Gospel Story Finder

Phan Phon and his wife make sure they teach the gospel to their grandchildren. The gospel of Jesus Christ helped their family move forward after the tragedy of losing their home in a fire.
When Phan’s home caught on fire, he could only save his three grandchildren. Everything else burned to the ground. Phan was angry at the neighbor who caused the fire. When his anger spread to his family and neighbors, Phan knew he needed to forgive.
Leslie Nilsson, photographer
The first time I heard the explosion, I asked my wife, “What is that sound?”
She said, “Maybe the neighbor is burning something.”
Then I heard a second explosion. Someone next door told me, “There’s a house burning behind your house!”
We went to get some water, but we couldn’t put the fire out. The fire spread to my house. I ran in the house to get my three grandchildren. Smoke was coming through the windows, but I didn’t think about anything besides my grandchildren. They are the most important thing to me. I left everything else inside.
We got out and all we could do was watch the house burn. Firefighters did not arrive in time because the road to our house was too small. My house was old, and it burned quickly. I stood with my wife and grandchildren and watched it burn.
After the house burned down, I felt hopeless. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what to do to find a new place to live. The day after the fire, we knelt to pray and asked the Lord to show us the way and bless us to be able to find a new home. I was weeping while praying to the Lord, but I trusted that He would help me.
At first, I was mad at the neighbor who caused the fire. I wanted him to pay for what had happened. My family and the neighbors affected by the fire were also mad and wanted to send a letter to the government to make the person who caused the fire legally responsible for what happened. They asked me to sign the letter, but I didn’t want to.
I realized that my neighbor was poor like me. He didn’t intend to start the fire. If I made him pay, he would be in trouble, and I would still feel hatred. I remembered the word of the Lord that we should love our neighbor. I felt that I should forgive.
When I decided to forgive, I felt peace.
I told everyone affected by the fire that I wanted to forgive. Except for one family, everyone decided to do the same thing. They wouldn’t make him accountable for what happened.
My neighbor was happy I forgave him. My family is more happy too. When I see this, I am also happy.
Members and neighbors contributed what they could to help my family. I received a lot of rice and shared it with others. They asked me why I give when I’m in a bad situation. I tell them when I serve others, I serve the Lord. I want to give to Him because He made many miracles happen in my life. We have a beautiful home, better than the one that burned down.
Phan’s anger toward the neighbor who caused the fire was replaced with peace when he remembered the word of the Lord. Phan is grateful for the guidance he receives from the scriptures.
As his home burned down, Phan could only think about his grandchildren. Phan loves his family. “They are the most important thing to me,” he says.

Take it to heart!
That sentence has a brand-new meaning for the Young Women and the Young Men of the Delta Utah Stake. After a Saturday of learning that physical fitness is fantastic, they can quite literally ‘take it to heart’ by improving their individual levels of fitness, especially their cardiovascular systems (the heart and lungs).
The approximately 80 youths were only part of those who attended the special conference. All members of the stake were invited to participate in workshops conducted by Dr. Larry Hall, an exercise physiologist at BYU and member of the Governor’s Council on Physical Fitness; Dr. Phyllis Jacobson, chairman of Brigham Young University’s women’s physical education department; and other BYU physical education students and instructors. Among them they coached over 600 individuals who had been divided into age groups in different buildings.
Why such an extensive physical fitness program? The reason is simple according to stake president Merlin Deloy Christensen and high councilor Dennis Lamb, a former All-American baseball player for BYU and chairman of the stake’s physical fitness campaign. President Christensen feels that youth should be counseled to go on missions, marry in the temple, attend to their other Church work, and become physically fit so they can do it all in good health. He wants the youth to be active adults and knows continuing programs of physical fitness are the only way to achieve this goal.
Dennis Lamb added that the Saturday activities were only one phase of an on going attempt to teach and motivate all stake members. Practicing physical fitness is especially essential for Mutual-age people, however, because “they are a choice generation with special missions. They must be in good physical and spiritual shape to build the kingdom of God the way they are supposed to.”
Both men stressed that youth leaders are going to be very much involved in future stake events, including other super Saturdays just for them. “We have great youth in our stake,” President Christensen emphasized. “We have confidence in them.”
So did Dr. Larry Hall, who ran them through a battery of exercises in a ward cultural hall. Dr. Hall explained that sticking to an exercise program is important. “It takes the body four to six weeks of exercise before improvement is shown. It’s also necessary to exercise while you’re trying to lose weight. If you don’t, you’re losing 75 percent weight and 25 percent muscle tone.”
While arms pumped up and down as everyone did pushups, Dr. Hall continued to explain. “From puberty on, people put on weight. The habits they develop at a young age follow them throughout life. If regular exercise continues, the body doesn’t need to deteriorate as people get older. In fact, one can grow healthier as one grows older.”
Sit-ups began, and several of the group were a little weary. “If you think you’re tired,” quipped Dr. Hall, “remember your parents!” He added: “People function better when they’re physically fit. Grades can even improve because there is a high correlation between mind and body.”
After trying a number of good flexibility and strengthening exercises, the class experimented with aerobic dance, locomotor exercise steps set to music. Jumping, hopping, skipping, or running around the hall, everyone from Beehives to priests had a chance to make up her or his own routine.
Most planned to begin an individualized physical fitness program after their day of exercise. Leeann Sorensen, a second-year Beehive, said she wanted to begin because “it will make me feel better and stay thin.” Thayne Atkinson, a member of Delta High’s junior varsity basketball team, commented, “Exercise is good for you.” Shellie Morris would like to “get in shape to run track,” while Kendall Topham, a Scout, just “wants to be stronger.”
The young men and young women in west central Utah are on their way to better physical conditioning. Some who live in the community of Oak City, outside Delta, even get off the school bus several stops too soon and jog home. Bicycling, tennis, and walking to school are bound to become more popular, too, because, after all, the youth of the Delta Utah Stake have “taken it to heart” in more ways than one!

