Gospel Story Finder

Life is a wonderful adventure, and working with the Primary children has brought back into my life a renewed enthusiasm for living. Children have a simple way of dealing with life. It is an approach that should not be lost. A child learns most when he or she is taught how to apply a moral teaching. Let me share with you an experience of my childhood. It made one of the ten commandments forever a part of my life. I speak of the commandment, “Thou shalt not steal.” As a little girl, I worked in a small grocery store that my father owned and operated. One day while I was stocking the shelves, I noticed some little candies called “Guess-What’s” on the counter. There was penny candy on the counter every day, but on this day which I shall never forget, I found myself wanting to have one of those little “Guess-What’s,” but I had no penny to pay for it. Somehow the wanting got the best of me, and although I knew it was not right, I picked up one of those little tempting candies and walked away. I cannot tell you how dreadful I felt. I knew I had done something wrong. I knew that ‘because I was nine years old’ my baptism would not cancel out this wrong deed. I felt terrible. I made up my mind I would never, ever take anything again which did not belong to me. I had been taught about honesty, and in that moment the Spirit confirmed the truth of that teaching by the terrible, disquieting spirit which raged within me as I violated that law. Children learn very rapidly, and what they experience stays with them a very long time.

“Doctor Evans, we’re ready for you to begin.”
Justin looked down at the man on the operating table. There was a line drawn on the man’s stomach. Justin was wearing a surgical robe and a mask. There were rubber gloves on his hands. Nurses and others in green surgical gowns were all waiting for him to begin the operation.
There was, however, one tiny problem—Justin was 15 years old and didn’t know anything about surgery.
“So what do I do, just cut on the dotted line?” he joked.
Nobody laughed. “Doctor, we need to begin right away,” the woman next to him said.
“Doctor Sanchez is right,” a man said. “We need to begin right away.”
“Let’s see, I guess we need some kind of a knife or something.”
A nurse shoved a scalpel in his hand. Justin looked down at the stomach. He cleared his throat. “Give me a hint here, should I slice this guy deep or shallow?”
“Are you all right?” the woman they called Doctor Sanchez asked.
“Is this guy going to bleed a lot if I cut him open? I really can’t stand the sight of blood.”
“Would you like me to take over?” Doctor Sanchez said.
“Yes, please.”
The woman traded places, took up the scalpel, and cut along the line on the man’s stomach.
“Oh, gross,” Justin said a few minutes later upon seeing for the first time the exposed inside of the man. But after a while he got used to it.
After the operation as he removed the surgical gloves and gowns, Doctor Sanchez came over to him. “You and your practical jokes,” she said. “For a moment there it sounded like you didn’t know anything about what was going on.”
Justin smiled. “Yeah, right.”
A nurse came in the room. “Dr. Evans, your wife called.”
“I have a wife?” he blurted out.
Everyone in the room smiled.
“She left a number for you to call. She said it was important.”
He went to a phone and dialed the number. A woman answered.
“This is Justin.”
“Listen, I need to ask you something. Did you send in the house payment last month?”
“Do we own a house?”
“The bank called to say they haven’t got our payment yet.”
“I know I’m married to you, but could you tell me your name once again. I guess I’ve forgotten it. You know how I am with names.”
“Justin, this is no time for games. The deadline for Howard to enter the race for city commission is Thursday. He needs to know what you did with the petitions you handled for him.
“What color hair do you have? And when did we meet each other?”
There was a long pause, and then she said, “All right, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m 15 years old, and I’m not a doctor, and I’m not married, and I don’t have any idea who you are or who Howard is or what petitions you’re talking about. Basically that’s it.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“How will I recognize you?”
“I’ll come to your office.”
“I have an office then, right?” he asked. Saying good-bye, he hung up and walked the halls until he found a door with his name on it. He stepped inside and sat behind the desk and tried to figure out what was going on.
A few minutes later someone knocked on the door. He opened the door and let her in. It was a woman.
“Are you my wife?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“How nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Lori.”
“Lori, can you help me? I seem to be having a bad day. I don’t belong here. You know what I think? I think this whole thing is a dream.”
“You mean, here, right now, even me?”
“Yes, that’s what I think.”
“Why don’t you wake up then, if it’s just a dream?”
“I don’t know how to make myself wake up.”
“Pinch yourself.”
He pinched himself. Nothing happened.
“It must not be a dream then,” she said.
“But maybe I only dreamed I pinched myself, and it really is a dream.”
“If it is a dream, it’ll end soon, and you can get on with your life.”
“Maybe so. While you’re here, can I ask a few questions before this ends? On the phone you kept talking about mortgage payments and some kind of a petition for Howard.” He paused. “I guess the main thing I want to know is if being grown up is any fun at all?”
“Most of the time it is. Especially if you prepare for it when you’re young.”
“How do you prepare for it?”
“You make goals of what you want out of life. Then you work to achieve those goals.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Not really. Do you know what you always tell me?”
“To have pizza for supper more often?”
“Yeah, that too, but also you say, ‘If you can dream it, if you can plan it, if you can work hard for it, you can achieve it.’”
He smiled. “I say that? Sounds good.” He looked at her more closely. “Where did we get married?”
“In the temple.”
“That’s good, isn’t it? I’m glad we did.”
“The reason it happened is that when we were both young, even though we didn’t know each other, we both decided to plan for a temple marriage.”
“When you’re 15, like I am now, it’s kind of hard to think about planning for something that’s years away.”
“The tallest buildings have the deepest foundations.”
“Do I say that too sometimes?”
“No, I do,” she said with a smile.
“You’re smart, aren’t you? And attractive.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s been nice to meet you. Thanks for talking to me. Do we have kids?”
“Yes. Two with one on the way.”
“You’re pregnant now? It doesn’t show.”
“It will,” she put her hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
“No, I think I’ll just hang around here until I wake up from my dream, and then I’ll be 15 for real, and I’ll go on with my life.”
“Don’t forget to prepare for the future. It’s kind of important to me because I’m in your future. I’ll be doing some preparing too.”
“Should we kiss or something?” he said as she got ready to leave.
And then he woke up.
Doctor Sanchez was standing in the doorway. “Doctor Evans, we’re ready for you to begin the operation now.”
He stood up and looked around his office. “I must have dozed off. I had the strangest dream.”
“You’ve been working very hard lately. Oh, your wife called. She said Howard needs the petitions.”
“I’ll call him after the operation.”
Minutes later he stared down at the exposed stomach of a man on the operating table.
“Let’s see now. I just cut along the dotted line, right?”
Once again, nobody laughed.

