Gospel Story Finder

Michelle sat outside the bishop’s office trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Would this interview be like a test? What if she got the answers wrong? Could she still get a temple recommend in time for her first trip to do baptisms for the dead?
“Is everything all right, honey?” Mom asked.
Michelle tried to smile. “Yes. I’m just nervous. What if I don’t know all the answers? What if I forget one of the Articles of Faith or something?”
Dad reached over and patted her hand. “It isn’t a quiz, sweetie. Just be yourself and answer honestly. You have nothing to worry about.”
But she did worry! Today was her 12th birthday, and she wanted to do baptisms for the dead the very next day. She’d been planning it for months. She was even going to wait to have her birthday party until her family got home from the temple. If she messed up in the interview and missed doing baptisms, she’d be so disappointed.
She kept running through the Articles of Faith in her mind just in case.
Soon the door opened. The bishop leaned out of his office and smiled. “Hello, Michelle. Come on in!”
Michelle gulped and walked inside his office.
The bishop started by asking Michelle about her birthday plans. That wasn’t so scary to talk about. Then they talked about her Primary class for a little while.
“Are you excited to go into Young Women?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!” Michelle answered. They talked for several minutes about why she was looking forward to becoming a Beehive.
Then the bishop asked Michelle about her testimony and if she kept the commandments. Those questions were easy to answer. She knew the Church was true. She tried to live the gospel. Michelle started feeling less worried.
And then, before she knew it, the interview was over. The bishop filled out the recommend and handed it to Michelle. She blinked at the little paper she held in her hand. She had her very own temple recommend!
The bishop smiled. “Have a happy birthday and a wonderful time at the temple.”
Michelle could hardly wait!
For the rest of the day, Michelle couldn’t think about anything but the temple. All her life she’d been learning about the temple. And tomorrow she was going inside for real.
Finally the big day arrived. Later that night there’d be a party with presents and cake. Grandma and Grandpa would be there too. But none of that was on her mind as she put on her best church clothes. She was going to the temple. Her birthday wish was coming true.
“All ready, Michelle?” Mom asked.
Michelle nodded. Boy, was she ready!
And yet, as soon as Dad pulled the car out of the driveway, Michelle started feeling jittery all over again. Would she be able to stay quiet inside the temple? She knew the temple was a sacred place, and she wanted to be reverent. But sometimes she got so excited about things that she forgot to whisper. Would this be one of those times?
But as soon as they stepped inside the temple, Michelle’s nervousness completely disappeared. She felt more peaceful and calm than she ever had before. She could feel this was a special place. Michelle was inside the temple with Mom and Dad.
This really was the best way to celebrate her birthday.

A homely story contains a warning. I like this story because it translates easily into different languages and cultures.
Two men formed a partnership. They built a small shed beside a busy road. They obtained a truck and drove it to a farmer’s field, where they purchased a truckload of melons for a dollar a melon. They drove the loaded truck to their shed by the road, where they sold their melons for a dollar a melon. They drove back to the farmer’s field and bought another truckload of melons for a dollar a melon. Transporting them to the roadside, they again sold them for a dollar a melon. As they drove back toward the farmer’s field to get another load, one partner said to the other, “We’re not making much money on this business, are we?” “No, we’re not,” his partner replied. “Do you think we need a bigger truck?”
We don’t need a bigger truckload of information, either. Like the two partners in my story, our biggest need is a clearer focus on how we should value and use what we already have.
Because of modern technology, the contents of huge libraries and other data resources are at the fingertips of many of us. Some choose to spend countless hours in unfocused surfing the Internet, watching trivial television, or scanning other avalanches of information. But to what purpose? Those who engage in such activities are like the two partners in my story, hurrying to and fro, hauling more and more but failing to grasp the essential truth that we cannot make a profit from our efforts until we understand the true value of what is already within our grasp.

