Gospel Story Finder

A father was preparing his taxes late one night. He had assembled all the appropriate records and worked hard to determine what he owed the IRS--never the most joyful experience in life. When all was computed, he found that he qualified for a small refund. But then he suddenly remembered a transaction. He had been paid for one fairly large job in cash. No records were made of the transaction. He realized that the IRS couldn't have received a report of this income and likely would never know about it. Reporting it would cost him over $1,000 in state and federal taxes--a sizeable amount to his young and growing family. But then he thought, "I am a man of integrity. This is a small price to pay for resting well at night knowing I have been honest." He had to take out a short-term loan from the bank but he paid the extra taxes and slept well.

In my senior year I started every game. We went 9-2-1, were nationally ranked, and went to the All-American Bowl in Birmingham, Alabama.
Before the game in Birmingham they have lots of festivities for the players. One of the activities was a Fellowship of Christian Athletes breakfast that was open to the public, and there were several hundred—probably a thousand—people there.
The night before, as I was saying my prayers, I felt that somehow I was going to speak at that breakfast. I didn’t know anything about the program, but I prayed that if I was called on, the Lord would be with me and I would be able to share something that would uplift those in attendance.
We got up early and went to the breakfast, and I was really enjoying it. When Coach Hydrick came up to me with a big smile on his face, I knew exactly what he was going to ask.
“Sam,” he said, “I was wondering if you would give a brief talk about your testimony and your relationship with the Lord.”
I said, “I’d love to.” Then I looked at my buddies at the table and realized that I’d never spoken to an audience of non-Mormons before. I had this extreme paranoia come over me, and I wondered what I was going to say.
As they introduced me and I walked up there before all those people, I felt weak all over. I don’t remember what exactly I said. I know I told them about the Savior and how he’d taken upon himself the sins of all mankind. I was doing pretty well emotionally until I started talking about my teammates. Then I started to cry because I loved them. I closed in the sacred name of the Savior.
Suddenly, I heard people start saying, “Amen,” “Hallelujah,” “Praise the Lord!” I was a little shocked at first. But then I saw people were crying, and I was crying, and it was a wonderful experience. After the breakfast, many people told me what I had said impressed them. I was just grateful that the Lord was able to touch their hearts.

May I share with you an experience that took place on the island of Okinawa in the Servicemen’s District? As the local Okinawan members were excitedly preparing to go to Tokyo, which is nearly 900 miles away, for the area general conference, the young people of the Servicemen’s Branch found out that an active young Okinawan family was not planning to go with the rest of the branch. When approached and asked why he was not going to conference, this faithful brother hesitantly replied that he just could not afford to take his wife and children at this time; it was out of the question.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch immediately met and planned a cookie sale project to raise funds necessary to send this family to conference. The young people baked cookies in their parents’ homes; later when they were busily engaged in selling these cookies, they were pleasantly surprised when they approached the servicemen to purchase their cookies, explaining the purpose of their project. Without hesitation the servicemen all bought cookies and donated money in excess of the purchase price, so that the young people could reach their goal. The happy result was that this young Okinawan family was able to go to Tokyo to conference with the rest of their branch, because of the help they received.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch all learned a great lesson in giving and loving; they learned through experience that persons who really care for others and who give some of their time, talents, and belongings for the good of others are the ones who really receive the fullest blessings of life.

