Gospel Story Finder

Here is a true story that relates a simple experience of a nineteen-year-old who became a remarkable one. He was magnified and had great powers beyond his natural abilities as the Lord acted through him. There was a young nineteen-year-old admirer of Joseph Smith, Philemon Merrill, who had come with other loyal followers to rescue their prophet from the hands of sheriffs Reynolds and Wilson. While returning to Nauvoo, the company rested “in a little grove of timber.” One of the lawyers for the sheriff and the kidnappers boasted of his wrestling powers. He offered a wager that he could throw any man in Illinois. Stephen Markham, a bodyguard of Joseph’s and a huge man, also an experienced wrestler, took up the challenge. The boaster threw Stephen, and a taunting shout went up from the Prophet’s enemies.

As the taunts continued, Joseph Smith turned to young Philemon Merrill and said: “Get up and throw that man.”

The boy was about to refuse, to excuse himself by saying he was not a wrestler, but the look in the Prophet’s eye silenced his tongue. “He arose to his feet filled with the strength of a Samson.” Philemon “lifted his arms” and told the lawyer to take his choice of sides.

“The man took the left side with his right hand under,” which gave him a decided advantage. Philemon Merrill’s friends protested, but young Philemon felt such confidence in the words of the Prophet that it made little difference to him what advantage his antagonist took. As they began to grapple, Joseph instructed him, “‘Philemon, when I count three, throw him!’

“On the instant after the word dropped from Joseph’s lips,” Philemon Merrill, “with the strength of a giant, threw the lawyer over his left shoulder, and he fell striking his head upon the earth.”

Little wonder it is reported that “awe fell upon the opponents of the Prophet when they saw this, and there were no more challenges to wrestle during the journey” (George Q. Cannon, Life of Joseph Smith the Prophet, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1964, pp. 450–51).

Returning home from my mission also meant returning to uncertainty. As I sought guidance from Heavenly Father through prayer and fasting, I received revelation that I needed to move to the United States and attend Brigham Young University, which seemed like a nearly impossible task.
I did the best I could and took the next best steps. Sometimes I felt like I was going nowhere—I was working as hard as I could, but I didn’t know for sure that my efforts would help me reach my goals. However, my main goal was to follow what the Lord wanted me to do, and that goal was precious to me.
My main goal was to follow what the Lord wanted me to do, and that goal was precious to me.
As I made those efforts, one day I felt inspired to reach out to my good friend who was from the United States and living in my hometown. I didn’t know how things would turn out at the time—I reached out simply because the Spirit had directed me to—but my friend and his father ended up being instrumental in helping me know what to do to apply and get the visa I needed to study at BYU. With their help and with tremendous sacrifices made by my mother to pay for my travel, I made it there. It was a miracle.
My life kept progressing in the same way. I would do my best and then receive inspiration, one thing at a time, for what I should do next. In that manner, I got a job at the missionary training center, found ways to pay for my tuition, decided on a major, eventually graduated, and got married.
The answers I received weren’t always immediate and I never got a perfectly detailed plan, but I received assurances that the Lord was pleased with the direction I was headed in.

