Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago an associate of mine decided he would please his wife by sharing with her a specific compliment each night as he arrived home. One night he praised her cooking. A second night he thanked her for excellence in housekeeping. A third night he acknowledged her fine influence on the children. The fourth night, before he could speak, she said, “I know what you are doing. I thank you for it. But don’t say any of those things. Just tell me you think I am beautiful.”
She expressed an important need she had. Women ought to be praised for all the gifts they possess—including their attentiveness to their personal appearance—that so unselfishly add to the richness of the lives of others. We must not let ourselves go and become so casual—even sloppy—in our appearance that we distance ourselves from the beauty heaven has given us.

When they joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my friend and her husband joyfully learned family relationships need not be “until death do you part.” In the house of the Lord, families can be united eternally (sealed).

But my friend did not want to be sealed to her father. “He was not a nice husband to my mother. He was not a nice dad to his children,” she said. “My dad will have to wait. I do not have any desire to do his temple work and be sealed with him in eternity.”

For a year, she fasted, prayed, spoke a lot with the Lord about her father. Finally, she was ready. Her father’s temple work was completed. Later, she said, “In my sleep my dad appeared to me in a dream, all dressed in white. He had changed. He said, ‘Look at me. I am all clean. Thank you for doing the work for me in the temple.’” Her father added, “Get up and go back to the temple; your brother is waiting to be baptized.”

My friend says, “My ancestors and those that have passed on are eagerly waiting for their work to be done.”

“As for me,” she says, “the temple is a place of healing, learning, and acknowledging the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”

The other evening in Phoenix, Arizona, I interviewed a young man who had traveled for four or five hours to see me. He wanted to go on a mission, but his previous behavior had cast a serious cloud over that possibility. He told me that he had been totally divorced from the Church, as had been every other member of his family. But at his job he met a man who was a member of the Church and who lived in the same ward in which he lived, and the man asked the bishop for the opportunity to try to touch this boy. The man started by telling the boy that he was a home teacher. The boy asked what that was. The man explained, and invited the boy to go with him. The boy, out of curiosity, agreed to try it. They went the first time; it wasn’t too bad. Another time followed. The man suggested that the boy read the Book of Mormon.

“Who do you think I am that I would take time to read that long book?” was the response.

The man pleaded with the boy, “Read just five minutes a day.”

“Not on your life,” came the reply.

“Then read just one minute a day,” the man challenged.

The boy finally agreed to read one minute a day. A glow came into his eyes as he told me that the one minute became five minutes, and then thirty minutes, and then an hour, and he added, “That’s why I’ve driven five hours to come to see you, to see if I can go on a mission.”

In May of 1997, my husband Tavita Mamea took a group on a temple trip to Apia Samoa Temple as a member of the Mapusaga Fou Stake presidencies, a part of the one hundred years’ centennial celebration of the church in American Samoa. Two days later, he called, “Honey, change of plans, get the children ready we’re moving to Hawaii.”

From a mother’s perspective, I thought: “How is it possible? There is no way we’ll live in the United States without legal documents except our visitor visas at the time.” However, I acknowledged my husband’s priesthood authority, and obeyed him. In August of 1997, our family of four’s journey began to the unknown world. We put our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and believed He would hear and answer our prayers. My husband Tavita, a faithful servant who dedicated his life in serving the Lord, was a temple ordinance worker just after few months upon our arrival in Hawaii. He served as a high councilman in the Laie North Stake. A bishop for five years in the Laie 9th Ward, and was also a bishop for eight years in Mapusaga Fou Ward, a high councilman, and Stake Presidency in American Samoa.

The challenge on our legal status to stay in the United States continued. However, cultural differences, or any other circumstances would not stop my husband from being persistent, as he continued to seek the Lord’s help. Through Tavita’s faith, along with my support, we have been standing side by side as we persevered, seeking guidance from our loving Heavenly Father.

In May of 1999, we received the answer to our many prayers. Our immigration application was approved through an Immigration lottery that allowed us to stay legally in the United States. According to the immigration officer who interviewed us, it is unheard of for both a husband and wife’s names to be selected from this lottery at any one time. In July of 2000, we received the key to our new home in Kahuku where we are currently residing.

