Gospel Story Finder

When he was a teenager, the Saints in Boise, Idaho, met with Church officials to talk about building a new tabernacle. The Boise members were asked to donate money to build the tabernacle, and Howard was the first to raise his hand. He pledged 25 dollars as his offering. That was a lot of money for a teenager in those days. “I worked and saved until I was able to pay my commitment in full,” he remembers.

Children are uncomfortably adept at seeing through insincerity, and sometimes startlingly open about stating it. I remember taking my son with me to the grocery store once when he was about four years old. At the checkout counter when he wanted a candy bar, I responded, “I’m sorry, Matt, I don’t have enough money for a candy bar.” I thought it was a clever response—I was telling him I didn’t want to while hiding behind words that suggested I didn’t have enough money. That night, when I told him it was time to go to bed, he responded, “Sorry, Daddy, I don’t have enough money to go to bed.” He was not fooled by my words in the grocery store. He knew I was saying that I didn’t want to buy the candy bar, and so he used my manipulative tool, words, to say that he didn’t want to go to bed.

I have fond memories of the day of my baptism when I was eight years old. It was performed in the Liniers Branch, the first chapel of the Church built in South America. After my baptism, as I was returning home along with my family, my oldest brother started wrestling with me, as he often did. I exclaimed, “Do not touch me! I cannot sin!” As the days passed, I realized that it was not possible to remain sinless for the rest of my life.

I would like to share a personal experience where had I not been committed to living a covenant life, my life and the lives of my family would be quite different. One morning, while attending BYU, I awoke to a dark influence in my bedroom. Three thoughts entered my mind: leave the girl I was dating, leave BYU, and leave the Church. I was stunned. I had never experienced anything like this before. I didn’t have the spiritual strength or knowledge of how to deal with it. I am grateful for the power of the priesthood blessing I received from a worthy priesthood holder that helped comfort me.

I have often thought of what would have happened if I had not been committed to living a covenant life and acted upon those thoughts. As it turned out, my relationship with the girl I was dating ended on its own. That kind of thing happens. But what would have happened if I left BYU and left the Church? The biggest impact would have been on my future family. If I had left BYU and left the Church, I would not have met and married my amazing wife; I would not have had six awesome children; I would not have had a wonderful daughter-in-law and an amazing son-in-law; I would not have had five beautiful granddaughters. Everything that is important to me would not have happened if I had chosen to leave the covenant path.

A bishop in Utah recently shared with me an outpouring of love in his ward for a young woman and her family. Through a series of beautiful events, the parents determined to return to the Savior and His Church. During the time they were distant from the Church, their teenage daughter was involved with a young man. Returning, this precious daughter felt immense love from her Heavenly Father during a Young Women testimony meeting. She determined to more fully live the commandments. She wrote, “I began the repentance process with my bishop.”

Soon after, she became ill. In her words: “[A] test showed … I was pregnant. I … began to cry. … My dad wrapped me in his arms and assured me everything [would] be OK. … My boyfriend … asked me to get rid of the baby. … I declined.”

She continued: “I have received so much love and support from our ward family. It has been overwhelming. [My] bishop and Young Women president have gone above and beyond to show their love and support. … I have seen the Lord’s hand … guiding me and my family. … A ward such as mine is the family everyone needs, especially a young woman in my position.”

She and her family, and her ward family, lovingly welcomed her baby boy this past February.

Peter Miller of Bozeman, Montana, was selected to receive an International Youth Year Award from the U.S. Secretary of Education. The awards focus attention on young Americans whose deeds and actions exemplify exceptional character and citizenship.
Peter was nominated and selected for his efforts in raising money for African famine victims by organizing a musical concert held in a Bozeman city park. The event featured 24 musical acts performed by students of Bozeman Senior High School.
Peter served as first assistant in his priests quorum.

