Gospel Story Finder

Once while riding in a plane, I engaged in conversation with a young man who was seated beside me. We moved from one subject to another and then came to the matter of religion. He said that he had read considerably about the Latter-day Saints, that he had found much to admire in their practices, but that he had a definite prejudice concerning the story of the origin of the Church and particularly Joseph Smith. He was an active member of another organization, and when I asked where he had acquired his information, he indicated that it had come from publications of his church. I asked what company he worked for. He proudly replied that he was a sales representative for an international computer company. I then asked whether he would think it fair for his customers to learn of the qualities of its products from a representative of its leading competitor. He replied with a smile, “I think I get the point of what you’re trying to say.”
I took from my case a copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and read to him the words of the Lord expressed through Joseph Smith, words which are the source of those practices my friend had come to admire in us while disdaining the man through whom they had come. Before we parted, he agreed to read the literature I would send to him. I promised him that if he would do so prayerfully he would know the truth not only of these doctrines and practices which had interested him, but also of the man through whom they were introduced. I then gave him my testimony of my conviction concerning the prophetic calling of Joseph Smith. That baby boy born 200 years ago this month in humble circumstances in rural Vermont was foreordained to become a great leader in the fulfilling of our Father’s plan for His children on earth.

Isabelle loved to pray! In the morning she said a “good morning” prayer. She thanked Heavenly Father for the sunshine and a new day.
At lunchtime Isabelle told Heavenly Father about her day so far. She prayed for help to be nice to her sisters when they got home from school.
At bedtime Isabelle’s family prayed together. They always started by talking about people who might need extra blessings.
Tonight Daddy said, “Please pray for Uncle Dan. He lost his job.”
Isabelle felt sad. She didn’t know a lot about grown-up work, but she knew that losing a job was bad. She loved her uncle. He made yummy popcorn. And last time he came over, he had showed her how to do a cartwheel!
“I’ll pray for him to find a job,” Maria said. She was one of Isabelle’s older sisters. It was her turn to pray out loud for the family.
The next day, Isabelle asked Daddy if Uncle Dan found a job yet.
“Not yet,” Daddy said. “Sometimes prayers aren’t answered right away.”
“So should we keep praying for him?” Isabelle asked.
Daddy nodded. “That would mean a lot to Uncle Dan.”
Every day, Isabelle and her sisters kept praying for Uncle Dan. They prayed for him to find a job. They prayed for him to have enough money for what he needed. They prayed for him to feel loved.
Isabelle was glad she could help Uncle Dan with her prayers. Praying for him made her feel happy and strong.
They helped Uncle Dan in other ways too. One day they helped Uncle Dan clean his house. Another day, Isabelle and Mommy stopped by to watch a movie with Uncle Dan.
Weeks went by. Finally, Daddy had good news.
“Uncle Dan has two job interviews this week!” Daddy said.
Isabelle felt happy inside. She was glad she could pray for the people she loved.
Who can you pray for?

As I poured the boiling water into the mush pot and stirred in the cracked wheat, I thought of other Thanksgivings. Last year when Grandma was taking flaky crusted pies out of the oven with a towel, her thumb accidentally touched the hot tin pan and she dropped a currant pie upside down on the kitchen floor. Steaming red juice trickled across the clean linoleum, and I thought it was a disaster until Grandma said, “You youngsters can have that pie.” She wasn’t one to waste anything. I remember my aunts saying that Grandma was so saving that if a mosquito lit in the molasses, she’d lick its legs before turning it loose. Maybe so, but no pie ever tasted so good as the one she dropped.

To introduce people to the Church, the São Paulo Brazil Stake celebrated its 30th anniversary in 1996 with a missionary open house showing what the Church has to offer families. Those who attended were able to experience Relief Society, Young Women and Young Men, or Primary lessons; in the Primary section, for example, visitors learned to sing “I Am a Child of God” and created a picture to take home.
Stake mission president Norberto Carlos Lopes, a dynamic man who was on crutches at the time because of a leg injury, says the event literally kept him hopping from place to place. Some 616 people were introduced to the Church at the open house, and for several weeks afterward missionaries averaged one baptism per day. Brother Lopes says the many members who brought guests or helped with the event typify the perseverance Brazilian Saints show in sharing the gospel with others. “We can’t quit working with people,” he says, “because we never know the day someone’s heart will be open.”

