Gospel Story Finder

I grew up attending the Ogden First Ward in Ogden, Utah, USA. When I was about nine years old, our bishop (who was my father) started the testimony portion of a fast and testimony meeting by asking everyone in the congregation to bear their testimony. The meeting proceeded just as Dad had asked. Almost everyone in attendance stood and bore their testimonies.
The church building where Elder Hales attended the Ogden First Ward as a child.
Photographs courtesy of the author
This was a notable event for me. Every testimony was simple, to the point, and focused on what each person knew to be true about the Savior and His gospel. As far as I could tell, everyone could feel a distinct outpouring of the Spirit. Undoubtedly, I had felt the Spirit before, but the Spirit was present in a remarkable way that day. I felt a powerful witness of the truthfulness of the gospel. After all these years, I have never forgotten this experience when I felt the unity of the ward and the love of the Savior.
As I remember that unique fast and testimony meeting from my childhood, the feelings I had and the seeds of testimony planted in my heart by the Holy Ghost help me want to be a better person now. When we follow Alma’s counsel by remembering our own spiritual experiences, faithfully adhering to our personal religious practices, and humbly pondering all the Savior has done for us, we strengthen our ability to honor our covenants and draw closer to Him.

As soon as Sister McKee was well, we started sharing the presentation with some of the people we were teaching as a supplement to the discussions. Our most spiritual experience was with the Aranda family. The Arandas wouldn’t commit to baptism even though they were praying and reading and asking questions. We decided to make a final effort. We would share our presentation about the Savior with them.
So began one of the most unforgettable experiences of my mission. As we gave the presentation, Sister McKee and I could hardly read our parts because our emotion was so great. When it was over, no one dared to break the silence and interrupt the peace that had filled the room. Brother Aranda had his head down. When he finally spoke, his eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t know what it is that I am feeling here”—he pointed to his chest—“but it is so strong, so wonderful, that I can’t express it.”
When we returned a few days later, the Arandas had decided to be baptized.

When I was quite young, I heard a talk given by a leader in the Church. I do not remember who he was or even the setting of the talk. Although I cannot give proper credit to him, I think he would be glad to know that an idea remained with me. He said he asked for forgiveness from the Lord every day and that he needed to repent every day. It may surprise you to know that I just did not get that, at all. I couldn’t really comprehend that the person who was speaking would actually be doing anything for which he needed to repent of every day. At the time, I had a very simple understanding of sin and I thought repentance was just for serious problems. I also thought that it was very uncomfortable and unpleasant to go through, so I certainly did not want to subject myself to it on a daily basis; I cringed at the thought. Even though I could not really accept what I had heard, the idea didn’t go away. It bugged me from time to time through my teenage years and into my early twenties, and I’m using the term “bugged” intentionally. I would like you to think about what it feels like to have a little ant or bug crawling somewhere on your skin. It’s not harmful, but it really gets your attention, and then you swat it away as fast as you can. That is what this idea was like for me. Then I learned more about Jesus Christ, the gift of his Atonement, the purpose of repentance, and the miracle of forgiveness. I learned more about a lot of things. I came to know that my Heavenly Father does live and he loves me and wants me to be able to return to him. I came to know that Jesus Christ does live and he loves me so much that he would atone for my sins and he would redeem me. I learned more about the gift of the Holy Ghost and why this is a truly priceless gift. The Holy Ghost can reveal to us the truth of our actions so that we may see every day the things we need to correct and the faults within ourselves that we must mend as we try to be like Jesus. The longer and more consistently we invite the tutoring of the Holy Ghost, the more refined our vision of ourselves becomes and our sensitivity to what is right and what is wrong is greatly increased.
So, in this life we may never run out of things to correct through repentance as the Holy Ghost diligently works to help us try to become more and more like Jesus. The idea that speaker left with me doesn’t “bug” me anymore. It comes back to me all the time, but now I welcome it like a brilliant little butterfly landing on my outstretched hand. In other words, I don’t swat it away but take great delight in it. The concept of frequent, sincere repentance and personal reflection has become beautiful to me. And, I do need it daily because I am mindful of things now that I didn’t used to be mindful of. I think when I am a little white-haired and wrinkly lady that I will still be refining myself through repentance. I hope by then I’ll be a righteous example in everything I do and say and think, but I’ll probably still have things to work on within myself. I’m sure I’ll still be learning the things we have all come here to learn. I hope I will make progress and prepare every day of my life for the moment when I meet my elder brother and Savior again. I don’t know when that moment will come. I want to be ready. I don’t want to be afraid to see him. I just want to be happy to see him again. I want to be able to look into his eyes and see joy. What do you want that moment to be like?

