Gospel Story Finder

Wash and brush pet dogs and take them out for a walk; polish silverware; establish a mending service to sew on buttons and repair torn sleeves; help neighbors haul trash to the dump; wash shower curtains and repair their torn eyelets; form an oven-cleaning brigade that will also make refrigerators and sinks sparkle, for a modest fee; form a garage cleaning troupe. Two high school football players talked their fathers into lending them the money to purchase some wrecked cars and a piece of ground to store them on. They built a shed for an office, removed serviceable parts from the cars, inventoried them, and established a solid reputation for providing dependable used parts. When school reconvened, they sold their business at a profit.

Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.

Last year, I was a freshman in high school and was having a really stressful year. I was involved in many extracurricular activities that took up much of my time and energy. One of these activities was being on the speech team. In speech competitions, you can choose to compete in several categories. I was competing in two categories that year.
Toward the middle of season, however, I realized that I was not being as successful as I wanted to be because of the stress I felt trying to prepare for both events. I wanted to quit the category I enjoyed least to pursue the one I enjoyed the most, but I was unsure if that would make my coaches think I wasn’t committed enough. I talked to my dad, and he encouraged me to ask the Lord for advice.
I felt that talking with Heavenly Father about this would be silly because it was such a small issue, but I heeded my dad’s counsel anyway. I prayed very hard, asking God to help me know what to do. I told Him how stressed I was, and I let Him know that I needed comfort and guidance. As I finished my prayer, I could feel warmth spreading over me. I thought of the scripture that says, “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee withersoever thou goest” (Joshua 1:9).
This scripture comforted me more than any scripture had before. I learned that no problem is ever too small for Heavenly Father and that I can turn to Him at any time. I decided to continue on with both categories. And at the end of the season, I was most successful in the category I had thought of quitting.

“A friend in my ward was less active. He was having family problems and stopped coming to church and Mutual. One week, another friend and I went to invite him to church. He said he didn’t want to come, but we kept at it every week. More people from our quorum started joining us and we had 2–5 people every week inviting him to church. After a year of invitations, he came with us! He has been coming to church more than before and back to Mutual activities! Never give up because the best things take time!”
Trent D., 16, Utah, USA

But Lucy Mack was no carbon-copy Christian. Although knowing God through scriptures and prayerful communion, she doubted the religions that claimed to speak for him. Early in marriage she showed double qualities of devotion and independence. A severe respiratory infection brought a high fever, and Lucy’s life hung in the balance. Weakened and semi-conscious, she was informed by her shaken husband that the doctors expected her to die. But that night powerful prayers stirred within her weakened frame. She sought life in order to “bring up my children, and be a comfort to my husband.” Making her “solemn covenant” with God, she heard a voice assuring her (in scriptural language), “seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” Her solid recovery began from that hour, as she vigorously assured her watching mother that “the Lord will let me live.”7

At a stake conference before Caleb’s passing, I spoke with a General Authority about our experience with Caleb. After he acknowledged the exhausting effort needed to care for Caleb, I thought he would encourage me to faithfully persevere in the service and sacrifice I was providing. Instead, his next four words transformed my relationship with Caleb forever.
He simply said, “You are being exalted.”
The Lord taught a similar principle when Joseph Smith, while incarcerated in Liberty Jail, prayed for relief from the great suffering he and the Saints were experiencing. The Lord responded with a comforting promise:
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8).
Similarly, Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles testified: “Adversity is not evidence of the Lord’s disfavor, nor a withdrawal of His blessings. Opposition is part of God’s plan to refine us and prepare us for an eternal, celestial destiny (see 2 Nephi 2:11).”
All this time I thought we were taking care of Caleb. In reality, God, through Caleb, had been taking care of us. The Lord was performing a miracle on me, on my wife and children, and on all those who met Caleb.
Caleb could have quickly returned to heaven, but instead he brought heaven to us for seven remarkable years. In our toughest times, God never abandoned us. With faith, courage, and hope, we learned that His blessings often shine brightest during our trials. Caleb’s constant wink was a tender reminder of God’s profound love for us all.
The author lives in Utah.
Like the Moody family, how can you “purposely choose hope and trust in the Lord” in your own trials?

Many years ago an invitation had come to me to leave our home in Utah, where I was teaching seminary, and move to Arizona to teach institute in Tucson. My wife and I had prayerfully decided this was the right thing to do. It was a little frightening to leave parents, friends, and security and move to a desert land where we knew no one.

We traveled to Tucson to find our new home. Upon our arrival in Tucson we met with a real estate agent. After days of searching we could find nothing in our price range that even came close to meeting our family’s needs—as far as location, neighborhood, schools, and so on. I wasn’t used to “desert landscape.” The homes had cactus and rock gardens instead of trees and grass lawns. My faith that this move was the right decision began to waver. We were out of options and out of time. The agent suggested that we pick one or two of the homes we liked, revisit them, and make a decision. The problem was that I hadn’t liked any of them. I was depressed and heartsick. I needed help. I couldn’t sleep.