I have always been interested in animals and birds, and when I was a little boy and the other children wanted to play cowboy, I wanted to go on safari to Africa and would pretend I was hunting the wild animals.
When I learned to read, I found books about birds and animals and came to know much about them. By the time I was in my teens I could identify most of the African animals. I could tell a klipspringer from an impala, or a gemsbok from a wildebeest.
I always wanted to go to Africa and see the animals, and finally that opportunity came. Sister Packer and I were assigned to tour the South Africa Mission with President and Sister Howard Badger. We had a very strenuous schedule and had dedicated eight chapels in seven days, scattered across that broad continent.
President Badger was vague about the schedule for September 10th. (That happens to be my birthday.) We were in Rhodesia, planning, I thought, to return to Johannesburg, South Africa. But he had other plans, and we landed at Victoria Falls.
“There is a game reserve some distance from here,” he explained, “and I have rented a car, and tomorrow, your birthday, we are going to spend seeing the African animals.”
Now I might explain that the game reserves in Africa are unusual. The people are put in cages, and the animals are left to run free. That is, there are compounds where the park visitors check in at night and are locked behind high fences until after daylight. They are allowed to drive about, but no one is allowed out of his car.
We arrived in the park in the late afternoon. By some mistake, there were not enough cabins for all the visitors, and they were all taken when we arrived. The head ranger indicated that they had a cabin in an isolated area about eight miles from the compound and we could spend the night there.
Because of a delay in getting our evening meal, it was long after dark when we left the compound. We found the turnoff and had gone up the narrow road just a short distance when the engine stalled. We found a flashlight and I stepped out to check under the hood, thinking that there must be a loose connection or something. As the light flashed on the dusty road, the first thing I saw was lion tracks!
Back in the car, we determined to content ourselves with spending the night there! Fortunately, however, an hour or two later we were rescued by the driver of a gas truck who had left the compound late because of a problem. We awakened the head ranger and in due time we were settled in our cabin. In the morning they brought us back to the compound.
We had no automobile, and without telephones there was no way to get a replacement until late in the day. We faced the disappointment of sitting around the compound all day. Our one day in the park was ruined and, for me, the dream of a lifetime was gone.
I talked with a young ranger, and he was surprised that I knew many of the African birds. Then he volunteered to rescue us.
“We are building a new lookout over a water hole about twenty miles from the compound,” he said. “It is not quite finished, but it is safe. I will take you out there with a lunch, and when your car comes late this afternoon we will bring it out to you. You may see as many animals, or even more, than if you were driving around.”
On the way to the lookout he volunteered to show us some lions. He turned off through the brush and before long located a group of seventeen lions all sprawled out asleep and drove right up among them.
We stopped at a water hole to watch the animals come to drink. It was very dry that season and there was not much water, really just muddy spots. When the elephants stepped into the soft mud, the water would seep into the depression and the animals would drink from the elephant tracks.
The antelope, particularly, were very nervous. They would approach the mud hole, only to turn and run away in great fright. I could see there were no lions about and asked the guide why they didn’t drink. His answer, and this is the lesson, was “Crocodiles.”
I knew he must be joking and asked him seriously, “What is the problem?” The answer again: “Crocodiles.”
“Nonsense,” I said. “There are no crocodiles out there. Anyone can see that.”
I thought he was having some fun at the expense of his foreign game expert, and finally I asked him to tell us the truth. Now I remind you that I was not uninformed. I had read many books. Besides, anyone would know that you can’t hide a crocodile in an elephant track.
He could tell I did not believe him and determined, I suppose, to teach me a lesson. We drove to another location where the car was on an embankment above the muddy hole where we could look down. “There,” he said. “See for yourself.”
I couldn’t see anything except the mud, a little water, and the nervous animals in the distance. Then all at once I saw it!—a large crocodile, settled in the mud, waiting for some unsuspecting animal to get thirsty enough to come for a drink.
Suddenly I became a believer! When he could see I was willing to listen, he continued with the lesson. “There are crocodiles all over the park,” he said, “not just in the rivers. We don’t have any water without a crocodile somewhere near it, and you’d better count on it.”
The guide was kinder to me than I deserved. My “know-it-all” challenge to his first statement, “crocodiles,” might have brought an invitation, “Well, go out and see for yourself!”
I could see for myself that there were no crocodiles. I was so sure of myself I think I might have walked out just to see what was there. Such an arrogant approach could have been fatal. But he was patient enough to teach me.

