employment.

Eric Blanchard, a two-time state wrestling champion from St. Anthony, Idaho, is back wrestling again after nearly losing his life in an accidental shooting incident. Although Eric came perilously close to death and the bullet still remains lodged in his back, he followed doctor’s instructions and worked hard to get back into shape. Doctors determined that it was too dangerous to remove the bullet but that it would not affect his recovery if left where it was.
Eric succeeded in his third season and was nearly as strong as ever. He barely lost in overtime in his attempt for his third state championship. Eric is a priest in the Chester Ward, Ashton Idaho Stake.

A little girl was critically ill. She needed a special kind of blood for a transfusion to save her life.
Her brother had the same type of blood. The doctors asked him if he would be willing to give his blood so his sister might live. Without hesitating, the young boy answered, “Sure!”
After the blood transfusion was completed, the brother turned to the doctor and asked softly, “Now, sir, when will I die?”
It took only a moment for the doctor to realize the young boy had thought that giving blood to his sister would kill him. But he was willing to die for her.

On yet another occasion we visited a home where two little girls were sent to meet us at the door by their alcoholic parents. The little girls said through the screen door that their mother and father were asleep. The bishop kept talking to them, smiling and praising their goodness and their bravery, for what seemed to me 10 minutes or more. As I walked away at his side, he said quietly, “That was a good visit. Those little girls will never forget that we came.”

I was afraid a lot.
I was afraid my dad would kill himself while driving drunk. I was afraid he’d kill someone else when he was driving drunk.
Late at night I would lie in my bed with all the lights out. I would wait and wait to hear his car pull in. I’d pray over and over, “Please help him get home safely. Please don’t let him hit anyone.”
In the morning I’d look at how the car was parked in the driveway. Sometimes it would be barely an inch from the house. Sometimes it would be over into the neighbor’s flowers.
I was afraid he’d embarrass me. He did. He’d wake up from sleeping off a drunk and not really be sober. He’d stumble out of the bedroom. He’d stink of beer. He’d say dumb things. I hated it.
My real friends still liked me. Still, it was embarrassing.
I was afraid my parents would get a divorce. Many times they would have fights when my dad drank. He had a black leather suitcase in his closet. He’d get it out and start packing his clothes. If it were daytime I’d run out of the house. One day I took my dad’s white pocketknife with me. I wanted to have something of his if he left.
Sometimes I was afraid my parents would not get a divorce. I was afraid they would keep living together and I would never have a home that was nice. I thought my mother and I could go live with my grandparents. It sounded so safe.
Fear
Your friend may worry that her dad will get into an accident while driving drunk.
She may be afraid her parents will divorce. Or she may be equally afraid this painful way of living will go on forever.
She fears that her dad may embarrass her with inappropriate behavior.
She’s afraid no one will like her because of her father’s actions.
Of these fears only the last one is within your control. Make very sure your friend knows that you love and respect her. Your friendship can help reduce the corrosive effects of all the other fears.
Fear
Your life is full of fears—fear of a drunken accident, fear of divorce, fear of humiliation—the list seems endless.
I wish I could give you an easy formula for banishing fear, but I can’t. For one thing, many of your fears are well grounded.
I can only give you two bits of advice. First, when you are afraid, pray. Our Father in Heaven knows your fears and can help you master them.
Second, let some trusted adult counselor help you distinguish between real dangers and imaginary ones. With so many real things to fear, there is no room for phantoms.

Receiving the mutual conviction to move forward enabled Brooke and me to fully unite in our decision to adopt. I don’t have time to cover the various twists and turns of the adoption process, but it involved multiple adoption agencies, several countries, frustrating bureaucracy, delayed background checks, and other challenges. Although we certainly didn’t recognize it at the time, with hindsight we realize that some of these obstacles actually played a direct role in leading us to our daughter. In the end, the very obstacles that were seemingly inhibiting our adoption progress were actually helping us find her. We simply had to stay faithful and allow the Lord to direct us.

As we settled on adopting from China through its nontraditional adoption channel, we received access to a website that listed potential adoptees. Each of these files contained basic medical and background information about each child—most of whom had been abandoned at or near birth due to China’s one-child policy and other factors at that time. The files also contained small pictures of each child.

Brooke started going through these files one by one. As you might imagine, this was an interesting process that generated many mixed emotions. But early in the process, Brooke saw this picture, and her mixed emotions were immediately replaced with an immense and intense feeling of connection and love! [A photo of a baby was shown.]

Brooke had received direction through the Holy Ghost that this little girl was the one. She then sent the photo and file to me, and I had a similar experience. We had found our daughter!

How blessed we feel to have been directed and strengthened through the enabling power of our Savior’s Atonement in finding her!

Melissa and Mary Grace Moore had invited a friend who lived near them. Their mothers were friends. Doug Silcock’s parents had once been active members of the Church but hadn’t attended meetings since he was a little boy. Now, after going to the seminary breakfast, he started asking questions, wanting to learn more. He met the missionaries, took the discussions, and was baptized. Now he too attends seminary every morning.

“He gets all of the credit,” Melissa says.

Nora Graham adds, “That’s how I feel. Doug was just ready and wanted the Church in his life. Now we pick him up for church every Sunday. Our class introduced him, but the conversion really had nothing to do with us.”