Gospel Story Finder

I want to share with you an experience I had this summer. I spent three days in a wilderness camp with 150 youth. We did a lot of hiking and had some hard physical challenges like when we rappelled down an eighty-foot cliff. On the last day we were given instructions to go into the woods alone. Before leaving the group, each youth was given a letter from home which had been written by his or her mother or father for this occasion.
When I went out alone, I took my scriptures with me. I read about my Father in Heaven’s love for all of us and for me. It was then that I realized that these scriptures are like letters from home.
After a time we gathered together. Everyone had opened and read his or her letter. One young woman stood expressing the feelings of her heart. She held her letter close. In her words, “I nearly bawled my face off when I sat there alone and realized how much my mom and dad love me.” I nearly bawled my face off when I read again about how very much our Father in Heaven loves us.
Can you imagine being away from home and receiving a letter from your parents and not bothering to open it or read it? This is what happens when we don’t read these precious records. The holy scriptures are like letters from home telling us how we can draw near to our Father in Heaven. He tells us to come as we are. No one will be denied. He loves everyone. (See 3 Ne. 9:14, 17–18.)

It all started with a roommate in college who began to get “holy” (I thought). She only played Bach on Sunday. Well, I enjoyed Bach, but please, let’s have a little more contemporary music too! Let’s not be translated yet (or so I thought). Soon the spirit of that day came to me through music, just listening music, beautiful symphonies, a fitting background for thinking and meditation. Gradually I weaned myself from the music of the world on Sunday, and the light of the gospel shone in me in this single precept.

In the gifted program at school, Heather knows a lot about other things too. After studying about solar energy, she made a solar car that was displayed at two area science fairs. First she made a pinewood derby car, then attached a solar cell and motor on top, and then used a rubber band between the solar motor and rear wheels to drive the car. (She made a “hot-dog” racecourse to go with it, but that wasn’t entered in the fairs.) She knows a lot about art, too, and has had her artwork displayed at the Young Artists Fair. She’s also a pretty good amateur photographer.

This summer, my wife, Kalleen, and I were changing planes in Amsterdam where, many years earlier, I was a new missionary. After I had spent months struggling to learn Dutch, our KLM flight was landing, and the captain made an incoherent announcement over the PA system. After a moment of silence, my companion mumbled, “I think that was Dutch.” We glanced up, reading each other’s thoughts: All was lost.
But all was not lost. As I marveled over the leaps of faith we had then taken as we walked through this airport on our way to the miracles that would rain down upon us as missionaries, I was abruptly brought back to the present by a living, breathing missionary who was boarding a plane home. He introduced himself and asked, “President Lund, what do I do now? What do I do to remain strong?”
Well, this is the same question that is on the minds of our youth when they leave FSY conferences, youth camps, and temple trips and anytime they feel the powers of heaven: “How can loving God turn into lasting discipleship?”
I felt an upwelling of love for this clear-eyed missionary serving the last hours of his mission, and in that momentary stillness of the Spirit, I heard my voice crack as I said simply, “You don’t have to wear the badge to bear His name.”
I wanted to put my hands on his shoulders and say, “Here’s what you do. You go home, and you just be this. You are so good you almost glow in the dark. Your mission discipline and sacrifices have made you a magnificent son of God. Keep doing at home what has worked so powerfully for you here. You have learned to pray and to whom you pray and the language of prayer. You have studied His words and come to love the Savior by trying to be like Him. You have loved Heavenly Father like He loved His Father, served others like He served others, and lived the commandments like He lived them—and when you didn’t, you have repented. Your discipleship isn’t just a slogan on a T-shirt—it has become a part of your life purposefully lived for others. So you go home, and you do that. Be that. Carry this spiritual momentum into the rest of your life.”

Consider my eldest son who, in politically correct language, is "vertically challenged." More directly stated, for most of his life my son has been the smallest one in his class and has been ever since he started attending school. Yet he fancies himself an NBA point guard, a la John Stockton. He asked me the other day if I thought he could make it in the NBA (that is, in professional basketball). My wife and I had worried about what our answer might be if it ever came to a question like this. Well, I decided to be honest. I told him how hard it was to make it into the NBA. I told him how few of the Jr. Jazz players actually got on a high school team, and how few of the high school players actually made it to a college team, and how few of the college players actually made it to the NBA and how few of the NBA players made it to the level of a John Stockton. What I most wanted for him, I said, was that he would grow up to be a good man, have a good family, and have a good enough job that he would be able to contribute to the church and help build the kingdom.