Early in Joseph’s marriage, he learned that his success in doing the work of the Lord was directly linked to the harmony that prevailed in his home. While he was working on the translation of the Book of Mormon, Joseph and Emma had “some words,” as every young married couple occasionally does. Joseph went upstairs in the Whitmer home to continue the translation of the Book of Mormon, but he discovered that he could not, for “all was dark.” It wasn’t until Joseph had retired to the woods to pray for forgiveness and then returned to obtain Emma’s forgiveness that the Spirit of the Lord returned so that the translation could continue. (See B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 1:130–131.)

After reaching the Salt Lake Valley, Totshauna settled in what is today known as Holladay. Not long after her arrival, she became the plural wife of Samual Hoopes. (I wonder if Samual was as enchanted as I am by her plain and lovely crown of plaits.) She had nine children by Samual; only seven lived past infancy. Her husband, at one time, was two and a half years absent from his family, which included three wives and numerous children, while serving a mission for the Church in the British Isles. Totshauna later sent three sons on missions after Samual’s death, with each son proving an added hardship, for her boys were among the eldest of her children and were depended upon to aid in the support of the entire family. Her own sketchy journal (now kept treasured in soft cloth in my grandmother’s bureau), which she kept for a brief period following Samual’s death, reads: “Hyrum left with elders Whitney and Williams in a wagon and went to take the rail to Canada. I packed him two beef tarts and two loaves bread with chokeberry jam, and Samual’s Book of Mormon, and an extra shirt and pair socks. He is seventeen.”

I have a very funny kitten. She followed my grandpa home one day, and she has stayed with us since then. We call her Shadow because she is black.
Shadow always looks up. She jumps into the empty bathtub, looks up at the towels, then jumps up to pull one down. When she is outside and wants to come in, she looks up at the window in the door and jumps up and holds on to the window frame with her paws and looks in at us.
Sometimes I think Shadow believes she is a dog. She jumps out of a hiding place and lands on my dog; then they roll around on the ground and playfully chew on each other. When my dog grabs a stick, Shadow runs around, trying to catch it. They even eat out of the same bowl.
Shadow really loves to look up at my grandpa. He picks her up and pets her and tells her what a good kitty she is. I think she loves him in a special way because he found her. She was very tiny and sick when she followed him home. He took her to the animal doctor to get her some medicine. Grandpa made her a nice, warm bed in our house too.

More than a decade ago a major in the U.S. Air Force told of his test flights. He was born of goodly parents who taught him righteousness. He had flown 25 different types of military aircraft in 4,000 hours in the air. He had flown 142 combat missions in Korea and had received many distinguished medals. He told us that “before takeoff every pilot takes a few moments to make a last-minute check of his engine, flight controls, hydraulic and pneumatic systems and other essential subsystems of his aircraft to be sure the flight can at least begin safely. … His reactions to emergency conditions must be instinctive and as infallible as human thought and reflexes permit.

“… Yet, there is something missing on the printed checklist which to me has become as necessary to a successful flight as lowering the wheels for a smooth landing. It is a prayer to ask my Father in heaven to bless me that my best judgment and skill will guide my actions, especially in periods of stress. There have been several instances … in which I know the answer to this prayer has been received with dramatic suddenness. …”

When the Explorers returned to Guayaquil, they shopped for souvenirs and visited some of the historical sites of the city. Walter P. Crespo, the Scout executive for Guayas Province, explained the history of the various monuments and their significance to the citizens of Guayaquil. He even showed them where a branch of the Church held its meetings.
“Boy, to think that just a few months before, my family was sitting in the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City,” Nik comments, “and then to realize I was in South America—what a great time to live!”

