Gospel Story Finder

Members from all over the Church contributed to the rescue of the German Saints. President Stover was part of an event which he would call “the most beautiful and inspiring thing that has ever been my privilege to witness during my entire membership in the Church.” It began on a visit to Holland when he graphically described the suffering of the German members. Cornelius Zappey, president of the Netherlands Mission, was so moved that he asked the Dutch members if they would plant seed potatoes in their flower gardens for their former enemies. They responded enthusiastically, and in November of 1947, they sent 60 tons of potatoes to Germany, along with 96 barrels of herring. They sent another 60 tons of potatoes in 1949.

The revelation in Doctrine and Covenants 71 tells Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon to go and preach in an effort to ease unfriendly feelings that had arisen against the Church due to criticisms from members who had lost their faith. Over 100 years later, Elder Spencer W. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles had a similar experience preaching in defense of the Church.
During a visit to Otavalo, Ecuador, in 1965, Elder Kimball told the missionaries to present the Book of Mormon to the native Otavalans. However, the missionaries met resistance when Otavalans began spreading lies about them in the nearby villages, and the missionaries struggled to overcome the falsehoods.
Two years later, Elder Kimball joined a few members and missionaries in a meeting near a local bus stop. As local residents got off buses, missionaries invited them to hear from a living Apostle of Jesus Christ. Soon, about 20 people gathered. As the missionaries started their meeting, the crowd grew to more than 100.
Then Elder Kimball spoke. He told of the coming of Jesus Christ in the Americas. He pointed to the sky and spoke of the still, small voice from the heavens that announced the appearance of the Son of God, as found in the Book of Mormon. Elder Kimball recalled, “Every eye followed my motion to the sky as though the Savior were actually there coming through the thin clouds.”1
After this, missionaries kept trying to teach Otavalans. Sister missionaries taught a man named Rafael Tabango, who was baptized on July 14, 1968—the first native Otavalo Latter-day Saint. His wife, Teresa, also joined the Church. Less than 15 years later, a stake was organized in Otavalo, with Brother Tabango called as its first patriarch.

My neighbor came across the street and said, “Hey, guess what we’re doing for youth conference? We get to build two barns.”
I grunted. “Two barns? Thrill city. Whoever came up with that dumb idea? Youth conferences are supposed to be fun.”
“We’ll have fun working.”
“Get real,” I told him. “I have a hard time cleaning my room.”
Maybe the adults thought I was Laman or Lemuel at the next stake dance committee meeting. I asked them, “Whatever happened to white river rafting for youth conference? Do you really expect us to get up at 5:00 A.M. on the first three days of our summer vacation?” One of the girls on the committee decided she wouldn’t go as she’d wreck her fingernails. She threatened to organize something for her own ward. None of our complaining did any good. The stake youth leaders stuck to their plan.
A fierce hailstorm pelted Duvall, Washington, the night before the conference. “Bummer, now they’ll have to cancel our exciting barn building extravaganza,” I said sarcastically.
Miraculously, the weather cleared, and I found myself standing with 180 kids in carpenter aprons, pockets full of nails and wearing a T-shirt that read, “You Love Who You Serve.”
We were given the choice of helping to build a barn/shed or a barn/house. I picked the barn/shed. It sounded easier. We banged nails. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t awful. Ward Roney, the to-be-owner of the barn/shed was a sturdy man, weathered by long hours on the tractor. He told me his favorite sound was the belch a cow makes when she’s in a warm shed eating hay. His old shed blew down in a bad storm, and the insurance wouldn’t pay to replace it. He was either brave or foolish to let a bunch of teenagers build his shed. Surely he realized we’d never finish the huge thing. If we could do it, one observer noted, it’d be an Amish barn raising by Mormons for Catholics.
Brother Beecham, the builder in charge of our shed, held the American Homes world record for the fastest home framed. The old record stood at 36 hours, and Beecham’s crew accomplished it in four. I got a kick out of watching him stroll across thin high timbers like they were sidewalks. With the construction boom in Seattle, I knew Brother Beecham was passing up a lot of money to teach us.
Normally, when I work I look at my watch every five minutes. Before I knew it, the walls were up, and we were ready for a crane to position the giant trusses of the roof. But there was no crane. Instead of machine power, we’d use muscle power, and some of the muscles were mine. The ground crew strained to position one truss. Then three of us on the roof pulled up the point with a rope as the ground crew hoisted. We cheered when the truss was securely nailed into place. What a team. Up there, 30 feet off the ground, a great sense of brotherhood developed between the “roof crew.” It was great up there. It was fun. I really developed a closeness to all of them as we worked and sweat and hammered our thumbs hour after hour.
The first day some of the girls were afraid to hit the nails on the head. By the second day they were mean. They’d developed aim and aggression in their hammering. Unfortunately, the girls used their new skills on the boys at the pie eating contest, which turned into a pie throwing war.
I added a word to the theme, “You Love Who You Serve.” I thought it should also say, “You Love Who You Serve With.” I didn’t know 75 percent of the people the first morning. We’d lived in the same stake for years and never spoken to each other. On a construction site, you have no choice. You have to say to the person next to you, “Grab the end of that board.” “Watch your head!” “Help me nail this down.” And people were great. If you asked them for an 18-foot board they got it. True, the physical structures were impressive, but even better were the structures built between each other.
There were lag times when there was no work for me, and I thought I’d have fun if I had nothing to do. But I really amazed myself. It got so I wanted to work.
Mr. Roney told us the quality of our work was A-1, top-notch. The look on his face as this place went up taught me I’m happiest when making someone else happy.
It appeared that there was no way we could finish two such big projects in just three days. We poured on the steam. At first a few people hung around the first-aid station and in the hay, drinking pop. But even the “resters” helped when the TV and newspaper reporters came out with their cameras. We wanted to work through dinner, but after a half hour, the adults made us come down. Funny, I’ve never refused food before. Dusk was stealing precious light. There were just a few things left to do. Thirty of us stayed to finish instead of going back to the city to clean up for the dance.
That evening we had a victory celebration! We danced in a barn we had built, and it didn’t fall down. After seeing each other at our worst for three days, our appearance mattered very little. The last day we had a testimony meeting in the barn/house, and 200 people sat on benches on the top floor. The sun streamed into the room, bathing everyone in the warm blond reflection of new wood. I thought, “We built this; we really did it.” We had saved the Dazey’s and Roney’s more than $20,000.00 in labor costs.
When the sacrament came to me, I thought of Jesus Christ in a whole new way. He was a carpenter. I remembered working along with my friends and feeling something. I glanced around. It wasn’t just my friends; the Savior was there too.

