Gospel Story Finder

Material blessings are a part of the gospel if they are achieved in the proper way and for the right purpose. I am reminded of an experience of President Hugh B. Brown. As a young soldier in World War I, he was visiting an elderly friend in the hospital. This friend was a millionaire several times over who, at the age of eighty, was lying at death’s door. Neither his divorced wife nor any of his five children cared enough to come to the hospital to see him. As President Brown thought of the things his friend “had lost which money could not buy and noted his tragic situation and the depth of his misery,” he asked his friend how he would change the course of his life if he had it to live over again.
The old gentleman, who died a few days later, said: “‘As I think back over life the most important and valuable asset which I might have had but which I lost in the process of accumulating my millions, was the simple faith my mother had in God and in the immortality of the soul.
“‘… You asked me what is the most valuable thing in life. I cannot answer you in better words than those used by the poet.’” He asked President Brown to get a little book out of his briefcase from which he read a poem entitled “I’m an Alien.”
I’m an alien, to the faith my mother taught me.
I’m a stranger to the God that heard my mother when she cried.
I’m an alien to the comfort that, “Now I lay me,” brought me.
To the everlasting arms that held my father when he died.
When the great world came and called me, I deserted all to follow.
Never noting in my blindness I had slipped my hand from His.
Never dreaming in my dazedness that the bubble fame is hollow.
That the wealth of gold is tinsel, as I since have learned it is.
I have spent a lifetime seeking things I spurned when I found them,
I have fought and been rewarded in many a winning cause,
But I’d give it all, fame and fortune and the pleasures that surround them,
If I only had the faith that made my mother what she was.
“That was the dying testimony of a man who was born in the Church but had drifted far from it. That was the brokenhearted cry of a lonely man who could have anything money could buy, but who had lost the most important things of life in order to accumulate this world’s goods” (Continuing the Quest, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1961, pp. 32–35; italics added).

Elder Oaks was born in Provo, Utah, 12 August 1932, and grew up a worker. He began working for pay only three or four years after his father died, to help his widowed mother. Dr. Lloyd Oaks’ death (of tuberculosis) left his young widow Stella with three children: Dallin, eight at the time, and the oldest; Merrill, now a Provo, Utah, ophthalmologist; and Evelyn, now Mrs. H. Ross Hammond, of Salt Lake City.
“I was blessed with an extraordinary mother,” Elder Oaks recalls. “She surely was one of the many noble women who have lived in the latter days.” He lauds her as a woman of “great faith,” a “very skilled parent,” and a woman possessed of great natural executive ability. Many outside the family would agree. Before her death in 1980, Stella Oaks was known as a force for good in Provo, in both Church and civic service.
“She gave me a great deal of responsibility and freedom. She encouraged me to have a job,” Elder Oaks explains. From the time he first worked for pay, “at eleven or twelve,” he has been continuously employed.
That first job was sweeping out a radio repair shop. He had to learn to test the radio tubes he found on the floor, to find out which were good, and that led to an interest in radio. He threw himself into study with characteristic intensity. Before he was sixteen, he had obtained a first-class radiotelephone license, which allowed him to operate a commercial radio station’s transmitter, and found a job in radio. Station managers liked to hire a “combination man”—an engineer who could double as an announcer—“but my voice hadn’t changed,” he recalls, laughing. Before long, however, that change took care of itself, and he was working regularly as an announcer.

Youth in Redlands, California, received high marks for their marksmanship at youth conference. Hitting a target before they were allowed to eat breakfast was part of an all-day event that focused on the Book of Mormon. The youth learned that, much like the pioneers that would follow hundreds of years later, the faithful Saints in the Book of Mormon have left behind a legacy of faith and courage.
After a long day of reading, role playing, and talking about the Book of Mormon, the youth held a testimony meeting.
“When I stood below the tower of King Benjamin and repeated what his people had said, I was there!” said one participant. “I asked for mercy and stated that I believed in Jesus Christ, and I really meant it.”