Henry walked up to the man named Amos. He had a snarly red beard, and he wasn’t smiling.
“Excuse me?” Henry said in a small voice. He felt nervous but remembered that the freight master had said Amos was a good man.
“What do you want?” Amos growled.
“I … I heard you could take me to Utah,” Henry stammered.
“I don’t take passengers,” Amos said. “I run a business.”
“I’ll work my way,” Henry said.
Amos laughed. “What work could a boy like you do?”
“I can do lots of things!” Henry said.
Amos scratched his beard. “Do you know anything about horses?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Henry answered. “My papa worked on a big estate in England, and I helped him with the horses all the time.”
“Is that so?” Amos smiled. He jerked his thumb at two horses tied to the back of the wagon. “Let’s see you hitch up Old Buck and Rufus.”
Henry walked over to the horses, patted their noses, and talked softly to them. Without any difficulty, he led them to the wagon and fastened the harnesses.
“Well, I’ll be hornswaggled! Old Buck’s usually cranky with strangers. You might be handy to have along after all,” Amos said. “Climb in the wagon and let’s go.”
Amos was fun to travel with. He told interesting stories and listened to Henry talk about life in England.
But the trip was hard work too! Henry took care of the horses, gathered firewood, and carried water. He helped Amos hunt for dinner. When they couldn’t catch anything, they ate beef jerky and dried apples. At night they slept under the wagon.
After many weeks Henry spotted the tops of mountains against the bright blue sky. “The Utah Territory is just on the other side,” Amos said.
When Henry got his first look at the land that would be his new home, he was surprised. It was nothing like the big cities or bright green fields he had left behind in England.
“Are you sure this is Utah?” Henry asked. “Maybe we took a wrong turn.”
Amos just chuckled.
Henry said goodbye to Amos in a town called Castle Gate and bought one last train ticket. Before he knew it, the train was hissing to a stop at the Salt Lake City depot. Henry jumped onto the wooden platform with a smile. He had made it!
Or had he? Henry quickly realized that he still didn’t know how to find his cousins. He started asking people if they knew the Lowe family. His stomach growled, and he shivered as the sun faded away.
Finally, he saw a man riding directly toward him.
“Henry? My name is George Lowe,” the man said, sticking out his hand. “My family will be so happy to meet you! Climb in the wagon. You must be exhausted.”
That night Henry had a warm bed and good food. He was soon able to go to church. Utah started to feel like home.
It was a whole year before Henry’s father came to Utah. Then his mother and two brothers followed. Finally his older sister arrived.
Each of them had a different journey, and Henry was grateful that Heavenly Father had protected them all. They were together again at last!

Lee went into the army the summer after he graduated. He soon found out what homesickness is all about. He wrote home every day, and Mom cried when she read his letters. She asked him to find out if there was an LDS ward he could attend. We prayed for him and encouraged him to pray too. My grandmother had given Lee a Bible as a graduation present, and for some reason he had packed it when he left. It turned out that religious books were the only reading material allowed on base. When Lee told my mother that, she sent him a copy of the Book of Mormon. Shortly after that, we started getting letters from Lee saying how much he enjoyed the scriptures and that he was reading them aloud to other soldiers. Of course my mother cried some more. Mom asked Lee if he wanted to take the missionary discussions. But Lee wrote and told us he had already asked the bishop to set up the discussions. He was baptized when he came home on leave. Mom cried then too.

One of my nieces recently shared with me four notebooks my mother had filled with notes as she prepared to teach her class in Relief Society. I would imagine these notebooks—and there are others I have not yet examined—represent hundreds of hours of preparation by my mother.
Mother was a great teacher who was diligent and thorough in her preparation. I have distinct memories of the days preceding her lessons. The dining room table would be covered with reference materials and the notes she was preparing for her lesson. There was so much material prepared that I’m sure only a small portion of it was ever used during the class, but I’m just as sure that none of her preparation was ever wasted. How can I be sure about this? As I flipped through the pages of her notebooks, it was as if I were hearing my mother teach me one more time. Again, there was too much in her notebooks on any single topic to ever share in a single class session, but what she didn’t use in her class she used to teach her children.
I believe it is even safe to say that while my mother was an enormously effective teacher among the sisters at Relief Society, her best teaching occurred with her children in the home. Of course, this was largely due to the greater amount of time she had to teach her children compared to teaching the Relief Society sisters, but I also like to think she prepared so thoroughly, first, to be an example to her children of diligent Church service and, second, because she recognized that what she learned from preparing her lessons could be used repeatedly for a higher purpose—teaching her sons and her daughters.