Earlier this year I was greatly moved as I participated in a meeting in Lagos, Nigeria, in a building with spare concrete walls and a heavy, flat tin roof. Relief Society leaders with their priesthood advisers had been counseling together there for more than two hours. We had worked together to better understand the ways that could be employed to give strength to their important callings, to build their faith, and to help conquer the tribulation that surrounded them in that sprawling city.
As we finished the closing hymn and said an amen to a heartfelt prayer, a thunderous roar filled the room. It was rain. The deluge on the tin roof made any parting conversation impossible. Water was already coursing through the streets and splashing immediately against the door. Our meetings had been scheduled in the afternoon so that most could be home by dark. Now, as we sat waiting and wordless because of the din, it was obvious they not only faced the heightened dangers of darkness, but they would be thoroughly drenched as they returned to their homes. I thought of Alma as he waded through tribulation (see Alma 8:14–15), and then I remembered the blessing that came to him. I was struck for the moment with the somewhat similar conditions in Ammonihah for Alma and for our Saints in Lagos, Nigeria. An angel had said to Alma, “Lift up thy head and rejoice, … for thou hast been faithful in keeping the commandments of God from the time which thou receivedst thy first message from him” (Alma 8:15).
There were those in that clattering room who were going forth, as Alma did, to teach and help save others through the power of their faith. When the rain did not yield, they rose, one by one, two or three at a time. We embraced or shook hands solemnly, and they went forth. They were confirmed in their new knowledge that God’s matchless power, His mercy and long-suffering, prevented their being cut off and consigned to endless misery and woe (see Hel. 5:12). They had new courage to face, with hope, their immediate journey and their eternal future. They gave me courage too.

Perhaps you remember the story told by President N. Eldon Tanner. A young fellow came to him and said, “I made an agreement with a man that requires me to make certain payments each year. I am in arrears, and I can’t make those payments, for if I do, it is going to cause me to lose my home. What shall I do?”
President Tanner looked at him and said, “Keep your agreement.”
“Even if it costs me my home?” the man asked.
President Tanner replied, “I am not talking about your home. I am talking about your agreement; and I think your wife would rather have a husband who would keep his word, meet his obligations, keep his pledges or his covenants, and have to rent a home, than to have a home with a husband who will not keep his covenants and his pledges.” (In Conference Report, Oct. 1966, p. 99.)

Early in our married life when Sister Nelson and I lived in Minneapolis, we decided to enjoy a free afternoon with our two-year-old daughter. We went to one of Minnesota’s many beautiful lakes and rented a small boat. After rowing far from shore, we stopped to relax and enjoy the tranquil scene. Suddenly, our little toddler lifted one leg out of the boat and started to go overboard, exclaiming, “Time to get out, Daddy!”
Quickly we caught her and explained, “No, dear, it’s not time to get out; we must stay in the boat until it brings us safely back to land.” Only with considerable persuasion did we succeed in convincing her that leaving the boat early would have led to disaster.