One night five-year-old Jenna sat on the living room floor, combing her doll’s hair. Her dad sat in his chair, reading the newspaper. When Jenna looked up, she saw a picture in the newspaper of a girl about her own age. The girl had curly black hair, her face was smudged with dirt, and her clothes were torn. The girl looked very sad.
“Why does that girl in the newspaper look so sad, Daddy?” Jenna asked as she pointed at the picture.
“Well,” said Dad, “let’s read the story about her. She lives far away in a country where the people are fighting a war. Because of the fighting, she and her family had to leave their home and are looking for a new place to live. Many of the people there don’t have shoes or clean clothes or even enough food to eat.”
“That would make me sad, too,” said Jenna. She sat staring at the picture for a long time. Then she quietly went to her closet and pulled out her suitcase, opened it, and started to put things inside: a pair of shoes, a can of soup, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a storybook, and a pretty blue dress. Jenna carefully looked over her many dolls and chose one she thought that the girl in the picture might like. Then she wrapped the doll in a pink baby blanket and tucked it inside too.
After she closed and latched the suitcase, she pushed and pulled it until she reached her dad. As she stopped in front of him, he peeked over the edge of the newspaper. “Are you going someplace, Jenna?”
“No, Daddy,” she replied. “We need to send these things to the girl in the newspaper. I put in some food and shoes, a book, and even one of my dolls. Let’s send it tonight so the girl won’t be sad for even one more day!”
Dad put down the paper, picked Jenna up, and gave her a great big hug. Then he said, “Oh, Jenna, I’m proud of you for being so willing to help. But I don’t know where to send your suitcase of wonderful gifts. I don’t know this girl’s name, and she doesn’t have a home, so I don’t know how to find her.”
Now it was Jenna who was sad. She sat very still, thinking about what her dad had said.
Then Dad had an idea. “We could take your gifts to the homeless shelter. I’m sure some little girl right here in our town would appreciate them too. What do you think?”
Jenna thought about what her dad had told her. “OK, Daddy. But I still wish I could help the girl in the newspaper.”
Later that night, when Jenna was ready to go to bed, she picked up her doll and said, “I know something I can do for that sad girl tonight. I can pray for her.”
She knelt by her bed and prayed, “Father in Heaven, please bless the girl who is far away that she will have food and a new home and a new doll. But most of all, help her to know that she has a new friend far away and that I love her. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
Jenna climbed into bed and snuggled under her quilt. Being able to help someone made her feel warm inside, and praying for that someone made her feel happy.