When I was 12 years old, my father took me hunting in the mountains. We woke up at 3:00 in the morning, saddled our horses, and set out up the forested mountainside in total darkness. As much as I loved hunting with my dad, at that moment I felt a little nervous. I had never been in these mountains before, and I couldn’t see the trail—or much of anything else, for that matter! The only thing I could see was the small flashlight my dad was carrying as it cast a faint light on the pine trees ahead of us. What if my horse slipped and fell—could he even see where he was going? But this thought comforted me: “Dad knows where he’s going. If I follow him, everything will be OK.”
And everything was OK. Eventually the sun came out, and we had a wonderful day together. As we started toward home, my dad pointed to a majestic, sloping peak that stood out among the others. “That’s Windy Ridge,” he said. “That’s where the good hunting is.” Instantly, I knew that I wanted to come back and climb to Windy Ridge someday.
In the years that followed, I would often hear my father talk about Windy Ridge, but we never went back—until one day, 20 years later, I called my dad and said, “Let’s go to Windy.” Once again we saddled our horses and started up the mountainside. I was now an experienced rider in my 30s, yet I was surprised to feel the same nervousness I had felt as a 12-year-old boy. But my dad knew the way, and I followed him.
Finally we made it to the top of Windy. The view was exhilarating, and the overwhelming feeling I had was that I wanted to come back—not for me this time but for my wife and my children. I wanted them to experience what I had experienced.
Over the years, I’ve had many opportunities to lead my sons and other young men to mountaintops, just as my father led me. These experiences have prompted me to ponder what it means to lead—and what it means to follow.

I recall one of my favorite family home evening activities. Dad would invite one of his children to take “The Test.” He would give the child a series of instructions like, “First, go into the kitchen and open and close the fridge. Then run into my bedroom and grab a pair of socks from my dresser. Then come back to me, jump up and down three times, and say, ‘Dad, I did it!’”

I loved it when it was my turn. I wanted to get every step just right, and I cherished the moment when I could say, “Dad, I did it!” This activity helped build my confidence and made it easier for a restless boy to pay attention when Mom or Dad taught a gospel principle.

The best high school cross-country runners in the western U.S. gathered in Fresno, California, recently to see who was the fastest of them all. And when the dust had settled, it was discovered that the first-, second-, and third-place winners in the freshman division were all LDS.
Jeremy Call, who came in first, had one of the fastest times ever recorded for a freshman. He’s a member of the Bountiful 27th Ward, Bountiful Utah North Stake, and loves going to seminary. He’s also into Scouting, school, and basketball.
Christopher Merkley was second. He’s a member of the American Fork First Ward, American Fork Utah Stake. He has high grades (especially in science), loves studying Church history in seminary, and is completing his Eagle rank in Scouting.
Marc Lawson, of the Fresno Fifth Ward, Fresno California North Stake, was third. All five of his brothers and sisters, plus his parents, run competitively. Marc is active in seminary and is in his teachers quorum presidency.
No one realized the three top finishers were LDS until after the race. But they all became fast friends as soon as they found out.