Though Baptists, the Snow family invited members of other religions into their home, including Sidney Rigdon. Eliza’s mother and sister joined the Church. After searching for and receiving answers to her questions, Eliza was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on April 5, 1835. Shortly after her baptism, Eliza moved to Kirtland, Ohio, where she taught school and took care of Joseph Smith’s children.

On November 7, 1843, Joseph recorded that: “Mr. [Joseph M.] Cole moved the tables back into the hall, when [Willard] Richards and [William W.] Phelps called to report that the noise in the school disturbed them in the progress of writing the History. I gave orders that Cole must look out for another place, as the history must continue, and not be disturbed, as there were but few subjects that I have felt a greater anxiety about than my history, which has been a very difficult task, on account of the death of my best clerks, and the apostasy of others” (History of the Church, 6:66).

In the Western Athletic Conference indoor track meet, Doug once again shocked everyone by beating Suleiman. Some had assumed that the first victory was a fluke—a very impressive fluke notwithstanding.
This set the stage for the indoor nationals. “I knew that Suleiman would be expecting me this time, and that I would have to move earlier than I had before. So I made a move with five laps to go, almost a half mile. That was quite a race. It was rough. He ran in lane two for almost the last five full laps. He tried to pass me repeatedly. I won by four-hundredths of a second.” Less than an hour later, Doug had to run the 5,000 meters. Not knowing how much he had left, he dropped to the back of the pack. With two and a half laps to go, he made his move, swinging wide around a group in front of him. He moved into third place with a lap to go, took second on the backstretch, and kicked hard in a grim charge to overtake Suleiman. He couldn’t quite catch him, finishing second.

The next year I had a cast of students who were by no means religious. We had our problems, and I had the feeling it might be inappropriate to ask that group of students to calm down enough for prayer. I never suggested prayer before their first opening night.

It was a terrible performance. I’m not blaming anyone. We just did a poor job.

I had the cast stay after for a line rehearsal, but it took me more than an hour to go over my notes and point out what needed to be corrected by the next night. There was no mistaking that I was upset.

As we were leaving the theater, a few of the cast members were walking to the parking lot with me. One of the least religious of the group said, “Last year I heard you had prayer before performances.”

I was stunned. “Yes,” I said, “we did.”

“How come we didn’t have it this year?”

“I didn’t think any of you would want to have prayer,” I answered.

“I would,” he said without hesitation.

“So would I,” another added.

The next night we had prayer and our performance went off without a flaw. I’m not saying prayer can overcome poor rehearsals, failure to learn lines, or lack of preparation. But it can focus what a cast has going for it. It can bring them together in a unity of purpose.

In the heart of England, a town with cobblestone streets, streetlamps, and centuries-old churches, was ready for the 2019 Christmas season. Warwick resembled the perfect Christmas card with wreaths, lights, and a larger-than-life Christmas tree in the centre of town. While it is best known for its castle, where in years past it was frequented by queens, princes, dukes, duchesses and other notables, most locals are not aware of a quiet miracle that took place at Christmastime not so long ago.
In an unassuming chapel near Town Square, a faithful group of Christians from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gather each Sunday to worship together and partake of the holy sacrament. These followers of Christ pattern their lives after His teachings and strive to give of themselves and serve others.
At Christmastime, tradition requires a choir to sing, and all members of the small congregation were welcome to join and prepare to sing at this special time of year. Singing experience wasn’t required—just a willing heart and voice. Even the full-time missionaries were recruited to increase numbers and achieve a proper balance between men and women. The choir director chose a simple two-part melody with a piano accompaniment, which shared a thoughtful message of the first Christmas night.
Many members of the choir had not performed before and each was placed next to a more experienced member, to better hear how their part was sung. The choir members rehearsed together for weeks before Christmas.
On the Sunday that the choir was to sing, a young man named Tom Brannan was visiting the sacrament service with his father and happened to arrive early, when choir members were holding a final run through before singing in Church that day. Tom was invited to sing with them, and he willingly joined in. He had a nice voice, picked up the men’s part quickly and added a measure of support to the men’s section.
While waiting for the pianist to arrive, the men and women of the choir sang through their parts, together and separately. With just a few minutes to go before the service was to begin, word came that the choir accompanist was unexpectedly delayed; she was not likely to make it in time for the performance. It would be impossible for this humble group to sing without a piano. Disappointment filled the room as the choir members soon realised that they may not be singing in church that day; something they had looked forward to for some time.
As thoughts were aired, Tom came forward and said, “I don’t read music, but I play by ear, and I could try to play a few chords.” He then sat down at the piano, composed an accompaniment and a miracle was born. Tom played beautifully, the piano framing the melody. The choir director brought in the women first, and next the men—all while the piano carried the song forward.
Tears flowed freely as the words of the song filled the hearts and souls of those present. Tom’s unexpected offering brought a spirit of unity and strength. Imperfection was made perfect in that moment as the story of the first Christmas unfolded through music.
The experience sunk deep. It was a reminder that when we give of ourselves, miracles can happen. That is the true gift from God, offering our best, and being made whole through His Son, Jesus Christ.

