Gospel Story Finder

Not long ago a single sister, whom I will call Molly, came home from work only to find two inches (5 cm) of water covering her entire basement floor. Immediately she realized that her neighbors, with whom she shared drainage lines, must have done an inordinate amount of laundry and bathing because she got the backed-up water.
After Molly called a friend to come and help, the two began bailing and mopping. Just then the doorbell rang. Her friend cried out, “It’s your home teachers!”
Molly laughed. “It is the last day of the month,” she replied, “but I can assure you it is not my home teachers.”
With bare feet, wet trousers, hair up in a bandana, and a very fashionable pair of latex gloves, Molly made her way to the door. But her stark appearance did not compare with the stark sight standing before her eyes. It was her home teachers!
“You could have knocked me over with a plumber’s friend!” she later told me. “This was a home teaching miracle—the kind the Brethren share in general conference talks!” She went on: “But just as I was trying to decide whether to give them a kiss or hand them a mop, they said, ‘Oh, Molly, we are sorry. We can see you are busy. We don’t want to intrude; we’ll come another time.’ And they were gone.”
“Who was it?” her friend called out from the basement.
“I wanted to say, ‘It certainly wasn’t the Three Nephites,’” Molly admitted, “but I restrained myself and said very calmly, ‘It was my home teachers, but they felt this was not an opportune time to leave their message.’”

About a hundred years ago, Sarah Young Vance qualified as a midwife. Before she began serving the women of Arizona, a priesthood leader blessed her that she would “always do only what was right and what was best for the welfare of her patients.” Over a period of forty-five years Sarah delivered approximately fifteen hundred babies without the loss of a single mother or child. “Whenever I came up against a difficult problem,” she recalled, “something always seemed to inspire me and somehow I would know what was the right thing to do” (L. J. Arrington and S. A. Madsen, Sunbonnet Sisters: True Stories of Mormon Women and Frontier Life, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1984, p. 105).

Come with me to the Black Sea in Bulgaria. As you heard just a few moments ago, these young people had standing ovations everywhere, and they won the first prize in the Mime Neptune Festival and, of course, on the final night the gold medal for first place for the entire festival. But life is not all roses every day as you go into these countries. Let me tell you about tragedy striking on the shores of the Black Sea.

Brother Clayne Jensen, the husband of Mary Bee Jensen, was taking photographs of sixty or seventy young people from every nation of the western and eastern Europe—arms around one another, having enjoyed the comradery of the festival, they were posing on the shores of the Black Sea with their swimming suits on. Of course everyone wanted a photo record of this great moment—so down came one camera and came another camera, and soon Brother Jensen was standing with one camera in his hand and another twenty-five cameras at his feet. Just as he was ready to snap the shutter, here came a big wave. Sand, sand, salt water, twenty-five cameras, all were churned up together—the wave got every one of them except for the fifteen-dollar camera he had in his hand.

A few weeks ago I was in a social gathering with a friend of many years—a friend who recently retired, is well educated, and has been very successful. He is recognized in his country as the leader in his field. As we sat next to one another at dinner, he turned to me and asked about the Church. This was somewhat surprising because I was aware that he, like many in the world today, had rationalized God out of existence. His question was earnest. It was apparently something he had been thinking about because it came without anything in the previous conversation that would have prompted it.

I responded by telling him of the Restoration—that God the Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to Joseph Smith and that through him the priesthood and authority of God were restored to the earth. I bore witness that I knew assuredly that what I had told him was true. There was a long pause as I watched him ponder what I had said. Then, knowing that he was internalizing what he had heard, I leaned over and said, “You can know as surely as I know that what I have borne witness to is true. If you will ‘ask God, the Eternal Father, … with a sincere heart, … having faith in Christ, [I promise you that] he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost [you] may know the truth of all things.’”

He continued to ponder. Unfortunately we were interrupted by the other guests and that precious moment passed, but I knew that in his heart he was still internalizing what he had heard and felt. And I hope that an opportunity will come again, for there is so much more that I would like to share with him. I know that he, like thousands or millions of others in the world today, is content with life as it is. As Nephi stated, they have been pacified and lulled away “into carnal security.” They have been steeped in traditions and taught by the precepts of men.

