Gospel Story Finder

Some of you may be familiar with Thornton Wilder’s classic drama Our Town. If you are, you will remember the town of Grover’s Corners, where the story takes place. In the play, Emily Webb dies in childbirth, and we read of the lonely grief of her young husband, George, left with their four-year-old son. Emily does not wish to rest in peace; she wants to experience again the joys of her life. She is granted the privilege of returning to earth and reliving her 12th birthday. At first it is exciting to be young again, but the excitement wears off quickly. The day holds no joy now that Emily knows what is in store for the future. It is unbearably painful to realize how unaware she had been of the meaning and wonder of life while she was alive. Before returning to her resting place, Emily laments, “Do … human beings ever realize life while they live it—every, every minute?”

Elizabeth Xavier was a well-educated young woman who enjoyed a life of ease as part of a wealthy, noble family in India. But life took a challenging turn in 1850 when she married William Tait, a regimental drill master in the British navy who had been baptized by Elder Parley P. Pratt in Scotland.
Illustration by Michael T. Malm
Elizabeth’s family deeply disapproved of her baptism. The stress of strained relationships was followed by the tragedy of losing her first son to cholera. Then, eight months pregnant but yearning to be with the Saints and become an eternal family, Elizabeth sent William and their second son off to prepare a home for their family in Zion.
After the baby was born, Elizabeth’s family begged her to forsake her husband and her religion and stay with them. But fixed in her determination to follow the Savior, she left her family and homeland forever, sailing for Liverpool, England.

I love the story our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, related about a conversation he had with his wife, Marjorie, on the eve of their wedding. He was anxious about the economic realities of their marriage. He had totaled his assets and realized that he had less than $150 and, even more alarming, that he made only $185 a month. Marjorie put his fears to rest. She replied that “she had hoped for a husband and now she found out she was getting $150 too. ‘This will work out wonderfully,’ she told him. ‘If you’ve got $150, we’re set.’” And, as you well know, they were.

A few weeks ago as a Stake, we were trained by Elder Auna of the Seventy and President Warner of the Honolulu, Hawaii Mission on “Hastening the Work of Salvation.” During the training, Elder Auna gave this advice on how he approaches others about the Church. He will meet someone for the first time, begin a conversation, and then ask them where they are from. When they say where they are from, he then says, “Oh, we have a church there.” Then, inevitably, they will ask, “Oh, what church is that?” Then the discussion begins and an invitation is extended.

Well Dave Fullmer, 1st Counselor in the Sunset Beach Branch, attended that training and decided to put Elder Auna’s advice to the test and follow the promptings of the Spirit.

While driving on the North Shore a few weeks ago, Dave picked up a couple of hitchhikers. They began with small talk until Dave asked, “Where are you from?” One of the two answered, “We’re from Honolulu.” Dave then said, “Oh, we have a church there.” Then according to Dave, there was uncomfortable silence for about 30 seconds. Then one of them asked, “What church is that?” From the discussion that then followed, it was learned that the young man who asked the question was baptized years ago and was lost, and he was now found by Brother Fullmer.

It had been an especially happy day for Milo. When his father and mother came in to say good-night to him, Milo tried to tell them about all the understandings he had gathered in the different countries they had visited.
“But now,” he said wistfully, “I guess all that will end when we go back home.”
“Oh no, Milo,” Father assured him. “As long as you have a sense of discovery and a desire to know more about other people, there will always be something to learn.”
Mother agreed. And then she added, “No matter where we live we can collect bits of knowledge and add to our understanding.”
Milo lay in bed thinking about the many things he had learned in the different Scandinavian countries. He would never forget his wonderful friends there.

When I started reading “When Thou Art Converted” in the March New Era, it sounded strangely familiar. I suddenly realized that the author was the same Elder Young who taught me the discussions while I worked for the Forest Service last summer in Swan Valley, Idaho.
My job and the Teton Dam disaster made for a really interesting summer, but the sincerity and care with which Elder Young taught me left the most memorable and cherished impression. He ended his mission before I finished the discussions, so I never really had the chance to thank him for the wonderful way he helped change my life and open up new horizons. I only wish he could have been there for my early-morning baptism in the Snake River so he could have witnessed one of the happiest fruits of his labors.
Carol KounanisWest Lafayette, Indiana

My standing here today is a miracle. I am humbled by this opportunity and pray for the Spirit to assist me as I address you today--that the Spirit will teach all of us according to our individual needs.