Elder Featherstone’s childhood years were often difficult. His father had a drinking problem. “I remember that on payday my mother would look out the window, waiting for the bus to come by that would drop my dad off. She would wait and wait until the last bus had gone by. He would not come home; he would be out spending his paycheck on alcohol.

“We’d have no food in the house at all, and the next day my mother would send me to the store. I’d get our old red wagon with the tires worn off and the rims worn flat and drag it up the street as slowly as I possibly could. I’d get to the store, go in, and walk around the aisles, trying to avoid Mr. Parsons. Finally, I’d hand him my mother’s note: ‘Dear Mr. Parsons, We don’t have any food in the house. Would you mind charging fifty pounds of flour, a bucket of lard, some side pork, and a few other things? We promise to pay back every penny when we get some money. Thanks.’

“Mr. Parsons would fill the order and make out a charge slip and put the food in the wagon, and I’d drag it home. I did that more times than I can tell you. I give credit to my mother and older brothers that we paid back every single penny that we ever owed to Mr. Parsons.

Finding the official blue envelope from the Netherlands tax service on my doormat filled me with dread. I picked up the envelope and opened it nervously. Sure enough, it was a notice informing me that I was to meet with the tax inspector on a certain day.
This was the latest in a series of disappointing events that had begun when I read Malachi 3:8–12. I was not a member of the Church at the time, but I took literally the Lord’s promise that he would open the windows of heaven and pour out abundant blessings on those who bring their tithes to him. I thought of the widow who was blessed for casting into the temple treasury her two mites (seeLuke 21:1–4). I knew that God always keeps his promises. And I knew that if anyone needed his promised blessings, I did.
My financial situation was disastrous. My small company was not flourishing. I had few orders, many debts, and a sizable tax liability. And so, without a church to pay an offering to, I chose a charitable organization to which I would pay my “tithing” and offered Heavenly Father a “deal.” “I’ll donate a tithe,” I promised, “if thou wilt deliver me from my financial problems.”
But things didn’t work out as I had hoped. In fact, they grew even worse. And then my wife and I had words on the subject. She said, “I have to clean with a very old vacuum cleaner, and you give money away to charity! I am your wife; don’t I deserve your charitable donations, too?”
What am I doing wrong? I wondered. I am keeping my part of the bargain. Where are the promised blessings?
I decided to read the promise in Malachi again. When I did, I realized that I had been “tithing” in the wrong way. I realized that tithing is not a financial investment; God is not a storekeeper who gives you an article when you put your money on the counter. Tithing, I learned, must be paid out of love and gratitude—not out of a hope of gaining something for oneself.
I asked Heavenly Father’s forgiveness, and things began to go better. But now the blue envelope at my door destroyed my optimism.
With a heavy heart, I walked into the tax inspector’s office for my scheduled appointment. After we had talked for a few minutes, he said, “I have the impression that you are an honest man and that you want to pay but cannot.” He then told me he had decided to forgive my tax debt.
Five minutes later, people on the sidewalk in front of the tax building saw a man dancing with joy, arms raised toward heaven!
Some time after that remarkable turn of events, I joined the Church. And now,after many years of paying a true and honest tithe with a happy and grateful heart, I have proved the Lord’s promise as recorded by the prophet Malachi. I know that Heavenly Father answers our love and faithfulness with rich blessings. Truly he opens the windows of heaven.

