Gospel Story Finder

A highlight of Boys Nation for me was meeting then president Dwight D. Eisenhower in the Rose Garden of the White House. He was one of the most impressive men I have ever met. His deportment and bearing, his piercing blue eyes, and his commanding manner of address made an indelible impression on me. Senator Wallace F. Bennett of Utah hosted the two of us who were representing Utah. He was gracious and kind and devoted considerable time to us. He introduced us to then senators John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, as well as then vice president Richard M. Nixon, all of whom would be future presidents. The topic of civil rights was significant at that time. It was at Boys Nation that I was first introduced to the religious-based effort led by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to achieve equality.

My admiration for President Eisenhower grew when a few months later, on September 23, 1957, he ordered the National Guard to support integration and protect the nine African American students who were attempting to integrate into Little Rock Central High School. The president’s action was in support of the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954, Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, requiring integration of public schools.

A few days later, as Winnie and Atobora were going around looking for an apartment to rent because their scheduled marriage was nearing, they met a pastor of a church. While they talked about the rent, the pastor stopped mid-sentence, looked directly at Winnie, and in a state that was obvious to them that he was overcome by the Holy Spirit said something like “You were told to go see a certain man and when you saw him, he told you to bring this young man with you and he would have a conversation with both of you together. You have not done that yet. When you go to him, he will introduce you to a church and that church is the true church of God.”
Atobora then asked the pastor why he was not a member of that church knowing that it is the true Church of God. The pastor admitted that the true Church did not have a paid clergy and he needed the offerings from his congregation for his upkeep. As soon as they left that pastor, they went to Brother Johnson’s home. Over the course of three weeks, he taught them all six missionary discussions and they were ready for baptism.
In September of 1983, because of pressure from her family, Winnie cancelled her baptism date, but Atobora went ahead. The following Sunday, Atobora was ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood and the week after that, he baptized Winnie.
It has been more than 40 years since Winnie heard the familiar voice of the Holy Spirit who urged her to look for Brother Johnson and thereafter experience joy and rejoicing. Winnie and Atobora were blessed with four sons, two daughters, and nine grandchildren. All four sons served full-time missions. All six children have received their endowment in the house of the Lord. The fruits of the seed that was planted on that blessed day in 1983 keeps growing and spreading.
This is a legacy of love. It is a legacy that has blessed many of their ancestors and will bless generations to come.

At Christmas time Cynthia, Richard, Gerald, Mom, and Dad went to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. The children helped set up the stable like the one where Baby Jesus was born, sang Christmas carols, and opened presents.
A few days after Christmas Dad said, “It’s time to go home.”
Grandpa and Grandma looked sad.
“Mommy,” Cynthia said, “why are Grandma and Grandpa so sad?”
“Because they will miss us when we go home.”
Cynthia went to find Grandma, who was helping Gerald pack his clothes.
“Grandma,” Cynthia said, “will you be happy if I leave some of my toys? You can play with them till we come back.”
“Thank you, honey,” said Grandma, “I will miss you, not your toys.” She gave Cynthia a big hug.
Cynthia wondered how she could help Grandma and Grandpa be happy. Suddenly she remembered how happy Dad was when Mom put notes in his lunch sack. She ran and whispered to Gerald and Richard and gave them each some pieces of paper. Richard sat on the floor and wrote and wrote and wrote. Gerald drew pictures because he was too little to write.
“Mommy,” said Cynthia, “how do you spell love?”
“L-o-v-e,” Mom told her.
When Cynthia finished writing, she tiptoed into the living room. She hid one of her notes on Grandpa’s chair. She put another note in the piano bench. She even put two in Grandma’s slippers under the couch. Then she tiptoed quietly out.
Richard waited in the hall until Grandpa left the kitchen. Then he scurried in and put one note in the cracker box, one on top of the forks, and one in an apron pocket. He also put notes in the refrigerator and the pantry.
Meanwhile, Gerald was in Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom. He put all his picture-notes under their pillows for them to find when they went to bed.
Soon Dad and Mom were bundling them into their coats. “Kiss Grandma and Grandpa good-bye and get in the car!” said Dad.
Grandpa kept saying, “I’m going to miss all of you. I’m really going to miss you!” He looked like he was already missing them, and they hadn’t even gone yet!
Grandma kissed all the kids and Mom and Dad too. “Remember to write me,” she told them.
Cynthia, Richard, and Gerald started to giggle.
“What’s so funny?” asked Grandma.
“You’ll see,” Cynthia told her, grinning from ear to ear. “We left love notes for you all over the house.”

