Gospel Story Finder

The young adult center in Oslo, Norway, is just one of many centers where young adults are learning how to build the kingdom. Take Mathilde Guillaumet, from France. Missionaries began teaching her at a center in Paris in 2009 after Sister Guillaumet’s friend invited her to learn more about the gospel.
Sister Guillaumet was baptized in 2010 and then moved to Norway for a year, where the local center for young adults continued to play a role in her growing testimony.
“The center really was a home away from home. It was definitely more welcoming than my dorm room,” said Sister Guillaumet. “The center’s missionary couple became like parents—wonderful people to come to for comfort and advice. Both in Paris and in Oslo, I have been able to go to the missionary couple to talk about the gospel, which I couldn’t do at home, considering I am the only member in my family.”

As you approach old age, you will face new challenges to self-mastery. Symptoms of the deteriorating body can be painful, even disabling. Deep aches of sadness are caused by the departing of loved ones. For some, these deepening trials come early in life. But when yours are thrust upon you, remember a concept expressed by my father some time after my mother had passed away. Your grandparents had been married for sixty-four years. When someone asked how he was doing, my father simply stated, “I’m lonely, but I’m not lonesome.” Do you know what he meant? Though he was now without his sweetheart, he was so busy assisting family and friends, he had replaced sorrow with service and had displaced self-pity with selfless love. He had found joy in following the timeless example of the Master.

When Daniel’s daughter turned eight, he knew she would want to share her baptism day with friends who were not members of the Church. So their family decided to extend invitations for Allison’s baptism to friends from school and the neighborhood. These friends were asked to bring favorite Bible verses to the baptism. After the baptism, Allison underlined the verses in her new set of scriptures and wrote her friends’ names in the margins.
“Of course, as her family, we were very involved in that day. But we also let her just be with friends a while afterward and talk to them about what she felt,” Daniel said. “It was a really tender moment to see our child set an example.”

Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce Indian tribe was told by his father as a young man:
When I am gone, think of your country. You are the chief of these people. They look to you to guide them. Always remember that your father never sold his country. You must stop your ears whenever you are asked to sign a treaty selling your home. A few years more, and the white men will be all around you. They have their eyes on this land. My son, never forget my dying words. This country holds your father’s body. Never sell the bones of your father and your mother. [Alvin M. Josephy, Jr., Chief Joseph’s People and Their War, Yellowstone Library and Museum Association, 1964, p. 2]

Chief Joseph kept his commitment to his father. He would not sign the treaties that other chiefs signed consigning their people to reservations. Finally, a commission of five men was sent to speak with Chief Joseph and to make a final settlement.

Why, they asked him, did he refuse to give up the Wallowa? He answered by referring to the land as the Mother of the Indians, something that could not be sold or given away. “We love the land,” he said, “It is our home.”

But, they persisted, Lawyer had signed it away in 1863.

Joseph had a ready reply that embarrassed them. “I believe the old treaty has never been correctly reported,” he said. “If we ever owned the land we own it still, for we never sold it. In the treaty councils the commissioners have claimed that our country has been sold to the government. Suppose a white man should come to me and say, ‘Joseph, I like your horses, and I want to buy them.’ Then he goes to my neighbor, and says to him, ‘Joseph has some good horses. I want to buy them but he refuses to sell.’ My neighbor answers, ‘Pay me the money, and I will sell you Joseph’s horses.’ The white man returns to me and says, ‘Joseph, I have bought your horses and you must let me have them.’ If we sold our lands to the government, this is the way they were bought.” [Josephy, Chief Joseph’s People, pp. 3–4]

It was determined later that Chief Joseph and his people would be placed on the reservation by force. General Howard was assigned to the task. The Nez Perce made one of the greatest retreats and attack strategies in all of open war. And mind you, they had every squaw and child and infant in addition to the warriors, and they retreated. They went into the Salmon River country, crossing and recrossing the river. (I don’t know if you have floated the middle fork of the Salmon or the main Salmon, but that would not be an easy task.) Oftentimes General Howard’s soldiers could not get across and were delayed, but somehow the Indians crossed. They battled the army of men and won at every turn. They made a march and forced journey from Oregon into Washington, over into Idaho and the Salmon River country, all the way across the 1,300 miles to Wyoming, and then into Montana. Finally, they camped near the Bear Paw Mountains, some 17 miles from the Canadian border where they felt that after they’d crossed the border, they would be safe. Troops were sent. A siege took place that lasted several days. Finally, Joseph mounted his horse and, followed by several men, rode up the hill from the camp and across to the army lines where Generals Howard and Miles waited for him. He dismounted, handed Miles his rifle, adjusted his blanket to leave his right arm free, and, addressing Miles, began one of the most touching and beautiful surrenders ever made:

Tell General Howard I know his heart. What he told me before I have in my heart. I am tired of fighting. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead. Toohoolhoolzote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is the young men who say yes or no. He who led the young men is dead. It is cold and we have no blankets. The little children are freezing to death. My people, some of them, have run away to the hills, and have no blankets, no food; no one knows where they are—perhaps freezing to death. I want to have time to look for my children and see how many I can find. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs. I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever. [Josephy, Chief Joseph’s People p. 19]

Recently in the small village of Ubon, Thailand, a member family by the name of Tan was beset with what seemed to be insurmountable problems. The father had lost his job, they had no money, the children were sick and malnourished. They were being forced to remove their humble home from the government land upon which it was built, and they had no place to go.
At this point a fine priesthood leader, who had been using welfare services missionaries as a resource, stepped in and averted what could otherwise have been a tragic situation. Under his guidance and with the assistance of all the branch members, a piece of land was obtained, and the Tan family home was dismantled, transported, and rebuilt. Brother Tan began farming the land and started a family produce business which is now flourishing. Some hard work, dedication, and love from local leaders and members, aided by the suggestions of welfare services missionaries, caused a miracle for one family and a great learning and growing experience for a whole branch.

About a week later Bishop Santos came to my office. He said, “President Featherstone, we have a request for 200,000 pesos from a branch president down on a distant island. A four-year-old boy has a brain tumor, and they don’t know what to do. They went to a charity hospital, and he was put on a one-year waiting list. They went to the Catholic Church, and they said they couldn’t help him. Then they remembered that two years before they had been baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They had only attended Church once—the Sunday they were baptized—and had never been back. But they were desperate, and they needed some help. Their branch president knows that we can’t grant their request, but he needs an answer for them. What do you think?”

I said, “Let me look at the request.” I read it, and then I said, “Bishop, if this was your son, we would do it, and if it was my son, we would do it. We’re going to help this little boy.” And I signed that request.

Bishop Santos, a wonderful Filipino, stood there with tears flowing down his cheeks and said, “President Featherstone, we belong to a wonderful and magnificent church.”

I said, “Yes, Bishop, we do. We belong to a wonderful and magnificent church.”

War clouds covered America. South Carolina threatened to secede from the republic. The crisis deeply troubled Joseph Smith. He said that on Christmas Day 1832 he “was praying earnestly on the subject.” In answer, a voice revealed to him a “Revelation on Prophecy and War” (D&C 87), which begins: “Verily, thus saith the Lord concerning the wars that will shortly come to pass, beginning at the rebellion of South Carolina, which will eventually terminate in the death and misery of many souls.” Warfare and bloodshed, it added, then would become common throughout the world.
The Prophet wrote the revelation down. He told Church members about it. But it was not printed. Saints wanting copies had to hand copy from Joseph’s copy. Orson Pratt, the energetic young missionary, obtained a handwritten copy, which he frequently pulled out and read to people during his travels. In February 1832 he started, on foot, on a 4,000-mile mission that would continue for several years, preaching in Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, New England, and Canada, during which he converted 104 people. Every year for the next five years he walked east and filled missions. Of those preaching days he later recalled:
“When I was a boy, I traveled extensively in the United States and the Canadas, preaching this restored Gospel. I had a manuscript copy of this revelation (on civil war), which I carried in my pocket, and I was in the habit of reading it to the people among whom I traveled and preached.”
How did his listeners respond? Did they say, “Well, it takes no prophet to see war will start in South Carolina”? No. Said Orson: “As a general thing the people regarded it as the height of nonsense, saying the Union was too strong to be broken; and I they said, was led away, the victim of an impostor.”
When South Carolina’s secession threats cooled down after 1832, did Orson begin to doubt the prophecy? No, because “I knew the prophecy was true, for the Lord had spoken to me and had given me revelation.” But year after year passed away without war, and now and then “some of the acquaintances I had formerly made would say, ‘Well, what is going to become of that prediction? It’s never going to be fulfilled.’” Orson replied, “Wait, the Lord has his set time.”
Perhaps doubters chided Joseph Smith too that the prophecy had “failed.” For just before his death the Prophet restated it:
“I prophesy, in the name of the Lord God, that the commencement of the difficulties which will cause much bloodshed previous to the coming of the Son of Man will be in South Carolina. It may probably arise through the slave question. This a voice declared to me while I was praying earnestly on the subject, December 25th, 1832.”
Then, more years of unfulfillment passed. But Elder Pratt, an Apostle since 1835, still felt such confidence in the prophecy that he helped arrange for its publication in England in 1851. This was the first time the prophecy appeared in print.
Orson had to wait only a decade more. In December 1860 South Carolina voted itself out of the United States. Other southern states soon did the same. On April 12, 1861, secessionists’ cannons opened fire on the United States’ fort, Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor, and South Carolina thereby started a bloody war that would last four years and claim 600,000 lives.
After the Civil War, Elder Pratt said, “This is another testimony that Joseph Smith was a Prophet of the Most High God.”
Interestingly, the printed prophecy had circulated far and wide. When war broke out in April 1861, 28 years after the prophecy was pronounced, the PhiladelphiaSunday Mercury newspaper carried a lengthy article entitled “A Mormon Prophecy.” “We have in our possession a pamphlet, published at Liverpool, in 1851, “the article began, referring to the civil war prophecy. “In view of our present troubles, this prediction seems to be in progress of fulfillment, whether Joe Smith was a humbug or not.” The article reprinted the entire prophecy, then noted how events were fulfilling it, and concluded regarding Joseph Smith: “Have we not had a prophet among us?”
As Fort Sumter surrendered, others, like the Mercury’s editors, remembered hearing about the prophecy. Perhaps some of those who once scoffed when youthful missionary Orson Pratt pulled the prophecy from his pocket and read it now had cause to wonder, to worry, and to wish they had listened more closely to what the rest of the prophecy said.