“For family home evening, we’ll review our computer and game rules,” Dad announced.
“Dad, I already know the rules!” Joseph said. He was 11 and had been using the computer for years now.
“You do a good job following the rules,” Dad said. “But a review is still good.”
Joseph plopped down on the couch. He wished they would talk about something new instead.
Dad held up a poster board and marker. “OK, let’s see what we already know,” Dad said. “Joseph, what rules do you know?”
“Crash and tell,” Joseph said.
“That’s right. If you see something inappropriate on the computer, like swearing or people not wearing clothes, close the screen or turn off the computer. Then tell Mom or me right away.” Dad wrote Crash and tell on the poster.
“What else?” Mom asked.
“Don’t give out your information,” Aaron said. “We just talked about that in school.”
Joseph looked at Mom and Dad. That wasn’t one of their rules! But Dad smiled and nodded.
“Good,” Dad said. “We haven’t talked about that before, but it’s really important. Don’t give your name, your age, where you live, or where you go to school on websites or to people online. Some people use that information to hurt others.” He wrote Don’t give out info on the poster.
“How about keeping the laptop in the living room or kitchen?” Joseph suggested. He was paying attention now. Dad wrote, Computer in family areas only.
“You can’t use the computer without asking,” Elizabeth said.
“Excellent, and you have to take turns,” Mom reminded them. Dad wrote Ask permission and take turns.
“What about games?” Simon asked.
“Thank you, Simon. The rules for the computer are the same for video games and the phone and tablet too,” Dad said. “We need to avoid bad language, violence, disrespect for others, and anything that makes wrong seem right.”
Dad wrote No swearing, violence, or disrespect in games.
The family thought of several more rules and put the poster by the computer. As he went to bed that night, Joseph tried to remember everything Dad had written.
A few days later, Joseph went to his friend Darrin’s house. Darrin brought out his new video game to play. It seemed awesome at first. Then the characters went to battle, and Joseph started to feel uncomfortable. It was pretty violent. He didn’t want to play this game any more.
What if Darrin thinks I’m just a chicken? Joseph wondered. Then he remembered the rules, and it helped him feel brave.
“Hey, Darrin,” he said, “I don’t play violent games.”
Darrin looked surprised and paused the game. “Oh. I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“I just don’t feel good playing it,” Joseph said. “Can we play something else?”
“I guess,” Darrin said.
That wasn’t that bad, Joseph thought as he and Darrin picked out a new game. When they finished that one, they went outside and rode their bikes.
Joseph was smiling when his mom picked him up.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Fun,” Joseph said. “And I kept our family’s rules.”

One summer my mom and dad packed our car for a long trip. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Are we going to the beach?” “No,” said Dad. “Are we going to Grandma’s house?” “No,” said Mom. “Are we going to the mountains?” I asked. “Yes,” said Mom. “But we are not going to just any mountains. We are going to follow the pioneers’ trail to the Rocky Mountains.” “Oh,” I said. I remembered singing about pioneers in Primary, but I never thought I would get to see where the pioneers once walked. Dad drove for a long time. We saw the temple in Kirtland, Ohio. We saw the temple in Nauvoo, Illinois. We saw where the pioneers crossed the Mississippi River in their wagons. Then Dad drove our car across the plains. The sun was hot. I was glad I could ride in a car and not a wagon. “It must have been hard to be a pioneer,” I said as we arrived at the Salt Lake Temple. “It was,” Dad agreed. “But the pioneers knew it was important to follow the prophet.” “I guess that makes me a pioneer, too!” I declared. Mom smiled and gave me a hug.