The social status Kim Ho Jik achieved is significant. Says Brother Han, “It was vital that such a politically and socially powerful person be involved in the establishment of the Church in Korea. Without Dr. Kim, [it] would have been delayed for a couple of decades.”
Indeed, approval of official legal status for the Church in South Korea appeared unlikely. “The name Mormon meant ‘heathen,’ ‘pagan,’” Brother Han recalls. Latter-day Saint missionaries were not allowed in Korea because “they were not recognized … as decent Christian missionaries.”
Brother Kim’s appointment to the Seoul Board of Education in 1956 proved fortunate, since all the city’s religious matters came under its jurisdiction. He personally took before the board a proposal for the Church’s incorporation in Korea. With his endorsement, it passed. “It was almost a miracle,” Brother Han says.
Kim Ho Jik also put his reputation on the line to gain permission for Latter-day Saint missionaries to enter South Korea, agreeing to be their financial sponsor and guaranteeing that they would do no harm to the Korean people. The first two full-time missionaries arrived from Japan in April, 1956.
Brother Kim’s positive influence on the first generation of Korean Saints was perhaps equal in importance to his impact on missionary work. Brother Han, a former president of the Korean Mission and the first Korean to serve as a regional representative, joined the Church as a high school student. In 1956, he began attending the branch where Brother Kim taught Sunday School. He remembers that “Dr. Kim was the unofficial patriarchal figure and spiritual leader for all the Korean Saints. His integrity was a great strength to new members and investigators. We would think, ‘If Dr. Kim says he accepts this principle, we don’t need to worry about his truthfulness or his sincerity.’
“Even though he was the vice-minister of education, he would mingle with us teenagers,” Brother Han adds. “No one would expect something like that in Korean society. A man in that kind of position in the government would never do things like that with lay citizens, especially people as young and poor as we were. But he … was not ashamed to be with his brothers in the gospel, regardless of age, race, social rank, title, or whatever.”
Brother Kim’s rapport with young people proved valuable, since so many of the new Korean members were high school or college students. Rhee Ho Nam, another early convert who went on to serve as a mission president and regional representative, comments, “His whole purpose became to teach these young future leaders of the kingdom of God in Korea.”
His former pupils say much of Brother Kim’s most effective teaching was through example. “Korean society was rough immediately after the war,” says Brother Han. “Every day you could walk home, since there was not much public transportation in those days, and in more than half of the houses you passed, you could hear noisy quarrels between hungry wives and their drunken husbands. But Dr. Kim was living a heavenly life—there are no other words for the way he treated his wife and his family.”
Kim Ho Jik once told a group of Korean Saints, “I wouldn’t care if I had to give up my life, or my money, or my title, as long as I could be with my Savior.” If any of his listeners doubted his sincerity, the events of his life proved his commitment to serving God.
Once, for example, the Korea Broadcasting System invited him to lecture on a topic in biology during a nationwide broadcast. “During the entire ten minutes he was on, he talked only about the Church,” says Pak Jae Am, a supervisor in the Presiding Bishopric’s regional office in Seoul. “It was just like he was talking in his Sunday School class.”
Brother Kim also made a memorably bold statement of dedication to his faith in an episode that almost seems drawn from the Book of Daniel. Korean President Syngman Rhee decided one Sunday that he urgently needed to consult with his vice-minister of education. After searching for several hours, the presidents’ secretary found Kim Ho Jik teaching his Sunday School class. Brother Kim refused to leave until he finished his lesson. President Rhee, notorious for his harshness, was irate. But Brother Kim calmly explained that he considered nothing more important than his Sunday School teaching assignment and felt obliged to finish it before responding to the president’s summons. President Rhee patted Brother Kim on the shoulder and said, “Well done.”
Brother Kim resigned his national post in July of 1956 “because I wished to dedicate more time and energy to our Church.” He had been president of the Yurak-Dong Branch, and he had become the first Korea District president in 1955, holding that position until his death. His work included translating several pieces of Church literature from English into Korean.
Brother Kim represented Korea at a United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization meeting in India in August of 1959. Shortly after his return home, he met with Rhee Ho Nam, who noted that Brother Kim looked tired. Brother Kim replied that he had felt ill during the conference and was anxious to return home. Less than a month later, on August 31, he died of a stroke.
During Brother Kim’s funeral, “the presidents of nearly every university and college in Korea came around to pay their respects,” says F. Ray Hawkins, a missionary in Korea during the late 1950s who later became a mission president there. “Every single one of those men said that Brother Kim had personally, more than once, invited them out to church and had discussions about the gospel.” Brother Hawkins’s observation suggests a fitting epitaph: though he walked among the elite, Kim Ho Jik’s prestige was to him a mere tool for building the kingdom of God.
His service in the Church lasted only eight years, but his impact on its establishment in Korea cannot be measured. He was an exemplar of a new kind of Mormon pioneer, the kind who takes the gospel into new lands where the word “Mormon” is essentially unknown and the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has not yet been heard.

