Gospel Story Finder

Two boys in the Olathe Second Ward, Olathe Kansas Stake, recently completed unusual projects in order to earn their Eagle Scout Awards.
Quilting might not sound like a typical Boy Scout activity, but after Michael Ross visited a shelter for abused children, he wanted to give the children something comforting they could call their own. Mike enlisted the help of the Scouts, Young Women, and Relief Society in his ward to create 30 quilts for the children.

It was still early on Sunday morning as Dad called the family together.
“Where’s Mom?” six-year-old Katie asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“That’s what I need to talk to all of you about,” Dad answered. “I took Mom to the airport this morning. Grandpa called late last night to tell us that Grandma is very sick. Mom has gone to help them.”
“Is Grandma going to die?” Melanie asked, her eyes filling with tears.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Dad put his arm around her. “Grandpa doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong. Mom will call us after she arrives and has a chance to talk to the doctor. Meanwhile, there is something we can do to help.”
“We can pray for Grandma,” Katie said, kneeling and folding her arms.
“Exactly right, honey,” Dad said. “And we can fast for Grandma today, too. Let’s begin our fast with a prayer. Would you offer it for us, Katie?”
The little family knelt together, and Katie prayed, “Heavenly Father, please bless Grandma. Bless Grandpa, too, so he won’t worry too much. And help Mama so she can come home soon. We are fasting for them today.”
Everyone felt peaceful as Katie finished the prayer and they prepared to go to church.
At home after church, Dad pulled two big photo albums from the shelf and told the children about some of the pictures. They talked all afternoon about their many happy memories of Grandma. Then, when it was time to end their fast and have supper, they knelt to give thanks for the day and to once again ask for a special blessing for Grandma.
Mom telephoned just as the children were getting ready for bed. “Grandma is going to be just fine,” she said. “I’ll stay to help Grandpa for a few days while Grandma rests. I’ll be home by Friday.”
After everyone had told Mom about their day and their fast for Grandma, they gathered again for family prayer. “Before we pray,” Dad said, “tell me what you learned today about fasting and prayer.”
“Heavenly Father answered our prayers,” Rachel responded.
“That’s true,” Dad said. “We know that He always answers our prayers. Sometimes the answer is yes, as it was today.”
“Sometimes it’s no, “ Melanie put in, “like when I prayed for my team to win the tournament and we lost.”
“That’s right, Melanie,” Dad said. “Sometimes the answer is ‘no.’ And sometimes the answer is ‘not yet—just wait and be patient.’ But Heavenly Father always answers our prayers in the way that is best for us. Did you learn anything else?”
Katie said, “Fasting helped me feel close to Heavenly Father.”
Natalie added, “Fasting today wasn’t as hard as it usually is. I didn’t even feel hungry! Is that because we were fasting for Grandma, not just going without food?”
Dad nodded. “Fasting helps us learn to control our bodies and it helps us develop faith. When we are baptized, we make a sacred promise to Heavenly Father that we will bear one another’s burdens and comfort those who need comfort. We have surely kept that covenant today as we fasted and prayed for Grandma.”
That night, family prayer was a prayer of gratitude—for Grandma feeling better, that Mom was coming home soon, and for keeping their baptismal covenant through fasting and prayer.