Several years ago, I attended a work seminar, and I noticed that some of the seminar leaders would fold their arms and bow their heads before eating lunch. These people are usually so nice, I thought to myself. Why are they in such a bad mood whenever they sit down to eat?
I quickly learned that they were praying—not sulking—and I couldn’t help but ask more questions about their faith. They were overwhelmingly kind and had such a unique spirit about them, and I yearned to know more. I learned that they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and we quickly accepted their invitation to attend church with them.
Due to his autism, my younger son was afraid of being in large groups and meeting new people, but the ward welcomed us with open arms and did everything they could to accommodate our needs. The members set aside a special room at the back of the chapel just for my son, and they fulfilled our request to avoid making eye contact with him until he felt more at ease. Even when one of my children would disrupt sacrament meeting, we were treated with the utmost respect and kindness.
I saw my sons unfold in the warmth of the ward’s embrace. They quickly made new friends, and my sons even started to attend Primary classes on days that I was unable to attend church.
We were eventually baptized, a memory that still brings tears to my eyes. At the baptismal service, the ward members—understanding my children’s fear of crowds—tiptoed into the back of the room after the boys had been seated to avoid frightening them. Afterward, we were offered a mountain of congratulatory sweets, and the love in the room was so palpable that my sons remarked, “I want to be baptized again!”
I have nothing but gratitude in my heart when I think about the deep love demonstrated by the members in our ward—a love that ultimately allowed us to find the light of the gospel. The ward perfectly encapsulated what it means to have our “hearts knit together in unity and in love one towards another” (Mosiah 18:21). My family was truly blessed by the kindness of these welcoming Latter-day Saints.
It’s now been two years since my sons and I were baptized. Both of my sons have been ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood, and I’ve seen an incredible change in their demeanors.
I’m grateful for the many caring individuals who accepted my family and who helped my sons overcome their fears through the power of love. I’m grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ, through which even the deepest wounds of prejudice can be healed. And above all, I’m grateful for a loving Heavenly Father, who prepared a way for my family to find peace and belonging, even when I couldn’t see what that path would be.
I’ve learned that as we make room for our differences, we make room for greater love. Each of us is a beloved child of heavenly parents, and as we remember this truth, we can all—no matter where we are or who we are—become one in Christ (see Doctrine and Covenants 38:27).

