Gospel Story Finder

Some years ago, in my earliest days as a General Authority, I was given an opportunity to accompany and observe President M. Russell Ballard as he officiated at a sealing in the Salt Lake Temple. President Ballard knew the groom’s family. The couple being sealed appeared to be in their late thirties, and one or both had been previously married.

Before we went into the sealing room, President Ballard told me not to expect many words from him, saying, “It is hard to offer more truth or eloquence than the words of the ordinance themselves.”

During the sealing, President Ballard shared a single scripture: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”27

As President Ballard recited this scripture, the groom became visibly emotional. Tears began to run down his cheeks. Following the sealing, as the company began to reverently express their love to the couple and file out of the sealing room, a man quietly came to me and informed me he was the groom’s best friend. In a whisper, he asked if I had noticed the groom’s emotion.

As I nodded, the man continued: “Will you please let President Ballard know that for reasons I don’t have time to tell you, the scripture he recited has been instrumental in the groom’s long and difficult return to faith and worthiness to be in the temple today? To hear President Ballard quote that scripture was a confirmation from heaven that God is pleased with him.”

As President Ballard and I walked from the sealing room, I told him of my conversation. He stopped, thought for a moment, and, smiling softly, said, “I had not planned to use that scripture. Now I know why it came to me.”

I would like to share an experience of faith. Being the only child, Elder Hermelindo Coy said good-bye to his mother and left for the first time in his life his small village in the mountains of Senahú, Guatemala. He entered the Missionary Training Center the fourteenth of March, 1991. Although he had been a member of the Church for only two years and also very timid about talking to people, his determination to serve was great. His formal education was less than five years of elementary school in his native language of Kekchi. Spanish, the official language of Guatemala, was foreign to him.

During his mission he learned to live with pain in his leg. He rarely complained. In August 1992 he noticed that in addition to the increase in the pain, something was abnormal about his knee. He had a medical exam—the diagnosis: bone cancer. A more careful exam revealed cancer in the liver, lungs, and lymphatic system; in other words, his illness was terminal. He did not understand the nature of the illness nor its seriousness. With the help of a translator and using examples from the farm life with which he was familiar, he understood that he had little time to live.

He never asked, Why is this happening to me? He did not lament or express negative feelings. He was obedient to all that was required of him. He was asked if he would like to return home, but he asked to remain in the mission and serve as long as possible, even until his death. By October of the same year, he walked with difficulty, requiring the use of a cane. He could work only a few hours each day. By December he was unable to walk. For the first time he was discouraged because he could not proselyte. His worry was always who would take care of his mother after he died.

In one of his visits, the mission president asked him to teach more of the basic doctrine to his mother, who, along with mission nurses, was providing twenty-four-hour care. When he taught the plan of salvation to his mother in his native tongue, his face radiated assurance and light. Elder Coy was understanding with power and conviction what he was teaching.

As his strength declined, he placed his complete trust in the Lord. On one occasion when the pain was very strong, he expressed in prayer, “Heavenly Father, I do not know the day or the hour that I will die, but I want to know soon from thee about my new assignment.” He died in February 1993. His death blessed all the missionaries, leaders, members, and even nonmembers who learned of his courage to serve and endure to the end. His faith was so simple that it was contagious. He never feared death. He strengthened all who knew him.

I think, for example, of the great story of Stephen Markham, who joined the Church in the East, sold his property, and came out to Nauvoo with a bag of gold. He listened to the Prophet admonish the people that the Lord wanted them to complete the Nauvoo Temple and urge the people to give of their means, that the temple might be built. At the close of the meeting Stephen Markham came forward and put the little bag of gold upon the rostrum: “Use this for the temple.”