Amanda was quiet on the way home from church. When Mom asked her if something was wrong, Amanda started crying and tried to say, “I don’t want to go to church anymore!” Her words came out all wrong, but Mother understood.
Amanda couldn’t hear very well, so the sounds she made when she talked weren’t always correct. Most of the time it didn’t bother her.
But today had been different; her feelings had been hurt. Even now, she could feel the embarrassment making her cheeks red and her ears ring. There was no way around it—she couldn’t go back to church again.
At home, Amanda told Mom what had happened. She had been asked to say the closing prayer in sharing time. She had gotten nervous. She’d spoken too fast and said “Zesus” instead of “Jesus.” As soon as she said it, Amanda knew it had come out wrong; but worse, everyone else seemed to notice too. Many of the children laughed. Some even teased her afterward and called her a baby. They said they’d never heard of “Zesus” before.
“It’s not fair!” Amanda shouted. “They were mean, and I don’t want to go back.”
“It’s tough being different, isn’t it?” Mom asked as she held Amanda close.
“I’m not just different. They said I’m stupid!”
“Let me ask you something, Amanda: Do you love Jesus?”
Amanda nodded yes.
“Do you believe that our church is His true Church?”
Again, Amanda nodded.
“Do you think Jesus loves you and is happy when you go to His Church?”
Now Amanda wasn’t so sure. “How can it make Jesus happy for me to be laughed at when I go to church?” she asked.
“Jesus doesn’t want you to be unhappy at church, but when you go you learn more about how much He loves you,” Mom said. “You learn how He sees you. Then, you can learn how He sees others.”
Amanda thought about what her mother had said. After she prayed that night, she remembered part of a verse from 1 Samuel that her dad had taught her: “The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”*
Amanda knew that Jesus didn’t care about things that seemed different to other people. He walked and talked with people whom others teased and didn’t like. Sometimes even His Apostles didn’t understand, but Jesus taught how to love everyone. He was even nice to people who weren’t nice to Him.
“Is Mom right?” Amanda wondered. “Can I learn to see others the way Jesus sees them?”
All week Amanda practiced remembering how special she was to Jesus and Heavenly Father. She looked for people around her who seemed to have a problem. Instead of thinking about the problem, she tried to think of Jesus and what He would see in that person.
Sometimes it was easy. Other times Amanda couldn’t see much, but when she really tried, she got a warm feeling inside that told her Jesus loved each person. Every time she got that warm feeling she remembered she was loved too.
On Sunday, Amanda went to church with her family. When she saw the children who teased her, she still felt a little angry and hurt. She wasn’t sure if she could find anything that caused them problems, but she wanted to try. As Amanda watched, one boy accidentally tripped and dropped his books. Amanda wanted to join in the laughter of the other children, but suddenly the warm feeling came again. She knew that Jesus loved him and she could too. Amanda handed the boy his scriptures and smiled at him. It was a wonderful feeling.
After church Amanda was quiet again. This time when Mom asked what was wrong, Amanda said, “I was just thinking how good it feels to try to see what Jesus sees.”
“Be that kind of friend and that kind of person who lifts and strengthens others.”Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “Gifts of the Spirit,” Ensign, Feb. 2002, 20.

Blending in isn’t always easy when you’re one of only a handful of Latter-day Saint kids in a high school of 2,000, but I managed somehow. I grew up mostly quiet, content to go with the flow and see where life took me rather than firmly planting my feet on any convictions. At 17 I knew I was nearing the precipice of big life changes, but I didn’t know how to commit to any direction. People often smiled knowingly at me, kindly telling me that I had it made and had the world at my fingertips. But I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure of anything, because I still wasn’t sure who I was.
No one from the outside looking in would have known how little confidence I had in myself. I did a good job of hiding it. Though I was quiet and hardly popular, I still played on two sports teams, participated in several clubs, and sat securely at the top of my class academically. I enjoyed Church activities and seminary. I seldom realized how truly at peace I felt during those early mornings before school, poring over my scriptures before the chaos of the world set in. But the chaos always came. Though I smiled and laughed in the school hallways, none of those things seemed to really matter—I wasn’t happy. It’s hard to be truly happy when the very essence of your being is a mystery to you. I knew I was a child of God, but so was everyone else. Did I really matter in the big picture? Was I willing to put the gospel principles I’d always been taught at the center of my life and face whatever questions or mockery might arise? Who was I, really? Instead of having enough faith in myself to find the answers, I chose to almost fade away.
Just before my junior year ended, a small thing happened that would change all that. I decided to throw an after-school job into the mix of my already busy schedule, and I was very nervous about it. Working retail, I had to approach strangers and ask how I might help them, which was a daunting task for someone as shy as I was. With practice, however, I eventually came out of my shell and no longer felt butterflies each time I approached a customer. One evening just before closing I found myself helping a young man who had recently had his hair buzzed off. My town was home to a couple of military bases, and it was not uncommon to see young men with freshly-shaven heads.
After we found the item the young man was looking for, we walked to the counter so he could pay for it. As he opened his wallet, I noticed on his finger a shiny silver ring with a familiar design. I smiled at the sight of it, thrilled as always to discover another member of the Church in a place where we were so few.
“Are you LDS?” I asked, gesturing toward the CTR ring.
The young man froze, almost flinched, and his eyes then snapped up quickly to mine as though to analyze the meaning behind my words. After a moment I remembered that the young LDS marines often had it rough trying to find their place in a new town and lifestyle. I had heard stories of new LDS recruits and how hard it was to stand strong when surrounded by things a Latter-day Saint would find demoralizing. Drinking, profanity, and immorality were common, and more than one recruit suffered his share of scorn and ridicule for choosing not to participate. Did this young man think I was going to mock him or that he was going to have to go on the defensive?
His hands shook almost imperceptibly, and he stood silent. It was obvious that during those few prolonged seconds, he was making some kind of decision. At last he lifted his head and straightened to his full height, and when he spoke, a resounding conviction flooded his countenance while an undeniable light shone in his eyes.
“Yes.”
One word was all he said, but that single word meant so much. In that moment, he seemed to know who he was and what his life was all about. The example of a stranger, a young man I had never seen before, stays in my mind to this day. Whenever I feel lost, alone, or uncertain, I pose to myself the same question I so casually asked that young man at the check-out counter: Are You LDS?
Yes.
I am a child of god. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I am a Latter-day Saint. I serve the Lord, and I am neither frightened nor ashamed. I know who I am, without a doubt. This was a small moment that changed my life. There are moments like this in everyone’s life—moments that help define you and put everything into focus. Some are monumental and easy to recognize, but many more are small, subtle, and unexpected.