Cathryn stood quite breathless one bitter cold December day, watching Mr. VanDermere fight to steady his team of horses. His wagon, loaded with coal, had slid backward half the length of the arching, ice-covered bridge and was lodged against the support beam at the bridge’s mouth. Caught between the beam and the iced incline, Mr. VanDermere could neither back the horses up nor guide them forward. The bridge groaned as its wooden railing began to give way. The horses were fighting hard, the muscles of their backs, necks, and thighs bunching into knots as they struggled against the slippery ice and relentless wind. Would they break the rail and fall to the icy river below? If they did, they would take Mr. VanDermere with them, and all would be killed!
Cathryn’s mother, her arms laden with Christmas packages, opened the door to their home and went in, but Cathryn stood staring at the massive horses, her eyes glazed with fear. She had been terrified of horses ever since being knocked down and nearly killed five years earlier by Mrs. Johnson’s runaway mare.
“Cathryn, come in here!” Her mother’s voice shook her out of her memories. “Hurry!” Cathryn ran inside and found her mother at the kitchen stove, hurriedly emptying the ash bin into a sack. Soot and ash were wisping through the air, coating everything in her mother’s always spotless kitchen, including her mother! What a sight! “Run this ash to Mr. VanDermere so he can put it on the ice for the horses’ hooves to grip. Hurry! I’ll go to the neighbors for more.”
Cathryn didn’t move. Her mother knew that she was afraid of horses, and Mr. VanDermere’s horses were the largest beasts she had ever seen!
“Cathryn, I said hurry! We haven’t a minute to waste! You won’t have to go near the horses—just take the sack to Mr. VanDermere. Now run!”
As Cathryn stepped outside, the bitter wind caught her clothes and nearly toppled her to the ground. The gusts were so fierce that most people had stayed indoors. As she neared the bridge, she could see that both Mr. VanDermere and his horses were exhausted. When she got near the animals, the smell of sweat and fear hung in the air. Her heart pounded faster. What if the horses should step on her, or, worse, knock her off the bridge into the river? Her mind raced near panic. She knew that the ashes in her hand were Mr. VanDermere’s only hope, yet she stopped, too afraid to go any closer.
“Oh, Cathryn, you’d best not get too close, my dear!” Mr. VanDermere shouted breathlessly over the howling wind.
Cathryn took a few steps forward. “My mother sent me with a sack of ashes. She said that you could put them on the ice.”
“Oh, that would be most helpful!” Mr. VanDermere said. As he spoke, part of the bridge’s railing gave way and plunged to the icy depths below.
This again stopped Cathryn dead in her tracks. Fighting her fear, she tried to give herself reasons for going on. The wagon would already have fallen off the bridge if it hadn’t been lodged against the support beam. The wagon contained a full week’s wages for Mr. VanDermere. Losing it would leave his family without food. And if the wagon fell, so would the horses.
Cathryn thought about how lovely her own home was with Christmas decorations and food aplenty. She thought, too, about the VanDermere children, who had very little as it was. Their father couldn’t afford to lose the wagon or its contents, and he couldn’t replace the horses. And the children might lose not only their food, but their father!
“Cathryn, you’d best get back! The rest of the railing is about to go, and I can’t fight much longer!”
What a brave man he is! Cathryn thought. With a new surge of courage, she ran up the slick incline toward him. It was very slippery, and she fell more than once. Reaching the wagon at last, she tried to hand the sack to Mr. VanDermere.
“I can’t pour it myself, dear. I need to hold onto the team.”
Cathryn stared up at him, stricken with fear. Mr. VanDermere expected her to scatter the ashes! That meant getting close to the feet of the large beasts. They could crush her! But if she didn’t help, they’d all fall off the bridge any minute!
Opening the sack with shaking hands, Cathryn fought the wind as she tossed handfuls of ash under the front feet of the horses. They had a wild, fearful look in their eyes but seemed to sense that she was there to help. She went down the incline a bit and scattered ashes beneath their hind legs. Climbing to the crest of the bridge, she backed down toward the horses, scattering the remaining ash.
Within seconds the broad hooves began to grip the ash. It was working! The horses found sure footing and clambered over the peak of the bridge. Mr. VanDermere cautiously guided the team down the other side, then climbed from the wagon and stood panting heavily.
When he’d caught his breath, he walked back to Cathryn. “You have saved my life and the lives of my horses! Plus my wagon! What a wonderfully brave thing you have done!”
Cathryn started to cry from relief that the nightmare was finally over. She hugged Mr. VanDermere. “Just have a happy Christmas, sir.”
Cathryn’s mother came running up. “Oh, Cathryn, are you all right? I’m sorry it took me so long. I had a hard time finding anyone with ashes to give. I’m afraid this is all I was able to gather.” She handed a small sack to Mr. VanDermere.
“This is a brave little girl you have here, ma’am. She saved my life and the lives of my horses.” He tucked the sack into his oversized coat pocket and patted it. “Thank you. I’ll hang onto this in case I need it.” He tipped his hat to them and went back over the bridge to attend to his still-trembling horses.
Cathryn’s mother hugged her tightly. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, “and so grateful that you’re safe! How about some hot cocoa?”
Cathryn smiled yes. Starting for home, she noticed that her hands were scraped from her falls. She was covered with ash, and her winter coat was torn. But she didn’t care. She felt good. In fact, she had never felt better!

Another time I was in a distant city. After a conference we were ordaining and setting apart leaders. As we concluded, the stake president asked, “Can we ordain a young man to be an elder who is leaving for the mission field?” The answer, of course, was yes.

As the young man came forward, he motioned for three brethren to follow and stand in for his ordination.

I noticed on the back row a carbon copy of this boy, and I asked, “Is that your father?”

The young man said, “Yes.”

I said, “Your father will ordain you.”

And he protested, “But I’ve already asked another brother to ordain me.”

And I said, “Young man, your father will ordain you, and you’ll live to thank the Lord for this day.”

Then the father came forward.

Thank goodness he was an elder. Had he not been, he soon could have been! In the military they would call that a battlefield commission. Sometimes such things are done in the Church.

The father did not know how to ordain his son. I put my arm around him and coached him through the ordinance. When he was finished, the young man was an elder. Then something wonderful happened. Completely changed, the father and son embraced. It was obvious that had never happened before.

The father, through his tears, said, “I didn’t get to ordain my other boys.”

Think how much more was accomplished than if another had ordained him, even an Apostle.