A few years ago I read a Reuters news service account of an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage to Seattle, carrying 150 passengers, which was diverted to a remote town on a mercy mission to rescue a badly injured boy. Two-year-old Elton Williams III had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home in Yakutat, 450 miles (725 kilometers) south of Anchorage. Medics at the scene asked the airline to evacuate the boy. As a result, the Anchorage-to-Seattle flight was diverted to Yakutat.
The medics said the boy was bleeding badly and probably would not live through the flight to Seattle, so the plane flew 200 miles (320 kilometers) to Juneau, the nearest city with a hospital. The flight then went on to Seattle, with the passengers arriving two hours late, most missing their connections. But none complained. In fact, they dug into their pocketbooks and took up a collection for the boy and his family.
Later, as the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot said he had received word by radio that Elton was going to be all right. Surely love of neighbor was in evidence.

As involved as the Drummonds are in sports, you might think their grades would suffer a bit. But not so. “They’re both on the honor roll,” says their dad. “They have to maintain B averages. That’s my rule. And no underwater basketweaving or sandwich making courses, either.” He then goes on to recite their schedules—solid, difficult classes every one, with the exception of baseball, which the Drummonds take very seriously. Of course, since Tom made the rules, he’s always there to help his kids accomplish them. It’s not uncommon to find the family studying together in the evenings.

Recently, I went on a trek with our quorum members to the infamous Gantam Dora Trek Path in the Kambalakonda Wildlife Sanctuary. The trek was three kilometers long. At the beginning, everything was smooth; I was ahead of everyone. But after climbing for only about five hundred meters, my heart rate spiked. I was feeling breathless, dizzy, and nauseous. I regretted having climbed this far and was seriously thinking about quitting.
But then, I remembered hearing about the breathtaking view—a panorama concealed from all who never put in the effort. After taking a few minutes to rest and hydrating my tongue with a few drops of water, I resumed the ascent with the help of my friend, Raj Bangaram. And there it was, after another kilometer of effort: a beautiful, stunning vista. Every struggle we endured seemed instantly worth it. We had a wonderful time trekking, and once I got down, I could not help but compare the incident with the trials we face in life.

It’s tough making the right choices when you’re 15 years old. But when your decisions affect the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, the pressure gets a little greater. That was the situation facing Amy Arreátegui Pozo when she was selected from 123 students to be the mayor of Trujillo, Peru, the third largest city in the country. Mayor for a day, that is.
When Amy was a Mia Maid in the Mousserat Ward, Trujillo Perú Laureles Stake, she attended a secondary school called the Academy of Engineering. “One of my goals,” says Amy, “was to become the student mayor [like a student-body president] from this school, and I did. That was my dream. My next goal was to win the ‘Mayor for a Day’ contest, and here I am. I finally made it. What helped me win was my confidence in myself.”
Of course, showing that she had a lot of great ideas about improving schools and neighborhoods in the city also helped. Coming up with these ideas for the contest was a lot of work, but deciding which ones to include was pretty easy. To decide, Amy used a method she’s come to depend on—a method that has given her the confidence she talks about. It’s the process of asking and receiving answers through prayer.
“Always go to Heavenly Father when you’re making a decision, and you will always make the right choice,” Amy says. That’s one reason she could handle the responsibility so well when the city of Trujillo issued the resolution recognizing her as “mayor for a day.” The city council acted to accept her activities during her 24 hours as mayor. All contracts, decisions, and authorizations would be legally binding.

These remarkable events were preceded by a special dedication of the land.
On a Sunday morning, April 27, 1975, I stood on an outcropping of rock situated between the cities of Dresden and Meissen, high above the Elbe River, and offered a prayer on the land and its people. That prayer noted the faith of the members. It emphasized the tender feelings of many hearts filled with an overwhelming desire to obtain temple blessings. A plea for peace was expressed. Divine help was requested. I spoke the words: “Dear Father, let this be the beginning of a new day for the members of Thy Church in this land.”
Suddenly, from far below in the valley, a bell in a church steeple began to chime and the shrill crow of a rooster broke the morning silence, each heralding the commencement of a new day. Though my eyes were closed, I felt a warmth from the sun’s rays reaching my face, my hands, my arms. How could this be? An incessant rain had been falling all morning.
At the conclusion of the prayer, I gazed heavenward. I noted a ray of sunshine which streamed from an opening in the heavy clouds, a ray which engulfed the spot where our small group stood. From that moment I knew divine help was at hand.