On a very cold but sunny day last October, youth and leaders from the Kettering Ward, Northampton England Stake gave 30 hours of service in their community at Headway, a local charity that works to improve life for patients after brain injury. Armed with paintbrushes and paint, ward members went to work cleaning and painting the inside and outside of the Headway day centre.
“The activity was really fun because although it was cold I could really feel the spirit of the youth working together,” said Sarah Dean, a Laurel. “We had cold hands, but we also had warm hearts.”
Michael Winebrunner, a priest, agreed that it was cold, but says, “We were working really hard, so I hardly noticed. I enjoyed being with my friends and knowing that I was making a difference to the lives of the people in the day centre.”

A few years later when my friends and I were in high school, we learned that Brother Reynolds needed his apricot trees trimmed. We gladly trimmed the trees, which took several hours of climbing on ladders and cutting away. It was hard work, but we knew it would matter to Brother Reynolds.

Twelve years ago, in company with the mission president from Hong Kong, it was my opportunity to initiate the work in the Philippines. On April 28, 1961, we held a meeting that will never be forgotten by those of us who were present. We had no hall then in which to meet. We made a request of the United States Embassy for permission to meet on the beautiful porch of the marble memorial in the American military cemetery at Fort McKinley on the outskirts of Manila. We convened at 6:30 in the morning. In that hallowed and sacred place, where are remembered the tragedies of war, we commenced the work of teaching the gospel of peace.
We called upon the only native Filipino member we had been able to locate. He recounted a story which I have never forgotten.
When he was a boy he found in a garbage can an old tattered copy of the Reader’s Digest. It contained a condensation of a book giving the story of the Mormon people. It spoke of Joseph Smith and described him as a prophet. The word prophet did something to that boy. Could there actually be a prophet upon the earth? he wondered. The magazine was lost, but concern over the presence of a living prophet never left him during the long, dark years of war and oppression when the Philippines were occupied. Finally the forces of liberation came, and with them the reopening of Clark Air Base. David Lagman found employment there. His supervisor, he learned, was a Mormon, an Air Force officer. He wanted to ask him if he believed in a prophet, but was afraid to do so. Finally, after much inner turmoil, he mustered the courage to inquire.
“Are you a Mormon, sir?” the young man asked. “Yes, I am,” was the forthright reply. “Do you believe in a prophet, do you have a prophet in your church?” came the anxious question.
“We do have a prophet, a living prophet, who presides in this church and who teaches the will of the Lord.”
David asked the officer to tell him more, and out of that teaching came his baptism. He was the first native elder ordained in the Philippines and today serves as president of the Northern Luzon District of the Church, now knowing for himself that there is indeed a living prophet on the earth.