William Wood’s teenage years ended while he was serving in the British navy. Now, after war experience in the Crimea and China, and a three-year voyage around the world aboard the (His Majesty’s Ship) Retribution, the sailor enjoyed being home again on the Isle of Sheppey, near the mouth of the Thames River. He relayed and became reacquainted with his relatives, none of whom had appreciated his joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints five years earlier.
After being home two weeks William looked up the local branch of the Church. His sister went along, thinking he was just going for a walk. They ended up at a Mormon meeting in Sheerness held in “a little upstairs room in a dirty back alley.” William received a hearty welcome from the branch president and the few Saints who had known him before.
They called on him to speak at the meeting and tell about his sea experiences. His sister was surprised, he noted, “at finding me still a Mormon and hearing me preach.”
To supplement his discharge pay of 80 pounds sterling, William found work as a butcher. He was hired at good wages by none other than his former employer at Maldon, Mr. Blaxall, the man who fired him years before for joining the Latter-day Saints. William returned to Maldon and worked for about a year, during which period he had two pressing goals: emigrating to Zion and “selecting me a wife.”
Early in 1862 the seaman met and fell in love with Elizabeth Gentry, the attractive, 16-year-old daughter of the branch president in Maldon. Her mother had joined the Church in 1853, Elizabeth in 1854, and her blacksmith father the next year. Brother Gentry and William, converts the same year, had served together as priests at preaching services around Maldon before William’s navy service.
When William and Elizabeth became engaged, they counseled with traveling elder Francis M. Lyman about immigrating to Zion. Elder Lyman, later a member of the Council of the Twelve, advised the couple to join the emigrating company he was then organizing.
The couple joined other emigrating Saints at London and then the group traveled to Liverpool and boarded the old sailing ship William Tapscott, which had been specially chartered by Church emigration agents. For the voyage, the vessel received one of the largest Latter-day Saint companies ever to emigrate together across the Atlantic, numbering 800 souls from the British Isles, Denmark, and Sweden. “It was an interesting sight,” William reported, “to see the Saints boarding the ship with all kinds of tin utensils tied in bunches and some were carrying their straw mattresses on their heads, while others were carrying all kinds of parcels and lunch baskets. Some had old pieces of furniture … or some old picture of great-grandparents.”
William thought it remarkable how quickly the large crowd, divided into shipboard wards headed by specially appointed presiding elders, became orderly. “I do not think the same number of non-Mormons would have settled down to such order,” the veteran of shipboard life observed. “Nothing but the Spirit of the Lord would produce such harmony.” The ship left the Liverpool docks on May 13, 1862.
Ward teachers were assigned to each family, and Elder Lyman requested William to be responsible for the welfare of seven emigrants, including Elizabeth. The seaman obtained their rations, arranged for their food to be cooked, and performed other needed services. The slow, six-week voyage, characterized by rough seas and much sea-sickness, ended at Castle Garden in New York. The company passed health inspections, then boarded trains for St. Louis, Missouri. Because the American Civil War then was escalating, “we were moved and changed about a number of times. At one place we were hustled on board of a freight train. The cars had been loaded with hogs and they had not been swept or cleaned out, thus we were choked with the dust and could taste it for days afterwards.”
At the Missouri River they transferred to a small steamboat. It arrived near Council Bluffs, Iowa, very late at night, in the darkness, and passengers and baggage were unloaded at a fast speed and in confusion. At daybreak the weary travelers located their scattered luggage, then assembled at the Church’s emigration campground. There they were organized into companies of tens, fifties, and hundreds by Church emigration agent Joseph Young. William, being a military veteran, was named captain of the guards.
Wagons and teams had to be prepared, baggage loaded, food supplies purchased and packed, and teamsters trained. While this work was being done the camp was struck by a violent storm with high winds, torrential rains, and vivid lightnings. Cattle broke loose and stampeded, doing great damage. Lightning killed at least two Saints and badly injured several others. Floods washed gullies 3 meters deep in places. During the storm William, as captain of the guards, was called on to help a sister give birth under a collapsed tent—both mother and son remained his lifelong friends in Utah. The company needed two or three days to recover from the storm, and many Saints never found boxes and bags washed away by the flash floods.
A Brother Cooper, noticing William’s skill with cattle, hired him to train his teams to work together in a yoke and then drive them to Utah. In return William and Elizabeth were promised free transportation. A few days later, however, their employer announced that he did not intend to go to Zion but wanted them to help him farm nearby. When William refused, he and Elizabeth were ordered out of the wagon and left without food or water.
