Gospel Story Finder

When I got baptized, it was a special time. I felt really good—I’d never had a better day. I learned more things than I ever had on a Sunday. I felt really different when I came out of the water. I knew all of my sins were washed away.
That day I was given a journal to write my feelings and thoughts in. I asked ward members to write in it, too. They wrote that they are happy to have me in the Church and that they are proud of me for choosing the right.
I chose to follow Heavenly Father’s commandments and be baptized. That made me feel happy.
Neil Cain, age 8Belle Fourche, South Dakota

One of the trials of living in this fallen world came to our family when our nine-year old son Tanner came home sick one day with what turned out to be a very difficult childhood cancer, which he fought for three long years.

Tanner was a great kid. He was full of life, like he had always known his would be short, so he had to squeeze everything into it. But we didn’t know that. All we saw was him, always full speed ahead, impatient, fun, funny—1000 miles per hour. We used to say of him that he would probably grow up to either become the prophet or a bank robber. We didn’t know which.

One of the Sunday mornings right before he passed away, he was experiencing a lot of pain. He had tumors in his bones and in his head, and he was taking a lot of pain medicine and still hurt. That morning, his mom came into his room to see if he had been able to sleep. She was amazed to find him fumbling to get his Sunday clothes on. “Tanner, I don’t think you should you be going to church. Why don’t you stay home and rest today?”

He hung his head for a moment, thinking about it. “I think I should go.”

His mom answered, “Nobody is going to expect you to come to church when you need pain medicine just to sit up in bed… when you feel this bad.“

“Yes, but I think it matters when I go. I see how people look at me when I pass the sacrament. I think it helps them.”

So, he dressed, went to church, and for the last time of his earthly life, he passed the sacrament. I saw he was right: people were looking at him. Everyone seemed to be looking at him. I saw that it mattered to them. They saw a little boy in a body, spent of all energy, making heroic exertions to present them with those symbols of the Atonement, carrying the tray from the priest’s table, then steadying himself with one hand on the end of the pew, his little bald head glistening with perspiration at the effort and his sacrifice quietly pointing to the Atonement, to Gethsemene, to Galgotha, places where exhaustion and pain and love and commitment had also inspired sacrifice. And, I noticed he had been right: it helped people. It helped me. It helps us still. Members of our ward still sometimes refer to the time Tanner passed the sacrament.

With his confidence in himself established on a spiritual basis, Peter was ready to work toward going on a mission. After submitting his papers and undergoing a special interview with Elder Thomas S. Monson, Peter received his call to the Northern California Mission.
Up until then Peter had always worn dark glasses in an attempt to cover the slits that had been sewn closed over his eyes to compensate for his lack of eyelids. He had been so self-conscious of his appearance that he never went anywhere without his glasses. On the way to his mission interview, he took his dark glasses off and never wore them again. Surgery later corrected the problem with his eyelids.
His new attitude about himself helped him serve a successful mission. He was able to influence people and encourage them to become members of the Church.

Let me apply President Packer's counsel to selecting a college major. Upon entering BYU, I was troubled by what major to choose. Having done well in math, I proceeded into engineering. After my mission, I thought that international law was the career for me and switched majors to political science. Soon I found myself missing numerical analysis, so I changed majors one more time to business finance. That choice finally felt right and I eventually came to understand that my nature was better suited to a career in business than in law.

(By the way, President Wheelwright will probably be relieved if I add that I still graduated in eight semesters, just in case some of you were considering using this major-changing story as an excuse to extend your time at BYU–Hawaii.)

My experience is that the Spirit will light your path a step at a time as you move forward in faith. Looking back 25 years, I can see that changing my major three times, working several years then returning to graduate school, and entering a profession that intrigued me was an unforeseen ticket to Beijing. This path has blessed me and my family and allowed us to be of service in the Church. I can testify with Alma that looking forward with an eye of faith allows us to "pluck of the fruit of the tree of life" (Alma 32:40).