Please notice the Lord's pattern of providing spiritual knowledge in the following statement by President Joseph F. Smith.

When I as a boy first started out in the ministry, I would frequently go out and ask the Lord to show me some marvelous thing, in order that I might receive a testimony. But the Lord withheld marvels from me, and showed me the truth, line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little, until he made me to know the truth from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and until doubt and fear had been absolutely purged from me. He did not have to send an angel from the heavens to do this, nor did he have to speak with the trump of an archangel. By the whisperings of the still small voice of the Spirit of the living God, he gave to me the testimony I possess. And by this principle and power he will give to all the children of men a knowledge of the truth that will stay with them, and it will make them to know the truth, as God knows it, and to do the will of the Father as Christ does it. And no amount of marvelous manifestations will ever accomplish this. It is obedience, humility, and submission to the requirements of heaven and to the order established in the kingdom of God upon the earth, that will establish men in the truth. Men may receive the visitation of angels; they may speak in tongues; they may heal the sick by the laying on of hands; they may have visions and dreams; but except they are faithful and pure in heart, they become an easy prey to the adversary of their souls, and he will lead them into darkness and unbelief more easily than others.

It is interesting to note how as a young man President Smith expected a big answer quickly and all at one time. Ultimately, however, he received many small answers over an extended period of time; and thereby his testimony grew ever stronger.

“I’ll race you to the church!” Mórmon said, pointing to the church steeple poking out above the palm trees. Then he ran as fast as he could to stay ahead of his younger brother, Morian.
The boys and their parents had already walked about a mile from their home, but Mórmon and Morian were still racing hard when they reached the metal gate outside their ward meetinghouse. They stopped to catch their breath.
Before they could decide who won, a boy called out to them, “Want to play futebol?”
Mórmon loved futebol, but he and his family were going to clean the ward building so it would be ready for church the next day.
Mórmon shook his head. “Not now—maybe later!” he called back.
Soon Mórmon and Morian were working hard. Mórmon moved chairs and swept floors with Papa while Morian mopped floors with Mama.
Later the boys were washing mirrors in the bathroom together. “I didn’t think I’d like cleaning the church, but it’s fun,” Morian said. “What about you, Mórmon? Is that why you came instead of playing futebol?”
Mórmon thought about Papa. He was the bishop of their ward, but he still took time to help clean the meetinghouse.
“I’m here because I want to be like Papa,” Mórmon said.
Then he thought about the missionaries in his ward. They were busy knocking on doors and sharing the Book of Mormon with others. They would invite people to come to church at the building the boys were cleaning.
I’m here because someday I want to serve a mission too, Mórmon thought. I can help the missionaries by getting the church ready.
Mórmon thought about tomorrow, when he and his brother would get up at 6:00 a.m., walk to church in their white shirts and ties, and prepare the chairs and songbooks in the Primary room.
I’m here because I want to serve in a Church calling, he thought.
Mórmon thought about how he would soon be a deacon. He would pass the sacrament and do many other things to serve.
I’m here because next year I will receive the priesthood, and I want to do everything I can now to get ready.
Mórmon had already done something to prepare for the priesthood: he had earned his Faith in God Award. He was already learning to live the gospel and serve others.
Finally he looked at his brother’s reflection in the mirror and smiled.
“I’m here because I love the Lord,” he said, “and because serving now will help me get ready to serve later.”

In spite of how hard that experience was, I forgave my friends for what they did. I knew they didn’t understand my standards and my decision to live the Word of Wisdom, so I forgave them and chose not to have any bad feelings toward them. When we finished school, I left on my mission but continued to communicate with Juan and Francisco. I wrote them frequent letters sharing with them the gospel and my testimony of Jesus Christ. I invited them to repent and to attend church. To my great surprise, one of them actually went.
I had frequently invited my friends to Sunday meetings before, but none had accepted until now. Although I couldn’t attend with Juan, my brothers and my father were there to help him and fellowship him. My family accepted him, and Juan felt very comfortable at church. He started changing little by little until he made the decision to get baptized. I was thrilled for him and even more thrilled when he told me he had learned to love Jesus Christ because of my letters. When I came home from my mission, I also stayed close with Francisco, and after some time, he and his wife also got baptized. Today, Juan and Francisco are still two of my closest friends.

