Gospel Story Finder

9 After forty years of hard work and sacrifice by the Saints, the Salt Lake Temple was dedicated on April 6, 1893. Over the next few weeks many dedication services were held, including special sessions for children. A dedicatory inscription was put on the east side of the temple.

Some years ago a faithful convert, Brother George McLaughlin, was called to preside over a small branch of 20 members in Farmingdale, Maine. He was a humble man, driving a milk delivery truck for a living. Through his fasting and earnest prayer, the Spirit taught him what he and the members of his branch needed to do to help the Church grow in their area. Through his great faith, constant prayer, and powerful example, he taught his members how to share the gospel. It’s a marvelous story, one of the great missionary stories of this dispensation. In just one year, there were 450 convert baptisms in the branch. The next year there were an additional 200 converts. President McLaughlin indicated: “My job as branch president was to teach [the new converts] how to be Mormons. I had to teach them how to give talks and lessons in church. I had to teach them how to teach the gospel to their children. I trained the new members to become strong members.” Pretty simple.

Just five years later, the Augusta Maine Stake was organized. Much of the leadership of that new stake came from those converts in the Farmingdale Branch. Now we might ask why there was such great success in those days, and the answer may be because of the urgent need to strengthen the Church. Let me assure you that that same urgency in all units of the Church is every bit as critical today as it was then.

This temple was built by the early Saints from 1840 1846. It burned down but was rebuilt in 2002.

In the late 1970s the Mauclairs moved back to metropolitan France, first to Auch (pronounced Osh) near Toulouse. In 1978, they moved to the Versailles ward, where the Mauclair and Giraud-Carrier families became good friends, and a young Christophe met an even younger Isabelle. That childhood friendship grew into dating, courtship, engagement, and marriage. After some time in the same ward and stake, the families moved apart, but Christophe’s and Isabelle’s developing romance continued to grow as they courted by regular letters, occasional phone calls and quarterly in-person connections.

Just weeks after Christophe returned from the Canada Montreal Mission, the two, who had met as children 10 years before, became husband and wife on July 16, 1988 in Cholet, France. Three days later, at the Bern Switzerland Temple, they became a forever union. Christophe was 22 and Isabelle was 21.

I stopped attending my singles ward when my pregnancy became obvious. I still wanted to attend, but I was worried about being judged. I already felt older and out of place in my ward, and this seemed like it would just make things worse.
And I didn’t feel this way just in my ward. In most areas of my life, I felt so alone. I was afraid for myself and my child. I felt like my ultimate goal, the temple, was out of reach.
When I found out I was pregnant after a short and unhappy relationship, I assessed my options and decided that placing my son for adoption would be best for him. I found a wonderful couple looking to adopt. Although I was working through a lot of spiritual and emotional difficulties, I felt peaceful about my son’s future.
My peace and my plan both fell to pieces when I found out that my baby’s father wouldn’t agree to the adoption, even though I felt, out of love, that it would actually be best for our baby. After I found out I couldn’t provide a great home for my son through adoption, I was blessed to realize that I could provide a great home for him. Trusting in the Savior’s power and the blessings of His atoning sacrifice helped me feel at peace with that realization.
It was in the aftermath of finding out that adoption wasn’t an option that I knew I needed to turn to Heavenly Father and the Savior. Although I’d never completely edged Them out of my life, I’d become distanced from Them after my mistakes. But I knew I needed Them in my life, especially if I was going to be a single mother. For the sake of my son, I clung to the gospel and the hope that it offered me.
And I learned that “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18). When I drew closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, through sincere repentance, I discovered the strength to be a single mom. When I was willing to repent and live life the way They directed, I found blessings greater than I ever could have imagined.
Those blessings included receiving love and support from those around me, such as my therapist and adoption representative, Steve; my bishop and his wife, who always welcomed me with open arms, even when I stopped attending church for a few months; ward members who brought baby gifts; my boss, Trevor, who encouraged me in my parenting efforts; and countless others who helped me in large and small ways. Miraculously, even the couple who was going to adopt my son ended up being a huge strength and support to me.
I came to realize that the Savior’s infinite Atonement is more powerful than our greatest mistakes, and if we humble ourselves before Him, He can “make weak things become strong” (Ether 12:27). Because of Jesus Christ, we can repent of our sins, and He can help us to learn, grow, and change.
I made a mistake that led to my pregnancy. But my loving Savior saw that not as an excuse to condemn me but to warmly invite me to draw closer to Him through the gift of repentance. With His help, I am now preparing to return to the temple. As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles expressed: “Jesus Christ, the Son of God, died so that our mistakes might not condemn us and forever halt our progress. Because of Him, we can repent, and our mistakes can become stepping-stones to greater glory.”1
These “stepping-stone” moments often come when I meet women who are in situations similar to mine and I get to testify that the temple is never out of reach and the power of the Savior’s Atonement is always available. And when I testify to others, I’m able to see progress in myself. While I used to skip church out of embarrassment, I now never want to miss a week because taking the sacrament has become so sacred to me.
Both choices—placing your child for adoption or parenting your child—are brave and selfless when your focus is on the love you have for your child and placing his or her needs for a loving and stable environment above all other concerns. I believe the most important choice was the choice to “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him” (Moroni 10:32). Because when we love God and do as He asks, all things will work together for our good, no matter how impossible our circumstances may seem (see Romans 8:28; Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).

