Gospel Story Finder

For youth conference one year, we went on a pioneer trek reenactment. I was terrified. It wasn’t that I minded walking for miles and miles a day—I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to hear anything.
I lost my hearing to meningitis when I was three years old. With technology now, I can hear with a cochlear implant. But just before trek, I broke my good implant playing basketball and had to use a backup processor. It had only one battery, which lasted about 6 hours.
I didn’t know what to do—I just wanted to feel peace and comfort. So I asked my dad for a blessing. He blessed me that Heavenly Father would take care of me if I showed faith.
All during trek, I took my implant on and off to preserve battery life. One day we were heading up into a cove, and I felt strongly that I should take off my implant. I was reluctant because my trek pa was sharing a spiritual message and I wanted to hear it. But I remembered my dad’s blessing and put the implant in my pocket.
As we walked a little further, I heard a voice in my head. It was so clear. I looked up and realized that the words in my head were the same words my trek pa was saying. I could hear every word of his testimony!
I know that Heavenly Father loves us and cares about our worries. He wants to bless us; He just asks that we show a little faith in Him.
Brody S., Wyoming, USA

Let me tell you of my struggles to learn the Law of Tithing. Growing up, I never thought much about tithing. I remember paying tithing, but how committed I was I can't remember. In 1958, I had graduated from High School and entered LDS Business College. I had enough money to pay my tuition for the first term and rent an apartment for two months. I needed to get a job or I'd have to drop out of school. I looked and looked for a job. I could not find one. Finally, after two months, I'm desperate. My money is running out. One afternoon, I come home from school and in my upstairs apartment I decide to kneel down and pour out my heart to Heavenly Father. It must have been a long prayer as my needs were great. During the prayer I make a promise, a covenant, "Father please help me, please help me to stay in school. Please help me get an education. Please help me find a job. And Father if you'll help me, I covenant, I promise that I'll pay a full and honest tithing for the rest of my life." It's a very emotional prayer. I'm praying with all my soul. The Lord hears my prayer. He makes a covenant with me. The next day I'm inspired to go to the Utah Genealogical Society and apply for a job. I interview. I get the job that day.
I am so grateful. I shed tears of gratitude. And all my life, I have kept that covenant.

Steven Brantzeg is seven years old, and he can read well. But even when he was four, people thought he could read. You could ask him to find the story of Jonah in his Bible, and he could turn right to the page. You could ask him to find the stories of Joseph and his eleven brothers or Lehi and his journey to the promised land, and he could show you right where they are found in his set of the scriptures. Most of his friends at Primary could do the same thing. How?
As part of Sharing Time in the Valley View Sixth Ward in Salt Lake City, where Steven and his family attend church, children were told many of the stories from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Then their teachers helped them to find the pages where those stories are found in their own scriptures. The children marked those pages in a way that would remind them of the stories. On pages 10 and 11 in Steven’s Bible, for example, you will find pictures of an ark, a cloud raining drops of water, and a birthday cake with six candles. Even before he could read, Steven could tell you about the building of the ark and the rain that came for forty days and nights when Noah was six hundred years old. He could turn right to the page too! When the project in Primary was completed, Steven and his mom and dad, Annette and George Brantzeg, continued to read stories from the scriptures and to mark them in Steven’s copies.

When I was young, I came home from a mission and needed a job. I got married and was working for a hundred and twenty-five dollars a month when I heard there was a job in Scouting in Ogden. An old friend, Howard McDonald, past president of your University here, met me on the street and wanted to know if I wanted that job.

“What is it?” I asked.

He said, “You get paid for being a Boy Scout leader. Lots of fun. You direct the Scout work in a community.”

The only thing I had ever done in Scouting was to help my little brother in a fire-by-friction situation. I showed him how to make fire by friction in our kitchen, and all I succeeded in doing was boring a hole through our kitchen linoleum. So I said that I was not interested; but all the way home that night I thought, “Well, why not? Maybe I could do it. I don’t know what it’s about.” So I applied to the president of the local council in such a manner that he was not impressed—anything but impressed. I was frightened, I was stuttering, I was hesitating, I did not know what to say, I could not give him any reason for wanting the job, I did not know what the job was, but I said, “I want it.”