Darkness had already fallen for several hours when I pulled into the town where missionary Sisters Hucks and Matson were serving. It was late in the day, but I thought I should stop to say hello since I had to leave early the next morning. The lights in their apartment were on so I guessed correctly that they were there. I was greeted with enthusiasm, and they started our conversation with, “Guess what happened with us tonight, president.”
“Tell me, what happened?”
“Well, the ward mission leader has been behaving mysteriously all week. He never asked us—he told us to be at a meeting at the church tonight. We were almost angry at him, and we wondered what was happening. When we got to the church there were a few cars parked outside but no one was in sight.
“We went into the church and could see lights on and hear voices in one of the rooms down the hall. We walked down there and knocked on the door.
“Everything went quiet, and then the door opened wide.
“To our surprise the room was filled with people, and on the front row looking right at us with radiant smiles was the family we had been teaching. They were all dressed in white baptismal clothes.” Unable to speak further, the sisters smiled at me through their tears.

One time I was with my friends, and one of them said he didn’t believe Jesus Christ was everything people said He was and that the Bible could have been written by anyone. I never felt the Spirit so strongly as when I said, “I know it’s true. I know it.” Everyone was quiet. My friend said he wished he could have that same knowledge. It was the perfect chance to share with him how to obtain a testimony. Pray for Heavenly Father to guide you so you can be an instrument in His hands. Don’t be afraid to share your testimony.
Laura R., 20, Asunción, Paraguay

On Gratitude to the Lord
Obeying God’s commandments has been important to us. We stood firmly by our decision to keep the Sabbath day holy and wouldn’t bend. As we did all that we could do, our children learned that there is a God and He blesses us. Our children really do hear and remember.
When our oldest son was serving in the Japan Fukuoka Mission, the mission president often introduced him by saying, “Elder Kawada’s father stopped growing potatoes so he could keep the Sabbath day holy. Elder Kawada was raised in a family like that.”
We feel happy when we see our children. They come to church. They have served missions and married in the temple. We are grateful to our Heavenly Father, who knows us and has blessed us.

Most of my brothers and I were influenced by our mother and joined the Church one after another. As we attended church, our lives changed through the gospel and the help extended to us from the brothers and sisters at church. We became better sons and brothers. We started helping one another more and found life to be enjoyable. Four of us later preached the gospel as missionaries in various parts of Japan. When one of my older brothers, who had moved away from Okinawa, saw the fine stature of one of his younger brothers who was serving a mission, he said, “I can’t believe this is my younger brother who used to be so wild.” Then of his own initiative, he sought out the Church and was soon baptized and confirmed.

It is not easy to give up our personal priorities and desires. Many years ago a new missionary in England was frustrated and discouraged. He wrote home saying he felt he was wasting his time. His wise father replied, “Forget yourself and go to work.”1 Young Elder Gordon B. Hinckley went to his knees and covenanted with the Lord that he would try to forget himself and lose himself in the Lord’s service.2 Years later, as a mature servant of the Lord, Elder Hinckley would say, “He who lives only unto himself withers and dies, while he who forgets himself in the service of others grows and blossoms in this life and in eternity.”3