Fortunately for the stranded couple, Elders Lyman and Charles C. Rich rode in from the west and found them that evening. They arranged for Elizabeth to ride to Utah with a family named Wardell for 40 dollars. Elder Lyman, however, asked William to return to Florence to help with the D. F. Kimball freight train. The fiancé agreed to this separation reluctantly:
“I think this was the greatest trial I ever underwent—to leave my betrothed and go back. However, I submitted and kissed my girl good-bye and gave her a half sovereign, all the money I had in the world, and jumped in the buckboard and we went, I with a sorrowful heart and a mind full of reflections as to the outcome of it all. Brother Rich found I was in tears and told me to cheer up and have faith and all would be well.”
His first night in camp provided the other men with a good laugh then and for years after. William, preparing for bed, reached in his bag for what he thought were closely woven cotton sailor overalls and instead he held up “some sort of ladies’ underwear trimmed and adorned with lace.” His comrades laughed loudly. He had taken his sweetheart’s bag by mistake instead of his own! But perhaps the seaman was more fortunate than the others: while the freight company members slept on hard ground for three months, William rested comfortably in his sea hammock slung between two wagon wheels. On rainy nights he simply covered himself and hammock with canvas.
Day by day the scenery and travel grew increasingly tiresome. Near Chimney Rock (in what is now Wyoming) some of the cattle became diseased and died, forcing the company to make shorter drives each day. William began to think he would never get to Utah and rejoin Elizabeth.
Finally one October Saturday, William’s company descended the hills above Salt Lake City, awed by a beautiful sunset across the Great Salt Lake and by the splendid square-blocked city stretched out below them. As they approached the city, an occupant of a nearby cabin called and waved to William. It was Sister Wardell, the woman with whom Elizabeth had traveled to Utah! William hurried to her, but his anticipation was instantly crushed. She informed him that Elizabeth no longer loved him and planned to marry a local polygamist!
“This was like a bolt of thunder to me,” he recalled. Heartsick, the young man continued with the company to the valley floor, then returned that night to the Wardells. The woman tried to persuade William to marry her daughter, but he was not interested. “I formed a resolution that I was going to have the ‘love of my youth’”, he said.
Friends from Maldon lived in Centerville so early the next week William hiked 19 kilometers to locate them. He arrived at night, and “to my great joy the girl of my heart was found lying asleep on an old home-made lounge and looking free although almost in rags. She awoke, and her joy was unbounded.” Elizabeth then explained that the Wardell woman had tried to marry her to her own son. That failing, the mother sent the girl away and kept all the clothes and bedding until Elizabeth’s 40-dollar fare was paid in full. The woman then had made up the story about Elizabeth’s loss of affection for William, hoping the navy veteran would marry into the Wardell family.
William returned to Salt Lake City and drove his freight team to Springville where he received his three months’ wages. Then he walked back to Salt Lake, paid off the 40-dollar debt, obtained his and Elizabeth’s belongings, and then got a ride back to Centerville. Two weeks later the engaged couple were married.
Hard work brought the young couple a fine brick home and prospering meat business in Salt Lake, enabling them to pay for the immigration of Elizabeth’s family in 1867. But the next year the Woods gave up home and career to fill a difficult colonizing mission to Arizona. They returned destitute four years later and took up residence in a poor smelter dug in the side of a hill within sight of their former home.
William again left his prospering business and a growing family in 1880 to a mission to his home country. Near the end of that otherwise successful mission he reported:
“I preached the Gospel to my dear ones, my father, mother, brother, and sister, and although none of my own kindred have obeyed, they had to acknowledge they could not confute the doctrine, and they feel today that I am not what they judged me to be twenty-seven years ago. When a boy … All my dear relations have treated me with marked kindness, as they have any of the Elders that called upon them at the time. I know God will bless them for that.”
Six years after he returned from his mission, his beloved Elizabeth gave birth in her 42nd year to their 13th baby, but within days both mother and baby died. William later remarried, and he and his families went on to gain prominence in Canada where the Wood name became linked with extensive ranching and meat-packing interests. William’s son Edward J. served for many years as a stake president and temple president in Alberta.
The year before William died, he wrote his impressive life story, hoping his example as convert, sailor, pioneer, and missionary might teach young people in the Church that “should they have to leave the place where they have been taught the gospel … never to yield to any invitation that leads to intemperance or immorality. Always pray to the Lord, whether you are called by the servant of God to preach the Gospel or surrounded by the horrors of war—never forget to offer a silent prayer to your Eternal Father. He will not forget you.”