My name is William Paul McCallister, but everyone calls me Willy. I’m ten years old, and last year my parents decided that our family would go to general conference in Salt Lake City.
We live in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, so it was a long drive for us. Then we had to stand in line a long time—more than two hours—so that we could sit in the Tabernacle for the Saturday morning session. But it was all worth it. When I saw President Benson, I got a swelling in my chest, and my eyes got all watery, and I knew that he really was a prophet of God. I knew, too, that I should listen and do what he said because he spoke for Heavenly Father.
President Benson looked all around, then started to speak. He said that it was time for the earth to be flooded with the Book of Mormon and that it was the responsibility of every member to help.
Later, as we were driving home, our family talked about what we could do to follow the prophet. Mom suggested that we give copies of the Book of Mormon to the missionaries, with our pictures and testimonies inside. We did that the year before, and it was fun, but we didn’t hear from any of the people that got them.
Dad suggested that we give copies of it to some of our friends so that we would know the people who got them.
I thought about it a lot. There are so many people in the world! If I gave a Book of Mormon to someone, it would be like adding one little drop in a whole ocean of people. But I decided that lots of drops added together could flood the earth.
When we got home, I told Mom that I wanted to give a Book of Mormon to someone. She got me one, and I put my picture and my testimony inside it. I wrote that I knew that the Book of Mormon was true because Joseph Smith was a real prophet of God. I said that anyone who read the Book of Mormon and really wanted to know if it was true could pray and ask God, and the Spirit would let him know that it is true. Finally I signed my name. After I finished, I felt kind of scared because I really didn’t know who I was going to give it to.
The next day I put the Book of Mormon in my backpack and took it to school. I guess I expected somebody to just come up and ask me for it, but nobody did.
When I got home, Mom knew that I was discouraged. She said that if I prayed about it, Heavenly Father would help me to know whom to give the Book of Mormon to. So I prayed really hard. I told Heavenly Father that I would do whatever He wanted me to if He would just show me what to do. After I finished, I still didn’t know who to give the Book of Mormon to, but I knew that Heavenly Father was going to help me. I sure didn’t expect things to turn out like they did, though!
In the morning I put the book in my backpack again. During recess, I took it out and set it on my knees. I looked at it for a while, then opened it to my favorite scripture: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” [1 Ne. 3:7]. Right then I surely needed the Lord to provide a way for me to give that Book of Mormon to someone.
Suddenly a shadow fell across my book, and I looked up at a kid standing there. I had seen him lots of times before, but I didn’t know his name.
“What’re you reading?” he asked.
“The Book of Mormon.”
“Oh. You must be a Mormon,” he said. “My mother says that Mormons are pretty OK people, although she doesn’t believe that any church is the true church.”
“Well”—I hesitated, hoping that the Holy Ghost would help me know what to say—“that’s just because she doesn’t know about our church. We have a real prophet, and Jesus Christ is the head of the Church. He tells the prophet what to say to us.”
“Really? My mother says that even if there is a God, no one can really know for sure, because He doesn’t talk to people anymore.”
I took a deep breath and prayed for more help. “Don’t you think that God would want you to know that He exists and to know what He wants you to do?”
“I guess so.”
“A prophet tells people what God wants them to do,” I said.
“So what does your prophet tell you?” he asked.
I could tell that he didn’t believe me. I prayed really hard for help. “He says that we should study the Book of Mormon because it’s an inspired book of scripture and that a person can get close to God by reading it.”
“Is that what you’re reading?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you want to see it?”
“Sure.”
I handed him my Book of Mormon.
“I have one question,” he said. “How do you know that someone isn’t just trying to fool you with all that stuff about God and real prophets, like my mother says?”
“I’ll show you.” I was getting really excited. I reached over and turned to Moroni 10:4. When I found it, I read out loud:
“‘And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.’ See,” I said, “you don’t have to take my word for it. If you pray about it, you can find out for yourself if it’s true, because God will tell you. But you have to read it first.”
The boy looked at the scripture again and read it himself. Then he looked at me. “I wonder what my mother would say about this.”
“Well,” I said, “maybe you could ask her. You can have this Book of Mormon. Then she can read it, too, and find out if it’s true.”
Just then the bell rang, and he left with my Book of Mormon under his arm. I was feeling pretty happy as I went back inside the school. Then I realized that I still didn’t know his name and that if they asked me, I would have to tell Mom and Dad that I didn’t know who had gotten my Book of Mormon.
Then a couple of weeks later, the boy found me during recess and said that his name was Chris Brown and that his mother wanted to know more about the Church. That was six weeks ago. Now we’re friends, and tomorrow he and his whole family are being baptized.
I have another Book of Mormon in my backpack now.

