Gospel Story Finder

The Johnson farm in Hiram, Ohio, is much the same as it was 150 years ago. The white frame house faces a wide front lawn on a quiet back road in the Ohio countryside. In 1832, a real mob stormed down that road. They broke into the house and dragged the Prophet into the nearby fields. They beat him, choked him, scratched him, smeared him with tar and feathers, and tried to force liquid tar down his throat.
After the mob left, Joseph stumbled back to the house, where Emma fainted at the sight of her husband. In the dark, the tar looked like blood. For the remainder of the night, friends helped Joseph remove the tar and clean his wounds.
Tired, sore, and ill, he still stood the next morning on the front steps of the Johnson home and preached a sermon. Present in the crowd were some of the men who had been in the mob the night before. But the Prophet did not mention what had happened. Instead, he told about the glorious things that God had revealed to him.

Recently I met an intelligent young man with great potential. He was undecided about a mission. He has decided not to attend a university now. In his free time he only does what he likes to do. He doesn’t work because he doesn’t have to, and it would take time from pleasure. He passed seminary classes without much thought of personally applying the knowledge gained. I noted: “You are making choices today that appear to give you what you want: an easy life, abundant enjoyment, and not much sacrifice. You can do that for a while, yet every decision you make narrows your future. You are eliminating possibilities and options. There will come a time, and it won’t be too distant, where you are going to spend the rest of your life doing things you don’t want to do, in places you don’t want to be, because you have not prepared yourself. You are not taking advantage of your opportunities.”
I mentioned how everything I treasure today began to mature in the mission field. Missionary service is not something we do for ourselves, yet great growth and preparation for the future is gained from a mission. There they focus outside of themselves on other people. They draw close to the Lord and really learn His teachings. They find individuals interested in the message but not sure of its worth. Missionaries try with every capacity—prayer, fasting, and testifying—to help individuals embrace the truth. A mission teaches one to be led by the Spirit, to understand our purpose for being on earth and how to accomplish it. I gave him a blessing. As he left, I prayed earnestly that the Lord would help him choose the right priorities. Otherwise, he will fail in life’s purpose.

Summer evenings were filled with neighborhood children gathering under the streetlamp at the end of our cul-de-sac to play night games. While these were often thrillingly scary, they occasionally took a mischievous turn. One evening under the cover of dark, my childhood best friend and I followed our older siblings to the doorstep of a woman who lived nearby. Imagine our surprise when the older kids rang her doorbell and then dashed down the street. Stumbling along behind, not quite sure what had just happened, I remember feeling dread that I was certainly going to get in trouble for this one. And I did. The policeman from my sleepy little town who was dispatched to answer the call found me hiding and crying in my friend’s basement. The officer kept me from a certain life of crime as he described the horrors that befall little girls who are thrown into the slammer. I was effectively scared straight that night, and I have never been tempted to doorbell ditch since.

I live in New South Wales, Australia, where we are blessed with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Golden sand and crystal blue waters grace our coastlines. A favorite pastime for me and my friends is walking along a nearby beach. While walking we talk and enjoy each other’s company.
One afternoon, when we had enjoyed the day, a friend of mine noticed that a locket I usually wear was missing from around my neck. I was particularly fond of the locket since my grandmother had given it to me as a special birthday present.
I frantically searched up and down the beach looking for my prized possession but to no avail. Soon my friends realized my distress and joined in the search. After searching for a while, one of my friends suggested we have a prayer.
By now it was nearly dusk and the incoming tide was growing higher. Kneeling in the sand, we asked Heavenly Father to guide us to my locket. As we rose one of my friends headed for a part of the beach we had already combed. “It can’t be there,” I said. “We’ve already searched every grain of sand.” Still my friend continued on his way up the beach while the rest of us maintained the search.
The next thing I knew, my friend was running down the beach with a grin from ear to ear. He had found my locket and rescued it from the tide just in time.
It was a simple thing, maybe even a little bit trivial, but Heavenly Father knew it was important to me. Just after we found the locket, I realized something. If Heavenly Father answered a prayer about something as small as a piece of jewelry, surely He would answer prayers about more important things, like times when I need guidance to make good decisions or strengthen my testimony.
Now I know that when I pray, the answers will come. I just have to listen.