When I was four years old, I found out that I had to get my frenulum (a part of the tongue that connects it to the mouth) clipped. I was really scared the day of my operation. I said a prayer to Heavenly Father that everything would be all right. At the hospital, the doctor gave me some medicine, and I went to sleep. When I woke up, the next thing I knew I was in my mom’s arms, and I didn’t cry. I believe that Heavenly Father helped me through the operation without feeling pain.

During a general conference session President McKay told of a personal experience from his life that illustrates this point. He said that he was out hunting cattle and while climbing a steep hill he stopped his horse to let it rest. In his words,

An intense desire came over me to receive a manifestation of the truth of the restored gospel. I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there, under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith. I am sure that I prayed fervently and sincerely and with as much faith as a young boy could muster.

At the conclusion of prayer I rose from my knees, threw the reins over my faithful pony’s head, and got into the saddle. As I started along the trail again, I remember saying to myself, “No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself I must say I am just the same ‘old boy’ that I was before I prayed.” I prayed again when I crossed Spring Creek near Huntsville (with the same result). [Conference Report, October 1969]

Then he added that much later on, when he was in the mission field, a singularly spiritual experience came during the equivalent of a zone conference today. A powerful, unmistakable witness came in answer to his supplication. It came when he needed it, when it was more important to confirm other promptings of the spirit.

Shannon, whose husband faced a pornography addiction, attended the support group for spouses. As she participated, she noticed a change in herself as well. At first she focused on the pain she felt over her husband’s addiction. But then, as she started learning and applying the steps, a miraculous change occurred. She says, “I began talking less and less about my husband and more about what I had learned from each step. I began to see how the Lord was working in my life.”

Eleven years ago last fall I was dating my wife, Janice. The week before Thanksgiving I invited her to come home with me to southern Utah for the holiday weekend. She accepted. And then, once again, I became really scared. I had taken girls on road trips home before, and, for those familiar with Interstate 15 between Provo and southern Utah, usually by about the town of Nephi these became the longest weekends of my life. I started to think of ways that I could uninvite Janice. With fears swirling in my head, I came to campus on the Monday before Thanksgiving. Preparing to teach my class that day, I stumbled across these words at the beginning of Doctrine and Covenants 67:

Behold and hearken, O ye elders of my church, who have assembled yourselves together, whose prayers I have heard, and whose hearts I know, and whose desires have come up before me.10
As a thirty-year-old elder, I had the desire and had been praying for a long time that I might find a spouse and begin an eternal companionship. I could relate to these early Saints.

The Lord continued:

Behold and lo, mine eyes are upon you, and the heavens and the earth are in mine hands, and the riches of eternity are mine to give.11
While I was in my office in the Joseph Smith Building that morning, the thought struck me: “Maybe marriage is one of the riches of eternity, and maybe it is God’s to give.”

The revelation then warned:

Ye endeavored to believe that ye should receive the blessing which was offered unto you; but behold, verily I say unto you there were fears in your hearts, and verily this is the reason that ye did not receive.12
I realized that if I didn’t face my fear of an uncertain future, I might never receive the blessings the Lord had in store for me.

I took Janice home for Thanksgiving, and the weekend went wonderfully. While returning to Provo, however, my worst fears of carrying on an extended conversation with a girl were realized: a snowstorm forced the closure of Interstate 15, and the two of us were stranded together in the car between the Utah towns of Beaver and Fillmore for several hours with no choice but to simply talk to each other. As our three-hour road trip home turned into seven, I realized that if we could survive this time together, maybe we also could face my fears of eternal marriage together.

I learned a valuable lesson from these experiences: as you exercise faith to overcome fears of future uncertainty, you will see God’s hand in your life.