When Cheryl suddenly lost her husband, Mick, she was devastated. As her first Christmas without him drew closer, the loneliness grew. Thankfully, her ministering sister Shauna was there. Shauna and her husband, Jim, invited Cheryl on many holiday outings. They noticed Cheryl’s worn coat and decided to do something about it. A few days before Christmas, Shauna and Jim brought Cheryl a Christmas present: a beautiful new coat. They were aware of Cheryl’s physical needs for a warm coat but also of her emotional needs for comfort and company. They stepped up to fulfill those needs as best they could and set a beautiful example of how we too can keep watch over our flocks.3

Your testimony will have immeasurable impact on the lives of those who hear your voice. The impact of a single testimony is illustrated by Brigham Young’s account of his own conversion to the gospel when Eleazer Miller, a humble missionary, bore testimony to him:
If all the talent, tact, wisdom, and refinement of the world had been sent to me with the Book of Mormon, and had declared, in the most exalted of earthly eloquence, the truth of it, undertaking to prove it by learning and worldly wisdom, they would have been to me like the smoke which arises only to vanish away. But when I saw a man without eloquence, or talents for public speaking, who could only say, “I know, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith is a Prophet of the Lord,” the Holy Ghost proceeding from that individual illuminated my understanding, and light, glory, and immortality were before me. I was encircled by them, filled with them, and I knew for myself that the testimony of the man was true. [JD 1:90]

For a time the Saints could not be comforted. The mourning, the black miasmic depression that descended upon Nauvoo was overwhelming. When Mary Fielding Smith, Hyrum’s wife, after midnight heard the high-pitched voice of Porter Rockwell, riding on a sweaty horse, shouting, “They’ve killed them! they’ve killed Joseph and Hyrum!” she screamed. And young Joseph wept. Soon all Nauvoo knew. Some felt bitter and wanted vengeance. Some who held command positions in the Nauvoo Legion went immediately and asked that they be marshaled. But the leaders had been told by the Prophet to stay home. That was that.

Letters came to Nauvoo from both Willard Richards and John Taylor. To reassure John Taylor’s family, Elder Richards wrote, “Taylor’s wounded, not very badly.” And peace prevailed in spite of the anguish. Many of the brethren absent on missions felt forebodings that day, even at the hour of the martyrdom. Only seven days previously the Prophet had sent letters to all the Twelve asking them to return to Nauvoo immediately. So it was that the returning Parley P. Pratt walked depressed across the plains of Illinois until he could hardly endure it. Finally he knelt and prayed for comfort; and then it was made known to him that the newspaper headlines he had seen in Chicago told the truth, that Joseph and Hyrum had in fact given their lives for the Lord’s cause, and that he was to go back rapidly to Nauvoo and tell the Saints to do nothing until the Twelve had reassembled.

Despite the provocation, then, peace and not war came in the aftermath of the Prophet’s death. With their Nauvoo Legion the Saints had power to win in any skirmish had they so chosen. But they who had been stereotyped as warlike and bitter and hostile and filled with vengeance demonstrated that they were not any of those. They were peaceful.

This was the greatest lesson I learned as a missionary in Argentina many years ago. Throughout my mission I did my best, and we were blessed with success, but my first year was different from my second year. The first year my motives were not completely pure. I wanted to lead the mission in baptisms, to move up the mission ladder, and to impress others. Thankfully, I was matched with a more consecrated companion, who showed me how to love and enjoy the people more, how to serve them with heart and soul, and how to forget myself and go to work with love. My focus and motives changed—I truly got a new heart—and I came home different than when I left.

Each day at the beginning of my film class the teacher gave us a writing prompt. After letting us write for about 10 minutes he randomly picked five people, who could choose whether to share what they had written. Whenever he picked me, I’d decline.
One day the prompt was “Are there certain kinds of stealing or borrowing without permission that are OK? What’s the difference? When was the last time you stole something?”
I wrote an answer to the prompt and didn’t think much of it. After a few minutes the teacher started calling on people to share. I noticed that the first four people each had a story of what they had stolen and how they stole it. Then he called my name. Even though I usually said no, I got a feeling to share what I wrote. I started talking about how I didn’t think there was any good kind of stealing. Then I answered the part about the last time you stole something: I’ve never stolen anything in my life. Right away my teacher didn’t believe me and everyone in the class thought I was lying. I insisted that I was telling the truth. After about five minutes of my being called a liar, the teacher said, “I’m going to call your mom and ask if you’ve ever been caught stealing.” I told him to go ahead and do it. Then he left the classroom to call my mom. While he was out of the room, most of the kids in the class kept saying I was lying, and I didn’t understand what the big deal was.
The teacher came back into the class and everyone asked him what my mom had said. He announced to the class that my mom had verified that I had never stolen anything. Some of the kids weren’t convinced, but most of them were just shocked. My teacher was impressed and actually said, “You’re a better human than I am.”
I’m grateful to my mom for teaching me the importance of being honest. Until that day in film class I never thought that honesty was that rare. I’m glad that I took the opportunity to share with the class what I wrote and that my mom was there to back me up. With the help of my mother, I’ve become a trustworthy person.

