Gospel Story Finder

Some time before I was called as a General Authority, I faced a personal economic challenge that persisted for several years. It ebbed and flowed in seriousness and urgency, but it never went away. At times this challenge threatened the welfare of my family, and I thought we might be facing financial ruin. I prayed for some miraculous intervention to deliver us. Although I offered that prayer many times with great sincerity and earnest desire, the answer in the end was no. Finally, I learned to pray as the Savior did: “Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42). I sought the Lord’s help with each tiny step along the way to a final resolution.
There were times when I had exhausted all my resources, when I had nowhere and no one to turn to for help to meet the exigency before me. With no other recourse, more than once I fell down before my Heavenly Father, begging in tears for His help. And He did help. Sometimes it was nothing more than a sense of peace, a feeling of assurance that things would work out. I might not see how or what the path would be, but He gave me to know that, directly or indirectly, He would open a way. Circumstances might change, a new and helpful idea might come to mind, some unanticipated income or other resource might appear at just the right time. Somehow there was a resolution.
Though I suffered then, I am grateful now that there was not a quick solution to my problem. The fact that I was forced to turn to God for help almost daily over an extended period of years taught me how to truly pray and get answers to prayer and taught me in a practical way to have faith in God. I came to know my Savior and my Heavenly Father in a way and to a degree that might not have happened otherwise or that might have taken me much longer. I learned that daily bread is a precious commodity. I learned that manna today could be as real as the physical manna of biblical history. I learned to trust in the Lord with all my heart. I learned to walk with Him day by day.

Sabrina, 18, remembers the sister missionaries coming to home evening when she was 10. “They taught me simply but firmly that God reveals truth through prayer. They said I needed to kneel down and ask Heavenly Father in humility to give me a testimony. ‘Me kneel down?’ I thought to myself. A few days later, Mom wanted to go for a walk with my sisters and me. Even though the sun was shining and I wanted to go with them, something stopped me. I knew it was the perfect time. I knelt down in the dining room. I pleaded with Heavenly Father to let me know if the Book of Mormon was true. I asked Him if the principles I was taught in church were true. Five minutes went by. After I ended my prayer I remained on my knees. Suddenly, a ray of light illuminated my face. I could not understand this, because the house was dark. But there was a small window in the kitchen without a curtain, and the light was coming from there.
“I felt so happy. I realized that my Father had answered my prayer in this way. Now I have a testimony of all these things, and I know they are true. I know that prayer has tremendous power.”

I recently resumed my university studies. When the impression came to return to school, I worried about how I could provide for my family. Two days a week I would be in the classroom, not at work. How was my family going to make it?
Again, my wife and I made this challenge a matter of prayer, and the Lord responded. I began receiving permanent contracts, which have made it easier for me to make up workdays I miss while at school.

It had been years since I had attended sacrament meeting at the care center. But now, representing the stake Relief Society presidency, I had come back to visit a ward conference session at the nursing home.
As the prelude music signaled the beginning of the meeting, I glanced around the room. Some of those who attended were suffering the infirmities of old age. Others had been stricken with abnormalities at birth, and their whole lives had been upward struggles. Just to sit or to be strapped to a wheelchair was an accomplishment.
To my left was a familiar wheelchair, a little apart from the semicircle. I had seen this little lady each time I had visited. Thick, straight hair, squared to the chin, framed her bony face. Her jaw was twisted and loose, and her long tongue often hung out. The rest of her body was twisted and contorted, as though her joints were trying to bend in the wrong direction. But, strapped to her wheelchair, she seemed to await the meeting as anxiously as anyone else.
We sang and prayed, and as the meeting progressed, I watched the sacrament table. One of the priests seemed confident and experienced, while the other looked nervous. Then the deacons caught my eye as they approached the table, received the trays, and began to pass the sacrament.
One of them stepped up to the woman in the wheelchair. Her arm was twisted through the bar of the arm rail; her palsied shoulder did not respond. As the deacon approached, her twisted, toothless mouth fell open. Without hesitation, he took a piece of bread and placed it on her tongue.
From across the room came a high-pitched voice: “Did you see that sweet boy give bread to Rosie?”
At the amen ending the prayer on the water, I thought, “Shall I get up and help her with that tiny cup? How will she manage?” While I sat in my chair, the same deacon gently poured the water into that helpless mouth, blessing Rosie again with his service.
I sat, ashamed at my failure to act. Then, as that deacon stood before me, I saw the trembling in his hands, the questioning in his eyes, a pleading to know if he had done right. All I had seen was his strength and compassion. I nodded and tried to reassure him with a smile.
Had he been primed or prepared for that moment, or was it spontaneous? Either way, it was a hard thing for a 12-year-old boy. And I was overcome with appreciation for a young priesthood servant quietly fulfilling just another quorum assignment.

