Gospel Story Finder

Sometimes in our experience we also find people we tend to want to “chalk off.” We may consider someone a person who will never make it. In my young days, that person probably was Thorval Pattee. Thorval lived on the outskirts of town in Portland. His was a poor family; they didn’t have anything. We were part of the same Sunday School class that used to drive teacher after teacher out in despair. You remember those days, too. World War II came, and Thorval Pattee enlisted in the marines. He was in a battle in the South Pacific when a mortar shell fell into the foxhole with him and several of his buddies. Thorval lifted up the mortar shell to throw it out. It exploded at the last minute, filled him with shrapnel, and blew his hand nearly off, until it hung by a thread of skin. With his own knife he cut his hand off and then returned to get medical aid.
I saw Thorval when the war was over. There was a knock on my door at my home in Portland. I opened it up, and there he was—discharged now—with an ex-marine hat on and a T-shirt covered back and forth with wires, straps, and pullies that manipulated the hook that replaced his right hand. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and he was a bitter, cynical young man. We talked and visited, and I wondered what would happen to Thorval Pattee.
In contrast to Thorval, there was another young man in our Sunday School class who was the good boy. This was Daryl Porter. Do you have any Daryl Porters in your Sunday School class, the one who is always quiet, the one who is always good, the one whose name is always brought up when your mother says “Why can’t you be like Daryl Porter?” The years went by, and I saw neither Thorval Pattee nor Daryl Porter. Then, not long ago, after many years had gone by and I’d been at BYU for some time, I received a phone call one evening. A voice from the past said “Bill, this is Thorval Pattee.” I was delighted and I said, “Where are you?”
“I’m here in Provo.”
“Why are you here in Provo?”
“I am here to see my daughter graduate from BYU.”
“Well, come up. I’d like to have a chance to visit.” So Thorval and his wife came to spend an evening with me and my family. I found out that at some point he had decided to go back to church, and a fine young lady at church had seen something there that others had not seen. She was able to respond to that, and he to her. So they were married, later sealed in the temple. They had a very fine family. He became the early morning seminary teacher in his small community and now was at BYU to watch his daughter graduate. Truly in the case of Thorval the race was not to the swift nor the battle to the strong, but to him who endures to the end.
Now the race is not yet over for Thorval Pattee. I asked him about Daryl Porter, and he said, “As far as I know, Daryl dropped out of the Church after the service was over and has never come back again.” But hopefully Daryl Porter has not yet given up in the race.

Lucia wiped away a tear. She didn’t want the other kids to see. She left the school grounds and hurried toward home.
Lucia lived on a small, beautiful island. She was the only member of the Church at school. Everybody else went to the same church. They teased Lucia and wouldn’t play with her because she was different.
That wasn’t the only problem. Sometimes the teachers ignored Lucia when she raised her hand.
“But today was the worst!” Lucia thought. She kicked a pebble down the road. During class, the teacher read some Bible verses that Lucia didn’t understand. They made it sound like Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost were the same person. Then the teacher said there were some churches that didn’t believe what the Bible taught. She looked straight at Lucia. Everybody in class laughed.
Lucia was confused. Weren’t Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost separate? What was going on?
Suddenly she had a happy thought. She could ask the missionaries! They came to Lucia’s village every day. “They’ll know how to help!” she thought.
When Lucia got home, she saw Sister Brown and Sister Ruiz. They were helping pump water up to a tank on the roof.
Lucia asked her question right away. “Why does the Bible say Heavenly Father and Jesus are the same person?”
Sister Brown smiled. “That’s a good question. After lunch let’s look for some scriptures to help.”
Lucia hardly tasted any of the yummy ropa vieja stew Mama had made. All she wanted was the answer!
Finally lunch was over. Lucia and the missionaries opened their scriptures. They read about Joseph Smith’s vision. Then they read about Jesus’s baptism. Both scriptures showed that Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost were separate.
“So why do those other scriptures say they’re the same?” asked Lucia.
Sister Brown started turning the pages. “Let’s read in John 17. That’s where Jesus prays to Heavenly Father about His Apostles.”
They all took turns reading. In the scriptures, Jesus prayed that His Apostles “may be one” like He and Heavenly Father are one. Lucia counted three different times He said it.
“The Apostles couldn’t all become the same person,” Sister Ruiz said. “But they could become one in how they believed and acted. That’s how Heavenly Father, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost are one.”
Lucia began to feel warm inside. She knew it was the Holy Ghost. He was telling her that what Sister Ruiz said was true.
Heavenly Father and Jesus weren’t the same person. But They were the same in what They said and did. And Lucia knew that They both loved her.