One time, Esther and Erica prepared a special family home evening when another family came to share it with them. First, the girls read a story about baptism from the Friend. Next, they acted out the story of Jesus Christ’s baptism with paper puppets they had made. Esther read the story from the scriptures while Erica moved the puppets. Then the girls showed the dresses they wore after their baptisms. They explained why they wore white and how they felt when they were baptized. Esther and Erica like to teach, and they are good examples for their younger sister, Lydia.

I feel privileged to be in Provo for the August 2017 commencement exercises of Brigham Young University. My dear wife, Diane, deeply wished that she could be here, but a long-planned family obligation prevented that. Diane and I met on this campus forty-six years ago. I had just returned from my mission to England and was resuming my studies here. Just a few weeks into the fall semester, I was asked by my mission president—who was still in England—to speak at his home ward in Bountiful. I had so recently returned from my mission that perhaps I was uncomfortable without a companion, so I called a young woman in my student ward whom I had seen but never met and asked her to accompany me. That first date turned into a courtship and then an engagement, and last month Diane and I celebrated our forty-fifth wedding anniversary. The year after our marriage we both received degrees from this institution—Diane while almost nine months pregnant. Coming back to where it all began is a profound privilege.

I remember years ago a young woman who had committed a very serious sin. Because of the anticipated public scorn, it was decided to take care of this as a family matter. The thought was to go to the bishop but he was not someone they identified with or felt comfortable with. Without really knowing it they declined the power and blessings of the keys of the priesthood that would have guided and directed her through this difficult process. Now years later not one of this sister's children or grandchildren have the blessings of the gospel in their lives.

Mr. Samuels smiled as he carefully steered the big school bus along the busy streets. It was the first day following a holiday vacation, and he was glad that the bus was running smoothly. When he had entered it this morning, he’d discovered that one of the rear windows had been left open. There were twigs and dried grass on the floor, but he found no signs of any damage.
A little later Eric and Steve, third-graders at Lakeview School, were sitting together near the rear of the bus. Suddenly they saw a pigeon flying alongside it.
“That pigeon wants to ride with us,” said Steve.
“He’ll have to get a bus pass,” Eric joked.
When the bus stopped for traffic lights, the pigeon perched on a tree branch in easy view of the boys’ closed window. When the traffic moved forward again, the bird kept pace with the bus.
“It not only wants to ride this bus, it also wants to sit in our seat,” Eric said, laughing.
The pigeon began squawking as it flew. People on the street turned and stared. Motorists in passing cars pointed at the funny sight. Some of them honked their car horns. The children on the bus howled with laughter.
“Maybe it sees its reflection in the window and thinks it’s another bird,” said Steve.
Eric waved his hands at the pigeon. “Shoo, bird! Fly away! You’re causing a traffic jam.”
The determined pigeon kept flying alongside them.
When the bus finally arrived at Lakeview School, Eric reached under the seat to get his books. “Mr. Samuels!” he shouted. “I’ve solved the mystery! There’s another pigeon under the seat, and it looks as if it’s been building a nest, because there’s a lot of grass and twigs down here.”
“So that’s it,” the bus driver replied. “I see now—they must have come in through the window I found open this morning. I guess the birds wanted to make their home in our bus. But they can’t live here, that’s for sure.”
Eric and Steve ran to get Mrs. Kappas, the principal, and Mr. Carter, the school custodian. Soon Mr. Carter brought a ladder, and Eric slipped a piece of cardboard under the partially built nest and handed it to Mr. Carter. Then the custodian climbed the ladder and carefully placed the nest on a sheltered ledge under the eaves of the school-house.
“I hope the pigeons will like it there,” Steve told Eric.
At recess time the children saw that the pigeons did like their new home. Busily they swooped back and forth, carrying bits of this and that to finish building their nest.
Eric noticed that one pigeon seemed to be resting a great deal between swoops. Turning to Steve, Eric said with a grin, “Well, I guess if I’d flown as much as that pigeon has this morning, I’d be tired too!”

