Gospel Story Finder

Not long ago Elder David Haight of the Council of the Twelve had been assigned to a stake conference in Mexico. As he reached the border, he found that he did not have with him the necessary papers which would allow him to enter the country. In spite of his plea and the urgency of his mission, the officials had no authority to admit him without proper credentials. Therefore, he could not attend the conference.

So it is with our progress in the priesthood. We must be properly recommended and endorsed by those in authority before we can advance from one office to another, and we cannot receive the certification or proof of our advancement without being worthy, or meeting the requirements. It will be so when we want to enter the kingdom of heaven to join with others who have gone before, and live eternally with God, our Father.

Marlan James Coe, 15, of the Las Vegas 36th Ward, Las Vegas Nevada Stake, was chosen to represent the Boy Scouts of America as the outstanding Scout in his region. Based on his outstanding achievements as a Scout, he was named the western regional winner. Marlan then went on to compete with five other Scouts from across the United States vying for the title of Scout National Youth Representative. After flying to Chicago for interviews, he was named runner-up to the national representative. That’s quite an achievement!

The elementary school in our area was having a program in the gymnasium for both parents and students. The students sat close together on the floor. The fifth graders were seated near the back of the room with students from the special education class who had physical and mental disabilities.
During the program, one of the older boys in that class began to cry loudly. Many in the room either ignored him or stared at him in embarrassment. Shanie Atwood, a fifth grader, leaned close to him and kindly began to rub his back. This calmed him, and soon he was quietly enjoying the program again.
Jesus would not have ignored the boy or given him unkind looks. He would have helped, and that is exactly what Shanie did. She was a Christlike example that day.

When we choose the right, we are sometimes rewarded in our Primary by Officer Charles Theodore Rigatoni (his initials spell CTR!). He comes to Primary with a set of heart-shaped handcuffs and searches for the person who was “caught choosing the right” that week. He presents the person with a shiny gold or silver badge and then tells everyone about the good things he was caught doing. Sometimes it is making his bed, helping to fix dinner without being asked, or sharing toys with friends.
One day I was waiting to get my hair cut. A younger boy tried to knock the book I was reading out of my hand. I tried to ignore him, but he kept pushing me. Finally, I looked him right in the eye, pointed to my CTR ring, and said, “Choose the right!” He backed away and didn’t bother me again. Officer Rigatoni heard about this and gave me a badge. I am glad to have a friend like Officer Rigatoni to help me remember to choose the right.

You may know that I am the mother of seven sons. I know boys! It has been an exciting life at our house! I’ve learned a lot from them and from their friends, both boys and girls, and I could tell you a few of their secrets. Maybe I could just share one and hope that I won’t get in trouble. This is it: boys hate to be embarrassed. I remember the time a young man I know had a date for the prom. He brought her to our house before the dance so we could take pictures. When they got there he came into the kitchen, where I was looking for the camera, and said: “Wait until you see my date’s dress. She looks so beautiful!” This boy had never said anything like that before so I could hardly wait to see what he meant.
When I saw her I understood; she was lovely. The dress she was wearing was beautiful; I learned that she and her mother had searched everywhere for it. When they finally found this dress, they knew it would be perfect with some added fabric and finishing touches to meet their high standards.
All their efforts were rewarded because she was absolutely radiant this night, but it was more than the dress that made her shine. It was her quiet confidence. As I looked at her, I was reminded of the scripture, “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong.” Where did this confidence that she had come from? I noticed that this young woman could focus on others because she was not worried about how she looked. She had taken care of that detail weeks before. The young man she was with felt comfortable and safe and happy when he was with her because her dress was not revealing. It was modest in every way, and this made her confident and happy. And that’s appealing. He wasn’t embarrassed by her; he was proud of her.

