Gospel Story Finder

Min-Jun stared out the window at the clouds. “It looks like it will rain tomorrow,” he said.
Grandfather looked up from his newspaper and nodded. It was late summer in Seoul, South Korea, and monsoon season had begun.
Min-Jun set an umbrella next to his clothes for Sunday. “I think we should leave early tomorrow.”
Grandfather smiled. “Good idea. We’ll have to walk the longer way, in case the lower road floods.”
“Do you think the Church building will be all right?” Min-Jun asked. Last year the basement had flooded during monsoon season.
“Yes,” said Grandfather. “But it never hurts to pray.”
“Then I’ll pray for the church tonight. And that we can make it there safely. Jal-ja-yo (good night).” Min-Jun bowed and went to bed.
In the morning they left the apartment early. Min-Jun looked up at the dark clouds that filled the sky.
“Have faith,” Grandfather said.
Min-Jun followed Grandfather up the narrow staircase on the hill near their apartment. They paused at the top to catch their breath. Their white shirts were already damp from the heavy humidity in the air.
Grandfather held out his hand to feel the first raindrops. “Do you feel that? The rain is starting.”
They opened up their umbrellas. By the time they reached the next staircase, the rain was coming down fast. Min-Jun squinted to see each step through the rain. “Whoa!” he cried as he slipped and landed on his knee.
“Are you hurt?” Grandfather asked. He leaned down to look at the hole in Min-Jun’s trousers.
“It’s just a scrape,” Min-Jun said, his voice shaking.
“We can fix it up at the church,” said Grandfather.
Min-Jun and Grandfather climbed the rest of the stairs and turned onto the upper road.
“The wind is worse up here,” Grandfather said, clutching his umbrella. Min-Jun could barely control his umbrella. Suddenly a gust of wind came and flipped it inside out, tearing the umbrella at the seams. Min-Jun’s shoulders drooped.
Grandfather held out his umbrella. “Come under mine. We’re almost there.”
Min-Jun and Grandfather shared the umbrella, but it did little to keep out the constant rain. As they came near the church, Min-Jun heard music playing.
“They’ve already started!” Min-Jun ran to the front doors. Then he saw his reflection in the glass. His hair was matted and dripping, his trousers were torn, and his shoes were muddy. He shrank away from the door and back down the steps.
“I … I can’t go in,” Min-Jun stuttered.
“You’re just fine,” Grandfather said.
“But I’m all dirty and wet!”
Grandfather looked at Min-Jun, then looked at the rain gauge tied to the fence.
“It’s easy to measure the rain, Min-Jun, but how do we measure ourselves?”
Min-Jun blinked up at Grandfather.
“You see muddy shoes, a scraped knee, and messy hair, and you think you don’t measure up to much,” Grandfather said. “But Jesus Christ has a better way of measuring. He sees your heart and knows that you’re doing what’s right. If you measure yourself His way, you’ll see that the gauge is overflowing.”
Min-Jun looked at the rain gauge. It kept rising with each raindrop. He thought of how hard he had worked to get to church and how warm and happy he felt when he was there. He thought about how much he loved the Savior and how much the Savior loved him.
Min-Jun hugged Grandfather, and together they walked into church.

This last year my teenage daughter registered for several AP and honors courses. At the end of a particularly difficult term, as she faced finals week and was under maximum stress, I asked one morning what I could do to help her. She replied that she needed to finish a sculpture, a covered bowl in the shape of a turtle, later after school. I could help by soaking the turtle in water so that the clay would be more pliable when she came home from school. She left for school, and I proceeded to unwrap the turtle dish. I filled the sink with water and submerged the turtle. My daughter had told me to let it soak for a few minutes. I determined that 10 minutes would be good and went about other business. I lost track of time, eventually realized my error, and returned to the bathroom sink. I reached into the water with both hands, and, as I removed them, the shapeless turtle dripped through my fingers and disappeared back into the water. In wanting to help, I had made things far worse. How would I explain this when my daughter came home? Would this be one of those events that would damage her for life? Would she look back on her high school years and remember nothing but how her father murdered the clay turtle by drowning it in the sink? You see, I believe our greatest fear as parents is that our children might in some way be like us. I wasn’t sure that I would handle this situation particularly well if the sides were reversed.

When my daughter arrived home from school, I was anxiously waiting. I had practiced many speeches in my mind. Some of them were more filled with admissions of responsibility than others. I started by telling her that I had something awful to tell her. When she heard about the demise of the turtle, she smiled and simply said, “Dad, you really owe me one for this.” She is by nature forgiving, and my imperfections had once again failed to damage her too much.