Exactly three years ago, my wife and I arrived at this university full of joy and dreams. It was quite an accomplishment to be finally accepted at BYU-Hawaii after three unsuccessful attempts. But, we soon realized that the journey was not going to be easy as we soon became aware of the challenges and difficulties ahead of us. The language barrier was obviously the primary one. It was literally impossible, at the time, for me to make a complete and correct sentence in English. We walked out of our first sacrament meeting asking ourselves if we were at the right place. Yet, three years later I am standing here at a campus devotional giving a talk in English! It is a miracle!

I would like to begin by honoring my dear wife. When we met 5 years ago, I was poor, alone, and my future was uncertain. All I had were my dreams and the desire to work hard to achieve them, but she willingly joined me in my eternal journey. I want her to know that I am grateful for her support, love, patience, and hard work. Without her, nothing would have been possible. She has been my faithful companion and partner every step of the way. To our 11-month-old son, I would like to say how much we are grateful to have him in our lives. He is a giant spirit, and the responsibility to raise him is both an honor and a privilege. We love him so very much.

My life is full with what the scriptures refer to as “the tender mercies of the Lord.”

I was born and raised in Cote D'Ivoire, West part of Africa. In the course of my life, I experienced what is called child slavery. After a family tragedy, I found myself working in cacao farms to survive. I began working when I was 6 years old and worked 10 hours a day clearing weeds with machetes, planting seeds, harvesting beans, and carrying heavy loads on my head and back. I did this for 6 years. It was a difficult and painful experience. Every day was the same. We learned to live each day as if it was our last. I eventually escaped and was able to have gone to school, met the missionaries, joined the Church, served a mission, and then was married in the House of the Lord. These blessings came because of so many “tender mercies of the Lord.”

“We were teaching Kim and Jan Smith, two teenage girls from River Falls, Wisconsin,” said Sister Lisa Anderson. “We were trying to explain the need for faith. We showed them a New Era story and I said, ‘This is about a teenage kid, just like you, and this is what she did.’ And I gave them the magazine to read, and they really liked it. I think it’s essential when you’re teaching teenagers that they can see kids their own age. It impressed them that there were real-life stories they could compare themselves to.”

Soon afterward, Kim and Jan were baptized.

My mom was collecting blankets and warm clothing to send to a refugee camp. She told me some children don’t have any blankets to keep warm. I found my favorite blanket, my “cloud blankie,” which is blue with clouds on it. I brought it to my mom and told her I wanted to donate it. She asked if I was sure, and I said yes. It was really hard for me to give up my favorite blanket. I knew I would miss it, but I did it anyway. I knew it would help another child.
Megan B., age 7, Ohio, USA

It was a cold January day when I was asked to serve as Young Women class president. It was my first year in the Young Women program, and though I was not expecting to be the class president, I was overjoyed. I smiled and nodded.
I was then told to start praying about who my counselors should be.
My happiness quickly melted into worry. I worried that I would choose the wrong people, or even worse, that I wouldn’t be able to decide at all!
Later that night, I told my mom I was worried I wouldn’t be able to make a decision. She told me to go to my room, say a prayer, and read a few verses from the Book of Mormon.
I went to my room, still worried. I said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help me make the right decision. Then I opened the scriptures to where I had left off and read the first verse I saw. It said: “And Christ hath said: If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me” (Moroni 7:33).
Once I had read that verse, I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer. He was aware of me and wanted to help me. All I had to do was put my faith in Him, and He would help me know what to do.
I know that God is aware of us and that He will help us if we are willing to put our faith in Him.

Another commitment to follow the pattern during those college years was to actively be involved in home evening group meetings and activities. I can tell you that habit had a direct positive impact on my life and the lives of my children—literally. It was in my home evening group that I found their dad—my true love. Where would our children be today if I had skipped out on home evening? Because I was following the pattern at that time in my life, I was also prepared to be sealed with him in the House of the Lord.