In 1991 war broke out again—this time in Sierra Leone—resulting in over a decade of famine and violence. “Rebels were killing civilians and the road to Freetown was blocked,” said Mohamed. There was not enough food to feed their children and Mohamed and Abie knew they needed the Lord’s help, so they knelt together in prayer. No sooner had they finished their prayer than a Church leader came to their door with a package containing enough money to provide a bag of rice to each family in the district. Their prayer was answered.

For my second example I turn to the release of a stake president in Star Valley, Wyoming—even the late E. Francis Winters. He had served faithfully for the lengthy term of twenty-three years. Though modest by nature and circumstance, he had been a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley. On the day of the stake conference, the building was filled to overflowing. Each heart seemed to be saying a silent thank-you to this noble leader who had given so unselfishly of his life for the benefit of others.
As I stood to speak following the reorganization of the stake presidency, I was prompted to do something I had not done before, nor have I done so since. I stated how long Francis Winters had presided in the stake; then I asked all whom he had blessed or confirmed as children to stand and remain standing. Then I asked all those persons whom President Winters had ordained, set apart, personally counseled, or blessed to please stand. The outcome was electrifying. Every person in the audience rose to his feet. Tears flowed freely—tears which communicated better than could words the gratitude of tender hearts. I turned to President and Sister Winters and said, “We are witnesses today of the prompting of the Spirit. This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.” No person who was in the congregation that day will forget how he felt when he witnessed the language of the Spirit of the Lord.

Just because we are commanded to get a good education does not mean we will not have obstacles and trials. Sometimes the adversary may try and get us off the right track and away from gaining a good education. Laura Anne Money from Elk Ridge, Utah, had an experience with this as she attempted to improve her education.
“I am often content to take the path of least resistance; occasionally I am unmotivated. This is evident by the college I am attending, and the easy classes I am taking. I feel unchallenged and uninspired. President Hinckley’s statement to Be smart made me realize it didn’t matter how intelligent I was. If I didn’t exercise my mind and actually do something with it, I would never reach my potential. I decided to apply to a much more challenging college. Chances were I would not be accepted, but that was a risk I was willing to take. The application process was a nightmare. Online, fax machines, forms, interviews, information; everything seemed to be going against me; nothing was going right! It seemed as if the adversary knew all my weaknesses (procrastination, forgetfulness, laziness, distractions) and threw them in my face all at once! I’d never felt such strong resistance to what I was trying to do.
“When I thought I’d just give up, I said a prayer asking if this is what I was supposed to do. I received two answers: Yes this is what I need to do, and it will work. The second was a realization that the adversary was so upset by my decision he was doing everything to stop me. After that prayer, everything fell into place. Being smart is more than just mind power, it is an action word, an act of will. I realized that by following one of President Hinckley’s B’s, the adversary would be defeated. Just think what would happen if I followed all of them!”

Lately our family had been praying to strengthen the family bond. The answer to our prayer really came in a shocking way. Can you imagine this? Three teenagers and a nine-year-old down with the chicken pox the last week of summer vacation. We had to live together 24 hours a day in the same house for a week and a half straight. That was a trial! We all learned to get along. Each day we compared our skin to see whose was worse. My oldest brother won. We made this awful experience fun. We talked about walking down the beach looking like this in our swimsuits and other crazy ideas that made the situation seem funny. Unfortunately it did not ease the itch. We decided to be more specific when we prayed. We are all involved with each others’ lives and feelings. We are now closer than ever.