“Are you the one who has been calling my daughter each week?” was the question.
The answer, from Keri Peterson of the Bountiful 29th Ward, Bountiful Utah Central Stake, was simple and direct, “Yes, I’m a captain of ten, and your daughter is on my team.”
“Thank you,” was the response from a grateful father. “Thank you very much.”
The youth of this Bountiful ward were involved in a project called Moroni’s Promise. It came in response to a challenge from Elder M. Russell Ballard given to the youth of the Bountiful 29th Ward to adopt a meaningful and significant project for the year. This challenge was brought before the bishop’s youth committee for discussion. The youth leaders decided that reading the Book of Mormon would surely be a meaningful and significant project.
One Sunday evening, all of the youth and their parents were invited to a meeting to launch Moroni’s Promise. It was the young, valiant captains of ten who gave the vision, reviewed the promise (see Moro. 10:3–5), spoke of agency and obedience, explained the program, and called for volunteers to join one of their teams.
One young captain of ten, Michelle Gardner, referred to the promise made by President Gordon B. Hinkley to all the members of the Church who read the Book of Mormon. He promised those who read daily that “there will come into your lives and into your homes an added measure of the Spirit of the Lord, a strengthened resolution to walk in obedience to his commandments, and a stronger testimony of the living reality of the Son of God” (Ensign, Nov. 1979, p. 9).
Appealing to the youth for whom she now felt a keen sense of responsibility, she added her own personal testimony. “I know when I read each day, especially when I study and don’t just skim over what I’m reading, I do feel a greater desire to live the commandments and to have the Spirit of the Lord in my life.”
Individualized packets were provided which included the quote from Moroni printed on parchment ready for framing, a system for recording progress, recommended target dates, helpful study methods, a promise of celebration stations, and a letter to be sent to a trusted friend or relative requesting support and continuous encouragement during the coming months as they read the Book of Mormon. An application form was also provided requesting the parent’s signature as well as the signature of a member of the bishopric.
Each participant was invited to add his or her own signature as an indication of willingness to be diligent in endeavoring to reach the goal of having read the entire Book of Mormon within the set time limit. This could be accomplished by reading approximately 16 pages per week. A captain of ten also signed the application indicating a willingness to be in touch each week to determine progress and provide encouragement to each member of his or her team.
Individual progress was not a public matter. However, increased interest was awakened when the aggregate “scores” of the teams were recorded on an attractive chart that was periodically displayed in the chapel foyer with pictures of various activities.
As eager participants finished the last verse of Alma 63, “And thus ended the account of Alma,” they would rush, regardless of the hour, to Sister Bonnie Guthrie, who helped with the records, assisted in making calls for captains as needed, and dispensed T-shirts to each one finishing the book of Alma. The T-shirts with “STOMP” (for “Students Trying Out Moroni’s Promise”) printed in bold letters across the front provided the incentive that urged many through the pages of Alma.
A celebration station was an event scheduled at regular intervals along the way to give strong incentives and provide continuous encouragement to the captains, who in turn, inspired their team members as they made their weekly contacts. The captains were to then give an accounting to the specialist in a brief weekly meeting following sacrament meeting. Many, many extra calls at various times were required to accomplish this necessary follow-up.
As the group completed Alma, a celebration station was scheduled. The snow had been falling all night, and it was unseasonably cold, but nothing would daunt the plans for the scheduled tree planting celebration. A flowering cherry tree had been selected. The hole was dug, and all ward members were invited to gather at the church.
Robert Davis stood before the group holding a scroll containing all the names of those who at that time had finished reading Alma. He rolled the scroll, put it in a plastic-coated container, sealed it, and then respectfully placed it in the hole at the base of the tree and explained, “You’re probably wondering why we are planting a tree. If you will recall in Alma the planting of a seed which became a tree has meaning because of the analogy to a growing testimony.” He then read Alma 32:27–41, “But if ye will nourish the word, yea, nourish the tree as it beginneth to grow, by your faith with great diligence, and with patience, looking forward to the fruit thereof, it shall take root; and behold it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.”
On Mother’s Day following sacrament meeting, the entire ward was invited to gather around the flagpole for yet another celebration station. Richard Newman and Mike Bettilyon, both captains of ten, unfolded the beautifully designed flag with the large dark blue letters “Moroni’s Promise” centered in a white open field.
There were other names on that flag also. Those who had finished the Book of Helaman had added their signatures to the flag as an official Mother’s Day record. Bishop Bradford reminded everyone of the stripling warriors who did not fear death for they had been taught by their mothers that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them (see Alma 56:47). The captains attached the flag and pulled the ropes raising it to the very top of the long silver pole. Hearts were opened and feelings were tender as expressed by a younger member of the group, who whispering to a friend close by, said, “My name is on that flag,” and his friend responded reverently, “So is mine.”
By now the flowering cherry tree planted earlier was bursting into bloom nearby as a reminder of growing testimonies.
What difference has all this effort made? There have been 120 readers, 38 adults and 82 youth, participating in Moroni’s Promise.
Thirteen-year-old Wid Covey, standing before an audience, volunteered his testimony, “I’m thankful for this Moroni’s Promise program because it helps me understand the scriptures. When I sit down with my dad to read the Book of Mormon he helps me understand about it also. I’m thankful for Michelle Gardner. She calls me every week, and it helps me a lot and she encourages me.”
Sister Margaret Kirkham reported, “Our whole family looks forward to Richard Newman, our captain of ten, coming to encourage us. This project has been a great influence to our entire family.”
Bishop Bradford reflected on the past eight months. “It has made a great difference. There are few activities that could have unified our youth as well as this. I can’t say that all our youth now have a strong personal testimony of the Book of Mormon, but it’s a super beginning. With the help of our inspired specialist, a great number of young people will be better missionaries in every aspect of their lives, and all of them are better prepared to withstand the evils of the world.”

Nathan, a neighbor boy, came around to play with my son Michael. Later I took them to the park. Michael rode his bike to the park and promised Nathan that he could ride on the way home. But when the time came to leave, Michael found it hard to keep his promise. He rode his bike home himself, feeling very unhappy. Nathan wasn’t too pleased either. After Michael had time to think about it, he agreed that Nathan could have a go on his bike after all, so off they went. Afterward Michael told me, “I liked sharing because Nathan is my friend, and it made me feel happy.”