What a state championship game this has been! Hillside and Boxer hammering each other all night, and now it’s down to this—four seconds left, Boxer leads by two, 77–75, but Hillside has the ball. Can they go anywhere but to Ryan Wilson? He’s having the game of his life. Thirty-two points, four steals, 12 assists. He’s been hot all night. But does he take the final shot? Everyone knows he’s the go-to guy, and you can bet that Boxer’s defense will be all over him.
Hillside needs to inbound quickly and get off the shot. Okay, here they go. Boxer has two men on Wilson. Whoah! How’d he get free? He’s got the ball, he starts a drive … No, he pulls back. Did you see that fake? Unbelievable! Is he behind the line? Yes, it’s from three-point land, and it’s … GOOD! Hillside wins! Ryan Wilson gives Hillside its fourth consecutive state championship!
Boy, he’s done everything right tonight. Everything. Defense, passing, scoring. Now he wins it all with a trey from downtown! Two men on him. He fires off a prayer. But for Ryan Wilson, once again the prayer has been answered …

When Joseph learned what had happened to Amanda’s family and others at Hawn’s Mill, he felt he would rather go to prison or be killed than let the Saints be slaughtered. The next day he attempted to negotiate a peaceful solution with the Missouri militia, which was poised to attack the Saints’ main settlement of Far West. Instead, Joseph was captured and held as a prisoner.

Nearly five months later Joseph remained in custody, confined in a cold, cramped underground cell in Liberty, Missouri. He wondered where God was hiding and how long He could stand to listen to the cries of widows and orphans. “O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions before thine heart shall be softened towards them, and thy bowels be moved with compassion?” he prayed. [20]

Joseph’s time in Liberty Jail teaches us that adversity is not evidence of the Lord’s disfavor nor a withdrawal of His blessings. Opposition is part of God’s plan to refine us and prepare us for an eternal, celestial destiny. [21] Joseph learned that the Savior’s infinite suffering enables Him to succor us when we suffer and eventually to exalt us. [22] In answer to Joseph’s anguished cry, the Lord listed all kinds of challenges before concluding: “If the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good. The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” [23]

Experiencing these things ourselves can endow us with Christlike empathy for those who are afflicted. “My heart will always be more tender after this than ever it was before,” Joseph realized while in jail. He wished he could be with the Saints to comfort and console them. “I never could have felt as I now do,” he explained, “if I had not suffered the wrongs that I have suffered.” [24]

In addition to heads of state, royalty, and entertainment and movie stars, Pam was able to show President and Sister Kimball through the Magic Kingdom.

“At the time I had only been a member of the Church for a few months, and I felt honored. I enjoyed being in the presence of this warm, wonderful, great man. Meeting President and Sister Kimball was a tremendous privilege for me because I realize how few people, some who have been in the Church all their lives, ever get this opportunity.

“I’ve had other great experiences this year as well. I met Great Britain’s Queen Mother in Toronto and many other special people who have taught me important things about life. On one of our programs in Washington, D.C., there was a young singer who was blind. He told how when he was young his parents thought he should be sheltered and kept apart from the rest of the world, so they fenced him into the backyard. He didn’t go to school; he didn’t have any friends. He was totally shut away. Yet he had learned to sing, and here he was on this program with national political figures and entertainers. This young man gave us all goosebumps with his singing. He sang ‘The Impossible Dream’ and showed us that being blind doesn’t need to be such a bad thing after all,” she said.

Pam’s work at hospitals and children’s schools has given her a special interest in the handicapped. She is learning sign language and now regularly assists the visitors to Disney World who are hearing impaired.

“I’ve been able to sign for our arts festival and recently at the Ohio and Pennsylvania schools for the deaf. You can’t imagine how excited these kids are when they learn that I am from Disney World and that I can communicate with them in sign language,” Pam said.

Before she got her job, Pam never realized how demanding or fulfilling the life of a storybook princess could be, but to her the rewards are more than worth the effort, for her job and her joys are in bringing happiness and laughter to others.

“Life is wonderful for me. I am having such a great year.* I joined the Church and I like doing all of the Church things—being around Mormons, attending meetings, and especially going to family home evenings. I love helping others, and get a special joy out of helping handicapped people. These experiences make me humble and give me a great appreciation for the things that I have, including the great privilege it is to be able to help make other people happy,” Pam said.