One of the sweetest experiences I had in the temple was working with children who were being sealed to their parents. I once asked a little boy, “What are you doing here in the temple?”
He said, “I came with my parents to be sealed.”
I asked, “What does that mean?”
He said, “We will be a family forever.”
I said, “That’s a wonderful answer. You must have a good family if you want to be with them forever.”
His eyes lit up, and he said, “Yes, I do.” Children can feel the sacredness and seriousness of the temple.

As part of their ministering, Elder Tune, President Kendall and the missionaries brought a much-needed laptop and monitor to donate to Chevalier Catholic High School on Abemama, where over 500 students from other small islands board.
“It was a humbling experience to see their computer lab. We walked into the building with the ‘computer lab’ sign over the door and there were no computers there. So, when we came with a laptop and a screen, the principal and the students were so excited! Now they have a computer in their lab,” Elder Tune said.

All through school, I had had the same group of friends. But one year, a new student started at our school, and unlike me, he was popular. But I still somehow became his friend. In the months following, we became closer until we were best friends.
I was in the habit of going to seminary immediately after school. One day he asked me where I went every day. I decided to explain all about the Church, but from the look on his face, I realized this wasn’t the best way to talk to him. So I stopped talking so insistently.
A few months later the elders were coming over to my house at the same time some friends and I were meeting there to do homework. This friend was one of them, so I asked the elders to talk a little about the Church. He was interested in what they were saying. He realized that some things in my life were different from what he and other friends were doing, and he wanted to find out why. He started coming to church, Mutual, and seminary, and he saw that all my Church friends were like me, with the same principles. Soon he decided to be baptized.
At his baptism, the bishop asked him to bear his testimony. He stood and said: “I am here today thanks to a friend and how different he was from other people. I hope that everyone will see the differences in all of you too.”

Benjamin pulled his quilt up to his chin as his mom kissed him good night. R-r-r-r-r-i-i-i-p!
“Oh my!” Mom exclaimed, examining the long, jagged tear. The old quilt had been patched and mended, and mended and patched over years of daily use by three different children. “Time for a new quilt,” she announced.
“You know what I need, Mom?” Benjamin grinned. “A quilt with houses and streets on it.”
Mom kissed him again. “I’ll give it some thought,” she said, turning out the light.
The next day, Mom got her fabric box from a shelf in the basement. There were fabric pieces of all kinds and colors. She pulled out a piece of green material and a piece of gray. Then she looked carefully through the smaller pieces, choosing white, blue, tan, red, brown, and some small printed scraps.
Benjamin watched her cut the green fabric into large squares. Then she asked, “Will this gray be OK for streets?” Ben nodded. So she cut the gray into long, narrow strips. Her scissors snip-snipped for an awfully long time as she cut out the other colors too. But finally there were shapes cut for all sorts of buildings with roofs and chimneys and doors and windows. There were even some trees and bushes here and there.
“Will it be done tonight?” Benjamin asked.
“Oh no—not tonight,” Mom chuckled. “It takes a lot of work to make a quilt.”
The next afternoon Mom appliquéd all the houses and buildings onto the green squares. The sewing machine hummed and buzzed. Benjamin watched for a long time. Then Mom stopped to fix dinner.
On the third day, when Benjamin came in from play, the quilt top had been sewn together. Mom spread it out on the floor so that he could look at it.
“That looks like our house!” his sisters agreed, pointing to a white house with brown trim.
The colored squares with the buildings were separated by gray strips. It looked like a tiny town. Everyone admired it.
“Can I use my quilt tonight?” Benjamin asked.
“Not yet. You see, this is just the top. I have to put a piece of fabric on the bottom and fluffy batting in between. Then I have to sew all the layers together.”
Saturday was a busy day, and there was no time for working on the new quilt. But Dad did buy the rest of the materials for it, and he borrowed the quilting frames from Grandma.
Sunday wasn’t a quilting day, either. It sure is hard to wait for a quilt, Benjamin thought.
On Monday Mom put all three layers of the quilt on the frames and started stitching the layers together. Benjamin’s sisters helped a little. When his best friend’s mom heard about the quilt, she came to help too. Benjamin lay on the floor under the quilt and watched the brown stitches slowly outline each building and landscape. The next day Grandma and Aunt Tess came to help finish the outlining.
“Is it done now?” Benjamin asked.
“Not yet.” Mom pulled him close. “See how the outside edge is open. I have to bind the edges so that the batting will stay in and the edges will look nice.”
“Can you do that tonight?”
“I’ll try, but I have to go to a meeting tonight.”
After dinner, Benjamin watched Mom sew strips of green fabric together for the binding. Then she pressed it in half. But that was all that she got done before her Church meeting. As she kissed Benjamin good night, she said, “Tomorrow night you can sleep with your new quilt, I promise.”
Sure enough, when Benjamin went to bed the next night, the quilt was spread out on it. Mom asked, “Was it worth waiting for?”
Benjamin climbed under the quilt and just grinned.