Six-year-old Catherine sang as she followed Joseph and his plow down the long brown furrows, dropping yellow kernels of corn into the newly turned soil:
One for the cutworm,
One for the crow,
One to rot, and
One to grow.
Joseph called over his shoulder, “If Alvin doesn’t get back with some money, all that corn will go to the land agents. And from what I hear, they’re not about to share it with a cutworm or a crow or anything else.”
Catherine had heard her father talk about land agents, but she wasn’t sure just what they were. “What are land agents, Joseph?” she asked.
Her brother pulled the ox to a halt and explained, “They’re men who sell property. If there is a drought or your crops don’t sell and you can’t pay the mortgage money, they come and take the farm back.” Then he paused for a moment, remembering his father’s dawn-to-dark labor when they’d first cleared the land of trees to plant crops.
The whole family had helped tap the thousand sugar maple trees in the spring. Joseph also remembered the split-wood chairs and baskets and the straw brooms his father had made to sell to help pay for the farm. His father had even hired out as a hand for other farmers to bring in precious money. But still there wasn’t enough.
Catherine brought her brother back from his recollecting. “Are they going to take our farm, Joseph?”
“It looks like it, unless we can raise some more money. Alvin is still out on his job as a carpenter’s helper with a crew that’s building log houses, and Mother has been selling a lot of her painted oilcloth covers.”
“I’ve helped Mother sell cakes and gingerbread and root beer on public days,” Catherine said, beaming.
“Well, we’ve all helped. But it hasn’t been enough.” Joseph sighed as he slapped the reins against the rump of the ox. “I wish I could do something more.”
“You’ve been helping to clear trees and plowing and planting the corn and pumpkins. That’s a big help.”
“Sure. But we need money. And we need it right away.”
Catherine let out a deep breath and sat down on the broken black earth. “Will we have to let the land agents take our farm?” she asked.
“If we can’t pay all the mortgage money, we will. And the law backs them up. But it just doesn’t seem right after we’ve spent two years clearing trees from sixty acres of land and planting crops and building a four-room log house besides. They’d only turn around and sell it again for a heap of money, and we wouldn’t get a penny for all the improvements we’ve made.”
Catherine understood now why some folks said the land agents were really land robbers. The thought was still in her mind when a large black crow flew down and began to scratch for the newly planted corn. Her frustration erupted. Skirts flying, she chased after the bird, shaking her fist.
“Get out of here you old domineker!” she yelled as the bird flapped off in panic. “I won’t let you take our corn!”
Young Joseph had to laugh at the sight of her, and his laughter skipped across the clearing into the open window of the house. His mother was just lifting the lid on the cooking pot in the fireplace when she heard it. She smiled and felt a sudden sense of relief. How she wished she could stir some of it into the venison stew. They needed all the laughter they could get these days.
She left the stew sputtering against the pot lid as she called to her family. “Supper’s on!”
Later after supper, Joseph’s father, as always, felt for his spectacles. When his hand found the lower right-hand pocket of his vest, that was the signal for a reading from the Bible and for family prayer.
That night the family had an extra long prayer. Father Smith thanked Heavenly Father for His “mercy which endureth forever.” Then he pleaded for help in somehow obtaining the money that was needed. When all members of the family had added their amen, they sang the usual hymn:
Another day has passed and gone,
We lay our garments by—
The song was interrupted by a loud knock. Mr. Smith opened the door and invited a neighbor from down the road to come in.
“Much obliged, Joe. I came to ask if you’d let me hire one of your boys for a few days. I need to dig a well.”
Alvin was away working and young Joseph knew his father needed Hyrum to help cut trees. “I could do it, sir,” he said eagerly.
His father smiled. “Joseph’s able. He’ll give you a good day’s work for a day’s pay.”
“I know your boys are good workers. They’ve worked alongside their pa until they’re better than most men. That’s why I’m here. Young Joseph will be fine.”
Joseph was so happy that he had to take a big breath to keep from shouting out loud: The Lord is surely opening up the way. Things are going to work out. I’m sure of it. He was so sure that he wasn’t a bit surprised when Alvin arrived home a few days later with the money he had earned. Just the same, it was a tense moment when the whole family gathered to count their savings. Is it enough? they wondered.
Joseph held his breath as the cash was totaled. It was enough; they’d made it. Tears and laughter mingled as they realized that Alvin’s earnings added to what Joseph and the others had been able to raise would save their farm!
(To be continued.)

In 2014, while serving a full-time mission, our family experienced an unexpected turn of events. When riding down a steep hill on a longboard, our youngest son fell and sustained a life-threatening injury to his brain. As his situation deteriorated, medical personnel rushed him into emergency surgery.
Our family knelt on the floor of an otherwise empty hospital room, and we poured our hearts out to God. In the midst of this confusing and painful moment, we were filled with our Heavenly Father’s love and peace.
We did not know what the future held or if we would see our son alive again. We did know very clearly that his life was in God’s hands and the results, from an eternal perspective, would work out for his and our good. Through the gift of the Spirit, we were fully prepared to accept any outcome.
It was not easy! The accident resulted in a two-month hospital stay while we were presiding over 400 full-time missionaries. Our son experienced a significant loss of memory. His recovery included long and difficult physical, speech, and occupational therapy sessions. Challenges remain, but over time we have witnessed a miracle.