What are you doing? That’s where I was going to put the tent!
But these are the best trees for the hammock.
Ugh! You always do everything wrong!
Clara’s so annoying. She never listens to me!
You might disagree with her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work together.
Maybe Clara and I can try harder to get along.
Will you help me set up the tent over here? That way it won’t block the good view from the hammock!
Sure!

The young man sprang to his feet immediately after the bishop turned the time over for testimony bearing. At the same moment another young man, Bob Dickenson, stood up on the other side of the chapel. The deacon who was carrying the microphone was standing near Bob, so he handed it to him first.
Bob was getting married in a month, and he gave a beautiful testimony about temple marriage. Meanwhile, the other young man remained standing, obviously anxious to speak.
As I looked at him, I wondered who he was. I didn’t recognize him, but he did look familiar. He was college age, tall, blond, and tanned.
Bob finished speaking. The young man looked across the chapel, expecting the deacon to bring the microphone to him.
However, Bob did not see the young man standing, and he handed the microphone to his fiancée, who was sitting beside him. When she finished speaking, she handed it to her mother, who was sitting next to her.
By now the young man was looking concerned. He was still standing, and those of us who were sitting near him sympathized with his dilemma. When the mike was handed to still another member of the Dickenson family, he took a deep breath for courage and walked across the chapel to stand in the aisle close to the Dickensons. He was determined to bear his testimony.
When Brother Dickenson finished speaking, the microphone was finally handed to the young man. Just as he raised it to begin speaking, an elderly man, sitting directly behind the Dickensons, apparently assuming that the young man in the aisle was the deacon, reached out and took the microphone from his hand.
With a smile and a rueful shake of his head, the young man again stood patiently and listened as Brother Moulton spoke of the faith he had gained during a recent illness. When he concluded, he turned with a gentle smile and handed the microphone back to the young man, still thinking him to be the deacon assigned to that task. Everyone in the congregation felt a great sense of relief.
The young man stared at the floor for a moment; then he looked directly at the congregation.
“I have never borne my testimony before, because I never had one. Then this year I went away to school. Because of my great roommates, and through a lot of study and prayer, I found this wonderful burning feeling inside of me. And I know the Church is true.” He paused, searched for words, and simply added, “That’s what I’ve come home to tell you. I’ve told my dad how I feel, and he has come to church with me today. I’m so grateful for him, and I know that he will gain a testimony too.” There was another long pause. “I love the gospel. I want you to know that we have got a lot of problems, but if we stick to the Church, I think we’re going to make it.”
He sat down as abruptly as he had stood up. We were moved by the strength of his conviction. But I was still mystified! Why couldn’t I place him?
I intended to go up right after the meeting to thank him for his testimony and introduce myself, but by the time we had gathered all the family, I just wanted to go home. So much for good intentions.
At home I was putting on an apron when Julia, home for summer vacation, came into the kitchen to help.
“Mother, do you know who that fellow was who gave his testimony this morning?”
“No, I meant to ask someone.”
“Well,” she said in a voice that told me I was about to hear an incredible announcement, “He was the ‘Not-Here’ Craig Pinsey!”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“The Not-Here Craig Pinsey. All through my years in Sunday School and Primary, he was a name on the roles. Year after year the teachers would read out the names and Craig Pinsey was always ‘not-here.’ Some of the boys knew who he was, but to most of us he was just this ‘not-here’ name. Every time the roll was read out loud, we’d all get ready to shout ‘Not-here!’ when the teacher got to his name.”
She explained that it got to be sort of a class joke. “Sometimes, when we had a substitute who didn’t know all of us, one of the boys would say he was Craig Pinsey. Every time the teacher would call the wrong boy ‘Craig,’ we’d all die laughing!”
Julia shook her head with wonder. “Can you imagine? I’ve known his name all these years, and I’ve never met him. When he stood up this morning, Don leaned over and said to me, ‘That’s Craig Pinsey. I met him at school last year.’
“Mother I nearly fainted! I looked at him in amazement for a minute. Then I thought to myself, ‘Well, what do you know! Craig Pinsey … here!’”
As Julia told me this story, I realized that I knew who he was too. Of course, the Pinsey family! Why we’d given up on the Pinsey family years ago. Everyone knew that they weren’t interested in the Church. They were just too busy with their own lives, and nothing anyone could do would ever change them. So the visiting teacher’s messages were given briefly on the doorstep (because we knew we weren’t welcome), and we’d stopped calling to pick up the boys for church activities (because they always said “no thanks” anyway), and no one called Brother Pinsey for priesthood assignments anymore (because they knew he wouldn’t do them). After all, everyone had done his best.
But this morning, there sat Craig Pinsey and his father in church.
“Julia, that really proves you should never give up on anyone. No one should have a permanent ‘not-here’ attached to his name. If everyone would just …”
“Yes, mother,” she said. “It’s like Craig says, ‘If we really live the gospel, we all will make it!’”