After I returned from Argentina, missionary service remained very important to me. As I earned both a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree, I looked for chances to share the gospel. I married Jan Nielson, and we have taught our seven children the importance of missionary work.
My whole family had an opportunity to put those teachings into practice in 1994, when my wife and I received a call to preside over the Uruguay Montevideo Mission. During that time, our son Jason served in the Portland Oregon Mission and our son Andy in the Brazil Recife Mission. The rest of the family enjoyed our missionary work in Uruguay.

Rrriiinnnggg! Rriiinnnggg! The recess bell rang. Monroe and her friends put on their coats. They hurried outside to play.
It was winter. It was cold. Monroe put on her fuzzy pink gloves. She was glad she had gloves to keep her hands warm.
Monroe and her friends had fun on the swings and the slippery slide. But Monroe saw that some of her friends weren’t wearing gloves. Their hands were red and cold. She wished she had gloves for their hands too.
After school Monroe had an idea. She asked Mom, “Can I take extra gloves to school tomorrow?”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“Some of my friends didn’t have gloves today,” Monroe said. “They can borrow mine to keep their hands warm.”
“That’s a nice thing to do,” Mom said. They found all the gloves they could. They put them in Monroe’s backpack.
The next day at recess, Monroe shared the gloves with her friends. It was still cold outside, but the gloves kept their hands warm. Monroe was happy to share her gloves. As she played, her hands felt warm. And now, her heart did too.

Like many people who pursue unusual careers, Shawn was concerned at one time with the question of whether or not his career would conflict with his feelings about the Church.
“After I had been in college three years, I wanted to rodeo for a while, and I was worried about the apparent contrast of ideals in my two worlds—the Church and the rodeo. I worried and prayed about it and spent time thinking it over. Then I realized the right answer for me was very simple. I knew the Church was true, and as long as I did the right thing and lived my religion, I couldn’t be doing wrong. I was then at peace with myself, and the Church has turned out to be one of my biggest assets on the rodeo circuit. I have been the subject of a lot of publicity because I am different. Writers casually mention that I am a Mormon cowboy and then go on to explain some of our beliefs. There are a lot of good Catholics and Methodists and other religions represented on the circuit, but their religions never seem to be mentioned.”

When I was a new ninth-grade high school student, my English teacher announced that we were going to watch a movie as part of our study of Shakespeare and his works. She told us the movie was R-rated and asked if anyone had any objections. I built up the courage to raise my hand and told my teacher that I did not watch R-rated movies. My face felt like it was about to burst and my whole body felt like it was sweating, but inside I knew I had done the right thing. My objection seemed to silence the class, and I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
Later, my teacher questioned me further on the subject, and I told her that I would not watch the movie. My teacher left it up to me to choose between watching the movie she selected or accepting a lower grade for the assignment.
On the day before the movie was scheduled to be shown, I thought I was going to have to walk out of class and take the grade penalty. When my teacher announced that she had decided to show a different version of the movie, I felt relieved. There was plenty of moaning and whining from many of the students because of the change in plans. I thought everyone would be mad at me.
Instead, the students quickly quieted down, and my friends called me over to sit with them. Their support made me feel great. After class, I thanked my teacher for her decision to show an appropriate version of the movie.
I’m thankful for the standards of the Church. I know that when we keep high standards, we can make a difference in the world in our own small ways.

Standing as a witness for the truth of the gospel and the Church can be a challenge. I once felt forced into a situation that was against Heavenly Father’s commandments. I now know why teenagers’ dating relationships should be kept on a just-friends basis.
There was a young man I cared about very much, but he felt that the ways of the world were more important than God’s ways. I was faced with the statement, “If you love me, you’ll do it.” How cold. How cruel. How different that trap of Satan sounds when compared to the statement of One who really loves us: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
So, like Joseph of old, I ran away from the situation, never to return (see Gen. 39:7–13). Even though I know I contributed to that situation, I am so thankful I decided to stand as a witness for what I know is right, true, and good.

In fact, God will do more than what is best for us. He will do what is best for us and for all of our Heavenly Father’s children. The conviction that the Lord knows more than we do and that he will answer our prayers in the way that is best for us and for all of his other children is a vital ingredient of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. This important reality is beautifully described in an experience recorded in Elder John H. Groberg’s recent book, In the Eye of the Storm. He describes a lesson he learned as a young missionary traveling on a sailboat in the Tongan islands.
“We would always pray for protection, success, and good seas and wind to take us to our destination. Once I asked the Lord to bless us with a good tail wind so we could get to Foa quickly. As we got under way, one of the older men said, ‘Elder Groberg, you need to modify your prayers a little.’
“‘How’s that?’ I replied.
“‘You asked the Lord for a tail wind to take us rapidly to Foa. If you pray for a tail wind to Foa, what about the people who are trying to come from Foa to Pangai? They are good people, and you are praying against them. Just pray for a good wind, not a tail wind.’
“That taught me something important. Sometimes we pray for things that will benefit us but may hurt others. We may pray for a particular type of weather, or to preserve someone’s life, when that answer to our prayer may hurt someone else. That’s why we must always pray in faith, because we can’t have true, God-given faith in something that is not according to His will. If it’s according to His will, all parties will benefit. I learned to pray for a good wind and the ability to get there safely, not necessarily a tail wind” (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1993, p. 175).