A dear friend of mine sent me an old article from the Nebraska Advertiser, a Midwestern United States newspaper, dated July 9, 1857. It read: “This morning early a company of Mormons passed through on their journey to Salt Lake. Women (not very delicate to be sure) dragging hand carts like beasts, one [woman] tumbled down in this black mud which caused a slight halt in the procession, little children trudged along in their [strange] foreign dress looking as determined as their mothers.”

I’ve thought a lot about this mud-drenched woman. Why was she pulling alone? Was she a single mother? What gave her the inner strength, the grit, the perseverance to make such a wrenching journey through mud, pulling all her possessions in a handcart to an unknown desert home—at times being mocked by observers?

President Joseph F. Smith spoke of the inner strength of these pioneer women, saying: “Could you turn one of these women away from their convictions in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Could you darken their minds as to the mission of the Prophet Joseph Smith? Could you blind them with reference to the divine mission of Jesus Christ, the Son of God? No, never in the world could you do it. Why? Because they knew it. God revealed it to them, and they understood it, and no power on earth could turn them from what they knew to be that truth.”

But as the excitement grew, the group’s harmony was invaded by discord. Newspapers and television spoke against the Church. Missionaries were physically abused. Rocks were thrown through the windows of the mission home and the mission office. One night the whole front of the mission office was painted with obscenities.
As the anti-Church sentiment grew, the manager of the Moscow Hotel began to worry about the possible consequences of allowing the Church to hold a Christmas program in her hotel. Less than 36 hours before the program was to begin, she notified the mission office that the members would not be able to use their reserved room after all.
Some of the members were devastated by the news, believing that the Christmas program would have to be canceled. President Warner was more trusting.
“Heavenly Father knows where we are and how much we need to have this program,” he said. “Let’s leave it in the Lord’s hands.”
The Lord heard their prayers. When the assistants to the mission president, Elder Trent Murray and Elder Hannon Ford, returned to the Moscow Hotel to get the mission’s money back, the manager explained why she was reluctant to allow them to use the reserved room on the main floor and led them to a room on the second floor.
“If you can promise that your people will come in the back door instead of the front door, go up the back stairs, and not use the lobby, you can use this other room,” she said, opening the door to a much larger ballroom. It was two and a half times larger than their reserved room, and it had a wonderful grand piano. It even had a Christmas tree and other holiday decorations.
On a cold Saturday afternoon in Sofia, missionaries met the members and investigators arriving for the program and directed them to the back door, where they entered the hotel inconspicuously. More than 400 guests crowded into the ballroom. Even the dour faces of the spotlight technicians, who were unhappy to be working on a holiday, could not spoil their festive spirit.
The 150 choir members sang beautifully, and the audience joined in for a sing-along. By the time a young couple placed their baby in the manger for the final scene, the room was filled with joy and music. Even the spotlight technicians were singing and clapping along with the others.
The Spirit was so strong that no one wanted to leave. But like every performance, the Christmas program had to conclude. The same child’s a capella solo that had opened the program—her “Silent Night”—ended it. As the audience and the participants returned home, echoes of their experience—their “Joy to the World”—reverberated in their hearts and warmed the chill in the Bulgarian air.