He looked at me casually, and finally he said, “Well, we are going to receive written applications, so if you want to write an application we’ll read it.”

So I wrote the application, and to my surprise I was invited to come to a meeting where I could be interviewed. There were eight candidates, all of whom had had years of experience in volunteer Scouting. I had had none. At that time, however, I suddenly became very calm, very sure of myself. I did not have the least fear. When my turn came to speak—each of the others had taken at least thirty minutes each, so it took nearly all day to hear them, and I was the last one—the president reminded me that they were all tired. So I said, “I don’t know a thing about this job, but I know that I can learn to do it rapidly,” and then I sat down. To my surprise, I was one of two picked out of that crowd to appear before the board; and with that much of a statement before the executive board, against a man who had had fifteen years of experience, they chose me.

Looking back upon it, I can see the steps by which I was inspired to say the things I said and not say the things I should not have said to get that job. It proved to be good. I had it for twenty-three years before I became a member of the First Council of the Seventy. I am certain as I stand here that the Lord directed me to that job through Howard McDonald and others, and that I was given it, not because of any qualification—not at all—but because somehow I was supposed to have it.

Clare makes friends wherever she goes. She has friends she met in Brownies and in Girl Guides. She has friends she has made while swimming or playing field hockey. And she has friends she met while doing a pantomime show at the local town hall, where her mother helped make costumes for everyone in the cast.

When her mother learned that some of the cast members had questions about the Church, she invited them to visit the Portadown Ward meetinghouse. While they were there, many of them and their mothers noticed pictures of the Savior and learned how deeply Latter-day Saints love the Lord. “Some of them didn’t know that Latter-day Saints are Christians,” Clare’s mother explains. “Now they understand that we are.”

Does Clare have some secret that helps her in making all these friends?

“I just remember that we’re all children of the same God,” she says, “so that means we’re all brothers and sisters.”

And that’s not really a secret.

Lance Reynolds can understand that feeling. Football had become an important part of his life at an early age, beginning with children’s football teams. He played for the team at Granite High School in Salt Lake City and was chosen to be on the team of top players of the region when he was 16 years old. He was selected to the top team in the state and again to the top team of the region.
The year Lance entered Brigham Young University was the first year that first year students were allowed to play on the first (top) team representing a university, and he played with the varsity football team enough to win a school letter. His second year he was on the starting team, and his third year promised to be a great one—he would have been the only player in his position on the team returning. But it was time for Lance to go on his mission, and although he had always planned to go, the final decision was a difficult one to make.
“At the time,” he remembers, “leaving on a mission seemed like the end of all hopes for a football career.” It seemed like a choice between football and a mission. He chose the mission.
Five years and a professional contract later, Lance no longer feels that you have to make a choice. “Why not do both?” he asks. “Young students and athletes don’t have to ‘give up’ things to go on a mission—only postpone them for two years.”
And he should know. Having kept himself in good physical condition during his mission by exercising during personal time (before 6:30 A.M.) and watching his weight, Lance was able on his return to slip back into his uniform and the game with ease. Within two weeks he felt at home on the field. The following season he was on the starting team at BYU. His fourth year he was honored by the Western Athletic Conference, received All-American honorable mention, and was chosen by the Pittsburgh Steelers, a top professional football team. He is now playing with the Philadelphia Eagles football team.
Lance feels he gained in intensity, concentration, and self-control. And all three felt an increased confidence upon returning to their sport.
Although some missionaries do return and do not continue in sports, it is usually due to a change in interests rather than inability. Ed, Mark, and Lance are convinced that any athlete who serves a mission will be able to regain his previous ability upon diligently applying himself.
And even if that were not the case, Lance wouldn’t have missed his mission for anything. “I would trade all of my athletic experiences for the opportunity of going on a mission,” he insists.

What has helped your testimony grow stronger? Recently I had an experience that made my testimony grow and helped me realize that my Heavenly Father really does know me and love me. I was in a scary situation with my younger brother, and we prayed that the Holy Ghost would tell my mom to come and get us. She received a strong impression to come right away. When she showed up a few minutes later, we were so relieved and grateful that Heavenly Father answers prayers.