When I was about six, my father bought the only small store in town. He also kept the farm. We were very poor, and Dad worked hard so that he could pay the bills. While Dad worked on the farm, my sister and I worked almost every day in the store. We had two gas pumps out front, and even as a youngster I learned how to pump gas into cars. I also learned how to write up sales. Sometimes I took care of the store all alone, even though I was quite young.
Mother spent most of her time in bed because she was sick, so I learned early to do chores and be responsible. I did the family wash and ironed my own clothes. From her bed, Mother taught me how to make bread, and that became my weekly chore. Of course, few children like to clean their rooms, and I was normal. I could put that off because it was upstairs and Mother didn’t get up there often! But I did all my other jobs as best I could.
Dad was in the bishopric for seventeen years, practically the whole time I was growing up. My sister and I would walk the three-quarters of a mile to church and sit in the congregation and watch Dad up on the stand. Then we’d walk home and tell Mother about what we’d learned. Mother’s health gradually improved, and from the time I finished high school, she lived a normal, active life.
Seeing Dad up on the stand is a fond memory because I knew that Dad was doing what Heavenly Father wanted him to do. As long as he was trying to do what was right and serving Heavenly Father, everything was OK. Nothing was lacking in our lives. I knew that Dad was doing his best. I knew that Heavenly Father was taking care of Mother. And I knew that all I had to do was do my best, and Heavenly Father would help us.
We all must have faith in Jesus Christ. When we have faith in Jesus Christ and hard things happen in our lives, we can be strong. We can know that Heavenly Father loves us, He is aware of us, and He is there for us.

A little while ago I met a guy I had seen around school. We talked and got to know each other, and even though I’m only 14, we were soon “going together,” as our school calls it. The reason I decided to go out with him was because a lot of my friends were going with someone and seemed to be having a lot of fun. Besides, he was a few days from turning 16, and he was LDS too. Soon after, I remembered a Q&A in the New Era (May 1996) about dating and pairing off before you’re 16. I tried to rationalize it, but I couldn’t and the thought persisted. The article helped me end the “relationship” the very next day.
Name WithheldSalt Lake City, Utah

There was a Filipino woman in Manila. I was standing in my office, and I looked down to see her walking on two very heavily calloused knees dragging two crippled legs behind her going to the temple. I called downstairs to Bishop Santos and asked him how long it would take him to find and buy a new wheelchair. He said it would take a little over an hour. I asked him, “Will you go out and buy a new wheelchair and take it over to the temple? You’ll see a woman coming out walking on her knees. I’d like you to present it to her.”

He left and came back with the wheelchair and put it behind a pillar of the temple. As the woman came out, he went up to her and asked, “Do you have a wheelchair?”

She began to weep and said, “No. I used to, but it wore out and fell apart. I’ll never be able to afford another one as long as I live.”

He replied, “How would you like a wheelchair?”

This wonderful woman cried. Bishop Santos went behind the pillar and pulled out the wheelchair, and they lifted her up into it. I watched as they wheeled her across the street to the patron housing.

When I was a freshman at BYU, I was so looking forward to receiving a call and beginning to serve in my campus ward. During our first week in the ward, we filled out surveys indicating our talents, interests, and experience. About a week later I had an appointment with the bishop. After the introductory exchange he said, “Sister Nyland, we’d like you to serve as the Relief Society chorister.” I nearly fell off the chair. I said, “But Bishop, I don’t know anything about music.” He was quite surprised at that and said, “Well, let’s look at the cards.” All of the data from our surveys had been entered onto punch cards (something many of you are too young to remember), and he stuck a skinny little knitting needle into the hole for music ability. Mine was the only card that came out of the stack as having no musical skill. He thought that was interesting, as did I, but he asked me if I’d like to try anyway. Well, I’d been raised to accept callings, so I told him that I would accept this call and ask my roommate to help me. Susan and I went to the basement of our dorm, and she sat at the piano, plunking out the melody with one hand and showing me how to lead it with the other. We practiced and practiced each Saturday. I did learn the pattern for 4/4 and 3/4 time, but I never could quite get the pattern to match the beat of the music. Mercifully, after about a month I was released, and my roommate was called to lead the music!

Growing up, I was a learn-by-doing kind of kid. Among other family chores was the twice-daily milking of our small herd of Jersey cows. We milked by hand, and, as I was the baby of the family and too small to milk, my assignment was to herd the cows in and out of the barn and then clean the milk-barn floors at the end of each milking session. It seemed as if those cows would save up all night so that they could relieve themselves on my shiny, clean floor.

Being an observant child, I noticed that before they made their green deposits, they always lifted their tails. That signal gave me the best idea. I would stand by with my large aluminum scoop shovel, and when the tail went up, the scoop went under, and I caught the prize before it had a chance to splatter all over the milk-barn floor.

My dad, seemingly amused and unimpressed by my creativity, said, “Son, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I thought to myself, “Yeah, sure, but you don’t have to clean up this mess every day.”

So I chose to ignore him, and he allowed it. A couple of days later, after nearly total and very satisfying success, the tail went up and the scoop went under and midway through the event the cow gave a great cough. Now, at my age and stature, I had a birds-eye view of this fine part of the cow’s anatomy, and that cough sent a spray of pasty, green liquid that covered me from head to toe. I stood there mortified.

My dad came over laughing and wiped the outline of first one eye and then the other and simply said, “I told you not to do that.”