He started again from scratch and, with the aid of his neighbors, built himself a fine home in Nauvoo. Two years later he heard that the Prophet Joseph was in debt. He was running a store. There were no funds to support the Presidency of the Church. The members of the Church were taking advantage of him. They were getting goods on credit and not paying their debts, knowing the Prophet would hardly sue them. Hearing this account, Stephen Markham sold his home, moved his family into a tent, and came and laid the proceeds in the Prophet’s hands, saying, “Pay off your debts. We need you as a prophet of the Church.”

May I give you an example of a Korean brother who heard the Savior’s voice? Brother Choi had left his wife, two children, and his mother for nine months. One day our missionaries were tracting in the city of Kwang Ju, Korea. They found his family. The family began to study with the missionaries and were baptized shortly.

The missionaries started the family home evening program with this family.

One day the seven-year-old daughter purchased a Book of Mormon from a missionary and sent it with her simple, yet beautiful testimony to her daddy. Two missionaries took that book to her father and bore their strong, firm testimonies of the truthfulness of the gospel and the importance of the family. Her father wondered why these people were so concerned and kind to him and his family. When evening came, he began to read, and heard a familiar voice of the Lord. He was so inspired and found it to be true. And also he found the testimony written by his daughter. I would like to share it with you, brothers and sisters. She said:

“Aboji, Aboji, Aboji (which interpreted is “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy”), I want to have family home evening with you! Please come back! We love you! I love you! I need you! I want you to read this book! Heavenly Father loves you!”

Brother Choi was so inspired and magnified by reading the Book of Mormon and touched by it and touched by his daughter’s testimony that he asked the missionaries to baptize him. Therefore this family was reunited, and Brother Choi is now the bishop of the Kwang Ju Third Ward. He sits in this hall today, a living example of one who heard the Savior’s voice from the Book of Mormon.