Like most of you, I can attribute and connect my life’s journey to those who came before me. I can see how their circumstances, sacrifices, and choices impacted me and my life. In order for me to share about my experience here at BYU–Hawaii I would like to give you a little background knowledge about my upbringing and family’s history in Laie.

My maternal Great Grandma Ruby Freeman was raised in Sandy, Utah. She was hanai’d by her aunty, Augusta Winters, wife of President Heber J. Grant. She was hanai’d because her mother passed away at 38 years of age leaving behind nine children. My Great Grandma Ruby Freeman is the mother of my grandpa, Roscoe Sorensen. My Grandpa Sorensen was blessed to serve a mission in Hawaii from 1939-1941. It was during this time he first saw my Grandma, Caroline Hubbell. He saw her while she was dancing hula at the Royal Hawaiian when he and his companion were invited to eat there. He saw her again at church which I am sure left a lasting impression. Upon completion of his mission and returning home to Utah, my grandpa headed back to Hawaii where he was reconnected to my grandma and the two were eventually married. At this time, my grandpa began civilian work at Pearl Harbor during World War II. Not too many years later my grandparents were given the opportunity to buy land and settle in Laie with the early saints. They chose the area directly across from what is now the entrance to TVA and the faculty townhomes. Years later the Church College of Hawaii was established and my grandpa worked as a Groundskeeper until he retired. He also served as one of the first bishops in Laie and was a stake patriarch in his later days. Grandpa Sorensen was a known cowboy in Laie and ran the slaughterhouse which provided meat to the saints in the community. While neither of my grandparents attended what is now known as BYU–Hawaii - I truly believe that their commitment to the church and the college eventually led me to attend school here and return in the capacity in which I now serve. I am grateful for my great grandmother and her sacrifices and teachings which I know led my grandpa to serve a mission in Hawaii which eventually led to him marrying my grandma and their family being raised in the Laie community.

When I was a young man, I was inducted into the United States Army Air Corps. One cold night at Chanute Field, Illinois, I was given all-night guard duty. As I walked around my post, I meditated and pondered the whole miserable, long night through. By morning I had come to some firm conclusions. I was engaged to be married and knew that I could not support my wife on a private’s pay. In a day or two, I filed my application for Officer’s Candidate School. Shortly thereafter, I was summoned before the board of inquiry. My qualifications were few, but I had had two years of college and had finished a mission for the Church in South America.
The questions asked of me at the officers’ board of inquiry took a very surprising turn. Nearly all of them centered upon my beliefs. “Do you smoke?” “Do you drink?” “What do you think of others who smoke and drink?” I had no trouble answering.
“Do you pray?” “Do you believe that an officer should pray?” The officer asking these questions was a hard-bitten career soldier. He did not look like he prayed very often. I pondered. Would I give him offense if I answered how I truly believed? I wanted to be an officer so that I would not have to do all-night guard duty and KP and clean latrines, but mostly so my sweetheart and I could afford to be married.
I decided to be honest. I admitted I did pray and that I felt officers might seek divine guidance as some truly great generals had done. I told them I thought officers should be prepared to lead their men in all appropriate activities, if the occasion requires, including prayer.
More interesting questions came. “In times of war, should not the moral code be relaxed? Does not the stress of battle justify men in doing things that they would not do when at home under normal situations?”
I recognized that here was a chance perhaps to make some points and look broad-minded. I suspected that the men who were asking me this question did not live by the standards that I had been taught. The thought flashed through my mind that perhaps I could say that I had my own beliefs, but I did not wish to impose them on others. But there seemed to flash before my mind the faces of the many people to whom I had taught the law of chastity as a missionary. In the end I simply said, “I do not believe there is a double standard of morality.”
I left the hearing resigned to the fact that these hard-bitten officers would not like the answers I had given and would surely score me very low. A few days later when the scores were posted, to my astonishment I had passed. I was in the first group taken for Officer’s Candidate School! I graduated, became a second lieutenant, married my sweetheart, and we have “lived together happily ever after.”

Unfortunately, you will probably not always be successful in your shielding efforts. But the Lord will help you if you will rely on Him. President Henry B. Eyring relates a very instructive experience regarding the Lord's help. He was in a European city and stepped into a seemingly innocent shop. As soon as he was in the place he knew that he did not belong there, and he turned and walked out. But, for the next couple of days the offensive images on the walls remained in his mind, despite his fervent prayers. Then, finally the Spirit instructed him, that the bubble of his protection had been lifted and that he needed to "pray to be led not into temptation." "To be led not into temptation" should be a regular element of our daily prayers.