Grandma and Grandpa had always loved Hawaii so deeply that they vowed to share their experiences with their family. It was in this final year of her life that Grandpa insisted that we take this trip as an entire family (over 30 people) to Hawaii. One of their sons with his family was serving a mission at the time. The rest of us said we could wait until they returned home from their mission in the coming year, but Grandpa was determined that we had to go immediately. Only he knew the seriousness of Grandma’s illness, so he insisted that we take the trip quickly, though we did not know why. Grandma died several months after we returned from that family trip to Hawaii.

“I believe my first experience in having the courage of my convictions took place when I served in the United States Navy near the end of World War II. …
“I shall ever remember when Sunday rolled around after the first week [of boot camp]. We received welcome news from the chief petty officer. Standing at attention on the drill ground in a brisk California breeze, we heard his command: ‘Today everybody goes to church—everybody, that is, except for me. I am going to relax!’ Then he shouted, ‘All of you Catholics, you meet in Camp Decatur—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ A rather sizeable contingent moved out. Then he barked out his next command: ‘Those of you who are Jewish, you meet in Camp Henry—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ A somewhat smaller contingent marched out. Then he said, ‘The rest of you Protestants, you meet in the theaters at Camp Farragut—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’
“Instantly there flashed through my mind the thought, ‘Monson, you are not a Catholic; you are not a Jew; you are not a Protestant. You are a Mormon, so you just stand here!’ I can assure you that I felt completely alone. Courageous and determined, yes—but alone.
“And then I heard the sweetest words I ever heard that chief petty officer utter. He looked in my direction and asked, ‘And just what do you guys call yourselves?’ Until that very moment I had not realized that anyone was standing beside me or behind me on the drill ground. Almost in unison, each of us replied, ‘Mormons!’ It is difficult to describe the joy that filled my heart as I turned around and saw a handful of other sailors.
“The chief petty officer scratched his head in an expression of puzzlement but finally said, ‘Well, you guys go find somewhere to meet. And don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!’ …
“Although the experience turned out differently from what I had expected, I had been willing to stand alone, had such been necessary.
“Since that day, there have been times when there was no one standing behind me and so I did stand alone. How grateful I am that I made the decision long ago to remain strong and true, always prepared and ready to defend my religion.”