“Why do bad things always happen to me?” grumbled Harold as he tried to pull his school backpack out from under him. It was a cold morning, and the road to school was very icy. He was late, and in his hurry, he had fallen just outside the school door and landed on his backpack.
Harold looked inside the pack. “Oh no!” he moaned. “This is worse than I thought.” When he’d fallen, he’d mashed everything in his lunch, including the little box of juice his mother had put in as a treat. It had squirted over everything. Harold pulled out his book report. It was dripping with apple juice.
“Why do bad things always happen to me?” he muttered over and over as he opened the school door and went down the hall to his class, holding up with two fingers the dripping book report.
“Good morning, Harold, how are you today?” asked Mrs. Bennett as he walked into the classroom.
“I’m terrible,” he growled as he hung up his coat and sat down.
Two girls nearby giggled. “Harold is always terrible,” Katie said.
“Always,” laughed Anna.
Mrs. Bennett went over and sat down next to Harold. “Why is everything so terrible?”
Without a word, Harold showed her the soggy and sticky book report. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out on the top of his desk and said, “See this? Bad things always happen to me. I can prove it because I have them all written down on this list. Now today I need to add what happened on the way to school. I fell on the ice. I squashed my lunch. Juice got all over my book report, and I think I bruised my elbow.”
“Well,” his teacher said, “that is kind of a tough way to start the morning. What else is on your list?”
Harold read down his bad-things list. “Yesterday I stubbed my toe. My two big brothers took all the chocolate milk at dinner before I could get any. I didn’t get a turn on the swings at recess. On Monday I lost my favorite little car, and my pencil broke during the spelling test. Amanda spilled her milk in the lunchroom, and it went all over me.” Harold took a deep breath and was about to go on.
“I see what you mean,” Mrs. Bennett broke in quickly. “I’m wondering, though, just why you keep all of that on a list.”
“Because if I don’t, I might forget something. You see bad things always happen to me.”
Mrs. Bennett looked for a long time at Harold and then pulled the pencil from behind her ear. “Do you know what I think?” she asked.
Harold shook his head.
“I think your list isn’t long enough.” Harold looked at his teacher in surprise. He thought his list pretty much covered everything. He had kept it in his pocket and added to it all week.
“I’d be really curious to see what your list looks like if you wrote down absolutely everything that happens to you today. You will need more than that little paper. Here, use this notebook. Start with what happened on the way to school, then add everything that happens to you all day.”
“OK,” Harold said, “but you’ll see that bad things always happen to me.” Mrs. Bennett just smiled, and he started writing. He made sure that he covered all the details about the apple juice, the ruined book report, the smashed sandwich, his bruised elbow—everything.
Math was the first class. They worked through the problems on the chalkboard while Mrs. Bennett handed back their tests. Harold’s had a big 100% written on the top! She winked at Harold when she gave it to him and said, “Better write this down in the notebook.” Harold got out his list.
In reading, the students were reading aloud a play called “Robin Hood Rescues Maid Marian,” and when they drew names, Harold drew the part of Robin Hood! Mrs. Bennett winked again, and Harold knew that he was supposed to write that down.
As the children put on their coats to go outside for recess, his teacher noticed that he had some new boots with a warm, fuzzy lining, and new gloves to match. “New boots, Harold?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said. “Mom got them for me yesterday while she was shopping.”
“Hmmmm.” Mrs. Bennett rubbed her chin, “That sounds to me like something that happened to you.”
“I know,” said Harold. “I’d better write it down.” While he was at it, he noticed that his coat was pretty nice and warm too. Then he realized that he hadn’t yet written down anything about the hot breakfast his mother had made for him.
As the day went on, Harold’s list grew longer and longer. Right after lunch, he put down all about how terrible it was to eat a smashed lunch and how Robert had laughed about his funny flat sandwich for an hour. But out on the playground, he scored three baskets for his team, and Nick asked him to play after school, and he had to put that on the list too.
During art, his paint water spilled all over. That went into the notebook in big, capital letters. Jenny helped him wipe everything up, though, and Mrs. Bennett winked again, so he knew that he was supposed to add “help from a friend” to his list. He was on the third page of the notebook already.
At the end of the day, Harold took the notebook back to his teacher. “Well,” he said to her, “I think I’ve recorded just about everything.”
“Good,” she said. “What do you think—shall we count up all the bad things now?”
Harold looked at his feet and fiddled with the old, crumpled list in his pocket. It was really hard for him to say it, but maybe everything wasn’t so terrible. “Mrs. Bennett,” he said as he looked at the notebook, “I think maybe I saved up all the bad things so long that I forgot to notice the good things.”
Mrs. Bennett smiled.
“This kind of a list is a lot more interesting to write than the old one. Do you think I could keep this paper?”
“Harold, you can keep the whole notebook,” Mrs. Bennett said. “I hope you keep adding things until it’s a very long list.”
Harold grinned. “Thanks,” he said. “But, you know, it still bugs me that my apple juice ended up all over my book report instead of in my lunch.”
“I bet it does,” Mrs. Bennett said, “but at least it helped you see not only that good things happened to you, too, but also that it helps to write things down. Hmmm—I think you’ll have good things happen to you next week when we start a lesson on journals. What do you think?”
“Yes!”

We all willingly serve. Sometimes we feel underwhelmed with our calling and wish we were asked to do more. Other times we are grateful when it is time for our release. We do not determine the callings we receive. I learned this lesson early in my marriage. As a young couple, my wife, Kathy, and I lived in Florida. One Sunday a counselor in the stake presidency explained to me that they felt impressed to call Kathy as an early-morning seminary teacher.
“How will we do it?” I asked. “We have small children, seminary begins at 5:00 a.m., and I am the ward Young Men president.”
The counselor smiled and said, “It will be OK, Brother Andersen. We will call her, and we will release you.”
And that is what happened.
Sincerely asking for and listening to the thoughts and concerns voiced by women is vital in life, in marriage, and in building the kingdom of God.