Suey watched Deana glide, spin around, and come to a stop at the end of the walk. She’s rolling on magic wheels, Suey thought, trying to imagine having her own magic wheels. She pushed the thought away quickly. Here in America she had so much that it would be ungrateful to want more.
Deana skated back and sprawled beside her friend. “Like them?” she asked.
“Oh, yes! What you call them?”
“Roll-er skates,” Deana said, pronouncing each syllable distinctly. “Roller skates.”
Suey tried to echo the words.
Deana clapped her hands approvingly. “Very good, Suey. You’re getting your r’s much better.”
Suey grinned. “How you get?” she asked.
“For my birthday,” Deana answered. Seeing Suey’s puzzled look, she tried to explain. “In America we get presents on our birthdays.”
Suey shook her head. The words had come too fast for her to understand. She tried another question: “Cost lots of money?”
Deana tried to speak more slowly. “I guess so. My mother told me that if I lose them I’ll be sorry.”
“Is it hard to make skates go?” Suey asked next.
“Just a little, at first,” Deana replied. “Here,” she offered, “try them yourself.”
Suey felt as if she were wobbling like a little baby as she stood up with the skates on. She clung to Deana and managed to not fall down. When she finally tried to move down the walk, her feet wanted to go every which way. Soon, with Deana’s help, she skated teeteringly to the corner, where they both collapsed on the grass with laughter.
“You did OK,” Deana said to her Laotian friend. “If you had your own skates,” she continued, speaking slowly, “you would soon skate like me.”
“No money,” Suey confessed.
Deana got up and brushed herself off. “Maybe you could earn some money. Sometimes I work for the neighbors, and they pay me for it. Maybe you could do that too.”
That night as Suey lay in her bed, she thought about Chu Nam, her brother. He earned money by cutting grass and by washing dishes at a restaurant. She sat up excitedly. She knew how to wash dishes! She could hardly wait until morning.
Suey was eleven, but she was small and looked much younger. She hoped the ladies in the neighborhood would not think she was too small to wash dishes.
She went to see Mrs. Bonn first. Mrs. Bonn had helped to bring Suey’s family to America.
When Mrs. Bonn opened the door, she smiled and said, “Why, hello, Suey. Come in.”
Suey searched her mind for the right words to say. “I come, wash dishes for you,” she managed.
“Suey, how nice of you. But I have a machine that washes my dishes for me. Come into the kitchen, and I’ll show you.”
Suey was bewildered as she went home. Chu Nam washed dishes for a lot of people, yet Mrs. Bonn had a machine to wash just a few dishes! Disappointed, she decided to try to forget about the magic wheels.
At home Ling Kou’s new baby was fussing. Suey picked him up, glad to have something else to think about. She discovered that he was wet, so she diapered him, then rocked him while her sister-in-law cooked.
“You’re a big help to me,” Ling Kou told her.
Suey flushed with pleasure. She loved to take care of the baby. Sometimes she would watch her other niece and nephew, too, while Ling Kou went to the washing place.
Suddenly Suey knew what she could do. She could tend children! Ladies might have machines to wash their dishes, but a machine couldn’t tend a baby. This afternoon she would find a lady who wanted a baby-sitter. Soon she would have her own magic wheels. And she would glide and spin and stop on them just like Deana.

My father was in the stake presidency in our small farming community, Preston, Idaho, and General Authorities visited our home quite often. When I was eleven years old, President George Albert Smith came to Preston to participate in a Boy Scout function. He had breakfast in our home, and he told our family of a spiritual experience that he had had. He said that when he was a young boy about my age, he had a great desire to know if there was, in fact, a God. He believed the story of Joseph Smith going into the Sacred Grove and seeing the face of and hearing the voice of Heavenly Father. For several years, President Smith said, he prayed every night that God would answer his prayers to tell him whether there was a God. After several years of earnest prayer each night, he heard the voice of the Lord say to him that indeed there was a God. This answer was in response to his faith and his perseverance. I have always remembered that story. It taught me both faith in prayer and the importance of taking our pleadings to the Lord.