In the motel room, in the middle of the night, I turned to the scriptures for help. I read from several places, including Hebrews 11, about faith. Nothing seemed to help. Then it happened. I was reading Ether 12 in the Book of Mormon about faith. I came to verse 32. I read, “And I also remember that thou hast said that thou hast prepared a house . . .”

I stopped. I looked up. The Lord had spoken to my soul. A house was prepared. I didn’t know how or where or what was to happen, but I knew a house was prepared. I didn’t say anything to my wife.

The next morning we met the agent and drove to a house out on Bear Trail that my wife remembered as being a possibility of something that might work. As we drove up on a rock driveway, an enormous reptile dropped off a saguaro cactus right in front of the house and scurried off into the desert. I remember thinking, “Is this reptile a future playmate for my young children?”

We surveyed the house. Debbie went inside while I checked over the outside.

I noticed the roof shingles were corroded from the leaking swamp cooler. The cedar fence was propped up by two-by-four boards. There was a crack in the foundation. The swimming pool was filled with black algae.

I thought, “Well, this is it. We need to decide.”

No one was near, so I knelt in prayer. I begged for the Lord to let me know if this was the “house prepared.” As I opened my eyes and arose from my knees, I saw a magazine stuck in a bush. Could the magazine contain direction? I went to the bush and opened the magazine. It was a pornographic magazine. I closed the magazine, put it back in the bush, went into the house, and announced to my wife, “This is not the house.”

My wife said, “How do you know?”

I said, “It’s a ‘bush’ thing. I’ll explain later.”

We then returned to the agent’s car to check out one new listing. En route to the new listing we passed through a neighborhood that reminded me of our home in Utah. There were sidewalks, lawns, and children playing. The street had such a good spirit about it. I asked the agent if there was anything for sale in this area.

She said, “No.”

We rounded a corner, and I saw a house with a “for sale” sign.

I asked, “What about this one?”

She said, “I have no idea. It is not listed.”

We copied down the number and made a call. The agent asked the owner why it wasn’t listed. She said they were planning to sell but that the home wasn’t ready to show. But for “some reason” her agent had come early that morning and posted the “for sale” sign. Our agent asked if we could come see it. She agreed to let us come right then.

After we pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, I said to my wife, “This is the house. I know it. I couldn’t be any more sure than Moses and the burning bush.”

She looked at me and said, “This bush thing again?”

We loved the house. Through the agent we made an offer. We returned to the motel to wait for the agent’s call. I was sitting by the swimming pool at the motel. The agent finally called and told us they had accepted our offer. I was ecstatic. I said I wanted to take pictures of the home to show our children, but I had no idea of the address of the property. I asked if she could give it to me.

The agent said, “Do you have something to write on?”

I did, and she gave me the address.

The address was 1509 South Burning Tree Avenue.

I said, “Burning Tree as in Burning Bush?”

She said, “Yes.”

I about fell in the pool.

A house had been prepared. The Lord had spoken to my soul through Ether 12:32.

During my mission, I got to see so many people change for the better because of the gospel. And it filled my heart with joy every day. But every time my companion and I taught families, I was reminded of my own family, especially my mother, who was not a member of the Church. Every preparation day, I tried to encourage her through my emails to meet with the missionaries. I prayed that Heavenly Father would prepare her heart to receive the gospel.
I was still on my mission when the inspired change occurred regarding missionaries’ communication with their families.1 When I first heard the news, the Spirit let me know that this was an opportunity to invite my mother to learn more about the gospel. I felt a lot of joy about that change and that feeling. During the week, I asked the Lord to help me know what He would have me share with her.
When preparation day arrived and I saw my mother through my computer screen, I had a strong impression that we should say a prayer. I expressed that feeling to her, and she agreed. During the video call, I explained to her the main message I was trying to share as a missionary: that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. I testified with all my heart that I knew it was true. I also invited her to pray and ask God about these things to know for herself. We finished our conversation with a prayer that she offered. We both felt the Spirit so strong that it pierced our hearts. After the call, I sent a referral to the missionaries in her area.
I waited anxiously for the next week to hear from her again. Just as we had done the first time, we started our video chat with a prayer, and then I listened to the Spirit to know what to share with her. We did this for weeks. Eventually, to my surprise, she started to meet with the missionaries. And I noticed a new glow in her eyes.
When I returned home, I went with my mother to her lessons with the missionaries. In one of those lessons, she, with a smile on her face, expressed her desire to make covenants with the Lord. I was shocked to hear how she had received the answer that the gospel was true! Again, the Spirit filled the room and testified to our hearts that we were witnessing truth.
And so, just a few weeks after returning home, I witnessed one of the greatest miracles of my mission: my mother entered the waters of baptism and made a covenant with Heavenly Father.
Tears ran down my face when I saw her go down into the water. When I hugged her afterward, we were both feeling a lot of emotions, but mostly we felt God’s love for us. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I felt like God hugged me and welcomed me. I know that He was waiting for me.”
As I heard my mother’s words, my testimony was further strengthened, and I knew then with all my heart that Heavenly Father hears our prayers and can help us share the fruit of the tree with others—especially our own family.