My mom gave a family home evening lesson on loving our enemies. She taught me and my brothers and sisters what it means to love those who “despitefully use you, and persecute you” (Matt. 5:44).
I remembered that lesson the next day at school when I noticed that a bigger boy who was always trying to bully or tease me didn’t have a lunch. My sister had helped me pack a huge lunch the night before, and I had two sandwiches. So I took my extra sandwich and some other things in my lunch and offered them to the boy. I was happy that he took the extra food, and he seemed glad that I had offered it to him. He is not mean to me anymore, and I am much happier at school.
I am glad that I listened to the family home evening lesson. My mom and dad are, too. They said that they are proud of me for listening to the Spirit and doing a kind and brave thing even though it seemed a little scary.

I am a new member of the Church as of February 26, 1977. I was first taught the gospel by two fine young missionaries about seven years ago but did not join the Church at that time. Throughout this long period the Church magazines have been my only contact with the Church. I have received endless spiritual guidance and encouragement from the many articles. There have been many times during this period when I have been very depressed, and the magazines have always been a source of strength. They have played a strong part in finally bringing me into the true Church.
Tom WaitmanCupertino, California

In June 1994, I learned a lesson that, I hope, will be forever engraved in my memory.
I had planned to climb with a coworker more than 1,200 meters up Spain’s Sierra de Alhamilla. From the top of this independent mountain range, we would each take off in our hang gliders. We planned to take advantage of bright blue skies and enjoy a marvelous flight over the Tabernas desert and the valleys of Pechina and Viator.
The night before our intended flight, my evening prayers were interrupted by a strong impression that I should not fly the following morning. I was surprised not only by the strength of this impression but also by its persistence. Though I had enough experience to know better—I was a member of the district council and was the district Young Men president—I foolishly ignored the prompting; I thought that perhaps the impression was a product of my imagination or my fear of a new experience. I decided that I would go ahead with the climb, but that I would cancel my flight if the weather conditions were not right.
The following day seemed perfect as my friend and I began our climb. I forgot about the impression I had received the night before and looked forward to my flight.
When we got to the top, we found that the wind was not blowing from the expected direction. As I assembled the glider, the wind changed again and began blowing from a different direction. I felt a great weight on my shoulders and questioned our decision to fly. Nevertheless, I felt some pressure to keep the promise I had made to my friend, and being stubborn, I decided to be the first one to take off.
As soon as I left the mountaintop, I knew I should not have done it. I dropped rapidly toward the trees right below my take-off point, my alarming descent announced by a constant beeping coming from a gauge I had with me. The tree tops, which at first had seemed far away, rushed toward me, getting bigger and bigger. Wind turbulence tossed the hang glider about like a leaf in the wind, and I lost control. Trapped in a narrowing canyon and unable to keep a flight path, I feared that I would crash into the mountainside and be killed. The wind was blowing in my ears, threatening me. It sounded as if it were saying, “You shouldn’t be here.”
Just at this terrifying moment, I remembered the impression from the night before. I realized it had been a warning, and I immediately repented of my disrespect for the concern the Lord had shown for my welfare. I prayed aloud, begging him to help me get out of the maelstrom that gripped me.
Suddenly, I seemed to gain a measure of control and saw a small clearing that I could use as a landing place. I was closing in to land when the wind hit me again. I fell 10 meters, the hang glider dropping fast toward the ground as if there weren’t any air. Just as I was about to hit the ground, the wing of my hang glider tipped up and I was able to land. When I pulled myself from the hang glider, I found I had a few cuts and the hang glider had two broken parts. And I had learned a lesson I will never forget.
I left the mountain feeling great gratitude toward the Lord for his tender care. In spite of my hardheadedness, he had preserved my life.

