Gospel Story Finder

When I was 17, I began taking philosophy classes in high school. One day the teacher said to the class, “Surely there isn’t anyone here who believes that Adam really existed!” Then he scanned the room with the look of an inquisitor, ready to pounce on whoever dared to admit to such belief. I was petrified! However, my desire to be loyal to my faith was even stronger. I glanced around to see that I was the only one of those 40 students to raise a hand. The teacher, taken by surprise, changed the subject.

As families, we all have needs. Just a few heartfelt words about mothers who parent alone: Let me share with you the story of a mother of five whose husband was deployed overseas. She relates:
“When my husband left in early February, we had reliable vehicles. However, by November, they had broken down, and we were not able to repair them. During this same time, my 17-year-old son let me know that he wasn’t planning to serve a mission because he wasn’t sure if the gospel was true. If ever there was a time in my life that I needed the blessings of the priesthood, it was then. I don’t remember all the details or when and where, but I distinctly remember receiving more than one blessing from caring priesthood holders during that time. I always knew that I could call on my home teachers and they would be there. Neither one could fix my van, but they could give me much-needed priesthood blessings, and they found someone who could fix the car.”

The story is told of a group of men who were talking about people who had influenced their lives and for whom they were grateful. One man thought of a high school teacher who had introduced him to Tennyson. He decided to write and thank her. In time, written in a feeble scrawl, came the teacher’s reply:
“My dear Willie:
“I can’t tell you how much your note meant to me. I am in my 80s, living alone in a small room, cooking my own meals, lonely and like the last leaf lingering behind. You will be interested to know that I taught school for 50 years, and yours is the first note of appreciation I have ever received. It came on a blue, cold morning, and it cheered me as nothing has for years.”

It wasn’t enough for Manila, Philippines, institute students to just learn the word—they wanted to go out and share it. So they put together a musical show, emphasizing the scriptures and education, that was designed to help parents and youth apply gospel principles in their lives.
The students gave up their summer free time to rehearse and perform, but said it was worth it to see the audience reaction—some were touched to tears. The group toured Metro Manila and the nearby provinces with their variety show. “All our efforts have been paid off by the wonderful feelings we’ve had,” said one participant.

How well I remember the challenges confronting the youth in the ward over which I once presided.
One evening a lovely teenage girl came to the office with her boyfriend to talk things over with me. The two of them were very much in love, and temptation was beginning to make its inroad.
As we counseled together, my young friends each made a pledge to the other to resist temptation and keep uppermost in their minds the goal of a temple marriage. I suggested a course of action to follow and then felt impressed to say: “If you ever find yourselves in a position of compromise and need additional strength, you call me regardless of the hour.”
Early one morning at one o’clock, the telephone rang and a voice said: “Bishop, this is Nancy. Remember how you asked me to call if I found myself being tempted? Well, Bishop, I’m in that situation.” I asked where she was, and she described one of the more popular moon-watching spots in the Salt Lake Valley. She and her fiancé had walked to a nearby phone booth to make the call. The setting wasn’t ideal for providing counsel, but the need was great and the young couple was receptive.
Months later, when the mailman delivered her wedding announcement to our home and Sister Monson read, “Mr. and Mrs. __________ request the pleasure of your company at the wedding reception of their daughter, Nancy,” she sighed, “Thank heaven! No more 1:00 A.M. telephone calls.” When I noticed the small print at the bottom which read, “Married in the Salt Lake Temple,” I said silently, “Thank heaven for the strength of Latter-day Saint youth!”
Choose your friends with caution.

As I pondered this question, I immediately reflected upon an experience from my youth. This is a story I related to Elder Robert D. Hales shortly after my call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and which he included in a Church magazine article he wrote about my life.1 Some of you may have heard this story, but many may not have.
When I was about 11 years old, my father and I went hiking on a hot summer day in the mountains near our home. As Dad hiked up the steep trail, I jumped from one large rock to another along the sides of the trail. Intending to climb one of the large rocks, I began to clamber to the top of it. As I did so, I was surprised when my dad grabbed me by my belt and quickly pulled me down, saying, “Don’t climb on that rock. Let’s just keep on the trail.”
Minutes later, as we looked down from higher up the trail, we were stunned as we saw a big rattlesnake basking in the sun on top of the very rock I had intended to climb.
Later, as we were driving home, I knew Dad was waiting for me to ask, “How did you know the snake was there?” So I asked, and my question led to a discussion about the Holy Ghost and how the Holy Ghost can help us. I have never forgotten what I learned that day.
Can you see how the Holy Ghost helped me? I am forever grateful that my father listened to the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost, as it may have saved my life.

