Gospel Story Finder

Bishop Drennan, Bruce’s father, probably gave out more books than anyone else. Manager of a department store in Ukiah, he posted a copy of a newspaper article telling about the Book of Mormon project on the bulletin board at his store. Many of his employees asked for copies.
“A Catholic friend of Bruce’s was extremely cooperative in sending his friends copies,” added Bishop Drennan. “She looked up addresses and made sure people got the books. At first we decided to continue giving the books for the period of time Bruce would have been on his mission, but it’s carried on past that time. I think the whole situation has helped my wife and me decide to go on a full-time mission when we retire.”
Sister Drennan, Bruce’s mother, also shared the books with people. “Because of the circumstances, it was easier for us to do what we should be doing anyway, sharing the Book of Mormon with our friends and neighbors,” she said.

A number of years ago I was in Atlanta, Georgia, as an attorney representing a man who was buying a business. After several days of negotiations we reached an agreement and signed the closing documents. That evening one of the sellers invited us to a dinner to celebrate the closing. When I arrived, he offered me an alcoholic drink, which I declined. He then said, “Are you a Saint?” I didn’t fully understand what he meant, and he repeated, “Are you a Latter-day Saint?” I responded, “Yes, I am,” and he said he had been observing my personal habits during our negotiations and had concluded that I was either LDS or had a stomach problem. We both chuckled. He then informed me that he had only known one member of the Church on a personal basis, David B. Haight (later a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles). They were both executives in Chicago with a large retail chain following World War II. He told me of the significant influence Elder Haight had been in his life and that he held him in the highest regard.
As I flew back home to San Francisco, I thought about what had occurred, especially in two respects: I was surprised at how it felt to be asked if I was a Saint, and I was impressed with the positive influence one outstanding example—Elder Haight—had on this good man.

Last October the Bountiful Utah Stake Primary encouraged children to earn money to buy copies of the Book of Mormon—but to pay for the book with their own labor—money they would earn.
Each placed his picture and testimony inside the front cover. Six hundred and twenty copies of the Book of Mormon with pictures and testimonies were sent to missions.
A few days ago one of those Primary children, little Sarah Richards, received this letter from Mrs. Earl Mock of Tucson, Arizona:
“Dear Sarah, Thank you so much for sending us the Book of Mormon with your picture on the inside. You are a very pretty girl and a very nice one. I will treasure the book and your picture and testimony always.
“I have just finished reading all of it and I too believe it is true. I enjoyed it very much and will be reading it many more times.
“Thank you again and may God bless you.”

The Baker’s Dozen Van Amsterdam baked wonderful things. He even invented a Santa Claus cookie. Everyone from miles around came to his shop—until he started to cheat on his ingredients, and the things that he made didn’t taste right. … Heather Forest (reteller)4–8 years

This Tabernacle is now full of words and music. Handel’s Messiah is being sung, and the world’s statesmen are propagandizing their people. But we do not hear any of it.
This Tabernacle is full of scenes from Vietnam and Washington. There is even a picture of men walking on the surface of the moon. But we are not seeing these things. The minute, however, in which we tune a radio to the proper wave band and tune a television receiving set on the proper channel, we begin to hear and see and experience what otherwise remains completely unknown to us.

A story is told of a woman who was upset that her son was eating too much candy. No matter how much she told him to stop, he continued to satisfy his sweet tooth. Totally frustrated, she decided to take her son to see a wise man whom he respected.
She approached him and said, “Sir, my son eats too much candy. Would you please tell him to stop eating it?”
He listened carefully then said to her son, “Go home and come back in two weeks.”
She took her son and went home, perplexed why he had not asked the boy to stop eating so much candy.
Two weeks later they returned. The wise man looked directly at the boy and said, “Boy, you should stop eating so much candy. It is not good for your health.”
The boy nodded and promised he would.
The boy’s mother asked, “Why didn’t you tell him that two weeks ago?”
The wise man smiled. “Two weeks ago I was still eating too much candy myself.”
This man lived with such integrity that he knew his advice would carry power only if he was following his own counsel.

Elder Ballard relates as an example an experience he shared with a returned-missionary grandson who wanted to hang some things on the cinder-block walls of his apartment. Elder Ballard went to his grandson’s apartment to show him how to drill holes and put in anchors.