As Vanessa has learned more and more, she has been able to help her younger sisters and brother learn. They have each progressed faster in their music because they’ve had the help of an older sister. In a family of performers, everything doesn’t go perfectly smooth. Practice time can get a little heated. Everyone has his own opinion about how things should be done. But all differences fade away on stage. They all get into the spirit of the performance and enjoy sharing what they do with appreciative audiences.

For a group of young men in Nevada, a journey of 195 miles started with service. It ended with goals accomplished, lessons learned, and bonds formed.
The idea for running the 195-mile relay race came when the young men, as a Scout troop, volunteered to set up and man some stations at the race the previous year.
“We thought it was pretty cool that people were running just for fun,” says Carter M., 17. “Our group thought we wouldn’t mind doing something like that.”
A few months later, their Young Men president, Jon Wayne Nielsen, got serious about the idea and asked the boys if they really wanted to run the race. “He thought that would be something fun for us to do and something that would be a good experience,” Andrew B., 18, says. The young men agreed and decided to participate in the race.
Many of the young men had never run long distances before, so they began training a couple of months before the race. They would train most days of the week.
“Starting out we would do 25 minutes, 30 minutes, or an hour,” says Michael W., 13. “Then we started running 3 to 8 miles. Two weeks before the race, we did a qualifying run that was 10 miles, which we had to complete in order to run the race.”
Some of the Scouts did the training on their own, and others ran together. “Having other people helped a lot,” says Carson M., 15. “A lot of us thought that when we were running by ourselves, we were doing this all on our own, and it didn’t really matter. Having your team running with you is more of a motivation, because you know you’re going to be running with them in the race.”
Finally, the day of the race came, and Carter started off their two-day run at 7:30 a.m. on a Friday morning. Their team of 12 included 10 members of their Scout troop and 2 of their leaders. Each runner completed three legs of the race, ranging between 3 and 12 miles. They all ran in their Scout uniforms. They traveled in two vans when they weren’t running.
After 34 hours of running day and night, the Scouts finished the race on Saturday afternoon. The young men say the race was hard, but they enjoyed it. They were especially impressed by all the support they got from the other teams in the race.
“We were the youngest group to ever do one of these races,” Andrew says. “So it was cool to see all these people who are good runners and do this all the time come up to us and say, ‘It’s cool that you guys are doing this.’ It felt really good.”
The other thing that felt good was the sense of accomplishment the young men had from training for and completing this race.
“I think the race helped me learn that I can set a goal and actually do it,” Michael says. “It really helped me learn that I can do hard things instead of sitting around playing video games.”
The race also helped the young men get closer to the other members of their troop and their priesthood quorums.
“It’s just cool to have fun with people who are members of the Church,” Andrew says. “We all got a lot closer as a quorum, as a priesthood body. That was a bonding experience for us. We all hold the same priesthood, and we all felt our struggles together.”
Along with getting to know one another better, the young men also learned to help and support each other. “We were always there supporting each other,” Carson says. “Everything we did there, we worked as a team. We cheered on everybody as a team.”
“The most important thing I learned from that race would be to care for others around you,” Carter says. “If others need help, you help them out, because you’re going to run into people who want to hear the Lord’s gospel, and how you care for them and others will affect them.”
It may have seemed like just a long race, but these young men learned valuable lessons and skills that will help them in a more important race—the race of life.

A full-time mission is an event Brian’s in full training for. He often brings friends from high school to church and seminary with him, hoping to interest them in the gospel.
Victor Venegas, 18, who joined the Church three years ago, says Brian’s friendship helped him feel welcome in the branch. “Brian and I have been friends since I joined the Church,” says Victor, who is also on Hempstead’s baseball team.
“When I first went to church everybody was nice, so I kept coming back,” he says.

The last child we have is named Benjamin. When he was young, we had a family tradition on the day after Thanksgiving. We would load all of our bikes in the back of the truck, get everyone into the minivan, and then drive up to a mountain trail near the San Gabriel River in Southern California. We would go on a bike ride there and then have a picnic at a park at the end. We did this every year.