“Nathaniel, would you be a narrator in the Primary program in sacrament meeting?” Sister Mitchell asked before sharing time started.
Nathaniel hesitated. He really wanted to say yes, but sometimes he stuttered, especially when he was nervous. How could he narrate the whole program?
“Maybe,” he said. “But I s-s-tutter.”
Sister Mitchell smiled. “I know. We’d love your help, though. You’re the oldest one in Primary, and the other kids look up to you. I know you can do a great job.”
“Th-th-anks.” Nathaniel was glad that Sister Mitchell believed in him. Still, he didn’t know if he should say yes. What if he stuttered in front of the whole ward?
Later Nathaniel and his family gathered in the living room to talk about what they’d learned in Church that day.
“How was Primary, Nathaniel?” Dad asked.
Nathaniel sighed. “Sister Mitchell asked me to be a narrator in the Primary program. I want to do it—especially since I’m l-l-leaving Primary soon. But I d-d-don’t know if I can.”
“Hmm,” Dad said. “Are you worried you’ll stutter? It’ll be OK, even if you do.”
Mom put her arm around him. “It’s your choice,” she said. “We’ll pray for you.”
“Thanks,” Nathaniel said.
He thought about it the whole next week. By Sunday he’d made up his mind.
“I’d like to be a n-n-narrator for the Primary pr-pr-program,” he told Sister Mitchell in Primary.
“That’s great,” Sister Mitchell said. “Thank you! That will be a big help.”
For the next month, Nathaniel worked on his part. He said his lines over and over until he’d memorized them. But sometimes he still stuttered.
One afternoon he was practicing a really tricky word. “I c-c-can’t d-d-do it!” he yelled in frustration.
Mom walked in and sat down on the couch next to him. “I know it’s hard, but you can do it,” she said. “Do you know the story about President Heber J. Grant learning to play baseball?”
He shook his head. What did baseball have to do with stuttering?
“When President Grant was young, he wanted to play baseball. None of the other boys wanted him on the team because he couldn’t throw the ball very far,” Mom said. “So he saved up his money, and he bought a ball. Then he practiced until he could throw the ball as well as anyone. Eventually he made the team.”
“But playing baseball’s n-n-not the same as s-s-stuttering,” Nathaniel said.
“No, it isn’t,” Mom said. “But President Grant had a challenge just like you do, and he practiced and practiced. And you know what? He did great even though it was hard for him.”
“Mom, I want to do m-m-my best, and I have been practicing a l-l-l-lot. But what if I s-s-till s-s-tutter?”
Mom smiled. “Doing our best doesn’t mean doing things perfectly. When we work hard and ask Heavenly Father for help, we are doing our best. It’s OK if you stutter, but don’t let it stop you from trying. Dad and I will be proud of you no matter what.”
Nathaniel kept practicing his lines every day. And he prayed for help to be brave. At the final practice for the program, he said his part and only stuttered a few times. He was ready.
The day of the program, Nathaniel said a quick prayer for help. When the program started, he felt warm inside. He knew he could do his best—stuttering or not.

Valentina Aranda, 33 years old, feels blessed to have lived all her life in the same neighborhood in Rome, a city loved throughout the world for its history and art. Her family comes from many different parts of Italy, which enriches her life with varied traditions. She had a promising career in marketing that she set aside to be a full-time mother to her two daughters. Below she shares the story of her conversion at age 21.
It all started with the Book of Mormon, which I saw in my friend’s library. The book made me very curious, and I felt drawn to it. One day I picked it up and began reading it—but it didn’t make sense to me. I told this to my friend’s mother, who said that I should pray before I read it.
The next evening, I prayed and started reading at the beginning of the book. It seemed to be a different book from what I had read the day previous, and I felt something I had never felt before. I talked about it with my friend and told her I would like to go with her family to church the next Sunday.
When I arrived at the church, I immediately felt at home. It was fast and testimony Sunday, and a very strong spirit descended upon me. I’ll never forget that Sunday. That morning I met the missionaries, who began helping me to know the truth. Those two angels were a great gift, and they are still dear friends today.
But my belief in Joseph Smith as a prophet was the greatest, strongest, and firmest testimony I had. I knew right away that he was a prophet of God and that a great mission was entrusted to him, and after the lesson with the missionaries where I learned about the Restoration, I decided to be baptized. Five weeks after my first time attending church, I entered the waters of baptism. How exciting it was!
The Church gave me a new life. I am happy and secure in my decision; I am sealed to my husband and daughters; I have new friends, the truth, the scriptures, the temple, and knees that now know how to kneel to pray.
I await with anticipation the temple here in Rome. I know that it will be a great blessing for me and for many, many brothers and sisters who are waiting for it.