Once when my grandfather and I were sitting in the backyard of this little ranch out in the country at sunset we heard this awful screaming sound. I asked him what was making that horrible sound. Grandfather said it was the Peacocks settling in for the night. And he said there was a reason for that screeching and he told me another fable.
On the eighth day after the creation of the world all the animals that the Lord had created on the land were gathered together at daybreak in a meadow. They spoke among themselves on the names that Adam had given them and which was the strongest, the swiftest, the tallest etc. The subject came up of which one of God's creatures was the most beautiful. As if on cue, just as the sun was rising over the hill, the peacock comes over the crest and fans his tail feathers. Every color of the prism shines brilliantly about him and the animals gasp in awe. As he walks down to the crown they part and make a pathway for him. Coming up to them they see how iridescent and vivid each color his, it is as if he had caught the rainbow in his feathers.
He walks to the edge of the crown and stands next to a little brown sparrow and the contrast is painful. He says to the sparrow, "Do you not think that I am the most beautiful creature the Lord has created?"
"Oh yes brother Peacock surely you are the most beautiful of all God's creatures." And the sparrow bowed his little head to the ground in reverence and humility. But while he had his head bowed low to the ground he happened to notice the legs and feet of the Peacock. His legs were stick like and a ugly color of bluish-grey. And the claws were grotesque looked horrible. "Oh brother Peacock have you ever notice your legs and claws?"
"What ever are you talking about?
"Your legs and claws are not very pretty." So the Peacock gazed down upon his ugly legs and his grotesque claws and screamed in agony for surely they were the ugliest of all God's creatures. And while the Peacock screamed in horror the little sparrow flew up and away to enjoy his life.

Steven and Robert Van Wagenen, Crescent 8th Ward, Sandy Utah Crescent Stake. Steven, 17, is a senior in high school and Robert, 15, is a sophomore.

At 15, Robert is not old enough to get a work permit, but he mows lawns and does weeding for a landscape contractor. He earns $4.00 an hour and usually works six hours a day in the summer. Robert had some music tapes he wanted to buy and planned those into his budget.

Estimate
Actual
Income
$200
$200
Expenses
tithing
20
20
savings
80
80
music tapes
40
40
entertainment
30
30
Scout camp
30
30
total
$200
$200

Robert made a realistic plan and was able to meet his goals. He usually cashes his paychecks at the grocery store and divides the money he plans on using into envelopes. He then takes his savings straight to the bank. “If I let it sit around, then there isn’t quite as much to put into savings. Once it is in the bank, I won’t touch it. I like putting money in.”

I recently started receiving the New Era when I turned 12. Whenever I feel sad or angry I turn to this magazine. One particular article caught my eye. The article was “Evaluate Your Style” (Jan. 2002). These young women set an example in never giving up the dreams they wanted. They came up with designs for modest dresses, a logo, and went through with a presentation to a clothing store. I respect and admire that. I learned a lesson from this article. I hope to follow their examples and take action in the things I want to happen.Meg DeYoungOgden, Utah

Let me share a story about how a young woman discovered what it is that allows us to know joy even as we are afflicted, and who it is that makes that joy possible. The students in my Book of Mormon class here at Ricks a few years ago were working on an assignment on the Savior's atonement. They were to study, then teach the doctrine to someone else, and then apply the atonement to their own lives. This had been a stretching, difficult assignment for Heidi. She was in the middle of typing her paper summarizing her findings and describing her own experience when she made her discovery--when her landscape began to thicken with green. She wrote, "I am sitting here typing my paper, but I am having a hard time seeing the words on the page because of the tears. It has just hit me as I have been typing, that the Savior made his atonement for me, that He loves me enough that He would do it for me alone." Heidi found out how the Savior feels about her. That knowledge is where her joy comes from. That joy is the core of her testimony. Everything else is built on that.

Growing up in a small village in Côte d’Ivoire, Elder D. Martin Goury dreamed of becoming a clergyman and serving others.
In October 1992, while in London, England, learning English and getting an education, he met Latter-day Saint missionaries. The missionaries, one of whom was the only native French-speaking missionary in London, gave Elder Goury a copy of the Book of Mormon in French.
He started reading the book and soon received a witness of its truthfulness. When a new pair of missionaries came to his apartment a few months later, he joined the Church. “I remember being very happy,” he said.
His joy increased as the missionaries taught him about the priesthood. “They explained the meaning of the priesthood and how I could use that to serve other people. For me, that was my dream coming true,” Elder Goury said. “I was delighted.”