“I did one and then asked him where he wanted to put the next one. He showed me, and I said, ‘OK, put it there. You saw me do it. Now you do it. Here’s the drill.’ So he did it. And he did the rest of them too. He went slowly because he was nervous. I could have done it twice as fast. But now he knows how. It built his confidence. If he wants to hang something else, he’ll just come borrow the tool. I hope he brings it back!”

In 1870 my mother’s brother, Mons Andersen, came over there to our home as a Mormon missionary. He brought local elders there, and they held meetings in our home. By that means Mother and Father were converted to the Church. Soon after, they decided to move to Utah. But it was not so with me. I was going to the parson’s school, and there we had tests to see what we knew about the Bible. The elders found fault with the explanation of the passages of scripture which I was quoting, so instead of me being converted, it made me rather bitter against Mormonism.
Then the time came when my parents sold our home and were going to Utah. But I had gotten bitter and did not want to go with them. So when they saw I did not want to go, they offered lots of inducement. Then I wanted to stay more than ever. I did not realize our home was sold and that there was no home for me to fall back on. The people who bought our home had moved in, and we had to stay with our neighbor the last night. I finally consented to go with them as far as Christiania (now called Oslo), the capital of Norway, a distance of about 90 miles. So on June 18, 1872, we left our home and started to go to Utah.
Now I must tell a little of what happened there. You remember that was as far as I had promised to go with them. From the station there we were taken to the headquarters of the Mormon mission in Norway, at Osterhausgaten No. 27. While we were there, they held a meeting in that hall, and my parents wanted me to go into the meeting. But I wouldn’t go in. You remember I said before that I was bitter. There was a lady there who saw that I did not go in. She said, “If it was my boy, I would whip him till the blood ran down into the heels of his shoes.” I heard her say it, but I thought she would have to be a good runner to catch me because I was a fast runner.
Now this is how they got me to go farther. They knew what I had said before I left home in Ringsaker, and my sister Agnete had said that if I didn’t go, she wouldn’t go any farther either. Father went out to a hat store and bought my brother Mathias and myself each a nice brown hat and gave them to us. He said nothing but looked sorrowful. When I saw my parents looked sorrowful, I remembered what I had read in the Bible: “Honor thy father and thy mother that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God gavest thee.” I consented to go with them. Then they cheered up, and I have never regretted it.

Clarette watched impatiently at the window for her father’s car. The delicious smell of roast lamb floating in from the kitchen assured her that dinnertime was near and that Papa would soon be home.
Clarette wasn’t thinking of food, though, but of the very important question she must ask her father. She had just returned from the home of her friend, Briget, where Sister Macy and Sister Wright, the LDS missionaries from America, were teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. Clarette’s parents were content with their religious beliefs and weren’t interested in learning more, but they allowed Clarette to hear the Mormon missionaries. They felt that she should learn for herself about Heavenly Father.
As the sister missionaries explained each gospel idea, Clarette listened carefully. Never had Heavenly Father and Jesus seemed so real to her. Things she had read in the Bible became clearer to her, and she was anxious to learn more.
Finally the headlights of Papa’s car announced his arrival. Clarette ran to open the door for him. After a hug and a kiss, Clarette began, “Papa, I want to be baptized.”
“Why, my dear, you were baptized when you were a baby,” her father replied as he hung up his overcoat.
“But, Papa. I want to be baptized the way Jesus was. I want to be a Mormon.”
Her father looked at her searchingly, then said, “Twelve is much too young to make such a big decision. You may go to the Mormon church if you like, but you may not join any church until you are older. Now let’s have dinner.”
Clarette knew further pleading wouldn’t help. Her mama and papa were reasonable parents, but when they believed something firmly, it was almost impossible to change their minds.
For the next few weeks Clarette continued to hear the missionary discussions at Briget’s home. Her parents drove her to the LDS chapel on Sundays and picked her up after meetings, but the subject of baptism was closed.
As Christmas neared, Clarette felt closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus than she ever had before. She knew that the gospel of Jesus Christ was true, and every day she prayed that her father would change his mind.
One evening Clarette’s father asked her what she would like for Christmas. Mustering all the courage she could, Clarette looked into her father’s eyes and said, “Papa, the only thing I want for Christmas is to be baptized. I don’t want anything else.”
She was afraid that her father would be angry with her for bringing up the forbidden subject, but instead he looked back into her eyes. “Clarette, my dear, if it is that important to you, I will give my permission.”
Three days later, on Christmas Eve, Clarette was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