When Benjamin was three or four, we piled out of our van, got our bikes out of the truck, put our helmets on, got on our bikes, and just started riding—everybody knew the drill. Benjamin was the second to last to get on his bike, and I was the last. When Benjamin got on his bike, he immediately swerved terribly to the left, overcorrected all the way to the right, and then fell on the ground.

I called out to everybody to stop, and then I asked, “Didn’t anyone teach Benjamin how to ride a bike?”

None of us had! I looked at Natalie; she looked at Taylor and then me—I guess it was my job. The funniest thing was that Benjamin didn’t even know that he needed someone to teach him. He just saw everybody get on their bike and go, so he did too!

So I did what dads do: I held the back of the bike seat steady and ran alongside him. Then after about ten yards I launched him, knowing there would be enough angular momentum to keep him vertical. And shazam! He learned how to ride a bike. Sink or swim, I guess. That’s what happens sometimes to the youngest.

Benjamin, I love you. The worth of your soul is so, so great in the sight of God, me, and your mother (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:10).

“By the end of the five weeks of the project to meet the immediate needs of the Afghan refugees in the borough, we had served over 1,000 families. One family stood out to me that came in. They were a humble family placed in a hotel not far from there. As they came in, they seemed like every other refugee that normally comes through. The dad pulled me aside and asked me if he could, in return, also volunteer to help us. He said he has no job and with the time he had, he would like to help others and give back. My heart filled with warmth. Here he had nothing and yet wanted to give the little that he had.
“I have learned so many things I will never forget. Even at the thank you dinner for the volunteers I sat next to extraordinary people from around the world from different religions that were the kindest people I have ever met. I found Christ in those around me who are not members of the Church. I am forever grateful for the opportunity I had to participate in the project.”

Soon after this Charles was released to go home, anxious to share this new message with family and friends. Don was moved to a rehabilitation center in Denver, Colorado. He was quite unprepared for what he encountered at his new residence in the paralytic ward. Everyone seemed depressed, discouraged, and despondent. Patients could not understand how Don, who was in an equally distressing condition, could seem so happy. Some of them asked, “Why are you always so happy and smiling?” Don replied, “My smile keeps the tears from my eyes, and my laughter keeps the lump from my throat.”
With courageous determination Don took advantage of the special care he now received. Long after others would tire and leave the gymnasium, he would remain—trying, trying, trying. Through his valiant effort, accompanied by humble petitions to his Heavenly Father, he was finally strong enough to go up and down the parallel bars alone; and then he was able to walk with braces and crutches. His new mobility permitted him to attend church services. This spiritual comfort brought him great joy, but he was totally surprised by the reception he was given upon his return to the hospital. Everyone teased him for going to church! In his characteristic way, Don’s smile merely broadened at their taunting. He resolved to do something about the gloomy atmosphere in this, his new home, so he happily embarked upon the next chapter of his mission.
In the days that followed, he could be seen wheeling himself down hallways and into every room where patients would receive him, preaching the gospel to all who would listen. He became known good-naturedly as “the prophet,” a title that he accepted graciously.
In the evenings he often lifted his voice in song as he accompanied himself with his guitar. Others began to join in, and the spirit spread. Friday nights soon became known as the time for a hootenanny, and patients joined together with voices raised in song and laughter. Patients began to smile and call each other by name. This new spirit extended into other activities as well.
One of the more dramatic examples was the organizing of a wheelchair olympics.
On the day agreed upon, patients wheeled excitedly from place to place as they marked out a course for the coming events. Wheelchairs were lined up at a starting line, while occupants leaned forward, intently waiting for the starting signal. The signal was given, and they were off in a flurry of wheels and laughter. After a breather and an untangling of wheels, patients were given a chance to challenge another wheelchair. Don looked around, and pointing his finger at one of the chairs, said, “I challenge that chair.”
“Don, you can’t do that,” the astonished attendant replied. “That chair has a motor!”
The competitive young man was undaunted and remained firm; so a course was set and an eager audience waited expectantly for the signal to begin this most unusual race. Soon the signal was given and Don’s hands fairly flew as he propelled his chair toward the finish line. When he had gained full momentum, he ventured a cautious look toward his opponent, only to discover that he was shifting to a higher gear! To complicate matters further, a woven wire fence was stretched a few short feet behind the finish line.
With the heart of a champion, Don ducked his head and gave it everything he had. He crossed the line only inches ahead of his opponent and crashed happily into the wire fence. He was picked up and dusted off amid excited expressions of admiration. He had won!
All was not happiness for Don, however, for he longed to see his home, his family, and his friends. In spite of his high resolve, his vision clouded when he looked down at his crippled legs. Wonderful Church members tried to fill his hour of need, and Don said, “Through their kindness they put a smile on my face and laughter in my mouth.”
As time drew near for him to be released, he began to worry about his acceptance by friends and family upon his return.
The day finally came when his foster parents arrived. It was an ordeal for Don to muster up enough courage to direct the question that had filled his mind completely. “Do you want me to come back?” he asked apprehensively. They softly replied, “Of course, Don. We have a bed waiting for you.” The kind response was too much for him! This time his tears flowed freely and mixed with theirs in a demonstration of joy and love.
On the night of Don’s departure, a special hootenanny was held in his behalf. His many new friends shook the rafters with a song rendered in his honor: “Too Many Chiefs and Not Enough Indians Around This Place.”
The courage and spirit of this young man had touched the lives of others and left an indelible impression.
Two of the residing patients and two members of the nursing staff who waved good-bye to Don had embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ as a result of his influence. Many looked to the future with new hope, and each felt a personal loss at his departure.
Upon his return home, Don’s numerous friends were out to greet him and welcome him back into their circle of friendship. Don soon found a job at an LDS mailbox bookstore that enabled him to meet the payments on his car, a vehicle equipped with special controls that would carry him to his work and to the Mesa Community College where he was enrolled for classes.
As I concluded my visit with him, he handed me a letter. “What is this?” I asked. “It’s a letter from my physical therapist in Denver,” he smiled in reply.
I unfolded the pages and began to read. “Dear Don,” the letter began, “I don’t know how to thank you. Yesterday was the happiest day of my life. It was the day I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
I hope I will remember the example of Don. I hope I will remember his parting words when I asked about his future. He looked directly at me and spoke with conviction: “I’ll wipe away my tears and let the winds of discouragement blow. I cannot fail, for God is with me.”