One of our sons has always been interested in radio. When he was a little fellow, his Christmas present was a very elementary radio construction set.
As he grew, and as we could afford it, and as he could earn it, he received more sophisticated equipment.
There have been many times over the years, some very recently, when I have sat with him as he talked with someone in a distant part of the world.
I could hear static and interference and catch a word or two, or sometimes several voices at once.
Yet he can understand, for he has trained himself to tune out the interference.

Some people hear the restored gospel through the missionaries, feel the love of Christ, and attend and enjoy Church meetings. However, over time, life’s difficulties continue. They find that life has not been transformed into a stream of never-ending blessings. Their faith diminishes and they drift away.

At family home evening, we made the prayer mobile (Feb. 2017). We learned about how Jesus led the example of prayer. Thanks for the idea to help us have more meaningful prayer.

This Sunday I made pancakes. When my family came down, they said thank you. We are usually a little late for church, but we weren’t because I made pancakes. That made me feel good inside.
Kyler M., age 10, Zürich, Switzerland

Another sister expressed her difficulty to forgive, but since visiting the temple I’ve seen a difference in her interactions with others. She no longer feels the need to hold on to past issues with people and can now forgive.

Recently the two wards in our city were split to make three wards. I was a little nervous about going to a new Primary. But after a few Sundays, I knew I didn’t need to feel nervous because the Holy Ghost helped me feel calm and relaxed. I have even made new friends!
Morgan A., age 9, Indiana, USA

My mother, Stella Oaks, died before any of our grandchildren were born. So Sister Oaks and I had a “Stella party” to help them learn about her. I also wrote a book about her and about my father. You can learn more about your ancestors too. This will give you strength and direction for your life.

President and Sister Oaks had a “Stella party” to help their grandchildren get to know their great-grandmother Stella Oaks. Here are some things they did.
They decorated with Great-Grandmother Stella’s favorite color—yellow!
Everyone wore a hat, like she always did.
They looked at pictures and heard stories about her.