Elder Groberg: We will now view the final clip, which is about the other fear sailors have: severe storms at sea. We had finished a successful circuit of preaching on several islands and were sailing home when we were hit by a fierce, albeit brief, tropical squall. Notice the symbolism in Jean’s reaching out to save me. Many a man caught in the violent storms of life is saved by a faithful woman.

[A film clip was shown here.]

I remember thinking, when I was flipped out of the boat: This shouldn’t be happening. I’m a missionary. Where’s my protection? Missionaries aren’t supposed to swim! It didn’t take me long to realize that I had better quit complaining and start swimming. Eventually I made it to shore. In life, when “unfair” things happen to us, we shouldn’t use energy complaining but use it “swimming.” When things go against us, if we row or swim with all our might, the Lord will bless us, and we’ll make it to shore.

I grew up on a farm and worked nearly every day during the summer. I hoed beets, hauled hay, and worked with cattle and horses. Farm work was not my favorite summer activity. The days were very hot, and I had to work hard to get all my chores done.
One day when I was about 11 years old, I finished some of my chores early and had some time before I had to start my next task. It was hot, so I sat under a tree to rest. I don’t know why, but I had the Book of Mormon with me. I picked up the book and started to read. To my amazement, I couldn’t put it down. For the next three or four days I continued to have extra time during my workday. In those few days, I read the whole Book of Mormon. Every time I opened the book, I was filled with a warm, calm feeling. The presence of the Spirit was strong and bore witness to me that the book was true, and because it was true, everything else I knew about the gospel had to be true too.
Though I was baptized when I was eight, reading the Book of Mormon on the farm marked the moment of my true conversion. I do not know why I had the Book of Mormon with me on the farm that day. I often read books back then, but the Book of Mormon struck me like no other book ever did.
To this day I still remember the testimony I received of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. It has become an anchor in my life. Since that day, I have faced many challenges, but I have never forgotten the moment I knew for myself that the Book of Mormon was true.

We were traveling with family and friends in the south of Oman. We decided to relax on the beach along the coast of the Indian Ocean. Soon after our arrival, our 16-year-old daughter, Nellie, asked if she could swim out to what she thought was a sandbar. Noticing the choppy water, I told her that I would go first, thinking there might be dangerous currents.
After swimming a short while, I called to my wife, asking if I was close to the sandbar. Her response was, “You have gone way past it.” Unbeknownst to me I was trapped in a riptide and was being pulled rapidly out to sea.
I was unsure what to do. The only thing I could think of was to turn around and swim back toward shore. That was exactly the wrong thing to do. I felt helpless. Forces beyond my control were pulling me farther out to sea. What made matters worse was that my wife, trusting my decision, had followed me.
Brothers and sisters, I thought there was a high likelihood I would not survive and that I, because of my decision, would also cause my wife’s death. After great effort and what I believe was divine intervention, our feet somehow touched the sandy bottom and we were able to walk safely back to our friends and daughter.
From time to time I have an image that haunts me. What if that September day, while relaxing on the beach of the Indian Ocean, I had said to my daughter Nellie, “Yes, go ahead. Swim out to the sandbar.” Or if she too had followed my example and had been unable to swim back? What if I had to live life knowing that my example resulted in her being pulled by a riptide out to sea, never to return?