While I was at Duke University, I had the opportunity to play volleyball. On one of our trips I was in a discussion with two of our team members one of whom was in the Divinity School there and was in his last year and the other a younger student from Brazil. The divinity student had spent his last few summers doing student preaching (if that was what it was called.) He was a nice guy and everyone on the team got along great. The young man from Brazil was a fine player. As we traveled to a meet, the young Brazilian asked the "to be" minister a question. He stated that he was in love with a girl and wanted to know if it was wrong to have premarital relations with her. What did the future minister friend think? My friend said - "I think it is fine".

At that point I nearly scared them to death as I said in an agitated voice - what are you talking about? Haven't you read the Bible? I then quoted Matt 5:28 which reads, But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart. I also pointed to counsel given by Paul to Timothy and Titus pointing out the sins of the flesh and commending them to be chaste. My friend agreed that indeed the scriptures said that and the discussion grew quiet. The young Brazilian had not gotten the permission slip he wanted and I may have embarrassed my divinity student friend. But in good conscience I could not let him give such bad counsel.

That October conference, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared some of his experiences related to moving his young family to Connecticut for graduate school. We had also moved to Connecticut for graduate school. Then he described how he and his family had fit all of their possessions into their little car—we had done the same. He explained that when the trip began, his car had overheated and broken down not once but twice! Our vehicle also broke down twice.
Finally, he described a more recent experience of driving a reliable car by the spot where his car had broken down 30 years earlier. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself as a young father and said these words: “Don’t give up, boy. Don’t you quit. … There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it. … You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”1Elder Holland’s experience helped me feel understood and loved. His example gave me the courage to seek the spiritual witness that more education for my husband was the will of the Lord for our family.

I witnessed such an act of service one Sunday as I attended the sacrament meeting of a small branch which consisted of patients in a nursing home. Most of the members were elderly and somewhat incapacitated. During the meeting, a sister called out aloud, “I’m cold! I’m cold!” Without a moment’s hesitation, one of the priests at the sacrament table arose and walked over to this sister, removed his own suit coat, placed it around her shoulders, and then returned to his duties at the sacrament table.

After the meeting, this young man came to me and apologized for blessing the sacrament without his suit coat. Quietly I said to him that he was never more appropriately dressed than he was that day when a dear widow was uncomfortably cold and he provided the warmth she needed by placing his jacket around her shoulders. A simple act of kindness? Yes, but much more: a genuine love and concern for others.

It seemed everyone wanted a summer home in the humid coastal zone of Ilo, Peru, so my missionary companion and I always had plenty of doors to knock. Much of our door contacting occurred within rows of identical three-story, 12-apartment buildings. It was easy to get lost.
One night we planned to visit a woman we had met. We got her floor and apartment number right, but we mistakenly went to the apartment complex one over from hers. We knocked, and when a young man opened the door, we realized we had gone to the wrong apartment.
But before we could explain our mistake, the young man said, “Ah, elders, good to see you. My grandma went to the store, but she should be back any minute. Come on in.”
With confused looks, we entered and sat on the couch. When the grandmother arrived a few minutes later, she was thrilled to see us.
Still confused, we asked how she knew the missionaries. She explained that they had taught her two years before, but when her schedule became too busy, they had stopped visiting.
The particular night we came, she was feeling worthless. The whole week had been hard for her. She was overworked and tired and felt that nothing she did really mattered. Then we showed up, brightened her day, and gave her a second chance at the purpose-giving gospel of Jesus Christ. Our unexpected visit was God’s sign to her that she mattered to Him.
We had gone to the wrong apartment, but we were exactly where we needed to be. Losing our way brought us to find this daughter of God again. Through our imperfection in navigating, God directed us to her.
After we left, we found the woman we had planned to visit. She didn’t even notice we were late. I think about what would have happened had we found the right apartment from the start.
Had we gone where we had planned, we would have missed a much-needed chance to share the Savior’s love. But God worked through our imperfection to point us where He needed us to tread. I’m grateful He let us become lost so that we could find the one who needed direction.

