Gospel Story Finder

When I was an undergraduate, I had the privilege of studying at the BYU Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies. On one field trip we visited an area in which a large stone tower stood. From the tower a watchman could detect threats before they were visible from the ground, protecting the olive, fig, and grape vineyard from plunder.
Years later I reenacted this scene with my family in family home evening. We live in a two-story home. Our backyard is relatively flat close to the home but descends rapidly into a wooded area. For our family home evening lesson, all but one member of the family stayed on the main floor and looked out the windows toward the backyard. One family member climbed the stairs to a second-story bedroom with a window that also looked toward the backyard.
I hid in the backyard and, unbeknownst to my children, was armed with a bow and arrow. Now, with my skills as an archer, I might have been able to harm someone only by accident, but I looked menacing, and that was enough for our lesson.
As I climbed the wooded ascent toward our home, the members of my family on the main floor could not see me. They saw only the grass and trees in our backyard. I was detected, however, by the child at the upstairs window. Before I could lunge from the woods in surprise, I was spotted, and a warning cry went out to those below.

Returning to the family home evening I described earlier, after I was discovered approaching the home with a bow and arrow, we repeated the experience with some modification. A different child took the post at the second-story window. This time I placed our family home evening treat in the garden, a sunken area just beyond the grass of our yard. As before, members of the family on the main floor could not see the treat. Again, however, the watchman at the second-story window could spot the treat that awaited us.

Another pioneer woman was Lovisa Munter of Uppsala. She became a member in 1886 and was faithful until her death at 91 years of age. On many Sundays she went to the meeting hall, turned on the light, and waited for other members to come. Often no one came. At 11:00 a.m. she would say to herself, “God should not have to wait.” She would sing a song, say a prayer, give a little talk, and then finish with another song and prayer.
When she had occasion to travel to Stockholm by train, Sister Munter would pass out tracts about the Church. Her legacy of faith continues: several of her descendants have returned to Sweden as missionaries.3

It is difficult to turn to God when we make mistakes. One of the most touching and valuable lessons regarding turning to God after making poor decisions came from a young woman who became pregnant out of wedlock at a very young age. I worked in adoptions in LDS Family Services for years and could relate other such experiences. I served as her priesthood leader. At such a tender age, she was required to make the difficult decision of what to do with and for her unborn child. After much thought and prayer and counseling with others, she came to the conclusion that she would do what she believed was in the best interest of her child. She placed it with a young couple that could not have children of their own. After struggling with this heart wrenching decision, she went through the challenging experience of repentance. Perhaps her greatest challenge was to forgive herself.

One of the last times I spoke with her as a Church leader, I asked her, "How do you feel about the Savior?" I will never forget what she said: "I love the Savior very much. I know He lives and loves me and that He has forgiven me of my mistakes and sins." Words cannot express what she said, how she said it and how I felt that day, but I remember thinking that such a young girl would not generally have such an abiding testimony of the Savior. This kind of a testimony was more often found in older more experienced members of the Church.

It was another reminder that God is most generous, and He will bless us without measure as we turn our lives and hearts to him. Even when we make serious mistakes and have difficult problems, He is saying to us, "I'm sorry that you made a wrong choice or that you had to suffer such difficulty, but if you will turn your heart to me, I will make the blessing that comes out of it even greater than the disappointment and challenges that you faced going through it." Truly, we can have confidence that "All things work together to them that walk uprightly."

I spent a semester in Mexico during my senior year of high school. Weekdays found me studying hard at a university in Guadalajara. Weekends found me touring the Yucatán, San Miguel de Allende, Puerto Vallarta, and Mazatlán. One day I was on my own exploring a huge park in Mexico City. I was thoroughly enjoying the sights and sounds--and the feeling of maturity at being alone in a foreign country. With my rudimentary Spanish skills, I stopped at a cart where a man was selling soft drinks and bought an icy-cold glass bottle of Fanta Orange. I thanked the man, turned, and strolled off.
After about 30 seconds, I became aware that someone was making a hissing noise at me. Hiss. Teasing American tourists is a common game, so I ignored the pest. I kept my eyes straight ahead and pretended that I hadn't heard. The hiss got louder, so I knew the person was following me. I walked a little faster. So did the hiss. In fact, I quickly realized that, if I didn't break into a run, the hiss would soon be upon me. Finally, summoning my courage, I took a deep breath and turned to confront my pursuer. It was the Fanta man; he wanted his bottle back. I was supposed to have drunk the Fanta at his cart--and he had been chasing me for several blocks. You see, the hiss is a way of calling attention in Mexico, much like the whistle is in the United States. But I hadn't known that, so I didn't respond the way I should have done.

