Gospel Story Finder

Recently while on Church assignment in Hawaii, Sister Wirthlin and I visited the island of Molokai. One of the world’s few remaining leper colonies is found there. We drove into the mountains to a trail that leads to an overlook where the colony can be seen in the distance below. After laboring up the trail, we were disappointed to discover that rain and fog obscured the valley beneath us, and we could not see the colony. As we walked back to our car, we came upon a young man headed toward the overlook. I offered a polite greeting. From his answer, I could tell that he was from Germany.

I served a German-speaking mission in Austria and Switzerland in my youth. Here was a young man whose countenance bespoke a sincere heart and an approachable personality. And I spoke his language and understood his culture. The Spirit prompted me to open my mouth and introduce the gospel to him. However, due to other people being around us, our brief encounter was interrupted, and we went our separate ways without my having said a word about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. I failed to be the missionary that every member of the Savior’s Church ought to be.

As we drove away, I had the disturbing feeling that I had failed in my duty to proclaim the gospel. I remembered the Lord’s words in section 60 of the Doctrine and Covenants:

But with some I am not well pleased, for they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man. Wo unto such, for mine anger is kindled against them. [D&C 60:2]

I was then troubled and ill at ease while we drove around the island to see Molokai’s beautiful waterfalls. After many miles, the road came to a dead end. We got out of our car to enjoy the beautiful surroundings. We had been there only a few moments when another car drove up and stopped. The young man we had seen on the overlook trail got out of his car, smiled, and gave me a warm handshake. As I grasped his outstretched hand, I thought to myself, “This time I will do my duty!”

In a few brief moments we introduced ourselves. I learned that he was a university student in a small city south of Dusseldorf, Germany. We spoke of my experiences in his country, of my fond memories of Germany, and of my admiration for the German people. Speaking of my work in Europe gave me an ideal opportunity to explain some of the basics of the gospel. As we parted, I asked for his address and telephone number, which he gladly shared with me. I felt that he was truly a newly found friend and an interested investigator.

Upon my return to Church headquarters, I promptly wrote to President John F. Charles of the Germany Dusseldorf Mission. I explained how Sister Wirthlin and I had met this outstanding young man and gave him his address. I asked President Charles to immediately send missionaries to continue the gospel discussion that I had begun on a dead-end road on Molokai.

I don’t believe that it was happenstance that my wife and I met this young man twice. Our meetings were not chance encounters or mere coincidence. But the Lord doesn’t always give us a second chance to share the gospel. I failed to follow the Spirit the first time that the still small voice unmistakably spoke to my heart and mind to prod me to action. I didn’t do what I was being directed to do. When I saw that young man get out of his car that second time, I was relieved and said to Sister Wirthlin that I had been given a second chance. I quickly made up my mind that I would not fail a second time and that I would open my mouth as the Lord so emphatically commands in revelations that apply to all of us.

In the spring of 1972, President Spencer W. Kimball, who was serving as the Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, was very ill. Throat cancer had returned, and his heart was threatening to fail due to a clogged artery and a malfunctioning valve. He was seventy-seven years old. The cancer was stopped with cobalt treatments, and his physicians recommended a complex surgical procedure on his heart, with only some chance of success.
In a meeting with his doctors and President Harold B. Lee of the First Presidency, President Kimball said wearily, “I am an old man and ready to die.” He wondered whether, at his age, it made sense to fight so hard to extend his life when, perhaps, his time had come. President Lee arose and said with power, “Spencer, you have been called! You are not to die! You are to do everything you need to do to care for yourself and continue to live.”
Spencer did not give up and die. He was not a man who gave up, no matter how difficult the task.
The surgery was performed and was successful. While he was recovering, President Joseph Fielding Smith passed away. Eighteen months later, President Harold B. Lee also passed away, and Spencer W. Kimball became the twelfth President of the Church. Considering his age and health history, most people expected his administration to be a brief “caretaker” period. But instead, it was a vigorous time of miracles. For the next twelve years, in the words of Elder Neal A. Maxwell, “one often got the feeling that [President Kimball] was always on the next ridge waiting for the Church to catch up. Though he smiled at us and beckoned us, he would like to have seen us move more than just a bit faster.”
He talked about the importance of missionary work and challenged us to “lengthen our stride.” He said, “It seems to me that the Lord chose his words when he said ‘every nation,’ ‘every land,’ ‘uttermost bounds of the earth,’ ‘every tongue,’ ‘every people,’ ‘every soul,’ ‘all the world,’ ‘many lands.’” He urged us to pray that the hearts of leaders of oppressive governments would be softened and that they would allow the missionaries to come into their lands. The number of missionaries doubled, and nearly three million people came into the Church. At the time of his death, 60 percent of the stakes in the Church had been created during his time as President.
He stressed the importance of temple work, and the number of temples rose from fifteen to thirty-seven, with several others announced or under construction.
He discussed the importance of the family as the basic unit of the Church, and a new Sunday meeting schedule was introduced to give families more time together.
A new English hymnbook was published; it became a standard for many language editions that later followed.
He taught the importance of scripture study, and new editions of the standard works with more extensive cross-referencing and a better topical guide were published. Individuals and families were encouraged to study the scriptures. Two revelations were added to the scriptures—the vision of the celestial kingdom given to Joseph Smith (D&C 137) and the vision of the redemption of the dead given to President Joseph F. Smith (D&C 138).
The First Quorum of the Seventy was formally organized and expanded, so that there were more General Authorities to handle the responsibilities of a rapidly growing worldwide church. Men from half a dozen nations were called to that Quorum. All the General Authorities, including President Kimball, traveled extensively, and area conferences were held in many cities on six continents.
But perhaps the most exciting moment occurred in June 1978 when the Lord revealed that the time had come to extend the priesthood to worthy men of all races. (See OD 2.)
Every good teacher knows that one of the best ways to get the attention of students is to whisper. President Kimball whispered, not because he wanted to, but because cancer had taken most of his vocal cords. And he got our attention! We listened raptly to his inspired counsel:
“I find that when I get casual in my relationships with divinity and when it seems that no divine ear is listening and no divine voice is speaking, that I am far, far away. If I immerse myself in the scriptures the distance narrows and spirituality returns.”
“Grow all the food that you possibly can on your own property.”
“We ask you to clean up your homes and your farms. … Make our properties a thing of beauty to behold.”
“Every person should keep a journal and every person can keep a journal.”
“Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.”
“Marriage can be successful as long as selfishness does not enter in.”
“The spectacle of a nation praying is more awe-inspiring, more powerful, than the explosion of an atomic bomb.”
“Security is not born of inexhaustible wealth but of unquenchable faith.”
“I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of the living God and that he was crucified for the sins of the world. He is my friend, my Savior, my Lord, my God.”
Surely the Lord had prepared Spencer W. Kimball for just this time, had known of his unique talents, had seen him grow through many trials, and knew that he was the man who could lead the Church in a time of such growth and excitement.
He was born 28 March 1894 in Salt Lake City, the sixth child of Andrew and Olive Woolley Kimball. When he was three years old, his father was called to be president of the St. Joseph Stake in southeastern Arizona, so the family made the four-day move south.
Spencer thrived in the Gila Valley, but he also learned sorrow. There his mother died when he was just eleven years old. Four of his sisters also died.
The first World War thwarted his hopes for more advanced education, but he served a mission in the central United States and later married Camilla Eyring, who was a school teacher. They had three sons and a daughter. He established his own insurance business, was active in community affairs, and served in Church callings as diverse as music director, stake clerk, and stake president.
One youthful experience tells us much about his personality and abilities. When Spencer was fourteen, he attended a meeting in which the speaker asked how many in the congregation had read the Bible. He felt miserable that he could not raise his hand. He wrote, “That very night at the conclusion of the sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up to my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a coal-oil lamp that was on the little table, and I read the first chapters of Genesis. A year later I closed the Bible, having read every chapter in that big and glorious book.”
He learned to work hard and long on his father’s farm, and he was not one to give up easily. When he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1943, he was shocked, overwhelmed, and humbled. In his first talk as an Apostle at the October 1943 general conference, he testified:
“I remember reading that Jacob wrestled all night, ‘until the breaking of the day,’ for a blessing; and I want to tell you that for eighty-five nights I have gone through that experience, wrestling for a blessing. Eighty-five times, the breaking of the day has found me on my knees praying to the Lord to help me and strengthen me and make me equal to this great responsibility that has come to me.”
The announcement of the June 1978 revelation also illustrates his patience: “We have pleaded long and earnestly in behalf of these, our faithful brethren, spending many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple supplicating the Lord for divine guidance.
“He has heard our prayers, and by revelation has confirmed that the long-promised day has come when every faithful, worthy man in the Church may receive the holy priesthood” (OD 2).
Perhaps Spencer W. Kimball’s patience and tenacity were just the qualities needed to bring about this great blessing from the Lord.
In a speech to a group of servicemen shortly after he had been called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder Kimball expressed his feeling of humility and wonder that such a call could come to him. But then he said, “I don’t know exactly why the Lord has called me, but I have one talent to offer. My father taught me how to work; and if the Lord can use a worker, I’m available.”
He became a legend for his energy, his long working hours, and the way he applied his motto—“Do It”—to himself. But always evident in his life was his great love of people. In fact, he often described himself by saying, “I love people.”
He had a special love for the Lamanites. In his patriarchal blessing he was told, “You will preach the gospel to many people, but more especially to the Lamanites.”
As a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, he was given responsibility for the Indian mission and later for the South American missions. President George Albert Smith gave him a special charge to look after the Indians throughout the world.
Stories abound of his kind acts and thoughtfulness. One snowy day when many airline flights had been canceled, thousands were stranded in a busy airport. A young mother and her two-year-old child waited in line after line trying to buy a ticket. The child was tired and hungry, and the mother was pregnant and could not carry her child. As the child sat whimpering on the floor, the mother moved her along with her foot. As people behind her in the line muttered and criticized, the young mother wanted to cry.
Then a man approached her with a kind smile on his face, “Young lady, it appears to me that you need a little help.” He took the child in his arms, comforted her, and gave her a stick of chewing gum. After he told the other people of the woman’s plight, they agreed to let her go to the front of the line. The man took her to her flight. As she boarded the plane, she thought, “What a wonderful man, and I don’t even know his name.” A few days later, she saw his picture in a newspaper and learned that he was Elder Spencer W. Kimball of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On another occasion, a bishop in South America asked if Elder Kimball could bless a dying man in the hospital between stake conference sessions. They raced to the hospital and ran up the stairs and down the hall. As they entered the room, the bishop recalled, “There was an amazing change. Elder Kimball seemed to have all the time in the world.” They visited unhurriedly, administered to the man, and took their leave. Once out the door, they ran to the car and sped back to the conference.
Many people, sick in the hospital, were blessed and comforted by a much sicker Spencer Kimball during his many hospital stays. He once said, “My life is like my shoes—to be worn out in service.”
He spent a great deal of time counseling those who had become weakened by sin or were struggling with adversity. The sorrow and joy he shared with them inspired his books The Miracle of Forgiveness and Faith Precedes the Miracle, which have, in turn, inspired many more members of the Church.
Had Spencer W. Kimball died at the age of seventy-seven, he would have lived a marvelous life as a missionary, husband, father, businessman, stake clerk, stake president, and, for thirty years, Apostle. His many struggles with poor health, his acts of kindness, his loving wisdom would have stood as a monument to him.
But, at an age when most people retire and take their ease, he was given the greatest challenge a man could have. He accepted a calling he never expected to have and magnified it in such a way that millions of people, living and dead, were blessed.

I can’t remember the exact day I decided to quit BYU. But I do remember definitely deciding to quit. I was in the testing center and had just been handed a departmental test that didn’t resemble in the least the class notes I had spent the previous three days studying. I entered the main room, took my usual seat by the western wall—I call it the wailing wall—and began.
Four hours later I looked down at my half-empty answer sheet and, with a sigh, began randomly filling in the leftover circles.
I then joined the rest of the outpatients in the recovery room, where the computer printout of my mistakes diagnosed my condition as being far from healthy.
Once outside the testing center and in my car, I realized I was not having fun. School and learning were not turning out to be the soul-exhilarating, mind-stimulating, and heart-vibrating experience I was promised in my freshman orientation pamphlets.
“It’s not worth it!” I told my wife that night. “I’m just sick of all of it. I’m quitting.” I thought my wife would be thrilled at the announcement and release me with a vote of thanks. After all, life would be easier for her without having to pay my tuition and books.
Instead, Debi asked, “Did you attend the devotional this week?” I hadn’t because I had spent the time studying for the test I had just bombed. Debi continued, “President Jeffrey Holland gave a whole talk on enduring and not giving up.”
“Great,” I thought. “That’s all I need right now.” But as it turned out, that was all I needed. We got a tape of the talk, and I listened to President Holland’s words:
My concern this morning is that you face some delays and disappointments at this formative time in your life and feel that no one else in the history of mankind has ever had your problems or faced those difficulties. And when some of those challenges come, you will have the temptation common to us all to say, “This task is too hard. The burden is too heavy. The path is too long.” And so you decide to quit, simply to give up. [My how well President Holland understood.] It is simply a truism that nothing very valuable can come without significant sacrifice and effort and patience on our part. … My plea is to stick with it, to persevere, to hang in and hang on, … I am asking you this morning not to give up “for ye are laying the foundation of a great work.” That “great work” is you.
President Holland then went on to tell about how our forefathers persevered, about Brigham Young, who on July 28, 1847, planted his cane in the Salt Lake soil and declared, “Here [we will build] the Temple of our God.” President Holland then told of the 40 years it took to complete that project. I had no idea that the foundation alone took over 9,000 man-days of labor to finish, only to be filled entirely back in when Johnston’s army came. After that threat was over, the Saints had to begin digging all over again.
The task of precisely cutting the granite stones out of the mountain and hauling them one at a time to Salt Lake was so arduous that it took three more years just to finish the first layer of stones around the foundation. When Brigham Young died in 1877, the temple stood only 20 feet high. More work was followed by more government persecution and intervention until finally, on April 6, 1893, the temple of God was complete. It was a grand, awe-inspiring structure. President Holland concluded by saying, “Know ye not that ye are the Temple of God?” (“However Long and Hard the Road,” BYU devotional talk delivered 18 Jan. 1983).
That was the perspective I needed. “Dear President Holland,” I wrote in a thank-you note, “You’ll never know what your talk did for me. Yesterday I felt like my foundation had been filled in and forgotten. Today, I started digging it out again. I will see you at graduation.”
I recount this experience because, as you enter a world of stress, I foresee times of discouragement—times when you also might find yourself tempted to say, “It’s not worth it. I quit!” That’s when I hope you will remember President Holland’s words: “Nothing valuable can come without sacrifice, effort, and patience.” And most certainly, education is valuable.

Two days ago we attended a funeral here in our community of an 18-month-old baby boy who was ran over by a car and killed. The bishop shared what he felt was the most important lesson we could learn form this devastating moment. When the driver who ran over this little baby realized what had happened, he got out of the car, and with great sadness and sorrow, went over with some depredations to express his deepest apology to the father for his carelessness. This young father said he was compelled to give him a hug and tell him "I forgive you" and never hesitated to do just that.

Something we have heard the Prince of Peace had once said when he was on the cross at Golgotha, crucified for our sins: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."

“My brother drove an ox team for a widow and her little girl. The little girl was very sweet and amiable, the mother rather peculiar. He said that she would ask more questions in a day than ten men could answer in a week. He was a born joker and could no more avoid joking than he could avoid breathing. He could never tell her anything so absurd or ridiculous that she would not believe it. He got so tired of her questions, such as ‘Riley, I wonder how far we have traveled today?’ and ‘I wonder how far we will travel tomorrow?’ ‘I wonder if we will get to water?’ ‘I wonder if we will see any Indians?’ and ‘I wonder what they will do?’ ‘Will they be friendly or savage?’ Her wondering got so monotonous he could hardly endure it.
“At last he had his revenge when we came in sight of Chimney Rock. Anybody who has crossed the plains either by wagon or train will remember seeing this—a land mark—it is very tall and shaped something like a smokestack and probably centuries old. At the rate we traveled it could be seen several days before we reached it. When she began her speculations about the rock, he told her in a most confidential way that as soon as we got to it, he was going to push it down, that he was sick and tired of hearing so much about Chimney Rock, that it had stood there long enough anyway. As soon as he got his hands on it, over it would go. Well, she begged and implored him to let it stand that other emigrants might see it who came after us, but he was obdurate. She then threatened him by saying that she was going to tell Brigham Young, when she got to the Salt Lake Valley. That was always her last resort. Well, he kept her very anxious for two days until we were less than about one kilometer from it. He then yielded to her pleadings and said he would let it stand. She was so delighted that she gave him an extra good dinner and supper that day.”

David M., 18, Western Kasai, Democratic Republic of the Congo
My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago. I didn’t like watching her in pain, and I wished that I could do something. And although my mother got better, it was a hard experience. Your mother is in a place where she won’t feel pain or suffering. It’s hard not to see her anymore, but you are never alone. She will always love you, and our Heavenly Father will always be there to lift you up when you are low. You will never be abandoned. Jesus Christ suffered the pains of the world; He knows how you feel and what you are going through. Do as I did in my time of trial: go to Him and He will make your burdens light.

One afternoon Milo’s father came home early. “We are going to Copenhagen, Denmark, for a few days,” he said. “Hurry and pack.”
“Oh,” said Milo excitedly, “will we go to Odense?”
“Odense,” said his father, lifting his eyebrows and looking at Mother, “now why should we go there?”
“That’s where Hans Christian Andersen lived as a boy,” Milo answered.
“You’re right,” said his mother, and Father promised he would arrange for them to visit Odense.
When Father finished his work in Copenhagen, the family took a little boat to the island of Fyn to visit Odense.
On the way, Father asked, “Milo, how many of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales can you remember? And which one is your favorite?”
Milo did not have to think long to decide. “I’ll always remember ‘The Ugly Duckling.’”
“One of my favorites,” said Mother, “is ‘The Princess and the Pea.’”
“I’ll never forget ‘The Emperor’s Clothes,’” Father added. “What rascals those men were to deceive the emperor.”
“Oh, yes,” said Mother, “and do you remember ‘What Father Does Is Always Right’?”
The joy of the remembered reading warmed their hearts as they looked at the statue of Hans Christian Andersen and walked about Odense.
“His father was a poor shoemaker, you know,” said Milo’s father, “but he read stories and plays of another Dane, Ludwig Holberg, to Hans.”
Mother added, “And he made a puppet theater so Hans could act out the plays.”
“Time to leave now,” said Father at last, but Milo lingered one more moment to look into the face of the famous storyteller.
The last stop Father had to make was in Sweden. It was Midsummer’s Eve when Milo’s family arrived in the capital city of Stockholm. Everyone was in a holiday mood. People in gay costumes had gathered for the early festival.
“Why do they celebrate Midsummer’s Eve?” Milo asked Father.
“The people in Sweden celebrate the return of summer to their land about the middle of June each year,” Father replied.
Groups of young people were talking, laughing, and dancing. Their gay costumes were bright in the sunshine. Several boys invited Milo to join in their celebrating. He looked at Father who nodded and said, “That sounds fun, but don’t stay too long.”
“Meet us back at the inn for dinner,” called Mother.
Near the center of the green where groups were dancing there was a large pole with colored streamers hanging down from the top. The word Majstang (Maypole) was posted on a nearby tree. Soon all the dancers gathered around the pole to sing folk songs. It was a colorful sight and everyone was so happy that Milo could not help joining in with them even though he did not know many of the words.
After awhile everyone broke into small groups again and began winding the pole. In and out, over and under, went the colorful ribbons as the dancers swayed and dipped and danced to the singing.
Milo was sorry when it was over. Then he noticed how low the sun was and remembered he was to meet his parents at the inn for smorgasbord.
The smorgasbord was quite different from any Milo had eaten at home. The tables were piled high with smoked and pickled fish, tongue, sweetmeats, spiced fruits, relishes, cheeses, and various kinds of soda water.
“After dinner we’ll have to watch some of the young people start up the mountain. They climb to the top every year to welcome the sunrise,” Father explained.
Milo wished he could go with them but the family was leaving early the next morning to go home.
It had been an especially happy day for Milo. When his father and mother came in to say good-night to him, Milo tried to tell them about all the understandings he had gathered in the different countries they had visited.
“But now,” he said wistfully, “I guess all that will end when we go back home.”
“Oh no, Milo,” Father assured him. “As long as you have a sense of discovery and a desire to know more about other people, there will always be something to learn.”
Mother agreed. And then she added, “No matter where we live we can collect bits of knowledge and add to our understanding.”
Milo lay in bed thinking about the many things he had learned in the different Scandinavian countries. He would never forget his wonderful friends there.

On my family’s ranch in Idaho, we have about 40 horses. We break some of our horses to ride, but most of them we use to raise colts to sell. I learned many things from working with those horses, but I never expected to learn something about the gospel from them.
On our ranch is a 60-acre hill that doesn’t receive much water. In early summer, we put the horses on this hill to eat the grass that grows after the spring rain. One summer, there was a severe drought in our valley, and our horses had picked the hill clean of all its grass. My dad decided it was time to move the horses down to the meadow, which was covered in lush green grass.
Under the direction of my father, I opened the gate to allow the horses into the new pasture. A few of the horses immediately ran through the gate and began to eat the untouched grass, but the rest of the horses stayed on the barren hill. I tried to herd them through the gate by chasing them, but they wouldn’t go. Then I broke a bale of hay in front of the gate to lure them through, but that didn’t work either. The horses seemed content to eat the few blades of grass on the hill instead of coming through the gate.
My dad asked me to drive his truck up the hill and herd the horses through the gate while he did some work on the irrigation ditches. I was excited because my dad didn’t give me permission to drive his truck very often. But my excitement turned to disappointment. Whenever I would get the horses headed in the right direction, one old mare would take off in the wrong direction, leading the herd away from the gate.
I drove the truck faster than before, trying to herd those stubborn horses off the hill. With all my yelling, the horn honking, and a cloud of dust rising up from the hill, my dad came over from the ditches to see what was going on. I was hot and frustrated, and explained to him that I couldn’t get the horses through the gate. We both tried to herd them through with no success. Finally, we decided to leave them, hoping they’d come through the gate on their own, sooner or later.
As I walked back to the truck, feeling frustrated, I thought, “I bet this is how God feels with us sometimes.” As I pondered that, the gospel really came alive to me. I realized that sometimes we become content with the things of this life and we forget that our real destination is a “greener pasture” in God’s kingdom. When we’re headed in the right direction, Satan, like the old mare, tries to tempt us away from the path. Jesus Christ is our gate to greener pastures. He is the only way we can return to our Heavenly Father and have everlasting life (see Mosiah 3:17).

My father was very fond of reading the Bible. He wasn’t a Catholic, but my mother was. She took us to the Catholic church from the time we were small. Then, in 1956, when I was twelve, the LDS missionaries came to our home. They were not only competent but very inspired in getting my mother and us children involved. Each time they came, they read something to us from the scriptures—almost always from the Book of Mormon—and the next time they came, they asked us to report on what they had told us and on what we had read. The three of us children still at home were baptized with my father and mother six months later.

“A door was opened for me, and I will return,” wrote Jan Bishop at the bottom of her contest letter. And she did return to Czechoslovakia, not once, but twice.
Jan made the first of her three trips to the eastern European country back in 1971 as a member of her Montclair, New Jersey, high school choir. The choir toured and sang concerts in Prague, Bratislava, and other cities and villages in Czechoslovakia.
Shortly after her return to the United States, Jan learned about a letter-writing contest being sponsored for the students who had participated in the tour. First prize was a free return trip to Czechoslovakia as an “Ambassador for Friendship.” She entered the competition and won.
During her second visit Jan stayed in Prague with the family of a young man with whom she had been corresponding.
“This time, instead of being a tourist living in hotels, I was able to participate in Czech family life,” said Jan. “The family I stayed with had two children and lived, as many Czech families do, in a large apartment complex. Their apartment contained three rooms for living, dining, and sleeping, plus a small kitchen and bathroom. Both parents worked in fairly prominent government and business positions and lived very well by Czech standards.
This second trip awakened in Jan an interest in Slavic culture, particularly music. And so it was no great shock to her family and friends when Jan made plans last year as a European studies major at BYU to return to Prague once again to research an independent project on Czech music.
After many days of burrowing in libraries and museums and many evenings at concert halls, Jan returned with more than enough material to compile a report. The young man of the family she had stayed with immigrated to the United States, and Jan was able to help him establish himself here.
“As a result of my travels,” said Jan, “I’ve become acquainted with the Slavic people and their culture. I feel a special love for them and a renewed love and deeper appreciation for my own country.”

Mountain Born The newborn black lamb was still, stiff, and cold, but with the old shepherd’s special touch and Mother’s loving care, Biddy was soon a spirited pet for Peter. But she was more than that. One time, for example, Biddy appeared at the farmhouse door, her side dripping blood. She led Peter, his father, and the old shepherd back to the flock in the mountains so that they could save it from the wolves that had attacked her.Elizabeth Yates8–11 years

Today, as Elder Zack Clark is serving faithfully in Kirkcaldy, on the east coast of Scotland facing the North Sea, his personal symphony continues. Elder Clark and his companion, Elder Stoddard, just taught a husband and wife who both chose to be baptized. “If you want to hear music in your soul,” Elder Clark says, “just share the gospel. Watch someone embrace it, and as they learn and grow, the melody in your own heart will be sweet.”

The airport had been packed for hours. The usually crowded holiday-travel conditions were exacerbated by weather-related delays and cancellations at other airports. The situation had sent hundreds of frustrated travelers scrambling from one gate to another, as they sought alternate ways to reach their destinations. At one gate, the line to talk to the agent stretched for more than 50 yards. One of the passengers in the line was a well-dressed and obviously impatient man. As he glanced at his watch with ever increasing frequency and tapped his foot at an ever increasing rate, it was obvious to all around him that he was not a person who was accustomed to waiting. Finally, the man could stand it no longer. He bolted from his place in line and stomped up to the gate. Pounding his hand on the desk, he bellowed: "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" An awkward silence instantly gripped the area.
The agent at the desk calmly picked up her telephone and, in a steady voice, said, "We may need a little additional help at Gate 19. There's a man down here who doesn't know who he is."

by Liisa Berg
Tucked away in a small cove in the ultra-modern Crown Colony of Hong Kong sits a tiny village that seems to be a throwback from old China. The community, called Rennie’s Mill, came into existence 40 years ago when refugees from mainland China fled there to avoid the Cultural Revolution. LDS missionaries soon arrived to teach, and the first chapel in Southeast Asia was built there. But over the years, members left, and the branch has dwindled to just a few.
The Young Women of the Hong Kong, Victoria Ward, were recently asked to return to visit with the residents and participate in a sacrament service in the chapel that sits on a hillside at the top of a path that climbs nearly 200 steps.
It took over two hours to get there, via subway, bus, and ferry, but the girls agreed it was well worth the travel. They sang, gave talks, and played the flute for the members, then chatted with the mothers and children of the village and gave them “testimony dolls” that had been made by friends in Utah.
On the way home, they were reminded of the scripture “Know ye not that there are more nations than one? Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea; and that I … bring forth my word unto the children of men, yea, even upon all the nations of the earth?” (2 Ne. 29:7).

When I was a young man, before I was even ordained a deacon, I went to one of our ward meetings, and two missionaries reported their missions in the Southern States. When I left that meeting, I felt like I could have walked to any mission field in the world, if I just had a call.
And I went home, went into my bedroom, and got down on my knees, and I asked the Lord to help me to live worthy so that when I was old enough I could go on a mission. And when the train finally left the station in Salt Lake and I was headed for the land of Holland, the last thing I said to my loved ones was, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

Spiritual healing is illustrated in the story of Warren M. Johnson, pioneer ferryman at Lee’s Ferry, Arizona. As a young man, Warren Johnson came west seeking his fortune in gold in the summer of 1866. He became very ill, and his companions left him under a tree in the yard of a family in Bountiful, Utah. One of the daughters found him and reported there was a dead man out in the yard. Although he was a complete stranger, this kind family took him in and nursed him back to health. They taught him the gospel and he was baptized. He eventually ended up as the ferryman at Lee’s Ferry.
In 1891 the Warren Johnson family suffered a great tragedy. Within a period of a short time, they lost four children to diphtheria. All four were buried in a row next to each other. In a letter to President Wilford Woodruff, dated July 29, 1891, Warren told the story:
“Dear Brother,
“In May 1891 a family residing in Tuba City, came here from Richfield Utah, where they had spent the winter visiting friends. At Panguitch they buried a child, and without disinfecting the wagon or themselves, not even stopping to wash the dead child’s clothes, they came to our house, and remained overnight, mingling with my little children. …
“We knew nothing of the nature of the disease, but had faith in God, as we were here on a very hard mission, and had tried as hard as we knew how to obey the Word of Wisdom, and attend to the other duties of our religion, such as paying tithing, family prayers etc. etc., that our children would be spared. But alas, in 4 1/2 days [the oldest boy] choked to death in my arms. Two more were taken down with the disease and we fasted and prayed as much as we thought it wisdom, as we had many duties to perform here. We fasted some 24 hours and once I fasted 40 hours, but all of no avail for both my little girls died also. About a week after their death my fifteen year old daughter Melinda was stricken down and we did all we could for her but she followed the others, and three of my dear girls and one boy [have] been taken from us, and the end is not yet. My oldest girl 19 years old is now prostrate with the disease, and we are fasting and praying in her behalf. … What have we done that the Lord has left us, and what can we do to gain his favor again[?]
“Yours in the gospel
“Warren M. Johnson”
In a subsequent letter to his friend Warren Foote, Brother Johnson testified that he had found a spiritual peace:
“I can assure you however, that it is the hardest [trial] of my life, but I set out for salvation, and am determined through the help of my Heavenly Father to hold fast to the iron rod, no matter what trials may come upon me. I have not yet slackened in the performance of my duties, and hope and trust that I shall have the faith and prayers of my brethren that I may live so as to receive the blessings, you having authority, have placed on my head.”
The seventh article of faith states that, among other spiritual gifts, we believe in the gift of healing. I believe this gift extends to healing of both the body and the spirit. The Spirit speaks peace to the soul. This spiritual solace comes by invoking spiritual gifts, which are claimed and manifested in many ways. They are rich, full, and abundant in the Church today. They flow from the humble and proper use of a testimony. They also come through administering to the sick following an anointing with consecrated oil. Christ is the Great Physician, who rose from the dead “with healing in his wings,” while the Comforter is the agent of healing.

Once I prayed and prayed for a nice school teacher for the new year. After many months of praying, I was put in my new class, and my new teacher is so nice and happy and teaches with love. I said a thank-you prayer to Heavenly Father for answering my prayers and for taking care of me and my worries. I am so happy that we can pray to Heavenly Father about anything, anywhere, and He’ll help us.
Ava C., age 7, Utah, USA

Let me share with you one of my favorite and true love stories. I happened into the story very late in its development. One night I went with my husband to a company dinner party. I sat next to an older man who was there with his wife. She had suffered a stroke, so consequently he would lean over to cut her meat and help her with her food. His manner was tender and very solicitous. As he finished the meal he turned toward me with a sigh. I said to him, “You are so good to your wife.”

His reply, “Why shouldn’t I be? I love her.”

Then he told me about how they met and about their courtship and their life together. “The first time I saw her,” he said, “was at a party in Canada. She was giving a reading. She had long golden curls and wore a beautiful white eyelet dress with a pretty blue satin sash. I was so taken by her that I told my mother that that was the woman I was going to marry. Mother laughingly indulged me. I went on my mission, and when I came home she was engaged to another. I was asked to take a special assignment by the bishop, and when I protested he told me that if I would always put the work of the Lord first I would find that the Lord would always take care of me. I made the long trek to Salt Lake City. When I came home, she had broken her engagement. We started to date, and then we married.”

His wife rarely accompanied him in public after that dinner. It wasn’t long until her condition worsened, and she was completely bedridden and virtually unable to speak. He was a General Authority and went out on his regular conference assignments to visit and counsel the Saints. It was his practice to come home and tell her all about the conference. One day as he finished, he teased, “If you are not going to speak back to me, then I am not going to tell about my experiences. You must not love me anymore.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and with great effort she rallied enough strength to form the words, “I do love you.” It was laborious and extremely slow, but with great effort she got the words out. He determined he would never again treat their love lightly, for the love they knew transcended even the crippling hindrance of her physical impairment.

At the funeral of this special woman, Zina Card Brown, every speaker commented on her love both for her sweetheart, President Hugh B. Brown, and for others. Elder Marvin J. Ashton declared, “Some of us are where we are because of her.” President Marion G. Romney said, “Wherever she was she was a loving lady.” President N. Eldon Tanner declared that President Brown was so successful because of her love. President Kimball said that the love of President and Sister Brown was such that they would soon be together again everlastingly. Her love pulled them toward immortality—a beginning of eternity.

I consider June 2, 1940, to be a very important day in the history of my family. On this day my father was baptized into this Church.
Writing to his father, Elder Jack McDonald, one of the missionaries who baptized my father, described the day with these words:
“Last Sunday was an especially beautiful day. We missionaries went out to a secluded spot on the river’s edge, out in the country, and there Elder Jones and I [Elder McDonald] made our first baptism. Antony Aidukaitis entered into the icy waters and became a member of the Church. … Everything was perfect. The sky so blue, the countryside so still, so green, so lovely that none of us could help feeling the presence of some great influence.
“[As we walked] with our new member, he said that he just couldn’t explain how wonderful this day had been for him, how he actually felt like a new man. … That was our first baptism—no credit to me or anybody. He converted himself.”
This event changed the history of my life. I am not sure my father was able to foresee the wisdom of his act, but I love him for what he did that day. He passed away more than 30 years ago, but I will honor and bless his name forever.
I admire the courage my father had to be baptized into the Church in spite of the circumstances he faced at the time. It was not easy for him. His wife did not get baptized with him. The vices of drinking alcohol and smoking were strong temptations for him. He was poor. His mother was against his joining the Church, and she told him that if he were baptized, she would no longer consider him her son. With fewer than 300 members in Brazil, the Church did not have a single chapel there. I am truly astonished by my father’s determination and courage.
How could he make such a decision in the face of so many unfavorable circumstances? The answer is simple: it was because my father read the Book of Mormon. When he read it, he came to know of the truthfulness of the message of the Restoration. The Book of Mormon is a proof that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. Preach My Gospel teaches that “the Book of Mormon, combined with the Spirit, is [the] most powerful resource in conversion” ([2004], 104).

Now, an example from My Parents’ Life
My own parents are amazing life examples of trusting the Lord and are currently serving a mission at the Heber Valley Youth Camp in Utah. My father is the greatest priesthood leader I have ever known. He relates the following about how the spirit helped him embrace unexpected change in his life through inspiration from heaven…

“Five days after I graduated from high school, I started basic training with the U.S. Army. After basic training, I was transferred to the Mojave Desert in California. I was being trained to be a tank commander. On one occasion we were doing a night drill in our tanks in total darkness. Most of the tank commanders were positioned with their bodies part way up out of the tanks to facilitate clear vision of their surroundings. We traveled with our main gun to the front, projecting about ten feet out in front of the tank. As we were moving along in total darkness, I felt the impression to tell the tank driver below to stop immediately. He instantly stopped the tank and when the dust cleared, my main gun was six inches behind the head of the tank commander in the tank in front of us. If the Spirit had not prompted me to stop the tank, my gun would have most assuredly taken his head off. I felt then, a clear message from the Spirit that my chosen path in life was going to be different than what I had planned. Shortly after this experience I received word that my father back home on the farm in Idaho had been in a serious accident where he lost all his fingers and thumb on his right hand to a corn chopper. With family hardship leave issued, 24 hours later I was back home taking care of the farm, and shortly thereafter I was honorably released from the military. Looking back now 60 years later, my life has not only been different than what I had planned, but it has been far better than I could have ever imagined.” [7]

In a dramatic way, the Lord altered my father’s chosen path to allow him to accomplish many different things than he had originally planned. 60 years later, he can see how the Lord put him precisely where he needed to be to find the right spouse and raise his children in the right place. My father and mother are the parents of 14 children, all sealed in the temple to their spouses, with 69 grandchildren and 27 great-grandchildren. Had the Lord not intervened, my father’s life most certainly would not have allowed him to meet my mother nor led him to his profession in building, which in turn affected me and now this campus today where we are all engaged in the work of building buildings, relationships, and each other.