I grew up in the Church—I went to the activities, and I participated in family prayer and scripture study. But I didn’t really have a testimony. I didn’t know if I believed in God or His Son. I didn’t know if the Book of Mormon was true.
I wanted a testimony, but I felt frustrated after praying many times without feeling like I had received an answer. I started wondering, “If God is real, why won’t He show me? Why does He let me sit here wondering?”
Looking back, I can see clearly why I wasn’t getting an answer: I wasn’t really putting in the effort. I would read my scriptures for five minutes once a week and expect some revelatory experience just because I asked for it.
I didn’t understand that faith is a principle of action.
Anyone looking from the outside would have called me “active” in the Church, but I still didn’t know if the Church was true. But I did want to know.
So I decided to serve a mission. I incorrectly assumed that as a missionary, I would automatically be more likely to get answers from God. I still wasn’t putting much effort into praying or studying, but soon I had my assignment.
At the start of my mission, I struggled to feel the Spirit while training online during the pandemic because of my half-hearted effort. But then I got to the missionary training center in person. And my time there was the most spiritual experience of my life. It was the first time I had a simple seed of faith that was real.
Finally entering the mission field was hard. I felt like the small testimony I had gained got lost.
One day I was crying, and then a memory popped into my head. My dad used to ask me how my day at school was, and I would always say it was boring. And he would say, “Well, that’s because you made it boring. If you want school to be fun, make it fun.” I realized that I could either make the most of my time on my mission through learning and growth or I could be miserable.
So I prayed with more sincerity than ever to tell Heavenly Father that I was going to try and change my attitude. After that, I was motivated to put in new effort. I started to truly study and pray and ponder, and over time that glimmer of testimony came back—and continued to grow. I was less frustrated, and I started finding joy in the gospel.
I was never going to strengthen my faith without changing my attitude, following this pattern, and putting my full heart into connecting with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. When I made those changes, I started to receive answers and believe truths.
For onlookers, my level of activity in the Church probably looks the same as it always has. But I’ve changed my commitment to the gospel in my heart. And that has made all the difference.