—With the relief of having examinations over, Guy Neddo has been able to use spare time during graduation week to go flying. For him there’s nothing like being up in the sky.
“I see a plane and I sort of tingle all over,” he said. “My brother Roger graduated from here in 1974. I was about 12 then, and I got to stay with him for a couple of days to look the place over. I fell in love with it. And since I want to fly fighters and don’t have 20/20 vision, about the only way to do it is to graduate from the academy.”
Guy is from Malta, Idaho, and graduated in a high school class of 32. “I had to take calculus and trigonometry by correspondence from BYU to even get in here,” he said. When he leaves for his mission, Guy will leave behind the flying club and the glider flights and the air shows. “As much as I do love flying and the academy, flying isn’t the most important thing in my life,” he said. “Right now I’ve been called to serve Jesus Christ.”

At times a small mistake can fester and bring distress and heartache to him or her who harbors and dwells on the matter, leaving it uncorrected. All of us are subject to such an experience. Let me share with you an example with a beautiful ending. I recently received a note, with a key enclosed, which read:

“Dear President Monson, Thirteen years ago this summer my husband and I stayed at the Hotel Utah. As a memento of our vacation, I took this hotel key and have felt bad about it ever since. I know that the Church owns the former Hotel Utah, and so I am returning this key to you—to the Church—in an effort to set this right. I am so sorry for having taken the key. Please, please, forgive me.”

I thought to myself, What honesty; what a sweet spirit the writer must possess. I replied as follows:

“Dear Sister, Thank you for your thoughtful note and for the Hotel Utah key which you returned. My heart was touched by your sincerity. Though the key itself weighed very little, apparently this has been a heavy burden for you to carry for such a long time. Though the key was of very little worth, its return is of far greater value. I am honored to accept the key and know that you are certainly forgiven. Please accept the enclosed gift with my warmest wishes.”

The key was returned to her, mounted on an attractive plaque.