Doug usually nodded pleasantly and then hurried past the two-story building where many elderly people sat on the front lawn. The people were frail and sad-looking, and most of them just sat there in the sun or shade watching the cars and people go by.
One day as Doug was walking home from school, a white-haired man with faded blue eyes suddenly reached out his hands. The sudden movement frightened Doug, and without thinking he moved to the edge of the sidewalk and started running.
Later that night Doug was ashamed of himself. All those people looked lonely, and probably the old man only needed a helping hand to rise to his feet.
The least I could have done was to stop and ask what the man wanted, Doug thought.
The next morning when Doug went out to feed his dog, Fluffy, he found the chain broken and his dog gone. After thoroughly searching the neighborhood, Doug decided to ask some of the elderly people if they had seen his dog.
He hurried around the corner to the Old Folks Home. And there was Fluffy, wildly wagging her tail while the old man who had frightened Doug the day before patted her.
The boy sighed with relief. “Thank you for finding my dog,” he cried as he dropped down on one knee to cuddle his pet.
“No use trying to talk to him, son,” another elderly man called. “He’s from Russia and can’t understand what you say anyway. We call him Nick because we can’t pronounce his real name. He’s nearly one hundred years old!”
Doug was suddenly filled with a mixture of feelings. He was relieved to find his dog but even more unhappy with himself when he remembered how he had felt the day before about this lonely old man whom Fluffy seemed to like so well. He felt even worse when he learned that the man had no known relatives and had never received a letter nor had a visitor.
Doug reached out and squeezed the old man’s arm in gratitude and sympathy. Then he picked up Fluffy and carried her home so he wouldn’t be late for school.
“Dad, do you know any Russian people?” Doug asked at supper that night.
“Russian? No, I don’t,” his father replied, looking surprised. “Why?”
Doug explained how he had met Nick. “He found Fluffy for me, and so I want to do something for him. It must be lonely not being able to communicate with anyone! I’m going to find someone who can speak Russian and ask him to visit Nick,” Doug said with determination.
“I wish I could help you, son, but I can’t,” his father said. “We have people of Polish and Italian descent in town, but I’ve never met any Russian families.”
Two nights later Doug was doing his homework when he thought of checking the telephone book. He found several long and difficult names, but when he called their numbers, he found they were all of some other nationality. None of them knew anyone who could speak Russian.
Doug began to stop by to visit Nick for a few moments every afternoon on his way home from school. The old man always seemed delighted to see him and enjoyed looking at his school work. On Saturday afternoons Doug brought Fluffy with him. Nick just smiled and nodded to Doug, but he talked softly to Fluffy as he patted her. After that he sometimes saved a piece of meat from his lunch for the dog.
How do you go about finding a Russian? Doug wondered, as he left the lonely old man each day.
One afternoon as he returned home, Doug thought of going to the university for help. He knew they had instructors from all over the world who taught different languages. So Doug raced to his room and wrote a long letter explaining about his friend Nick. He addressed and mailed it to the head of the university.
After almost two weeks went by without an answer, Doug had given up hope. But one evening a telephone call came for him. A man who spoke with an accent explained that he was a Russian touring the country with a group of Russian educators. One of the professors had told them about Doug’s letter. The man said he would be happy to go with Doug to visit his friend on Saturday afternoon.
The frail old man was in his chair as usual when Doug and the Russian educator reached the Old Folks Home. Nick was watching for Doug and Fluffy to appear around the corner, and he looked disappointed when he saw the boy wasn’t alone.
Doug smiled at Nick and then proudly said to the tall man beside him, “This is my friend Nick.”
The man bowed slightly, cupped Nick’s trembling hand in his strong ones, and began to speak.
Nick just stared, not daring to believe what he was hearing. His lips trembled and his eyes filled with tears. Then words started to pour out.
Nick’s excitement and his distinguished guest drew a group of other men. One of them brought a chair for Nick’s visitor. Although they couldn’t understand a word being said, they were all smiling as they watched Nick’s faded eyes sparkle while talking and listening.
Nick told the Russian visitor that his correct age was one hundred three and that he had left Russia over seventy years ago. Nick explained he had never learned English because he was a carpenter and had always worked and boarded with emigrants like himself.
The visitor gave Nick several newspapers in his language. He also gave Doug a simple Russian dictionary so he and Nick could really talk together.
Doug lay awake a long time that night. He was too happy to sleep. Finally he got out the new Russian dictionary and looked at the strange new words.
It will be great to talk with Nick, he thought, but we really don’t need words to be friends!