He seemed pensive, and I thought maybe I had made my point. I worried that I might have discouraged him. A few days later I overheard our son talking to his brother. They had just watched Steve Young playing football and he had decided to try professional football instead of professional basketball. So we tend to have inflated expectations and we can also over-react to negative comparisons with others. As a matter of fact, my son often vacillated between feeling elated as he ran the Jr. Jazz team, and being in the dumps because he wasn't good enough compared with his expectations. Either way, our problem is that we too often use external comparisons to define ourselves.

President Worthen, this is always going to be hard for me to share without getting emotional. As I have mentioned, when I first came to BYU, I was a little bit lost as a freshman. When I decided that I was going to pack it in and go home, the bishop of my home ward said, “You should go talk to my brother before you decide to pack it in.” My bishop at home was Bishop Clyde Worthen, who is President Worthen’s brother.

So I went into President Worthen’s office, ready to go home. President Worthen knew me by name, he spent time with me, and he let me know that he thought if I would just stick with it that I would grow to love BYU like he did. He’s been my mentor and my friend ever since that day.

I’m so grateful for all of these amazing leaders who have had such a profound impact on me.

The Book of Mormon brought me a great desire to be accepted of the Lord. One night, my newborn daughter awakened me. I fed her, and she soon fell asleep, but I was left awake in the stillness of the night. I thought of the changes in my life and the many things that still needed to be changed. My thoughts were drawn to God, and I prayed, remembering the words of the Lamanite king who cried, “O God, … wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee.” (Alma 22:18.)
One by one, the Lord showed me my weaknesses. In the early hours of the morning, I received a sweet assurance, which I recorded in my journal and have pondered many times: “I am your Father. Your Father!”

Sarah hopped and skipped. She was ready to hike around Silver Lake with her family. Her brother, Josh, ran ahead.
Soon the sun began to feel hot on Sarah’s arms. Her legs began to feel tired.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “We’re almost back to our car.”
Then Sarah saw a big orange rope blocking the path. “The bridge is broken,” Dad said. “We’ll have to walk back around the lake.”
“But I’m so tired!” Sarah said. Josh sat down in the dirt and frowned.
“Do you remember the story of the pioneers?” Mom asked.
Sarah nodded. She liked the pioneers.
“They had to walk a very long way,” Mom said. “Sometimes it was really hot, and sometimes it was really cold. But they kept walking. When they got to their new home, they built houses and temples.”
Sarah was glad the pioneers kept walking. She would keep walking too. She held her hand out to Josh. “Come on,” she said. “We have some more walking to do.”

In the first few years after my wife and I joined the Church, my prayers would not be classified as “feasting in prayer.” They were more like nibbling or, at best, snacking. They were brief and often without depth. Seldom did I feel like I was communing with our Father in Heaven or that he was hearing me. Have you ever felt that way? Influenced by the scriptures and numerous talks from the pulpit, I realized that I needed to spend more time in prayer. So I finally decided that I would pray for a half-hour each morning. The first day I arose early and locked myself in a spare bedroom in our apartment, knelt by the chair, and placed my watch next to me on that chair. I then began to pray. When I had finished repeating to the Lord the same things I had said to him rather routinely every day for the previous year or two and could think of no more to say, I opened my eyes and looked at my watch. Three minutes had elapsed. I remember thinking, “Oh great, what am I going to talk about for another 27 minutes?”
It was then that I admitted to myself that I wasn’t allowing the Lord into my heart. Part of the problem was that I wasn’t even allowing myself into my heart. You sisters are probably saying, “Typical male!” I simply wasn’t thinking consciously about my concerns, about the people I loved, or about my own repentance. I wasn’t even taking the time to prepare for my time with the Lord. Think about that. If you had an appointment to talk with President Hinckley, wouldn’t you plan ahead and think about what you would like to talk with him about? Yet I wasn’t doing that with the Lord.
That morning, realizing my problem, I began constructing a list of things that were really important to me and that I would like to talk with the Lord about. Each morning I reviewed that list before beginning my prayer, and the list continued to grow as I thought of new things to add. In the next few days and weeks, my prayer became much more meaningful, and I began to feel the promptings and reassurances of the Lord during my prayer. I began to look forward eagerly to my private interview with the Lord. Furthermore, it soon became common for me to look up at my watch and discover that the 30 minutes had already gone by, and I had only discussed the first few items on my list.