When I was serving as a mission president in Arizona, I had the privilege of interviewing a fine woman who had accepted the gospel and desired to be baptized. I asked her if her husband consented to her baptism. She answered that he did and that he also was interested in the gospel. She said, however, that he could not be baptized because he suffered terribly from arthritis. Also, the doctors had told him that if he quit smoking, his ulcers would perforate, probably resulting in his death.

I told her that she ought to wait until her husband could be baptized with her. I read her the promises in section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants, which we know to be the Word of Wisdom:
And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.
And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them. [D&C 89:18–21]
I told her that I do not usually go against the counsel of physicians, but in this case, I promised that if her husband would quit smoking, the Lord would bless him and he would be able to be baptized.

She agreed and went home to talk with her husband. He accepted the promise with great faith, placing his hope in Christ above his trust in the doctors. They went through the house and gathered every cigarette they could find. Then they carefully shredded the cigarettes, burned the paper, and disposed of the tobacco. The next morning, the wife awoke to find that her husband was not in bed. He had been in the shower and was getting dressed. This was the first time in many years that his wife had not had to help him get out of bed and help him get dressed. They were baptized two weeks later, and he continued to enjoy his independence in spite of his illnesses.

John Taylor was in Carthage Jail with the Prophet Joseph and Hyrum Smith when the two brothers were murdered. Unable to ward off the angry mob with a hickory walking stick that belonged to Stephen Markham, he turned and ran to the window. Before he could leap, however, a shot struck him in the thigh. Then another came through the window and would have entered his chest, killing him, but instead was stopped by a silver watch in his vest pocket. Three more bullets struck him, spattering his blood upon the walls and floor. Dr. Willard Richards dragged Elder Taylor into an inner cell and covered him with an old mattress to protect him. Many weeks later when he had recovered, he joined the Saints traveling west.

It reminded me of the Palo Alto Institute of Religion and George Pace and Eugene England. Both Brother Pace and Brother England have taught at BYU for years. I would like to pay tribute to them for helping me. As a freshman I thought institute would be like my seminary class. I started attending it with the same chip on my shoulder—trying to think of challenging questions. Brother Pace and Brother England were always upbeat. They never lost their patience. I started listening to their stories and thinking about the gospel and, for the first time, reading the Book of Mormon. Did it help that I was intensely homesick and worried that I would fail? Yes, it did. Homesickness is often fertile soil in which the seeds of testimony may grow. Nonetheless, I am grateful for their steadiness, their knowledge, and their friendship while I progressed from unpleasant disregard to pleasant regard to complete attention. Were it not for them, I might not have chosen to go on a mission, which turned out to be the most important experience of my young life.

In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5

When he was a boy, President George Albert Smith was taught this principle by Karl G. Maeser. Years later he told a seminary graduating class, “A thirteen-year-old boy, whose thoughts galloped around as mine did couldn’t understand why I should be held accountable for my thoughts. I was sure Dr. Maeser was a truthful man; but I couldn’t understand how I could be charged for my thoughts because I couldn’t control them.” President Smith fretted over this idea, which stuck to him “like a burr” until one day it came to him “like a flash from the sky … of course you will be held accountable for your thoughts.” He explained, “When your life is complete in mortality, it will be the sum of your thoughts” (George Albert Smith Collection, Univ. of Utah, ms 36, Scrapbook 1, p. 256; ChurchNews, 16 Feb. 1946, p. 1).

Scott was asked to give a talk in his sacrament meeting in the Bluebell Ward, Altamont Utah Stake. He chose to talk about his involvement in raising guide dogs. He read the scripture, “For behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; … Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness” (D&C 58:26–27). Scott explained that raising puppies to be guide dogs is a way he can help others. It’s a good cause that takes lots of time and daily devotion. Scott explains, “Kennel dogs won’t make it as guide dogs because the puppies have to be raised with love. We don’t really have to worry about teaching them, but our responsibility is to love and care for them.”