Kyle Dopp, who served in the Scotland Edinburgh Mission, said he had an experience which brought a new focus to his scripture study. “One of our investigators, Carol, was studying with missionaries from another church when we started to teach her. We explained some of the basic doctrines of the gospel. She said what we had taught her would make an interesting discussion with the missionaries from the other church. She had a study session planned for Monday.

“We gave her a Book of Mormon, read her the promise in Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5], and scheduled an appointment for Tuesday. The next week when we arrived, Carol was waiting for us—and so were two men. She had changed her study session from Monday to Tuesday.

“We sat down and began talking about the differences in our beliefs. We talked and talked, and I remember not being very well informed on their doctrines or even our own. I wasn’t able to cross-reference my scriptures well enough to know what was going on.

“Carol finally brought our discussion to a close and asked the two men to leave. ‘I want the Mormon missionaries to stay for just five minutes,’ she said.

“‘Oh, here we go,’ I thought. ‘She’s going to tell us to take a hike and give the Book of Mormon back to us.’ The two men left, and I asked her if she was completely confused.

“‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I’m not confused. I know now just what I want. Up to this point I thought the other church I was studying had all the truth. But I can see now that I have to read the Book of Mormon because I know there is more. I need to know what is actually true.’

“She said her views about a premortal life and the personality and nature of God were very similar to what we had taught her. She already believed in those things, but she couldn’t defend them against the other church because she didn’t have any knowledge of the scriptures.

“We came in, and with a basic knowledge of what the scriptures actually teach, were able to explain to her those basic doctrines. The Lord blessed her to be able to see the truth through the confusion of the discussion that Tuesday, and she knew then she had to investigate to find more truth.

“I received a transfer when Carol was still reading the Book of Mormon, but I later heard that she and her husband were baptized.”

This experience changed Kyle’s focus during his scripture study. He felt he could have used the scriptures more effectively by being able to cross-reference. Tying together several scriptures to explain one doctrine gives a fuller meaning and brings greater understanding of the topic.

“I realized you can’t just take one scripture out of context to prove what you believe or teach. You have to give the whole picture, supporting the scripture with the events that were going on when it was written.

“I studied more intently after that experience. I studied for a purpose—to answer questions. I wanted to learn something—not just read.

Once, for my wife’s birthday, I gave her a pair of wonderful gold earrings. They suited her very well since she has a long, graceful neck, and the earrings were made in the shape of concentric circles bound together so they could move and play in the sunlight. My wife, Yelena, looked stunning whenever she wore them. She loved these earrings.

Then came the day of that best of all holiday celebrations, our branch Christmas party. I was in charge of this activity for our branch in Penza, Russia, so I was hurrying, wanting to get there as quickly as possible to make sure everything was ready for the activity. Yelena did not hurry but continued carefully getting ready. When my patience gave out, I told her to stop with her makeup, insisting that she looks great even without it. That was my mistake. She told me that she wasn’t going anywhere, and I would have to go to the party alone.

This led to a petty argument, and we said unkind words to each other. In the end she didn’t follow through with her threat, but in the car on the way to the activity we didn’t speak one word to each other, as if we were complete strangers.

Our Christmas party was held in the large auditorium of a nearby school. Friends and fellow branch members had helped us decorate the room with flowers and pictures of our Lord’s life and death. When we arrived we sat down in our seats, and my wife discovered that she was wearing only one earring. This was an unpleasant surprise, and we completely forgot about our argument. We looked all around us, but in vain—the earring was nowhere to be found. We decided it would be best to forget about it for the moment and watch the wonderful concert our friends had prepared.

Although the concert really was fabulous, my wife and I weren’t able to fully enjoy it. Our day was spoiled, and we returned home in low spirits. We were sad to lose the earring, not only because it was expensive and beautiful, but more important because it was a gift of love for my wife.

When I woke up the next day, I realized we had lost something else much more important than a gold earring: the unity between us. Turning to Yelena, I said, “Look at this other earring. See how beautiful it is and how the light plays on it. Think about how much gold and effort were required to make it, and see how it’s just lying there alone on your table. Once the other was lost, it turned into something far less than when it was part of a pair. We are like this also. When we are united, we can be a beautiful, powerful, and creative force for good. But when we are not united, we don’t have the same strength, power, or beauty.”