What he was and had accomplished excited in me the desire to emulate him. For example, his fireside talks and frequent references to his mission in Hawaii and the beloved Hawaiian people created in me a singular desire to serve a mission in Hawaii. I even purchased a ukulele with a Hawaiian songbook and taught myself to play some songs. Hawaii, its people and music, are still a part of me.

Once, following a serious illness, I presided at a stake conference. To conserve my energy, I planned to leave the chapel immediately after the priesthood leadership session. However, following the benediction, the Holy Ghost said to me, “Where are you going?” I was inspired to shake hands with everyone as they left the room. As one young elder stepped forward, I was prompted to give him a special message. He was looking down, and I waited for his eyes to come up and meet mine, and I was able to say, “Pray to Heavenly Father, listen to the Holy Ghost, follow the promptings you are given, and all will be well in your life.” Later the stake president told me that the young man had just returned early from his mission. The stake president, acting on a clear impression, had promised the young man’s father that if he brought his son to the priesthood meeting, Elder Hales would speak with him. Why did I stop to shake everyone’s hand? Why did I pause to talk to this special young man? What was the source of my counsel? It’s simple: the Holy Ghost.

An excellent debater, Howard carried the district team to a division championship. The local paper heralded the news, but somehow they listed his name as “Harland Pike.” Howard’s response was simply, “Oh well, I know who I am.” What an assurance for us to “know who we are.”

Recently the Miller family participated in a ward program that helps new converts learn more about the gospel by attending group family home evenings. The Millers transformed their backyard into a stage. While her father, Dan, taught a lesson from Doctrine and Covenants 27:15–18 on putting on the whole armor of God, Angela became a living object lesson. As her father taught that each part of the armor represents a quality that will help guard against temptation, such as the shield of faith and the sword of the Spirit, Angela added that piece to her costume. Everyone’s favorite part of the lesson was when Brother Miller taught about the fiery darts of the adversary, and the missionaries got to throw “fiery darts” made out of yellow cellophane and popcorn kernels at her “armor.”

The gift of the Holy Ghost—in addition to the light we were born with—gives us a great advantage. It is one of the greatest gifts we can receive in mortality because it brings more opportunities for obtaining light and truth. Without the Holy Ghost, we are like a person walking slowly home in the dark with only a flashlight as a guide. When we accept the gospel of Jesus Christ and are baptized, we are offered a floodlight and a guide who knows the way. Now we can walk faster and see our way during our homeward journey.

And so matters rested until 11 years later. By that time my family had immigrated to Australia and settled in Sydney. There my brother began investigating a new religion. He brought home a few pamphlets that interested me and said he would ask the elders to call. I agreed, thinking I would be visited by a couple of distinguished old men. I was quite surprised when two young men about my own age called and taught me the basics of the plan of salvation. I was intrigued and agreed to undertake a series of discussions.
I listened to the missionaries but had no intention of joining the Church, especially when I learned about tithing. One day, however, one of the missionaries started talking about some pioneers who had been forced to make a long march to a place called Salt Lake City. I pricked up my ears and started to ask questions. Was this the church with the crickets and seagulls? When he mentioned Brigham Young, I immediately recognized the name and realized I had arrived at a major crossroads in my life. If I was to join any church, this was the one.

Oh no! I slept in, and I have a big exam today!
Hey! Hey! I need a ride to school!
Let’s go, then!
Seriously?
Today has been the WORST day ever, and it’s not even noon!
Last time I had a day like that, I said a prayer. My problems didn’t go away, but I felt a lot better.
Heavenly Father, please help me. Please turn this day around.
Camila! Can you come to my house? I need you to teach me how to paint for my school project! I even have ice cream.
Sure, Emi, I’d love to.
I guess this not-so-good day turned out pretty good after all.