A woman who was required to move frequently because of her husband’s employment was planting flower bulbs in her yard. Her neighbor stopping to watch asked her, “Why do you bother planting these bulbs when you know you won’t be here when they bloom next spring?”
“I may not be here,” the woman replied, “but someone else will. I always try to leave my homes, temporary as they may be, a little more beautiful because I was there.”

As a single woman, I am used to being careful about safety. But in the weeks before my trip to the Atlanta Georgia Temple, my usual concern escalated into a recurring nightmare in which a man mugged me, getting away with my credit cards, checks, and driver’s license. My concern became so great that the day before leaving for the temple, I checked my wallet three times to make sure everything—including my temple recommend—was still there.
That same evening I went to a party with my wallet in my purse, along with a small mirror and the tube of lipstick I am never without. After parking my car and adding my keys to my purse, I started toward the church where the party was underway. I was alone in a big city, but I wasn’t afraid. Having asked for the Lord’s protection earlier that evening, I felt safe.
As I walked up a path, I sensed someone behind me and turned to see a man running at me with lightning speed. There was a sharp tug on my purse, a strong hand on my arm, and I heard, “Give me your purse!” As I struggled to free myself, my purse flew across the broad lawn, landing in the nearby bushes. I cried out, but the man ran, retrieving my purse as he left.
After calling the police, I found an empty room in the church where I could send a silent prayer up to Heavenly Father. “I don’t understand,” I thought, fighting tears. “I was going to the temple tomorrow! Now he has my temple recommend! Father, why wasn’t I protected?” Feeling helpless and hopeless, I went out to face the police officers.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Thomas. The officers didn’t find anything—not the thief, not your purse,” I was told. But as the police officers and I walked to my car, an impression came to me.
“I’m going to look in the grass to see if anything fell out of my purse, OK?” I tried not to get my hopes up, but when I saw something metallic reflecting light from the streetlamps, I scooped it up triumphantly and shouted, “My keys! My keys are here!” I said a silent prayer of thanks as we started toward my car once again.
“Wait! I want to look in the bushes too.”
Shaking his head, the officer escorting me answered with a half-grin, “Go ahead, but no one has that kind of luck.”
He was wrong. Unable to contain my tears, I shouted from the bushes, “My wallet!” Inside it, everything—including my temple recommend—was intact. The police officers were dumbfounded.
“I’ve never seen anyone so lucky,” one commented.
“It’s not luck,” I answered without thinking. “It’s protection from God.” I doubted the police officers would understand the importance of my trip to the temple, so to break the skeptical silence, I jokingly added, “The guy did get one thing of value though—my lipstick!” No one laughed.
Feeling awkward, I glanced back at the bush where I had made my last amazing find. What I saw astonished me: there, upright on the little mirror I carry in my purse, was my tube of lipstick.
Before the police arrived, I had wondered why God hadn’t protected and blessed me. But standing on that lawn next to the flabbergasted police officers, I realized He had done both. Now, whenever I have the slightest doubt that Heavenly Father is aware of my struggles, I remember the night He saved my keys, my wallet, my temple recommend, and even my tube of lipstick.