Tears appeared on my wife’s face. She came over and embraced me. Her voice shook as she spoke, but her words touched me from head to toe: “We should never argue. We should be like Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. We love each other, and we had our marriage sealed for eternity in the holy temple. The devil wants to destroy all families on earth, but he can’t do it if we are united. I love you even more after this incident. God has shown us what a family really is.”

I held her in my arms, tears streaming down my cheeks. Now I knew that I held in my arms my greatest blessing.

I also have a small, thatched-roof cottage in my cart, given to me by a family I baptized on my mission in Ireland and the Isle of Man. It reminds me of a precious miracle that happened after my mission.

From the moment I arrived in Ireland, my desire, hope, and dream was for my father and mother to be able to see the beauties of that country. My parents were not well off financially, and the possibility of them coming to pick me up at the close of my mission was not very great. To my great surprise and joy, my parents saved enough money to come to Ireland and “pick me up.” What a glorious two weeks we had as I took them to see castles and such. But the miracle was not in their coming. It was what happened when they came. My father had suffered from a disease which rendered him legally blind. My mother would often say, “It would be useless for your father to come to Ireland, for he could see little of the beauties you speak of.” But they came, and while they were there, my father’s vision greatly improved. He was able to see and enjoy so much. I rejoiced, for it was my prayer that my parents could see what I had seen. Upon returning home, his vision worsened and returned to how it was before the journey. Every time I see this small cottage, I think upon the miracle in Ireland. I thank God my father could see as I prayed he could. It is a tender mercy I treasure and will take to heaven with me.

And there is a higher interpretation of the principle of peace. The Savior is the Prince of Peace. Great interpretations have been given to that title. One of the finest that I have ever heard in my life was by President Lee. President Joseph Fielding Smith had just died. President Lee was now the brand-new prophet. His first major meeting as the prophet was in Mexico at an area conference down there. His first press conference as prophet was there, and President Lee was asked a trap question.

Now there are all kinds of trap questions. A trap question is a question to which you can’t say yes and you can’t say no. The traditional trap question is, “Have you stopped beating your wife?” You can’t say “Yes, I’ve stopped” or “No, I haven’t stopped.” Whatever you say, you’re wrong.

President Joseph F. Smith, back at the turn of the century, in Washington, D.C., was asked a trap question by reporters. That question was, “Are you a prophet of God?” If he said yes, they were going to say, “Well, prophesy something for us, tell us something important that’s going to happen. Any earthquakes coming up?” Whatever he said, they were going to ridicule him. They had it all planned. If he said “No, I’m not a prophet,” they would say, “Well, the Mormon prophet says he’s not a prophet.” They would ridicule him yes or no. His inspired answer, when they pulled that trap question on him, was, “I am so sustained by the members of the Church.” They couldn’t do anything with that, and he gained their understanding.

Now back to President Lee in Mexico City. Hostile, foreign, international, sophisticated reporters pulled a political question on him. “What is your position with regard to the Vietnam involvement—the Vietnam War?” Some of you may not remember that particular time in history. It was a hot political issue, the Hawks against the Doves—there was an element of patriotism. Our government and our leaders of the nation were involved and said, “We should be there.” But there was a growing opposition to it. It has since been reconciled to the satisfaction of some, not to the satisfaction of others. But, at that point, if President Lee said, “I’m in favor of being there,” they would headline it, “How strange, a religious leader in favor of war.” If President Lee said, “I’m against it,” they would say, “How strange, a religious leader who pretends to support his government—it is one of their articles of faith—is against his own government.”

Either way it was a difficult question. President Lee’s answer was classic. It was inspiration from the Lord. It was a higher interpretation. He said, “We, together with the entire Christian world, abhor wars.” Then he said, “The Savior, however, said that in the world there would be tribulations. He said, ‘In me ye might have peace’” (John 16:33). Then President Lee went on to say, “The Savior said, ‘Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you’’” (John 14:27). It’s even more beautiful in Spanish: “La paz os dejo, mi paz os doy; no como el mundo la da, yo os la doy. No se turbe vuestro corazón, ni tenga miedo.” It’s more poetic in Spanish. (I just had to do that for the returned missionaries from Latin America.)