As an only child, I never had to worry about sibling comparison, but I have taken this instruction to heart with my two children and their capacity to learn. My daughter loves music. With relative ease, she sings on key, keeps a beat with appropriate rhythm, consistently recalls lyrics, and hums endless melodies. She progresses because of natural tendencies, interest, instruction, and effort. My son's musical interests, however, weren’t initially as apparent as his farming interests. It didn’t help that my husband’s and my musical abilities had only included singing or dancing to the radio.

As parents, we have become more appreciative of the vast and divine purposes of music. Someday, I hope to emulate my 70-year-old friend Patty who just began formal singing lessons. Meanwhile, I am learning with my children. We enrolled Cooper and Sayer in a unique music program with an exceptional teacher who believes anyone can gain a basic musical competency.

My husband is also committed. Having never learned hymns in his youth, Ryan dutifully sings them every Sunday. For months, he has pointed to the words in each verse to help reinforce Cooper’s reading through the aid of music. Cooper has also observed numerous young men play special piano numbers and closely watched other adult mentors as they sing in sacrament meeting.

Thanks to positive neighborhood influences, the patience of parents and teachers, and a loving Father in Heaven who promises help in all righteous endeavors, Cooper has developed some foundational skills. Of course, it didn't hurt that one of his first piano renditions was “Good-Bye, Old Paint,” a song about a cowboy leaving his horse behind. Cooper is not there yet, but he is the newest member of our accepting ward choir!

William Shakespeare’s play The Life of King Henry V includes a nighttime scene in the camp of English soldiers at Agincourt just before their battle with the French army. In the dim light and partially disguised, King Henry wanders unrecognized among his soldiers. He talks with them, trying to gauge the morale of his badly outnumbered troops, and because they do not realize who he is, they are candid in their comments. In one exchange they philosophize about who bears responsibility for what happens to men in battle—the king or each individual soldier.
At one point King Henry declares, “Methinks I could not die any where so contented as in the king’s company; his cause being just.”
Michael Williams retorts, “That’s more than we know.”
His companion agrees, “Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the king’s subjects: if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes the crime of it out of us.”
Williams adds, “If the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make.”
Not surprisingly, King Henry disagrees. “Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own.”1
Shakespeare does not attempt to resolve this debate in the play, and in one form or another it is a debate that continues down to our own time—who bears responsibility for what happens in our lives?

Many years ago two colleagues of mine—a nurse and her doctor husband—asked me why I lived the way I did. I answered, “Because I know the Book of Mormon is true.” I let them borrow my copy of the book, inviting them to read it. A week later they returned my book with a polite “Thanks a lot.”

I responded, “What do you mean, ‘Thanks a lot’? That’s a totally inappropriate response for one who has read this book. You didn’t read it, did you! Please take it back and read it; then I would like my book back.”

Admitting that they had only turned its pages, they accepted my invitation. When they returned, they said tearfully, “We have read the Book of Mormon. We know it is true! We want to know more.” They learned more, and it was my privilege to baptize both of them.

After the last tree was decorated and the last card was signed, the youth set out to show the hospice patients how much they cared through their actions. They spent the afternoon doing yard work, scraping and painting houses and sheds, even doing housework.

“Helping people at their homes can be awkward at first,” says Priest Justin Saunders. “But they really appreciated it and seemed glad to have us. It turned out to be fun.”

Apparently, people were more than appreciative. They were ecstatic. One woman, whose husband had been bedridden for some time, took pictures of the youth scraping and painting the shed outside their home. She wanted him to see them in action, even though he couldn’t get outside.

How did it come to be that with all the construction of new buildings in the last few years, this perfect site is still open and still available? Here is the story:
When the President’s Council considered the location for what are now the Hinckley and the Ricks Buildings, there was a good bit of lobbying and a lot of logic behind building both of those buildings on the field where the auditorium will stand. It made all the sense in the world to put those new academic buildings right in the academic core of the campus. But President Bednar and the other members of the President’s Council were not settled in their minds. They decided to take a walk. As they looked at the field and visited sites up on the hill, the strong impression came that the new buildings should be built up on the south end of campus and that the field should be left empty. And so, long before the temple was announced, long before we knew anything about an auditorium, the hand of the Lord protected this site and extended the campus in the direction of what would be the Rexburg Temple.