President Nelson: When my grandfather A. C. Nelson was a young husband and father, just 27 years old, his father died. About three months later, his deceased father, my great-grandfather, came to visit him. The date of that visit was the night of April 6, 1891. Grandfather Nelson was so impressed by his father’s visit that he wrote the experience in his journal for his family and friends.
“I was in bed when Father entered the room,” Grandfather Nelson wrote. “He came and sat on the side of the bed. He said, ‘Well, my son, as I had a few spare minutes, I received permission to come and see you for a few minutes. I am feeling well, my son, and have had very much to do since I died.’”
When Grandfather Nelson asked him what he had been doing, his father answered that he had been busy teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in the spirit world.
“You cannot imagine, my son, how many spirits there are in the spirit world who have not yet received the gospel,” he said. “But many are receiving it, and a great work is being accomplished. Many are anxiously looking forth to their friends who are still living to administer for them in the temples.”
Grandfather Nelson told his father, “We intend to go to the temple and get sealed to you, Father, as soon as we can.”
My great-grandfather responded: “That, my son, is partly what I came to see you about. We will yet make a family and live throughout eternity.”
Then Grandfather Nelson asked, “Father, is the gospel as taught by this Church true?”
His father pointed to a picture of the First Presidency hanging on the wall of the bedroom.
“My son, just as sure as you see that picture, just as sure is the gospel true. The gospel of Jesus Christ has within it the power of saving every man and woman who will obey it, and in no other way can they ever obtain salvation in the kingdom of God. My son, always cling to the gospel. Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. Never do anything that would displease God. Oh, what a blessing is the gospel. My son, be a good boy.”
A. C. Nelson, grandfather of President Russell M. Nelson.
Illustrations by Bjorn Thorkelson
Sister Nelson: I just love all those B’s. “Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. … Be a good boy.” Six B’s brought to you by your departed great-grandfather. He certainly sounds a lot like President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) with his six B’s.1
President Nelson: He does, doesn’t he? It’s so precious to me that my grandfather would leave that record for us. We learned that his father’s children were subsequently sealed to him. So the reason for his visit was accomplished.

I was sitting on the curb of some dirt road on the edge of town—somewhere in the middle of Argentina. I was a missionary, and this was my first area. My companion was doing an interview, and rather than waste my time I figured I would sit down and study the missionary discussions.
Just as I opened the fifth discussion, I noticed a little boy running playfully across the street like he was being chased. What was he running from? I wondered. What could be so terrible? Then I spotted the dreaded assailant coming from behind. It was a girl. He must have been considering the dreadful things that might happen if she ever caught up with him. Yuck!
Just in the nick of time, the boy saw me. Surely she wouldn’t dare follow him over by an American in a suit. He was right. Pretty soon it was just me, an empty street, and a ten-year-old boy hiding behind my coat.
Suddenly we were in the middle of a gospel discussion as he snatched the fifth discussion out of my hands and read the title. “Living a Christlike life,” he said. I’m not sure what he said after that, but I could see the wheels turning inside. I imagined his question was something like, “Who are you guys, anyway?”
I tried to brush him off with some shallow explanation of what a missionary is, only to be humbled by his profound response. In an attempt to summarize everything I had said, he replied, “¿Ustedes son amigos de Jesucristo?” or “You are friends of Jesus Christ?”
“Yes,” I answered as he ran off to play, unaware of the effect he had had on me.
I couldn’t get his voice out of my head. “¿Ustedes son amigos de Jesucristo?” There was something about the way he said it in Spanish. Did he mean it as a mere statement of fact or an actual question?
Am I a friend of Jesus Christ? I thought. What is a friend of Jesus Christ? A friend to Christ? A friend like Christ?
One morning I stumbled across a passage in the Doctrine and Covenants where the Prophet Joseph Smith records the salutation to be read in the School of the Prophets:
“Art thou a brother or brethren? I salute you in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, in token or remembrance of the everlasting covenant, in which covenant I receive you to fellowship, in a determination that is fixed, immovable, and unchangeable, to be your friend and brother through the grace of God in the bonds of love, to walk in all the commandments of God blameless, in thanksgiving, forever and ever. Amen” (D&C 88:133).
I’ve never found a better definition of what a friend should be. These were brethren who had a determination to be friends, and this prayer explained what that meant. Some of the qualities that impressed me are determined, fixed, immovable, unchangeable, loving, obedient, blameless. I realized that if these were the requirements to be a friend of Jesus Christ, then I wasn’t qualified.
Christ set the perfect example of what it means to be a friend. He asks us to qualify as his friends and receive the blessings that he has made possible. In John 15:14 he said, “Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.” The preceding verse reads, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).
This is no ordinary friend.
“You are friends of Jesus Christ?” was what the young boy said. All of us need to decide in our own lives if those words are a statement of fact or a probing question.