It took one year to build concrete steps down a volcanic cliffside to the swimming hole and the beautiful waterfall below. Four boys worked on this project. They had two picks, two crowbars, and one sledgehammer, and they worked every night after school and every Saturday for six months. Little by little, they chipped the rock away until they had a pathway wide enough to support some concrete clear to the bottom of the waterfall. It took them another six months of backbreaking labor to make the steps. They hauled sand from the beach in an old pickup truck. They added cement and took gravel from the river and mixed the concrete by hand in a shallow pocket hollowed out of a large stone. Then they shoveled the wet concrete into buckets and lowered them down the cliff with ropes attached to a long bamboo pole. One step at a time they worked until the trail was completed.

The Liahona (Spanish) helped bring about a complete change in my life. Prior to my baptism into the LDS church 15 years ago, I was a practicing Catholic. I was active in that church’s lay organization, serving at the national level and representing the organization at many international conventions.
My two sons, Jaime and Bernardo, were the first family members to make contact with the Church. They tried to discuss its teachings with me on several occasions, but, indignantly, I said I was not about to change my religion.
One day, out of curiosity, I picked up a copy of the Liahona that they left on a table. As I read the first article, by President Spencer W. Kimball, I felt as though I had been touched by a ray of light. His message gave me something I had hungered for all my life. Within a week, I met with the missionaries, and I was later baptized by my son, Jaime (now a bishop).
My wife has not chosen to be baptized yet. However, she supports me and loves the local church members. Patiently, I wait for the day when we can be sealed together in the temple.
Reading my first Liahona those many years ago not only brought change in my life, it also brought peace in my heart.
Jaime Rey GalvisAlhambra Ward, Bogotá Colombia Stake

These three youth from the Edmond Third Ward in Stillwater, Oklahoma, are “crazy-good” wake boarders. Last summer Rachel Orgill, Ashley Merkley, and Isaac Cordy entered the Oklahoma City River Wakeboarding tournament. Just to let everyone know who they were and what they stood for, they made a big poster and individual T-shirts declaring themselves the “Stormin’ Mormons.”
They had a great time competing on Saturday, and to their surprise, each one made the tournament finals in their divisions. The problem was, the finals were on Sunday. Without hesitation, all three notified the event coordinators that they would not be competing in the finals because they would be observing the Sabbath. The coordinators were surprised the youth were willing to pay to enter the tournament and now were giving up sure prizes and placements as finalists.
The three friends had the opportunity to explain their decision to many in the crowd and to the other competitors, who overwhelmingly thought it was “cool” that their convictions were more important to them than winning.

I have a sweet friend who some time ago found herself in such a state. I do not know, nor need I know, what her problem was, but she did summon the courage to go tearfully to her bishop to confess. A Church court was held. She was excommunicated and began the difficult process of repentance. Quite a long time later, after the spiritual healing had taken place and at the time of her baptism, she expressed great appreciation to a bishop who had shed tears of caring for her, even while being firm in the steps that must be taken; to a dear friend in Relief Society, who, she said, had helped her “to understand and forgive all those who couldn’t understand or forgive” her; to those who had helped to keep her testimony strong in those quiet, desperate times when “coming home again” seemed nearly impossible.

I recently had a note from this friend, married now in the temple with a lovely family. She says, “Tell the sisters that it is all worth it. Tell them how beautiful and joyful life can be when you keep the commandments.”

Over on the other side of the camp, teamwork was fully evident as Scouts from the New Orleans Louisiana Stake organized themselves for a firebuilding contest. One team member struck a match as others huddled around to shelter it from the wind. Another Scout raced to a pile of straw to gather fuel, rushed back, and as the initial flame leaped up, carefully nourished it. A string scorched, blackened, untwisted, broke, and a water balloon tumbled down, dousing the fire. “You have to know what each person is going to do before you start,” advised Paul Seager, 15, of the West Bank Ward. “But it feels great when you see what you can do.”