To find real happiness, we must focus outside ourselves. Many have come into the Church—or at least have come to know and respect the Church—because someone made the effort to reach outward. I share with you a treasured family experience which had its beginning back in 1959, when I was called to preside over the Canadian Mission in Toronto.
Our daughter, Ann, turned five shortly after we arrived in Canada. She saw the missionaries going about their work, and she too wanted to be a missionary. My wife demonstrated understanding by permitting Ann to take to class a few copies of the Children’s Friend [now called the Friend]. That wasn’t sufficient for Ann. She also wanted to take with her a copy of the Book of Mormon so that she might talk to her teacher, Miss Pepper, about the Church.
Just a few years ago, long years after our return from Toronto, we came home from a vacation and found in our mailbox a note from Miss Pepper which read:
Dear Ann:
Think back many years ago. I was your schoolteacher in Toronto, Canada. I was impressed by the copies of the Children’s Friend which you brought to school. I was impressed by your dedication to a book called the Book of Mormon.
I made a commitment that one day I would come to Salt Lake City and see why you talked as you did and why you believed in the manner you believed. Today I had the privilege of going through your visitors’ center on Temple Square. Thanks to a five-year-old girl who had an understanding of that which she believed, I now have a better understanding of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Miss Pepper died not too long after that visit to Salt Lake City. How happy Ann was when she attended the Jordan River Utah Temple and performed the temple work for her beloved teacher to whom she had reached out so many years ago.

On one occasion, a young woman and I went out together to visit a less-active member of her class. The young Laurel president said before going, “I won’t know what to say.” I explained that I wouldn’t either, but in answer to our prayer, our Father in Heaven would be with us, and then we would know what to say. As we approached the door, we prayed again that we could feel the Spirit and be prompted in what to do and say. The door was only opened a crack at first, but gradually it opened wider, and eventually we sat talking with the young girl. She was home alone. This less-active daughter of God gradually began opening her heart as she had opened the door.
“I don’t have any friends,” she admitted.
“How about friends at church?” I asked.
“Oh, they’d never take me back,” she said in a tone of despair. “I left the Church to be with a friend, and then he left me.”
At once the Laurel president—who said she was afraid she wouldn’t know what to say—reached out, touched the hand of her friend, and said with eagerness, “Oh, we’ll take you back. We’ll take you back.”
At that moment I saw evidence of spirit speaking to spirit with a message stronger than words. It was a message of love. The class president reached the heart of that young woman like no one else could. She knew what to say.

On Friday, July 6th, as we concluded a week of an incredible, wholesome recreational activity with 50 of the 74 in our posterity at Lake Powell, we were taking the houseboat back to Wahweap Marina. Suddenly there was a mother’s frantic scream: “Stop! Stop the boat!” As I hurried down the hall, I saw that the back gate of the houseboat was fully open, and Londyn—an angelic, blonde, five-year-old granddaughter—was nowhere to be seen. Everyone on board jumped into action. Her mother, Krista, was trying to explain through her sobbing that she had heard a scream and a loud thud noise that she thought was Londyn bumping off the boat or hitting the water. Everyone was searching frantically. I reached the back and searched the visible area.
All that I could see were the three small, dinghy boats and the ski boat in tow behind us, but that was all that was there. There was no blonde hair in the water, no tiny body struggling. Every mother there was in tears, her own mother repeatedly screaming out for Londyn. Every second was agonizing as panic seemed to grow towards certain fatality. The mother collapsed to her knees in a state of utter despair, disbelief, and instant sorrow: “Oh, please, God, do not let this be real! Do not let this be happening! Please! Please, oh Londyn!” Her words rent my soul with anguish.
Krista is my lovely, tender daughter-in-law. My thoughts went to my son John, who had gone in on another boat. I wondered how we could possibly explain to him that Londyn was gone, that our sorrows, no matter how deep and real, could not bring her back. O ye fair one, how is it that ye are gone?[1]
This was a scene of anguish and sorrow that I have seldom felt: tears and groans and such a desire for the ability to turn back the clock just five minutes, to not have this be our reality.
Suddenly, life changed. We thought the entire boat had been searched, but my angel-inspired daughter Kim shouted through rejoicing tears that she had found Londyn.
She had found her in a small bathroom with a faulty doorknob that was very difficult to open. The mother and daughter were reconnected, and the painful heaviness of what seemed to be, melted slowly as everyone clutched each other in tearful, relieved embraces.