By the time I turned 12, I was a 5-foot 10-inch social disaster. Towering over my friends was the bane of my adolescence. I didn’t want to stand out—at least not that way—so I compensated by slouching. As a result, Mother was constantly urging me to “stand up straight.” Well, I didn’t want to stand up straight then, but I do now. For we have all been admonished to “stand up” (2 Ne. 8:17) and to stand as a witness (see Mosiah 18:9) so that we may “stand blameless before God at the last day” (D&C 4:2). I can find absolutely no scriptural injunction to slouch in Zion. Instead, we are repeatedly told to get on our feet, to “arise and stand up” (3 Ne. 20:2).
As a teenager I did not realize that blending in with the crowd would never be my lot. Nor is it yours. For as women of God we must stand tall so that we will stand out from the rest of the world. Only in doing so may we hope to find joy. For finding joy and standing tall, not in feet or inches but as ambassadors for the Lord, are directly connected.
My family has been reminded of this recently in a very poignant way. I have 17 nieces and nephews, who are a pure delight. We have hiked and biked and fasted and prayed together. And recently we have cried together. A few weeks ago we suffered a crushing loss when an accident took the lives of two of my sister’s children—Amanda, who was 11, and Tanner, who was 15. Because we have lived together in love, we have truly wept for the loss of them that died (see D&C 42:45).
Our friends in our hometown wept with us, most of them nonmembers, and we knew their hearts might never be more open to truth than on the day two caskets rested in our little Kansas chapel. So we dedicated the funeral entirely to testifying of Christ and the restored gospel. Afterwards many told us how moved they were by what they heard and by what they felt. Some have even asked to learn more. Now, we don’t know if anyone affected by our children’s deaths will join the Church. But this we do know—that standing up for what we believe and teaching the gospel to friends who had never before been willing to listen helped soothe our pain and bring us joy as a family.
In this world, the only true joy comes from the gospel—the joy that radiates from the Atonement and from ordinances that transcend the veil, and from the Comforter that salves our souls. Recently my 11-year-old niece Aubrey, whose father died five years ago, was asked by a nonmember friend why she wasn’t sad about the deaths of her father and, recently, her cousins. Aubrey’s reply was classic: “Not sad? Trust me, we are sad, but we know that we will be together again, so we don’t worry as much.” As a family we’ve no doubt cried as much, but we don’t worry as we would if we hadn’t felt the transcendent reach and healing power of Jesus Christ. The gospel is “beauty for ashes” (Isa. 61:3); it is “the oil of gladness” (Heb. 1:9); it is such good news!
Though our children are gone for now, we have the glorious reassurance that we haven’t lost them. But what about our Father’s children, our brothers and sisters, who are lost and who face not only physical but spiritual death? The gospel of Jesus Christ is all about people. It’s about leaving the ninety and nine and going into the wilderness after those who are lost. It’s about bearing one another’s burdens, with the ultimate burden anyone can bear being walking through this life without light. Hence the Lord’s latter-day plea:
“The field is white already to harvest; and it is the eleventh hour, and the last time that I shall call laborers into my vineyard. …
“… Wherefore, thrust in your sickles, and reap with all your might” (D&C 33:3, 7).
Ancient prophets foresaw a day “when the knowledge of a Savior [would] spread throughout every nation, kindred, tongue, and people” (Mosiah 3:20). That day has come. And it is our turn to thrust in our sickles and help with the harvest. That we are here now is no accident. For aeons of time our Father watched us and knew He could trust us when so much would be at stake. We have been held in reserve for this very hour. We need to understand not just who we are but who we have always been. For we are women of God, and the work of women of God has always been to help build the kingdom of God.
When in premortality we accepted our Father’s plan, said Elder John A. Widtsoe, “we agreed, right then and there, to be … saviors for the whole human family. … The working out of the plan became … not merely the Father’s work, and the Savior’s work, but also our work” (Utah Genealogical and Historical Magazine, Oct. 1934, 189). Then, when we were baptized here, we renewed our commitment to—and our covenant with—the Lord. No wonder President Gordon B. Hinckley has declared that “if the world is going to be saved, we have to do it. … No other people in the history of the world have … received a … more compelling mandate than we [have] … , and we’d better be getting at it” (“‘Church Is Really Doing Well,’” Church News, 3 July 1999, 3).
Sisters, we have work to do. The Prophet Joseph charged the Relief Society with the work of saving souls (see History of the Church, 5:25), for it is our very nature to nurture and to search after those who are lost. And yet, President Spencer W. Kimball lamented that there was a power in Relief Society that had not “yet been fully exercised to … build the Kingdom of God” (“Relief Society—Its Promise and Potential,” Ensign, Mar. 1976, 4). For all the good it has done in the past, Relief Society has yet to help move this latter-day work forward as it must. Sisters, the time has come to unleash the power of righteous happiness that exists among women of God. The time has come for us to be anxiously engaged in the work of saving souls. The time has come for the sisters of Relief Society to stand with and for the prophet in helping build the kingdom. The time has come for us each to stand tall and to stand together.