In 1988 life was pretty normal for Jared Anderson of Pocatello, Idaho. Much like other ten-year-old boys, he had a paper route and assigned chores around the house. He loved to play basketball and baseball and ride bicycles with his friends. But during that year his life changed quite dramatically when he suddenly became responsible for assisting with his mother’s care.
Thirteen-year-old Jared still remembers the pain he felt when he heard that his mother had collapsed with a grand mal seizure one April Sunday in 1988. Jared was visiting that day at his grandmother’s home when a phone call came from the hospital. Tests and surgery later that week confirmed that Marcia Anderson had two types of brain cancer. Doctors gave her three months to live. “I was really scared,” Jared recalls. “It was so frightening to hear that my mother was dying. She has been my best friend. She’s always been there when I’ve needed her.” Now it’s Jared who is there when his mom needs him. He is the youngest of four children in Neil and Marcia Anderson’s family and has the most time at home to be with his mom. Jared’s oldest sister, Trina, is married; his brother, Shane, is on a mission in Roanoke, Virginia; and his sister Kim is a senior in high school.
After Sister Anderson’s surgery, she had to relearn everything—walking, speaking, reading, writing, and dressing herself. She has been involved in extensive physical therapy—all of which Jared has learned to help her with. She still suffers from seizures. So nurses taught Jared how to reduce the danger of her seizures by catching her when she would fall and holding her head so it wouldn’t be injured.
“Jared has a kind of sixth sense,” his mother recalls, “and he always seems to get there to help me at the very moment I need him.” But Jared explains that any boy would do that for a mom he loved.
Jared has cheered his mother on as she has outlived the doctors’ predictions. He has helped her progress from bed to wheelchair to walking again. Through it all, Jared has turned to his Heavenly Father for help. “Even when she’s having seizures, I always stop and pray for help, but I remember also to ask Heavenly Father that his will be done.” He adds, “It has taught me a lot about patience.”

A sister in the United States was gone from the Church for many years. Her story of coming back includes powerful lessons for parents and family members who anguish over loved ones who step away. She wrote:
“I could list a myriad of reasons for why I walked away from the Church, the gospel, and in a way, my family. But they really don’t matter. I didn’t make one big decision to leave the Church—I probably made a thousand choices. But one thing I have always known is that my parents did make one big decision, and they stuck to it. They decided to love me.
“I couldn’t possibly know how many tears have been shed, how many sleepless nights, nor how many heartfelt pleading words of prayer have been uttered on my behalf. They didn’t call me out on my sins; rather, they called out to me in my sinfulness. They didn’t make me feel unwelcome in their home and at family gatherings; any of those feelings were of my own doing. Instead, they continued to welcome me. They must have seen my light dim over time. But they knew that the person I was back then was just a shadow of who I was yet to become.
“Just as my path away from the Church was complex, so was my way back. But one thing that was not hard about coming back was the feeling of being back home where I belong.”

One of President Smith’s sons gave this poignant insight into his father’s character and to the source of President Smith’s great inner strength:
“As children, so frequently we would hear him say, ‘If only the people in the world would understand the trials, the tribulations, the sins our Lord took upon himself for our benefit.’ Whenever he would refer to this, tears would come into his eyes.
“A few years ago, as I sat alone with my father in his study, I observed that he had been in deep meditation. I hesitated to break the silence, but finally he spoke. ‘Oh, my son, I wish you could have been with me last Thursday as I met with my Brethren in the temple. Oh, if you could have heard them testify of their love for their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.’ And then he lowered his head, and tears streamed from his face and dropped to his shirt. Then, after many seconds, without as much as raising his head, but moving his head back and forth, he said, ‘Oh, how I love my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!’”

I remember vividly, as a child, watching Aunt Fia make her bed with a lovely new bedspread she’d been given as a gift. She often said how beautiful it was and how it brightened her and Uncle Andrew’s home. How could she know? By then she was totally blind. How could she make her bed so perfectly and keep her house so tidy? I loved to watch her brush and braid her nearly knee-length hair and wind it neatly into a knot on top of her head. What amazed me most of all, however, was her ability to communicate with Andrew, her sweetheart husband, whose hearing was almost gone. He would come in for lunch from his outdoor chores, affectionately greet her, and through gentle touch they would communicate what they needed to know.

By the time he was in high school, David gave up on cartoon characters. He used his artistic talent in more realistic drawing. “I never thought I’d be a cartoonist,” said David, “because you have to be a comedian. I was shy, and never very funny. I was serious growing up and hated to be called silly.” The bemused look on David’s face could be a mirror of one of his cartoon characters as he pauses, then laughs, “Nothing like I am now.”