During filming, my brother Byron lay in a hospital bed in California, USA, while my newborn granddaughter lay in a hospital bed in Salt Lake City, Utah. Byron was dying of cancer, and my granddaughter, born with a serious birth defect, was not expected to live.
I had to miss the reunion because my daughter Angie needed my help and support. On June 3, her first child, Athena, was born with a diaphragmatic hernia. Surgeons operated on her three days later. They did not expect her to survive.
Fortunately, my husband and I were nearby during this trying time. Each afternoon after I finished my Book of Mormon video work, Angie would leave her vigil at the hospital and join us at our motel, where we comforted her and prayed for Athena.
That night, I learned that God had taken Byron home. I’m grateful for the faith I have that I will see him and my parents again. I’m also grateful that God heard our prayers for Athena. After she spent 88 days recuperating in the neonatal intensive care unit, we finally brought her home.

A powerful expression of the happiness that can come from immersing ourselves in the scriptures comes from Parley P. Pratt’s autobiography, in which he describes his first encounter with the Book of Mormon, which he called “that book of books”:
I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists. My joy was now full, as it were, and I rejoiced sufficiently to more than pay me for all the sorrows, sacrifices and toils of my life. [PPP,1994, p. 20]
I understand that in some Jewish families when a son starts Torah studies, a drop of honey is placed on the page to indicate this duty is also a great joy. I find that symbolism very appealing and testify that there is great constancy and happiness to be had from a daily study of the Bible and the Restoration scriptures.

In July 2001, Hoi Hoon was invited by the Hong Kong government to perform with other prominent gymnasts in the Chinese Gymnastic Gold Medalist Show. Then age 8, Hoi Hoon was the youngest participant.
All of the gymnasts were asked to attend a final rehearsal the Sunday before the performance. The Tam family knows it is important to keep the Sabbath day holy, so Brother Tam told Hoi Hoon’s coach that Hoi Hoon would attend every other rehearsal—but not the one on Sunday. The coaches and officials were upset and thought about replacing Hoi Hoon with another boy. The Tam family would not change their minds, but they prayed every night in their family prayer that Hoi Hoon would be able to perform. In the end, the officials allowed him to be in the show. Even without the extra practice, Hoi Hoon did every movement perfectly. “I know that obeying the Lord is very important,” Hoi Hoon says.

The youth of the Lindon Utah West Stake (this page) were called by their stake president to be missionaries for a day at an outdoor activity where they gave “Church history tours.” They took visitors to various booths where other youth acted out episodes from Church history and the life of Joseph Smith. KC McMillan, a priest from the Lindon Fifth Ward, played Joseph Smith in the Smith family home booth. He says his testimony of Joseph Smith has “increased quite a bit. The Spirit can be so strong when you’re talking about Joseph Smith.”
Following the tour, visitors eventually arrived in an area that represented Nauvoo, where they could play pioneer games and participate in other activities. Youth and other stake members also helped construct a large replica of the Nauvoo Temple.
Braden Sweeten, 18, from the Lindon 18th ward, helped youth and other stake members build the replica of the temple. He said while he was building, “It really sunk into my heart how much the Prophet and the Saints really sacrificed to build the temple.”

I remember other Mexican Saints who, because floods had destroyed their crops, were fearful that they would not be able to attend the conference but who, after fasting and prayer, sold some of their belongings and pooled their money for transportation. For many there was no money left for food, but it did not matter. They decided they could fast for the three or four days of the conference. As you would expect, other loving Saints filled their plates as the Lord had filled their souls.

“Mom, can I look for buried treasure?” Cindy asked.
Her mother looked up from the book she was reading and said, “Of course, but stay around the camp.”
“I will.” Cindy loved camping with her family and looking for buried treasure. She picked up a small shovel and a blue bag.
As she walked around the camp, she found a gray feather. “I wonder what bird lost this?” she said as she put it into her blue bag.
A few feet farther away, she saw something shiny sticking out of the dirt. With her shovel, she dug up a small stone. Cindy rolled the stone in her hands and said, “Jesus made this.” She put the stone into her blue bag with the feather.
Cindy noticed tiny purple flowers growing everywhere. She knew that she was not supposed to pick the flowers, so she got down on her knees and smelled their sweet fragrance.
Cindy walked some more. In a clump of tall grass, she spotted a baby rabbit and said, “I wonder where its mother is?” She didn’t put the baby rabbit into her bag, either.
Then she noticed something strange in the dirt. She began to dig. In seconds she dug up a rusty tin can. It wasn’t pretty like the other things she had found. She was going to bury it again, then remembered what her parents and Primary teachers had taught her about choosing the right. She knew that the right thing to do was to put it into her bag, take it back to camp, and throw it into the trash bag.
Cindy began to sing her favorite Primary song, “Choose the Right Way.”* As she sang, she continued to enjoy the treasures Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ had put all around her.