It was my first lesson of “lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). It was a lesson I would have liked to learn through obedience and trust.

My best friend was born outside in the streets. Her mother was only 14. Following in her mother’s footsteps, she conceived her first child at the age of 13, making her mother a grandmother at age 27. She had her third child by the age of 19. After leaving her third boyfriend, she moved in with her mother, adding her three children to her mother’s six. My friend had the responsibility for nine children under the age of seven before she reached her twentieth birthday. As I looked at my friend’s life, I realized that I wanted something better for myself. I wanted a home and a family. I knew I had to leave the ghetto.

After Parley P. Pratt was ordained an Apostle, Oliver Cowdery, one of those appointed to help select the Apostles, gave a specific charge to Parley, saying that he would “have the same difficulties to encounter in fulfilling this ministry, that the ancient Apostles had.” He said that Parley would face “strong dungeons and gloomy prisons,” but such circumstances should not daunt him, because the trials would enable him “to receive the glory” the Lord had in store for him.7
Parley’s life followed that pattern. He at times faced crushing poverty. He experienced ridicule as he preached the gospel. He was imprisoned in 1838 and 1839 on charges stemming from difficulties that Church members faced in Missouri. Yet Parley also experienced the blessings Oliver had promised. Not long after his release from prison, he wrote, “We are well, and greatly prospered in the Lord, after all our tribulation.”8

The story of Small Temples in our day is a remarkable one! In 1998 President Hinckley went to Colonia Jaurez to be part of the Centennial Celebration of the Juarez Academy. He was given a list of the General Authorities who had come from the Colonies in Mexico. It is an impressive list and through the years has included many Seventy, members of the Twelve Apostles and even members of the First Presidency. President Hinckley was impressed with the faithfulness of the saints and that they went clear to Mesa Arizona for their temple work. It was in connection with this experience that President Hinckley received the inspiration for the smaller temples.

President Hinckley told the Church News that on the way home, “I took a piece of paper and sketched out the [floor] plan and turned it over to the architects to refine it.”[5]

I was in the room when he gave his foot print of the small temple to the Physical Facilities directors. He said, “Get this done right away, hire more architects if you need to, but get it done!”

At first the President referred to these new buildings as endowment houses. But as he visited the first one to be built in Monticello, Utah, the Saints came to him and thanked him for “their temple.” President Hinckley was at peace with the concept - they were temples. All the ordinances that could be performed in a large temple could also bless the lives of members in remote places.

I have seen it in my travels across the world. In a city of more than 10 million people, I spoke to the Latter-day Saints gathered by the thousands in conference. It was held in a large sports arena.
Before the meeting began, I noticed a handsome young man sitting on the front row. He was surrounded by others who, like him, were better dressed than most of those around them. I asked the General Authority of the Church near me who the men were. He whispered that it was the mayor of the city and his staff.
As I walked to my car after the meeting, I was surprised to see the mayor waiting to greet me, flanked by his staff. He stepped forward, extended his hand to me, and said, “I thank you for coming to our city and to our country. We are grateful for what you do to build up your people. With such people and such families, we could create the harmony and the prosperity we want for our people.”
I saw in that moment that he was one of the honest in heart placed by God in power among His children. We are a tiny minority among the citizens of that great city and nation. The mayor knew little of our doctrine and few of our people. Yet God had sent him the message that Latter-day Saints, under covenant to trust God and His authorized servants, would become a light to his people.

I decided to try the scripture-anecdote-testimony combination in my next speaking assignment to see if it might improve my effectiveness. I spoke about the temple and the joyous experience my family and I shared when we were sealed together. Next I explained the importance of temples and quoted a scripture to emphasize my point. Finally, I bore my testimony of temples and the eternal blessings they provide.
The congregation didn’t stand and applaud my talk at the end of the meeting, but they didn’t fall asleep either. As a matter of fact, several people complimented me on my talk—something that was usually done only by my wife and the bishop. I felt good about the talk I had given.

Another time, they took “warm fuzzy cupcakes” (fuzzy socks rolled into the shape of cupcakes) to the residents of another assisted-living home.
“While there we celebrated a woman’s 101st birthday!” says Ryan. “We had a great time talking with the residents, laughing with their jokes, and learning from their life lessons. One woman was 103 and still loved doing crossword puzzles on her iPad with her friend who was 102!”

As a young missionary I witnessed such an example in the conduct of President Harold B. Lee. I had the privilege of traveling through my mission with Elder Lee, who at the time was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. During the trip he was suffering with stomach pain from what was thought to be an ulcer. Some individuals might be unpleasant traveling companions with such discomfort, perhaps feeling irritable or complaining, but Elder Lee was not the least bit unpleasant.