The Latter-day Saints had many problems in Missouri. In the autumn of 1838, Governor Boggs told leaders of the state militia (army) to force the Saints to leave the state.
The Mormons must be treated as enemies.
Joseph and other Church leaders were arrested for crimes they did not commit. The militiamen mocked the prisoners and kept them out in the rain without any shelter.
The commander of the militia told General Alexander W. Doniphan to shoot Joseph and the other prisoners. The prisoners prayed that they would not be killed. Their prayers were answered.
It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order.
The next day the guards watched closely as the prisoners said good-bye to their families in Far West. Joseph’s wife and children were grateful to see him alive but very sad to see him go away. Joseph worried about them.
God alone can protect them and deliver me from the hands of my enemies and restore me to my family.
The militia took many Latter-day Saint prisoners to Independence, then to a jail in Richmond. Later, Joseph and a few other men were moved to a jail in Liberty.
The guards treated the prisoners badly. One night the guards at the Richmond jail told each other about the terrible deeds they had done to the Latter-day Saints. Joseph stood up and rebuked them.
Silence! In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you and command you to be still.
I will not live another minute and hear such language.
The guards apologized. They were quiet for the rest of the night.
Other guards watched over the prisoners as they traveled to a different county for a court trial. One night the guards got drunk. They allowed Joseph and the other men to take their horses and escape.
I shall take a drink and go to bed, and you may do as you have a mind to.
After spending almost six months in prison, Joseph was reunited with his family in Quincy, Illinois.

Benjamin Ballam, who has spina bifida, is a special child of Michael and Laurie Ballam, of Logan, Utah. He has been a blessing to them and many others. Having had 17 surgeries, Benjamin knows all about hospitals and doctors. Once, when an overwhelmed attendant became vocally upset—not at Benjamin, but over stressful circumstances—little three-year-old Benjamin was an example of the Lord’s commandment to be “full of love” (Mosiah 3:19). He reached out, tenderly patted the irritated attendant, and said, “I love you anyway.”

One way the Lord is hastening His work of salvation is by guiding inspired men and women in their learning as He reveals additional truth at an ever increasing rate.

In my wife’s introduction, she mentioned some of the wonderful inventions that have impacted our lives. Each of these were based on what the world refers to broadly as technology. In the academic world, technology is defined as a body of knowledge that enables us to do something we could not do prior to the discovery, refinement, and application of that combined knowledge.

During much of my career, the focus of my academic work was on the development, refinement, and application of such technologies. Allow me to share a handful of illustrative examples of how revealed technology has played and continues to play a key role as the Lord floods the earth with truth.

The Written Word

The first example involves the development of the printed word. For centuries, copies of letters and manuscripts were made by hand primarily by monks. Then, in 1436, the Lord guided and inspired Johannes Gutenberg in the development of a new technology: the printing press and movable type. The first printing press could only print a single sheet of paper at a time and had with moveable type arranged and “set” by hand. The type would then be coated with ink, and as many pages as desired could be printed. Then the type would be broken down and sorted, and a new set of pages would be arranged and set, and the process repeated.

Though somewhat slow and cumbersome, almost immediately this new technology was used to convert handwritten manuscripts into printed pamphlets or tracks and even full books. With books more widely available, growing numbers of people desired to learn to read. All of this was prelude to the Lord causing His word–as found in the Bible–to sweep the earth as with a flood.

By the mid-1500s, brave men like Martin Luther and William Tyndale were using the technology of moveable type and the printing press to publish the Bible, making it available to tens of thousands of lay people. Previously the Bible had been read only by clergy (who possessed handwritten manuscripts and could read the original language in which it had been written). But now, with the printing of the Bible in common languages plus increased literacy rates, the word of God quickly became available to the lay person. This fueled the Reformation and the great opportunity for commoners to use their agency and faith in deciding for themselves what to believe.