Caregiving has been one of the most difficult experiences we have ever had, but also one of the most rewarding. We have seen so many miracles. There were moments when the right resources and people seemed to come out of nowhere exactly when we needed them. Moments when certain medications suddenly became available. Moments when, after an unbearable day, unexpected peace would wash over us. And one of the most beautiful miracles I (Stephen) experienced was watching tender tears fall down Kay’s cheeks as she departed from this world, finally at peace, and seemingly recalling things she hadn’t remembered in years.

Yet it was not the first time that a Soviet leader had taken grave political risks to prevent nuclear war. During the Cuban Missile Crisis of October 1962, the world was saved widespread destruction and perhaps annihilation by the bravery of a single Soviet military officer.

Many people know something of the Cuban Missile Crisis, a tense, thirteen-day standoff between the United Sates and the Soviet Union. The crisis was triggered by the discovery that the Soviets had placed nuclear missiles in Cuba, close enough to destroy many of the largest U.S. cities. In fairness, it should be noted that U.S. missiles in Turkey posed a similar threat to the Soviet Union.

The story of tense and ultimately successful negotiations between President John F. Kennedy and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev is well known. Both leaders rose above their own immediate political interests, as well as pressures from their respective military advisers, to save the world from nuclear devastation.

But it was forty years before historians learned of a similarly heroic decision, made in the moment by one Soviet sailor under hard-to-imagine pressure. [17] Vasili Arkhipov, son of Russian peasants, was aboard a submarine armed with a nuclear torpedo when, during the Cuban missile crisis, his sub was discovered by U.S. warships. An aircraft carrier and 11 destroyers collaborated in trying to capture Vasili’s submarine. The U.S. vessels dropped explosive depth charges meant to disable the sub, or at least terrify the crew to the point of surrendering. A crew member later likened the bombardment to “sitting in a metal barrel, which somebody is constantly blasting with a sledgehammer.” [18]

The captain and his crew had not received any communication from Moscow for several days. Moreover, in an attempt to avoid capture, they had dived to a depth that prevented receiving news from U.S. commercial radio stations, which they had been monitoring during the escalating crisis. As far as they knew, war had broken out.

The Soviet captain and a ranking officer agreed that they should launch their nuclear torpedo against the U.S. warships. Ordinarily, agreement by these two leaders would have been enough to take this action. But Vasili, a fleet officer, happened to be aboard that sub. Because of his status, firing a nuclear weapon required his approval as well.

Fortunately, Vasili knew firsthand the deadly effects of nuclear radiation. Just a year earlier, he had been an officer on a nuclear submarine when the reactor that powered it developed a coolant leak and threatened to melt down. To prevent that catastrophe, which would have killed everyone aboard, the captain ordered the seven members of his engineering crew to enter the reactor compartment and make a temporary fix to the cooling system. They succeeded, but at the cost of their lives: within a month all seven men were dead, having suffered unimaginably. In the ensuing two years, fifteen more sailors on that sub died of radiation poisoning. Vasili himself felt the effects of irradiation, though he did not immediately die from it.

In that awful moment of truth in the depths of the ocean near Cuba, with the lives of his fellow sailors at risk and his military career likely to be ruined for apparent cowardice, Vasili brought his providential personal experience to bear. His mental faculties were, like those of everyone aboard the submarine, compromised by temperatures of 120 degrees and a buildup of carbon dioxide due to the failure of the air conditioning system. After four hours of this torture, Vasili’s fellow sailors were passing out. [19]

But Vasili had seen worse conditions. He no doubt recalled the deaths of his fellow sailors the year before. He likely imagined a world poisoned by radiation, with only the luckier victims dying immediately, and with generations suffering various degrees of poisoning.