Tonight I want to tell you about a girl who was a pianist of some promise. When she was quite small, her mother sat with her on the piano bench each day, taught her the notes, and encouraged her to practice while she learned those first pieces.
Soon this wise mother decided she had taught her as much as she knew and that her daughter should begin taking lessons from a professional teacher. The young woman was encouraged constantly, and while in high school she had the opportunity to play part of a piano concerto with a symphony orchestra.
As she entered the hall the night of the concert, there was excitement in her heart. She felt confident and ready because her preparation had been thorough. She took her place at the piano bench. The conductor lifted his baton, and she raised her eyes to watch for his signal.
Suddenly her eye caught the face of someone she knew. It shifted her attention so that, when the conductor gave the cue, she could not respond. Her mind went blank; her memory failed; her fingers froze; she could not think of the beginning notes. The conductor cued her once more; still no response. Finally, after an agonizing pause, someone passed her the music so she could begin.
When the number was over, she rushed from the stage, thoroughly devastated by what had happened. She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. Anything would do, so long as she didn’t have to face her parents, her friends, the orchestra members, or any of the audience. Suddenly, in one brief moment, her whole life stopped, so she thought. But of course it didn’t. She had to stand up and walk out of that concert hall.
She didn’t die; the world didn’t stop. In fact, there is no record that it even skipped a beat on that momentous day. I know because I was there—I was that girl. I lived to play other pieces and to perform before other audiences because my teacher said I could. And my parents reminded me that I must go on. The humiliation still races through me when I think about it. But I have come to realize that my life did not end that night because, though I had been preparing for a piano performance, I had also been preparing in other ways. Perhaps more significantly, others had been teaching me and preparing me to pick myself up and try again.
My time of preparation had been carefully guided by people who loved me to include experiences with gospel principles. Those teachings were well cultivated inside me so that, when the time of hurt and embarrassment came, I knew I was not alone. I knew there was more to the valued experience of life than playing the piano.

Soon after my 18th birthday, I was invited by my bishop, who happened to be my father, to work on the ward welfare farm. The assignment was to thin beets in the company of other priesthood holders. I was a master of this slavelike labor; I have a lame back to prove it. I could do an acre in one day, providing I started before sunup and ended long after sundown, and providing I cared little about standing erect for several days.
I worked diligently up one row and down another, hoping to finish the task early. One of the older workers was my stake president, a banker by profession. It pleased me to see him digging in the soil and sweating under the hot sun. It was the first time I had seen this fastidious man dressed in anything other than a dark suit, white shirt, and conservative tie. I must admit that I enjoyed watching him get his hands dirty. In fact, I was so carried away by this pleasure that I sped up the soiling by deliberately kicking up clouds of dust in his direction as I moved by.
On one move past President Tietjen, he called my name and invited me to engage in conversation. I stopped, laid down my hoe, and sat on the soft ground. He asked, “Carlos, how old are you?”
I replied, “18.”
“Do you know how old I am?” he continued.
“Oh, about 70,” was my quick and foolish answer. I overestimated the mark by some 15 years.
Laughing outwardly, and I suspect crying inwardly, he said, “My time on earth is running out. Yours is just beginning. Carlos, would you sell to me the next ten years of your life?”
I thought to myself, what’s wrong with this money changer? Can’t he forget money and buying and selling for just one morning?
He was able to discern my thoughts and to note my discomfort. He quickly added, “I know that it is impossible for you to transfer to me part of your life. However, if it were possible, would you sell?”
With little hesitation I blurted out, “No, I would not.”
“Suppose I offered you $100,000 for those years,” he pressed.
Again, I declined his offer, saying that I had things to do in the years ahead.
During the next ten years, my visits with President Tietjen were few and scattered. On each occasion, he would refer back to the question asked in the beet field. He would say, “Will you take $90,000 for the remaining nine years? $80,000 for the next eight?” And on it went until ten years were gone.
It didn’t take me the full decade to appreciate the profound lesson which my wonderful church leader was trying to teach. He caused me to treasure those formative and crucial years between 18 and 28. He also motivated me to make plans and to initiate actions that would enable me to claim the most of my opportunities.
Earlier I shared a beet field conversation which I had with my stake president years ago. You will recall that I rejected his offer of $100,000 for ten years of my life. Those years between 18 and 28 came and went like a dream in the night. Have you any idea what I would have lost had I been willing and able to sell those years?
—Two years of military service in World War II, a precious time of testing.
—Nearly three years in the Palestine-Syrian Mission, an experience of eternal worth.
—Four years at the University of Utah, a precious learning opportunity.
My first year of teaching in the public schools, a time when gifts and interests reached a peak.
And cradled within all of this is marriage to my childhood sweetheart and the birth of a daughter and son.
Can you place a monetary value upon these formative years? No! They are priceless.