In early Church history, the Prophet Joseph, Emma, and their 11-month-old twins, Joseph and Julia, were in Hiram, Ohio, at the John and Alice Johnson home. Both of the children were suffering from measles. Joseph and his little son were sleeping on a trundle bed near the front door.
During the night a group of men with black-painted faces burst through the door and dragged the Prophet outside, where they beat him and threw tar on him and Sidney Rigdon.
The most tragic part of this mobbing was that little Joseph was exposed to the night air and caught a severe cold when his father was dragged away. As a result, he died a few days later.2
Those who participated in the Martyrdom of the Prophet and his brother Hyrum also painted their faces to hide their true identities.3

In 1985, Elder Russell M. Nelson asked the Czech government to officially recognize the Church. He was told that a Czech citizen had to ask. He and Elder Hans B. Ringger went to the home of Brother Snederfler and asked him if he would make the request. Despite the possibility of imprisonment—or even death—Brother Snederfler responded, “I will go. I will do it! We will do whatever is needed. This is for the Lord, and His work is more important than our freedom or life.”** The members of the Church fasted and prayed for Brother Snederfler, whom the government brought in for questioning every month after he made the request.

On February 21, 1990, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was officially recognized. The members could now worship without fear. Missionaries returned to teach the gospel to the Czech people. And Elder Russell M. Nelson went to a wooded area near Karlstejn Castle and rededicated the land to the preaching of the gospel. It was a time of great joy, especially for the Czech pioneers who saw the long journey’s end.

Touching on career choices, Elder Maxwell stated, “Whether one is a neurosurgeon, forest ranger, mechanic, farmer, or teacher is a matter of preference not principle.” So how do you choose when there are so many options? I am occasionally asked how I ended up in my current assignment and what I did to prepare for it. Honestly, it has been a rather circuitous route, as you could tell from my background given in the introduction. There is still more to the story. I knew what my aptitudes were and had confidence Heavenly Father would guide my footsteps as I sought His guidance in making choices. When I first started in college, I majored in chemistry and thought I wanted to go into dentistry and become an orthodontist. After a while, I reached the conclusion that for me personally I would be “down in the mouth” too much in that profession, so I decided perhaps I would become a chemistry teacher. Then I went on a mission.
After I came home my interests were different, so I changed my major to accounting and ended up going into the business world. Several years into my career, I started working for the Church.
One day after a meeting, President Hinckley invited me into his office and asked if I would take this assignment within the Church Educational System. Like you would be, I was anxious to do whatever the prophet wanted me to do, so here I am.
Although educational interests and career choices are a matter of personal preference, our Heavenly Father is interested in the details of our lives. He knows us and He understands what our talents are. He also knows where we need to be stretched in order to accomplish His purposes. He will help us as we make these important choices if we earnestly seek His guidance.

During the message I delivered at general conference in October 1975, I felt prompted to direct my remarks to a little girl with long, blonde hair, who was seated in the balcony of this building. I called the attention of the audience to her and felt a freedom of expression which testified to me that this small girl needed the message I had in mind concerning the faith of another young lady.

At the conclusion of the session, I returned to my office and found waiting for me a young child by the name of Misti White, together with her grandparents and an aunt. As I greeted them, I recognized Misti as the one in the balcony to whom I had directed my remarks. I learned that as her eighth birthday approached, she was in a quandary concerning whether or not to be baptized. She felt she would like to be baptized, and her grandparents, with whom she lived, wanted her to be baptized, but her less-active mother suggested she wait until she was 18 years of age to make the decision. Misti had told her grandparents, “If we go to conference in Salt Lake City, maybe Heavenly Father will let me know what I should do.”

Misti and her grandparents and her aunt had traveled from California to Salt Lake City for conference and were able to obtain seats in the Tabernacle for the Saturday afternoon session. This was where they were seated when my attention was drawn to Misti and my decision made to speak to her.

As we continued our visit after the session, Misti’s grandmother said to me, “I think Misti has something she would like to tell you.” This sweet young girl said, “Brother Monson, while you were speaking in conference, you answered my question. I want to be baptized!”

The family returned to California, and Misti was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Through all the years since, Misti has remained true and faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Fourteen years ago, it was my privilege to perform her temple marriage to a fine young man, and together they are rearing five beautiful children, with another one on the way.

The English author and medical doctor A. J. Cronin has thrilled all who have read his books. I remember reading of an experience he had before a single manuscript of his had ever been printed. He had given up writing because of discouragement and had thrown a bundled manuscript into the trash can. While walking down the lock shore a little later that day in a drizzling rain, he came upon his friend Old Angus, a farmer who was laboriously ditching a patch of the bogged and peaty heath. He reported to Angus what he had done. With disappointment in his voice, Angus said, “No doubt you’re the one that’s right, doctor, and I am the one that is wrong.” He seemed to look right to the bottom of Mr. Cronin. “My father ditched this bog all his days and never made a pasture. But pasture or no pasture I canna help but dig. For my father knew, and I know, that if you only dig enough, pasture can be made here.” Cronin understood, he tramped back to his place of abode—drenched, shamed, and furious—and retrieved the soggy bundle from the trash can. After writing furiously for three more months, he had created a book that sold more than three million copies. He had learned the importance of perseverance.