Providentially, Vasili prevailed. The submarine surfaced on what proved to be the very day, October 27, when President John F. Kennedy and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev agreed to the removal of their nuclear missiles from Turkey and Cuba, respectively. Nuclear war was averted. The projected deaths of one-third of humanity did not occur. The world continued on its increasingly peaceful and prosperous trajectory.

With Eduardo’s baptism in 1987 came a desire to strengthen his testimony by reading the Book of Mormon. “How do I learn to read?” he asked his wife. María told him to look at the letters, put them together in his mind, try to sound out words, and then attempt to read aloud. With practice, she assured him, he would eventually learn to read.
Eduardo, then 45, knew the sounds of many letters, but he had not attempted to read since leaving school nearly four decades before.
With a prayer in his heart, Eduardo sat down one hot summer day in a shady spot in the backyard of his home. “There,” he says, “I determined to make the attempt.”
María says she never would have imagined what happened next. As she worked in the kitchen, she listened off and on as Eduardo attempted to sound out letters and words. “Suddenly I heard him speaking rapidly,” she says. “I listened and realized that he was reading—fluently. Less than half an hour had passed, and he was reading!”
Eduardo was so immersed in his attempt that he hadn’t realized he was reading. But as he read, he recalls, “I felt a fire burning within me.” Frightened and surprised, Eduardo called to his wife, “Mami, what is happening to me?”
“It’s the Spirit of the Lord,” María replied. “You are reading fluently!”
As she recalls the experience, María says, “It was something we can never deny.”
Eduardo adds, “The day I learned to read is also the day I gained my testimony of the Book of Mormon and its power.”

And, finally, be a good influence on others. When I was a sophomore in high school, some of my friends started drinking and smoking. They knew I didn’t drink or smoke, but they began to pressure me to join their parties anyway. The more they pressured me, the more uncomfortable I felt, until finally I stopped hanging around them. I figured that if they were really my friends, they wouldn’t push me to do things I didn’t want to do. Real friends would never ask you to do something you shouldn’t.

While serving as a mission president, I came home once to general conference. It’s always very dangerous for a mission president to leave his mission—I don’t recommend that. While I was away, four of my missionaries had decided that a sister was too good for her husband, and they had counseled her to divorce him and leave him. That’s right. A missionary, you see, is called to preach the gospel by the Spirit, and he has great responsibility with respect to nonmembers. But when it comes to membership in the Church, we have branch presidents and bishops who are called, ordained, and set apart by the Lord to give this kind of direction and guidance. I would even be concerned about a bishop who would counsel a wife to leave her husband. I transferred those missionaries, got them as far from this situation as I could as quickly as I could. Then it took a month before I was able to get the husband and wife back together again! It worked out all right. They are still corresponding with me even now, so I think it’s going to work out pretty well. But when we get out of our areas of assignment, we get into trouble. It makes no difference who you are.

One blessing that I believe has come from paying tithing is that over the course of my career I never once went for a long time without a job. At one point early in my career I was laid off from my job, and within two weeks I had another job making more than I had at my previous one. During 25 years with one company, I went through many periods when employees were laid off all around me, but I wasn’t. I believe the Lord blessed me for paying tithing.