Recently I returned home from a mission presidents’ seminar. We held meetings all day, and then I caught an airplane back to Salt Lake City. By the time I arrived home I had been up about 17 hours. I changed into my sleep wear and climbed in bed. My wife and I talked for a few moments; then the telephone rang.
A boyhood friend, one I had known since my early school days, was calling me. “Brother Vaughn,” he said in a trembling voice, “my daughter is back in the hospital. She has had several major seizures. She has stopped breathing twice. She is on oxygen but seems to be failing fast.”
I asked if she had been administered to.
“No, we were hoping you could come and bless her.”
The physical body was tired. I felt I had earned the rest. I also knew my wife was glad to have me home for a while and the flesh wavered. However, the spirit knew precisely what was to be done. I said, “Joe, I will be there in about 30 minutes.” We live about a half an hour from the University of Utah Hospital, in Salt Lake City.
I turned to my wife and asked her if she would like to go with me. This noble woman said yes. We both got up, dressed, and drove to the hospital.
I embraced this sweet friend that I had known for more than 46 years. We found a little room, and along with family members we joined in a prayer of great faith.
Then Joe and I went to the intensive care room and gave his daughter a blessing. We pleaded with the Lord and had a sweet, peaceful assurance come over us that she was in his care. At the time, I wondered whether or not she would live through the blessing.
My sweet wife waited in the car. We drove home, and we were not tired or exhausted any more. We were deeply grateful to be worthy enough to be called upon. At the time of the writing of this article, Joe’s daughter is alive. She is a miracle.

While we were growing up, our father was a ward clerk for fifteen years, and I remember that every Sunday evening he would come home after meeting and go into the dining room. He would pull down the blind and on the oak table he would put the money that he had gathered that day for the bishop—the tithes and offerings.

He would count it and account for it and put the ones and the fives and the tens in a pile; and then he would get the ironing board and an iron and a wet rag, and then our dad would take each of these paper bills and iron it smooth.

Now you would wonder what four little boys would recognize about this. The one thing they got from it was that whatever you do for the Lord, you do the very best that you know how. There is nothing that is too good for the Lord.Bishop H. Burke PetersonOf the Presiding Bishopric

His new friend, Peter McLean, had already had some hard things happen to him. His father had died, lost at sea while fishing. Peter; his sisters, Lilika and Lei; and his mother, Hainite, were left alone. Peter admits that he struggled. His aunt had persuaded him to attend Saineha High School, the LDS-sponsored school, but he felt out of place and skipped classes regularly. The principal and teachers were patient and kept encouraging him to return. Then he met Ifoni, and his life began to change.

In 1983 his beloved wife, Clara Jeffs Hunter, passed away. She had suffered a devastating stroke several years before that had left her very much diminished. President Hunter tended to her needs, providing loving care with respect and an uncommon devotion for many years, with a complete disregard for his own health. But there was a reward, for as diminished as she was, Claire would smile and respond only to him. The tenderness so evident in their communication was heartrending. We have never seen such an example of devotion of a husband to his wife. Theirs was a many-splendored love affair. Love is service.

My second example comes from my own experience along my own Jericho Road. In about my tenth year, as Christmas approached, I yearned as only a boy can yearn for an electric toy train. I didn’t want the less expensive wind-up model train; rather, I wanted one that operated through the miracle of electricity. Economically, those years were very difficult, yet Mother and Dad, through some sacrifice, I am sure, presented to me on Christmas morning a beautiful electric train.
For hours I ran the train, watching the engine first pull its rail cars forward, then push them backward around the track. Mother entered the living room and said to me that she had purchased a wind-up train for Mrs. Hansen’s son Mark, who lived down the lane. I asked if I could see the train. The engine was short and blocky—not long and sleek like the expensive model I had received. However, I did take notice of an oil tanker car that was part of his inexpensive set. My train had no such car, and I began to feel pangs of envy. I put up such a fuss that Mother finally gave in to my pleadings and handed me the oil tanker car. She said, “If you need it more than Mark, you take it.” I put it with my train set and felt pleased with the result.
Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen, who was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift and was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, and was overjoyed as it pulled the little train around the track. Mother wisely asked, “What do you think of Mark’s train, Tommy?” I felt a keen sense of guilt and became very much aware of my selfishness. I said to Mother, “Wait just a moment—I’ll be right back.”
As swiftly as my legs could carry me, I ran to our home, picked up the oil tanker car, plus an additional car of my own, ran back down the lane to the Hansen home, and said joyfully to Mark, “We forgot to bring two cars that belong to your train.” Mark coupled the two extra cars to his train. I watched the engine make its labored way around the track and felt a supreme joy difficult to describe and impossible to forget.
Some remember Mother for the little poems she would make up and recite, others for the music she played, songs sung, favors given, or stories told; but I remember best that day we together traveled homeward along our Jericho Road and, like the good Samaritan, found a cherished opportunity to help.