During the difficult economic conditions of postwar Germany, opportunities for education were not as abundant as they are today. But I always felt an eagerness to learn. One day, while I was out on my bike delivering laundry, I entered the home of a classmate of mine. In one of the rooms, two small desks were nestled against the wall. What a wonderful sight that was! How fortunate those children were to have desks of their own! I could imagine them sitting with open books studying their lessons and doing their homework. It seemed to me that having a desk of my own would be the most wonderful thing in the world.
I had to wait a long time before that wish was fulfilled. Years later, I got a job at a research institution that had a large library. I remember spending much of my free time in that library. There I could finally sit at a desk—by myself—and drink in the information and knowledge that books provide. How I loved to read and learn!

We have some sense of the rejoicing that is going on in Quito, Ecuador; Harare, Zimbabwe; Belém, Brazil; and Lima, Peru, both with members and missionaries, based on what happened in Bangkok, Thailand, a year ago when that temple was announced. Sister Shelly Senior, wife of the then-president of the Thailand Bangkok Mission, David Senior, emailed family and friends to say that after she and her husband had listened to President Monson announce that temple, there had been “12 sleepless hours and lots of tears of happiness.” They called their mission assistants at 11:30 p.m. and informed them. The assistants called all the missionaries. The report came back that the “whole mission was awake in the middle of the night jumping on their beds.” Sister Senior humorously admonished family and friends, “Please don’t tell the Missionary Department!”

A short time after our visit, Luan’s condition worsened, and his doctors found a large tumor at the base of his spinal cord. It could not be removed surgically, so Luan went to the hospital for another round of chemotherapy.
One night when President Soares and I visited Luan in the hospital, we found him in a lot of pain. He asked us several questions, including “What is death?” and “What is dying like?”
I explained that dying is part of eternity and that death is not a closing door but a door that opens for us as we go back to the presence of God. Luan understood and smiled. He said that now he was prepared. Then he asked us to give him a blessing, and we did so.
In the bed next to Luan was a 14-year-old boy named Pedro. Now Pedro asked us to bless him too. I asked if he had faith in Jesus Christ, and he said he did. We explained what the priesthood is and that we would be blessing him in the name of Jesus Christ. He closed his eyes and smiled as we blessed him. Next an 18-year-old young woman asked us to give her a blessing too.
I found out that Luan and his mother had comforted Pedro and many of the other young cancer patients and their parents. As I left the hospital that night, I was edified to see that Luan and his mother, though suffering themselves, found the strength to visit others and minister to their needs.

Elder Neil L. Andersen and his wife, Kathy, visited the Democratic Republic of the Congo in Africa. They had a Church meeting outside under tents. Around the tents was a big fence. Elder Andersen could see children watching them from the other side of the fence. Sister Andersen asked him, “Do you think you might want to invite the children to come in?” Elder Andersen walked up to the man at the microphone. He asked the man to invite the children to come in and join them.
The children came running! They were all smiling and excited to be a part of the meeting.