I’m from France, but my sister and I spent a year in the eastern United States as exchange students. During that time, we met lots of people, but the one who left the biggest impression on me was a girl named Destiny. She became one of my best friends. We did all kinds of things together, during school and after school, and with my sister. Destiny was always happy. That was the thing I liked most about her.

Then one day I saw her in a troubled mood I had never seen her in before. I asked her what was wrong. She said she didn’t want to talk about it. Then I noticed a paper in her hand. I took it and read it.

Someone had written unbelievably mean things to her. The anonymous note said she was ugly, that no one liked her, that she didn’t have any purpose for being alive, and that she ought to go and kill herself. I would never have believed someone like her could be attacked like that. It affected me deeply to know the pain she was going through.

From then on, I made an even bigger effort to be Destiny’s friend—not just to spend time with her, but to always be there for her, and especially to be sincere. I explained to her that she is a daughter of God, blessed with a divine nature, worthy of admiration and capable of great things.

It’s difficult to try to love yourself when others treat you badly and criticize you. As I befriended Destiny, I learned that sometimes the best way to help others is just to love them and to help them know who they truly are.

At the end of the year, when I had to return to France, Destiny told me something I will always treasure. “Emma,” she said, “you saved me. Before you came, I wanted to kill myself. But then you and your sister helped me a lot, just by caring. Today I love myself, and I love you.”

On a winter day not long after her baptism, Renee learned firsthand about the protection of the Holy Ghost. As she walked out the doors of her school, she heard a voice say, “Stop!” She looked around. She couldn’t see anyone, so she started forward again. Once again, the voice said, “Stop!” She obeyed.
As soon as she stopped, a pile of snow and big chunks of ice slid off the roof of the building and landed right in front of her! Her heart beat fast as she looked at the snow. If those ice chunks had hit her head, she could have been badly hurt.
Renee knew the Holy Ghost had warned her to stop. That night in her prayers, she thanked Heavenly Father for the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Have you seen the Church spot on television showing a darkened bedroom? The door opens, and in walks a little girl with a book under her arm. She goes over to where her dad is sound asleep and asks, “Daddy, will you read me a story?” The dad doesn’t open his eyes; he just mumbles in his sleep, “Oh, honey, Daddy is so tired. Ask Mommy.” The little girl patters over to where her mother is sleeping and asks, “Mommy, can Daddy read me a story?” You see the dad’s eyes pop open, and the next picture shows all three of them together, and Dad is reading a story.

During her campaign to be elected as the student president, Sue introduced a theme, “Seek for the highest that is in you.” As high school students will do, some started making fun of the theme. But Sue persevered, using the theme for all the school activities throughout the year, and the ridicule died down. The school principal said, “There are always those who will take something positive and try to make fun of it. Sue was able to overcome that just by her pleasant attitude and by not taking herself too seriously or getting defensive when people would make fun of the theme. The theme became the accepted motto for the students that year.”

She had just finished caring for her precious flowers one morning in ’59 when she received a phone call telling of an accident at her husband’s work. Two weeks later, father and son lay side by side for what she believed would be forever.

It had been hard after that accident that took her husband, but with help from the older children who were married and gone, she had managed to keep the house and property from becoming real estate owned by the Peoples City Bank.

After a short time at home, my father and I (mostly my father) decided that it was time for me to pursue another chapter in my search for happiness. So I left home for the happy hunting grounds of BYU in pursuit of an education . . . okay, an eternal companion. I must mention here that at that time there was somewhere around 28,000 students in attendance there. Even with that many people around, I never felt so alone in all my life. Was this joy? I knew that the Gospel was true and I continued to follow the spirit the best I could. And I found joy in serving in serving in church.

I found a good paying job that helped me buy a brand new car! This was joy!!! So I thought! I continued to be happy, even though I had not yet found “the one”! I was so happy, in fact, that I bought a license plate holder for my new car that expressed my joy. It read “Happiness is being Single”.