When we visited Suriname, we met most of the members and learned that the missionary couple serving there, Elder and Sister Limburg, had taught them the gospel using a series of simple teaching and learning methods. They had no momentous or spectacular events or activities, only daily spiritual experiences resulting from their sensitive response to the promptings of the Spirit.
A new missionary couple, Brother and Sister Don Rapier, arrived in Suriname one day ahead of Elder Didier and me, so they met the Saints for the first time along with us. We held four sacrament meetings in homes of the Saints on the Sunday we were there. Elder Rapier shared his feelings about blessing the sacrament in the humble home of one of our new converts. He said:
“This was the most humble circumstance that I had ever been in in my life. The house was made of mostly short pieces of lumber. No electricity, no running water. The roof was corrugated sheets. The house and the yard were clean. The place where we held our sacrament meeting was under the overhang in front of the house. The members and the Brethren sat on wooden boards that were laid on bricks. The sacrament table was a small wooden stand that was set on top of a piece of linoleum covering the dirt floor. The sacrament cloths were very simple and very clean.
“As I knelt down to bless the sacrament, I was overwhelmed with the spirit of love that I had quickly developed for this people. I thought surely our Savior was pleased that He was being remembered in such humble circumstances. I thought of our chapels at home. I could never have appreciated the sacrament there like I can now after this special experience. I also observed that it might take several years before these sweet, humble members would fully realize the significance of having two General Authorities, one an Apostle, in their home, blessing them and their family.”
Brother Rapier’s experience touched deeply each one of us who was there. After the fourth sacrament meeting, my mind reflected upon the words of the Lord: “Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

Elder John Taylor was a man who stood up for his beliefs. Many people called him “Defender of the Faith.” One example of his courage happened when he went to Columbus, Ohio, to speak at a Church conference.
Church member 1: Elder Taylor, many people from the town will be there. Many of them wish to tar and feather you tonight.
Church member 2: Our advice is to not go and so avoid this danger altogether.
John: I did not come to Ohio to be scared off. I will go and speak. If you do not want to come with me, I will go alone.
When Elder Taylor arrived, he started by telling the congregation that he was from Canada—a country still ruled by a monarch.
John: Gentlemen, I now stand among men whose fathers fought for and won freedom, the greatest blessing ever given to the human family.
John: I have been informed that you plan to tar and feather me for my religious opinions. Is this what you have inherited from your fathers? If so, you now have a victim!
Elder Taylor then opened his vest.
John: Gentlemen, come on with your tar and feathers. Your victim is ready!
No one moved. No one spoke. No one came forward. After a pause, he spoke for three hours!
After the conference, community leaders came up to speak with him.
Leaders: Mr. Taylor, we apologize for any bad intentions of some of the community members.

In 2016, Jayne Kyprianou was serving in the stake Primary presidency of the Poole Stake. After hearing Elder Kearon’s April 2016 talk, “Refuge from the Storm”1, the Primary presidency wanted to do something to help refugee children who were arriving in their area.
After a lot of prayer and discussion, they ended up hosting an online auction and a cake sale. They beat their goal of raising £500, by raising almost £1,800.
The money raised was used to buy items for educational packs for the refugee children. These would be packed by stake Primary children in a forthcoming Primary conference.
During that time, the stake public affairs directors, Brother Roger Head and Sister Moira Head, began to have contact with Unity in Vision, Bournemouth, a voluntary group founded by members of ethnic minorities.
Unity in Vision was invited to attend the stake’s Primary conference, and this was the start of a great working relationship between the Church and Unity in Vision.

A close personal friend learned this crucial lesson as an 18-year-old. He enlisted in the United States military during the conflict between the United States and Vietnam. He was assigned to basic training in the infantry to become a foot soldier. He explained that the training was grueling. He described his drill instructor as cruel and inhumane.

One particular day his squad was dressed in full battle gear, hiking in sweltering heat. The drill instructor suddenly shouted orders to drop to the ground and not move. The instructor was watching for even the slightest motion. Any movement would result in serious consequences later on. The squad suffered for more than two hours in the heat with growing anger and resentment toward their leader.

Many months later our friend found himself leading his squad through the jungles of Vietnam. This was real, not just training. Shots began to ring from high in the surrounding trees. The entire squad immediately dropped to the ground.

What was the enemy looking for? Movement. Any motion at all would draw fire. My friend said that as he lay sweating and motionless on the jungle floor, waiting for dark for several long hours, his thoughts reflected back on basic training. He remembered his intense dislike for his drill instructor. Now he felt intense gratitude—for what he had taught him and how he had prepared him for this critical situation. The drill instructor had wisely equipped our friend and his squad with the ability to know what to do when the battle was raging. He had, in effect, saved our friend’s life.