It had been a long, hard day at work, and I was exhausted. I could hardly wait to get home, kick off my shoes, slump on the couch, and relax to the soothing beat of my favorite album.
With this appealing thought in mind, I climbed the porch steps and opened the front door. To my surprise, I found not the serenity I’d expected but rather the third world war in progress. As you may have guessed if you have any of your own, my mischievous little brothers were acting as the two opposing generals.
I was just in time to hear Kurt scream, “Give it back! That’s mine!” This was countered with Todd’s sassy, “If you don’t give it here, I’ll tell mom.” Kurt merely shrugged his shoulders and said, “Go ahead, crybaby. You don’t scare me.”
I was just about to intervene, when suddenly the object in dispute came sailing across the living room floor and landed right on top of my poor aching feet. Unable to check my anger, I lurched forward and grabbed Todd, the closest one to me. I was considering strangulation, which I thought would be the perfect cure, when more casually walked into the room.
Being terribly wound up by this time, I vented all my day’s frustrations on her. In a rather aggravated tone of voice I said, “Can’t you do something with these rotten boys? They’re mean and spiteful, and they’ve just made a perfectly awful day worse!” With that I turned and stormed off toward my bedroom, not noticing my mother’s disapproving glance or the hurt look on my brothers’ faces.
Once within the safe confines of my own room, I locked the door and proceeded to remove my shoes and socks and stretch out on the bed. I guess it was then that I noticed my journal resting haphazardly on my vanity. Not feeling like doing anything too strenuous, I decided to pick it up and browse through a few old memories. I suppose it was luck or maybe even a little heavenly guidance that caused the pages to fall open to page 25. Not that page 25 looked so spectacular, but the contents were just what I needed. The entry began something like this:
Dear Diary,
April 27th will always be a memorable day for me, not only because it marks the end of my first year at Ricks College, but also because it marks the beginning of a summer at home with my family. I know it will be hard to say good-bye to all my special new friends, but it will be easier knowing I take with me increased strength, testimony, and love of the gospel because of all they’ve shared with me. I’ve set an important goal to share this knowledge with my family in hopes they too will want to share it with others. It is late now, and there will be much packing to do tomorrow, but I promise not to pack away this goal.
I continued to thumb through more of the pages, but the words were a blur and I was unable to concentrate on them. I was feeling very guilty for my earlier behavior and decided then and there to unpack that goal which had been in storage for too long.
Forgetting about my aching body, I slid my feet to the floor and quickly walked from my bedroom back to the living room. There I found my brothers pouting and looking somewhat out of sorts. I began by apologizing for my bad behavior, and to prove my sincerity, I offered to spend a whole day with each one individually, doing anything they wanted to do, within reason.
Todd, being the oldest, spoke up first and said he’d always wanted to pack a good lunch (potato chips, candy bars, and pop!) and then climb the mountain that had the high school’s letter “B” on it.
In my mind’s eye I pictured the distance and wondered what I’d gotten myself into. I had been thinking more along the line of an hour or two at the park, not a strenuous day climbing mountains. However, I’d given my word, so with all the courage I could muster, I told him I thought it was a great idea. Since the next day was my day off, we would be able to get an early start.
The bright morning sunshine popped into my room much sooner than I’d expected, and so did my brother Todd. He was dressed from head to foot and very eager to start the day’s activities. Seeing him, I rolled over and groaned, suggesting that maybe we should go some other time. He quickly reminded me that I’d promised we could go today. So while he packed the lunches, I got ready.
Before I knew it, we were on our way, with a perfectly beautiful summer’s day to accompany us. At first we walked and then we raced one another to the nearest lamp pole. We then tried to see who could skip the farthest. He won, of course.
The farther we went on our little journey, the more he began to open up to me. He mentioned some of his classmates and asked my advice on how to handle the school-yard bully. He talked a little about the family and how he felt he fit in. He even blushed when he told me I was the first to know that he had a girl friend and she was the cutest second grader around. I laughed and said his secret was safe with me. He then asked me if we could sing some Primary songs, which we did, until the terrain became so steep and bushy that it was all we could do just to climb and still breathe.
We were able to help one another by pushing and pulling, and before long we had scaled the mountain and stood on top of the large white-painted “B.” Both of us were huffing and puffing, and somehow our tiredness made everything seem terribly funny. We laughed over our soggy sandwiches and hot pop. Even the melted chocolate bars seemed somewhat hilarious.
When we no longer had energy to laugh, we composed ourselves and gazed over the beautiful valley below us. We marveled at the intricate handiwork of God. There was such a feeling of awe in our hearts that we felt it appropriate to kneel in prayer and thank our Heavenly Father for helping us to reach the mountaintop in safety.
Todd volunteered to offer the prayer, and afterwards I commented on what a good job he’d done and how much the Lord must love him. I asked him if he remembered earlier when we had been climbing and were so tired we felt we couldn’t go another step. He nodded and asked me if that wasn’t the reason we’d stopped and prayed for strength. I smiled in assurance and went on to explain that sometimes in everyday life we are given trials that seem even more difficult to climb than the mountain we sat on. But if we remember to always rely on the Lord’s strength, he will lift us and make the way possible for us to reach our goals. Having finally reached them, we will experience the same feeling of happiness that we felt when we’d reached the top of the mountain. Even though we won’t always see a big white “B” at the top of every trial we overcome, we will still feel a strength in our hearts. It will remind us that we can “B” anything we want to “B,” as long as we do it in righteousness.
At first I wasn’t sure if he had grasped the meaning of my symbolism. By the way he was bent over with his head in his hands, I supposed he hadn’t even listened to a word I’d said. So gently prodding, I asked, “Todd, did you understand what I was trying to say?” When he didn’t reply or even so much as flinch, I slowly lifted his head.
For a moment I was taken back when I saw the sweet humble tears rolling down his cheeks. I vowed then to never pack away my summer goal again.