Then in the early 1600s, King James of England sought to develop a standard version of the Bible that he hoped would quell the fighting among the various Protestant churches. The result was published in 1611 as the King James Bible, and it rapidly became widely available. The technology developed by Gutenberg, and refined by those who followed, helped accelerate the demand for religious freedom by flooding the world with the truth of God’s word. And, by 1820, these and other developments paved the way for a 14-year-old farm boy to read James 1:5 and follow its counsel by asking God for wisdom.

Exploration

The second example involves the tremendous exploration, discovery, and mapping of the earth that gained momentum in the late 1400s with the voyage of Christopher Columbus to the New World. Using the knowledge of ships, currents, winds, and navigation that others before him had developed, Columbus added the courage and faith required to make his epic voyage. While others had previously sailed the known world following a route from Northern Europe and the Mediterranean around the tip of Africa and traveling to India and the Far East, they rarely ventured more than a few days from the known land masses.

Until this time, the Lord had chosen to keep the Americas hidden from the view of the rest of the world. By 1492, He had prepared Columbus and his small band of comrades, spread between three ships, to make a discovery that would provide a place where freedom of religion could take hold and flourish. Indeed, Columbus said of his divine mission:

“The Lord purposed that there should be something clearly miraculous in this matter of the voyage to the Indies. … I spent seven years [in Spain] in [the] royal court discussing this subject with the leading persons in all the learned arts, and their conclusion was that all was in vain. That was the end, and they gave it up. But afterwards it all turned out just as our Redeemer Jesus Christ had said, and as He had spoken earlier by the mouth of His holy prophets.”14

While others may have given up, Columbus did not. He could not. As he recorded:

“With a hand that could be felt, the Lord opened my mind to the fact that it would be possible to sail, and He opened my will to desire to accomplish the project. … This was the fire that burned within me. … Who can doubt that this fire was not merely mine, but also of the Holy Spirit … urging me to press forward.”15

Columbus’ own account of his first voyage quickly became a bestseller throughout Europe, selling out three printings in its first year. This account, combined with the maps and charts developed and refined by other explorers who soon began to sail to the New World, resulted in the development of trade routes between North and South America and Europe. Within a century of Columbus’ discovery, growing numbers of Protestants seeking religious freedom were moving to the New World, establishing communities where they could worship freely, according to the dictates of their conscience.

My wonderful parents welcomed four sons and me, their only daughter, into their home in close succession. We have always been close to each other’s hearts even more than we are in age. We have supported each other and had many precious memories of time spent together. We have always been such good friends!
That is why I felt so broken when one of my brothers ended his life. I worried my heart would not be able to survive the pain—pain is not really the right word. There is no word strong enough to convey the awful experience of losing a loved one to suicide. It turns your world upside down.
I relied on the Lord to help me care for my family and meet my other commitments while I dealt with soul-distressing questions about my brother and his death.
When I asked the Lord for help, I felt prompted to write my questions to the prophet in a letter. I truly believed that my questions were so big and deep that only a prophet could answer them, but I knew it probably wasn’t necessary to send the prophet a letter. I hesitated but then recalled the success I’ve had acting on past promptings.
I went ahead and wrote a tearful letter to President Russell M. Nelson. I wrote about how I felt and how I could move forward if I just knew the answers to the questions swirling in my mind. I concluded my letter, put it in an envelope addressed to President Nelson, and tucked it into my scripture bag.
I forgot about the letter. I noticed it in my scripture bag some time later and opened it. As I read through the letter, I realized that through faith and my own scripture study, prayer, temple attendance, and patience, the Holy Ghost had led me to the answers to every single question I had written down! I felt close to the Savior and His love.
I am so glad I did not mail the letter! Instead, I gained important experiences that taught me again that the Lord cherishes me and all His children individually, and that He will guide and direct us.
I once believed that my questions were so complex that only a prophet could answer them, but I have come to know for myself the truth of the Savior’s words: “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you” (John 14:18).