One day I saw my oldest son, Wilford, preparing a tithing envelope. He was probably around five years old at the time. Wilford didn’t earn any money, so I wondered why he was paying tithing. When I asked him, he told me he was actually paying a fast offering.
Wilford didn’t have much money of his own. But he was still excited to pay a fast offering.
I was impressed by this act of kindness. I asked him why he had decided to do this.
Wilford answered, “I don’t have any needs. But I know others do.” He knew his money would help people. He was very happy about that.
This simple experience taught me a good lesson: children are really in tune with the Spirit and have a natural Christlike love. Wilford had something he didn’t need and knew it would be helpful to other people. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
Saving money is good. But my young son taught me another lesson through his example. By listening to the Spirit, we can bless the lives of others when we share what we have.

My wife, Jacqui, and I were called to serve in Africa in 2016. Before coming, I asked for advice from Elder Carl B. Cook who had just completed his assignment as the Africa Southeast Area President. He said something very wise that I have since found to be absolutely true: “You think that you will teach the Saints, but actually they will teach you.”
You have taught us how to forgive. In countries such as South Africa and Rwanda, brutal past experiences could have forever filled future generations with hate and bitterness. Yet time and time again, we have witnessed extraordinary examples of converts who are living the Lord’s teachings that we are to “forgive all men”,1 even those who “hate you . . . despitefully use you, and persecute you”.2
You have taught us the essence of ministering. And how caring for each other in a time of need is an integral part of the African culture. I recall being in a leadership meeting in Gaborone, Botswana where the new higher and holier form of home teaching was being introduced and would be called ministering. Afterwards I was talking with a brother who said with a puzzled look, “This should be easy for us, as ministering is what we already naturally do in Africa.”
You have taught us of true riches. Some of you live in prosperous circumstances yet remain humble and serve faithfully. Others we have met might be judged by the world to be poor. Yet as I think of many cherished and sacred memories visiting members in their homes and places of worship, I feel like Paul in describing this latter group “as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.”3
You have taught us about the connection between happiness and giving of ourselves. The following quote from Elder Dunstan G. Chadambuka, whilst serving as president of the Botswana/Namibia Mission, captures this connection:
“I have had multiple opportunities to visit members and investigators in our mission, along with senior missionary couples. One observation I have made from visiting these homes, and also my experience from being a local and having a deeper understanding of the cultures and ways of living of our people is [this]: their circumstances may appear to be dire in terms of basic temporal possessions, but I have never seen a happier people who are thankful and content with what the Lord has blessed them with. Even in their supposed poverty they are willing to share the little they have.
“I have witnessed (foreign) senior couples especially, break down in tears [out of sympathy for the dire temporal circumstances of some of our members] and I am often left wondering why they feel so much pity for these brave, happy and content people . . . in fact, a person with a million dollars in his pocket could not be happier.”4
You have taught us about pure testimony. On our first Sunday in Africa, we attended a sacrament meeting in the Protea Glen ward in the Soweto Stake. Every talk we heard from the pulpit that day was Christ-centered and included pure testimony of the Saviour and His atoning sacrifice. We have found this to be the case over and over in sacrament meetings throughout Africa. As with the Nephites, it can be said of you; “we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ . . . that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”5
You have taught us unity. We feel strength in diversity, and we feel true unity as brothers and sisters of many backgrounds and races serving side by side in the Lord’s kingdom. The Book of Mormon clearly teaches that “all are alike unto God.”6
The first doctrine taught by the missionaries is that we are all children of a Heavenly Father which quite simply means we are literally brothers and sisters in the family of God. The Apostle Paul described what happens as we embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ by saying: “Therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.”7 And so it is that Sister Palmer and I have never felt like strangers or foreigners while amongst the Saints, even though we are from foreign lands. We know new converts of different nationalities and races feel the same acceptance and sense of belonging as we worship together and minister to one another in love.
You have taught us about JOY. We shall never forget the overwhelming joy of the Saints at the Kinshasa and Durban temple dedications. The pure joy of those who gathered in Harare and Nairobi to hear from our newly sustained prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, along with Sister Wendy Nelson and Elder Jeffrey R. and Sister Patricia Holland. The joy of over 7,000 Saints in Johannesburg who heard Elder Holland proclaim that “the answer to every problem in Africa can be found in the gospel of Jesus Christ.” And in smaller settings, the joy we feel from new converts and from those going to the temple for the very first time as they bind themselves to Christ in sacred covenants. President Nelson gave a landmark talk in 2016 titled “Joy and Spiritual Survival.” In that talk he made a statement that pierced my soul as I pondered the challenging circumstances so many members find themselves facing in Africa. “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.
When the focus . . . is on . . . Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”8