As a New York boy, I grew up as one of only two or three members of the Church in a high school of several thousand. At a recent 50-year reunion, my former classmates remembered and expressed appreciation for how I had lived according to the values and beliefs of the Church. I realized then that one infraction of the Word of Wisdom or transgression of moral values would have meant I could never have said, “This is what I believe,” and be trusted by my friends.

We can only share the gospel to the extent we live it.

Now for the story. The Civil War began in the spring of 1861. By July of 1863, most of the major battles had been won by the South. General Robert E. Lee of the South felt that if he could take the war to the North and win another major battle, public opinion for the war would evaporate and the North would seek peace through surrender or compromise.

This major battle occurred in a small town in southeastern Pennsylvania called Gettysburg. Many major historians feel that if the North would have lost the battle, there would have been great pressure for the war to end and we would have had an America that was separated into North and South. Lincoln knew that the people of the North needed a major victory or support for the war would begin to fail.

Major Joshua Chamberlain commanded the 20th Maine volunteer regiment and was given the assignment to protect the flank of the Union line. The flank meant the side. They were to prevent the Confederates from going behind the Union lines and attacking from the rear. Had this happened, it would have been very bad for the North. Major Chamberlain was told to protect the flank at all cost. He had 386 men.

The Alabama regiment from the South had attacked the Maine regiment twice. Both sides suffered great losses. However, Major Chamberlain knew that his men were out of ammunition and could not withstand another attack.

What would you do if you knew you were out of ammunition and were sure to lose in the next encounter? Major Chamberlain shouted the command to “fix bayonets!” He then commanded his men to run downhill and charge the enemy.

Can you imagine how those men felt? Their hearts must have been pounding as they ran down the hill!

The charging Maine regiment caught the Confederates off guard as they were not expecting an attack and they were able to capture many of the members of the Alabama regiment.

Major Chamberlain’s charge saved the day, and many feel it saved the Union. He received the Congressional Medal of Honor; the highest military honor given for his quick thinking and bravery.

When I was about 14 years old, the Church celebrated the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Sunday School. I was one of 500 Sunday School students invited to sing in a choir for the Sunday School conference, which was held in the Tabernacle as part of general conference in April 1949. President George Albert Smith, President of the Church during that conference, showed the congregation a time capsule dealing with the event and containing items related to the history of the Sunday School. It contained a form of phonograph record made in the 1940s.
During the meeting, it was announced that the box would be opened in 50 years. I remember, as a boy in the choir in that meeting, thinking how I would love to be in attendance when that box was opened fifty years later. In 1999, I was in Salt Lake City, Utah, for general conference. During the training for the General Authorities, we were invited to attend a meeting at which that box was to be opened for the first time after fifty years of being sealed! It was exciting as a boy and as a man to have been part of those two milestones in the history of the Sunday School.

With so many boys in the family, the competition was sometimes less than brotherly. Chris and Matt, being close in age, suffered from it for a while. Anything Chris did, Matt tried to do better. It caused contention. Chris says, “Mom knew best. She had a talk with me. She said that God gave us all talents, and we can’t be better than someone else at everything. Then I realized that Matt has something in him that makes him better at some things. He has his talents, and I have mine. We need to share them and gain from each other and really enjoy watching each other do whatever. It might be soccer, band, sports, being outdoors, or giving service.”
When Chris watched Matt compete at state in the pole vault, the sport he had taught his younger brother, the disappointment at not being there himself lessened. He felt calm. “I was glad one of us made it and that it could be my brother.”

There is another little sign in President Kimball’s office. This one reads: “Don’t quit.” We are all going to have hardships and setbacks. But Heavenly Father will not give us a hardship that we cannot overcome. Behind many Olympic champions are stories of incredible hardships that had to be overcome. Just this past summer, many of us had the opportunity to see an American win his country’s first gold medal in Greco-Roman wrestling. We saw this big guy crying tears of joy as he stood on that victory stand. Just two years before, he had undergone a serious operation for a rare form of cancer. He never gave up. Now he is an Olympic champion.

Of all the experiences I enjoyed as a mission president, one of the most exciting was the glorious sight of seeing the missionaries baptize converts to the Church. To see those handsome young men lead the baptismal candidates into the water to perform that sacred ordinance always brought a lump to my throat and sent a thrill up my spine. The elders felt the same way about that privilege. One of my fine missionaries had been a very adventurous lad. He loved to rappel cliffs, hang glide, and parachute jump. He even joined an Army reserve unit which gave him regular opportunities to jump. When I asked him how he felt when he stood in the baptismal font with a convert, he replied: “It’s as exciting as jumping out of an airplane.”