About 14 years ago, Tanya Price (who the young women know today as the bishop’s wife1) lost a baby at birth. The Prices named her Abby, and mourned as a member of their eternal family was laid to rest. Now, years later, at a Young Women in Excellence fireside in northern Utah, Bishop Jared Price spoke about his daughter.
“She would be your age now,” he said. “She would be with you, working on projects you’re working on, going to your meetings, joining you in prayer.” He said he and his wife still missed Abby, even though they had known her for only a few hours in this life.
Abby’s parents, Tanya and Jared Price.
“When Bishop Price talked about his love for Abby, it made me realize, ‘That’s how my father feels about me,’” says Kayla F., 16. “It helped me love my own family even more, and realize how much Heavenly Father loves me.”
Earlier that same evening, one of the Young Women leaders, Danielle Jensen, had been praying to find an activity for the coming year that would bless the girls.
After hearing the bishop speak, Sister Jensen’s husband, Tyce, suggested: Why not do the Personal Progress program on Abby’s behalf, then surprise Bishop and Sister Price with the results? Sister Jensen talked to the other leaders and the girls, and The Abby Price Project—AP Project, for short—was underway.
Young women and leaders of the Prices’ ward.
In addition to doing her own Personal Project activities, each girl would do a values experience or project on behalf of Abby. As activities were completed, they would describe in a journal what they had done. At the end of the year they would present the Prices with the journal, a video of the year’s activities, ribbons, and a medallion. In the meantime, everything was confidential.
“We wanted to show the Prices that we thought of Abby as one of us,” says McKenna U., 14.
“Sometimes it was hard to keep it secret,” says Jocelyn J., 13. “On Sundays, we would talk about our plans, but just in the Young Women room. If anyone asked, we told them we were doing Personal Progress.”
Kayla F.
McKenna U.
Jocelyn J.
“My values project was to improve a talent,” says Hannah H., 15. “I had already done it for myself, but doing it again for Abby made me think about what kinds of talents she has and what she might be doing with them in heaven.”
“It was interesting reading the Book of Mormon for someone else,” Morgan S., 18, says. “Sometimes I would read a scripture out loud, to share it with Abby and think about what it would mean to her.”
“I think it was neat that when we worked on the AP project, we couldn’t count it for ourselves,” says Sidney B., 16. “We got to feel Abby’s spirit, and when we were done we got to write in the journal how we felt about her and her family.”
“It kept us thinking about someone else,” says Hallie C., 13.
Hannah H.
Sidney B.
Hallie C.
On Abby’s birthday, the young women decorated her grave with sunflowers and balloons and cleaned and decorated other graves nearby.
“Sunflowers became the symbol for the AP Project,” Britten M., 15 explains. “The leaders gave each of us a sunflower charm bracelet to remind us of Abby and of service.” Many of the girls still wear the bracelets every day.
“Sunflowers are bright and pretty, so we felt they were a good way to represent Abby,” explains Morgan S. 18.
“And sunflowers are drawn to the light,” says Emma E., 16. “So they remind us young women and daughters of God to find spiritual light.”
“When President [Russell M.] Nelson invited teens to join the youth battalion, it was like we were already prepared to join,” says another Abby, Abby E., 14.
Olivia A., 14, agrees. “When we minister to others, we feel the Savior’s love and they do, too.”
“When we went to the temple and did baptisms for the dead, we did something for them that they can’t do for themselves,” says Stephanie S., 18. “The AP Project let us do something like that for Abby, something she couldn’t do for herself.”
“I never thought about the other side of the veil before as much as I did when we did our service for Abby,” says Britten M., 15. “I think we were all more motivated to learn about our ancestors.”
“They need us because they don’t have physical bodies to receive ordinances,” says Emma E., 16, “Helping them is part of gathering Israel, another thing President Nelson said to do.”
Abby E.
Olivia A.
Stephanie S.
When a year had passed and the annual Young Women in Excellence night arrived again, the Prices came, eager to support the young women. Then, as each young woman summarized her achievements, she also told what she had done on behalf of Abby.
“We were overwhelmed that they had done so much for our daughter,” Sister Price recalls.
“They were filled with love for us, and we were filled with love for them,” says Bishop Price.
Since then, Bishop and Sister Price have read and re-read the words of love and encouragement in Abby’s Personal Progress journal many times.
Not long ago, the young women visited the Prices. They delivered a vase of sunflowers. They laughed, teased each other, and ate brownies. Then the young women went once again to the cemetery, to visit the grave of their friend.
“Someday, we’ll get to meet Abby Price,” Sister Jensen says. “We’ll give her a hug and let her know that we loved ministering to her and her family. It was a blessing to us all.”

One Friday at school, my best friend Dawson wasn’t there. A couple kids said they had seen ambulances at his house, and I started to worry. Later that day, our principal told us that Dawson had been taken to the hospital with a brain bleed.
Dawson and I had become friends when my family first moved from South Carolina, USA. He had been one of the first people to say hi to me. He would find any new kid and make them feel loved.
The night after Dawson was taken to the hospital, as our family prayed for him to get better, I heard a still, small voice say two words: “It’s OK.” As soon as I heard that, I knew Dawson would be OK and that he would live.
But then I started thinking, “What if God meant that it would be OK whether Dawson was here on earth or in heaven?”
My stake held a 24-hour fast for Dawson and his family. Then we got the news that Dawson had passed away.
I had never really had a tough experience before where I felt I needed to pray. But when Dawson died, praying was the only way I could feel any comfort. God helped me feel peace, and I felt that He must have something for Dawson to do.
I know that anytime I’m going through something hard, I can talk to God. It helps me to know that God will always be there for me and people around me. I miss Dawson every day, but I know I will see him again because of Jesus Christ.

I remember as a child looking at my grandmother’s wrinkled cheeks. Lines creased the corners of her eyes, and tiny lines graced her upper lip. I asked her how I could keep from getting wrinkles.
“Don’t smile,” she said. “And don’t cry.”
I followed her advice—for one day. Then I gave up. How could anyone live without smiling or crying? I decided I’d rather have a face that shows the lines of laughter and tears.