The apple went spinning to the ground. Clint was getting pretty good with his homemade slingshot. He had made it from a strong Y-shaped stick and a thick rubber band and had been practicing with it all day. Now his aim was good enough to knock an apple right out of a tree.
He saw a car coming down the road and wondered if he could hit a moving target as small as a taillight on a car. He closed one eye, pulled the rock back to his ear, and let it go. Crack! The sound of breaking plastic and glass was followed by the tinkle of pieces of glass and plastic hitting the pavement. Clint gasped. He’d actually hit the taillight of that car!
In a panic, he dropped his slingshot and scooted up the apple tree, hiding among the leaves. The car screeched to a stop, and a man jumped out. He walked around to look at his broken light, then glared straight at Clint’s hiding place.
“I know you’re up there!” he bellowed. “I saw you. You’d better get down here before I call the police!”
Clint didn’t move. He recognized the man. It was Brother Ernest, who always complained about how noisy the kids were when he went to church. Clint did not want to talk to him.
After a few minutes, Brother Ernest got back into his car and drove away. Clint waited a long time. It was nearly dark when he finally climbed down. He picked up his slingshot, pulled off the rubber band, then flung the stick into the bushes and walked slowly down the road, feeling worse with every step. By the time he got home, he was miserable, and it showed.
“What’s wrong?” Clint’s mother asked when he came into the house. Feeling that he could carry the burden no further, he blurted out everything. His mother put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you think you should do now?” she asked softly.
“I know what I need to do,” Clint said. “I just don’t want to do it.”
She nodded. “It’s hard to make things right when you’ve done wrong. But if you do your part, the Lord will take care of the rest. And you’ll feel good again. I’ll drive you to Brother Ernest’s house, if that will make it any easier.”
Without a word, Clint went out to the car. When they arrived at Brother Ernest’s house, he saw the car with its broken taillight in the driveway. He was relieved that there were no police cars.
The house was dark, and he had a glimmer of hope that maybe Brother Ernest wasn’t home. Clint slowly climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. A dog barked. The porch light suddenly came on, and the door was flung open.
There stood Brother Ernest. “Ah-ha! You’ve come to pay your dues!”
“S-sorry about your car light, B-brother Ernest,” Clint stammered. “I’ll pay you for it.”
“You bet you will! I’ll send the bill to your parents, and if you don’t pay, I’m calling the police.” He slammed the door and turned off the light, leaving Clint standing alone in the dark.
It took Clint more than three months to repay his parents. It took all his allowance, all his paper-route money, plus anything extra he earned doing chores. But at last the bill was paid in full. And Clint discovered that his mother had been right. He did feel good again. He was glad that he had done the right thing. He was particularly glad the next time he saw Brother Ernest. …
It was Clint’s first Sunday as a deacon, and he and another deacon, Dan, were assigned to collect fast offerings. He was surprised when the second house they visited was Brother Ernest’s. It was shabbier than Clint remembered. The front step was warped, and the porch light was broken. Seeing the porch light brought back all those memories about the broken car light. He wondered briefly if someone had broken the porch light with a slingshot and hadn’t repaired it. Suddenly he felt sorry for Brother Ernest.
“This one’s yours,” Dan whispered, handing Clint the fast-offering envelope. Clint took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and rang the doorbell.
There was a sound of movement within the house. Then the front door opened slowly and Brother Ernest peered out. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly.
Clint swallowed hard. “We’re from the Church, Brother Ernest. We’re collecting fast offerings.”
“Don’t you people ever give up?” Brother Ernest grumbled. “Go away and stop bothering me.”
Clint was turning away when the front door suddenly opened wide, and Brother Ernest stepped out onto the porch. He peered closely at Clint. “Don’t I know you, boy?”
Clint stood up straighter. “Yes, sir.”
“Weren’t you that boy who—”
“Who bought you a new taillight? Yes, sir, I am.”
Brother Ernest stared at him in surprise for a few moments and then did something Clint had never seen him do before. He smiled. “You’ve changed, boy,” he said.
Clint shrugged. “When we do our part, the Lord takes care of the rest.”
Brother Ernest seemed to ponder Clint’s words a moment. He nodded. “You keep your envelope. I’ll pay my offerings next week at church. And I expect to see you there, too, young man. I don’t want to find you hiding in some apple tree.”
Clint smiled. “I don’t need to hide anymore.”

A recent convert from Canberra, Australia, says the following: “I was born into a religious family where religion was taken seriously. I had a strict Christian upbringing. However, I drifted away from the church at about twenty years of age when I left home to attend teachers college.
“From that time on I felt an emptiness of purpose in some way, and each year or so would find me searching out and studying a new spiritual creed. I studied yoga and practiced meditation, read about Hinduism, Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, and most of the Protestant religions and Judaism. Somehow none of these held out anything I was seeking. Then I stopped searching, and when the elders came calling, I had mixed feelings about letting them in. I did not want yet another fruitless search, but I thought it only reasonable to hear the message and then decide. For a few lessons I was not convinced that there was anything different in the lessons from what I had already heard elsewhere. Then slowly, through the patience of the elders, I began to get the feeling that all they were saying was really true. They urged me to pray frequently, which I did; but still I was not sure. They explained how the Holy Ghost could come into one’s heart, and one could perhaps feel a warm glow inside. This was rather hard for me to imagine, but I believed them.
“One night the elders challenged me to take baptism the very next Saturday. I was surprised and felt I wasn’t ready, but I did agree to be baptized a week later, giving myself more time for questions and prayer. Then Elder Hurd asked Elder Nelson if he would bear his testimony to me. He did it so fervently that about halfway through I felt a warm spot in my heart which seemed to be coming from Elder Nelson; and as he spoke, it increased in size and intensity like a small cloud inside of me.
“When he had finished, both elders assured me that they had felt the presence of the Holy Ghost, but I didn’t tell them of my experience until a few days later. I felt too overcome to speak of it. Before they left they asked me to read Third Nephi, chapters 11 to 26, in the Book of Mormon before going to bed that night. As soon as they went out the door, I read avidly, and as I did, the warm glow returned to me and I needed no more convincing.”