As a young man, serving at the direction of my bishop, I called upon a rich man and invited him to contribute a thousand dollars to a building fund. He declined. But he did say he wanted to help, and if we would have a ward dinner and charge $5 per plate, he would take two tickets. About ten days later this man died unexpectedly of a heart attack, and I have wondered ever since about the fate of his eternal soul.

After I returned from my mission, I stayed with my family for three weeks before I had to leave to enter Brigham Young University. Before school started, my father visited me, meeting my friends and seeing Salt Lake City. When I took him to the airport, he embraced me and told me, “Out of all 46 years of my life, never ever have I felt more love or the Spirit of God in my home than when you were home the last few weeks. I know that we owe it to the service that you gave in Spain for two years.”

The storehouse began in early 1932, when then-stake president (later 11th President of the Church) Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) and his counselors met with bishops in the Pioneer Stake. “It was decided after a good discussion that they better do something and do it quickly,” Elder Rudd said. “It was decided that they would build a storehouse and learn how to fill it.”
Stake leaders obtained the free use of a building on Pierpont Avenue and volunteers got the facility ready. Members of the Pioneer Stake fasted on the day of the official opening and brought their contributions to the storehouse.
“It was an interesting thing that by the time it was finished, there was enough food and other items contributed to fill the storehouse,” wrote Elder Rudd in a report about the storehouse. “Also, there was a spirit throughout the stake like there had never been before—just plain brotherly love.”

I frequently found myself returning home from a busy day’s work, still under great pressures to complete an assignment before the following morning, only to find I had been committed to an act of compassionate service that night. As we would drive to our place of service, I would be mumbling under my breath, “Why me tonight? How will I ever get that job done before morning?” Then we would arrive at the place of service, and I would see the light in her eyes as she would perform her acts of mercy. I would see children dance with joy and parents weep with gratitude for her concern. On the way home I was mumbling a different tune. I was thanking the Lord for the privilege of being there that particular night.