You are looking at a FIRST. I’ve never been impressed to write a letter to the editor until today. I’ve just read the little article “Wonderful Pest” by Glenn Latham in the December 1983 New Era. It made me think of Marian Jackson. Marian was the Blazer B leader in the Edgemont 8th Ward here in Provo when she decided that our son had lounged long enough at that “almost an Eagle” stage. He was about 15 when she took him under her wing. Under the guise of “helping her” with the Blazer B’s, our son began his final assault on his Eagle. And thanks to Marian, he made it!
Marian has six sons of her own, and if I’m not mistaken all are Eagles. I can’t begin to count the sons of other people who can credit her with their similar achievements. Marian was never thought of as a “wonderful pest,” but as I tried to thank her for the inspiration and motivation and hours of service to our son, she laughingly replied, “Oh, behind every Eagle there’s an old buzzard.”
It’s a “dirty job,” but aren’t we glad someone—Jeff Sessions, Marian Jackson, and many, many others—are willing to do it! God bless those wonderful pests and old buzzards everywhere! P.S. Even parents are sometimes successful as old buzzards—and it’s not really such a dirty job. It’s really lots of fun, as we learned with our second Eagle.
Ann JamisonProvo, Utah

Some time ago several outstanding teachers were honored at the general Sunday School conference. It was my privilege to pay a tribute to a Sunday School teacher of my boyhood days—Lucy Gertsch Thomson.
Lucy was lovely and ever so sweet. She was deserving of a worthy companion. Yet such success evaded her. The years flew by, and Lucy reached the worrisome 20s, the desperate 30s, even the frightful 40s—and then she met Dick. It was a case of love at first sight.
Just one problem—Dick was not a member of the Church. Did Lucy succumb to the age-old fallacy of marrying out of desperation, with the fleeting hope that one day he would become a member? Not Lucy. She was wiser than this. She simply told Dick: “Dick, I think you’re wonderful, but we would never be happy dating together.”
“Why not?” he countered.
“Because you’re not a Mormon.”
“How do I become a Mormon? I want to date you.” He studied the gospel.
She answered his questions. He was baptized.
Then he said, “Lucy, now that I’m a member, we can be married at last.”
Lucy replied, “Oh, Dick, I love you so much. Now that you are a member of the Church, you wouldn’t be content with anything but a temple marriage.”
“How long will that take, Lucy?”
“About a year, if we meet the other requirements.” One year later Lucy and Dick entered the House of the Lord. Lucy lived the truth of the verse:
Dare to be a Mormon;
Dare to stand alone;
Dare to have a purpose firm;
Dare to make it known.
Plan your future with purpose.

You may be rejected. You may even meet anger. Now, you might well ask, “Wait a minute. You told me that I could bring peace, and instead I get war coming back at me. How can that be?”

First, don’t feel picked on, because we’ve all had that happen. I have a memory of watching my little boys kick each other as they lay before me on the floor during our family night as I taught a lesson on peace in the family. In fact, that topic would bring it on. They heard me, they understood me, and yet they had been kicking for a long time before I started preaching. Now, years later, they reach across the world to help each other. But the change takes time. So be patient and persistent.

Scott Miller, 14, of the San Leandro First Ward, San Leandro California Stake, was in the unique position to help a friend who was seriously hurt.
Scott watched as his best friend, Kevin Freund, fell into a stream from a rope swing and was knocked unconscious. Scott lifted his friend out of the stream, and after Kevin regained consciousness, Scott kept him talking to keep him from lapsing into unconsciousness again. Scott then carried him home where his mother called for medical help.

Many years ago two General Authorities called a very young man to be a new stake president. In his response, the new stake president said he would give total devotion to his calling and would not ask any of the members of his stake to be more devoted than he. Then he bore his testimony that he believed the gospel with all his heart and proposed to live it.

Later at lunch one of the General Authorities asked this new stake president whether he knew absolutely that this gospel is true. He answered that he did not. The senior Apostle said to his fellow Apostle, “He knows it just as well as you do. The only thing that he does not know is that he does know it. It will be but a short time until he does know it. … You do not need to worry.”

A short time later, the new stake president testified that following a spiritual experience, “I shed tears of gratitude to the Lord for the abiding, perfect, and absolute testimony that came into my life of the divinity of this work.”