One of the many stake presidents that have aligned their efforts to gathering Israel is Chukwu Nnanna of the Abakaliki Nigeria Stake. In his words: “It all started at Port Harcourt when Elder D. Todd Christofferson visited with Elder [S. Mark] Palmer of the Presidency of Seventy. I had a deep conversation with Elder Palmer who thought me a Ghanaian as I wore a Ghanaian tie gifted to me by one of the young single adults who served in Ghana. He asked how many sons and daughters I had out there. I knew he wanted to know how many young single adults were currently serving full time missions. I thought for a while in my heart, and then told Elder Palmer that I was just three months in my calling as a stake president.
“He then said, ‘Send as many missionaries as you can.’
“I held on to those words and prayed that many will serve a full-time mission while I serve as a stake president. I asked the Lord to help me fulfill His words coming forth from His servant of the Seventy”.
President Nnanna continued: “As I reflected on what to do, knowing the Lord always provides a way to accomplish His purposes; my attention was drawn to the Gathering Place as the way”. The stake presidency standardized Abakaliki Gathering Place activities. The stake operates two gathering places to overcome challenge of distance as there are units about 70 kilometers away from the stake centre. Great are the miracles that follow the rising generation as the Gathering Place becomes a spiritual and temporal muster point for young single adults and their friends who are offered a wide range of activities such as missionary preparation, institute, skills acquisition, BYU Pathway, socials, family History work, self-reliance class, games and many more.
Evidently, the Lord Has blessed the stake presidency’s efforts in strengthening the Abakaliki Nigeria Stake Gathering Place. Today, in addition to the eight serving missionaries, a brother will be leaving for full time service to Nigeria Port Harcourt Mission in November 2022. A sister will go to the Kenya Nairobi Mission in January 2023. Literally, the prayer of a committed stake president has been answered and Elder Palmer’s charge to send many young single adults on missions continues to be fulfilled.
Consistent with priesthood direction and the principle of the Gathering Place, we have seen strong leadership development among Abakaliki youth as they are given opportunities to serve in the stake presidency, high council, bishoprics and stake family history with their exceptional contributions. At stake and unit levels, young single adults are championing family history and temple efforts. Temple worship has become a culture for these young people who contribute significantly in assisting our brothers and sisters on the other side of the veil.

For example, I know of a woman, a good woman, who found herself in a very challenging situation. She was at a luncheon with a number of members of the Church; some were active and some inactive; and also a few nonmembers were present. The subject turned to abortion and birth control, and one of the nonmembers voiced for about five minutes some very strong feelings concerning these issues. She indicated, erroneously, that she felt that there is nothing wrong with an abortion, and that there should never be any kind of restriction placed on a man or a woman concerning birth control itself. This good sister in the Church was faced with a difficult challenge of whether to talk about the weather or some other noncontroversial subject, or whether to really speak out and state the truth. This choice woman chose to do the latter. After explaining what the Lord had said concerning both of those issues, she bore her testimony as to her personal feelings. As you might expect, the luncheon concluded rather abruptly. However, afterwards one of the inactive women came over to this good sister and explained that she had never before understood the Lord’s view on those issues and had felt the truth being spoken on that day.

A true story from Germany.
“Nobody understands me!” Gabriela shouted as she slammed her bedroom door. Today had been a hard day. Someone at school had made fun of her. And when Gabriela came home, she was grumpy and got in trouble with Mutti (Mom).
Gabriela flopped onto her bed and started to cry. Tears ran down her cheeks, and her chest felt tight with anger. She didn’t like feeling this way.
She remembered learning in Primary that she could pray to Heavenly Father whenever she needed help. She wanted to say a prayer to help her feel better, but she was too upset to focus. She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. What could she do to calm down?
After a few seconds, a thought came to her mind.
Think of things you are grateful for.
She opened her eyes and looked around her room. There was a picture on the wall of Mutti and Vati (Dad). Gabriela loved her family, even when she was frustrated with them.
“I’m grateful for my parents,” she said.
Then she thought about her cousins Gwendolyn, Lydia, and Thomas. They always shared their toys with her and made her laugh. She loved playing with them.
“I’m grateful for my cousins,” Gabriela said.
Then she looked out her window.
The sun was setting, and the sky was filled with beautiful colors—orange, red, yellow, and pink.
“I’m grateful for sunsets,” Gabriela said.
And then she thought of more things. She was grateful for the lunch she ate at school today. She was grateful for her friends. She was grateful for the apartment she lived in.
It was fun thinking of things to be grateful for! Gabriela had never realized how many good things were in her life.
She knew that the Holy Ghost had given her the idea to think of her blessings. Her heart was peaceful now. She felt ready to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” she said. “I’m sorry that I was angry at Mutti. Thank Thee for helping me feel calm and happy again. Thank Thee for sending the Holy Ghost to remind me of my blessings. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
She walked out of her room. Mutti and Vati were in the kitchen making dinner. She gave Mutti a hug.
“I’m sorry for getting mad at you,” Gabriela said.
“That’s OK,” Mutti said. “Thank you for apologizing.”
They sat around the dinner table and blessed the food. Then Gabriela had an idea!
“Let’s go around the table and each say something we’re grateful for,” she said.
Vati smiled. “That’s a good idea!”
“I’m grateful for soap,” Mutti said.
Vati thought for a second.
“Pizza,” he said. They all giggled.
Then it was Gabriela’s turn. She already knew what she wanted to say.
“I’m grateful for prayer.”
Illustrations by Simini Blocker