A stake president in Logan, Utah, kept a guest book, and after he passed away that book was given to his son. When the son thumbed through the pages, he was impressed with the signatures that were there. Most of the General Authorities had signed the book. One entry he saw was:
Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1954
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

He thumbed through many more pages, and then he saw an almost identical entry ten years later:
Name: Elder Spencer W. Kimball
Date: 1964
Position or title: Apostle
Hobby: “I love people.”

“Because Daniel would not stop praying, he was cast into a den of lions, Daniel was righteous. …”
Danny Miller sat in his Primary class and listened to Sister Jensen tell the story of Daniel and the lions’ den. She finished by telling the children that she knew that the next time they faced a lions’ den, they could be as brave and courageous as Daniel. Danny thought that was funny. He had only seen lions at the zoo. And he had never heard of anyone being put into a lions’ den these days. He left the classroom and promptly forgot all about Daniel in the den of lions.
Then Monday morning at family scripture study, Danny’s dad read about Daniel too. His mother said, “The next time you have to make a hard choice, remember to be just as courageous as Daniel.”
But nobody gets thrown to the lions anymore, Danny thought as he headed to his room to get ready for school. “I don’t understand what all these scriptures have to do with me, anyhow,” he said to his cat, Tuffy, as he passed him on the stairs. “It’s just a lot of ancient history stuff, and I can’t understand it.”
Besides, Danny had more important things to worry about. He wolfed down his breakfast and took off for school. His mother couldn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, but he knew that if he went to school early enough, he might get there before Jason. Jason was a bully. Last week he had sat on Tommy Deacon until Tommy’s face turned blue. Jason had wanted the cupcake from Tommy’s lunch. Poor Tommy was ready to give it to him, but he couldn’t talk. That’s when Danny got into trouble with Jason.
He had picked up what was left of Tommy’s lunch—it looked like a steam-roller had passed over it—and tapped Jason on the shoulder. As Jason swung around, Tommy got away.
“Hey, squirt, what do you want?”
“Here’s Tommy’s cupcake,” Danny mumbled as he handed Jason the flattened lunch.
But instead of taking the lunch, Jason grabbed Danny by the hair. “I hear you’re pretty smart. Tell you what, I’m gonna cut you a break.” Jason told Danny that he had to help him pass all their tests, or else. Danny could imagine pretty well what “else” meant.
For the next week, he gave Jason the answers he wanted. Danny felt awful about it. He knew it was wrong, but he was afraid of Jason.
That morning as class began, Jason, who sat next to Danny, smiled and said, “So, are we ready for the math quiz?”
“What if I won’t give you the answers?” Danny whispered.
“Then I’ll tell the class that you’ve been cheating. Remember, all our tests from last week have the same answers on them.”
Danny was really scared.
Then, for some reason, he began to think of his Primary class. He remembered Sister Jensen’s telling them about Daniel. Danny thought sadly, That’s my name, too, but I’m not at all like Daniel in the Bible.
Suddenly he thought that Jason looked just like the wicked men in the Bible picture book who told Daniel not to pray. He looked at his teacher and his classmates and imagined how shocked they would be if Jason told on him. He felt as if he really were a prisoner in a den, and his classmates and his teacher were the lions.
Then, gently, a voice seemed to speak in his mind: Danny, do the right thing. Don’t let Jason see your paper anymore. It will be all right.
Danny remembered how the Lord had shut the lions’ mouths when Daniel was lowered into the den. No harm had come to him when he had done the right thing. Danny looked again at his teacher. One thing she absolutely did not tolerate was cheating. He looked at his classmates. He again imagined the boys’ laughter and the girls’ scorn if they found out. Suddenly the scriptures seemed very real. Here he was, Danny Miller, facing his own lions’ den. He remembered Sister Jensen saying: “Children, I hope that the next time you face a den of lions, you will, with Heavenly Father’s help, be just as brave as Daniel was.”
Mrs. Grant began giving the quiz. “Problem number one …”
Danny said a little prayer in his heart, then placed his hand over his page as he began to write. He glanced at Jason, who was scowling at him. Under his breath, Jason hissed, “Show me the answer, or I’ll tell!”
“Problem number two …”
Danny kept his paper covered. Jason raised his hand. Danny’s heart was pounding as Jason told Mrs. Grant in front of the entire class that Danny was a cheat and that he could prove it.
Mrs. Grant, in her sternest voice, said, “Jason and Daniel, I will see you after the quiz in my office.”
Danny peeked at the other lions in his den. The boys were not laughing; the girls did not look scornful. They finished the quiz, then Jason and Danny went to Mrs. Grant’s office.
Miraculously as Mrs. Grant began to speak, her voice softened, “Daniel, what is your side of the story?”
Danny told her everything and finished with, “I’m sorry.” Then he just looked at his feet. To his amazement she said how proud she was of him for having the courage to do the right thing. Danny had never felt so good in his whole life, even though he realized that Jason would probably get back at him somehow. But Jason could never make Danny do something wrong again.
On the way home from school, Danny thought about Daniel. At that moment he seemed very real to Danny, almost like a best friend!