As soon as I heard this year’s theme was “Ask of God,” I thought there was no way I would receive an answer. I believed I was completely hopeless, so why even waste my time? However a small voice of hope whispered to me, saying, maybe this is it. This could be my chance to seek and receive the answers I’ve been looking for. So with a bit of hope built up inside of me I began to ask of God.
I asked Him how I could be happy even with the extremely unfortunate circumstances of my life, and why would anyone even expect me to be happy?
It took me a few months before I realized I had received my answer, but it wasn’t exactly the answer I had been expecting when I first started to pray about it.
I was waiting for my prayers to be answered by having my life somehow magically become possible to live happily, but instead something better happened. A seed of faith in the gospel had been planted within my heart.
As that seed grew and my testimony became stronger, I felt peace, I felt hope, I felt my Savior’s love. And that’s when I received my answer.
I realized that “the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”1
Although the problems and circumstances in my life didn’t change, the focus of my life did.
I began to start being involved in the Church and focusing my life on the gospel again. And that’s when I felt and still feel true happiness, even with my struggles.
Getting through each day has never been easier now that I rely on God and invite the Spirit to be with me. I didn’t just get an answer to my prayers; I now have a strong testimony. I now have day-to-day support, I now see God’s love more than ever, and above all I get to experience pure joy in life.
Ashley B., Texas, USA

You young people are a wonderful sight. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was young and in school. After graduating, I started my career teaching automotive technology at a large high school where about 180 students passed through my classroom door—my shop door—each day. I was also teaching a night class once a week for the county vehicle emissions program. My wife, Shelly, and I were raising our children, striving to live the gospel the best that we knew how, and I was working on a master’s degree. I was also serving as the ward Young Men’s president. I felt that I could not handle one more thing. Shelly and I were both happy and we were busy.
I received a phone call one evening from a brother in our ward who was the ward activities chairperson. He asked if I could have the young men perform a skit for the ward activity that was scheduled in three weeks. I assured him I could. Unfortunately, I put off the assignment and didn’t give it much thought until he called me about three nights before the ward activity to see if the young men were prepared to perform their skit. I said, “I’m sorry, we won’t be performing anything that night. We are not prepared.” He retorted, “I gave you an assignment and you agreed to it. I expect—the ward expects—that you will have the young men ready for their part that night.”
I was puzzled and bothered at his response, and I wanted to react. But something inside me—a feeling—helped me understand that I needed to be CAUTIOUS in my reply. I didn’t realize it then, but looking back, I now see that I was in a moment of what Steven R. Covey describes as the space between stimulus and response.
So how did I respond to the good brother in my ward who asked me to have the young men perform a skit at a ward social? This one time, I happened to listen to a quiet, calm feeling that prompted me to reply in a cautious way and to not take offense. As I did so, a feeling of relief swept over me as I changed my answer of not being prepared and unsupportive to the prior response that I had agreed to initially. I reassured him that the young men would take part in the ward activity.
After I hung up the phone, an impression came to my mind in a clear way. It was this: that the young men of the ward would be much better served by my not taking offense, and instead to be supportive of the ward activity AND to a fellow ward member who was trying to do his best in fulfilling his calling.
I was then prompted to call one of my counselors and explained what we needed to come up with in three days, who, after listening to me and the predicament I had gotten myself into, said, “Leave it to me. I have an idea that the young men and the ward members will all enjoy.” Here again a feeling of relief and gratitude came as this load was lifted from me. I gained a confidence that day that being willing to receive correction is part of life and that the Lord is generous to us as we strive to improve ourselves. A few days later, the young men did perform their skit, and thanks to my fellow presidency member, it was a success.
There is more to this story: about 18 months after this ward activity, the good brother who was our activities chair was called to serve as bishop of our ward, and he asked that I serve as a counselor to him in the new bishopric. It was then that I became even more appreciative that I did not react but responded to him in a positive way.

Before I begin my message to you this afternoon, I want to respond briefly to the request made by President Bednar. He asked that I share with you some thoughts regarding the First Presidency's formation of the new Idaho Area.
I first heard about this last March, just before April conference. I was at work when my secretary (who, incidentally, is not a member of the Church) buzzed me on the intercom and said, "Boyd K. Packer is on the line for you." I said, "I'll take it." And I did. President Packer said something like this: "Scott, we would like to make a change in your assignment. Effective August 15th the North America Northwest Area will be divided, and a new Idaho Area will be created. It will cover the boundaries of the Idaho Pocatello and Boise Missions and will include about 100 stakes. We are calling a new Area Presidency, composed entirely of Area Authority Seventies. We would like you to serve as the Area president."
He then went on to tell me who my two counselors would be, Elders D. Rex Gerratt and Ronald L. Loveland. He explained that we would continue our full-time employment while we carried out the Area Presidency assignment on a Church-service basis, just like bishops and stake presidents do.
It has been a wonderful experience for us. We are thoroughly impressed with the caliber of leadership of the Church in the Idaho Area and the faithfulness of the members in the area.