When rivals play football, emotions run high. Players gear up to perform beyond normal expectations. Whole communities don school colors as neighbors debate with neighbors about the greatest game ever played. Who will win bragging rights for the coming year?
That’s the type of intensity that builds in Arizona each time the Safford Bulldogs and the Thatcher Eagles meet in a rivalry that spans 80 years. So imagine what the Safford quarterback, Brandon McEuen, and the Thatcher quarterback, Teren Bingham, might discuss face-to-face the day before the big game.
How about baptism?
That’s right. On Thursday they reviewed plans for Brandon’s baptismal service. On Friday they faced each other as starters on opposing teams. Then on Saturday, Teren Bingham of the Eagles baptized Brandon McEuen of the Bulldogs.
Let’s rewind and watch again so you can see what happened.
The story actually begins with basketball. Clear back in grade school, Teren and Brandon played recreational ball and became friends. “Brandon was always a better athlete than everyone else,” Teren says. “I was just hoping to get into the game.” As they continued to play various sports, they remained friends, even when they were rivals. And they both became stellar athletes.
Fast-forward to more recent times, about two years ago. David Palmer, having spent several years teaching at the Safford High seminary, had recently become principal of the Thatcher High seminary. Brother Palmer had been playing rec league basketball, where he became acquainted with Brandon. Brandon learned that Brother Palmer’s son, Matthew, age 8 at the time, was about to have surgery to remove a lump in his jaw. Doctors feared it might be cancer.
“Brandon asked if he could visit my son after the surgery,” Brother Palmer explains. “When he visited, he gave him a note and said if Matt would let him know when he came to a game, he’d make a three-point basket and then point to him in the stands.” Sure enough, when the next Thatcher versus Safford basketball game rolled around, there was Matt in the stands with his father. On the first play, Brandon was open for three, sank the shot, and then turned and pointed to his young friend.
Brandon scored 30 points that night, with several baskets from beyond the arc. Each time he scored a three, he pointed at Matthew. That cemented Brandon as a hero to Matt.
That night in family prayer, Matt started asking Heavenly Father to guide Brandon to join the Church. The Palmer family had already been praying to find someone who would want to learn the gospel, and Matt was sure Brandon was an answer to that prayer.
And the Palmers weren’t the only ones praying. So was Teren. “In priests quorum we quote section 4 of the Doctrine and Covenants, which says we should serve God with all our heart, might, mind, and strength,” Teren says. “I felt there must be something right in front of me that I was missing.” He asked Heavenly Father to help him figure it out. “That’s when Brandon started taking an interest in the Church, and I said to myself, ‘I want to help with that.’”
Brandon already knew a little about the Church. “I had been to meetings with Teren and with his cousin before,” Brandon says, “but I wasn’t as consistent as I should have been. Then the Palmers invited me to their family home evenings.” One of the first lessons was about Joseph Smith’s efforts to find the true Church. “I liked how Joseph was looking for the right Church, wanting to gain peace and faith like I wanted to,” Brandon recalls. The Spirit bore witness that Joseph’s story was true, and Brandon accepted the commitment to study and pray. That was a turning point. The next day he sent a text message to Brother Palmer: “I asked God, and He told me this is true.”
The more he studied and prayed, the more he found answers. He started coming to seminary, going to church, and meeting with the missionaries. “The discussions were good,” he says. “The missionaries explained things. They made it easier to understand, and they taught me the commandments—the Word of Wisdom, tithing, all of the things that Heavenly Father wants us to do.”
But what impressed him the most was how he felt about showing his love for the Savior through service. “The gospel has brought me closer to Christ,” Brandon says. “I’ve learned a lot about how important it is to serve others, because when you do, you’re serving Him.”
Had the time come for baptism?
“Brother Palmer asked me if I would be baptized,” Brandon recalls. “I had already told him yes. Then the missionaries asked, too. I remember that was on August 4. They said, ‘How about September 4?’ I said, ‘That’s the day after the big game. I don’t know if that will work,’” and he called for time out to think it over. It didn’t take long. He thought about what he had learned and the answers he had already received.
“I knew I had to decide,” Brandon said, “And once I made the decision, I knew it was right. I knew I would fulfill my promises to the Lord with all my heart.”
The same way—with heart—that both he and Teren played in the rivalry game.
More than 3,500 fans filled the stands that Friday night. On the second play of the game, Brandon raced for 49 yards. Moments later, he rifled a 21-yard pass to a fellow seminary student for a touchdown. By the end of the game, Brandon was 15 of 18 in passing for 260 yards and rushed for 203 yards. He scored five touchdowns.
Teren kept rallying the Eagles, even though an intense defense crashed in on him time after time. Despite a fractured bone in his foot, he broke free for a couple of nice runs and threw solid passes. Like the rest of the Eagles, he kept playing hard right to the end of the game.
Final score: 44-21, Bulldogs. And when the last whistle blew, who was there to congratulate Brandon? Teren. Likewise, who was there to console Teren? Brandon. They met on the field for a photo as others were gathering equipment and heading for the buses.
“The friendship was there first,” Teren says. “We’ve always had that.” It brought to mind something else he had said a couple of days before: “Ten years from now, when I’m 27, I want to have been married in the temple to a wonderful wife and have some kids. I want to have a successful job so I can provide for my family. And I want to still be friends with Brandon. I hope people see that it’s a fun thing to have a rivalry, but it’s not the most important thing.”
The next day, both young men wore white. The congregation sang “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, no. 27), chosen by Brandon because Joseph Smith’s experience was key in helping him gain a testimony. Teren, limping on his broken foot, and Brandon, with a broad smile on his face, entered the baptismal font together.
In the talks at the baptismal service, football analogies were often repeated. The armor of God was compared to a football uniform. Brandon was welcomed to the “priesthood team”—like joining a football team, only better. The analogies were valid and memorable. One statement in particular, however, stayed on the minds of many people: “The Church of Jesus Christ doesn’t have boundaries or borders or rivalries. The Church of Jesus Christ is for everybody.”
On Sunday, Brandon was confirmed a member of the Church and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. He was interviewed by his bishop, and they talked about when he would receive the priesthood. Then Brandon was introduced during priesthood meeting and met the other young men who would now become part of his life. After the confirmation, Teren went to his own ward and joined in a priesthood lesson, even though he kept his leg propped up on a chair. The rivalry game had come and gone, but the priesthood teamwork was continuing. When that happens, everyone wins.