The day after Mother’s Day, Eric and his mom went to the local pharmacy to fill a prescription. Eric walked around the pharmacy while his mother purchased the medication. When they got back in the car, Eric asked if he could talk to his mom for a minute.
“Sure, Son,” Mom said, reaching for the ignition.
Eric grabbed her hand and said, “Don’t go. Can we talk right here?” Mom turned off the ignition and shifted in her seat to listen.
Eric then told her about a boy in his school class named Josh.* His mother had died of cancer during the previous Christmas holidays. He said that ever since then, Josh was often very sad at school. Sometimes his dad even had to come and take him home from school because he couldn’t stop crying.
Mother’s Day had been very hard for Josh. He had brought a stuffed bear to school that next day and had hugged it for comfort all the time. During recess, he had taken the bear out onto the playground. Some of the bigger kids took Josh’s bear away from him. While they teased him by throwing it back and forth, the bear had ripped apart. Eric felt bad because he knew that Josh’s family didn’t have a lot of money and that they might not be able to buy him another bear. While in the pharmacy, Eric had seen a bear just like Josh’s. He wanted permission to spend his allowance money to buy it for him.
Eric and his mom went back into the pharmacy and bought the bear. Eric took it to school in his backpack the next day. Mom told Eric not to give the bear to Josh until she’d made sure it was OK with their teacher. The teacher said that she would be glad to arrange for Eric to give the bear to Josh.
That evening, Mom asked Eric how it went. He said that their teacher had asked the two of them to stay in for a few minutes while the rest of the class went to recess. She’d asked Josh what had happened to his bear the day before. Josh’s first words were “Eric didn’t do it.”
She said that wasn’t the reason she’d had them stay in and then explained that Eric wanted to give him another bear. The bear went from backpack to backpack for safe keeping. Eric said that Josh almost cried when he gave it to him. Eric said that the best feeling of all was to see Josh smile, and, as he left for the day, Josh gave him a big high-five.

When I was enrolled here in 1970, it was my opportunity to be a senior resident on the top floor of the Rigby Hall on the north end. As a senior resident, I had a room all to myself. One night as we met as a ward, our stake president spoke to us. He challenged us to pray for 15 minutes that night in our personal prayer. He asked us to actually have a clock where we could see it to help us keep track of how long we had prayed. After we had prayed as long as we could, if we looked up and the 15 minutes hadn't expired, he encouraged us to continue praying and to repeat the process until we had prayed for a full 15 minutes. I accepted his challenge. Please know that I was a returned missionary at this time. I started to pray--I prayed everything that had ever come to mind in previous prayers and then said everything I could remember my parents saying in our family prayers. It felt like 30 minutes had passed. I hesitantly looked up at the clock--surprisingly, only 5 minutes had gone by. So, I prayed longer, trying to think of more to speak with our Heavenly Father about that hadn't been said. I looked up again only to discover I had 7 minutes to go. Finally, the prayer began to come from the deepest parts of my soul and tears began to stream down my face. The reason for the challenge from our stake president became clear--humility and reverence had replaced the oftimes casual, brief and superficial prayers that had become too common in my life. I learned a great lesson that night--for prayer to get past the ceiling, reverence and sincerity are required and as we pray in this fervent manner, we will begin to grow in reverence and in our ability to communicate with the Lord. Please don't think I'm suggesting that you try this 15 minute experiment. But, you may want to consider assessing the genuineness of your prayers and your connection to the Almighty.