Years later, as I prepared for a mission, I found myself questioning my motives for serving. I felt that there was nothing particularly special about my testimony or about me. I wondered if I was preparing for a mission out of obligation to my parents and my leaders, who had worked hard to teach me the gospel. I even thought the Lord might be better off without my service.
One day while I was reading the Book of Mormon, Abinadi’s words touched my heart:
“He shall be led, crucified, and slain. …
“And thus God breaketh the bands of death, having gained the victory over death. …
“And now I say unto you, who shall declare his generation?” (Mosiah 15:7–8, 10; emphasis added).
I read that last line over and over, wondering if it had been there before. By reading the New Testament, I knew of the Savior’s life and of the generation of those who had walked with Him. But those of the Savior’s generation cannot visit people today to teach of His love, His Atonement, and His Church. So how could I justify not sharing my testimony of Him?
The Lord wanted me to share the good news of the gospel I had received. I knew the gospel to be true, and I wanted to share the truths I had learned while reading the scriptures.
Soon after this experience I left on my mission. Today I can attribute the desire I had to serve to what I had learned about the Savior as a young student reading the scriptures.

Another time when I felt really hopeless, I went to my room and said a prayer that Heavenly Father would let me know that everything was OK—that I was OK. I was worried about mistakes I’d made in the past and wondered if life would ever get easier. Then I opened up to Isaiah; that’s just what I do when I’m feeling down. And here’s what I read, first thing: “Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert” (Isaiah 43:18–19). And I was so grateful, I just cried. In those verses, I felt God telling me not to stay focused on the past but to move forward with faith. He had miracles in the works for me, and I would know them when I saw them.

Later, after I started dating the wonderful guy I’d end up marrying, I reread this scripture and, of course, I cried. Again. God had done “a new thing” and truly had made “a way in the wilderness.” And I did know it.

Like most boys from Whitney, “T” had outstanding parents. His mother was noted for her sense of humor and sunny disposition. She had a unique gift for teaching a boy without criticizing him. One day on the way home from school, “T” took exception to the way his cousin George was treating Joe, “T’s” younger brother.

“I finally said, ‘If you do that once more, I’ll hit you.’ He went on teasing Joe, and as a result we got into a fight. We had quite a struggle in the dirt as well as on our feet, and I made George’s nose bleed.

“It finally ended, and George went home as we did. When I arrived home Mother noticed the blood on my hands and on my shirt and asked what had happened. Of course, I explained. She didn’t chastize me for defending my younger and smaller brother, but she did say, ‘T,’ I was going to bake some bread, but I’m right out of yeast. I want you to go over to Aunt Lulu’s (George’s mother) and get some.’ I said, ‘Mother, don’t ask me to do that after I’ve had this fight with George.’ She said, ‘That makes no difference. I need the yeast and I want you to go to your Aunt Lulu’s and get the start.’”

In having to go to his aunt’s home and face his cousin George, “T” learned more about settling disputes than a lecture could have taught him.

My most tender meeting with Howard W. Hunter took place on October 3, 1963, as I entered the outer office of President David O. McKay, who had invited me to come and visit with him that Thursday afternoon—for what purpose I knew not at that time. Howard W. Hunter had been checking some matters with President McKay’s secretary. Brother Hunter and I greeted each other and shook hands. I noted the tears in his eyes with yet a smile on his lips and a catch in his voice. I did not understand why he was so emotional. After visiting with President McKay, where he extended to me my call to the Twelve, I understood. Howard W. Hunter had known why I was there that afternoon. He had been where I was now going. He had felt the feelings I was soon to experience.

One final illustration related to the Munich conference didn’t happen in Munich, but in Holland. Just after the conference, Brother de Jager, Regional Representative of the Twelve, was in his own ward. There, interestingly enough, he heard the choir sing at sacrament meeting, not in Dutch, but in German. He asked them afterward, “Why are you singing in German in the sacrament meeting?”