And finally from among these witnesses, Heber C. Kimball, born on June 14, 1801, baptized on April 16, 1832, two years after the Church was organized,at age 30, again in Mendon, New York, similar to Brigham Young. From the life of Heber C. Kimball, we read the following account, which occurred on November 1, 1838 at Farr West, Missouri at the height of the Church period of apostasy in its darkest moments. Some of the leading brethren of the Church and families of these brethren had apostatized and were literally fighting against the Church and Joseph Smith.

President Kimball states:
William E. McLellin wanted to know where Heber C. Kimball was. Someone pointed me out to him as I was sitting on the ground. He came up to me and said: ‘Brother Heber, what do you think of the fallen prophet now? Has he not led you blindfolded long enough? Look and see yourself, poor, your family stripped and robbed, and your brethren in the same fix; are you satisfied with Joseph?’ I replied, ‘Yes, I am more satisfied with him a hundred-fold than ever I was before, for I see you in the very position that he foretold you would be in; a Judas to betray your brethren, if you did not forsake your adultery, fornication, lying and abominations. Where are you? What are you about? You, and Hinkle, and scores of others; have you not betrayed Joseph and his brethren into the hands of the mob, as Judas did Jesus? Yes, verily, you have; I tell you Mormonism is true, and Joseph is a true prophet of the living god; and you with all others that turn therefrom will be damned and go to hell, and Judas will rule over you.[12]

A couple of years ago, my dad found out that one of his employees had embezzled a lot of money from him. This man had also been his close friend, and it crushed my dad that his friend would do something so horrible.
When confronted about the situation, my dad’s employee got extremely angry and defensive. My dad didn’t want to go to the authorities because the embezzlement could put the man in prison, so he decided to go through a legal mediator. The employee refused to repay the money he had stolen.
The mediator finally asked my dad, “Why are you doing all this? He’s being difficult and unreceptive. If you just turned in all the evidence to the authorities, it would all be over and done with. Why are you putting yourself through so much hassle for someone who won’t even apologize to you?”
And my dad answered, “Because I don’t want to ruin his life.”
After everything was settled, my dad never complained about it. I complained about it a lot, and I wasn’t even involved directly.