Let me share briefly with you a letter. …
“Dear Brother Dunn:
“Since having the chance to visit with you last month, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the things we discussed—the meaning of life, my goals for the future, my homesickness, and my efforts to adjust to being on my own, and I’ve felt impressed to write and tell you some of these things. Here I am hundreds of miles away in a completely new environment, and I’ll admit I’ve been pretty down in the dumps at times, plenty homesick and wondering just what my next step would be. More than once I’d have given almost anything to be back at that kitchen table with the family, finishing off one of Mom’s good meals. I wouldn’t even have minded my folks wanting to know where I was going and when I’d be home—it used to really bug me but somehow now I’m glad they worried. I guess what I’m trying to write is that since being here I’m actually appreciating home and my folks in a different way then ever before. I’m grateful for the time that they’ve taken to worry about the little things, the talks we’ve been able to have about any crazy thing that was on my mind, the freedom I felt to go to them with my problems. It seems like they were always pretty fair about judging me when I made mistakes, too.
“I especially appreciate both Morn and Dad being so careful about living the principles of the gospel that they believed in and helping us to do the same. While there were times when I resented it, somehow it seems much easier now for me to discipline myself, to stick to what I should do in organizing my time, thinking, and life.
“I appreciate, too, the companionship we had as the whole family—the night each week we got together to talk about family problems and what we did about them, the times we went fishing together, prayed together, the get-togethers with cousins—mostly the things I guess I have taken for granted all of my life. Somehow, as ordinary as all of these everyday experiences are, thinking about them actually gives me the faith and courage I need right now when I’ve got so much adjusting to do and so many things to accomplish. I seem to have a new desire to live up to the things my folks have been trying to prepare me for all of these years. In some ways, even though I miss home, thinking out these things makes me feel better than I ever have before. I know I have lots to do, and I want to do it. And realizing that my family is behind me as they always have been gives me the strength I need and didn’t know I had. Unfortunately, I have seen some out here whose home life has not been like mine, and now I understand better the value of the training I’ve had. Thanks for getting me started thinking—I just hope my parents can know how much the stability of our home has meant to me, and how very much I love them.”
There is no question that this kind of boy coming from this type of home is going to give strength to this or any nation.
Paul H. DunnConference ReportOctober 1965, p. 117.

Six priests from Long Beach Seventh Ward, California, representing over 80 percent of their quorum, received their Duty to God awards and became licensed scuba divers during last year. Scott Taylor, Steve Burt, Lee Johnson, Jim Daniels, Jeff Burt, and Daril Johnson received training and experience through their Explorer post that enabled them to pass the requirements for scuba divers’ licenses. As a result they have been bringing home lobsters, crab, and other delicacies from the southern California coast.

Once I had a treasured friend, Hyrum Adams, who seemed to experience more of life’s troubles and frustrations than he could bear. Finally he lay in the hospital, terminally ill. I knew not that he was there.
Sister Monson and I had gone to that same hospital to visit another person who was very ill. As we exited the hospital and proceeded to where our car was parked, I felt the distinct impression to return and ask whether Hyrum Adams might be a patient there. Long years before, I had learned never, never, to postpone a prompting from the Lord. It was late, but a check with the desk clerk confirmed that indeed Hyrum was a patient.
We proceeded to his room, knocked on the door, and opened it. We were not prepared for the sight that awaited us. Balloon bouquets were everywhere. Prominently displayed on the wall was a poster with the words “Happy Birthday” written on it. Hyrum was sitting up in his hospital bed, his family by his side. When he saw us, he said, “Why, Brother Monson, how in the world did you know that this is my birthday?” I smiled but I left the question unanswered.
Those in the room who held the Melchizedek Priesthood surrounded this, their father and my friend, and a priesthood blessing was given.
After tears were shed, smiles of gratitude exchanged, and tender hugs received and given, I leaned over to Hyrum and spoke softly to him: “Hyrum, remember the words of the Lord, for they will sustain you. He promised, ‘I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you’” (John 14:18).

To frame some key principles, I want to relate a true story I heard a few years ago that still surprises me to this day.
The Cliff Young Story
In 1983 a sixty-one-year-old farmer contacted the organizers of a 544-mile ultramarathon from Sydney to Melbourne, Australia, and asked to be registered for the race.2 Since the other entrants were well-known and proven ultrarunners—with some holding records3 and others bearing sports sponsorships—this farmer’s request was met with skepticism.