They, with spiritual smiles on their faces, said, “Brother de Jager, this is one of the hymns we learned at the area general conference.” You remember the occupation of Holland by the Germans, and yet you see how the Saints had reciprocated the Spirit of the Lord.

Swish! The basketball sank through the hoop as the final buzzer rang. Josh had made the shot! They had won the game! He jumped up and down and high-fived his teammates as the bleachers roared to life. “Go Lions!” all the parents yelled, and Josh smiled to hear his mom cheering loudest of all.
On the drive home, Josh couldn’t stop grinning as he replayed the game in his head. “Wow,” he thought. “I’m so lucky to be a part of this team. And my coach is really great too.” He thought of how Coach John always complimented every player and did funny cheers to get the team excited.
“And I’m glad Mom and Dad let me sign up this year,” he thought. They’d even come to his games. Sometimes he felt silly when Mom cheered so loudly, but he was secretly happy his family was there.
He started to list other blessings in his mind. He had a nice teacher this year who helped him with math. His family had just gotten a dog, and Josh found out he was pretty good at training animals! Just last week, he found out his Primary friends would be going to camp with him, and Josh couldn’t wait to learn some new sports there … The list could go on forever, Josh thought with a smile on his face. Heavenly Father had given him fun talents and loving family members and chances to try new things.
“Mom?” he said.
“Yes, Josh?”
“I just love being me! If I were somebody else, I would wish I were me!”
Mom laughed and squeezed his knee. “You are pretty great, kiddo!”
Josh turned to face her. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks for everything.” He grinned and settled back in his seat. Winning a basketball game was great, but just being himself was the best feeling of all.

After the initial strain and misunderstandings that stemmed from my conversion to the Church, my family members and I learned to apply tolerance and respect in our relationships with each other. For example, once I became a Latter-day Saint, I participated in different Sunday activities. Instead of playing soccer, I attended church. When my family members realized why I changed my Sunday activities, they showed understanding and respect. In the same way, I was respectful of their traditions. For instance, I did not criticize my parents for not having family prayer. Mutual respect has been very important in our family.

However, collaborating across the organization is not the same thing as giving up programs in which we have invested our expertise and identity. But, here again, I have seen people with great hearts respond beautifully to changes.

For example, a chief source of funding and positions for the new School of Family Life has come from the former department of Clothing and Textiles, which was just formally terminated this year. I can tell you from personal experience with our colleagues in that department that they were, to a person, opposed to the decision we finally made to close the department. They were articulate defenders of the programs they had so lovingly and skillfully developed. However, once the decision was made, they have made great efforts to find new ways to contribute. One faculty member is currently helping the Theatre and Media Arts program, another is in the Chemistry Department, and the rest of the faculty, along with the staff and office support, have gone to the new School of Family Life. This infusion of people and resources into the family work will prove to be invaluable. As I mentioned earlier, the opportunity to align with student, Church, and societal needs brings light and excitement and the opportunity to be a standard to the world. This was not a choice between good work and bad work. This choice, like almost all of our choices, was between two or more good things.

When I was a university student, I knew I wanted to take a specific career path. I had planned all my classes until graduation, and I had a business opportunity I was ready to accept. Everything was in place.
After counseling with Heavenly Father in prayer, however, I felt He was saying to me, “I need you to go in a different direction.” Soon after that, an opportunity to work for the Church appeared. It was completely unexpected, but I recognized it as a new direction He had prepared me to take.
I explained to my family that a new opportunity had opened as training and operations manager at the Pacific Missionary Training Center. This led to a position three years later as institute director with Seminaries and Institutes of Religion. My original career plan would have likely been more temporally prosperous, but we decided to see what would happen if we put our trust in the Lord.
That decision led to blessings the Lord seemed to have prepared for us. It has been amazing. We aren’t wealthy, but we have always had the things we need, and our children have been raised in a wonderful gospel environment.
I have never regretted my decision 23 years ago, though I have had to forsake some things and leave behind some people, places, possessions, and positions. But we have been happy to do that for Heavenly Father. Doing so has been a great blessing.