“I know the Church is true because when I pray, He answers,” says Nicole, who is 10. “When I ask Him for help, He helps me.”
Nicole tells about a time when her friend got very sick and the doctors decided to fly her to Peru’s capital city, Lima, because they didn’t know how to treat her. “I didn’t want her to go because she was my best friend,” Nicole says. “I asked Heavenly Father to bless her. He heard my prayer, and she was healed.”

It was early in the morning, and I sat in our small apartment trying to study. I had been serving as a missionary in Atlanta, Georgia, for the past six months. The first few months of my mission had been good, but that morning I felt hopeless and discouraged. I had been transferred to a hard area, and we were not teaching many people. We would go from door to door, day after day, but with little success.
As I tried to read my scriptures, my mind wandered. “Why do I have to serve in this area?” “Why is it so hard?” “What are we doing wrong?” There were so many questions going through my mind, but I did not know the answers. I only knew that I was ready to quit.
I sighed and tried to return to my studies, but it was no use. “What’s the point?” I thought. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone to teach in this area anyway.”
In desperation I knelt and began to pray. I had read in the scriptures about crying to God, but I did not really understand what it meant until that moment. I prayed hard and fervently, pouring out my heart. I asked God to help me get through my mission and to help us have success. I asked Him to help me so I would not be discouraged and to give me the strength to go on. I asked Him to help me study, because I knew I could gain something from the passages of scripture I was trying to read.
I closed my prayer and tried to read again. This time the scriptures opened up to me, and I felt intrigued by the story I was reading. It was in Alma 26. I realized the story was about missionary work. Aaron and Ammon were missionaries who had challenges that were more severe than what I was experiencing. They were put in prison, beaten, laughed at, threatened with their lives, and condemned for their beliefs. Their faith was tried also. They did not give up. Instead, they were faithful and strong through all their trials. I then realized that if Ammon and Aaron could endure all their trials, then I could endure mine too.
I read more of the story and saw the blessings that Ammon and Aaron received. They saw thousands of people experience a change of heart, repent, and be baptized. Their trials eventually brought them indescribable joy.
When I finished reading the chapter, I noticed a plaque that hung on the wall above our desk. It read, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). I had never really noticed that plaque until then. Reading the verse left me with a wonderful feeling. Christ was my strength because He knew what I was going through. He suffered all things. He even knew what it was like to be a discouraged, frightened young missionary serving in Georgia.
After I went through the trials, I did see the blessings. We were teaching one woman who was truly prepared to receive the gospel. She told us she wanted to be baptized. I grew to love her as a daughter of God, and when I saw her baptism, I felt the same joy that Aaron and Ammon felt—pure, indescribable joy.
Throughout my mission I saw many others come into the gospel. I saw miracles. I never forgot that scripture: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Whenever I felt discouraged or afraid, I would think about that scripture and remember that Christ was my strength and that He would not leave me alone. I knew that with Christ on my side as my strength, I could do all things.

I enjoyed reading the article about Samuel Chambers. My great-great-grandfather, Preston Thomas, baptized him. I thought you might enjoy reading this excerpt from an account written by Preston’s son Daniel: “Chambers had the greatest faith in the Church and the most profound reverence for the man who baptized him. As illustrating this reverence, I pause to narrate an incident which occurred just prior to the death of Chambers. I came into my office one morning and saw him sitting in the reception room. He was then about 92 years old. On seeing me, he, with no little difficulty, attempted to rise to his feet to shake my hand. I sought to dissuade him from the effort of getting up, but he arose and took me by the hand and said with great earnestness, ‘Your father baptized me, and I always stand in the presence of his son.‘ ”