A time back, I clipped a column from the Deseret Morning News, written by Jay Evensen. With his permission, I quote from a part of it. Wrote he:
“How would you feel toward a teenager who decided to toss a 20-pound frozen turkey from a speeding car headlong into the windshield of the car you were driving? How would you feel after enduring six hours of surgery using metal plates and other hardware to piece your face together, and after learning you still face years of therapy before returning to normal—and that you ought to feel lucky you didn’t die or suffer permanent brain damage?
“And how would you feel after learning that your assailant and his buddies had the turkey in the first place because they had stolen a credit card and gone on a senseless shopping spree, just for kicks? …
“This is the kind of hideous crime that propels politicians to office on promises of getting tough on crime. It’s the kind of thing that prompts legislators to climb all over each other in a struggle to be the first to introduce a bill that would add enhanced penalties for the use of frozen fowl in the commission of a crime.
“The New York Times quoted the district attorney as saying this is the sort of crime for which victims feel no punishment is harsh enough. ‘Death doesn’t even satisfy them,’ he said.
“Which is what makes what really happened so unusual. The victim, Victoria Ruvolo, a 44-year-old former manager of a collections agency, was more interested in salvaging the life of her 19-year-old assailant, Ryan Cushing, than in exacting any sort of revenge. She pestered prosecutors for information about him, his life, how he was raised, etc. Then she insisted on offering him a plea deal. Cushing could serve six months in the county jail and be on probation for 5 years if he pleaded guilty to second-degree assault.
“Had he been convicted of first-degree assault—the charge most fitting for the crime—he could have served 25 years in prison, finally thrown back into society as a middle-aged man with no skills or prospects.
“But this is only half the story. The rest of it, what happened the day this all played out in court, is the truly remarkable part.
“According to an account in the New York Post, Cushing carefully and tentatively made his way to where Ruvolo sat in the courtroom and tearfully whispered an apology. ‘I’m so sorry for what I did to you.’
“Ruvolo then stood, and the victim and her assailant embraced, weeping. She stroked his head and patted his back as he sobbed, and witnesses, including a Times reporter, heard her say, ‘It’s OK. I just want you to make your life the best it can be.’ According to accounts, hardened prosecutors, and even reporters, were choking back tears” (“Forgiveness Has Power to Change Future,” Deseret Morning News, Aug. 21, 2005, p. AA3).
What a great story that is, greater because it actually happened, and that it happened in tough old New York. Who can feel anything but admiration for this woman who forgave the young man who might have taken her life?

The gospel changed Brother Ng’s life. “My wife tells me I was entirely different after joining the Church,” he says, laughing. “My temper became smooth. My finances were better because I paid tithing. I didn’t worry about food or shelter because I kept the commandments. A happy life followed.”
After seeing the difference the gospel made in her husband’s life, Sister Ng Pang Lai Har also investigated the gospel. Missionaries often visited their home, teaching her husband one of the new member lessons, then teaching her one of the 18 discussions.
Ten months after her husband’s baptism, Sister Ng was baptized. Brother Ng had the privilege of baptizing their seven children as they reached age eight.

Once, when Joseph was arrested while conducting a confirmation service, Brother Knight hired two farmer neighbors versed in the law, who successfully defended the Prophet and gained his release from jail. As a result of Joseph Knight’s kindness to the Prophet, Knight’s anti-Mormon neighbors vandalized his property while he was away. One account states that they sank some of his wagons in water, overturned others, and threw chains into the millstream. Brother Knight’s response was that, even so, the house was filled with the Holy Ghost upon their return, and they were grateful to have the Prophet with them.

I learned just how eager they were one spring day while driving to Salt Lake City to talk with a woman there. Suddenly, I felt that I could hear the sound of drums beating. I seemed to see an Indian woman, dressed in an oversize plaid shirt, a Navajo skirt, and a silver medallion belt. The seat beside me was empty, but I could sense her presence.
When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt prompted to ask the woman with whom I had the appointment whether she had any Indian ancestors. But Carolyn doesn’t look Indian; she’s blonde and blue-eyed, I thought to myself. She’ll think I’m crazy.
When I met Carolyn in her office, the prompting for me to ask was just as strong as it had been in the car. So I asked if she had Indian ancestors.
“Yes,” she said. “My grandmother was Cherokee and was adopted by the Navajo.” She told me about how her “Granny” had worked as a nurse for many years with the Navajo in Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Texas. Later, I asked Carolyn about the clothing her grandmother had worn, and she described to me the clothing I had seen the woman wearing.
I told Carolyn about the temple work we had done for the Choctaw. She was thrilled about the possibility of doing the same work for the Cherokee. The Cherokee were the second nation to walk the “Trail of Tears”; there is a record of the tribe in its entirety from 1835—before they had settled in Oklahoma. Carolyn is now doing extraction work on that record, preparing names for the temple.