Then my husband graduated and found a job that took us to another state. I had lived in many parts of the United States, but this move left me feeling terribly out of place. Our new ward was in a fairly wealthy area. My husband and I had a lot of school debt and very few possessions. We drove an old car, our clothes were outdated, and our furniture was secondhand and mismatched. The disparity was painfully obvious to me.
It wasn’t that I coveted what others had. I simply couldn’t imagine that they could see me as a worthwhile person when I had so little.
As the months passed, I had great difficulty making friends in the ward. I had been fairly comfortable in our wards in college, but now I felt intimidated and isolated from the friends and family who valued me.
A very long year and a half passed. I felt more insecure and unaccepted than I had felt since being a teenager in junior high school. I gave up even trying to fit in.
Then a ward member named Julie, a sister whom I greatly admired, began reaching out to me. She was 10 years older than I, a woman of great faith, and respected by everyone. I couldn’t believe she really wanted to get to know me, but I was lonely enough to accept her invitation to go jogging with her and some of her friends each morning at a nearby track.
Every day, Julie arrived having just finished morning prayer and scripture study. She was always filled with enthusiasm about the gospel, the scriptures, and the insights that came to her as she read. Running with her was like going to a devotional or a seminary class. And she seemed genuinely interested in me; she listened without judgment to my frustrations and fears.
I found Julie’s enthusiasm irresistible. Following her example, I became dedicated to a program of regular, serious scripture study for the first time in seven years.
I began to feel the Spirit in my life on a daily basis, and I found that I was able to follow the Spirit in fulfilling my calling as a Beehive adviser. I also realized that even though I’d been physically present in the programs and meetings, I had been spiritually inactive for many years.
Then one day, I walked into church a little late. Julie was leading the music, as she did every week. I looked up at her face. Her smile was wonderful, radiant, somehow filled with light. She looked directly at me, and I was overcome with an overpowering sensation of warmth and peace and joy. I was surprised. I knew I was feeling the Spirit very strongly, but I didn’t understand what the feeling meant.
I pondered throughout Sunday School and sacrament meeting, all the time cherishing this feeling of great peace and joy. By the end of the meeting, I understood the reason for this witness. I realized that Julie, being filled with the Spirit, actively sought to convey the love of the Savior to the congregation by the light of her countenance (see Alma 5:14, 19).
And then, into my mind came the whispered words that changed my life: “You must learn to be like that.” I was stunned. Suddenly my perspective shifted. I was to learn to smile like that and to convey the love and kindness to others that Julie had extended to me. For the first time, I understood that if I had the love of Christ in my countenance, no one would care what my clothes looked like, or my car, or my house.
My life was very different after that. The next month I walked into homemaking meeting, where I had always felt hopelessly out of place; I looked around at the room full of faces as if for the first time. It seemed that everyone there was either my friend already or needed a friend. I saw no condescension or condemnation in anyone. Nor was I looking for it. I was looking outward for what I could give.
After that, I continued to mature in terms of my motivation and expectations. As I felt more and more of the Spirit in my life, I desired to have the strength and faith to do anything the Lord might ask.
About this time, I attended a fireside where Julie spoke; she talked a lot about prayer. I took her counsel to heart and decided to start praying morning and night with real sincerity. I got up earlier than before, scheduled 15 or 20 minutes just for prayer, and treated it as an appointment with the most important person in my life. I found that I could get answers and guidance in a way I never had before.
I began to study the Atonement intensively. And I studied the doctrine of the change of heart and the meaning of being born again. As I studied, I developed a profound reverence for the Savior, for the power of his atonement, and for its efficacy in saving me from all of my failings and weaknesses.
One day I read Mosiah 5:7–8: “Ye shall be called the children of Christ … ; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.
“And under this head ye are made free, and there is no other head whereby ye can be made free.”
Now I understood the words made free. I was being released from so many personal fears, inadequacies, and negative feelings that it seemed as if tangible shackles were falling from my hands and feet. My posture changed as I began to see myself as a person who had every reason to stand tall. My children asked why I was smiling so much. My husband asked why we didn’t quarrel anymore. My mother and brothers simply asked, “What happened?”
I spent three years in that ward where I had initially felt so uncomfortable. My last 18 months were a wonderful, fulfilling time. Sometimes I faced difficult trials, but I also felt an assurance that the Lord was mindful of me and that the painful experiences were for my growth.
By the time I left that ward, I not only felt loved, I also felt trusted and honored by the members there. I had had many humbling, spiritual experiences as well as opportunities to serve, to speak, and to teach. The ward had become a cherished family.
Julie remains a dear friend. Her gift for radiating light continues to touch my life and the lives of many others. Her example showed me how to reach for the Savior, the source of the light. And this has given me the means to lift and love and comfort many people. I believe that if I continue to progress, someday, I, too, will be filled with his love and receive his image in my countenance.