At age 25, I found myself in a verbally abusive relationship. I’d become less active in the Church, but when I finally left my boyfriend, I decided to go back to attending church regularly. I wanted to be on the straight and narrow path again. Little did I know, though, that when I made that decision, I was already pregnant.
I decided to stay true to my choice to be active again in the Church, but I didn’t really want to be pregnant and go to church where I lived. I wanted to attend a ward in a different city, so I went there one Sunday. It was the day of the Primary sacrament meeting presentation. As the children talked about how Heavenly Father always loves us, I felt His love too. That message was a great blessing for me that day.
After the meeting, I asked the bishop if I could attend that ward given my situation. He advised me to go to the ward within my boundaries. I didn’t want to, but he assured me I’d be OK, and I was.
When I told my bishop about my pregnancy, he was so helpful. It was a blessing to meet with him regularly. As I talked with him about my options for the baby, he wanted me to know that he was there to represent the Lord in my repentance process but would not tell me what decision to make about raising or placing my baby. As we were studying Doctrine and Covenants 9:8–9, my bishop asked me to pray and tell Heavenly Father what I really wanted—he encouraged me to make a decision and seek confirmation from the Lord.
So I went home and prayed. I told Heavenly Father all the amazing reasons why I would be the best mom for this baby, and I asked to know if that decision was right. The next day, everything in life felt like it was falling apart. For instance, I lost my medical insurance, and my car broke down.
At church the following Sunday, I told my bishop how life seemed to fall apart after I prayed about my decision. Because of what had happened after my prayer, my bishop suggested that I consider a different decision and seek confirmation about it instead.
While working with my bishop, I had considered placing the baby for adoption and had narrowed down the potential adoptive families to two couples. The bishop suggested that I select one of the two couples and pray about that decision to ask if this little guy needed to go with them.
I went home and reluctantly prayed, asking Heavenly Father if the couple I had chosen were the ones my child needed. The next morning, a connection my sister made led to a miracle solution for my insurance. I felt this was a confirmation that adoption was the right path for me, and I remember thinking this child could have so much more with a different family.
I knew that Heavenly Father would help me with this decision. Part of me hoped this choice would be like the story of Abraham and Isaac (see Genesis 22)—that when it came time for me to place my son for adoption, God would tell me I didn’t need to do it anymore. But He didn’t. I needed to place my son with a wonderful family.
As I sat in the hospital with my new little bundle of joy, I turned on the TV. General conference happened to be on. I heard a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles entitled “None Were with Him.” He taught that “because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so.”1 I closed my eyes and told Heavenly Father that I felt so alone, and then I felt so much love from Him.
After the placement, I felt completely empty. But in the back of my mind, I still knew I wasn’t alone. I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me, as Elder Holland had taught. I prepared for the temple and received my endowment. I was obeying the commandments, and I was determined I would never let myself be deceived into wrong choices again.
But years later, I was deceived again and ended up in another abusive relationship. When I broke away, I found out I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to place the baby. I was older than before, and I felt like I could be a good mom. I met with my bishop and a social worker. I started following the same process that I had before in praying about adoption, but nothing ever seemed to click. It always felt difficult.
I still went to church. Sometimes ward members would say they were surprised to see me there pregnant, which hurt a little. But I still went every week. I wanted people to see that what I had done reflected a choice I had made but that it didn’t define who I was. I worked with my bishop to move forward.
As my due date grew closer, I started to panic. With my first baby, I’d had a plan, but this one was so different. I didn’t feel like I was receiving a strong answer regarding any option for my baby. I let the couple whom I had placed my first baby with know that I was pregnant but unsure of whether I would place, and that if I did place, I would want them to raise this baby as well.
After I had the baby, I still felt unsure. Then my doctor came in to check on us and said, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to have children again, so love this little one.” While that may not be the answer for everyone, I felt the Spirit confirm that this was the right choice for me. After panicking for nine months, I felt peace. I let the couple know that I had decided to parent my daughter.
I wanted to be the best mom I could be, and I knew that the only way to do that was staying close to family and the Lord’s Church. I knew that what I had learned in the gospel of Jesus Christ would help her like it had helped me.
With my pregnancies, was one decision easier than the other? No. Both options were hard—just different kinds of hard, as were the joys. With my daughter, she is an incredible delight to me. Yet being a single mother is hard. With the son I placed, I still think about him and hope he’s happy throughout his life, but I am not as involved in his day-to-day happenings. When I was pregnant with him, I couldn’t see what Heavenly Father had in mind for him. But now I can see it, and I know he’s where he needs to be.
We can’t know beforehand what placing or single parenting will be like. But we can always trust in the Lord.
As part of my repentance, I remember hearing my bishop say, “Your sins are forgiven.” I felt such great relief, and I realized that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. I would remember my sin, but from that moment on, my Savior, Jesus Christ, would remember it no more (see Doctrine and Covenants 58:42). I knew that He wanted me to move forward to become a better person, to become what He sees I can be. That’s what I strive to do every day—to become even closer to Him and to hold ever tighter to the iron rod (see 1 Nephi 15:23–24; see also 1 Nephi 11:25).
One of my favorite scriptures reads, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). I am grateful for Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption.
I currently serve as my ward’s Young Women president. One principle I try to help the young women learn is that regardless of any choices they make, there is no place where they are out of Heavenly Father’s reach. As Elder Holland taught: “However many mistakes you feel you have made or talents you think you don’t have, or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”2
I hope that the young women in my ward—and everyone—remember that truth. It has blessed my life immeasurably, and the joys I now feel in living the gospel have become an even greater strength to me.