One experience I had while attending graduate school was critical to continuing on my path. While I was working on a class assignment in architecture school, late one night, which wasn’t at all unusual, I was praying for help on the assignment and the spirit told me, “Move to Arizona.” What? Move away from Salt Lake, where the church was, where I thought I would work someday? Why would I move away from a future job location where I was supposed to be? This wasn’t on the path. I asked my father if he would give me a father’s blessing. It proved to be the guide that I needed at that time. Gayle and I had peace come to our hearts as the work in Salt Lake slowed way down and a friend of mine who was working in Mesa, Arizona called and asked if I would be willing to move down there and work because he was very busy.

For the next ten years, I worked in private practice trying to complete the requirements for my license as well as just making a living. During this time, my partner and I did a number of projects for the church, which exposed me to people inside the church organization working on buildings. This gave me a lot of experience, more than I had planned on.

Some twenty-four years ago I was seated in the choir seats of the Assembly Hall situated to the south of us here on Temple Square. The setting was stake conference. Elder Joseph Fielding Smith and Elder Alma Sonne had been assigned to reorganize our stake presidency. The Aaronic Priesthood, including members of bishoprics, were providing the music for the conference. Those of us who served as bishops were singing along with our young men. As we concluded singing our first selection, Brother Smith stepped to the pulpit and announced the names of the new stake presidency. I am confident the other members of the presidency had been made aware of their callings, but I had not. After reading my name, Brother Smith announced, “If Brother Monson is willing to respond to this call we shall be pleased to hear from him now.” As I stood at the pulpit and gazed out on that sea of faces, I remembered the song we had just sung. Its title was “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say No.” I selected as my acceptance theme “Have Courage, My Boy, to Say Yes.” Such is the courage I seek this evening.

I was invited to go on a camping trip with all the priests in my stake the summer before I left for college. I had just recently come back to Church after three years away. I had an extremely small testimony when I arrived at the stake center ready to go camping. I cared more about sleeping and remote-control cars than I did about the Lord. I had no clue what the trip was about, but I knew deep down I needed to go on it.
Through the entire trip my testimony kept strengthening. Every experience I had kept pushing me forward. I broke down in tears daily as I felt the Spirit touch me. On the last day of the trip, all the dirty and smelly priests gathered in the smallest branch meetinghouse I had ever seen. One by one we all shared our testimonies. When it was my turn to stand up, I felt the Spirit so strongly I started shaking. I could not stop crying, but I knew I was doing the right thing. I needed to share the testimony I had gained on this trip.
All the boys from my ward turned around and looked at me as I shared the precious gift I had been given. I could see they felt the Spirit, and this made the Spirit feel even stronger within me. I then knew, without a doubt, I was a child of God, and I had made the right decision to be baptized into the true Church of God. I knew at that moment I needed to become the best person I could be, so I would be able to be a loyal servant in the hands of the Lord.
I will always remember the looks on the faces of the priests in my ward as I shared my testimony that day. Every time I look back at that moment, I am touched by the Spirit. I had never borne my testimony before that day, nor had I received one I could share. But in that week I had grown more than I had grown since I was baptized six years earlier. I experienced the change of heart I had only read about. I had become fully converted.

I will always remember with gratitude one special leader who changed my life for the better. When I met her, I didn’t have many friends. I was not very talkative and would not smile at people. I didn’t participate in seminary or other activities. In fact, I went to church only on Sundays. And even then my thoughts wandered in Young Women class. Some of the girls tried to include me, but I closed myself off from them.
When this leader first tried to get close to me, she didn’t have much success. At first I didn’t even know her name. Then she gave me a job to do and began to depend on me. I accepted the responsibility only because I didn’t know how to tell her no. Then, before I even realized it, she started to become my friend. I began trying harder and harder to fulfill my calling, and I began paying attention in class. I even started attending seminary and other Church activities. I also made friends with the young people in my ward. Soon the gospel was the most important thing in my life.
Who started all these changes in my life? It was my leader. Today when I look into her eyes, I feel an immense love and gratitude. I am grateful to Heavenly Father for the opportunity of having such a special leader. I am grateful to her for preparing me and being with me on the day I received my endowment in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. I am grateful for her example of love, a love I try to apply in my own life.
Now that I am a Young Women leader in my ward, I hope I can do for my young women at least a part of what she did for me.