As I was thinking about the mission of BYU and preparing for this opportunity to speak with you today, a wonderful memory came to my mind.
On October 10, 1975, I was twenty-three years old, recently married, and a senior at BYU. That day I attended the weekly devotional and listened to President Spencer W. Kimball deliver his landmark message “The Second Century of Brigham Young University.” Among the Church and university leaders seated on the stand were Neal A. Maxwell, the commissioner of Church Education, Dallin H. Oaks, the president of the university, and Jeffrey R. Holland, the dean of Religious Instruction.
President Kimball’s instruction that day was inspiring, edifying, and prophetic. He reviewed key aspects of the university’s first century of service and described both opportunities and challenges for the university’s second century. Listening to the president and prophet of the Lord’s restored Church that day was a historic event and a most memorable experience for me.
We are approaching the halfway mark of the second century of BYU, and I believe it is an appropriate time to consider where we are and what may be coming next.

He gave his final talk in the Dewsbury Ward, Huddersfield Stake. The chapel was packed with past and present service missionaries who came to hear him and celebrate his great success. One brother, who had not been to Church for some time, commented that he felt the Spirit very strongly in the meeting and would be coming back to Church. This Spirit was probably due to the many angels who I believe attended that meeting to offer their appreciation for his wonderful missionary service, as he helped in gathering Israel on the other side of the veil.

There are other ways as well by which one might lift and serve. On one occasion, I was speaking with a retired executive I had known for a long time. I asked him, “Ed, what are you doing in the Church?” He replied, “I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.” Short in stature, “Little Ed,” as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.

Vivian K., 18
Growing up, I watched my uncles and cousins dance fireknife. I thought it was really cool, but I didn’t know if I could do it myself. In high school, I made it one of my goals to learn how to do it. After I learned, I made my goal more specific: I wanted to compete in a fireknife competition.
Fireknife has helped me gain confidence in myself. When you’re dancing, there’re certain moves where you throw the knife up, watch it in the air, and then catch it. I used to run away from the blade after I threw it up. My dad taught me that I needed to commit to the move and be confident in myself.
Inspired by her family members, Vivian has gained confidence to carry the flame.
Over time, I started carrying myself more confidently while performing and in everything else. It’s really great now because sometimes girls come up to me after performances and say they were inspired and also want to try fireknife dancing. I’m so excited that I’m inspiring other people to do something they thought they maybe couldn’t do.

Prodi sat up in bed with a jolt. His heart was beating fast.
Rain pattered on the roof as he sat in the darkness. He could hear water dripping from the African fig tree outside his window, and the air felt sticky and warm. Prodi took a deep breath and tried to relax. It was just a dream.
He crawled out of bed and peeked into his parents’ room. Mama and Papa were sleeping peacefully. His little sister, Célia, was curled up in her bed too. Everything was OK. His family was safe.
Prodi climbed back into bed and tried to go back to sleep. He tossed and turned, then tossed and turned some more. He knew his dream wasn’t real, but it had been so scary! Even though he was tired, he was afraid to fall asleep again. What if he had another nightmare?
Prodi lay on his back and looked at the ceiling. He tried to think of happy thoughts. “Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?” A wave of warmth came over Prodi as he thought of the words to his favorite Primary song. Sister Kioska had taught them that Heavenly Father was always watching over them. They could pray to Him anytime, anywhere.
Prodi knew what to do. He got out of bed and knelt down to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he prayed, “I’m really scared. Please keep my family safe. And please help me to go to sleep and not have any more bad dreams.”
Prodi finished his prayer and climbed back in bed. His body relaxed, and his mind felt peaceful. Soon he was asleep.
When morning came, Prodi woke up to the warm sun shining through the window. He could hear pots clanging in the kitchen and got up to find Mama. Célia was at the table eating leftover cassava. Mama was warming some up for him to eat too.
“Bonjour,” Mama said. “How did you sleep?”
“I had a really scary nightmare,” Prodi said. “But then I said a prayer. Heavenly Father helped me feel safe.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” Mama said. She hugged Prodi close and didn’t let go for a long time. “But I’m so glad you said a prayer. It sounds like Heavenly Father really helped you.”
“He did,” said Prodi. “I was able to fall asleep again, and I didn’t have any more bad dreams.” Prodi hugged Mama tight. He was glad to know that no matter how scared he felt, Heavenly Father was just a prayer away.