I recall a few years ago seeing a drama enacted at the Salt Lake International Airport. On this particular day, I got off an airplane and walked into the terminal. It was immediately obvious that a missionary was coming home because the airport was full of conspicuous-looking missionary friends and missionary relatives.

I tried to pick out the immediate family members. There was a father who did not look particularly comfortable in an awkward-fitting and slightly out-of-fashion suit. He seemed to be a man of the soil, with a suntan and large, work-scarred hands.

There was a mother who was quite thin, looking as if she had worked very hard in her life. She had in her hand a handkerchief—and I think it must have been a linen handkerchief once, but now it looked like tissue paper. It was nearly shredded from the anticipation only the mother of a returning missionary could know.

Two or three younger brothers and sisters were running around, largely oblivious to the scene that was unfolding.

I found myself wondering as to who would be first to break away from the welcoming group. A look at the mother’s handkerchief convinced me that she would probably be the one.

As I sat there, I saw the returning missionary appear. I knew he was the one by the squeals of excitement from the crowd. He looked like Captain Moroni, clean and handsome and straight and tall. Undoubtedly he had known the sacrifice this mission had meant to his father and mother.

As he neared the group, sure enough, someone couldn’t wait any longer. It wasn’t the mother, and it wasn’t any of the children. It was Father. That big, slightly awkward, quiet, and bronzed giant of a man ran out and swept his son into his arms.

The missionary was probably 6?2? (188 cm) or so, but this big father grabbed him, lifted him off the ground, and held him for a long, long time. He just held him and said nothing. The boy put both arms around his dad, and they just held each other very tightly. It seemed like all eternity stood still. It was as if all the world had gone silent out of respect for such a sacred moment.

And then I thought of God the Eternal Father watching His Son go out to serve, to sacrifice when He didn’t have to do it, paying His own expenses, so to speak, costing everything He had saved all His life to give. At that precious moment, it was not too difficult to imagine that Father speaking with some emotion to those who could hear, “This is my Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17). And it was also possible to imagine that triumphant returning Son saying, “It is finished” (John 19:30). “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46).

Even in my limited imagination, I can see that reunion in the heavens. And I pray for one like it for you and for me. I pray for reconciliation and for forgiveness, for mercy, and for the Christian growth and Christian character we must develop if we are to enjoy such a moment fully.

I stand all amazed that even for a man like me, there is a chance. If I’ve heard the “good news” correctly, there really is a chance—for me and for you and for everyone who is willing to keep hoping and to keep trying and to allow others the same privilege.

I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine. …
I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
Such mercy, such love, and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet. …
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!5

During an interview while I served in an elders quorum presidency, I asked a fellow quorum member if he had ever felt and acted on a spiritual prompting. He thought for a moment and shared an experience.
One afternoon he was washing dishes when he received a strong impression to go knock on a neighbor’s door. He did not understand why, but the prompting was powerful and urgent. He stopped what he was doing and left right away.
He arrived at his neighbor’s door, not knowing what to do or say, and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. There was still no answer. Concluding that no one was home, he turned to leave but then felt another prompting.
He walked back to the door and simply said, “Sister, I love you.” Then he departed.
He thought this experience was unusual, and he felt a little embarrassed by it. I told him that the Lord does not always tell us the reasons for promptings, but we should never feel embarrassed for acting on them. This brother moved away shortly after our interview.
During a fast and testimony meeting a year later, a sister I did not know walked to the stand to bear her testimony. Through tears, she explained that she had been away from the Church for several years, and during that time she became so depressed that she felt she could not go on any longer.
“Heavenly Father, if You really exist and if You really love me,” she prayed, “tell me now so I understand!”
Almost immediately, she heard a knock on her door and then another. When she didn’t answer, she heard a voice say, “Sister, I love you.”
She said feelings of love overwhelmed her, and she found new strength to face her troubled life. She said things were still not great, but her life was improving.
I had no part in this experience, but I have still been blessed. I gained insight into how two seemingly unrelated acts of faith demonstrated that our Father in Heaven knows all of us, and He calls upon us to act on promptings to help His children. I am grateful for, and cherish, this knowledge.

There are those who are ready now, but there are not enough. I know of one lovely woman who is ready. She had been injured in the accident which took her husband’s life, leaving her a widow for the second time in her young life. She had not fully recovered from the mishap and had a family of young children to raise. Yet she paid tithing on the insurance settlement for her husband’s death. The clerk said to the bishop, “Sister So-and-so needs this money much more than the Church does. Don’t you think we should return it?”

The bishop asked me. I answered his question with a question: “What does Sister So-and-so need more than the blessings that come from paying tithing?” Imagine how the Lord will open the windows of heaven for this young mother because of her faith and devotion.