The winter of 1848 was difficult and challenging for the pioneer settlers in the Salt Lake Valley. During the summer of 1847 Brigham Young had declared that the Saints had finally reached their destination. “This is the right place,”1 said Brigham Young, who had been shown in a vision where the Saints were to be established. The early members of the Church had endured tremendous adversity as the Restoration of the gospel unfurled. They had been driven from their homes, persecuted, and hounded. They had suffered untold hardships as they crossed the plains. But now they were at last in “the right place.”
And yet the winter of 1848 had been extremely harsh. The winter had been so cold that some people’s feet had been badly frozen. A spirit of uneasiness began to descend upon the Saints. Some Church members declared that they would not build their homes in the valley. They wanted to remain in their wagons, for they were sure that Church leadership would herald them on to some better location. They had brought seeds and fruit plants, but they dared not waste them by planting in the barren desert wasteland. Jim Bridger, a well-known explorer of the time, told Brigham Young he would give a thousand dollars for the first bushel of corn raised in the Salt Lake Valley because, he said, it could not be done.2
To complicate matters, gold had just been discovered in California. Some Church members envisioned that life would be simpler and more abundant if they were to move on to California in search of riches and a better climate.
Under this cloud of discontent, Brigham Young addressed the members of the Church. He declared:
“[This valley] is the place God has appointed for His people.
“We have been kicked out of the frying-pan into the fire, out of the fire into the middle of the floor, and here we are and here we will stay. God has shown me that this is the spot to locate His people, and here is where they will prosper; He will temper the elements for the good of His Saints; He will rebuke the frost and the sterility of the soil, and the land shall become fruitful. Brethren, go, now, and plant … your … seeds.”
In addition to promising these blessings, President Young declared that the Salt Lake Valley would become known as a highway to the nations. Kings and emperors would visit the land. Best of all, a temple to the Lord would be erected.3
These were remarkable promises. Many Church members had faith in Brigham Young’s prophecies, while others remained skeptical and left for what they assumed would be a better life. Yet history has shown that every prophecy Brigham Young declared has come to pass. The valley did blossom and produce. The Saints prospered. The winter of 1848 was a great catalyst for the Lord to teach His people a valuable lesson. They learned—as we all must learn—that the only sure and secure road to protection in this life comes through trusting in and obeying the counsel from the prophets of God.

One day, the sisters brought us uma surpresa—a surprise that would help me and my sister and brother know the Book of Mormon was true. It was a storybook with colored pictures telling the stories of the prophets in the Book of Mormon. “This is my chance to know if it’s true or not,” I thought to myself. I wanted to read it right away.
After the sisters left that night, I got ready for bed and started reading the storybook. Then I remembered that the sisters told me to pray before I read it. I knelt down to say my prayers and I asked Heavenly Father to help me know that the Book of Mormon is true. I said if I could stay awake until I finished reading the book, I would know that it was true. Then I started reading and was excited about the big trip Lehi and his family took across the waters in the barca [ship], and the wars between the people in the land. I liked reading about the 2,000 jovens guerreiros—the young warriors who fought for their families. I wished I was one of them. Before I knew it, I was finished with the book. And I wasn’t even tired.
Then I knew that the Book of Mormon was true and that everything the sisters taught was right. But the greatest thing to know was that Heavenly Father loved me so much he answered my prayer. Now I knew that if I obeyed his commandments he would answer my prayers. I was ready to be baptized.
Mother and I prepared for our baptisms. My brother and sister were too young to be baptized but they couldn’t wait until it was their turn. When the Elder baptized me and I came out of the water, I was proud and excited to be a new member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—a name I would never forget.

A Mia Maid in the Philippines expressed the same thought like this:
“I used to ask myself, ‘Am I one of the chosen daughters of our Heavenly Father?’ and ‘Did God create all people?’ These questions prompted me to read the scriptures with the hope of receiving immediate answers. But the answers took long in coming. I became involved in the Young Women organization, and through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I developed a strong faith that I am indeed a daughter of God, who created all of us.”