The path I was traveling soon took me back home again. It was there that my license plate holder had been seen by a member of my Stake Presidency. He extended a thorough interview and after signing my temple recommend said there could only be one other piece of paper that would be more valuable and bring more joy than the one he had just signed . . . that would be the one for the living ordinance . . . meaning getting sealed in the temple. And to help me with this search for “joy”, he would set up a series of interviews over the next six months. In the first two months, I was to report to him with a list of ten young women and their finest attributes. The following two months I would narrow that list down to three, and then the last two months I would narrow the list to one . . . and he said, “You can tell her before you tell me!”

Unbeknownst to him, I had started dating a young lady that was soon to be my bride! After six weeks of intensive dating and car repairs . . . a whole other story . . . we were engaged to be married, and I had to call that counselor in the stake presidency and cancel my interviews with him. I now knew what joy was! I had fasted and prayed many days, even been to the temple, and it had been confirmed to me that she was the one I was to marry!!! I only hoped that she had experienced the same feelings!! You see, she was waiting for a missionary . . . had been for nearly 18 months . . . just the wrong missionary!!! I convinced her that she deserved the best!!! So after another long six weeks of waiting and preparation, we were sealed in the Los Angeles Temple. Truly, this was joy!!! What could possibly bring more joy than this?

When I was 17 years old, I faced heavy peer pressure at my high school. The friends that I did have didn’t share my values. My friends and I participated in many appropriate activities together like playing basketball or football. But they also drank alcohol and smoked—two activities I didn’t do with them.
One day a group of us was outside of our school studying for a test we would take later that day. With me were two of my closest friends, Juan and Francisco (names have been changed). At one point, someone got out lighters and cigarettes. I thought my friends had gotten bored with studying and had forgotten I was there. I learned I was wrong when they turned to me and said, “Now is the time for Hugo to learn how to smoke.”
Before I even had the chance to react, Juan and Francisco leapt toward me and took me by the arms, one on each side. They held my arms down as someone pressed a cigarette between my lips. My body immediately rejected this, and I spit the cigarette on the ground, far from me. Soon after, I felt the blow of a clenched fist squarely connect with my cheekbone. They threatened me, saying, “We’re going to light the cigarette again, and you’re going to learn to take the smoke. Don’t throw it on the ground. If you do, it’s not going to go well.”
In that moment, I knew I was in trouble. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer asking for some type of help. As soon as I finished my prayer, our teacher’s car pulled up and parked near us. Our teacher got out of the car and asked us what we were doing. My friends released me. “We’re getting ready for the test,” they assured the teacher. We went into the school and took the test, and the situation ended.

Even when we think we are doing no harm by our critical remarks, consequences often follow. I am reminded of a boy who handed a donation envelope to his bishop and told him it was for him. The bishop, using this as a teaching moment, explained to the boy that he should mark on the donation slip whether it was for tithing, fast offerings, or for something else. The boy insisted the money was for the bishop himself. When the bishop asked why, the boy replied, “Because my father says you’re one of the poorest bishops we’ve ever had.”

Graffiti would soon disappear if those who spray it on had to clean it off. I still remember an experience during my first year in high school. I was eating lunch with some other boys. I peeled a banana and threw the peeling on the ground. Just at that moment the principal walked by. He asked me to pick up the banana peeling. I say he asked—there was a certain steely firmness in his voice. I got off the bench on which I was sitting and picked up the banana peeling. I put it in the trash can. There was other litter around the can. He told me that while I was picking up my own trash, I could pick up the trash of others. I did it. I have never thrown another banana peeling on the ground.

In the following years, fellowshipping helped Gary return to Church activity. Jennifer would invite ward members or the missionaries over for dinner, knowing that would give them a chance to talk with Gary. He is grateful to those members and missionaries for being a good influence on him.
Dale Price, for example, home taught Jennifer’s mother and got to know Gary and Jennifer that way. When Brother Price visited with Brother Tucker, they didn’t talk about the gospel at first. They talked about a common interest: hunting. The Prices also sat with the Tuckers at ward activities, brought them food from their food storage when Brother Tucker was out of work, and gave them honey produced by their own honeybees. Honey is the Tuckers’ favorite topping on toast. That little gift, as Brother Price describes it, was “to sweeten the relationship.”