The heat was sweltering, and it was raining heavily. Still, the missionaries continued down the road, a mix of perspiration and rain rolling off their backs and faces. To their left and right were the humble houses of the people of Hong Kong.
As they walked, Elder Tavita Sagapolu seemed a giant. Standing 1.8 meters tall and weighing over 120 kilos, the former college football star, who was now a full-time missionary, towered over most of the people in this city. And now he discovered that he towered over their homes, too. The buildings came up only to his chin.
After approaching one of the houses, Tavita’s more experienced companion, who had been on his mission several months, turned to the young Samoan man and offered to let him knock on the door. This would be the first door Tavita would knock on since arriving in Hong Kong, and it would be an experience that he would remember throughout his life.
Tavita shook with nervousness as he prepared to knock. “My mouth went dry and refused to open,” he recalls. Nonetheless, he mustered the courage to approach the door, a door so small he had to kneel down to knock.
“As I was kneeling there, I forgot how strong I was. I didn’t even have to knock—my hand was shaking so much that all I had to do was put my arm up to the door.” Before Tavita knew what was happening, the door fell in under the weight of his arm. Panic swept through him as he tried to put the door back on its hinges before anyone came.
Suddenly, an elderly woman appeared at the door. When she opened it, it fell on her. She came out screaming. “I grabbed my companion and put him in front of me. I said to the woman, ‘Here, talk to him!’ The memory of that little old woman’s face after the door fell down will always be with me.” Now, when he recalls the episode, Tavita chuckles.

That one sentence, “It was worse than I ever anticipated,” contains an agony of heartbreak. What it meant was that her mother forbade her to reenter her childhood home. Her husband told her she must choose between her family and her faith; weeping in anguish, she refused to deny her testimony, and he abandoned her and her four little girls. Elizabeth found work in a woolen mill, laboring with the baby in a basket by the loom, and managing to support them all. Seeing her undefeated, William returned and took all four children to London. Under the law, there was nothing she could do to stop him or reclaim them.

The spirit of Family Past in our doctrine also includes our appreciation for Adam and Eve, our first mortal parents. Our understanding of Family Past reaches even further back, prior to Eden, prior to the earth's creation--to our family relationship with God himself. Through the Restoration, we know that each of us lived in a pre-earth life with God, the literal father of our individual spirits. I recently met a bright and vivacious new Church member from Illinois whose discovery of the doctrine of our pre-mortal life was the turning point in her conversion. These ideas rang so true and meant so much to her that she just kept telling everybody, "We lived before! We lived before!"

One of my first experiences in being restrained by the Spirit came soon after I was called as a counselor in a stake presidency in Chicago. In one of our first stake presidency meetings our stake president made a proposal that our new stake center be built in a particular location. I immediately saw four or five good reasons why that was the wrong location. When asked for my counsel, I opposed the proposal, giving each of those reasons. The stake president wisely proposed that each of us consider the matter prayerfully for a week and discuss it further in our next meeting. Almost perfunctorily I prayed about the subject and immediately received a strong impression that I was wrong, that I was standing in the way of the Lord’s will, and that I should remove myself from opposition to it. Needless to say, I was restrained and promptly gave my approval to the proposed construction. Incidentally, the wisdom of constructing the stake center at that location was soon evident, even to me. My reasons to the contrary turned out to be short-sighted, and I was soon grateful to have been restrained from relying on them.

Shortly after the flight I had the opportunity to show Sister Sharlene Wells, our Miss America, around the space center. She asked me if it didn’t seem uncomfortable going into space upside down. I explained that in space you always feel right side up and stationary. The earth turns below you. If somebody’s head is pointing toward your feet, he is the one who is upside down. At lift-off, the earth simply rotates to a position above your head, but that is the earth’s problem.
Later at a fireside, Sister Wells made a comment about that situation that I think is very meaningful. In many things we do, the world thinks we are completely upside down. They think our moral values are foolish, our standards are restrictive, and our beliefs are quaint but outdated. The important thing is that we make sure that we keep ourselves right side up, aligned with the Lord, even if it makes the whole world look upside down.