The winter passed, and finally, early in May, the relief wagons began to roll in. Of the various communications Brother Jones had received, one critical letter from Brigham Young had not arrived. Loading and shipping of the stored goods could not commence without it.
For days they waited, becoming increasingly anxious. Finally Brother Jones sought the Lord in prayer to know how to proceed. He recorded the following testimony: “Next morning without saying anything about the lack of instructions we commenced business. Soon some one asked whose teams were to be loaded first, [and] I dictated to my clerk. Thus we continued. As fast as the clerk put them down, orders would be given, and we passed on to the next. We continued this [way] for four days. … All the teams were loaded up, companies organized and started back [to the valley]” (Daniel W. Jones, Forty Years among the Indians [1960], 107).
The 17 young men were loaded on the last wagons departing to the Salt Lake Valley, where they would be reunited with their families and loved ones.
Brother Jones arrived later to report to President Young, feeling not a little uncertain how he would be received. Should he have waited for the President’s written orders? As everything unfolded, it was learned that President Young had indeed dictated a letter of instructions, which was never received. Dan carefully presented his detailed report. It was a testimony to him to find that the inspiration he’d received in Wyoming was exactly the same as in the prophet’s letter.

When I first met Bert Braack in the early 1930s he was nearing the end of his search. He had taken the Bible admonition, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Matt. 7:7), as his personal invitation to prayer, and it had brought him a challenging answer.
Bert’s mother died when he was nine, and his father, an atheist who wanted no part of religion, ran preachers off with a gun. The large family of children received no religious and little moral training. Drinking, smoking, and swearing were a way of life with them.
Yet as Bert grew to maturity and left home to make his way in the world, he says there was a deep craving within him. He wanted desperately to know if there was a God. And if so, what was that God like?
He began attending different churches and reading the Bible. The words in Matthew prompted him to ask for himself, and so, like the youthful Joseph Smith, with an intense desire to know the truth, he offered his first prayer: “If you are there, God, let me know and I will do what you want me to do.” And as he knelt, he says, “A great peace engulfed me, my heart burned within me, and a joy such as I had never known flowed over me. I felt as if I were completely immersed in a great spiritual essence.”
For three days this feeling remained with him, and during all that time, he says, “I hardly felt my feet touch the ground. The pure love of God seemed to completely encompass me, and it was wonderful. During this time I loved everything. I had never cared much for children, but now a great love flowed out from me toward them. I had cursed the rain; now, drenched in it, I loved every minute of it. If this is a small taste of the love of God that fills the celestial kingdom, no wonder the lamb and the lion can lie down together and there is nothing to hurt or make afraid.”
After three days this great joy left him, and he felt he had lost the most precious thing in the world. In great agony of soul he prayed to God to restore it, but he was left on his own. Only now there was a great difference—he knew there was a God. He knew God was real, for he had felt his love and power. He knew God would answer sincere prayer, for his prayer had been answered.
Then came a time of soul-searching. He had made God a promise. He would keep it. He would do what God wanted him to do—if only he could find out what it was. Determined to put his life in harmony with the truth, he first felt God would want him to change his life, so he quit smoking and drinking and tried to overcome other faults.
Then, surely God would want him to learn the truth. He began to study the Bible. Later he read the Koran, works on Buddha, Confucius, and other religious philosophers. The religion shelves at the public library became his schoolroom. He could not rest until he gained knowledge of the truth.
“The local protestant minister was a sincere man who wanted to baptize me,” Bert recalls, “but I gave him a strange answer. I told him that it would do no good for him to baptize me because he didn’t have the authority. I don’t know why I felt this way, but I knew it was true.”
At this point Bert arranged to move to Raymond, Washington, where he remembered seeing many churches. There he began questioning the ministers. “What is God like? Describe him to me. If I met him walking down the street would he be a man? Is he six feet tall, or more?”
The answers were not satisfying. He was told he could not meet God, that God couldn’t walk, that he was not any size but was something that filled the universe.
One day he noticed a small tract at his sister’s home called Rays of Living Light. He read it excitedly and asked his sister where it came from. “If you had been out on the desert for days, dying of thirst, and someone gave you a drink of clear, cold water, you would feel as I did when I read that tract,” he says. “I knew it was the truth. It was as if I were dying of thirst for the truth, and now I had received a small cup of it. I wanted more.”
Bert’s sister told him that her doctor, who was something called a “branch president” in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, had given it to her. She thought they were called “Mormons,” too.
Soon Bert had some well-marked tracts, a Book of Mormon, and an invitation to attend church. It was at the doctor’s office I first met my husband, Bert Braack. I next saw him in church. He attended all the meetings. His searching questions kept the members busy studying for the answers.
At last he had found someone who could explain God to him. Joseph Smith’s description of God and Jesus rang true. He could understand a God with a real, tangible body—a God who could walk and talk, one he could meet face to face and who could love with the great love he had felt once before. After a long search, he knew he had found the church with authority to baptize him, and since his immersion one autumn day in the cold Willapa River, his testimony has never faltered.