Recently, a friend working on her Ph.D. received an impression during a Relief Society conference to shift the focus of her dissertation. She also felt prompted to go directly to the temple to ask the Lord further questions. She said, "While there, I was told how to make [this new focus] work...[and] how I could be both academically unbiased and spiritually honest. I occasionally receive clear words from the Spirit, but never have I been given such clear instructions....The task ahead feels incredibly difficult, but I know what direction to go and that the Lord expects it of me, and that makes all the difference."

At a press conference following the announcement of his call on October 6, President Eyring recalled being invited into President Faust’s office shortly after being called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles on April 1, 1995. Instead of offering expected encouragement, President Faust pointed heavenward, smiled, and said, “Don’t talk to me. Talk to Him.” President Eyring explained, “Rather than trying to solve all my problems, he sent me to God. He had that gift of being very sensitive and kind—the dearest friend and the best mentor you could have.”

A prospective elder in Utah was afraid to go to church because he didn’t want to be called on to pray or answer questions. After two months of being taught the gospel in their home, he and his wife accepted an invitation to attend the temple preparation seminar. Shortly afterward, they made church attendance their goal, despite the man’s fears. It was their decision, arising out of their progress in learning the gospel. He’s now been ordained an elder, and he and his wife have been sealed in the temple.

As a 12-year-old boy, I had the privilege to serve as the secretary of my deacons quorum. I recall with joy the many assignments we members of that quorum had the opportunity to fill. Passing the sacred sacrament, collecting the monthly fast offerings, and looking after one another come readily to mind. The most frightening one, however, happened at the leadership session of our ward conference. The member of our stake presidency presiding was William F. Perschon. He called on a number of the ward officers to speak. Then, without the slightest warning, President Perschon stood and said, “We will now hear from Thomas S. Monson, secretary of the deacons quorum, to give us an accounting of his service and bear his testimony.” I don’t recall a thing I said, but I have never forgotten the experience.

All of the Authorities who are here tonight could testify that in the reorganization of stakes they have had remarkable and inspiring experiences. I recall being assigned to reorganize a stake about 40 years ago. The president had suddenly died. The Brethren asked me to go down and speak at the funeral and reorganize the stake. I had never done this before. I was new as a General Authority. I was to be all alone.

When I arrived, I was taken to another town, where I participated in the funeral service. I asked all of the stake officers and the bishops to remain after the service and announced that a reorganization of the stake would take place the next evening.

I asked the mission president to sit with me as I interviewed the brethren, none of whom I knew. We interviewed late into the evening. I soon discovered there were problems in the stake. There were divisive feelings. When we were all through, I said to the mission president, “I am not satisfied. Are there not others?” He said, “I know of only one man whom we have not interviewed. He moved here rather recently on a transfer in his company. He is the second counselor in a bishopric. I do not know him well. He resides in another city.”

I said, “Let’s go see him.” We drove and went to the hotel where I would be staying for the night. Here I was, having interviewed all of these brethren and having not found one that I considered worthy to preside and having scheduled the reorganization for the next evening.

We arrived late at the hotel. I called the man; a sleepy voice answered the phone. I said that I wished to see him that evening. I apologized for calling him so late. He said, “I’ve just gone to bed, but I’ll put on my clothes and come.”

He came to the hotel. The conversation that followed was most interesting. He was a graduate of BYU in petroleum geology. He worked for a big oil company. He had served elsewhere in positions of responsibility in the Church. He knew the program of the Church. He had served a mission. He knew the gospel. He was mature in the Church. And the territory for which he was responsible as an employee of the oil company was exactly the same as the territory of the stake. I told him we would telephone him in the morning and excused him.

The mission president went on his way, and I went to bed.

At about three o’clock the next morning I awoke. Doubts began to flood my mind. This man was almost a total stranger to the people of the stake. I got out of bed and got on my knees and pleaded with the Lord for direction. I did not hear a voice, but I had a very distinct impression that said, “I told you who should be stake president. Why do you continue to ask?”

Ashamed of myself for troubling the Lord again, I went to bed and fell asleep. I phoned the man early the next morning and issued to him a call to serve as president of the stake. I asked him to select counselors.

That evening when people gathered for the meeting, there was much speculation as to who would be the stake president, but no one even thought of this man. When I announced his name, people looked at one another for a clue to discovering who he was. I had him come to the stand. I announced his counselors and had them come to the stand.