When my grandma passed away, I felt really sad about not being with her anymore. It was hard to not have her here.
I was attending a church at the time, but I felt that I was missing something. I wanted to know more about where my grandma would go after this life. One day I decided to pray and ask God for help.
I received an answer a couple of days later when I met two missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In our first meeting, they taught me that Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, have a plan of happiness for each of us and that death is not permanent. I decided to keep meeting with the missionaries, and a few weeks later I made the decision to be baptized. A month later my mom and my brother were baptized too.
Now I’m almost 17 years old, and I am so excited to serve a mission one day and work to bring people closer to Christ—just as the missionaries did for me.
Being apart from my grandma is hard. But knowing that families can be together forever because of Jesus Christ and the work done in temples brings me peace and joy!
Lucas R., São Paulo, Brazil

At last Benito reached Oaxaca. It had taken him three days to walk down the mountain from the hut where he had lived with his uncle for the past nine years. Benito was only three years old when both of his parents died, and he could not remember either of them. Nor could he remember having had enough to eat or to wear. Benito spent each day herding his uncle’s sheep near the pool at the bottom of the towering snow-capped peaks while he dreamed of some day going to Oaxaca to find his sister Josefa who lived there. In Oaxaca there might also be hope of good food, decent clothing, and a chance to go to school. There was so much Benito wanted to know!
His bare brown feet were blistered from the three-day journey. His clothes were almost in tatters. Benito carried with him only a gourd from which to drink, and he ate the few berries he picked from the bushes along the way.
When Benito reached the city he found that the people in the market place spoke a language he did not understand and so they could not answer any of his questions. Benito Juarez was a Zapotec Indian, and he had never heard Spanish spoken before he reached Oaxaca, Mexico. For a moment he almost wished he were back with the sheep. But when Benito remembered how often his uncle had beaten him and how he had sent him to find a sheep that had either strayed or been stolen, Benito pushed back his thin shoulders and kept walking and asking questions until he found someone who helped him find his sister.
Nearly thirty years later Benito was elected governor of Oaxaca. In 1861, when he was fifty-five years of age, Benito Juarez was elected president of all Mexico.
The story of the ragged shepherd boy who was always proud of his Indian heritage, who ignored the cruelty of his schoolmates because he was so eager to learn, and who suffered many hardships all through his life is a thrilling one to read. It is well known to children throughout Mexico, and a statue of this great man stands in almost every city and village. Even streets and schools and cities have been named after him.
Benito Juarez lived during a very crucial time. Many historians believe the dream of liberty and education for all that Benito carried with him down the mountain from his uncle’s hut did more to shape the destiny of Mexico than anything else. Benito Juarez is honored as the liberator of his country, and these words he spoke long ago are still found painted on walls throughout Mexico: “For nations, as well as for individuals, respect for the rights of others is peace.”

The Lord also gave me encouragement in my own learning process about the Sabbath with many small miracles along the way. One remarkable experience I will share with you, hoping that it will encourage you in a similar approach in your life. I was taking that certain class that all majors have at least one of—the one that strikes fear into the heart of every student when even mentioned. We were preparing for the final exam and had been given a study page of terms and questions. At the encouragement of the teacher, we had formed study groups, farmed out research, and shared with each other. But on the day of the test, I still had not covered all the questions. We were told that we would be given two questions that we would write about for 30 minutes each, and one question that we would write about for an hour. Therefore, I needed to be prepared with an hour’s worth of material for every question on the study list. The task was overwhelming!

The morning of the test came, and an hour and a half before the test I was on my knees pleading with the Lord for help to know how to best use that last hour and a half of study time. I told the Lord that I had kept first things first in my life according to my commitments and that I now really needed His help. As I prayed, I looked down the study list lying on the bed in front of me. I was impressed to study one particular question. Every other time I went by that question, I skipped it. Because it was just so big, I thought, “No one with a human bone in his body would ask that question.” I similarly rationalized it again and went on past it. But as I finished the list, nothing else stood out to me. I started down the list again from the top, and when I came to that same question, it really hit me over the head.