Looking around at the girls, the stake camp director was able to point out some real success stories. One junior counselor had been reactivated into the Church because of camp. She had been so shy that she wouldn’t participate in most Church activities. But as she learned the camping and leadership skills taught in the Campcrafter program, she gained the confidence and know-how to be a junior counselor in charge of teaching skills classes and conducting camp activities. She started attending her other Church meetings as well.

Medgine Atus doesn’t remember the first time she was “baptized,” but her family does. When Medgine was three years old, a friend of the Atus family was getting ready to enter the font for his baptism. Medgine followed him and fell right into the water!
“I had to jump in with all my clothes on and rescue her!” says her father. She wasn’t hurt, and now the family jokes that Medgine was so active in the gospel that she was “baptized” twice—once when she was three and once when she was eight. Medgine, now 11, is a member of the Haitian-speaking Morningside Branch, Hialeah Gardens Florida Stake.

In the early 1950s the United States was at war on the Korean peninsula. Because of the draft policy of the government at that time, young men were not allowed to serve missions but instead required to join the military. Knowing this, I enrolled in the Army Reserve Officers’ Training Corps when I went to college. My goal was to become an officer like my oldest brother. However, during a visit home for the Christmas holiday, my home-ward bishop, Vern Freeman, invited me into his office. He advised me that a young Church leader by the name of Brother Gordon B. Hinckley had negotiated an agreement with the U.S. government permitting each ward in the Church in the United States to call one young man to serve a mission. This young man would receive an automatic deferment from the military during his mission.
Bishop Freeman said he had been praying about it and felt he should recommend me to serve as a full-time missionary representing our ward. I explained to him that I had already made other plans—I had enrolled in the Army ROTC and expected to become an officer! My bishop gently reminded me that he had been prompted to recommend me to serve a mission at that particular time. He said, “Go home and talk to your parents and come back this evening with your answer.”
I went home and told my father and mother what had happened. They said the bishop was inspired, and I should happily accept the Lord’s invitation to serve. My mother could see how disappointed I was at the prospect of not becoming an army officer right away. She quoted:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
That night I went back to the bishop’s office and accepted his invitation. He told me to go to the Selective Service Office and advise them of my decision.
When I did so, to my surprise the lady who was chairman of the Selective Service Office told me: “If you accept a mission call, you will receive your draft notice before you can reenter Army ROTC. You will serve as an enlisted man, not as an officer.”
Despite this unexpected change, my mission was wonderful. It changed the course of my life as it does for those who serve. But, true to their word, the government sent an induction letter drafting me into the U.S. Army about one month before my mission release.