When my wife and I went on our mission to Tallahassee, Florida, we started our missionaries singing. Our very favorite song was “Love One Another.” It helped when missionaries weren’t getting along.

With only three months left on my tour of duty, I was called on another hoist rescue. This time it was in the Ashau Valley. Two casualties had to be moved from a dangerous location in another double canopy area. Once again we hovered between the trees like a sitting duck, protected only by cover shots from our troops but threatened by incoming enemy fire. Things went well until we started to bring the second patient up through the lower canopy.
Rifle fire sprayed around us. The crew chief was going to cut the cable, dropping the wounded man back to the ground and to possible death. “No!” I yelled. “Tell me when he’s clear of the trees.” The crew chief kept the litter bearing the wounded man coming up and yelled, “Clear!” as soon as it got above the trees. I moved the helicopter up, then forward, while the wounded man dangled below, slowly being drawn into the cargo area. Finally the terrified soldier was inside and we were on our way back to the base. What an experience! What excitement!
Back on the ground, the crew hugged each other. We were grateful to acknowledge that we were delivered by the power and mercy of God. We also felt sure we would merit a DFC. The recommendation was written up and submitted with assurance that it would be approved.
The awards ceremony was scheduled for July 8, 1968, two days before my departure from the country. I didn’t have to fly any more combat missions, and I had been informed that the DFC had been approved. I was going home and would be a hero, finally receiving the award I had longed for for so long.
Since many of the officers were receiving decorations, the first sergeant was left in charge of the awards formation. Those of us who were recipients were out in front of the other men. I was second in line, next to the detachment commander, who was also receiving a DFC. This was the moment of glory I had been waiting for since childhood. This was the ceremony of grandeur envisioned in the dreams of my youth.
The commanding general’s helicopter touched down. His aide-de-camp scurried from the craft to talk to the first sergeant, as the first sergeant called us all to attention. The two men exchanged comments, then the sergeant took several steps and stood right in front of me. He saluted.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but your DFC has been downgraded. Take your place as fifth in formation.”
Pow! My dream was shattered. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I had to bite my lower lip to make sure I was in the real world and not having a bad dream. I was angry and hurt. Was this the type of gratitude bestowed for dedicated service which I considered above and beyond the call of duty? I did an about face, took two steps forward, made a right face, and moved to my new location as fifth in formation.
As the detachment commander had his Distinguished Flying Cross pinned on his pocket, I had to fight back the tears. I was happy for my boss and his deserved recognition, but I was disappointed at my own situation. When the general came to me, I snapped a salute. He returned it and pinned another Air Medal with a “V” for valor onto my shirt, saying, “Captain, this represents a lot of flying. I respect you for your contribution and congratulate you.” My heart was filled with resentment. How could he do this to me? I choked out a half-hearted “Thank you, sir.” We saluted and he moved on.
As I stood there with those mixed up feelings, I asked the Lord why this had happened. Surely there must be a mistake! It wasn’t fair! Then my spirit became calm as the words of my patriarchal blessing came to mind once again, telling me not to let Satan keep me from growth and development, telling me that the Lord would try me to prove my worth. The Spirit spoke to my soul, telling me that God had kept his promise to me—I was returning to my loved ones unharmed, I still had work to do in this life, and God had preserved my life. “Seek not after your own heart,” the Spirit whispered, “for the praise and rewards of men.”