It was a bitter cold Sunday morning in Larsmo, Finland, as young Anders Johansson left his house to walk to church. He did not mind the cold weather because he was dressed warmly, and he enjoyed the three-mile walk to the small Baptist meeting place. Anders always felt good on the Sabbath because he liked to learn about God.
Suddenly a rock stung Anders’ leg; then another caught him on the back. He did not stop to ask questions, but immediately took off running across the field. The good feeling he had experienced only moments ago was gone.
Why do they throw rocks at me just because I belong to a different church, Anders wondered. I belong in this village just as much as they do—even if I do worship differently!
At this time Finland was under Russian rule and most people belonged to the state-controlled Lutheran Church. Like Anders, most of those who joined other churches often found themselves in trouble. The rocks really had not hurt him much, but how Anders wished that his neighbors in Larsmo would be tolerant of other religions.
While Anders was just a small boy, a young man living in Sweden by the name of Gustaf Wallgren became a member of the Church. Shortly afterward he was sent to Finland to work for the Russian government. Before leaving Sweden, however, he was ordained an elder in order that he might preach the gospel to the Finnish people and baptize them. Gustaf was undoubtedly the very first Mormon in Finland.
Late in the year 1875 missionaries were sent from Sweden to Finland. The Finnish government openly opposed activity in any church except the state-controlled church, and a law was passed forbidding people to stand and preach the doctrines of any other religion. In order to comply with the law, therefore, all of the missionaries proselyting in Finland had to sit down while preaching the gospel. Letters from these first missionaries report that this unusual preaching position went “well after we got used to it.”
Only a very few people in Finland dared to listen to anyone who talked of a new religion. Those who did were often hunted down, tried, and subjected to the most severe punishment possible under the law. One man who became a member of the Church was sentenced to 28 days’ imprisonment and allowed only small amounts of bread to eat and water to drink during the whole time of his solitary confinement.
In the summer of 1880 some Mormon missionaries from Sweden went to Larsmo, an island about fifteen miles long off the west coast of Finland. Because of government difficulties, they did not stay long. Before they left, however, Anders and his wife heard the gospel and were baptized. For a while they were the only members of the Church on that island.
Anders soon wanted to share the gospel with others, so he invited friends and relatives into his home to hear about the wonderful new religion. His father-in-law, the mailman, and some neighbors believed and asked to be baptized.
“I’m not sure if I can baptize you,” Anders replied. “I’ll have to go to the mission president in Sweden to see if I have the authority to do so.”
Since such a trip by boat was expensive, those he had been teaching helped contribute the money that he needed to go to Sweden, where he was ordained an elder.
At Larsmo, in July 1946, Finland was rededicated to the preaching of the gospel, and in 1947 this country opened her doors to those religions that wished to establish missions.
Not long afterward, the Finland Mission was organized. Now in 1972 there are 23 branches of the Church there.
Because of Anders’ courage in worshiping God in the manner he believed to be right, many of his children and grandchildren, as well as friends and neighbors, are now members of the Church. The first branch president in the Finland Mission was Anselm Stromberg, grandson of Anders Johansson Stromberg, the latter name being added when it became necessary for everyone in Finland to choose a last name.