Had the time come for baptism?
“Brother Palmer asked me if I would be baptized,” Brandon recalls. “I had already told him yes. Then the missionaries asked, too. I remember that was on August 4. They said, ‘How about September 4?’ I said, ‘That’s the day after the big game. I don’t know if that will work,’” and he called for time out to think it over. It didn’t take long. He thought about what he had learned and the answers he had already received.
“I knew I had to decide,” Brandon said, “And once I made the decision, I knew it was right. I knew I would fulfill my promises to the Lord with all my heart.”

Ken Bradford, 15, of Santa Fe, New Mexico, really made a difference by standing up for what he knew was right.
Ken had won two gold medals in wrestling and his coach told him he had an excellent chance of taking first place in his division at the state meet.
When Ken found out that part of the meet would be held on the Sabbath, he told his coach he would not be able to participate in the Sunday matches. Ken came in first in the Saturday matches, but he received the second-place medal in the meet because he did not finish the competition.
The following Monday, Ken’s coach said that he would change the rules so future tournaments would not be held on Sunday.

One of the experiences that Brother Ottley still laughs about occurred several years ago when the Tabernacle Choir was performing with the Utah Symphony Orchestra at the University of Utah commencement exercises. As he was conducting the two groups, he recalls, “Somehow my baton got away from me and flew clear over the orchestra and dropped down in front of the choir. We just continued with the performance, and I noticed my baton coming along the floor as orchestra members kicked it forward toward me. The principal violist picked it up to hand it to me but realized that at that moment he had to play so he dropped it. Then the concert master picked it up and handed it to me just at the time I was to cue the choir for a big entrance. It got us giggling to the point where we almost didn’t make the entrance.
“But that wasn’t the end of the story; that was only the beginning. The next day my brother, who had been at the commencement exercises, gave me a tube of glue and instructions on how to stick the baton to my fingers. Then a day or two later a choir member presented me with a glove with the index finger cut out of it so that I could slip the baton in through the hole. Several weeks later a lady member of the choir stopped us in the middle of a rehearsal (and you have to remember that our rehearsals generally have a lot of observers), walked down to me and said, ‘Brother Ottley, something must be done before we can proceed.’ On behalf of the choir, she presented me a package which I was forced to unwrap in front of everybody. In it was an archer’s quiver containing a whole bunch of batons so that if I lost one I could grab another one quickly.”

In August 2020, amidst the throes of a pandemic, Len Hurley celebrated his 100th birthday and a lifetime of service—to his family, country, and fellow members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Victoria’s COVID-19 lockdown restrictions meant no visits from family or friends, however, staff at Len’s Bentleigh East nursing home made sure it was a special day for Len, decorating the hall with balloons and making a garden-themed birthday cake to share with fellow residents.
Len’s family joined in the celebrations via Zoom. Letters from the queen and prime minister were also presented to the centenarian.

Sabrina Echols, a senior who was introduced to the Church by her friends Darilyn and Eva, said, “Don’t be afraid to try out for something just because you might not make it. Don’t get discouraged. It’s better to try.” Sabrina knows what she says is true from personal experience. She tried out several times to be a cheerleader on the rally squad but didn’t make it. Then she tried out for school mascot and was successful. Now she wears the gold and purple that represent her school.

In the early stages of my friendship with Michelle, all I knew about her was that her values were much stronger than those any of my other friends had. It wasn’t until I was invited to her house for a family home evening that I found out she was a Mormon.
At this family home evening I was introduced to the gospel by two wonderful missionaries. When they asked if I wanted to hear the discussions, I was filled with an unfamiliar but comfortable feeling. I accepted.
After I had received the discussions and had many of my concerns resolved, I set a date for baptism. But, even though I felt good about my decision, I wanted some kind of confirmation that I was doing the right thing. I started to search desperately for the answer to my question, “Is the Church true?” I prayed morning, noon, and night, but I didn’t seem to be getting an answer.
Then I met Davie Wilden, a Church member. After spending many hours together talking and reading, we decided it was time to pray. We knelt, and Davie prayed first, asking Heavenly Father to help me; then it was my turn to pray.
I had just begun my prayer when I heard a voice. It said, “Say sorry. Just say sorry.”
I prayed with all my heart for Heavenly Father to forgive my sins. I felt a warm, tingly feeling come right down through my arms and seem to pierce me to the very center. Five days later I was baptized.
Since then, my testimony of the gospel has grown stronger and stronger. Exactly one year and two days after I was baptized, I entered the New Zealand MTC, having been called on a mission to Perth, Australia. I now experience the same joy as the people who taught me the gospel by sharing my testimony with others.