Even though they did not know him, the people sustained him. Things began to happen in that stake. The people had known for a long time that they needed a stake center, but they had been uncertain and argumentative as to where it should go. He went to work and within 18 months had a beautiful new stake center ready for dedication. He unified the stake. He traveled up and down, meeting the people and extending his love to them. That stake, which had grown tired, came to life and literally bubbled with new enthusiasm. It stands as a shining star in the large constellation of stakes in this Church.

“During December 1987, I had some Church assignments in Bolivia, a beautiful South American country where the Church is growing rapidly. The Regional Representative at that time, Elder Philip Kradolfer, accompanied me, and he had a large suitcase full of toys. Just before Christmas each year, his children give some of their best toys to less fortunate children living in the Altiplano of Bolivia. It was wonderful to see the children’s faces as they received a doll, a game, a book, or a purse. Jesus taught that it is better to give than to receive, and I am sure that you have felt the same happiness when you have been a secret helper.”

Let's consider the offices that Jesus put in His church to assist us: apostles and prophets. President Monson is an example. As I read his biography and his talks, I realized a pattern in his talks. It is the pattern for how we become like the Savior and obtain revelation in our lives. His stories are for children and all those who humble themselves like a little child. What happens to your heart when you hear this story from President Monson's biography, written by Heidi Swinton?

"...the home was buzzing with Thanksgiving preparations when Charlie Renshaw, a friend over the back fence, stood outside, as was the custom...and hollered, 'Tom-my!'

"'What are you eating?'

"Tommy told him it was turkey, and Charlie asked what turkey tasted like.

"Tom responded, 'Oh, about like chicken,' to which Charlie asked, 'What does chicken taste like?'

"Tom ran into the kitchen, snatched a piece of breast meat, and handed it to his friend. 'That's good!'

"When Tom asked what Charlie's family was having for dinner the answer was, 'I dunno. There's nothing in the house.'

"Tom had no turkeys or chicken or money. But he did have two pet rabbits, a male and a female, the pride of his life. He motioned to his friend and headed for the specially constructed rabbit hutch...and reached in and grabbed his two pet rabbits, put them in a gunnysack, and handed the bag to Charlie.

"He said: 'Rabbit meat tastes better than chicken.'"

Brothers and sisters, when one gives a love gift, all that one has, the meal will taste better than any dish prepared by a gourmet chef. President Monson's stories are not just stories. They teach us how to become like the Savior.

President Hinckley has enjoyed marvelous support from his family, none of whom take themselves too seriously—a trait fostered by both father and mother, who have stayed remarkably unaffected by years in the spotlight. Sister Hinckley has filled long absences away from children and grandchildren with letters postmarked from around the world. Virginia says, “The way we came to appreciate Dad’s callings was through Mother, because she made it a shared experience and told us every detail. When they went to the Seoul Korea Temple dedication and told us about the beautiful women in their Korean dresses who lined the halls as they came out of the dedication, we could picture what they’d seen. Dad, on the other hand, said, ‘Dresses? What dresses?’”

Yet while letters filled some gaps, Sister Hinckley longed to share more with their family. When President Hinckley asked her how she would like to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, she responded immediately, “I would like to walk the streets of Hong Kong with my children.” The request seemed far-fetched, but their children determined to save the money such a trip would require. Says Kathy, “I had heard Mother describe the streets of Hong Kong in such detail that when I stepped out into them I felt like I had come home. To finally be in Hong Kong was like stepping into Mother and Dad’s other world.”

Virginia says, “Because we were so certain about what Mother and Dad stood for, none of us had to worry about impressing others or appearing to be more than we are. That is just not Dad’s style. He refuses to take himself too seriously on things that don’t matter—simply because he is so sure of the things that do matter.”