President Lee went on to say, “The Savior was not talking about the kind of peace that you can win with armies and navies and bombs and rockets. He was talking about the kind of peace a person can have in his own heart, no matter what kind of tribulations there may be in the world.” He so won the understanding and sympathy of those worldly reporters that they gave good coverage to the conference, and excellent coverage to President Lee as a religious leader. They learned from him—they learned the higher interpretation.

As I’ve reflected on this experience, I’ve quizzed myself, How well do I remember those two memorization requirements? I discovered I could still name the Twelve Apostles that existed at that time—Rudger Clawson, Reed Smoot, George Albert Smith, George F. Richards, David O. McKay, Joseph Fielding Smith, Stephen L Richards, Richard R. Lyman, Melvin J. Ballard, John A. Widtsoe, Joseph F. Merrill, and Charles A. Callis. But after the first five articles of faith, I had trouble remembering their order and their full content. I needed a refresher course! I photocopied the Articles of Faith from the scriptures and taped them to the wall of my bathroom where I could see them each morning as I was brushing my teeth and shaving. Within a very few days, I again had them firmly in mind. This experience has brought a deep conviction to me that they were given by revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith. I reached the conclusion that if I studied the content of each of the Articles of Faith, I could explain and defend every gospel principle I might have the opportunity to expound to someone searching for the restored truth.

Erin K., from North Carolina, USA, and her family (left) have always had one goal in mind: to become an eternal family. However, Erin’s father was not a member of the Church.
“Of course my mom and siblings wanted my dad to share in the blessings of the gospel. The gospel of Jesus Christ made us happy, and we wanted Dad to share in that happiness. We also all desperately wanted to be sealed together as a family,” Erin says.
Determined to become a forever family, Erin and her siblings and mother did all they could to keep the commandments and develop strong faith, and they prayed together for their father’s heart to be touched by the gospel.
Though it took several years, Erin’s father was finally baptized and confirmed. Ten days after his baptism, he was able to baptize Erin’s younger brother and sister. Soon their family will reach their goal of being sealed in the temple.

That was not the end of the Lord’s blessings to me. At the end of their senior year, all dental students have to take practical tests—performing procedures on patients while professors watch and grade their performance. If you don’t do well on these practical tests, you don’t graduate. In the early winter of my senior year, I slipped on a patch of ice and broke my right arm. Immediately I felt grateful that it was only January, assuming the cast would come off in six weeks. But I was informed I had broken the scaphoid in my wrist, one of the most difficult bones to heal. I would be in a cast for six months. In despair, I realized I couldn’t work on patients with a cast on my right arm.
I asked for a priesthood blessing. In that blessing I was told not to fear, all would be well. After some weeks I discovered that my fingers were perfectly agile, even with the cast on. When I arrived at the testing area, the professors shook their heads, insisting there was no possibility I could perform the necessary procedures. I asked them to let me try, and if they were not satisfied I would withdraw. Each patient looked surprised upon seeing my cast, but I was able to perform the procedures to the complete approval of the examining professors. I graduated in the top of my class.

In addition to personal growth, the clowns have been rewarded for their hard work with wonderful memories. “The first time we visited the hospital, we were all scared to death. We weren’t sure how we were going to work with crippled children. But they really responded, and it was a wonderful experience. When we finished we asked the nurse if there were any children who hadn’t been able to come.
“She took us to the room of a boy who had literally had his face ripped off in a car wreck. It looked like his face had been run through a meat grinder. He was so self-conscious that he wouldn’t come out of his room.
“So we were very careful. We walked in and said ‘Hi, we missed you. We wanted to give you a special balloon.’ At first he was really timid. But then he started to respond. And I was so proud of the clowns. They didn’t look away from him. They looked right at him and let him know that they cared about him.
“By the time they were finished, that boy was talking. He was friendly. He knew that he was somebody important, and that there were three or four clowns in that room who cared about him. He told us about his upcoming surgery, and we all wished him the best. It was one of the most giving experiences of our lives.”