Brad Lau doesn’t swear. He wouldn’t think of watching an inappropriate movie. While other guys listen to heavy metal in the locker room, Brad sings hymns he’s learned in ward choir. He never drinks or smokes, and he always minds his mother.
Oh, and he also happens to be a six-foot, 240-pound, all-state fullback who benches 350 and rushed for over 2,000 yards and scored 49 touchdowns during his high school career in Boise, Idaho.
Of all Brad’s statistics, perhaps the most noteworthy is “0.” That’s the number of times he’s used profanity since he started playing football.
A football player who never swears? It may be hard to believe, but Brad’s teammates say it’s true.
“When Brad gets mad on the field, he just shakes his head,” says quarterback Mitch Rasmussen. “He just turns red—beet red,” says tight end Mike Kelley. “He might look like he’s close to swearing, but he never lets it go,” says offensive lineman Nate Black. “He just unleashes a huge hit,” says strong safety Terry Deeble with a knowing grin.
And when Brad takes a hit? “I just say ‘ouch,’” says Brad, shrugging his enormous shoulders.
How does Brad refrain from swearing even in a high-tension sport in which cussing is so common?
For one thing, he avoids profanity in the music, television, and movies he chooses. “Obviously, I can’t go around and control what people say, but I can control what I watch and listen to.”
Although he doesn’t control others, Brad does try to have a positive influence in whatever environment he is in. “In the weight room, kids’ll play trashy CDs. I’ll turn it to something else, and some guys’ll say, ‘Why can’t we listen to this?’ If I ask nicely, ‘Can we listen to something else for a while?’ then they will.”
“When Brad picks the music, they’ll always give him a hard time, but it’s all in good fun,” says Terry.
And in the locker room, especially notorious for filthy talk and music, Brad says he likes to sing hymns.
A football player who sings hymns in the locker room? “Not only that, when Brad starts singing, other guys join in,” says Mitch.
Laughing, Brad recalls, “I remember once after practice I was singing, ‘How Great Thou Art.’ I guess other religions know it too, because all of a sudden even all the non-LDS guys started joining in. I was really surprised!”
So don’t people think Brad’s a little … well, strange?
“Actually, everyone looks up to Brad,” says Steve Warren, a Catholic teammate from high school. “He sets a good example. Everybody just considers him a friend.”
“Guys will tease him a lot, but then they’ll say, ‘Man, I wish I could be like that,’” says Mitch. “They respect him because they see someone who doesn’t back down.”
“And he’s nice to everyone,” says Terry. “I’ve never heard him say a mean thing.”
Perhaps that’s another key to Brad’s abstaining from profanity. He’s won people’s respect, so people respect his standards when they’re around him.
Says Steve, “When I’m around other people, every once in a while a swear word slips out. But when I’m around Brad, I just don’t do it.”
Mike nods his head in agreement. “There were even a couple of times when the coaches were swearing and just started apologizing right away. They weren’t even looking at Brad; they just knew he was around somewhere!”
Brad says when people do swear around him, he uses good-natured humor to encourage them to stop. “I’ll just jokingly say, ‘Heeeeey. Use substitute words!’ I have a good time with everybody.”
“During football season he started telling other players he was going to charge them money for every swear word they said. Some words were worth a quarter, some a dime, and some five cents,” says Steve.
“I didn’t keep track, so I never made any money,” Brad says with a smile.
The answer to why Brad strives to be such an example is probably the biggest key to his success. “I know the Church is true,” he says. “If I have that knowledge, then there’s no reason for me to back down and be timid.
“Why not stand up and support something you know is true? Why not choose the right no matter what anyone else is doing? I’ve set my standards high, and I’m going to live up to them no matter what.”
Maybe you’re thinking, Sure, it’s easy for a star football player to be a strong influence for good. But what about me? Brad has signed on to play for Boise State University after his mission. What will he do when he’s just an unknown freshman?
“It’s going to be harder, obviously, because nobody knows me there yet.” But Brad says he’ll follow the same pattern he did in high school. Brad says this pattern can work for anyone who wants to set an example of using clean language:
Choose music, television, and movies that are free from inappropriate language. “You can control what you watch and listen to.”
Surround yourself with friends who don’t use profanity. “Choose the right friends, and it won’t be a problem.”
Be an example. “If people see that you’re firm in your standards, they’ll respect you. They’ll even help you keep your standards. If you’re easily tempted or overcome, you won’t be as well respected.”
If people around you swear, encourage them to stop. Use humor and kindness. “Stand up and say something. Don’t worry about what people might think. You might even help someone quit.”

Years later I began dating a woman named Rubí. She was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, though she was not active. We were together for three years when she began to feel the desire to go to church. She would ask me to go with her, but I always refused.
One day the missionaries came to our door. They gave me a Book of Mormon and left me with reading assignments. I read what they requested but felt nothing. I also attended church but was always skeptical. Even so, I felt I needed to keep reading the Book of Mormon. God was calling me again.
As I continued reading, I started to feel that the book was true. My faith was growing. When I reached 3 Nephi 13:9–13 and read the Lord’s Prayer, the Spirit flooded over me. I broke into sobs. God was calling me a third time. This time I listened.
My faith in God grew. I wanted to know more. In a short time, I read all the standard works. I continued attending church, and after Rubí and I married, I was baptized. I will never forget the joy I felt when I was confirmed a member of the Church.

Shortly after my release from naval service, I accepted an engineering position at Geneva Steel. There were few Church members in that department. The plant had been built just prior to the war, and technical people generally had to be imported. After a few weeks I learned that there was to be a drinking party. All members of the department were expected to attend. When approached, I indicated that I did not plan to attend. This shocked the person approaching me.