President Benson tells us: “In the peace of [the temple], sometimes we find solutions to the serious problems of life. Under the influence of the Spirit, sometimes pure knowledge flows to us there. Temples are places of personal revelation. When I have been weighted down by a problem or a difficulty, I have gone to the house of the Lord with a prayer in my heart for answers. These answers have come in clear and unmistakable ways” (Ensign, Aug. 1985, p. 8).

At about the time of my seventh birthday, I learned a little about succession in the Presidency when President George Albert Smith passed away. Sometime later the picture in Grandma and Grandpa’s foyer was replaced by a beautiful picture of President David O. McKay and his counselors, Stephen L Richards and J. Reuben Clark Jr.
As a boy I certainly didn’t understand the deep significance or the process of succession in the Presidency—but I knew that the prophet had died and that we were led by a new prophet of God, with two counselors at his side.

President Nelson: When my grandfather A. C. Nelson was a young husband and father, just 27 years old, his father died. About three months later, his deceased father, my great-grandfather, came to visit him. The date of that visit was the night of April 6, 1891. Grandfather Nelson was so impressed by his father’s visit that he wrote the experience in his journal for his family and friends.
“I was in bed when Father entered the room,” Grandfather Nelson wrote. “He came and sat on the side of the bed. He said, ‘Well, my son, as I had a few spare minutes, I received permission to come and see you for a few minutes. I am feeling well, my son, and have had very much to do since I died.’”
When Grandfather Nelson asked him what he had been doing, his father answered that he had been busy teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ in the spirit world.
“You cannot imagine, my son, how many spirits there are in the spirit world who have not yet received the gospel,” he said. “But many are receiving it, and a great work is being accomplished. Many are anxiously looking forth to their friends who are still living to administer for them in the temples.”
Grandfather Nelson told his father, “We intend to go to the temple and get sealed to you, Father, as soon as we can.”
My great-grandfather responded: “That, my son, is partly what I came to see you about. We will yet make a family and live throughout eternity.”
Then Grandfather Nelson asked, “Father, is the gospel as taught by this Church true?”
His father pointed to a picture of the First Presidency hanging on the wall of the bedroom.
“My son, just as sure as you see that picture, just as sure is the gospel true. The gospel of Jesus Christ has within it the power of saving every man and woman who will obey it, and in no other way can they ever obtain salvation in the kingdom of God. My son, always cling to the gospel. Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. Never do anything that would displease God. Oh, what a blessing is the gospel. My son, be a good boy.”
A. C. Nelson, grandfather of President Russell M. Nelson.
Illustrations by Bjorn Thorkelson
Sister Nelson: I just love all those B’s. “Be humble, be prayerful, be submissive to the priesthood, be true, be faithful to the covenants you have made with God. … Be a good boy.” Six B’s brought to you by your departed great-grandfather. He certainly sounds a lot like President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) with his six B’s.1
President Nelson: He does, doesn’t he? It’s so precious to me that my grandfather would leave that record for us. We learned that his father’s children were subsequently sealed to him. So the reason for his visit was accomplished.

One of our sons struggled with fitting in and self-esteem during his teenage years. My wife and I prayed to know how to help him, and we were willing to do whatever the Lord would have us do. One day I felt prompted to ask my elders quorum president if he knew of anyone in need who I could visit together with my son. After some thought, he asked us to visit a woman with significant health challenges and, with permission from the branch president, to bring the sacrament to her each week. I was elated but also concerned about how my son would react to this weekly commitment.
On our first visit, our hearts ached for this dear woman, as she was in constant pain. She was very grateful for the sacrament, and we enjoyed visiting with her and her husband. After a few visits, one Sunday I was away and could not accompany my son, but I reminded him of our assignment. When I got home, I couldn’t wait to hear how the visit went. My son replied that he didn’t think his classmates got to do cool things like this. And he elaborated by saying that he brought his brother with him to help and that the sacrament went smoothly, but this dear sister had been sad during the week because she had invited friends to her home to watch movies, but her video player would not work. My son said he searched online, found the problem, and fixed it for her on the spot. He felt useful, happy, and trusted to do something that brightened her day. He felt God’s love for him.