Standing tall begins with our own conversion, for when we taste the gospel’s “exceeding joy” (Alma 36:24) we want to share it. The casseroles and quilts we have made to relieve suffering are splendid acts of kindness, but no service—I repeat, no service—compares with that of leading someone to Christ. Do you want to be happy? I mean really happy? Then nurture someone along the path that leads to the temple and to Christ.
The most effective way to share the gospel is to live it. When we live like disciples of Christ should live, when we aren’t just good but happy to be good, others will be drawn to us because we are “distinct and different—in happy ways,” as President Kimball prophesied (“The Role of Righteous Women,” Ensign, Nov. 1979, 104). Happy about the way we’ve chosen to live, happy because we’re not constantly reshaping ourselves in the world’s image, happy because we have “the gift and the power of the Holy Ghost” (1 Ne. 13:37), happy to stand tall so that we will stand out.
Every time we strengthen our own testimony or help someone else strengthen theirs, we build the kingdom of God. Every time we mentor a newly baptized sister or befriend a wandering soul without judging her or invite a nonmember family to home evening or give a Book of Mormon to a colleague or lead a family to the temple or stand up for modesty and motherhood or invite the missionaries into our homes or help someone discover the power of the word, we build the kingdom of God. Imagine how it lifted my sister’s spirits when she read this journal entry Tanner had made just before he died: “Thanks, Mom and Dad, for teaching me about Christ.” What builds the kingdom more than raising up a child to the Lord?
With the exception of those serving full-time missions, we needn’t don name badges or knock on doors to help build the kingdom. For though some would portray us as dowdy and dominated rather than the dynamic, radiant women we are, no woman is more persuasive, no woman has greater influence for good, no woman is a more vibrant instrument in the hands of the Lord than a woman of God who is thrilled to be who she is. I like to think of us as the Lord’s secret weapon. If we did have name tags, I would want mine to read: “Sheri Dew, Woman of God, Busy Building the Kingdom of God.”
Imagine what would happen in this Church if every morning 4.5 million of us got on our knees and asked our Father who He needed us to reach out to that day. And then imagine if we did it! Imagine if we consecrated our energy and our focus en masse to the greatest service of all, that of leading our sisters and brothers to Christ. Imagine what will happen when we mobilize the sisters of Relief Society to stand together to help build the kingdom. We will see the awakening and arising of a sleeping, slouching giant.
Tonight I invite you to stand tall, to thrust in your sickle and join in this work with vigor. I invite you to rededicate your life to building the kingdom. To reach out to someone who has wandered. To take a new member under your wing. To consider serving a mission with your husband. To look and pray for missionary moments. To make a difference in someone’s life spiritually, especially the members of your own family. None of us have to reach everyone. But what if we all reached someone? And then someone else? And so on. President Hinckley has asked us to “become a vast army with enthusiasm for this work” (“Find the Lambs, Feed the Sheep,” Ensign, May 1999, 110). As we do so, we will become one of the mightiest forces for good this world has ever seen. For we, the sisters of Relief Society, are women of God. And the work of women of God and the work of the Relief Society has always been to help build the kingdom of God. I believe that we can do more to help our priesthood leaders than we have ever done before.
In my nephew’s priesthood quorum, just a few hours before he died, Tanner said this: “You know, if I were to die soon, I would want my funeral to be a missionary farewell.” My prayer tonight is that we can be equally clear about our mission as women of God. This isn’t just a really nice church that teaches really nice ideas so that we can live really nice lives. This is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, endowed with His power and charged with carrying His truth to the ends of the earth. I love our Father. And I love His Son. And I have come to know for myself that this is Their work and Their glory and that we are the most blessed of all women to have such a vital part in it. May we lift our “voices as with the sound of a trump” (D&C 42:6). May we find joy as we stand tall and stand together. And may we “cheerfully do all things that lie in our power” (D&C 123:17), and then stand still to see the arm of God revealed as His work goes forward boldly and nobly until “it has … swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done” (History of the Church, 4:540). In the sacred and holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