In April 1973, my parents and I traveled from our native Argentina to be sealed in the temple. Since there were no temples in all of Latin America at the time, we flew more than 6,000 miles (9,700 km) each way to be sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Although I was just two years of age at the time and do not recall the entirety of that special experience, three very distinct images from that trip were fixed in my mind and have remained ever since.

First, I recall being placed close to the airplane’s window and seeing the white clouds below.

Those beautiful, bright clouds endure in my mind as if they had been gigantic cotton balls.

Another image that has remained in my mind is that of a few funny-looking characters at an amusement park in the Los Angeles area. Those characters are hard to forget.

But of much greater importance is this brilliant and unforgettable image:
I clearly remember being in a sacred room of the Salt Lake Temple where sealings of couples and of families are performed for time and for all eternity. I remember the beautiful altar of the temple and recall the bright sunlight shining through the room’s exterior window. I felt then, and have continued to feel since, the warmth, safety, and solace of the gospel light of truth and love.

Ryan’s dad is a Cub Scout leader, and he also helps out with the Boy Scouts in the ward. Ryan accompanies him on some of the campouts and activities that he might otherwise have to wait a few years to participate in. After Hurricane Hugo struck near Charleston, South Carolina, the Scouts from the Hugheses’ ward decided to see if there was anything they could do to help. Brother and Sister Hughes, Joshua, and Ryan went with the Scouts, and Ryan learned a great deal about people serving one another.

The author lives in Utah, USA.
Photographs by Getty Images
I had just finished breakfast when my stake president called to tell me that my mission application had been denied. My heart sank as he told me why—I needed to lose a certain amount of weight before I would be able to serve. As he explained to me what I would need to do in order to resubmit my papers, the only thing I wanted to do was climb into my bed and hide.
After the shock wore off, I called my dad at work and explained what had happened. He paused and then asked, “Well, what are you going to do?” Would I give up? Let go of my dream to serve a mission? No.
“I’m going to go for it,” I replied. “I’m going to try to lose the weight.”
Within a week, I had a solid plan of action. I learned as much as I could about nutrition and exercise and, after setting some goals, I was ready to get started. I felt so much love and support from my Heavenly Father. I knew that I was doing the right thing and that He would help me every step of the way.
As I worked hard every day, I began to see progress! It was exciting to notice the physical effects of diet and exercise, but what surprised me most was the spiritual health I was gaining. I became more confident and self-aware as I developed into the person Heavenly Father wanted me to be.
I realized that as my spiritual health increased, it actually became easier for me to improve my physical health. The sacrament was so important in helping me stay focused on my goals. It became a sacred time of reflection for me as I thought about my Savior and how much He had helped me on this journey. I knew that He would stay by my side no matter what.
Prayer also made a big difference. There were so many times when I was running on the treadmill and would just start crying because I was so tired and my lungs hurt and I just wanted to go on a mission. I would say a prayer because I knew that someone in the mission field needed me, and I knew that I needed help to get there. After every workout, I thanked Heavenly Father for giving me the strength to go on.
The gospel teaches us that our bodies and our spirits are one, but until this experience, I had never thought about how directly the health of my body could affect the health of my spirit. As I thought about my body as a temple, this connection between body and spirit began to make more sense. I knew that one reason we keep the temple so clean and beautiful is because it helps the Spirit to be there. So it makes sense that as I began to eat healthy and exercise more, I began to feel the Spirit even more.
I also noticed that I felt more energized and more willing to talk to and serve the people around me. I could feel the Spirit guide me as I put my trust in the Lord, and I discovered that I could turn to Him for help with any trial or hardship I might face.
Photograph courtesy of Jillian Pierson
After months of hard work, I finally received my mission call! I was so excited I could hardly wait. And when I entered the Missionary Training Center, I felt prepared both physically and spiritually.
I feel so blessed to have had the opportunity to learn how to take care of both my body and my spirit. Working toward a meaningful goal gave me the motivation I needed to become a better version of myself. I learned that if I rely on the Lord as I try to accomplish my goals, He will help me every step of the way.