For example, a few years ago I was given an exciting job offer. But I was worried it would require me to work on Sundays. As I struggled to decide what to do, I prayed and fasted. I was filled with peace and was even prompted to ask the manager if I could have Sundays off. Without my childlike trust in Heavenly Father, I never would have had the courage to set such a condition, but the manager agreed. So, I began a new and exciting chapter.

After I started my job, challenges came. My hours became extremely hard on my family, and my manager grew frustrated with me. I began questioning the answer I’d received about accepting the job.

Heavenly Father is “a God of truth, and canst not lie” (Ether 3:12), so I assumed I didn’t understand His guidance, which made me wonder how many other promptings I had misunderstood. Then I remembered the words of Alma the Younger: “Experiment upon my words, and exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if [you] can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you” (Alma 32:27).

I had the desire to continue believing in Heavenly Father, so I chose to exercise faith and experiment upon His prompting for me to accept this job, and I pressed on.

Having the faith to finish my job contract also required faith like my daughter’s. I couldn’t see what lay ahead. But I kept moving forward with faith that Heavenly Father led me to my job for a reason. And that reason was eventually revealed.

On a quiet day at work, a coworker opened up to me about how when she had learned I was a member of the Church, she assumed I wouldn’t be any different than some contentious religious people from her past. She told me she had been moved by my respect and kindness for her and our other coworkers. We spent the next hours talking about faith and Jesus Christ.

She told me she wanted to believe in Him, and the Spirit swelled in my chest as I told her about the gospel.

I realized that she was one reason Heavenly Father had directed me to this job. It was a miracle.

As President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Miracles come according to your faith in the Lord. Central to that faith is trusting His will and timetable—how and when He will bless you with the miraculous help you desire. Only your unbelief will keep God from blessing you with miracles to move the mountains in your life.”1 When I exercised childlike faith in His prompting to take this job and finish my contract, Heavenly Father showed me His ability to bring forth miracles.

… There came into the office a while ago a man who wanted to take a car to his son in the mission field. He said, “My son is riding a bicycle and I am afraid he is going to get killed. Can I take a car to him?”
I said, “You can if the mission president feels he needs one.”
Correspondence went back and forth, and finally approval was given for the young man to have a car. The father came in after he had taken the car and said, “I’m proud of my boy in the field. We had never been very close when he was at home. There had always been something of a gulf between us. I want to tell you what happened.
“I drove a thousand miles to deliver the car to my son. I went to his place of lodging and rang the bell. He came to the door, and said, ‘Hello, Dad. Glad to see you. Is that the car? I’m late for a meeting. If you can come around at eight o’clock tonight down at such and such an address where we are having a baptismal service, maybe I’ll have a few minutes to visit with you.’
“I hadn’t seen him for sixteen months and that’s the kind of reception I got. I felt like getting in the car and driving back home. But I went out, had some dinner and took a little nap and thought better of it. I went to the hall where the baptismal service was held. My boy was the supervising elder of the district.
“I arrived late and sat on the back row. They had just finished the baptismal service and were having something of a testimony meeting. A man stood up and said, ‘I’m retired. I’ve made some money. I’ve traveled around the world. I thought I had seen everything and had everything. Then one day that young man who is sitting here came to my door. Time was heavy on my hands; I let him in; I listened to him. He intrigued me, and I listened again. He has brought something to me more wonderful than all I have ever seen or all I have ever known. And I want to bear testimony to the truth of what he brought, and before you people here, express gratitude of the Lord for having sent him to my door.’
“He was talking about my boy. I am not a sentimental sort of a man, but the tears began to roll off my cheeks. I’ve come closer to my boy in one day in the mission field than I came in twenty years at home. I have concluded to be a better man myself. I have changed my life so that I may be worthy of my son.”
Gordon B. Hinckley“The Consequences of Conversion,”BYU Speeches of the Year, January 28, 1959, pp. 3–4.

Enzio Busche’s original commitment to go to the ends of the earth in pursuit of truth met its test in 1977, while President Spencer W. Kimball was touring Poland and East Germany. Then a regional representative to the Quorum of the Twelve, Brother Busche served as translator for President Kimball at a meeting in Berlin, then met afterwards with Church leaders for refreshments in the Relief Society room. D. Arthur Haycock, the president’s personal secretary, asked Brother Busche to take an empty chair next to President Kimball. Because an educated German would never seek the company of a dignitary unless invited by that dignitary, Brother Busche ignored the suggestion. When Brother Busche declined a second time, Brother Haycock asked him more pointedly if he would please be so kind as to take the vacant seat. After exchanging greetings, President Kimball invited Brother Busche to join him in another room, where he extended the call to serve as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy.