Gospel Story Finder

After translating the Book of Mormon, the Lord commanded Joseph to revise the Bible.
As he read the Bible, Joseph was inspired by the Lord to make some changes.
Joseph asked scribes to help him.
The work was delayed when the Lord commanded the Saints to move to Ohio.
After moving to Ohio, Joseph started his revisions again with Sidney Rigdon helping as scribe.
“We need to resume our work on the Bible.”
On February 16, 1832, Joseph and Sidney were revising the book of John in the New Testament.
“… they who have done good, in the resurrection of the just; and they who have done evil, in the resurrection of the unjust.”
“What does this mean?”
An incredible vision opened up to them.
They saw Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.
They also learned that there are three kingdoms in heaven.
They were shown that those who will inherit the celestial kingdom will be resurrected first.
“These are they who are … made perfect through Jesus.”
When the vision was over, they were amazed. Sidney was tired.
“Sidney is not as used to this as I am.”
President Wilford Woodruff said that this vision “gives more light, more truth, and more principle than any revelation contained in any other book we ever read.”
Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Wilford Woodruff (2004), 120–21.

I received a letter from a missionary in California. He was there with his wife and he wrote this: “There have been so many Mormon boys here in uniform, and they have been such fine, outstanding young fellows that they have turned the attitude of the people of this town toward the Mormon Church.”
Now you see they were uncommon boys. Then he told this specific story. He said that one of the women’s clubs was putting on a luncheon at the hotel. The lady in charge had an extra plate placed at the table, and she said, “When the next soldier comes along, we will invite him to occupy this place at the table.” Well, he happened to be a Mormon boy and he didn’t hide his light under a bushel. Like Jesus said, we should let our light so shine that the world, seeing our good works, will glorify our Father in Heaven. (See Matt. 5:16.)
When they passed the coffee around, he didn’t touch the coffee. You see how easy it would have been for the boy to say, “Oh, shucks, Mother isn’t here. Father isn’t here. My bishop isn’t here. I am the only man with all of these women. A little cup of coffee won’t hurt me.”
But he had to show forth the praises of the Lord who had called him out of darkness into the marvelous light, and he wouldn’t touch it. They offered to get him tea and he didn’t want that. Then they wanted to know all about him. That opened the door so he could tell them about how he was raised. And then when they were through eating, they lighted their cigarettes and passed them around. Of course, the young soldier refused. Well, anyway, right there one of those women decided, “If the Mormon elders ever call at my home, I will let them in. I want to know more about a people who can raise a boy like that boy who sat at our table today.” When the missionary wrote me about this lady, she was a very earnest investigator.

One of my ancestors, Isaac Bartlett Nash, joined the Church in Wales and crossed the Atlantic and the plains before joining the Saints in Salt Lake City. After his arrival he heard one of the presiding elders of the Church denounce the use of tobacco in these words: “There are Elders in this assembly who now have tobacco in their mouths, though even a hog would not chew the vile weed.” Isaac, with a chew of tobacco in his mouth, quietly slipped it out, dropped it to the ground, and said to the tobacco, “Now stay there until I come for you.” He never did.3

My brethren and sisters, last Sunday as I sat in my study thinking of what I might say on this occasion, I received a phone call telling me that Staff Sergeant James W. Cawley of the U.S. Marines had been killed somewhere in Iraq. He was 41 years of age, leaving behind a wife and two small children.
Twenty years ago Elder Cawley was a missionary of the Church in Japan. Like so many others, he had grown up in the Church, had played as a schoolboy, had passed the sacrament as a deacon, and had been found worthy to serve a mission, to teach the gospel of peace to the people of Japan. He returned home, served in the Marines, married, became a policeman, and was then recalled to active military duty, to which he responded without hesitation.
His life, his mission, his military service, his death seem to represent the contradictions of the peace of the gospel and the tides of war.
And so I venture to say something about the war and the gospel we teach.

We gave a chair to a woman in South Africa who had not gotten one on a previous trip. She said to me, “I’ve prayed every day for two years that God would send you back with a chair, and here you are.”
When you give people these chairs, they grab your hand, they cry, they thank you, they very often say a prayer. And they always smile.
Most of us think of a wheelchair as a confinement, but to millions of people it is not confinement, it is freedom—freedom to move, to go to school, to get a job. A chair is hope, self-reliance, independence. Most important, it is dignity.

Families are the backbone of the Church. They also are important in “Project Hope.” Lynn Curtis of Torrance, California, originated the idea of doing a benefit project for Orthopedic Hospital of Los Angeles, California, when he was studentbody president of Torrance High four years ago. Younger brother Dean has come along to be studentbody president too and has spearheaded the project, which recently netted $15,000. More than 100,000 people attended the super-festival. The entire Torrance High campus was turned into model regional sections of the United States. The state flags were on display, and special features of the areas were erected in miniature, such as a Coney Island hot dog stand, a hula hut, a lighthouse, and a huge mountain range for the Rockies. The carnival drew students together in a great cause, and the townspeople are glad there are Mormon boys to stir up involvement.

When President Thomas S. Monson asked those new members of the Seventy and the Young Women general presidency to come up and take their places on the stand, I remembered vividly April 1970, when I was called to be an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve—which was a surprise to me. I’d only known about it for just a few hours. As I was invited to sit in one of the red chairs in the old Tabernacle, the choir started to sing “O Divine Redeemer.” As I listened to that pleading song with that wonderful melody, I silently asked the Savior to accept me as I am and remember not my failures, my shortcomings, and my sins (see Ps. 25:7). What a wonderful day that was! That flashed through my mind as President Monson made that invitation today.

“In the Celestial Room, I felt an assurance that I will be healed,” Domingo Servito who faced a fatal health condition testified.
He miraculously survived an eight-hour, high-risk major operation after the Open House, and a few weeks later he was able to attend the Dedication, and celebrated his 68th birthday the day after the Dedication. He bears witness that, “when you feel the assurance of the Spirit, it will truly happen.”

Before he was an apostle, Elder John A. Widtsoe worked for years to develop a general law related to some soil moisture studies that he had done.

One day, he concluded that the task was impossible. He decided to put this work away forever and to move on to another field of inquiry. He then went home and, in order to console himself, took his wife to the temple. It was there in the temple that day that the solution came to him. [25]

Life has some strange turns. I will share some personal experiences that illustrate this.
When I was a young man I thought I would serve a mission. I graduated from high school in June 1950. Thousands of miles away, one week after that high school graduation, a North Korean army crossed the 38th parallel, and our country was at war. I was 17 years old, but as a member of the Utah National Guard, I was soon under orders to prepare for mobilization and active service. Suddenly, for me and for many other young men of my generation, the full-time mission we had planned or hoped for was not to be.
Another example: After I served as president of Brigham Young University for nine years, I was released. A few months later the governor of the state of Utah appointed me to a 10-year term on the supreme court of the state. I was then 48 years old. My wife June and I tried to plan the rest of our lives. We wanted to serve the full-time mission neither of us had been privileged to serve. We planned that I would serve 20 years on the state supreme court. Then, at the end of two 10-year terms, when I would be nearly 69 years old, I would retire from the supreme court and we would submit our missionary papers and serve a mission as a couple.
I had my 69th birthday two years ago and was vividly reminded of that important plan. If things had gone as we planned, I would have submitted papers to serve a mission with my wife June.
Four years after we made that plan I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—something we never dreamed would happen. Realizing then that the Lord had different plans and different timing than we had assumed, I resigned as a justice of the supreme court. But this was not the end of the important differences. When I was 66, my wife June died of cancer. Two years later I married Kristen McMain, the eternal companion who now stands at my side.
How fundamentally different my life is than I had sought to plan! My professional life has changed. My personal life has changed. But the commitment I made to the Lord—to put Him first in my life and to be ready for whatever He would have me do—has carried me through these changes of eternal importance.
Faith and trust in the Lord give us the strength to accept and persist, whatever happens in our lives. I did not know why I received a “no” answer to my prayers for the recovery of my wife of many years, but the Lord gave me a witness that this was His will, and He gave me the strength to accept it. Two years after her death, I met the wonderful woman who is now my wife for eternity. And I know that this also was the will of the Lord.
I return to the subject with which I began. Do not rely on planning every event of your life—even every important event. Stand ready to accept the Lord’s planning and the agency of others in matters that inevitably affect you. Plan, of course, but fix your planning on personal commitments that will carry you through no matter what happens. Anchor your life to eternal principles, and act upon those principles whatever the circumstances and whatever the actions of others. Then you can await the Lord’s timing and be sure of the outcome in eternity.
The most important principle of timing is to take the long view. Mortality is just a small slice of eternity, but how we conduct ourselves here—what we become by our actions and desires, confirmed by our covenants and the ordinances administered to us by proper authority—will shape our destiny for all eternity. As the prophet Amulek taught, “This life is the time for men to prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32). That reality should help us take the long view—the timing of eternity.
I pray that each of us will hear and heed the word of the Lord on how to conduct ourselves in mortality and set our standards and make our commitments so that we can be in harmony and in tune with the timing of our Father in Heaven.

While I have already spoken about gratitude, I would like to share a personal story of which I am eternally grateful that provided an opportunity for growth in my own life and is for me an overwhelming testimony of God’s presence in each of our lives.

In 2004 my home ward planned to participate in a pioneer trek. At that time I was serving in the Relief Society. I had not been called to go, nor was I expected to go, on the trek. My husband was called as the equipment coordinator of the trek, and our youngest son, age sixteen at the time, was eagerly planning to be a part of the trek experience with the rest of our ward youth.

About six weeks prior to the start of the trek, I received a distinct impression that I needed to go on the trek with the ward. What I need to explain to you is that at that time in my life, I really was not into camping, hiking, getting dirty, or sleeping on the ground with bugs. I think you could safely call me a little spoiled in my nature.

As I am sure you can probably imagine, I brushed off the impression. While I felt that the impression was something I should listen to, my more logical side kept reminding me that this was not something I would enjoy doing, nor would it be a restful or relaxing vacation. There surely would not be a Marriott hotel waiting for me at the end of each day. I felt that I knew what was best for me.

The problem was that the impression did not go away. It kept coming back to me, all the while getting stronger, until I knew I could no longer ignore it. I met with my bishop and asked if I could volunteer to join a trek family and participate alongside my ward members, my husband, and my son.

Those of you who have been on a pioneer trek know of what I speak when I say it was not easy. What I experienced physically was not easy, but what I experienced spiritually taught me and prepared me for some very significant challenges that would be coming into my life in a few short weeks and months.

As I trekked along in the heat and the dirt, lay in my sleeping bag with my legs and feet throbbing at the end of a long day, and sat in the middle of a meadow on a plastic bucket, pouring my heart out in my personal journal, I truly allowed God to speak to me through the Holy Ghost. I was profoundly changed through that experience in ways I could never have been otherwise. It was a refiner’s fire of sorts. Heavenly Father gave me a choice, tender gift. I was humbled, and I was taught—not in ways that I would have preferred, planned, or expected but in ways that God, who knows me and you best, knew I needed to be taught. I didn’t realize I needed this experience in my life, but indeed I did.

What was to come were some very challenging trials, and had I not hearkened to these impressions I had received to participate in the trek, I would not have been spiritually, physically, or emotionally prepared for them. I was surrounded by angels from my ward as well as those not seen. The trek was in fact life changing for me.

That trek was more than twelve years ago, and I often reflect on that journey. I am so grateful for that experience and for the fact that God knew what I needed at that time. I am grateful for the promptings of the Holy Ghost and the impressions I clearly felt, and I am so grateful that I chose not to ignore them but to listen to them, trust them, and rely on the Spirit.

John 14:27 reads: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

I lost my precious mother shortly after the trek to a terrible liver disease, and this particular verse of scripture, along with my experience on the trek, provided tremendous strength when I needed it the most. They have also provided great strength since then throughout various other personal trials.

My father’s patriarchal blessing was brief, and at first he felt it was somewhat generic. However, he later realized the significance of one of the promises. He was told he would play a key role in bringing the gospel to many countries. As a young man he served in the Germany Frankfurt Mission, so he initially thought that promise referred to just two countries: the United States and Germany. But in 1990 he was called to preside over the Austria Vienna Mission. In 1991, Slovenia, Croatia, and Serbia were added to his mission, and in 1992 he brought the first missionaries into Albania. Since then, my parents have served in Salzburg, Austria, the Johannesburg South Africa MTC, and Thailand. As a young man, my dad didn’t know what God had planned for him, but God did—and it was all foretold in his patriarchal blessing.

At school in Ireland, all students are required to take religion class. Even though they go to early-morning seminary, these Latter-day Saint students are not excused from their school religion requirement. But their study of the scriptures has paid off. Louise said, “We have Franciscan friars that visited our school. When they were asking questions, they would point to me and put their fingers to their lips as if to say, ‘Shhh, don’t answer the question.’ They know I can answer it.”

Elaine has the same story. “I always get A’s in religion class. If my teacher asked what a word means, like covenant, I would answer. He knew I would know the answer no matter what he asked.”

Derek Fagan, 17, has excelled both in school and in seminary, and he credits an experience he had just before he received his patriarchal blessing. “We had been talking about patriarchal blessings in seminary. I prayed and asked if I should get my patriarchal blessing. Our stake did not have a patriarch at that time, but three days later, our new patriarch was called. I felt it was my answer. That was the time I decided for myself that the Church was true and I would try harder to do well and choose the right. My patriarchal blessing was amazing. I carry it around with me everywhere. Since early-morning seminary started, everything has been clearer. Even in school, I just learn very quickly now. It’s unusual to do ordinary level subjects for exams and then move up and take the exam at a higher level. The teachers were rather amazed when I moved from ordinary level to higher.”

Derek has also become the first seminary student in Ireland to learn all the scripture mastery scriptures. As an extra challenge, he memorized the First Vision as found in Joseph Smith—History.

Brett and Brandt Crowther were giving up high school in the United States to come to Ireland with their parents while their father served as a mission president. Brett would miss only his senior year, but Brandt would miss three years of high school. Then, by the time his dad’s mission was over, Brandt would be old enough to serve his own mission full-time. “Some of my friends did tease me about going on a five-year mission.”

Brandt remembers the time right before early-morning seminary started just a few months after he arrived in Ireland. “I prayed almost every night of my life, but one night about eight months ago, I prayed with sincerity and asked the Lord what He wanted me to do here. I needed to know in my heart that the Church was true. And I found out that God does live and He loves me. I gained an understanding of what He wanted me to do. And since then, I’ve been happy being here. I’ve loved it. I’m closer to the Savior now.”

Brandt explains some of the things the Lord told him he needed to do. “I needed to read the scriptures every day and to pray every night and keep the commandments. And be enthusiastic. I needed to get in gear. That night the Spirit was with me. I didn’t want to go to bed. I stayed up feeling that feeling. The best way I can explain it was like I wasn’t alone and I knew it.”

Seminary class often helped give direct answers to Farris. “I received a testimony of prayer and of tithing. I was just praying about things that I really needed to find out about. It would click in seminary. I would understand things better. It is so much better when you get an answer. The Spirit tells you it is true. What is that like? It’s calm, and you understand things. You’re not nervous. You know it’s true. You feel it in your heart.”

One unique thing about this seminary class has been how much the students enjoy being together. It seems every weekday morning isn’t enough. They now get together every Saturday night, too.

It all started when Louise’s mother told Brett that Louise’s friends always ask her to go to the pub with them on Saturdays, but she never goes. Brett said, “We can get a group of people and go out and have some fun. We decided to take the whole class, make it a seminary thing. After that, every Saturday night, we’ve been doing it. It’s good fun.”

What do they do? The first week they went to the cinema, but that quickly became too expensive. So they started going to each other’s houses to play games (the Crowthers taught them to play capture-the-flag) or watch videos or just talk and talk and talk. Elaine explains, “We used to have nothing to talk about; now we don’t have enough time to talk. It’s very fun. When I was in Primary, I never used to mix. I’d stay to myself. When I was in school, I never talked to anybody. But my confidence has grown to talk to people more since I started hanging around with the group.”

For Louise, having something else to do on Saturdays has helped her be comfortable in her decision to stay strong in the Church. “It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason for me not to go with my friends from work because they go out every weekend. Sometimes, I used to go along. I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t, but it was just being there. It just didn’t feel good. It wears out your spirit eventually. I got so tired of trying to speak up for myself. When I go with the seminary class, I can just be me. And that’s accepted.”

And most of all, “Saturday nights are fun,” says Pamela. “Usually my friends go out on Saturday night. Their standards are completely different from mine. I prefer and feel much better going to the seminary activity. We have great fun.”

Derek adds, “Early-morning seminary has brought us closer, and we’re better friends. Definitely. Saturday evenings we have activities. It’s not planned by any adults. It’s all arranged by us. I’ve gotten a lot closer to everyone in the class, even Pamela, my sister. Most nights the kids at school would go out and get drunk and break the Word of Wisdom. I wouldn’t even consider that as a choice.”

Most of all, this year of seminary has taught them the meaning of faith. Standing before the class each morning is their teacher, Rosemary Richmond, prepared to help them learn from Church history about the faith of the early prophets and members. Her husband, Brendan, suffers from an extremely rare and damaging lung disorder and is confined to a wheelchair. She has the constant worry about her husband’s care and health, yet she is willing and eager to prepare lessons and have the early-morning seminary class come each day.

Louise said, “Members here are very faithful, especially Rosemary, with all the trials she’s been through. It makes you realize how lucky you are. While in seminary, we read about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the pioneers. Joseph Smith did a marvelous thing. He’s a great man. I love him. The testimony that he had never faltered. Can you imagine living back in those days? Some people say these are the hardest days, but I think then it was so much harder. Now if we were called to Zion, we’d just catch a plane. The pioneers had to walk halfway across America just to practice what they believe. I want that sort of faith because I love the Church.”

Louise is developing that kind of faith. Every day she stands up for her beliefs. But with her small group of valiant seminary friends, she doesn’t have to stand alone. None of them do. They have found a way to strengthen each other. And that has made all the difference.

The young people of a certain ward had worked to earn the large sum of money needed to go on an adventure trip. I had had some acquaintance with their bishop. He called and asked if I would help him get some news publicity so that these young people would be recognized for the fine things they were doing.
I said that I would not help him. He was surprised and asked why. I answered that although it was commendable that the young people had worked hard to earn this money, some things are interesting while other things are important, and that there might be a higher purpose for the funds they had obtained.
I explained that my ministry takes me into countries where the people are less privileged than where he lives. I explained that the amount of money these fine young people had earned would keep several missionaries from these areas in the field for their entire missions.
He said, “Are you asking me to have these young people donate their funds to the general missionary fund of the Church?”
I said, “No, I have not asked you to do that. I have just said that there are finer things to do.” I explained that I was not against the kind of project they were planning but that there must be a balance, and, by comparison, some things are interesting while other things are important.
Later the bishop said that he had talked to the young people and that they wanted to sacrifice their adventure trip and donate all the money to the general missionary fund. He asked if they could bring the check and have their picture taken with me as they made the donation and if they could have the picture and an article put into the news.
I said no. Then I said, “You might consider helping your young people learn a higher law of recognition. Let them feel the joy and gain the treasure in their heart and soul that come from silent, selfless service.”

On my third day in the hospital, my neurologist requested an MRV (magnetic resonance venography) of my spinal column and brain, looking for a tumor or blockage. At 4:00 a.m. two days after I woke up blind, I began a five-hour MRV. In preparation, my family planned to pray and fast for me that morning. My father, who slept by my side on a bench each night in my hospital room, gave me another blessing—the second of several blessings I received.

When a hospital technician asked if I wanted to listen to music during my test, I asked for songs from my favorite singer. The tech placed a set of rubber earphones into my ears and pinned my head down with a facial mesh to hold me in place. In the process, he bumped the headphones nearly out of my ears. I could barely hear any music as the MRV began.

The longer the procedure took, the hotter I felt inside the tubular imaging machine. After what seemed like forever, I was told I was doing great and to keep going a little longer. But I felt scared and distraught from the heat, loud sounds, and constraints holding me still.

In silent prayer, I cried out: “Heavenly Father, please comfort me. I’m so alone. I need Thy help. I need my family.”

Immediately, a soft piano chord echoed in my ears. It was from one of my favorite songs—one that my younger sister, Morgan, plays on the piano. I would not have expected to hear it from the loose earphones over the noise of the machine. It seemed like Morgan was with me, and I wasn’t alone. The noise went away. The heat went away. The claustrophobia went away.

I felt out of my body, like I was floating on a sea in space. I felt surrounded by God’s love and by my family’s love. Just like that, I was calm. It was 7:30 a.m., the time my family started fasting for me. The rest of the five-hour MRV passed in an instant, and then I heard, “You’re done.”

The love I felt from that experience left me in tears and eased the weariness I felt during the rest of my stay in the hospital. I didn’t know if my sight would return, but I knew that God was there and had heard my prayer. After four days in the hospital, I was released.

So your first question is “What’s an Iditarod?” Well, it’s a famous sled-dog team race held each year in Alaska. Your next question is “An Iditarod in sunny Arizona?” The answer to this question has more to it.
For the past six years the young men and Scouts from four different stakes in central Arizona have participated in a modified Iditarod race at their annual winter campout in Flagstaff, Arizona. Only instead of dog power, these sleds use Scout power. This past January, 375 young men were divided into teams of about 10. They pulled sleds over and through snow, mud, and dirt to the finish line. Each team built a sled equipped with both skis and wheels to handle any conditions. The course was two-and-a-quarter miles long with 10 activity stations along the way where Scouts competed in activities like archery, log sawing, and target ax throwing. The winning time along with the individual scores in the events determined the winner.
Friday night before the race, camp was set up, dinner prepared and eaten, and campers gathered around a campfire for a genuine fireside, where they heard an inspiring message from a member of the Peoria Arizona North Stake presidency. Saturday morning two teams at a time set out every 15 minutes to begin the race. An awards ceremony rounded out the day of fun and team building.
Brett Wood from the Sierra Verde Ward said, “The Iditarod is so awesome. The race course competition challenges you mentally and physically. It teaches you teamwork. It is hard but rewarding.”
“We really enjoyed the Iditarod,” added JC May from the winning Daisy Mountain Ward. “It is a time for us to get to know each other and work as a team. Everyone pulled together and worked hard.”

During our mission, I once accompanied my husband when he went to interview a man for baptism. While my husband conducted the interview, I waited outside with the sister missionaries who had taught this man. When the interview was finished, my husband informed the missionaries that the man would be able to be baptized. This dear man wept and wept as he explained that he had been certain that the serious sins he had committed in his life would prevent him from being able to be baptized. I have seldom witnessed the joy and happiness of someone coming out of the darkness and into the light equal to what I witnessed that day.

As the Christmas season drew near, Nathan anxiously shared some news with his family at dinner one evening.
“Gard told me today that he has not had a Christmas tree since he was a boy.”
With that announcement, the family soon outlined a plan of action—Gard would have a Christmas tree!
On Saturday, Nathan’s family drove to the nearby forest for their traditional Christmas-tree hunt. In the past their goal had been to search until they found a perfect blue spruce for their home, but this year everyone felt more excitement than ever before at finding the right tree for Gard. A perfect little spruce caught Nathan’s eye, and everyone approved. They took the tree home to prepare for Gard’s Christmas surprise.
On Monday for family home evening, Mom helped Nathan, Angie, and Eric make ornaments out of felt, glitter, ribbon, buttons, and beads. Then they decorated the tree and loaded it into the back of their truck.
Nathan had never felt such excitement as they huddled together around the tree before knocking on Gard’s door. As soon as they heard the click of the latch, everyone started singing, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
Gard’s eyes lit up with excitement, followed by a few tears of joy as he invited them in. He danced from one foot to the other as he helped Nathan and Dad place the tree in front of his window that faced the street. Gard was so excited about his Christmas tree that he left it standing and decorated until March! Nathan and his family felt a warm peace in their hearts as they observed the soft glow of Gard’s tree lights each evening throughout the winter.

The brothers—Michael, Peter, and Matthias Lehmann—had spent their lives behind barbed wire and concrete walls, guarded by men who would shoot to kill anyone who tried to escape. It looked like a life sentence with no hope of parole.
Inmates of a maximum security prison? Hardly. The Lehmanns are an active LDS family whose only “crime” was being born in East Germany. And it looked like future generations of Lehmanns would also be born behind the barbed wire.
Then, suddenly, in November of 1989, the East German government collapsed. Guard towers stood deserted. And the Berlin Wall that had split East from West was hammered into a million pieces.
While many East Germans rushed to fill their shopping bags in the West, Peter, Matthias, and Michael Lehmann hurried to fill out their mission papers.
The young men’s parents, Rudolf and Ruth Lehmann, had joined the Church just months before the infamous wall was built in 1961. They proceeded to raise seven LDS sons in a country where families were small and atheism was the official religion. Like other East German citizens, the Lehmanns were told where they could and could not travel, what schools they could attend, what occupations they could pursue, and what they couldn’t read or say. They could practice their religion in their home, and they could meet in small branches, but government agents sometimes visited their meetings. They could have their scriptures, but other Church literature was stopped at the border. Proselyting was forbidden, and going on missions was out of the question. It was a challenging place in which to grow up as faithful Church members.
Peter Lehmann remembers being made fun of in citizenship classes in school. Everyone knew he was a Mormon. “In fact,” he says, “they probably knew more about my life than I did. We were watched. I think my family had a red dot on any record we had in any government office. We belonged to the Mormon church. We had seven sons. We were a different family.”
Michael Lehmann recalls: “My parents tried to raise me in a way that I wouldn’t talk about certain topics in public. They taught me to be careful in case I was near somebody who might have installed microphones or something like that. You never knew who to trust.”
In those conditions, people either dropped away from the Church completely, or they clung to it—and each other. It was a place where faith grew despite the surroundings. And, as President Spencer W. Kimball said, faith precedes miracles.
Most of the miracles were quiet ones: healings and the blessings that come from paying tithing and living the Word of Wisdom. And there was the miracle of developing and keeping a testimony in such a place.
Michael: “When I started going to school, I had a hard time with it because my parents told me about God, but everybody around me—students and teachers—tried to tell me there was no God at all.”
Peter: “In citizenship classes in school we were taught atheism as official policy. They made fun of religion in class and said if you belonged to a religious organization, you were working against the government. The government was more or less worshiped.”
Parents taught one thing; society often taught the opposite. Like LDS teens everywhere, the Lehmann brothers had to find out for themselves. “We had a really good home,” Peter recalls. “I kind of recognized the importance of doing what my parents wanted me to do. Still, with all of the experiences I had in school—people and teachers gave us a hard time and wanted me to get up and deny God—I said to myself, ‘We’re doing all this stuff. Why? There’s got to be something.’ I got on my knees and said, ‘I want to know for myself. I want to have the feeling in my heart.’
“I prayed and studied the Book of Mormon, and I got a testimony at that time, a little testimony that grew.”
Gaining a testimony is a major step. But what do you do when you know something is true and necessary—but it looks impossible to achieve? For example, what do you do when you have been taught how important temples are, yet you can’t travel to one? You do what the Lehmanns and other East German Saints did. You pray, and you live to be worthy of temple blessings someday in the future. And it looked like it would be a long way into the future.
But even faithful people can be surprised by blessings. And when the East German government announced in 1982 that the Church would be allowed to build a temple there, the members were grateful and astonished. “I was amazed,” says Michael simply. “From that time on, I knew everything else was possible.”
The brothers talk about the time they went with their father to see the temple while it was under construction. After work one night, they took off, riding their dilapidated bikes twenty-five miles through the hilly countryside. And when they got to the temple site, they just stood across the street from the rising walls and watched.
And they wept.
The four eldest Lehmann brothers had grown up in the Church, found occupations, married—all without real hope of first serving missions. And it looked like the three youngest would follow the same path.
Michael, oldest of the three, says, “In church, everybody talks about saving money for a mission, but because the wall was up, none of the younger people believed we would be able to go on missions.”
“My parents taught me to save money to go on a mission,” says Matthias, “and I did it, too. But I never really thought I’d be able to go.” His patriarchal blessing did say he would serve a mission, but he assumed it would be later in life. When he served as a stake missionary at the open house prior to the temple dedication, Matthias thought maybe that was the fulfillment of the blessing.
Then there was Peter, youngest of the sons. He knew something his brothers didn’t know. Peter received his patriarchal blessing in 1986, after the temple dedication. He talks about going to a small town on the Polish border, attending a small branch in a shabby rented building rich with the Spirit, and then going to the home of the patriarch.
“He told me that I would go on a full-time mission. I would serve in a different country and a different language, and it would be in my youth. I was crying, I felt so close to the Lord in that moment. Afterward, I read my patriarchal blessing every night. I prayed. And I started saving money for my mission. I knew I was going soon.”
Peter just didn’t know where he would be going. (He thought somehow it might be Russia, since he spoke that language fairly well.) And, for some reason, he shared his blessing with his parents but not his brothers. “I was kind of different in my family. I always said, ‘We’re going on a mission, and it’s going to be great. We’re going to change things.’ My brother Matthias was skeptical. But I had my patriarchal blessing. I knew.”
Still, Peter didn’t know how it would happen.
Then, not long before the hated wall came down, the East German government began to allow a few full-time missionaries into East Germany for the first time in fifty years. At the same time, a handful of East German missionaries were allowed out of the country to serve in other nations. For some reason, none of the Lehmanns were permitted to be part of that group.
But then came those November days that were replayed on TV screens all over the world. East Berliners sat atop the wall with hammers and iron bars, tearing apart a barrier that had already been undermined by faith and prayer.
Peter was the first to submit his mission papers. Matthias and Michael followed soon after. All three were called to missions in the United States: Michael in the Tennessee Nashville Mission, Matthias in the Idaho Boise Mission, and Peter in the Colorado Denver Mission.
They knew what it was like to become free. Now they were ready to help others tear down another kind of wall. Every conversion, every life changed, is another person set free spiritually. And that is the greatest freedom. Just ask the Lehmanns.

Some years ago, Constance, a student nurse, was assigned to try and help a woman who had injured her leg in an accident. The woman refused medical help because she had had a negative experience with someone at the hospital. She was afraid and had become something of a recluse. The first time Constance dropped by, the injured woman ordered her out. On the second try, she did let Constance in. By now the woman’s leg was covered with large ulcers, and some of the flesh was rotting. But still she didn’t want to be treated.

Constance made it a matter of prayer, and in a day or two the answer came. She took some foaming hydrogen peroxide with her for the next visit. As this was painless, the old woman let her use it on her leg. Then they talked about more serious treatment at the hospital. Constance assured her the hospital would make her stay as pleasant as possible. In a day or two the woman did get the courage to enter the hospital. When Constance visited her, the woman smiled as she said, “You convinced me.” Then, quite unexpectedly, she asked Constance, “What church do you belong to?” Constance told her she was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The woman said: “I knew it. I knew you were sent to me from the first day that I saw you. There was a light in your face that I had noticed in others of your faith. I had to put my trust in you.”

In three months’ time that festering leg was completely healed. Members of the ward where the old woman lived remodeled her house and fixed up her yard. The missionaries met with her, and she was baptized soon after. All of this because she noticed the light in that young student nurse’s face.