“Ray, wake up! That’s the question!” I said to myself. I spent the next hour and a half outlining an answer for that question and then fleshing out the outline from my class notes and from the textbook.

When I arrived at the test site, the teacher announced that he had changed his mind. There would be only one question on the test, and we would need to write two hours on the one question. Well, you can guess which question it was! I was so grateful for the Lord’s guidance. I got a good grade on that test, and an hour and a half earlier I would have flunked it. I knew where that gift came from and why.

After my mother passed away, life began to feel too much to bear. I finally turned to my bishop for advice. What he told me wasn’t exactly what I expected, but it changed my life. He invited me to rely on Heavenly Father by praying, reading the scriptures, and trusting that the Savior would be there for me—trusting Him so much that I would feel my burdens become lighter. Two and a half years later, I know that there is a constant peace available to all of us because of who our Savior is and what He did for us.
Whitney W., 19, Arizona, USA

Family members, especially spouses, probably have the greatest need for trust. And they should be able to have the greatest confidence in one another. Yet there are those who violate that trust. I still remember two men I worked with nearly eighteen years ago. Upon learning that I was engaged to be married, they proceeded to tell me some extremely personal things about their wives. I didn’t want to hear it, and I got away from the presence of these men as quickly as I could. I wish I had had the maturity to tell them kindly that I didn’t want to hear such things and that their wives would likely be horrified at this betrayal. But even then I did have the maturity to see the enormous wrong these men were doing and to vow that I would never betray my wife in such a way.

Getting in the “in crowd” was like trying to thread the eye of a needle with a cob of corn. It felt impossible! I had tried out for cheerleading, the drill team, the school chorus group, and the art club—I failed at all of them. I really cared about how other people perceived me, so I continued my quest for popularity and decided to join a club my school calls the “Mice Squad.”
Mice Squad is for girls, and Rat Squad is for boys. Together they make up the Pep Club. They attend the games and cheer from the stands, giving the cheerleaders a boost to get the audience excited. All the “who’s who” in the popular world of my high school were in this club.
On the way to the first meeting, my heart raced. This was it. This was my chance to be among the elite, the faces that everyone knew. And it didn’t even require singing or physical exertion. All it took to be in was school spirit, and I had plenty of that. I knew that beyond the door were all the popular faces, and I was about to become one of them.
Smiling, I pushed open the door only to see surprised looks when I walked in. Sarah [name has been changed], who was pretty popular, was leading the meeting. I didn’t know her very well, although during our sophomore year my father sometimes drove us to seminary together. I was glad to see her, as there were no other LDS girls in the room.
First Sarah shared with us how fun Mice Squad was going to be. As she talked, I became more delighted that I could be involved. I could just see myself at football games cheering, painting my face, and having fun with my peers.
After talking about the games, Sarah gave me an uncomfortable look and began talking about the parties. The first party was the initiation. She told us where and when it would be held. And then, to my horror, she explained that we had to drink alcohol to be in the Mice Squad. With this “requirement” so clearly stated, I sat there in shock.
I knew I had a choice. I felt impressed that I would have to leave them, or the Holy Ghost would leave me. A darkened feeling started in, but I waited to see if anyone else would leave. Then Sarah looked straight into my eyes and said, “If anyone reports us, we’ll come after you.” Immediately, I left the room alone, but the Spirit was still with me. I knew I was saying goodbye to my dreams of popularity.
It took me a long time after that meeting to realize that I had value, even though I was invisible to most of my peers. I realized that while I had chosen the “out crowd,” it was the right crowd. I knew the only opinions that truly mattered were my own and Heavenly Father’s. And I knew we were both smiling at my decision.
Now, after marrying in the temple and having three children, I still sometimes look through my autographed high school memory book. I always smile when I read the short note that says, “Thanks for being a girl with good works and for sticking up for what you believe in. Don’t let anyone sway you.”
Perhaps I wasn’t so invisible after all.