The coarse dust of the harmattan wind blew across an expectant crowd in Accra, Ghana. Thousands of Latter-day Saints sat quietly, the air swelling with anticipation. They had worked and prepared, and now they were ready. It was time. The prophet was there.
The excitement of the youth in Ghana had begun months earlier with a request from President Gordon B. Hinckley to get the youth and children involved in the dedication of the Accra Ghana Temple, the first temple in West Africa.
For the youth in the Ghana area, getting involved meant hours of rehearsing native dances and songs and then putting them all together to create not only the biggest youth activity ever in Africa but a spectacular cultural event for the prophet.
President Hinckley arrived at the Accra Sports Stadium and found almost 1,000 youth, 700 Primary children, and all the full-time missionaries from the area waiting to perform for him. He was welcomed in English, French, and Twi, and with talking drums.
The missionaries started the show by singing “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249), and then the youth took over. Dressed in traditional costumes, they were organized within their stakes and districts to represent various regions and villages.
Desmond Ahwireng, a youth, played Anansi, a legendary spider from African folklore. Onstage, Anansi went from village to village looking for all the good things in the world so he could keep them for himself, gathering them into a gourd he carried on his head. As he approached each village, the youth in that village sang and danced for him and gave him good things like courage, service, love, music, and family.
At the end of his journey, Anansi found the Accra Ghana Temple. The beauty of the temple convinced the selfish spider that he should not keep all the good things he had collected for himself, so he emptied the contents of his gourd to share them with everyone. Anansi’s good deed was greeted by 700 Primary children, all dressed in white, singing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).
The youth in Ghana will remember the dedication of this temple. They, like Anansi, love to see the temple and hope its presence there will move them to share the good they have as they continue to follow the counsel of the prophet.

On bright, sunny days, shadow tag was a perfect game to play. At the beginning of recess, Henry was chosen to be it. Henry chased the other boys and girls, trying to step on somebody’s shadow. He was just about to step on Laura’s shadow, when she cleverly hid it inside a tree’s shadow. But Laura couldn’t stay there; she had to count to ten, then leave the safety of the shadow. When she did, Henry quickly stomped on her shadow, and she became it.

Ten years after John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff arrived in England, my own great-grandfather, Henry Ballard, was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by a faithful member:
“Henry was only seventeen years old at the time he joined the Church [in 1849]. … Sometime during the winter months of 1849, Henry traveled to London News, a community … north of London, to live with his married brother George [who] … had established a fairly successful carriage business in the area. They had much to offer Henry—especially material things. George was always kind to Henry, and being eleven years older, felt the need to protect and watch after his welfare. The following incident bears this out.
“It was Sunday evening, and Henry had just returned from church. George, curious about Henry’s whereabouts, inquired as to where he had been. ‘To church,’ Henry replied. George, having already attended church without seeing Henry there asked, ‘What church?’ ‘The Mormon church,’ Henry said truthfully. Amazed and astonished, George vocally wondered why, in heaven’s name, would he attend the ‘detestable’ Mormon church. ‘Because I am a member of it,’ replied Henry. Henry then bore his testimony of the truthfulness of what he believed to be the only true church. George, unconverted, became angry.
“George reprimanded Henry severely and told him he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. Henry remained firm, but feared what his older brother might do.
“When George could see he was getting nowhere, he enlisted the support of his minister. Three days passed as they tried to persuade Henry to change his mind. First one would pray, then the other, in an effort to save Henry. Henry held steadfastly to his convictions, never wavering nor doubting. The Holy Ghost had told him the Church was true. He dared not deny it. Convinced no argument of reason … would ever change Henry’s mind, George took another approach.
“As Satan tempted Christ, George tempted Henry—or tried to. He offered to give him the best carriage in all of London. He would give him a coachman to drive him around and cater to all of his whims. Henry would be a gentleman as he presented himself in his fine clothes, kidskin gloves, and silk hat.
“How could Henry refuse the hospitality of George’s fine home for as long as he wished? Henry would never have to work, unless it became his desire. A part of the business would be his, and he would never again live in poverty, as his father and mother had all their lives. No religion would be worth losing all this. George only asked for Henry to give up the ‘foolish notion’ of Mormonism.
“Like [the Prophet] Joseph Smith, Henry kept the faith. His testimony and strength of character prevailed.
“George was explosive. He expelled Henry from his home—forever. Henry left, heavy of heart over being such a disappointment to the brother he loved, a brother who had been so kind and giving. Henry was never to set eyes on him again in this life” (Douglas O. Crookston, editor, Henry Ballard: The Story of a Courageous Pioneer, 1832–1908 [1994], 4–6).