As each person speaks, we come around the circle to Trevor, a young man with special challenges. He sits quietly, reluctant to participate in the discussion about testimonies. Spontaneously, one by one, his friends in the circle start telling good things about Trevor: how he is a good example, how he brings friends to church, how it is nice to know him and have him as a friend. It is a great moment. The kindness toward their friend is authentic. These teens have learned something special about treating someone with Christlike kindness. It is part of their testimonies. For them, having a testimony isn’t just something you talk about, it really is something you do. It is the way you live. It is the decisions you make. And these teens have found what it really means to have a testimony of Christ.

Anastasia, a young mother in Ukraine, was in the hospital having just given birth to a baby boy as the bombings began in Kyiv this past February. A nurse opened the hospital room door and said with an urgent voice, “Take your baby, wrap him in a blanket, and go into the hall—now!”

Later, Anastasia commented:
“I never imagined my first days of motherhood would be so difficult, … but … I am focusing on … the blessings and miracles I have seen. …
“Right now, … it might seem impossible to ever forgive those who have caused so much destruction and harm … , but as a disciple of Christ, I have faith that I will be able to [forgive]. …
“I don’t know all that will happen in the future … but I know that keeping our covenants will allow the Spirit to be with us continually, … allowing us to feel joy and hope, … even during difficult times.”

On a cool Sunday evening in the summer of 1946, Ezra Taft Benson and two traveling companions drove along the eerily quiet streets of Ze?w?gi, Poland. Rough roads and heavy rains had vexed the travelers all day, but the foul weather had finally cleared up as the men neared their destination.
Ze?w?gi had once been part of Germany and had been known as Selbongen. National boundaries had shifted after the war, however, and much of central and eastern Europe had come under the influence of the Soviet Union. In 1929, the thriving Selbongen Branch had built the first Latter-day Saint meetinghouse in Germany. But after six years of war, the Saints in the village were barely surviving.1
As the jeep neared the old meetinghouse in Ze?w?gi, most of the people in the streets scattered and hid. Elder Benson and his companions stopped the vehicle in front of the building and climbed out. They introduced themselves to a woman nearby and asked if they had found the Latter-day Saint chapel. The woman’s eyes filled with tears of relief. “The brethren are here!” she cried in German.
Immediately people came out from behind closed doors, crying and laughing with joy. The Ze?w?gi Saints had been out of contact with general Church leaders for three years, and that morning many of them had been fasting and praying for a visit from a missionary or Church leader. Within a few hours, about a hundred Saints gathered to hear the apostle speak.
As Elder Benson spoke to the Saints, two armed Polish soldiers entered the chapel. The congregation stiffened with fear, but the apostle motioned for the soldiers to take a seat near the front of the room. In his talk, he emphasized the importance of liberty and freedom. The soldiers listened attentively, remained in their seats for the closing song, and departed without incident. Afterward, Elder Benson met with the branch president and left food and money for the Saints, assuring them more aid was on the way.3

Take, for instance, Orson Hyde, whose name has been much in Church news of late because of President Kimball’s dedication of the memorial park on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Orson Hyde was a clerk in the village of Kirtland when he met Joseph Smith, the youthful prophet. It was to this unknown, unpromising young seller of buttons and thread and calico that Joseph, speaking in the name of the Lord, said that he, Orson Hyde, was ordained “to proclaim the everlasting gospel, by the Spirit of the living God, from people to people, and from land to land, in the congregations of the wicked, in their synagogues, reasoning with and expounding all scriptures unto them” (D&C 68:1).

This young man, this clerk in a village store, under the inspiration of that prophetic call, walked two thousand miles on foot through Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Maine, and New York, “reasoning with and expounding all scriptures unto” all he met.

We were at the scene of his home in Nauvoo the other day, the comfortable home he left to travel to England and Germany and to visit Constantinople, Cairo, and Alexandria en route to Jerusalem where on October 24, 1841, he stood on the Mount of Olives and dedicated by the authority of the holy priesthood the land of Palestine for the return of the Jews. That was a quarter of a century before Herzl, the powerful exponent of Zionism, undertook the work of gathering the Jews to their homeland.