George Albert Smith loved his mother very much, and he had an experience as a boy that taught him the importance of faith and prayer. One day while his mother was cleaning in the kitchen, she bumped the kitchen cupboard and sent it crashing down on top of her. Hearing the noise, he came running to help her. He found her unconscious on the floor underneath the cupboard and prayed to Heavenly Father with all his might that He would save her life. In return, young George Albert promised to devote his life to God’s work. His mother did recover, and he never forgot his promise to the Lord.

I would like to share an example of how living a principle helps us become converted to that principle. I was a young woman in the ’60s and the only LDS girl in my high school. It was a revolutionary period characterized by the rejection of traditional morals, drug use, and an “anything goes” mentality. Many of my peers were good people but found it easy to get caught up in the excitement of this new morality, which actually was just the old immorality. My parents and teachers at church had impressed upon me the value of treating my body with respect, keeping a clear mind, and most of all, learning to trust in the Lord’s commandments. I made the decision to avoid situations where I knew alcohol would be present and to stay clear of tobacco and drugs. It often meant I was not included at parties, and I rarely dated. Drug use was becoming more and more common among young people, and the dangers were not as well known as they are today. Many of my peers later suffered permanent damage from mind-altering drugs or got caught up in serious addictions. I was grateful to have been taught to live the Word of Wisdom in my home, and I gained a deep testimony of that principle of the gospel as I exercised faith and lived it. The good feeling that came to me from living a true gospel principle was the Spirit of the Holy Ghost confirming that the principle was true. That is when true conversion begins to take place.

This difficulty of understanding about water recalls the story of a sailing ship that had become disabled in a storm. It drifted aimlessly for many days. The crew and passengers became famished and parched from lack of food and water. Finally another ship came into view. They signaled frantically for water. The other ship replied, “Let down your buckets where you are.” This communication made no sense at all, for they supposed they were far out to sea in typical ocean water. Again the famished ones requested water. Again the signal came, “Let down your buckets where you are.” They could not know that they had drifted into the mouth of a great river and that the water beneath them was fresh and could save their lives. The water of life lay just beneath them, yet they were dying for lack of this knowledge.

Sister Braithwaite relates one experience that was “a special spiritual awakening” for her. “One year there was a young man on a motorcycle going through town during pageant time, and he stopped to ask what was going on. I told him and asked him if he knew anything about the Mormon church. He said, ‘Not a thing,’ so I invited him to stay with my family and watch the pageant. At first he said ‘No, I’m too grubby,’ but I told him he could shower and get cleaned up, and he agreed. He did watch the pageant and slept on our lawn in a sleeping bag that night. Well, we didn’t hear from him again for a year and a half. Then we got a letter from him in the mission field.” She pauses to blink back tears. “You know, I could just see the light of Christ in his eyes. That’s what this pageant is all about. And just recently, another lady and I were in Provo making some purchases for the pageant. A man in the shop heard who we were and walked up to us and said, ‘I owe the conversion of my son-in-law to the Mormon Miracle Pageant.’”

This time, I would like to humbly add a comparison inspired from an area in the field of my professional preparation. I am referring to the world of civil engineering. From the beginning of my university studies, I dreamed of the day when I would complete the requirements to be qualified to take the class that would teach me how to design buildings and other structures that could then be considered “anti-seismic.”

The day finally arrived for my first class on this subject. The first words from the professor were the following: “You are surely anxious to begin this course and learn how to design anti-seismic structures,” to which many of us eagerly nodded our heads. Then the professor said, “I am sorry to tell you that this is not possible, for I cannot teach you how to design a building that is against, that is ‘anti-’ or that is opposed to, an earthquake. This makes no sense,” he said, “because earthquakes will occur anyway, whether we like it or not.”