Christl Fechter faced this challenge and, with the Lord’s help, overcame it. As a young woman, she was forced by political upheaval to leave her home-land—what is now Czechoslovakia—for Germany. There she learned about the Church and was baptized. She later moved to the United States. While living in Utah, she was hurt terribly by someone and, for the first time in her life, felt hatred.
“I had been through all the terrors of the invasion of my country, but I had never before experienced the feeling of hate,” she says. “I knew this feeling was wrong, but I did not know how to change it.”
One day she read Matt. 5:43–44: “I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; …
Christl felt that this passage was meant just for her. “I could not imagine myself praying for this person, but I wanted to do what the Lord said, and I knew I had to get rid of the hatred,” she says. So she knelt that night and prayed, through clenched teeth, that the Lord would bless the person who had hurt her.
She felt a little better. The next night she prayed again, this time sincerely, and she immediately felt the hatred leave her, never to return. She discovered that the Lord could pour out his Spirit upon her and teach her to love as he does.

If we can understand what was inside of him in love for his brethren, we will understand why his soul was wounded to the core when men came across the river at Montrose and accused him of cowardice—said that, despite his words about standing up for them, now that trouble had come he was the first one to run. That’s when he replied, “If my life is of no value to my friends it is of none to myself.” That was when the resolve was made to return. He had had light in his decision to leave—“It is clear to my mind what to do.” We can certainly say that the death of the Prophet was brought on by his enemies. Perhaps we must also say that it was brought on by some of his friends.

After all that the Saints had received from Joseph, there were some who at that stage could not believe him when he said, “All they want is Hyrum and myself. . . . They will come here and search for us. Let them search; they will not harm you . . . not even a hair of your head. We will cross the river tonight, and go away to the West.” But the pot was boiling. Reports were coming in every hour telling of increasing numbers of men who had come from Missouri to join the Illinois mobs; the mobs that were being gathered, the cannons they had available, the threats they were making. In the midst of that flood of evidence, Joseph’s statement, “You will be safe,” could not be believed. More than a hundred, Vilate Kimball wrote, had left Nauvoo. Seeing them go, the Prophet said, “Look at the cowards.” Now he himself was called a coward. And against the light, he came back. “The light he had was toward the mountains.”

Porter Rockwell, when asked what he thought should be done, replied to the Prophet in a nineteenth-century phrase—“As you make your bed, I will lie with you.” Said Joseph, “Hyrum, you are the oldest, what shall we do?” Hyrum answered, “Let us go back and give ourselves up.” The Prophet, probably thinking of the governor’s stern, uncompromising letter, said, “If you go back I will go with you, but we shall be butchered.” “No, no,” said Hyrum, “let us go back and put our trust in God, and we shall not be harmed.”

The third principle is to celebrate the success of others. This year, at the NCAA indoor track and field championships in Fayetteville, Arkansas, Diljeet Taylor coached four of our women’s distance runners to national titles in the 3,000-meter race and the distance medley relay.40 Two days later, she coached a team of seven different runners to the NCAA women’s cross country national championship.41 In a postrace interview from the windy course in Stillwater, Oklahoma, Coach Taylor described one of the keys to success that she has instilled in the women she coaches:

One of the things that I think is super crucial—and we did this early on, years ago—is teaching women how to be happy for their teammates’ success. I think sometimes that can be hard. So all season long, as I separated the teams back in January between our indoor team and our cross country team (they didn’t practice together the entire time), they were celebrating each other’s successes and actually getting momentum from the other team. I think what we did in Fayetteville a couple days ago, our women’s team was so pumped for it. I think it just set the tone for the weekend, like, okay we’re a part of this sisterhood too, and we’re now going to go out and do great things.42

Coach Taylor leads by example in celebrating the success of others. She is often the first to congratulate her BYU coaching colleagues when they land an important recruit or win a big game. She knows that celebrating the success of others doesn’t diminish her own accomplishments but instead creates a feeling of excitement and unity in the shared vision of success.