Disagreeing with my older sister was not unusual for my nine-year-old self. As with most brothers and sisters, our disagreements were more for the challenge of being the winner than for the subject of the argument.
This time, however, it seemed vital to my intellectual esteem that I be right. We were arguing about the clouds in the sky and the earth’s rotation. I had learned in my science class that the earth revolves in constant motion so I just knew that it wasn’t the clouds we saw moving across the sky, it was the earth rotating beneath them.
Since my sister and I couldn’t come to an agreement, we took the problem to our fact source: Mother. “Mom, do the clouds move or do they stay in one position and the earth moves beneath them,” we asked in unison, each anxious for her theory to be the correct one.
To my sister’s delight and my disappointment, mother explained that although the earth is constantly revolving, the clouds moved as the wind blew them across the sky. My understanding of earthly laws was incomplete and I had to alter my thinking process. There was more I needed to learn.
Fifteen years later I see how silly my idea was. I thought I could base all my observations of the physical world on the partial knowledge I had of it and be accurate in those observations. That is, until they were corrected by a more knowledgeable source.

Ten years after Uncle Joe passed away, I was reading through my great-grandmother’s journal. The journal told of her husband leaving her with no money, $30 due in rent, and nine mouths to feed.
Then she wrote: “In Bisbee [Arizona] the people were so good to us. Even when we lived out of town south of Bisbee, they brought us home [from church]. Brother Joseph Kleinman, who lived in Mexico, brought us home many times, and not only that, but [his family] took us all to eat dinner with them. They served fried rabbit with all the trimmings, which we enjoyed very much. They were transferred to Nogales … and they let us have their rabbits, pretty white ones, and we sure had all we could eat then.”

Just two years later, at the close of World War II, Elder Benson was called by President George Albert Smith to go to Europe to reorganize the Church there and to distribute badly needed food, clothing, and medical supplies. President Smith lived near the Benson family and promised to watch over Sister Benson and the children while Elder Benson was away.
Although her health was severely tested during the ten months he was gone, Sister Benson’s steadfastness never wavered. Three months after Elder Benson left, their nineteen-month-old daughter, Beth, became seriously ill with pneumonia. Sister Benson’s constant faith and tireless nursing, accompanied by priesthood blessings, restored Beth to health.

During the summer of 2012, Vili and Josh attended an Aaronic Priesthood camp sponsored by their stake. The twins’ cousin, a young deacon, started teasing one of the older young men, which led to a scuffle. Vili quickly ran over and pulled them apart.
“I didn’t know the whole story,” Vili says. “I had a hardness in my heart. I was so mad.”
He nearly lost his temper and hit the other young man, but one of the adult leaders intervened. Vili recalls, “He said to me, ‘You hold the priesthood. You are an example. What happens if you hit him? You won’t feel the same and the others won’t look at you the same.’”
Vili had been asked to be a leader at the camp, where the theme was missionary preparation. Vili had prayed that the young men in his ward would feel the Spirit and want to serve missions. To help them commit, Vili had encouraged them to sign their names on a banner testifying that they would serve missions. All of them, including Vili, had signed it. Because of his commitment, he knew he had a responsibility to uphold.
“That night I prayed about [how I had reacted to the older young man] for a long time,” he says. “I realized that if I had gotten in a fight, I would have been kicked out of camp, and my life would have gone down from there. I didn’t want that. I repented. The next day, I was side-by-side with that boy—as friends.”

For example, let me give you a brief incident from a family history in Hawaii. It involves sacrifice and temple blessings and true eternal perspective.

In the early 1900s, a young father and his family joined the Church in Hawaii. He was enthused about his new-found religion, and after two years of membership both he and his eldest son held the priesthood. They prospered and enjoyed the fellowship of the little branch. They anxiously looked forward to being sealed as a family for eternity in the temple soon to be completed in Laie.

Then, as so often happens, a test crossed their path. One of their daughters became ill with an unknown disease and was taken away to a strange hospital. People in Hawaii were understandably wary of unknown diseases, as such diseases had wrought so much havoc there.