At the gates to the zoo, Patricia and Luis’s mother was getting a stroller for their little brother, Marcos.
“No,” said Patricia as Luis tried to lead her through the gate. “I don’t want to go into the zoo.”
“Why not?” Luis asked.
“Because I’m scared. It’s full of all those big animals—and lots of big people too.”
“I’ll help you,” Luis said. “I’ll tell you a secret that Mother told me.”
“What secret?” Patricia asked.
“All the animals began as baby animals, just like we were once baby people,” Luis whispered.
“Really?”
“Yes.” Luis smiled at his sister. “Then the baby people grew into kids like us and kept on growing until they became big people. And the baby animals grew into kid-age animals and then grown-up, big animals—see?”
“I’m still scared,” Patricia said.
“Look,” Luis said, “cover your eyes and imagine a baby giraffe.”
She covered her eyes and saw a baby giraffe wearing a bonnet. Patricia laughed and said, “This is fun. Now it’s your turn. Cover your eyes and see a baby policeman.”
Luis imagined a baby policeman standing in a crib. He grinned. “OK, cover your eyes and see a baby bear.”
Patricia put her hands over her eyes and saw a baby bear sitting in a high chair. She giggled. “Cover your eyes and imagine a baby clown.”
Up went Luis’s hands, and he saw a baby clown holding a bouquet of balloons. Luis clapped his hands. “Cover your eyes and see a baby lion.”
Patricia saw a baby lion in a playpen. “Hands off,” she said. “See a baby whale.”
Luis hooted when he saw a baby whale swimming in a bathtub. “Cover your eyes and see a baby ticket-taker,” he told Patricia.
Patricia saw a baby ticket-taker taking tickets. “Hey,” she said, “cover your eyes and see a baby elephant.”
Luis saw a baby elephant brushing its tusks. “One more,” he said. “Cover your eyes and see a baby zookeeper.”
Patricia laughed when she saw a baby zookeeper feeding the giraffe. “Know what?” Patricia asked. “Big animals and big people aren’t so scary after all!”
“That’s right.” Luis smiled. “Let’s both cover our eyes and see what we will look like when we are grown-ups.”
They covered their eyes. Luis imagined that he was an astronaut, and Patricia imagined that she was a baseball player.
“Wow!” Luis yelled.
Patricia looked very happy. “I’m not afraid any more. Thanks Luis. Here comes Mommy. Let’s race her and Marcos to the gate and go see the animals.”

An experience, repeated many times during my time as mission president and again as branch president at the Missionary Training Center, confirmed for me the truth of Joseph Smith’s statement that “the Book of Mormon was the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.”1 From time to time, one of my missionaries would sit with me, and our interview would go something like this:
“President, I seem to have lost my enthusiasm for missionary work lately. I haven’t felt very spiritual either.”
“Can you be more specific in what you have been feeling?” I would ask.
“Oh, I just haven’t been feeling positive, excited, or enthused about doing the work.”
“Have you felt this way long?”
“For about the last three weeks.”
“Has something happened personally that we need to talk about?”
“No, President. I am keeping all the mission rules. I get up on time. I read scriptures daily. I am currently reading the Old Testament. I say my prayers. My companion and I get along well. I really can’t find anything that is out of order.”
“Are you reading the Book of Mormon as part of your scripture studies?”
“No.”
“I would like you to try something for several weeks and then give me a call. In addition to your regular study in the missionary gospel study program, try reading and studying at least one chapter from the Book of Mormon a day.”
Two weeks later the missionary would call and report that things were fine and his spiritual intensity had returned.