Soon the manager of the engineering department came to see me personally. I wondered if this would terminate my employment. He walked up to my desk and told me that he had heard that I wasn’t planning on attending his party. I told him that was right. He asked me why. I told him I was a Latter-day Saint and didn’t drink and would just be in the way. He thought a few moments and observed that I would probably be the only sober one there. Then he told me I could be very helpful to him. He asked me to serve as the chairman of the party, since I would be sober. He asked me to arrange for the dinner and the entertainment and other details. They would take care of the liquor. He told me that when the party started getting rough, my wife and I could slip out and go home. He didn’t want to embarrass us. He asked me if I could help in this way.

I decided to accept this request. The other engineers and draftsmen soon began to notice that I had become the favorite of the boss. He knew I had principles and had the courage to live them. Instead of losing my job, I made very rapid headway.

I have found in each chapter of my life that keeping my priorities and not giving into the world has been a great asset. Another way of expressing this way of life is to determine to always say “yes” to the Lord and “no” to the world.

Words fail to express the deep feelings of gratitude for the Lord and the missionaries He sent to our home. The Lord blessed me with the knowledge of the restored gospel, and I felt an urgency to share this knowledge with others. I wanted to be a missionary.
Within months, my sister Dina and I were called as local missionaries in San Salvador. This calling gave us the opportunity to go door to door to share the glad news of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and bring many people to the waters of baptism. In due time, we both served full-time missions in the Central America Mission.
My mission had a great impact on my life. I learned to rely more on the Lord, to seek the guidance of the Spirit, and to feel an overwhelming love for God’s children. My knowledge of the scriptures and my understanding of the doctrines increased. So did my desire to be obedient and to keep the commandments with exactness. My testimony of the Savior and His infinite Atonement was strengthened. My missionary experiences became part of who and what I am. Missionary work became my passion. It has impacted my life and that of my family more than anything else.

Let me tell you of one young woman who has demonstrated remarkable strength in the face of great tragedy. On April 17, 1999, a big van broadsided a car and severely injured 16-year-old Emily Jensen. Her skull was fractured, and she was in a coma for three months, and six months in the hospital. She has had to learn everything again as if from birth. It would have been easy to give up, but giving up is not in Emily’s vocabulary. She works so hard at recovery that she runs the equivalent of a 26-mile marathon every day. Her faith, courage, and perseverance have strengthened and motivated many other hospital patients.

Emily is still working very hard to regain her speech. Even so, she fearlessly asks nurses, technicians, and therapists, “Are you a Mormon?” If they reply no, she tells them in her muddled sentences, “You should be. Read the Book of Mormon.”

Emily dictated to her mother what she wanted written in five copies of the Book of Mormon that she gave to a doctor, three therapists, and a technician before she left the hospital.

Emily dearly loved one technician who had become totally inactive in the Church. They prayed together in Emily’s hospital room. In language that was difficult to understand, but with a spirit that was strong and clear, Emily told her that she needed to go back to church. That technician later wrote Emily: “I want to thank you so much for the Book of Mormon you gave me. I cried when I read what you wrote. I know someday I will love this book as much as you do.”

Emily’s life was recently brightened at Skyline High School in Salt Lake City. The student body picked her as this year’s prom queen in recognition of her extraordinary courage. Her classmates stood and cheered as she struggled to the stage of the packed auditorium, supported on the arm of the student body president.

Though she continues to go each day for therapy, Emily’s life is still defined by her spiritual identity, her goodness, her kindness to others, and her strong testimony.

I had an experience like yours. I wanted so much to be able to tell the bishop, but I thought he would have little respect for me as a member of his ward. I prayed about it for a long time. I was finally comforted enough by the Spirit to be able to tell the bishop about my problem. After I told him what I had done, he let me know that what I had done was wrong but that he still loved me and so does my Heavenly Father. He let me know that there is a way back and that is by repentance. Repentance is such a wonderful process. I beg you to give it a try. The Lord is waiting for you!

Name withheld