Many years ago, my ministering brothers invited me to seriously study the Book of Mormon. When they gave me this invitation, I realized that, although I read a little from the Book of Mormon each day, I wasn’t seriously studying it.
They shared a promise with me that was based on words from President Ezra Taft Benson: “There is a power in the [Book of Mormon] which will begin to flow into your lives the moment you begin a serious study of the book. You will find greater power to resist temptation … to avoid deception … to stay on the strait and narrow path” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Ezra Taft Benson [2014], 141).
I accepted their invitation, and in the following months I saw that their promise was fulfilled. It has changed my life.

Rajinder sat in Primary with his arms folded. On one side of him was an empty chair. On the other side was a boy who couldn’t sit still. Rajinder felt very much alone.
He couldn’t help noticing how different he looked from the rest of the children. His skin was dark and smooth. Their skins were shades of pink, sometimes tanned or freckled from the sun. His hair was shiny black; theirs, brown or red or yellow. His eyes were large and dark instead of pale-lashed and blue.
Rajinder didn’t know how to go about making friends. Not only had his family just moved to a new country called Canada, they had also joined a new church with a name so long he could hardly pronounce it. And when someone in this new church talked to him, he was too shy to answer. He had finally decided that the best thing to do was sit quietly until it was over and then go home.
At home, Rajinder wouldn’t be lonely anymore because there he had lots of friends. At home, Rajinder had his dragons. He drew them in notebooks, on scraps of paper, and even on old pieces of cloth. He drew red dragons with smoke spiraling from their nostrils. He drew green dragons with flames shooting from their gaping jaws. He drew pink and blue baby dragons and black and purple grandfather dragons, dragons that slept, dragons that flew, and dragons that ate in great greedy gulps. When Rajinder was at home with his dragons, he was never lonely.
Then one Sunday Sister Werth, the Primary president, announced that each class would draw a large scene from the Book of Mormon, and all the pictures would be hung on the walls of the Primary room. The children were excited, and the very next Sunday during Sharing Time, everyone set to work.
For a while Rajinder tried really hard. He drew a Lamanite holding a sword, but the warrior ended up looking like a tall skinny dragon with no wings. Then he tried to draw a group of Nephite children clearing away rocks, but they looked exactly like a cluster of newly-hatched baby dragons popping from their shells. Finally Rajinder gave up and just watched.
Rajinder didn’t notice that Brother Olsen, his Primary teacher, was watching, too, with concern in his eyes. Rajinder couldn’t see Brother Olsen kneeling beside his bed that night, either, asking Heavenly Father to help him find a way to make Rajinder feel welcome. He didn’t see Brother Olsen sitting in his easy chair, reading the Book of Mormon and finally setting it down with a look of relief and excitement.
The next Sunday during Sharing Time, Brother Olsen took his class over to one corner of the room and spoke quietly. After that, Rajinder worked side by side with the rest of his class, his dark head bent over the paper, his eyes glowing with excitement. Standing nearby was Brother Olsen, looking very pleased and blocking the view of every curious child from another class who ventured too near.
Two weeks later, the drawings were all finished and ready to be hung. One by one the classes taped their artistic creations on the Primary room walls. There were drawings of fierce Lamanites, great Nephite kings, and prophets warning the people. There was a picture of Jesus in America, blessing the little children.
Then, at last, it was Rajinder’s turn. He and his classmates carried their picture forward and held it proudly for all to see. The other Primary children oohed and aahed. Sister Werth looked surprised. Rajinder’s class had drawn a beautiful picture of two great armies facing one another, ready for battle. On one side, eager to conquer, were the Lamanites with painted faces. On the other side, holding their flag of freedom, were the Nephites wearing their armor and shields. And here and there, standing alongside every third or fourth soldier, were dragons. There were red dragons with smoke drifting up from their noses, and green dragons with flames spewing into the air. There were big dragons and little dragons, there were angry ones and calm, thoughtful ones. They were the most magnificent dragons Rajinder had ever drawn.
Only one person in the whole Primary was frowning. Jenny jumped up from Sister Pierce’s class and pointed a finger. “You can’t put that picture up!” she exclaimed.
“Why not?” asked Brother Olsen, with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.
“Because the drawings must be from the Book of Mormon,” Jenny answered smugly. “Those are the rules. And there are no dragons in the Book of Mormon.”
Brother Olsen smiled at her. Then he opened his Book of Mormon and read Mosiah 20:11, emphasizing one word: “But they [the Nephites] fought for their lives, and for their wives, and for their children; therefore they exerted themselves and like dragons did they fight.”
Jenny sat down. Rajinder stood holding the picture and smiling the biggest, brightest smile anyone in Primary had ever seen.
Sister Werth hung the picture at the front of the Primary room, and during the weeks that followed, many ward members came to see it. The bishop especially liked the yellow dragon with brown spots that was blowing fire at the Lamanite leader. The ward clerk was partial to the little blue dragon coming from behind a tree. And the Relief Society president asked Rajinder to make her a copy of the big orange dragon wearing a breastplate.
Best of all, from then on, only some of Rajinder’s friends were dragons.