When each of my children turned eight, I took them on a backpacking trip. I’ll have to say they were great adventures that were full of triumphs and tragedies. Some of the triumphs include fording a stream with a backpack, climbing higher on the mountain than their brother, starting a fire, and just making it home alive. Some of the tragedies include skinned knees, muddy feet, overloaded backpacks, and unexpected snowstorms. As part of this tradition we documented the adventure with a picture wearing our backpacks in the front of our home. When my son James turned eight, he was very excited for the adventure. During the photo op in the front of our home he reached out and held my hand. To be honest, it melted my heart a bit. I thought that was sweet of him to do during the picture. However, during the entire hike that day and throughout the trip he frequently would hold my hand. Later that summer, I took James with his older brothers backpacking. To my surprise he continued to frequently hold my hand while hiking. At first his brothers didn’t say anything. Then, they teased him about holding my hand, but James ignored them. Finally, one of his brothers asked him why he held my hand during the hike. I will always remember his profound eight-year-old response. Without hesitation and unapologetically James said, “Because it makes me go faster.” He was right. It did make him go faster. As we hiked, I could support him, guide him, pull him along a bit and even steady him if he was a little off balance.

Growing up in the Church, I’d always just assumed that God existed and loved me. It wasn’t until high school that I felt the need to discover for myself if everything I’d been taught was true.
I went to a Church-sponsored youth camp one summer where faithful peers spoke of receiving answers to their prayers by feeling the Holy Ghost. I thought the Holy Ghost had never communicated with me because I’d never felt “my heart burn within my chest” as many of the other youth had described. At the camp, one of the counselors said that “if you ask God if He loves you, then He will answer.” Excited at the prospect of definite revelation, I knelt that night and asked God if He loves me. I felt nothing. I was angry. I begged for an answer. I’d never felt so very alone. I knew that God loves me—why wouldn’t He let me feel it?
I spent the next year coming to terms with this experience. Over time, I realized that the Holy Ghost had spoken to me, just not in the way I’d expected. It was not through intense feelings but through a calm and pure knowledge of truth in my heart and mind. By the time I went back to camp the following summer, I’d realized I didn’t need an intense confirming feeling to know that God loves me, because the Spirit spoke to me a different way.
And then the strangest thing happened: I got that feeling. One night while writing in my journal, I heard a voice in my head say, “I love you.” It was a soft whisper, and I knew it was of divine origin. I knelt and tearfully thanked God and felt surrounded by His love. It often seems too bold to say, but I felt like I was wrapped in the arms of God that night.
Though I felt a lot of emotions during this experience, I also learned that the Holy Ghost speaks to people in different ways. To this day, the Spirit gives me a pure knowledge of the truth. I know that God lives and loves us more than we can comprehend. He may not give us everything we want, but when we’re ready, worthy, and faithful, He will answer our earnest and fervent prayers in the way and time He knows is best.

I am confident you have heard this story of President Spencer W. Kimball, but I take the liberty of repeating it. He had undergone surgery in the hospital. A young male nurse had placed him on a gurney and was transporting him. When getting on the elevator, the nurse bumped the gurney and let out an oath using the name of the Lord.

President Kimball, only half-conscious, said, “Please! Please! That is my Lord whose name you revile.”

There was a deathly silence; then the young man whispered with a subdued voice, “I am sorry.” (See The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, ed. Edward L. Kimball [1982], 198.)

Callings Extended by Inspiration

Another aspect of callings that I would like to discuss is inspiration and revelation. As we serve in church callings, we come to better understand the inspiration and revelation that comes through the Spirit.

Callings are extended by inspiration. The Lord knows what each of us needs to learn. And He inspires church leaders to call us to positions that will help us to develop the attributes we need to ultimately return to Him.

Callings do not come from men; they come from God. This principle is clearly stated in the fifth Article of Faith. It says, “We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.” The first part of this article of faith says, “A man must be called of God, by prophecy.” Prophecy means inspiration or revelation, and The Guide to the Scriptures clarifies that prophecy comes “through revelation from the Holy Ghost.” So, we are called through inspiration from the Holy Ghost.

The church handbook also directs that callings are to be extended based on inspiration. Handbook 2 section 19.1.1 states: “A person must be called of God to serve in the Church (see Articles of Faith 1:5). Leaders seek the guidance of the Spirit in determining whom to call.”

I testify that callings in the church are extended through inspiration. I have experienced this inspiration myself and I have seen this inspiration working in church leaders with whom I have served.