Janette Hales Beckham related this experience her husband had while attending medical school. “Getting into medical school is pretty competitive, and the desire to do well and be successful puts a great deal of pressure on the new incoming freshmen. My husband had worked hard on his studies and went to attend his first examination. The honor system was expected behavior at the medical school. The professor passed out the examination and left the room. Within a short time, students started to pull little cheat papers out from under their papers or from their pockets. My husband recalled his heart beginning to pound as he realized it is pretty hard to compete against cheaters. About that time a tall, lanky student stood up in the back of the room and stated: ‘I left my hometown and put my wife and three little babies in an upstairs apartment and worked very hard to get into medical school. And I’ll turn in the first one of you who cheats, and you better believe it!’ They believed it. There were many sheepish expressions, and those cheat papers started to disappear as fast as they had appeared. He set a standard for the class which eventually graduated the largest group in the school’s history.”
The young, lanky medical student who challenged the cheaters was J Ballard Washburn, who became a respected physician and was recognized by the Utah Medical Association for his outstanding service. He also served as a General Authority and is now the president of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple.

Rebecca Bringhurst and Elisabeth Harper are friends who were very excited to finally take a ballet class. They could hardly wait to wear a tutu and dance on a real stage at recital time. A few weeks after classes started, the teacher told them the date of the recital. It was on a Sunday! Elisabeth and Rebecca told their teacher that they would not be able to dance on Sunday, but that they would still like to take the classes. Their mothers explained that it was a choice Rebecca and Elisabeth were making. The teacher did some checking and was able to change the date and get the theater on Saturday instead.

The Three Princes In this beautifully illustrated tale from the Middle East, a wise and lovely princess told her three suitors that she would marry the one who brought her the thing of greatest wonder. One uses his gift, a crystal ball, to learn that she is dying. The second uses his gift, a flying carpet, to take the suitors to her in time for the third to use his gift, an orange with special powers, to heal her. The gifts were of equal value in saving her life, but she could only marry one of the suitors. … Eric A. Kimmel8–12 years

In fact, some job experiences are so valuable that it might be worth your time to work for nothing. A young Latter-day Saint college sophomore in public relations (PR) volunteered to do publicity and general PR work for an entertainment center. At first his duties were far removed from public relations. He did errand work and was a general office boy much of the time. The next summer he was hired, this time receiving a little pay for his work. Meanwhile he was gaining experience and meeting people. When it was time for him to leave school, his first out-of-school job was helping to manage an entertainer and movie star he had worked with during the previous summer. His starting salary for his first job was higher than that of the dean of his college.

The bell rang. It was late at night. We did not expect anyone that evening, and I was wondering who it could be. I opened the door, and to my amazement, there stood the two missionaries who were teaching in the neighborhood.
The elders asked quickly if my boys were available so they could ask them a question. They were not. This was the time for them to be in bed for they were only 14 and 15 years old. The missionaries looked at each other, and the senior, obviously gathering his courage, asked me if I would talk to my boys and tell them to behave well at school because they were teaching one of the boys’ schoolmates. It was important that they, the missionaries, be able to tell their young investigator that my boys were members of the Church and then ask her if she had noticed any difference! What a terrible thing it might have been if my boys had not been behaving well! I promised the missionaries that I would forward the message and discuss the challenge with my boys.
The elders left, reassured, and as I closed the door, a scripture came flashing through my mind. I had used it often in the past years in meeting with the missionaries. “Go forth … that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls.” (Alma 17:11.)

Brother Brigham then took his horse and sleigh to Canada after his brother Joseph, a circuit-riding Methodist preacher and missionary, and “told him what I had experienced of the power of God.”28 Joseph and Phineas and their father actually joined the Church a week before Brigham did, having traveled again to the little Mormon branch in Columbia. But then the same humble elder who had first touched Brigham with his testimony traveled from Columbia to Mendon and baptized Brigham on April 15, 1832—in his own little millstream behind his carpentry shop. Brigham’s record of the event helps us understand some of the reasons for the powerful changes that immediately began to take place in him:
“Before my clothes were dry on my back he laid his hands on me and ordained me an Elder, at which I marvelled. According to the words of the Savior I felt a humble, child-like spirit, witnessing unto me that my sins were forgiven.”29