Some years ago while I was attending the Grand Junction Colorado Stake conference, the stake president asked if I would meet with a grieving mother and father whose son had announced his decision to leave his mission field after having just arrived there. When the conference throng had left, we knelt quietly in a private place—mother, father, stake president, and I. As I prayed in behalf of all, I could hear the muffled sobs of a sorrowing mother and disappointed father.

When we arose, the father said, “Brother Monson, do you really think our Heavenly Father can alter our son’s announced decision to return home before completing his mission? Why is it that now, when I am trying so hard to do what is right, my prayers are not heard?”

I responded, “Where is your son serving?”

He replied, “In Duesseldorf, Germany.”

I placed my arms around that mother and father and said to them, “Your prayers have been heard and are already being answered. With more than twenty-eight stake conferences being held this day attended by the General Authorities, I was assigned to your stake. Of all the Brethren, I am the only one who has the assignment to meet with the missionaries in the Duesseldorf Germany Mission this very Thursday.”

Their petition had been honored by the Lord. I was able to meet with their son. He responded to their pleadings. He remained and completed a highly successful mission.

I recently attended the funeral for one of my boyhood friends. This brother was genetically challenged from birth. He could understand concepts quite well but could not read or write. His speech was limited to a very few identifiable words, along with a jargon all of his own. Some in our group could recognize a few words he spoke. However, we could usually tell from the tone of his words whether he was expressing his concerns or his great capacity to love. Much of Lynn’s early life was spent in a special school away from home. He spent his summers and many holidays at home with his family. For the past 17 years, Lynn, who outlived all of his family, lived in a care center where his many needs could best be met.

Upon Lynn’s death, one of his special friends arranged a funeral to be held in the meetinghouse we attended as boys. Present at the funeral were his dear friends, the staff from the care center, a few ward members who remembered him from many years ago, and about a dozen boyhood friends and their families. Several brethren who had stayed close to Lynn during his long, often lonesome stay at the care center offered tender remarks.

All of our memories were refreshed during the course of the service. One friend recalled that on one occasion our Sunday School teacher invited us to bear our testimonies in class. As he sequentially called upon us, he passed over Lynn, perhaps feeling he could not respond with understanding. With all the righteous indignation Lynn could muster, he let the teacher know he expected his opportunity to express himself. Though we didn’t understand much of what he said, we felt his love and the depth of a great spirit tragically locked in a body that could not fully function. The spirit in that class was very strong!

As the staff and the special friends from the care center expressed their unconditional love, it was very evident that Lynn, in his humble way, had reached out and touched their lives. During the course of the funeral, it was apparent that at least three of our boyhood friends and their families had reached out to minister to Lynn in ways that included regular visits, long automobile rides, invitations to dinners on special occasions, and birthday parties.

When the stories and recollections were complete, we all realized that our physically challenged, loving angel of a friend had given us and the wonderful compassionate families who reached out so often in love, far more of real value than he had ever received.