Nine-year-old Carrie hurried around the corner of the grocery store aisle, trying to keep the cart out of the reach of her six-year-old brother, Andy.
“No fair!” he cried. “You’ve pushed it the whole time we’ve been here.” He tried to grab the cart, but Carrie twisted it away, accidentally hitting a row of ketchup bottles lined up neatly on a shelf. Two of the bottles crashed to the floor and shattered, spraying their bright red contents everywhere. The two children stared in horror at the broken glass and scarlet ketchup.
Mom came around the corner just then, saying, “I want you two to stay with me …” Her words trailed off as she saw the mess on the floor and the misery on Carrie’s and Andy’s faces.
“It looks like there’s been an accident,” she said. “It’s all right. Sometimes things break and have to be cleaned up.”
Mom found a clerk, who cleaned up the ketchup and glass without getting mad at Carrie or Andy. Carrie still felt terrible. She knew it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been swinging the cart to keep it away from Andy. Before they left the store, she quietly told Mom how the bottles had been broken. Mom listened solemnly while Andy stood with a scared expression on his face.
“Are we in trouble?” Andy asked, struggling to keep from crying.
Mom hugged Andy. “No, I think you feel bad enough about what happened that you’ll be more careful in the grocery store from now on. But, Carrie, what do you think you need to do to make up for the store losing those two bottles of ketchup?”
“I think I need to pay for them. I didn’t mean to break them, but it was still my fault,” Carrie replied.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Mom said. “I can lend you the money for now, and you can pay me back at home.”
At the cash register, Mom explained that Carrie had been playing with the cart when the bottles broke, so she wanted to pay for the ketchup. The clerk thanked Carrie for being honest, and Carrie felt much better.
At home, Carrie didn’t feel quite as good when she gave Mom part of the money she had been saving for a tape player, but she was glad she didn’t have that sick feeling she had experienced after the bottles exploded on the floor. She remembered how red everything looked. She had been afraid the ketchup would stain the floor, forever reminding her of her mistake. But it had come clean with a wet mop.
A few months later, Carrie finished Sunday dinner and flopped down on the couch with a big sigh.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked. “That’s a pretty heavy sigh for a Sunday afternoon.”
“Mom, I have to give a talk in Primary next Sunday on Jesus’ Atonement. I’m not even sure I know what the Atonement is.”
“This sounds like a good Sunday activity,” Mom said, sitting on the couch next to Carrie. “Tell me what you do know.”
Carrie was quiet for a moment. Then she replied, “I think it’s when Jesus suffered for our sins. If we repent, we don’t have to suffer any more for them because He already did. Then we can be forgiven.”
“Good!” Mom said, squeezing Carrie’s arm warmly. “You understand a lot. Tell me about being forgiven. What does that mean?”
“Well, I guess it means that we’re not in trouble anymore.” Carrie thought some more. “I mean, Heavenly Father forgives us, and we can forget about what happened.”
“Do we forget completely?” Mom asked quickly.
“Well, no—we have to remember never to do that wrong thing again. And we have to try to make up for what we did, like me apologizing to Andy if I yell at him or something. But once we’re forgiven, we don’t have to keep feeling bad. But, Mom,” Carrie asked, “how do I explain this to the kids in Primary? The three-year-olds are going to be totally lost!”
Mom was excited, her eyes twinkling. “Do you think they’d like a flannel-board story?”
“Sure. But how can I do that for the Atonement?”
“Think ketchup,” Mom said mysteriously.
Carrie looked at her in confusion, then cried, “Perfect!” as she bounced off the couch and hurried into the kitchen for paper, pencils, and construction paper. Carrie worked on her talk all afternoon, cutting out figures and thinking about her story.
The next week even the Sunbeams forgot to wiggle in their chairs as Carrie gave her talk. She put up a cut-out shape of a ketchup bottle, then the broken container with a big pool of red below it. The children were shocked by the thought of breaking two whole bottles of bright red ketchup.
Carrie explained, “We can make mistakes that seem too horrible to be forgiven. But if we repent, we can become clean from sin, just as ketchup can be mopped up off a floor.” She took down the picture of the broken bottle and replaced it with a picture of a sparkling clean floor.
“Jesus helps us ‘clean up’ when we commit a sin if we feel truly sorry and try to repair the damage we’ve done. He has suffered for our sins, so we don’t have to feel guilty forever. He helps us feel good again after we repent.”
She ended her talk with a scripture from the Bible, explaining that even if our sins are like scarlet, we can become white as snow through repentance, because of the Atonement (see Isa. 1:18).
As Carrie sat down, she looked at Mom sitting on the back row of the Primary room. Mom winked, and Carrie smiled back. This was the best talk she’d ever given. Maybe the rest of the family would like a repeat for family home evening!