I was with Elder Mark E. Petersen in the Holy Land in October 1983, during his last mortal journey. Elder Petersen was not well. Evidences of his consuming malignancy were so painfully real to him, yet he derived strength from the Savior he served. Following a night of intense suffering, aggravated by pangs of his progressive inability to eat or to drink, Elder Petersen addressed throngs assembled at the Mount of Beatitudes to hear his discourse on the “Sermon on the Mount.” After he recited “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness,” he departed from the biblical text and pleaded this question: “Do you know what it is to be really hungry? Do you know what it is to really be thirsty? Do you desire righteousness as you would desire food or drink under extreme conditions? [The Savior] expects us to literally hunger and thirst after righteousness and seek it with all our hearts!”

I was one of the few present on that occasion who knew how hungry and thirsty Elder Petersen really was. His encroaching cancer had deprived him of relief from physical hunger and thirst. So he understood that doctrine. He withstood the trial. He thanked the Lord who lent him power to preach his last major sermon at the sacred site where his Lord Jesus had preached.

Counsel was given by another prophet who said, “Feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted” (2 Nephi 9:51). Nephi added: “If ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end. . . : Ye shall have eternal life” (2 Nephi 31:20). Even though Elder Petersen was deprived of full physical feeding, he continued to feast upon the words of his Savior. He endured to the end, and I know he earned that promised reward.

Before homes could be built, the Saints had to cut down the thickets and dig ditches to drain the swamps. Unfortunately they were unaware of the dangerous disease the pesky mosquitoes were carrying. Many workers became ill with malaria, or ague, as it was called then. Before long, hundreds of people in Nauvoo and across the Mississippi River in Montrose, Iowa, were very ill with severe chills and fever, and many were dying.
For a time Joseph and Emma nursed and cared for the sick, but then Joseph also became ill. For several days he lay overcome with the sickness. But on July 22, 1839, Joseph was prompted to arise and extend help to others. Filled with the Spirit of the Lord, he obediently arose and began to administer to the sick staying in his house and to the people in the tent city surrounding his home. Then he moved down to the river where many more lay too sick to move. Joseph went to the door of Brother Henry G. Sherwood’s tent and commanded him, in the name of Jesus Christ, to rise and come out. Brother Sherwood obeyed and was healed.
Elder Heber C. Kimball and others then accompanied the Prophet across the river to Montrose, where they visited the homes of the sick and, using the power of the priesthood, healed them. When Joseph arrived at the home of Elijah Fordham, the man was unconscious and near death. Joseph took Brother Fordham’s hand and said, “Brother Fordham, do you not know me?” There was no response at first, then the leaders could see the Spirit of God resting upon Elijah.
Joseph repeated his question, and Elijah whispered, “Yes!”
Joseph said, “Have you not faith to be healed?”
Elijah answered, “I am afraid it is too late. …”
Joseph asked next, “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ?”
“I do, Brother Joseph,” Elijah said.
Then the Prophet Joseph said in a loud voice, “Elijah, I command you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to arise and be made whole!”
Elijah Fordham jumped from his bed and was healed!
Wilford Woodruff said, “The words of the Prophet were not like the words of man, but like the voice of God. It seemed to me that the house shook from its foundation.”
After the people recovered, they continued to build the beautiful city on a bend in the Mississippi River and to settle many other outlying cities. Once again the hard work and abilities of the Saints began to pay off, and the towns began to flourish. Soon Nauvoo had many shops and factories, including sawmills, brickyards, printing offices, flour mills, etc. Nauvoo craftsmen also produced matches, leather goods, rope and cord, gloves, bonnets, pottery, jewelry, and watches. Professional associations and schools, including a university, were established. The people also put on plays and held dances and parties.