A few years ago my older brother was on a foreign exchange trip in Moscow, Russia. At that time, a prominent Russian political leader had been saying things against the Church. My mom and I were worried for my brother’s safety. He was staying with a family we didn’t know much about, and we worried what they would think. We didn’t know what the Russian people’s reactions toward the Church and toward my brother would be.
We decided to pray. In fact, we said many prayers that night. When it was time for me to go to bed, I said one more prayer for my brother. I had the feeling that I should read my scriptures. When I opened them, the first scripture that I saw was D&C 98:1–3. The verses read:
“Verily I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord.”
This scripture was a definite answer to prayer. It seemed like Heavenly Father was talking directly to me—that the scripture was written just so that I could find it more than 150 years later. I went upstairs to show my mom. When she read it, tears welled up in her eyes. We both knew that everything would be okay. We knew that Heavenly Father had control over the situation.
Sure enough, the president of Russia defended the Church, and the Russian government leader apologized for what he had said. Soon afterwards, my brother returned home safe and sound.
I am so grateful to Heavenly Father for helping me find that scripture and for giving my mom and me comfort in our time of need.

“I bet I can ride faster than you!” Diego called to his older brother, Caesar, as they ran through the house. It was Saturday, and their family was going on a bike ride. Diego couldn’t wait to enjoy the sunny day.
“Don’t forget your helmets!” Mom reminded them as they headed for the door.
Diego groaned. He hated wearing his helmet. It made his head sweaty. Plus, his friends said helmets were for babies and old people.
“But we’re not going far,” Diego said. “And I’m a really good bike rider.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “Whether we’re going five feet or five miles, everybody wears a helmet.”
Dad poked his head around the corner. “That’s the family rule, remember?”
Diego sighed. “OK.” He and Caesar went back to their room. They grabbed their helmets and snapped them in place before heading outside.
Soon Diego and his family were all pedaling down the street. After a while, the road narrowed, and the pavement turned into gravel. Diego smiled and gripped the handle bars tighter. He loved this part! He imagined himself as a mountain biker, bumping down a rocky trail.
Then it happened.
He felt his bike jolt to a stop, and suddenly he was flying over the handlebars!
THUD. The next thing he knew, Diego was lying on the ground. He could hear his family’s voices.
“Is he OK?”
“What happened?”
“Looks like his wheel hit some metal on the road.”
Diego opened his eyes. Everyone was kneeling around him.
“Are you all right?” Mom asked.
“I … I think so,” Diego said. It felt like his mouth was full of dirt! He stretched out his leg and winced. His knee and elbow were stinging, but nothing hurt too much. After Diego rested for a few minutes, Mom helped him sit up. Diego took off his helmet.
“Oh wow,” Dad said. “Look at this.” He held Diego’s helmet out for everyone to see. The back of the helmet had a big dent in it.
“Woah!” Caesar said. “That could’ve been your head!”
When Diego felt well enough to walk, he and his family pushed their bikes back home. Then Mom carefully washed Diego’s scrapes, dabbing ointment and smoothing bandages over the sore spots.
“Thanks, Mom,” Diego said.
“No problem, kiddo. Our first-aid kit comes in handy every once in a while.”
“I mean thank you for making me wear my helmet,” Diego said. He ran a hand through the hair on the back of his head.
Mom nodded and pulled him into a gentle hug. “Rules are hard to follow sometimes, and we might not always understand why they’re important,” she said. “But rules from those who love you—like Heavenly Father and Dad and me—those rules are meant to keep you safe.”
Caesar popped into the doorway. “Dad told me to tell you that lunch is almost ready. He made quesadillas.”
“Mmmmm,” Diego said. “Maybe some salsa will get the taste of gravel out of my mouth!”
Everyone laughed and walked to the kitchen.
“Don’t forget to wash your hands before we eat,” Dad said, setting a plate of the warm tortillas and melty cheese onto the table.
“But I don’t want to wash my ha—” Diego started to say. Then he stopped himself. Maybe this was one of those rules Mom was talking about.
“You got it, Dad,” he said. He turned to Caesar with a grin. “Race you to the sink!”