Being a missionary, as long as I have time, let me give you one or two little missionary experiences to indicate what Isaiah meant when he said that they would worship Him by the precepts of men.
As I finished my first mission over in Amsterdam, over seventy-five years ago, I was invited into the home of one of the Saints to talk to her neighbor. When my companion and I arrived, the neighbor was there but she had her minister with her. We had a little difference of opinion on priesthood, and right there he challenged me to a debate in his church the next Saturday night.
When we arrived, the church was full; all of his people were there, and all of our people. How our people found it out, I don’t know; I didn’t tell them!
The minister stood up and said, “Now, inasmuch as Mr. Richards is a guest in our church, we will accord him the privilege of opening this debate, and we will each talk for twenty minutes. Is that agreeable with you, Mr. Richards?”
I said, “Very much.” I didn’t tell him, but I would have given him the shirt off my back for the privilege of opening that debate, and he just handed it to me on a silver platter! I didn’t know whether the Lord had anything to do with it or not, but I thought He did!
Then I stood up and I said, “The last time I talked with my friend, we had a difference of opinion on priesthood. Tonight I have come prepared to discuss that subject, but I don’t propose to start at that point. (This was one of my strong points in my mission.) If you are going to build a house, you don’t try to put a roof on it before you get the foundation in.” They agreed with that, so I said, “I propose to lay the foundation of the gospel of Jesus Christ,” and I chose for my text the sixth chapter of Hebrews where Paul said:
“Leaving the principles of the doctrine of Christ, let us go on unto perfection; not laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works, and of faith toward God,
“Of the doctrine of baptisms, and of laying on of hands, and of resurrection of the dead, and of eternal judgment.” (Heb. 6:1–2.)
I hurried over faith and repentance—I thought they believed in them. I spoke on baptism by immersion for the remission of sin until everybody was giving me accord.
Then it came to the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost. And they didn’t believe that. I never found a church that did believe it outside of our Church—they think the Holy Ghost comes just like the breezes that blow over the head. I quoted them the passage saying that when the Apostles at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had accepted the word of God through the preaching of Philip, they sent Peter and John. And when they came, they prayed for them, they laid their hands upon them, and they received the Holy Ghost. And when Simon the sorcerer saw that the Holy Ghost was conveyed by the laying on of the Apostles’ hands, he offered them money, saying: “Give me also this power, that on whomsoever I lay my hands, he may receive the Holy Ghost.
“But Peter said unto him, Thy money perish with thee, because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be purchased with money.” (Acts 8:19–20.)
And then I gave them a few more references on the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost, and sat down.
The minister stood up and talked for twenty minutes, and he never once mentioned a word I had said. He started on the Mountain Meadows Massacre and the “Mormon Bible,” and stated that Joseph Smith had admitted he had made many mistakes; and then in a most courteous manner, he said: “Now if Mr. Richards will enlighten us on these matters, I am sure this audience will be most appreciative.”
I was on my feet just like that. (My companion later said, “How did you think so fast?” I said, “What have you been praying for all week?”) I said, “In the days of the Savior, his enemies tried to trick him with cunning and craftiness. I don’t suppose there’s anybody here tonight that would like to see us resort to those old tactics.” I said, “If I understand a debate, it is the presentation of argument and the answering of those presentations. Has this man answered any of my arguments?”
Everybody said, “No.”
I said, “All right, my friend, you may have your twenty minutes over again.” He couldn’t do it, and I knew he couldn’t.
Finally his wife stood up in the audience, and she said, “What Mr. Richards is asking you is fair. You ought to answer him.”
But he couldn’t do it, and I said to my companion, “Stand up and give me my coat and hat.” I said, “One more chance. I am willing to remain here until ten o’clock tomorrow morning, when we have to be in our own church, provided this debate can go forward on the basis that you set it up. If not, I am going to leave and ask my companion to leave and ask our members to leave, and we will leave it with you to settle with your people for what has transpired here tonight.”
I met him on the street a number of times after that, but he would duck his head so he didn’t need to speak to me! Now that is what Isaiah meant when he said they would teach for doctrines the precepts of men.

I was with President Lee on one occasion in New York City, where he had an interview with George Cornell, the senior writer of religion for the Associated Press. As we sat there, George Cornell said to President Lee, “I’d like to talk to you about some of the controversial aspects of your Church.”

As he mentioned one or two of them, Brother Lee said, “George, your readers do not want to hear about that. What your readers want to hear about is the great welfare program of the Church and the outstanding education program of the Church.” Mr. Cornell began to take notes, and as a result an almost full-page story from the Associated Press described our educational effort and our welfare program. No mention whatsoever was made of the controversial subjects of that time. This was the persuasive ability of Harold B. Lee.

I continued to read extensively about the Church, and the missionaries continued to encourage me. Finally I decided to put Moroni’s promise to the test (see Moroni 10:4–5). I wanted to know whether the Book of Mormon came from God or whether it was just a nice novel.
One day in June 1995 while I was alone at home, I knelt at the foot of my bed and asked Heavenly Father, “Is the Book of Mormon true, and if so, when should I be baptized?” Suddenly I felt in my heart and in my mind a clear voice that told me, “The Book of Mormon is true.” I then had a clear impression when to be baptized. A week later I prayed again and received the same answer. My heart was bursting with joy. I now knew that God had spoken to me: the Book of Mormon was inspired of God and Joseph Smith was a true prophet.
Finally, on September 17, 1995, I entered the waters of baptism, a year and a half since I started meeting with the missionaries. Soon our daughter, Aba Chiara, became interested in the Church and was also baptized. In January 1997 our family was sealed in the Bern Switzerland Temple.