Rosalene grew up as the youngest child in a large family in Enterprise, a small community in Southern Utah, USA. She had many opportunities to witness the power of faith in Jesus Christ during her years at home and on her mission. After marrying in the temple, Rosalene embarked on a testimony-stretching journey of her own when her husband started a career that would take her farther and farther from home.
After moving to the state of Colorado, Rosalene watched from afar as her mother battled cancer until passing away a few years later.
Images from stock.adobe.com and from Getty Images
“I could have been happy to live in my hometown next to my parents my entire life,” she says. “It broke my heart when I had to grow up and move away. Losing my mom was life-shattering. Even now, not a single day goes by that I don’t miss her.
“I have to believe that there were days when Elizabeth missed her home desperately. But she believed in Jesus Christ and allowed His power to work in her life. That was enough to carry her through. The same power has helped me as I rely on my Heavenly Father for strength, whether or not my earthly family is close by.”

The Toit Rouge Stake Presidency of Abidjan, Cote D’Ivoire, launched a cultural event known as Culturama in August 2018 at the Toit Rouge Stake Center. The organizing committee comprised the stake presidency, bishoprics and stake officers.
Elder Dekaye, Area Seventy, was present and presided over the launch of the ceremony. In his opening remarks, Brother Konan Amani Aime Christian, second counselor in the stake presidency and president of the organising committee said the objective is to “bring all members together on one hand and unite members and leaders on the other hand.”
A member of the organizing staff, Brother Zoh Didier, said that Culturama is a set of wholesome games and entertainment that includes cultural activities, sports, board games and Scripture knowledge and Church History Competition. He added that this program will take place throughout the vacations and will bring together all seven wards in the stake.
Elder Dekaye congratulated the initiative and organization of such a cultural event within a stake. He also helped the congregation to see the link between Moses 1:39 and Culturama. He then encouraged everyone not to procrastinate what we can do now, but rather to take actions like these and rejoice, because that is the purpose of life. He said that we can do this by using the “five-­second” technique, that is, counting to five and getting up to do what we have to do. “In this way, we will overcome everything in life and accomplish greater things.” After that, he asked the whole congregation to stand up and practice this right away. Everyone got up and shouted for joy as they jumped after five seconds. Finally, he encouraged everyone to continue to socialize in Zion, after which he officially opened the event.
To close the ceremony, there was a parade of all the seven wards on the podium, each with its own flag and logo and the presentation of the different trophies and medals.
The first competitions began on the same August 4 after the opening ceremony and continued every Wednesday and Saturday until September 15, 2018, the day of the final contests and the closing ceremony of the first Culturama.
On that day, both members and investigators in the stake, as well as members of other stakes, rushed to the stake center at 8 a.m. to attend the final contests in the various disciplines.
Before starting the competitions, the stake president took the opportunity to congratulate all the members for their mobilization in the first edition of Culturama. He then encouraged the ward leaders and everyone to be more involved for the upcoming year. He pleaded for fair play and tolerance during the competitions.
There was joy and enthusiasm on everyone’s face. There were all age groups: children, youth and adults as well as the elderly. Some were dancing, while others came to support their various wards that qualified for the final. The first competitions of the day were basketball, athletics, and football.
At the end of the ceremony, everyone was really happy to meet again, and we could see the unity and closeness the Toit Rouge Stake Presidency had hoped for.
Finalists and winners of the various Culturama 2018 competitions:
Basketball (Nouveau Quartier 1st Vs Attecoube): winner ? Attecoube
Athletics 4 x 100 m relays (Nouveau Quartier 2nd, Attecoube, Sante, Abobodoume): winner ? Nouveau Quartier 2nd
Athletics 100 m sprint (Sante, Attecoube, Toit Rouge 1st, Nouveau Quartier 2) : winner ? Sante
Football ( Nouveau Quartier 2nd Vs Kote): winner ? Kote
Scrabble (Attecoube Vs Sante): winner ? Attecoube
Draughts (Toit Rouge 1st Vs Sante): winner ? Sante
Awale (Attecoube Vs Sante): winner ? Sante
Scripture and Church History (Toit Rouge 1st Vs Attecoube): winner ? Toit Rouge 1st
Choir Competition (All Wards): winner ? Toit Rouge 1st