After graduation, he took a position with a company in Idaho. Just as he was trying to learn a new job and get his family settled, he was called to be second counselor in the bishopric. His first reaction was to decline—and feel justified about it. But previous training proved stronger than any excuses he could think of, and he agreed to serve.
That decision proved to be an important one for his spiritual growth. It furthered his secular education as well, for it taught him organization and management that could also be applied in business assignments. His successful career in retailing took the Perrys to the states of Idaho, Washington, California, New York, and Massachusetts. Each time business opportunities required a move, he responded willingly to new Church callings. Along the way he taught early-morning seminary and served in two bishoprics, a high council, and two stake presidencies. He was a stake president in Boston, Massachusetts, at the time of his call as a General Authority.

One Saturday a schoolteacher knocked on our door to talk to my father about my nephew. I found myself looking at a book he held, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder. Seeing my interest, he offered to leave the book. He also said I could attend a study group.
I spent almost the whole night scanning the book, stopping to take notes whenever I came across something new. Although I did not fully understand the doctrine, I felt no doubt about its truthfulness. I had a feeling of joy—as if I were discovering a genuine gem among thousands of imitations.
The next evening I joined five other people in a study group at the home of Mr. Kasongo. He had been doing research when he came across a book about American churches. “My heart pounded as I read the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he said. After writing to the Church’s headquarters, he received some literature—including A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
For two years, our group met twice a week. When missionaries, Elder Roger L. and Sister Simonne B. Dock, arrived in March 1987, 50 people were studying together.
The Docks began teaching the missionary discussions in French in the public school. Because some people spoke only Swahili, I interpreted. I heard the missionary discussions for the first time myself while interpreting.
On 9 May 1987 I was one of 80 people baptized in a pool at an abandoned copper mine. For me, baptism was an outer confirmation of an inner conversion that had taken place years earlier. I had been waiting for this sacred ordinance so I could officially become a member of the Church.
I have received so many blessings—among them the time I spent translating for couple missionaries. They are as dedicated as if the Master Himself were physically beside them.
I thank my Heavenly Father for these rich experiences and for the opportunity my wife, Jolie Mwenze, and I have to raise our son in the Church. And particularly I thank Him for sending me the gospel—a gem beyond price.

Kirtland, January 14, 1833. … The Lord commanded us, in Kirtland, [Ohio,] to build a house of God, … this is the word of the Lord to us, and … the Lord helping us, we will obey. …
June 1st [1833] I received the following:
“Ye have sinned against me. …
“Yea, verily I say unto you, I gave unto you a commandment that you should build a house, in the which house I design to endow those whom I have chosen with power from on high. …
“Verily I say unto you, it is my will that you should build a house. If you keep my commandments you shall have power to build it.”
June 5 [1833].—George A. Smith hauled the first load of stone for the Temple, and Hyrum Smith and Reynolds Cahoon commenced digging the trench for the walls of the Lord’s house, and finished the same with their own hands.
On [July 23, 1833], … the corner stones of the Lord’s House were laid in Kirtland, after the order of the Holy Priesthood.
October 1–15 [1834].—Great exertions were made to [speed up] the work of the Lord’s house, and notwithstanding it was commenced almost with nothing, as to means, yet the way opened as we proceeded. …
Sunday, March 27 [1836].—The congregation began to assemble at the Temple, at about seven o’clock … to witness the dedication of the Lord’s House. …
Presidents Rigdon, Cowdery and myself seated the congregation as they came in. …
At nine o’clock a. m. President Sidney Rigdon commenced the services. … He admitted there were many houses … built for the worship of God, but not one except this … that was built by divine revelation. …
I then made a short address. …
[The dedicatory prayer was offered next—see D&C 109.]
The assembly dispersed a little past four o’clock. …
I met the quorums in the evening. …
Brother George A. Smith arose and began to prophesy, when a noise was heard like the sound of a rushing mighty wind, which filled the Temple, and all the congregation simultaneously arose, being moved upon by an invisible power; many began to speak in tongues and prophesy; others saw glorious visions; and I beheld the Temple was filled with angels. … The people of the neighborhood came running together (hearing an unusual sound within, and seeing a bright light like a pillar of fire resting upon the Temple), and were astonished at what was taking place. This continued until the meeting closed at eleven p. m.