One such instance occurred while my family was living in New Zealand. We were living in the Lincoln Ward of the Henderson Stake, which is in west Auckland. A little over a year after we moved into the ward, our bishop extended a call to my wife to be the Young Women’s President. At the time, we were a busy family. I was a full-time graduate student, working a part-time job, and had a busy calling in the ward. My wife was also working part-time. And we had two young children. Young Women’s President carries a lot of responsibility and requires time commitments. When the call came, my wife felt a bit overwhelmed and wondered how she would be able to magnify this calling. Yet, she trusted in the inspiration that the bishop had received and accepted the calling.

Well, there is no way she could have seen at the beginning all of the blessings that resulted from her service. She immediately formed a special bond of love with the young women. She was able to open their hearts and teach them about the gospel. As the young women learned from her, their testimonies grew stronger and deeper. After moving to Hawaii and returning to New Zealand to visit, we have been thrilled to see these young women serving diligently in church callings, going on missions, and furthering their education. That group of young women has become like a lighthouse of faith shining through the darkness. And they hold a special place in my wife’s heart.

And there were other blessings that came from my wife’s service. I’ll just mention one other. Becky and the two sisters whom she called as counselors became great friends. They did not know each other very well before they were called (and I believe that my wife received inspiration to call these two sisters). The three of them bonded and became a strong, unified presidency. And they are still two of the people that my wife looks forward to seeing the most every time we visit New Zealand.

Summer vacation had always been a wonderful time for spiritual growth. It seemed I could feel the Spirit more when I had more time and didn’t feel the pressures of school.
But this summer was different. A strange emptiness filled me, and I felt confused. I had always heard that Heavenly Father communicates with his children through the scriptures. So I sat on my bed with the Book of Mormon in my hands and began to pray. “Father in Heaven, I thought I was doing everything right. I make good choices so the Holy Ghost will find me worthy of constant companionship, yet this emptiness fills me. Father, let me know what I have done wrong.”
Then I opened my scriptures to Alma 37. The answer to my prayers began in verse 39. Alma was speaking of the Liahona: “And behold, it was prepared to show unto our fathers the course which they should travel in the wilderness. …
“Nevertheless, because those miracles were worked by small means it did show unto them marvelous works. They were slothful, and forgot to exercise their faith and diligence and then those marvelous works ceased, and they did not progress in their journey” (Alma 37:39, 41).
It was as though a voice had spoken to me. Heavenly Father was not angry with me. He knew the desires of my heart were good and pure. But I had become a little slothful in my efforts to maintain my spirituality and to keep my testimony strong and growing. This lack of diligence was slowing my progress “in [my] journey.”
Since my study of the scriptures had not been very focused, I decided to start there. After all, the scriptures are our modern-day Liahona. How grateful I am for a Father in Heaven who cares for us so much that he speaks to us through the scriptures.

I leave you now, friends, in the aftermath of the after glory, with one final offering of glory for you. It involves a saintly sister and Brigham Young University (BYU) student who blessed me with words of gratitude from a place deep within. I repeat—and reflect on—her words often. Here is the story, in brief.

On the glorious Monday following general conference, I had the privilege of visiting Professor David Seely’s class on ancient Israel at BYU–Provo. After an opening prayer to help open our hearts to the heavenly, both above and within, we began class by sharing our thoughts on general conference and the nourishing gift it had been. After sharing some of my personal reflections on experiencing moments divine, our saintly Latter-day Saint sister responded with, “Thank you for reminding me of the beauty of my faith.” To this day, her words still echo within.

To you, dear sister, whose name is unknown to me, and to the entire Latter-day Saint community, let me also say “thank you” to you. Thank you for the beauty of your faith. Thank you for reminding me of the beauty of faith. Thank you for reminding and inspiring me to live and express my own faith more beautifully. Thank you for reminding me of the beautiful potential that faith can produce and blossom into. Your faith is truly a “light unto the nations” and a bright shining star in my heart.

The spirit of Sauniatu seems to affect everyone who goes there. Brother Isamaeli, who works on maintenance at the school, said that he didn’t want to come at first. “But,” he said, “after I had been at Sauniatu for a while, I felt the Spirit of the Lord upon my family. I knew it was a blessing to be here. When my family is sick I administer to them and they get better. Before we came here, my wife and I quarreled many times, and sometimes I lost patience with her. But I’m glad to say that now we have a very happy family.
“It is nice to live in a place that is far away from town and other big villages. It is very quiet, and we are free from drunkards, robbers, and other people who cause trouble.”