Nauvoo became almost a ghost city. It faded until it almost died. The site of the temple was plowed and planted. The years passed, and there slowly followed an awakening. Our people, descendants of those who once lived there, had stir within them the memories of their forebears, with a desire to honor those who had paid so terrible a price. Gradually the city came alive again, and there was a restoration of parts of Nauvoo.
Under the prompting of the Spirit, and motivated by the desires of my father, who had served as mission president in that area and who wished to rebuild the temple for the centennial of Nauvoo but was never able to do so, we announced in the April conference of 1999 that we would rebuild that historic edifice.
Excitement filled the air. Men and women came forth with a desire to be helpful. Large contributions of money and skills were offered. Again, no expense was spared. We were to rebuild the house of the Lord as a memorial to the Prophet Joseph and as an offering to our God. On the recent 27th of June, in the afternoon at about the same time Joseph and Hyrum were shot in Carthage 158 years earlier, we held the dedication of the magnificent new structure. It is a place of great beauty. It stands on exactly the same site where the original temple stood. Its outside dimensions are those of the original. It is a fitting and appropriate memorial to the great Prophet of this dispensation, Joseph the Seer.

I guess I’d have to say that it all started with a bad attitude. When I was about ten years old, I formed the opinion that most people around me weren’t as “good” as they seemed to think they were. This feeling of disillusionment grew as I grew.
While there were other youth in the ward, even others my age, who enjoyed church and got something out of it, my friends and I became the group that went through a Sunday School teacher every month and were proud of it.
The members of the ward really didn’t approve of our attitude toward them and toward life, and some of them just gave up on us. Some did not. We had a very patient bishop and some great leaders. Most of them, however, we considered hypocrites, and we used their perceived weaknesses as an excuse for our own.
In junior high, this same group excelled in scholarship, athletics, and popularity. We had a lot of fun and decided we didn’t need and didn’t want the Church. When “forced” to enroll in seminary, most of us managed to get ourselves kicked out before too long.
We didn’t really give in to peer pressure—we exerted it. We were among the first of our age group to start drinking. We were the first to smoke pot and experiment with other drugs. We saw the chance to make some money in it, and so involved others to increase our own profits by dealing drugs. We were living high. Immorality also became a goal in our minds.
Some of my friends resisted. They said we were stupid, that there was no way they’d get involved. But by the time we got out of high school a few years ago, only one had stayed straight. He took a lot of verbal abuse and pressure, but he did it. I have more respect for him than for any other guy my age.
We were the leading partygoers all through school. The scriptures say, “Ye shall know them by their fruits” (Matt. 7:16). I don’t know all the fruits of our behavior, and I’m thankful for that. I do know many of them, though. Many of my friends that I grew up with, even some honor students, leaders, and athletes, dropped out of school. One committed suicide. Most have spent time in court, and some in jail, for a variety of things. I knew a lot of girls who had babies or abortions while in high school. Some went into prostitution.

2. Isolate the situations that cause you to respond badly. It may be that you can eliminate some of the situations at home that “set you off.” And if you can’t eliminate them, you can at least try to work around them. Kathy usually flew into a rage when she walked through the door from school because her mother started to ask her questions. They were perfectly legitimate, friendly questions, but Kathy resented them and she responded by snapping at her mother. Afterwards she always felt bad.

Kathy and her mother talked about the problem and decided that Kathy needed a “time-out” period as soon as she got home from school. They figured out that Kathy resented her mother’s questions because she had just spent an entire day answering to teachers and friends. What Kathy needed was time to herself. Kathy and her mother decided that Kathy, an accomplished musician, should be free to come home and play the piano for a while before assuming responsibilities at home.

Shortly after Elder Hinckley arrived in England, he got sick, and “it seemed that everyone was prejudiced against us,” he recalled. “Those first few weeks, because of illness and the opposition which we felt, I was discouraged.” During this difficult time, he wrote a letter to his father, saying that he felt he was wasting his time and money.

His father sent back a short note: “Dear Gordon, I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work.”3 Elder Hinckley did just that: he stayed and worked hard.

As a young man, David also received a mission call to the British Isles. Remembering the faith of his parents, he accepted the call. He walked some of the same paths as his father and met some of the same people his father had served years before.

When Dean and Bonnie Hill were called to serve as senior missionaries in the Cochabamba Bolivia Temple, Bonnie was apprehensive. She had never studied Spanish and was uncertain about her ability to perform necessary ordinances or relate with others in an unfamiliar language. A priesthood blessing promised her that she would be able to communicate both verbally and spiritually in Spanish.
“I can’t really speak much Spanish outside the temple,” she says. “But in the house of the Lord, it seems to come easily to me.”
Even after she and her husband returned home and attended Spanish sessions in the Ogden Utah Temple, patrons remarked at her superb accent.