DEREK REDMOND: When I think of the doctrine of the acceptable sacrifice, I recall Derek Redmond’s 400-meter race in the 1992 Olympics.

About a third the way into the race, Redmund pulled a hamstring. He grabbed the back of his leg and fell to his knees, grimacing in pain. The crowd was stunned. What happens next brought them to their feet. Derek Redmund got up and began to hop on one leg toward the finish. Then a man from the crowd pushed through the guards to join him. It was Derek’s father. He put his arm around his weeping son and they crossed the finish line together.

Derek Redmund did not win his heat, but in a deeper sense, he did win because he laid his all on the altar of Olympic glory. And though Olympic judges may not award gold medals for effort, surely the God of Heaven does, for He looks not “on the outward appearance, but . . . on the heart (1 Sam. 16:7). We can see an image of our Father in Heaven in Derek’s father. Our Father wants us to do our best. He cheers us on. But ultimately it doesn’t matter if we win the race. We have won in his eyes if we have tried our best. And if we stumble and fall, Our Father is there to help us hobble to the finish line and to celebrates our performance with crowns of glory that will never fade.

But we must lay our all on the altar, as Derek Redmund did.

In the spring of 1832, Joseph and other Church leaders traveled to Missouri to visit and teach the Latter-day Saints living there. After finishing their work, Joseph Smith, Sidney Rigdon, and Newel K. Whitney boarded a stagecoach to return to Ohio.
It is good to rejoice with the people of God.
While traveling at full speed, the horses pulling the stagecoach got scared. Brother Whitney tried to jump, but his coat got stuck, and he caught his foot in the wheel. He broke his leg and his foot. Joseph jumped out of the coach unhurt.
Brother Rigdon traveled ahead while Joseph stayed with Brother Whitney for four weeks and took care of him while he recovered.
Joseph and Brother Whitney ate and slept at an inn. One day after dinner Joseph started feeling very sick.
He had been poisoned.
Brother Whitney gave Joseph a blessing.
Joseph was healed immediately, even though the poison was very powerful. He knew Heavenly Father had blessed him.
Thanks be to my Heavenly Father.
Though Brother Whitney had not moved from his bed for nearly four weeks, Joseph asked him to start traveling again the next morning. Joseph promised him that the journey would go well.
If you agree to start for home, we will take a wagon to the river, and there will be a ferryboat waiting to take us across.
Then we will find another boat waiting for us, and we will have a prosperous journey home.
I will go.
Joseph and Brother Whitney started on their journey home.
It went exactly as Joseph had promised.

You’d have to have been me that day, lying on my bunk bed, before you could feel how I wanted a dog. I’d sneaked into the house and was lying there for about an hour before Mother knew. She stood in my bedroom doorway for a minute or so before she came over and lay down beside me and asked, “What’s the matter, son?”

Sometimes you can say, “Oh, nothing,” when Mother asks that. And other times you can’t. This was one of those other times. It was as if she had her arms around me and was looking into my eyes with all her might. Only she was just lying there beside me, waiting.

So I told her all about how I’d got into a fight up at Barney’s, and Tom and Scott said if I couldn’t play fair I could just go home. So I went. Talking about it to my mom made me cry. So while I was at it I told her what the real trouble was. “All this wouldn’t have happened,” I bawled, “if I only had a dog.”

Mother didn’t ask me whether or not I’d really been playing fair and what a dog had to do with it. She just lay there very still and listened. So I said some more. I told her that I hated school and that nobody liked me. I asked her how she would like to be seven years old and dumb and ugly and awkward and have people laugh at her when she used big words. I said I didn’t fit in this world anyplace, and God must have sent me to the wrong planet. The more I talked the more things I thought of. It was as wild and wonderful as any of my stories about Joey, and I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed howling so loud and feeling so miserable. Finally, I blurted out something I hadn’t really meant to say. “Besides,” I yelled, “There’s no such thing as Joey!”

Mother’s eyes filled with tears, and I was so sorry. I stopped crying right off and said quickly, “Please don’t tell Daddy—he’d be just sick.” That was a lucky thing to say because it made Mother smile right through her tears. And it struck me that this was the time to ask about a dog.

“Mother,” I said, wiping my eyes, “I’ll do anything in all my life if you’ll only get me a dog. I’ll do housecleaning forever. I’ll practice my piano lesson night and day. I’ll never ask for any more candy. I’ll do anything!” I was trying hard not to cry again because my mom never gives us what we bawl for. “I need a dog to love,” I whispered, “and most of all I need a dog to love me back.”

Mother started to explain once more about dogs in the city, and when she got to where she says that Tom and Scott had both wanted dogs, my mind was jumping with words, and I hoped the right ones would come out. And they did. They were magic words that changed everything.

“Mother,” I said, “I’m Rulon. And I’m a different kind of boy.”

She stopped right in the middle of what she was saying, and this time she did put her arms around me and looked into my eyes with all her might. She looked for so long I could hardly breathe. Then she said quietly, “Rulon, we will get you a dog.”