Jared was baptized in the Naknek River, which empties into the Bering Sea. The beach along the river is a favorite place for the children to play, and they also catch lots of fish in the river, mostly red, king, pink, and silver salmon. King salmon may be as big as Jared, so just one will feed lots of people!
The day Jared was baptized, a special thing happened. It rains a lot in King Salmon, and it had been pouring for two days. A few minutes before the baptism the rain stopped. As the congregation walked down to the river, the sun peeped out and the usual sounds of aircraft and other noises ceased just long enough for Jared’s father to baptize him!

Let me share with you some great examples from my experience. Two Christmases ago we received a phone call on Sunday evening. The caller did not identify himself, rather he asked if we would be home. My son said, “Yes,” but before he could tell him it was our family home evening, the caller said, “Fine, then tell your folks to expect a visitor about 9:00 P.M.” Family home evening was held and the caller forgotten. Then refreshments were served, and right in the middle of the activity, the doorbell rang. Our son answered the door and, lo and behold, there was Santa Claus. Now I know this was the real Santa Claus because I looked at his boots. He had real boots on, not vinyl coverings. He came into the living room smiling and laughing. He shook hands with everyone; then he had each of my children sit on his knee, and he visited with them. Then he turned to me and he said, “Bishop, will you come over here?” So I went over and sat on the floor Indian-style in front of him. He said, “Santa Claus wants to do something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope and he said, “I want you to give this to some needy person this year.” Tears came to his eyes as he passed me the envelope. I opened the envelope and there was a fresh, crisp $100 bill. Then Santa said, “I’ll come back next year and give you another one and see what you did with the first one.”

I took the $100 bill and put it in my wallet. Everytime I opened my wallet I was reminded to search for someone to whom I could give it. I went to many cities and countries, always watching and praying that I would give it to the right party. I saw many in need, many who could have used it, but I never felt impressed to give it away.

Then at the area conference in Sweden, I met a good friend of mine, Hakan Palm. I asked him if he knew anyone who needed this money. He told me of a lady whose husband had passed away. She lived way up in the north of Sweden above the Arctic Circle. She worked at a hotel as a cleaning woman to support herself and her two children. The missionaries who labored in that community knew she could never afford to go to the area conference without help, so they wrote home to their fathers. They told of the plight of this faithful Latter-day Saint who lived in such humble circumstances. The father of one of the missionaries wrote back to his son and sent enough money to get this woman and her two children to the area conference. It was an answer to her prayers. Now she could take her two children and the three of them could see the prophet, something she hadn’t even dared to hope would take place in this life.

She and her children traveled to Stockholm in pure faith. She did not have the slightest idea how they would get back home or what they would use for food and lodging while in Stockholm. Hakan Palm said $100 would take care of their meager needs while they attended the area conference and would pay their way back home. I think that a kind and loving Father in heaven knew her needs and put the $100 bill in its trajectory course (as Elder Neal Maxwell would say) to provide this family with the means to see the prophet.

Home teaching also inspires young men to serve missions. For example, before his mission, Paul Nielsen of Provo, Utah, served with his dad as home teacher to three inactive families. After receiving his call and entering the Missionary Training Center, Paul learned that one of the families had gone to the temple and been sealed. “That was my greatest motivation to work hard and really learn Spanish and the discussions,” he says. “My first taste of missionary work was so great that I was more determined than ever to be a successful missionary.”

Anthony Quasie had a life-changing experience while just a boy growing up in Cape Coast Ghana. His mother told him that when he was 5 years old, he witnessed a man, who was hired to help at his home, cut the neck of a chicken just enough for the chicken to run around in pain before dying. He remembers his mother saying that “I folded my arms and cried all day”, and when it came time to eat the chicken, it made him very sick. He grew up not liking it when people mistreated animals.