“Do you know how long this race is?” the race officials asked. “What makes you think you can complete it?”4

The farmer insisted that he understood how long the race was and that he believed he could finish it because, being from a poor farm family who couldn’t afford horses or four-wheelers, he had often run in his knee-high gumboots to round up nearly 2,000 sheep over a very large area in advance of a storm, sometimes running for three days to round up the entire flock. He figured that if he could run for three days, he could also do it for five or six days and complete the race.

The race officials reluctantly allowed the farmer to register. On the morning of the race, the other runners showed up with experienced support teams in mobile homes with showers and nice beds for their runners. In contrast, this farmer drove up in a rusty old van, with an inexperienced road crew and one pair of running shoes.5 The starting gun went off, and the runners tore through the streets. Observers noted that this farmer’s stride looked more like a shuffle than a run, his pace being much slower than that of the others.6 The newspapers viewed this farmer who trained in gumboots as a novelty in the race,7 and almost no one took him seriously as a contender.

However, to the shock of the entire nation and the global racing world, this sixty-one-year-old farmer named Cliff Young not only won the ultramarathon but beat the previous record by two days, finishing the 544 miles in five days and fifteen hours.

How did this happen?

Based on my reading of Cliff’s biography and other articles detailing this astonishing result,8 a key reason Cliff Young won was that almost nothing went right for him the first day of the race.

So what went wrong?

First, during the initial hours of the race, due to a poorly marked section of the course, he got lost following another runner who didn’t know the way.9 This experience galvanized Cliff’s resolve not to mimic what other racers were doing, including their pacing and strategy, but rather to run this race by doing what felt right to him.

Second, to make up for getting lost and running slower than his competitors, Cliff ran a couple more hours on the first night than he had originally planned. When he finally finished running around midnight, certain members of his road crew had fallen asleep and didn’t do the one job they had been given: to have a warm dinner ready for him. Though frustrated, Cliff just ate something cold out of a can and then collapsed in exhausted sleep.10

At the time, it was common wisdom among racers that you had to sleep at least six hours a night during these multiday marathons in order to maintain enough energy to make it to the end, so Cliff’s crew chief, Wally, was responsible for waking Cliff up at six in the morning to get an early start.

But the third problem for Cliff and his team occurred when the alarm went off and Wally nodded back to sleep. He then awoke with a start and, without putting on his glasses, ran to the vehicle where Cliff was sleeping and said, “Cliff, get up. I’ve slept in. It’s past six!”

Cliff bolted upright, put on his shoes, and tore down the road, thinking his competitors were already running. But when the sun didn’t come up for what seemed like hours, Cliff finally asked Wally what time it was.

Embarrassed, Wally said it was four in the morning. He had accidently set the alarm for two thirty rather than six. Cliff had barely slept two hours that night.11 But instead of getting upset or calling it quits, he just kept moving forward one step at a time. He found that he could run all day just fine with two to three hours of sleep while eating very simple food out of a can. Doing so helped maximize his running time each day, which drastically changed the outcome of the race. The unanticipated difficulties he experienced during the first part of the race actually worked together for his good. His resilient response to unexpected challenges led to unexpected advantages.

On the fifth and final day of the race, it seemed that the courage and determination of this unlikely hero pulsed through the hearts of millions of Australians with every step Cliff took toward the finish line, uniting the country in a national celebration. That day Cliff became a symbol of Aussie grit and determination.