We got him the next day at a pet shop—a brown and white Pomeranian puppy, round and furry, with great, dark eyes and a waggly tail. You should have seen Tom and Scott when we brought him home.

“Spoiled kid! How come Rulon gets a dog?” they said almost together.

Mother seemed baffled for an answer, so I tried the words that had worked once before.

“Because I’m a different kind of boy,” I answered.

Their mouths dropped open. And they just stood there staring at me and my pup. Then Scott said to Tom, “He can say that again.” And they both snickered. So I did say it again.

“I’m a different kind of boy,” I sang out, “and Joey is a different kind of dog. He’s really mine. All mine. But you can pet him. And maybe when you say three times, ‘There’s such a thing as Joey’ he will be your dog too.”

They weren’t snickering anymore. They were laughing a real laugh, and I laughed too all the while they were saying, “There’s such a thing as Joey. There’s such a thing as Joey. There’s such a thing as Joey.”

Veronica’s story, Madrid, Spain
When Veronica (pictured below) was 17, her twin sister died in her arms. Three years after her sister’s death, on her own and struggling through life, Veronica started going for walks to work out her feelings of sadness. She had always believed in God, so one day while she was walking, she prayed, “Lord, why are you doing all of this to me?”
At that moment, she looked up at an LDS Church building she had always passed by. Really seeing it for the first time, she became curious; she went inside and introduced herself to two sister missionaries, who taught her later that week.
Veronica says that after the first lesson, “I stood up and told them, ‘You’re all crazy,’ and I left.” She didn’t want any of it, but eventually she began to reconsider.
“I think it was the first time I prayed so much. I felt like God was telling me, ‘I am sending you this opportunity so that you can get to know me better. Don’t you want it?’”
She decided she did want it. Despite losing her home and her job because of the gospel, she was baptized. Even though her life continued to be difficult sometimes, she trusted in the Lord. “Before I knew about the Church, I would cry or get mad if I didn’t know how I was going to pay my rent. But now I know that the Lord will provide.”
Veronica’s patriarchal blessing told her that she was to serve a mission, but she didn’t have any skirts or any way to buy them. A member of the Seventy and his wife were passing through the area and heard about her need; the wife had felt inspired to pack extra skirts for the trip, and she gave many of them to Veronica. She also encouraged Veronica to attend institute. When Veronica’s bishop started an institute program for their area, she began attending regularly.
Institute has given her peace and happiness. “I think what I like the most about institute is that during the week, we have a lot of different tasks to do. We have Sundays to renew our covenants with Heavenly Father. But on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, what do we have? I am grateful that we have institute at least once during the week because it is a way to remember Jesus Christ. Institute is one way He’s helping me progress.”
And Veronica did serve a mission. In October 2016 she left to serve in the Chile Osorno Mission.
She says, “I know that I’m here today because of Him. I know that He has prepared a plan perfect for each one of us. He will give us opportunities throughout our lives. I can feel His love every day, even though sometimes I say, ‘Father, why is this happening to me?’ But before I go to sleep, He responds, ‘This is happening because of this. Now go to sleep.’ And I love Him, too. Maybe I had to go through everything I went through to come to feel so much love for Him.”

When the faces of two young men appeared in the upper portion of the door to our home in Colombia, we thought they were standing on something in order to see through the door. They were not; they were just very tall! Our three-year-old son, Pablo Ezequiel, looked up at them with astonishment. Within days they were his best friends.
Our family—Ludy, my wife; Erika; Yesica; and little Ezequiel—was looking for the Lord. We were living some gospel principles already: we prayed at mealtime, we prayed as a family, and we did family activities. Our lives were based on our family union. The appearance of those two “large angels,” as Ezequiel called the elders, confirmed our practices of strengthening the family and focusing on God.
Using the scriptures as their guide, Elders Fa and Fields taught us the path. We had been asking the Lord where we should worship. The Book of Mormon and the restored gospel gave the answers to each of the questions we had over the years in our family discussions. The answers fit perfectly, and we soon became members of the Church. One year later we made covenants and were sealed together as an eternal family in the Bogotá Colombia Temple.