My mother was a recent convert to the Church when she was called to be the Relief Society president in our small branch in San Salvador. She told the branch president that she was inexperienced, unprepared, and inadequate. She was in her 30s, had very little formal education, and her whole life had been devoted to the care of her husband and seven children. But the branch president called her anyway.
I watched my mother rise to the occasion. While serving, she learned leadership skills and developed new gifts such as teaching, public speaking, and planning and organizing meetings, activities, and service projects. She influenced the women in the branch. She served them and taught them to serve one another. The sisters loved and respected her. She helped other women to discover, use, and develop gifts and talents; she helped them become builders of the kingdom and of strong, spiritual families. She stayed faithful to the temple covenants she made. When she passed away, she was at peace with her Maker.
A sister who served with her as a counselor in the Relief Society wrote me a letter years later: “Your mother was the person who taught me the way to become what I am now. From her, I learned charity, kindness, honesty, and responsibility in our callings. She was my mentor and my example. I am now 80 years old, but I have stayed faithful to the Savior and His gospel. I have served a mission, and the Lord has blessed me greatly.”3

During a trip to the Mediterranean, I diligently attended Church meetings wherever I could. In Seville, Spain, I enlisted the aid of a hotel receptionist, the local telephone directory, and a city map to help me find the local Latter-day Saint meetinghouse. I wrote down the address and the name of the Church in Spanish. Saturday evening I prayed to know what time the meetings started, and I felt a strong impression that I needed to be there by 10:00 a.m.
Just before I left for church at 9:30 on Sunday morning, I prayed again that I would be able to find the meetinghouse. Following my map, I began to navigate a maze of narrow streets. It was a delightful morning. I passed cafés and a bird market full of squawking birds.
I made it to the designated address only to find nothing that remotely resembled a church. I walked up and down the street looking in vain. I was confused and anxious, and it was almost 10:00 a.m.
Finally, I prayed to my Father in Heaven: “Thou hast commanded me to go to church, and here I am, but there’s no church here.”
Just then a well-dressed man in a suit came around the corner. He looked like a member of the Church, and I felt impressed to stop him. In a somewhat garbled manner, I told him I was looking for a church. He said something I didn’t understand, and I looked perplexed. So he opened his briefcase, and I saw two leather-bound books that looked like scriptures. I handed him my slip of paper on which I had written “La Iglesia de Jesucristo” (The Church of Jesus Christ). He smiled and pointed back along the way I had come, and together we walked to church. The building was located at a different address just a few minutes away and was easy to miss if you didn’t know it was there. It was set back in a small square, behind large gates.
At the meetinghouse I soon found out that the man who had helped me was none other than the bishop of the ward and that the meetings began at 10:30 a.m. I had arrived with time to spare.
During the ward’s fast and testimony meeting, I felt impressed to bear my testimony. With a missionary translating my words from English into Spanish, I bore my testimony and described how the Lord had provided a way for me to get to church. The bishop then bore his testimony and explained that he had to park farther away that morning, so he was later than normal. When he saw me, he thought I looked like a member of the Church, so he stopped to help me. He then spoke of members who are lost spiritually and said we have to help them find the Church.
Over the years my memories of the sights of Seville have faded, but my memory of finding the church there hasn’t. That memory is a testimony to me of the great love our Father in Heaven has for us and that His hand is visible in my life if I just look for all the things that “work together for [my] good” (Romans 8:28).