The concerned family went to church the next Sunday, looking forward to the strength and understanding they would receive from their fellow members. It was a small branch. This young father and his son very often took the responsibility for blessing and passing the sacrament. This was one such Sunday. They reverently broke the bread while the congregation sang the sacrament hymn. When the hymn was finished, the young father began to kneel to offer the sacrament prayer. Suddenly the branch president, realizing who was at the sacred table, sprang to his feet. He pointed his finger and cried, “Stop. You can’t touch the sacrament. Your daughter has an unknown disease. Leave immediately while someone else fixes new sacrament bread. We can’t have you here. Go.”

How would you react? What would you do?

The stunned father slowly stood up. He searchingly looked at the branch president, then at the congregation. Then, sensing the depth of anxiety and embarrassment from all, he motioned to his family and they quietly filed out of the chapel.

Not a word was said as, with faces to the ground, they moved along the dusty trail to their small home. The young son noticed the firmness in his father’s clenched fists and the tenseness of his set jaw. When they entered their home they all sat in a circle, and the father said, “We will be silent until I am ready to speak.” All sorts of thoughts went through the mind of this young boy. He envisioned his father coming up with many novel ways of getting revenge. Would they kill the branch president’s pigs, or burn his house, or join another church? He could hardly wait to see what would happen.

Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes—not a sound. He glanced at his father. His eyes were closed, his mouth was set, his fingers clenched, but no sound. Twenty minutes, twenty-five minutes—still nothing. Then he noticed a slight relaxing of his father’s hands, a small tremor on his father’s lips, then a barely perceptible sob. He looked at his father—tears were trickling down his cheeks from closed eyes. Soon he noticed his mother was crying also, then one child, then another, and soon the whole family.

Finally, the father opened his eyes, cleared his throat, and announced, “I am now ready to speak. Listen carefully.” He slowly turned to his wife and said, meaningfully, “I love you.” Then turning to each child, he told them individually, “I love you. I love all of you and I want us to be together, forever, as a family. And the only way that can be is for all of us to be good members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and be sealed by his holy priesthood in the temple. This is not the branch president’s church. It is the Church of Jesus Christ. We will not let any man or any amount of hurt or embarrassment or pride keep us from being together forever. Next Sunday we will go back to church. We will stay by ourselves until our daughter’s sickness is known, but we will go back.”

This great man had proper eternal perspective.

The daughter’s health problem was resolved; the family did go to the temple when it was completed. The children did remain faithful and were likewise sealed to their own families in the temple as time went on. Today over 100 souls in this family are active members of the Church and call their father, grandfather, and great-grandfather blessed because he kept his eyes on eternity, because he used his priesthood to bless his family, and because he recorded his feelings. How the heart of this father turned to his children, and how his children’s hearts turned to him.

A month or two later, I was up in my bedroom, alone, not particularly troubled or unhappy, but thoughtful. In the top drawer of my desk lay a paperback copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, a parting gift from my former Mormon girlfriend.
Thinking of her, and recalling Jimmy’s presentation and other conversations I’d had with LDS kids, I pulled the book out and began reading. Maybe it would help me understand why they could talk about knowing their church was true.
The opening pages contained Joseph Smith’s story of his first vision, and as I read it, it struck me that this man, or boy, or whoever he was, was telling the truth. While I experienced no blaring trumpets or burning bosoms or bright lights or heavenly messengers, his story was quite simple and plain and logical to me. I set the book down on my desk and felt a surge of quiet confidence, a feeling I now recognize as the Holy Ghost, confirm what I had just read.
Such sudden and sure knowledge startled me because I realized that if Joseph Smith’s story was true, the church he founded must also be true. As I pondered my newly discovered testimony, I knew that I’d have to do something about it, though I wasn’t sure what. I decided that tomorrow I’d give my former girlfriend a call and tell her I knew what she and her friends knew and ask her if she had any ideas what I should do next.
Well, she had plenty of ideas, and the busy weeks of missionary discussions, fasting, and prayer that followed only served to confirm what I had first realized after reading Joseph Smith’s story one spring afternoon in my bedroom: It’s true. I know it!