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, we converted a lovely schoolteacher down in Florida. And at the close of one of our conferences she came up to me and said, “President Richards, I’m going to get married. What do you think of that?”
“Oh,” I said, “I think it’s wonderful. Do I know him?”
“No.”
I said, “Is he a member of the Church?”
“No.” I didn’t dare tell her that she couldn’t marry out of the Church down there, because I didn’t know where she could find a man in the Church except our Mormon elders, and we had hands-off signs hanging all over them.
I said, “You’re a beautiful, sweet, clean Mormon girl, and you could never be happy with an unclean man. In your association with him you’ll know whether he’s clean or not and whether he’d take advantage of you if you’d permit him. He must be a prayerful man because, as wicked as the world is today, I wouldn’t trust any man to be true to his wife and children if he doesn’t believe that there is a God and that someday he will have to answer to him for his life here upon the earth. Your young man must be willing to let you raise your children in the Church because, knowing as you do that the God of heaven has restored his truth to the earth, you would be a very unhappy woman if you had children and couldn’t teach them the gospel. If he measures up, let me know when he joins the Church.” I didn’t see her for about four months, when we had another conference. Her train was late, and after the meeting she came along the aisle. I could see she was headed for me, so I went down and said, “Name, please?”
“Oh, I’m still Miss So-and-so.”
I said, “What became of the marriage?”
“He didn’t come up to your specifications.” Well, that’s the way you should judge, before you get married, that you’re laying the right kind of foundation.

Joseph permitted teachers to use the large upper room to conduct their classes. However, the boisterousness of some students frequently disturbed the clerks, who were often at work writing the history of the Church. One of the Prophet’s sons, Joseph Smith III, recalled: “As schoolboys we had good reason to remember Doctor Willard Richards [one of the clerks], for often in going down the stairway from the schoolroom we were noisy, which seemed to annoy him considerably. Upon one or two occasions he met us at the foot of the stairs and refused to let us pass, the while he cautioned us to be more quiet. Doubtless we were annoying as we trampled and jostled, crowding the steps and surging through the door. He especially scolded the larger children. We learned it was better to go quietly than to cause such real distress” (Mary Audentia Smith Anderson and Bertha Audentia Anderson Hulmes, eds., Joseph Smith III and the Restoration, Independence, Missouri: Herald Publishing House, 1952, p. 28).

In the listening audience today are Jeff and Joyce Underwood of Pocatello, Idaho. They are parents of Jeralee and their other five children. Jeff works on a building maintenance team that cares for some of our chapels in Pocatello, Idaho. Joyce is a mother and homemaker. One day last July, their daughter Jeralee, age eleven, was going door to door collecting money for her newspaper route. Jeralee never returned home—not that day, nor the next day, nor the next, nor ever.

Two thousand people from the area had gone out day after day to search for her. Other churches sent support and food for the searchers. It was learned that Jeralee had been abducted and brutally murdered by an evil man. When her body was found, the whole city was horrified and shocked. All segments of the community reached out to Joyce and Jeff in love and sympathy. Some became angry and wanted to take vengeance.

After Jeralee’s body was found, Jeff and Joyce appeared with great composure before the television cameras and other media to publicly express their profound thanks to all who had helped in the search and who had extended sympathy and love. Joyce said, “I know our Heavenly Father has heard and answered our prayers, and he has brought our daughter back to us.” Jeff said, “We no longer have doubt about where she is.” Joyce continued, “I have learned a lot about love this week, and I also know there is a lot of hate. I have looked at the love and want to feel that love, and not the hate. We can forgive.”

Elder Joe J. Christensen and I, representing the General Authorities, were among the thousands privileged to attend Jeralee’s funeral service. The Holy Spirit blessed that gathering in a remarkable way and spoke peace to the souls of all who attended. Later, President Kert W. Howard, Jeralee’s stake president, wrote, “The Underwoods have received letters from people both in and out of the Church stating that they prayed for Jeralee, and they hadn’t prayed in years, and because of this, they had a renewed desire to return to the Church.” President Howard continued, “We will never know the extent of activation and rededication this single event has caused. Who knows the far-reaching effects Jeralee’s life will have for generations untold?” Many have come into the Church because they wanted to know what kind of a religion could give the Underwoods their spiritual strength.

I mention the good coming from this tragic event with Jeralee’s parents’ full approval and encouragement. Their sweet daughter was like the lad who had only five barley loaves and two small fishes to give to the cause of the Savior, but by the power of God, countless thousands have been spiritually fed.