“Thy people shall be my people” (Ruth 1:16).
“Before my mission, I studied geology,” says Anthony Clah of Shiprock. “I thought, ‘I can learn where gold is formed, find it, then retire.’” He smiles. “But my priorities changed. At the end of my mission, I felt impressed that I should spend my life helping as many young people as possible. I thought, ‘Coaching and teaching is the best way for me to do that.’ So I decided to pursue a degree in physical education, and that came with a coaching certificate.”
He soon met and married his wife, Alohilani, who is from Hawaii. After three years in Shiprock, Anthony was hired as an assistant strength and conditioning coach at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. Then it was on to a similar position at BYU–Hawaii, much to Alohilani’s delight.
“While we were there,” Anthony says, “I learned about the ‘aloha spirit.’ I had never seen anything like it before. I knew that God had brought us there, particularly me, so I could learn what it means to have a loving spirit.” The family also enjoyed living near the temple, attending regularly.
After a few years, however, Anthony felt prompted to move again, not to become a trainer in the National Football League, although he had received such an offer, but to return to the reservation.
“But Hawaii was my home,” Alohilani says, “and he knew I would want to stay.” The family fasted and prayed. Then Anthony and Alohilani went to the temple. “I kept remembering something I had recorded in my journal—a dream where I was standing in front of a group of Native American children, teaching,” Alohilani says. “I knew we needed to be with Anthony’s people.”
Today, the Clah family is, in a way, refining human gold. “We’ve brought the aloha spirit from the islands to the reservation,” Anthony says.
The Clahs often host kids who are struggling. As a high school football coach, Anthony helps draw out the best in student athletes—three have now gone on to play in college. Three of the Clah children are on missions, and the younger ones are building friendships and strengthening the Church where they live. And Alohilani is teaching Native American children.

May I suggest some thoughts for your consideration. To me the permanent, unchanging, first priority in our lives is our relationship with our Heavenly Father and his Son Jesus Christ. If that relationship is one of love, of trust, and of obedience, all else will be well. May I try to picture for you what I mean? Recently an attractive young woman—the age of the majority of you students, one of your peers—came to my office with her parents. She came from a good family, but she had lost her way and now was in serious difficulty. She was unmarried and expecting a child. What should she do? My heart went out to her. I think she loved the Lord. She had forgotten, however, that if you love the Lord you keep in touch with him and you keep his commandments. She had control over her emotions until I asked her if she said her prayers. Then she began to cry. How important it is to communicate daily, and more often if necessary, with our Heavenly Father. He always loves us whether we are good or bad. It takes initiative on our part if he is to bless us.

When my father was about three years old, he was diagnosed as deaf. From that point on, his parents did all they could to learn American Sign Language (ASL), and my grandmother fought for rights for her children and deaf children especially. She knew that mothers and fathers have the responsibility to provide for their children’s needs. Because of her efforts, my dad and his siblings had successful schooling experiences, and all communicate in ASL. When the family gets together, almost everyone signs and feels accepted and understood. Though this unique family unity certainly required a lot of effort and was not easy to achieve, my dad and his siblings have been blessed by their parents’ efforts.
My father (pictured with his sister when they were young) was about three when he was diagnosed as deaf.
Photograph courtesy of the author

by Neal Rackleff
When Scouts from the Vista Fifth Ward, Vista California Stake, were invited to participate in a treasure hunt, they knew from the start they wouldn’t be returning from the hills with mounds of gold. But if they were lucky, they would play a part in unraveling a mystery, and that was incentive enough.
Under the guidance of a researcher investigating the location of the Lost Dutchman Mine, they traveled into the Superstition Mountains near Mesa, Arizona, and spent several days visiting old campsites and learning about the history of the southwestern United States.
Like Indiana Jones digging for clues, they pored over local legends and folklore, studying about men who gave all they had to the search for gold. They also learned something much more profound—that a person can waste his whole life searching for worldly wealth instead of grasping the eternal treasures of the gospel.
“We learned to appreciate the beauty of the mountains,” said Harry Bakken. “It’s a treasure in its own right.”
“And we learned that when it’s hot in the desert, you’d rather have water than gold,” said Kenneth Weeks, the senior patrol leader.
The Scouts were also able to use the activity for fellowshipping, by inviting along a non-LDS friend.

When my husband was serving his mission in Switzerland, he and his companion felt like they should walk down a road they hadn’t tried before and saw a lady sitting on a bench. They didn’t know yet, but she had been baptised when she was around 20 years old and had left the church not long after. A few years later she had a son, who was now 9 years old. While she was waiting for him to come out of school that day she had started thinking about the church. She remembered the missionaries and the songs she used to sing. She looked up the church and found a video about missionaries on her phone and was watching that video when she looked up and saw two missionaries were standing there. She realised an unspoken prayer had been answered.