I was born in Weonju, South Korea, sometime in 1958 and was later adopted by an American family. When I was fourteen, I joined the Church. A year later, concerned about what to do after high school, I decided to obtain my patriarchal blessing. I first talked to the patriarch, who advised me to fast and pray about the things I wanted to know. I did, and later received my blessing with good feelings about the promises in it. But one section puzzled me:
“You will have the great privilege of performing work for and in behalf of your family, the parents you have not known. If you will search for your family records, help will come from on high; the heavens will respond to your prayers if you fast and pray and if you will be faithful in giving of your time and talents.”
I knew I needed to do my genealogy work, but I couldn’t understand the part about “the parents you have not known.” I had no idea who my natural parents were or how to find out. As far as I knew, I was an orphan when I was adopted.
During my last semester in college, after sincere prayer and soul searching, I felt strongly impressed to serve a mission. I completed my missionary application and sent in my papers, but worried that I would be called to go to Korea. I did not particularly want to go there. A few weeks passed, and the call came to the “Korea Seoul West Mission.”
I struggled with accepting my call, but as the time drew near, I thought of the promise in my patriarchal blessing. How else could I do my genealogy work? I had to go to Korea.
After arriving at the mission home in Korea, one of the first questions the mission president asked me was, “Do you plan to do some of your genealogy work while you’re here?” Surprised and encouraged by his question, I answered, “Yes, I want to.”

I will tell you of an experience I had before I was a General Authority that affected me profoundly. I sat on a plane next to a professed atheist who pressed his disbelief in God so urgently that I bore my testimony to him. “You are wrong,” I said. “There is a God. I know He lives!”
He protested, “You don’t know. Nobody knows that! You can’t know it!” When I would not yield, the atheist, who was an attorney, asked perhaps the ultimate question on the subject of testimony. “All right,” he said in a sneering, condescending way, “you say you know. Tell me how you know.”
When I attempted to answer, even though I held advanced academic degrees, I was helpless to communicate.
When I used the words Spirit and witness, the atheist responded, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” The words prayer, discernment, and faith were equally meaningless to him. “You see,” he said, “you don’t really know. If you did, you would be able to tell me how you know.”
I felt, perhaps, that I had borne my testimony to him unwisely and was at a loss as to what to do. Then came the experience! Something came into my mind. And I mention here a statement of the Prophet Joseph Smith: “A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas … and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation, until you become perfect in Christ Jesus.”1
Such an idea came into my mind, and I said to the atheist, “Let me ask if you know what salt tastes like.”
“Of course I do,” was his reply.
“Then,” I said, “assuming that I have never tasted salt, explain to me just what it tastes like.”
After some thought, he said, “Well, I, uh, it is not sweet and it is not sour.”
“You’ve told me what it isn’t, not what it is.”
After several attempts, of course, he could not do it. He could not convey, in words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt. I bore testimony to him once again and said, “I know there is a God. You ridiculed that testimony and said that if I did know, I would be able to tell you exactly how I know. My friend, spiritually speaking, I have tasted salt. I am no more able to convey to you in words how this knowledge has come than you are to tell me what salt tastes like. But I say to you again, there is a God! He does live! And just because you don’t know, don’t try to tell me that I don’t know, for I do!”
As we parted, I heard him mutter, “I don’t need your religion for a crutch! I don’t need it.”

Tourists inundate the center of Philadelphia during July, particularly on Independence Day.
What better place, then, for missionaries to contact people who would be interested in knowing more about the Church? And one ideal location would surely be the Independence National Historic Park, across the street from the Liberty Bell display and near Independence Hall, site of the Constitutional Convention.
Using heavy cardboard backing obtained from a local art club display, missionaries and members of the North Philadelphia Branch built a three-sided display, eight feet high and nine and one half feet wide, and obtained Park Service permission to display it near a large fountain in the park.
The triangular display featured displays on genealogy, America’s 200-year history, and America’s 2,000-year history. It featured a screen on which films could be shown.
But on the fourth day, a wind-and-rain storm snapped the frame.
Instead of abandoning the project, the missionaries were encouraged by members’ efforts to keep the display alive. A new display, including an additional presentation on family home evening, was built, this time with plywood. Brother Arthur Abraham, a counselor in the branch presidency, donated a trailer so the proselyting aid could be moved.
While using the new display on the first day, the elders taught 17 discussions. On July 4, they served as an information booth for Independence Day visitors. Their records show they talked to more than 1,000 people, and at least one person will be baptized as a result.
“The project caught the members’ attention when they saw that the missionaries were sincere in doing a good job,” Cheryl Ann Murdock, a young adult in the branch, said. “They became excited about missionary work, and the Church received a great deal of exposure to the public. We were proud to see the Church represented in the park.”

It was a dry year when Mona and George Dunn decided to grow sugarcane on their farm near Lautoka. After six weeks without rain, the Dunns and the contractor whom they had hired to plant their crop feared that the seedlings would not survive. Brother and Sister Dunn and their sons fasted and prayed. As they returned from church the next Sunday, they met the contractor. “You are very blessed,” he said. “It has rained just enough to keep your cane alive.”
Later, when their water tank had nearly run dry, the Dunns again prayed for rain. As they sat on their veranda a few nights afterward, they saw a patch of clouds. “Wouldn’t it be marvelous if it poured right now?” said Sister Dunn.
“It will,” replied her husband.
And it did. The storm filled their tank to overflowing—but did not wet the road leading to their home.