Then he added, “What I can teach you is how to design structures that are seismic-resistant, structures that can resist the forces coming from an earthquake, so that the structure remains standing without suffering any serious damage and can then continue offering the service for which it had been conceived.”

Although more than 40 years have passed since that first class in seismic-resistant engineering, I perfectly remember the moment when I began to acquire a deeper, more complete understanding of the vital importance that this concept would be present in the structures that I would design in my future professional life. Not only that, but even more important—that it would be permanently present in the edification of my own life and in those over whom I might exercise a positive influence.

One of my mom’s favorite memories is of when she brought cupcakes to share with my class on my birthday. Josh was with his special education teacher in another classroom down the hall and around the corner. Miss Ready asked me to go get him. I was so excited that I told Josh, “Let’s run!” With Josh holding my arm, we ran for all we were worth. When we got to the classroom, we were out of breath, and Josh said, “That was so much fun! Can we do it again?” I realized then that Josh never gets to run.
Josh’s teacher came huffing and puffing into the room, her eyes big and round from fright. She calmed down when she saw that Josh was OK and that I had been careful and hadn’t bumped him into anything as we ran.
During a field trip toward the end of our first-grade year, Miss Ready separated Josh and me and put me into another group. She told my mom that she hadn’t realized until then how isolated I had been, taking care of Josh all year and that she felt bad about it. But both Mom and I feel that it was a very rewarding year.
I have gone on to second grade now. Josh stayed back in first grade. I miss him a lot, but every couple of days or so we talk on the phone. I’m going to invite him back to church with me and pray that his grandma will let him come. I know that Heavenly Father loves Josh, and I pray that he will find someone else in his class to care for him with love and kindness. In the meantime, I’ll find someone in my second-grade class who needs a friend, because I’m trying to be like Jesus.

The year 1998 was a turning point in my life. During that year, though concerned about my studies, I decided to work part time after school to avoid my father. Our relationship had been tense for a long time, but it was now turning into hostility. The anger we both felt was ready to erupt.
Then a miracle changed our relationship. One night at work, two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints paid a visit to one of my coworkers. They shared a brief message with him, and I listened casually to what they said. Curious to hear more, I accepted their invitation to listen to the discussions.
In the first lesson, I learned I could live with my family even after death. A sense of remorse concerning my relationship with my father filled my heart. I knew it was time to repair the damage. My desire for a happy and a forever family gave me the courage to speak to my father. At first he didn’t respond, but my fervent and constant prayers and my faith in God gave me the strength to keep approaching him. I knew as long as I did my part, Heavenly Father would do His.
Day by day, God answered my prayers. The misunderstanding between my father and me dissolved, and our hearts softened. God’s love overwhelmed me, and in three months I was baptized into the Church, becoming a member of the Hsin Ying Branch, Tainan Taiwan Stake. I still show my love to my father, just as my Heavenly Father did to me.

I asked the missionaries to come back almost every day after that. I believed what they taught me. I believed that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in the Sacred Grove. But before I could be baptized, I needed to get permission from my mother. I called her and said, “Mother, I’ve found a wonderful church. I need to get your permission to join.”
She said, “No. I lost my husband; I don’t want to lose my son.” She was afraid that if I joined the Church I would leave her.
I said, “I’m not going anywhere.” And then she hung up.
The missionaries fasted and prayed for me, and I did too. I called her again and said, “Please don’t hang up on me until I’ve really explained it.” She suggested that I study more and take some more time to decide. But I felt strongly that now was the time I should be baptized.
Finally she told me, “Son, if you are going to quit right in the middle, don’t do it. But if you will stay with it all the way through, then you have my permission.” That caused me to always take my membership in the Church very seriously.

Just as she had felt, Florence found that Christopher Chukwurah shared her hunger for spiritual things. Together they investigated a number of churches, fasting and praying together regularly.

Christopher also shared her desire for education. He had a bachelor’s degree in political science and information sciences, and shortly after he and Florence married, they left Nigeria for the United States. Christopher earned a master’s degree in educational administration from Illinois State University. Florence studied psychology part-time and worked in several hospitals.