But before I tell you what he says, we need to go back and catch up on the story of the Alma family and how Alma the Younger got to this point in his life.
Alma’s father was also Alma, commonly referred to as Alma the Elder. We first learn about him as a 20-something-year-old priest [2] in the courts of Noah, a wicked Nephite King.
While working there, Alma the Elder is converted by the words of the prophet Abinidi and, because of his beliefs, has to run into the wilderness and hide from his former colleagues, the other priests, along with a group of about 450 others. They conceal themselves at a place called the Waters of Mormon, and later in a land called Helam, but are eventually discovered by the Lamanites.
To make matters worse, the leader appointed over them by the Lamanites is a man named Amulon, also a former priest of Noah, who still had an axe to grind with Alma. Amulon wanted Alma and his people to suffer.
Now, it’s unclear how much of this Alma the Younger experienced. We don’t know if he was born in the wilderness, or while in Lamanite captivity, or maybe later in the land of Zarahemla. There is a clue, though.
In Mosiah 24:8 when describing the difficulties the people of Alma are experiencing under Amulon’s rule, Mormon makes a point to say that Amulon “[caused] that his children should persecute their children,” [3] maybe referring to Alma the Younger. If he was alive during this period, it couldn’t have been easy for him, facing daily harassment and bullying from Amulon’s kids.
Later, after the Lord miraculously delivers the people of Alma from the Lamanites, they rejoin the Nephites in Zarahemla. Alma the Elder, now close to 50 years old, [4] is asked to organize the Church throughout the land.
It’s safe to assume, because of what we know about Alma the Elder, that home life for Alma the Younger included family home evening, regular scripture study, family prayer, and youth activities. On paper, Alma the Younger should have had all the righteous influence a person needed.
Which is why, at first, it might be a little surprising to learn, when we first meet Alma the Younger in Mosiah 27, that he, along with the king’s sons, don’t believe in the gospel and are among a growing faction of young adults in Zarahemla who aren’t interested in church.
At least some of this group don’t just agree to disagree with Church members; they seek to destroy the Church and lead the people astray. Alma convinced many to his way of thinking and, as it says in verse 8, became a great hindrance to the prosperity of the Church of God. [5]
I’ve wondered, with a father like Alma the Elder, why Alma the Younger had so much resentment towards the Church.
Was it difficult to have a father who was such a strong spiritual leader? Could it be because of the mistreatment and abuse he experienced at the hands of Amulon’s children when he was a kid, if in fact he was alive for some of this experience in the wilderness? What emotional scars did he have from those moments and how did they shape his view of the world and his relationship with God?
Well, you know the rest of the story. An angel visits Alma the Younger and commands him to stop. Alma goes through a very painful and accelerated repentance process and becomes a completely different person. He focuses his energies on trying to repair the damage he caused, and after a time he replaces his father as the high priest of the Church.
Now we’re all caught up and back to Alma 29 where he finds himself, an experienced minister, frustrated that he can’t do more to convince people of the truth. It’s right here, disheartened, he says to himself, “O that I were an angel” [6]—or maybe, in other words, “it was angel that helped me, and if I was an angel, maybe I could save more people.” But then he stops himself and says, “I ought not to harrow up in my desires the firm decree of a just God.” [7]
He’s quick to point out how critical choice is to God’s plan, and here’s the line that’s very interesting: “For I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire.” [8]

When Tom Holdman, whom I mentioned previously, was working on the San Antonio Texas Temple, he wanted to use agate stone in the stained glass windows. Agate looks like a rough rock on the outside, but it can have a vibrant, translucent appearance inside that lets light shine through, highlighting its beautiful, banded layers.

When Tom visited the temple site and mentioned his intention, the missionary overseeing the construction emotionally led Tom to a trailer full of rough stones. He explained that while digging the foundation, they had encountered essentially a cave full of rocks. Without quite knowing why, the construction missionary followed a prompting and instructed the crew to pull out and save all the stones from the cave before proceeding with the dig. This action resulted in significant teasing from the crew—because who saves a pile of rock? But now, standing in front of the trailer next to Tom, the missionary knew why he was led to do so. These stones, with their beautiful agate interiors, were carefully preserved in the earth, ready to come forth when God needed their vibrant quality to shine forth from His holy temple.

Later, Tom came across Isaiah’s prophecy about temples in 3 Nephi 22:12: “And I will make thy windows of agates” (also Isaiah 54:12). Today, Tom tries to include a piece of this prophesied agate in every temple he works on.