Elder Chris Cole, Elder Aaron Romrell, Elder Lyle Roberts
We didn’t have a Christmas tree, but we did have a tree stand, a string of lights, and a few ornaments. So we took a broom and turned it upside down to make branches for the ornaments. Creating our “tree” built unity in our companionship. Plus is was a lot of fun.

I wasn’t part of the popular crowd at my high school, so my circle of friends was smaller than most. I was so shy that I kept to myself most of the time. I was, as the saying goes, “painfully shy.” Indeed, I was so shy it hurt.
One day as I sat down at my desk in history class, another shy girl sat down behind me. We had spoken to each other prior to this, I’m sure, but I didn’t really know her.
As she set her books on top of her desk, her notebook crashed to the floor beside me. I turned to pick it up and noticed the words Seminary—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the cover. I reached down and retrieved the binder. As I handed it to her, I timidly said, “Oh, you go to church on Saturday?”
Her face displayed confusion at the question. “No, why?”
I pointed to the notebook cover. “It says, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Doesn’t that mean you go to church on the last day of the week?”
She smiled and giggled slightly. Then she took a deep breath and asked, “What do you know about the Mormon Church?”
I answered quite honestly, “Not very much.”
She inhaled deeply again and asked, “Would you like to know more?”
“Yes, I would,” I replied without hesitation.
At that instant her lower jaw must have hit the floor. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked visibly relieved. I found out her name was Yvonne Anderson, and we became friends. Before long we had set a date for me to meet with the missionaries and receive the first discussion. And when I was baptized, Yvonne was there.
I know that notebook did not fall on the floor by accident. And silly as my first question must have sounded, it was golden: it opened up a way for one shy girl to say to another, “Would you like to know more?”
That day in history class, an instant bond was formed. Because of two golden questions, two shy girls became eternal friends.

Mary’s boy Joseph was born at a time when her husband was snatched away by the mob militia then terrorizing Far West. Hyrum and the Prophet Joseph were taken to Liberty, Missouri, where they were imprisoned. Under the compulsion of Governor Lilburn W. Boggs’s extermination order, she left Missouri with the stepchildren for whom she had taken responsibility, as well as her own son. Her sister Mercy placed Mary, who was seriously ill, on a bed in a wagon box with her infant boy cradled at her side.

In February 1839, when winter was still upon the land, they traveled east across the state and then across the Mississippi to Quincy, Illinois, bumping along in a springless wagon where every jolt brought pain.

When her husband and the Prophet escaped from Liberty Jail and came to Quincy, life again improved. The Saints moved to what became Nauvoo and established their beautiful city on the Mississippi.

The blessings that have come to our family from doing this work have been incalculable. Missionary work has brought the Spirit of God into our home and our hearts. About four years ago, for example, we invited one of Clayton’s former students, Sunil, to take the missionary discussions in our home. The missionaries did a wonderful job, and at the close of the discussion they both testified of the truths they had taught us. We both bore our testimonies, and Clayton asked one of the missionaries to close with prayer. Just then our son Spencer raised his hand. “Dad, can I say something?” He then rose to his feet and, looking at Sunil with the purest gaze, said, “Sunil, I’m only 11 years old. But I want you to know that the things the missionaries have told you tonight are true. I know that God lives. I know that you and I are His sons and that Joseph Smith was truly a prophet of God.” As he shared his feelings, a sweet, powerful spirit came into the room.
The next day Sunil sent an e-mail saying that while he had appreciated the clear explanation of our beliefs that the missionaries and we had provided during the discussion, “when your son stood and said those words, I felt something inside that I have never felt before. This must be what you mean when you speak of the Spirit of God.”

Dr. MacFarland also told about a World War II veteran who had heard him speak. This veteran sat down at his kitchen table and wrote a longhand letter to Dr. MacFarland. He wrote, “My wife and I don’t have much. I doubt we will ever have enough money to travel outside of Arizona. I was a soldier in World War II and was taken prisoner. For two years we didn’t hear one bit of news as to how the war was going. In all those months I never lost faith,” he said, “and then one morning I saw the American flag and a band of soldiers coming over the hill. I don’t know if anyone can understand the love I felt for my country that day, and have all of my life. I felt the same way the other night when I heard you talk.” Then he wrote, “Dr. MacFarland, you’re quite a guy. You just stay in there laying them on the landing deck.”

Another party writes, “We live in a large forest area. I got my boss to go in with me, and we rented a large vacant lot not far away that had no trees. We had it plowed, disked, fertilized, and did we ever have a garden!”