They returned to Nigeria in 1977, still uncommitted to any one religion. By 1981, they were weary of moving from church to church.

Over the years, the Chukwurahs had developed the tradition of holding a special family fast on the last day of each year. On New Year’s Eve, 31 December 1981, the purpose of their fast was to seek guidance in finding a church they could remain in throughout their lives.

Just nine days later, Florence was preparing a meal in the kitchen and Christopher was preparing a lecture for a college class when both received an impression in answer to their prayers. “I had this persistent feeling that we should visit a family friend of ours. When I told my husband, he said, ‘I have the same feeling. Can we go right now?’”

When they arrived at the home of their friend, they were surprised when he offered them a soft drink instead of the more usual beer. He explained that because he and his wife now belonged to a church called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they no longer drank alcohol or smoked.

“My husband and I looked at each other,” recalls Sister Chukwurah. “We love each other so dearly that we can speak with our eyes. After looking into each other’s eyes, we immediately asked, ‘How can we become members of this church?’”

After receiving the missionary discussions, the Chukwurahs were baptized in February 1982.

The Sabbath is clearly a day in which we worship, work, and serve, as our employment circumstances allow. Each one of us has different responsibilities to attend to. Healthcare workers, police, and other vital occupations may be required to work on Sundays. When I was working as a physician, I had to do shifts in the hospital on some Sundays as assigned by the department director. I would go early to the hospital to evaluate the patients admitted under my care dressed in trousers, a white shirt, and a tie. I kept a prayer in my heart and focused on the service that was needed for the attention of our patients. As soon as the work was done, I would go straight to church and meet with my family there for the remainder of the meetings that I was able to join.

Sophie’s grandparents live by the sea. Sophie and her younger brother, Jacob, love to help their grandmother clean the beach by carefully removing pieces of glass and other items. They make sure the beach is clean and safe for both animals and people.
Sophie says, “Jesus taught us to love each other and to help each other. Taking care of nature and helping to keep it clean and safe for humans and animals is a way of helping others. By taking care of the world around us, we take care of the home of all people. The world God created for us is a great blessing!”

Jayden’s town had a big flood. Some people’s houses got lots of water and mud inside. Mom and Dad were putting cans of food, towels, and other things in a big box to help people.
Jayden wanted to help too. “What can I do?” he asked.
“You could give a toy to a child whose toys were ruined in the flood,” Mom said.
Jayden ran to his room and looked at his toys. None of them seemed just right. Then he saw Fluffy, his favorite stuffed animal.
Jayden thought for a minute. He picked up Fluffy and gave him a big hug. Then he ran to put him in the box.
Mom looked surprised. “Are you sure you want to give Fluffy away?”
Jayden felt sad, but he nodded.
That night when Jayden said his prayers, he said, “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, for letting us help people.”
Jayden missed Fluffy, but he also felt happy inside. He was glad he had shared.

Sister Beck: Last week I was shopping with my granddaughters. I noticed a sales clerk watching our fun. Later I gave her a pass-along card. She told me, “I’m at a point in my life where I’m trying to take charge, and I don’t know how.” So we talked. My closing comment to her was, “If you want this when you’re my age”—and I pointed to my little granddaughters—“you have to be really careful what you’re choosing now. The choices I made at your age determined who I am now.”

A story is told of a woman who was upset that her son was eating too much candy. No matter how much she told him to stop, he continued to satisfy his sweet tooth. Totally frustrated, she decided to take her son to see a wise man whom he respected.
She approached him and said, “Sir, my son eats too much candy. Would you please tell him to stop eating it?”
He listened carefully then said to her son, “Go home and come back in two weeks.”
She took her son and went home, perplexed why he had not asked the boy to stop eating so much candy.
Two weeks later they returned. The wise man looked directly at the boy and said, “Boy, you should stop eating so much candy. It is not good for your health.”
The boy nodded and promised he would.
The boy’s mother asked, “Why didn’t you tell him that two weeks ago?”
The wise man smiled. “Two weeks ago I was still eating too much candy myself.”
This man lived with such integrity that he knew his advice would carry power only if he was following his own counsel.