One evening, after driving several hours, we stopped for dinner, and a young waitress came to take our orders. Elder Lee, feeling the painful effects of his condition, asked only for a bowl of “milk toast.” The young lady replied that he could not have milk toast because it was not on the menu. Elder Lee, in a kindly manner, simply requested two slices of toast and a glass of milk. He then asked if it would be too much trouble to warm the milk. When his meal was served, he politely asked if he might please have an empty bowl. After he received the bowl, he thanked the waitress and proceeded to break the bread into the bowl and pour the warm milk over it. He did not get upset or impatient; he just kindly resolved the situation. I have always been grateful to have observed this mark as it was added to President Lee’s touchstone.

Shortly after graduating high school, Enoch discovered the power of music. Passing by a classroom in church one day, he saw the missionaries teaching members to play the piano, and he was captivated by it. He sat in and listened as they taught what musical notes look like on a page, and how they relate to the piano keys. Curiously enough, it all made perfect sense to him. The 30 minutes of instruction ended, and the missionaries eventually left, but his interest remained, so he learned to play on his own, note upon note, stanza on stanza, playing just the melody first with one finger, then with two, then playing with both hands, and by perserving through the struggles, he learned to play beautifully.

When I was younger, I made a friend who wasn’t a Church member. She and her family had been invited to church before, but they weren’t interested. I prayed about it and felt that I should go to their house and give them a copy of the Book of Mormon.
The next day I gave the Book of Mormon to my friend and her family and asked if they’d be willing to read just one chapter. I went home and told my mom that I wasn’t sure if they would do it. After a while, my friend asked if I wanted to spend the night at her house. While there, her family said that they’d read a little bit from the Book of Mormon but didn’t feel like it was the right time to learn more about the Church.
At dinner, my friend’s dad asked what members of the Church usually did before eating. I explained that we pray over the food. He asked if I’d be willing to pray. I was surprised! But I was also excited to share what I believed in. They thanked me for my prayer, and my friend said that she’d felt something as I prayed that made her feel good inside. We talked for the rest of dinner about prayer and more of what I believe in.
The next morning at breakfast, my friend’s dad prayed for a blessing on the food. He then mentioned that he had also prayed before bed the night before.
Though they haven’t joined the Church, I still keep in touch with them and answer their questions about the Church and encourage them to read the Book of Mormon.
I am glad that I could be a missionary and help them feel the Spirit. I know that by ministering to them and helping them feel the Spirit, I’ve helped them come closer to Christ.

It would never happen, you might say, but Kelli Pay of Glendale, Arizona, knows better. When she was on her mission in Ecuador, she really did have only five minutes to get ready to give a sacrament meeting talk.
“My heart pounded and my mind raced, but I was calmed with the fact that I had done this before,” says Kelli.
Remember Kelli and Brook? Kelli excelled in the public speaking competition—something that came in handy on her mission.

In May of 1984 I was finishing the last full day of my mission to the wonderful people of Uruguay. My shoes were worn, my feet were calloused, and my 100-percent polyester suits had taken on an almost mirror-like shine. Some of you might remember those—we called them our “steel-wool” suits. People had to shield their eyes when missionaries stepped out into the sunlight! I have to say that for my two sons who are offering the prayers today, the suits they took on their missions are much nicer than the missionary suits of thirty years ago. Well, back to the story. My bags were packed and I was in the mission home preparing to catch my flight home the next day.

As I waited for my final interview with my mission president, I was reflecting back on my experiences—the highs, the lows, the joys, and the sorrows. I had worked hard! I had given it my all. But at that moment I was focused on my shortcomings—the things that I wished I had done better. In the middle of my reflecting, President Waldo P. Call invited me into his office. He immediately asked me how I felt about my mission.

I told him that I had worked hard, that I had given it everything I had, but that I wished I could go back—go back in time. I would be so much more effective if I could just do it all over again.

His answer did not comfort me much at the time. He said, “No, you wouldn’t.” And then he went on to explain: “If you could turn back the clock, you would do things the very same way. You wouldn’t have had the experiences that you’ve learned so much from—you would have to start all over again.” And then he finished with a rhetorical question: “That’s the point of it all, isn’t it?”

I pondered that counsel, but at the time I did not fully understand that it held one of the keys to a fulfilling and joyful life.

I had worked diligently; I had put my whole heart into my mission. But, at least for a time, I let the fact that I was not as capable at the beginning or the middle as I had become toward the end diminish my appreciation for the life-changing lessons I had learned and undermine the joy I could and should have experienced on completing an imperfect but honorable full-time mission.

In the succeeding years since that time—perhaps especially in the past few as I have served as bishop of my home ward in Springville—I have learned a different and, I think, clearer view of the nature and purpose of life. I have developed a deeper understanding of how our Father in Heaven sees you and me, our weaknesses and our shortcomings, and even the mistakes we make along the way. This perspective has made my life so much more joyful and so much more fulfilling! I hope my thoughts may be helpful to some of you.