Do we really believe that people can change? I believe they can. Intellectually I have known this for years, but I didn’t gain a strong testimony of the principle until I served as a bishop. In this ecclesiastical role I had the opportunity to counsel with a man who was struggling with pornography and had been for many years. I also counseled with his wife about the emotions she was experiencing at this challenging time. Because he had hidden his addiction from her for so long, she didn’t know if he could ever overcome this struggle. She didn’t know if she could ever trust him again.

As we visited one evening, the following thought came clearly to my mind: “If you truly believe in the Atonement of Jesus Christ, you have to believe that people can change. If you don’t believe a person can change, then you don’t believe in the Atonement.” In that moment I was taught by the Holy Ghost for the benefit of this sister. Simultaneously, my testimony of the Atonement’s power to change people also increased.

Some years back, one of my daughters experienced a setback in her life that had her seeking guidance. She and a wonderful young man had decided after dating for some time that they would part ways. It wasn't easy for her. She worried, at the ripe old age of 25, that she had missed the most important time in her life to get married and that another young man would never come along. She wondered if she was living in the right place, attending the right ward, and working in the right company to meet the man that would eventually take her to the temple of God.

She was living in Manhattan, and at that time, we lived in Connecticut. She asked me if she could come out to our home and receive a father's blessing. I jumped at the chance to do it. Her blessing turned out to be quite interesting and taught me some things. While giving her the blessing, the words of a hymn came to my mind as I counsel to her. I quote, "Lead kindly light amid the encircling gloom. Lead thou me on! The night is dark and I am far from home. Lead thou me on! Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene - one step enough for me."

What interesting counsel, what important advice! I do not ask to see the distant scene; I don't have to know the end from the beginning; but I only need the light, the Holy Ghost, to guide me step by step. As I move forward in faith, the light will move with me, just enough to illuminate my path, and from there, I can see to take just one more step forward, all the time exercising my faith and paying close attention to the light that I have.

Within a few days, my daughter called me on the phone very excited, “Dad, I have decided that I need to move to Austin, Texas.” "Good heavens," I said, "that was quite a step!" We had no relatives there and few friends. I recall saying to her on the phone, "I am not even sure that I know where Texas is!"

To make a long story short, within a few weeks, she had found a job in Austin. A few weeks after that, we moved her and a few of her belongings, into a small apartment. In time, she met friends in her ward. With the passage of a little more time, she met just the right man who likewise had serendipitously ended up in Austin. They are now the proud parents of the three of the eleven cutest and most intelligent grandkids on the planet! All as a result of exercising a little faith in the guidance she received.

As a young man, I stood at the fence of an international airport and watched those magnificent flying machines.1 The take-offs and landings were a miraculous sight. One that stirred my soul! How I wanted to be in the cockpit of one of those impressive airplanes and feel the thrill of rising up from the ground, climbing above the clouds, and traveling unto new horizons.

But was that dream possible? I was not born into wealth. My family had twice been refugees, taking only what we could carry. I was considered by some to be an outsider. While other children played with their friends, I had to spend my afternoons and weekends working in our family laundry business, often as a delivery boy.

I say this because some of you might also be wondering if your dreams will ever become reality. I understand what you are feeling. If I could go back in time and talk to that young boy who stood on the other side of the fence yearning for a better future, I would say:
“It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it. You will be all right. The journey will be filled with challenges, Dieter. But the struggle itself will transform you into the person you want to be. Work hard. Be consistent. Focus on the things you can change, not so much on the things you cannot change. Have faith. Have hope. Trust in God. Know that if you do your part, things will work out.”
This is also my advice to you today.

“The gospel is a special gift,” Brother Hart told Addie’s Primary class. “One way we can share it is by giving a Book of Mormon to a friend.”
Addie squirmed in her seat. She didn’t know if she could be brave enough to give someone a Book of Mormon. Then she thought of Lane. If it’s just like giving a gift, she thought, then maybe I could give one to Lane.
Lane had moved to Addie’s fourth-grade class halfway through the year. She was quiet just like Addie was. And when Mrs. Naga gave Lane the desk next to Addie, they had both smiled shyly at each other. Soon they were laughing and talking and playing together at recess.
Lane loved books, and Addie decided that, just maybe, she would love the Book of Mormon too.
When Addie got home from church, she asked Mom for a copy of the Book of Mormon. Mom gave her one with a soft cover and beautiful paintings of scripture stories inside. Addie hoped Lane would like it.
Addie carefully wrote her testimony on the first blank page. “Dear Lane, I hope you like this book. It is one of my favorite books. It has lots of good stories, and I know it’s true. Thanks for being my friend.”
She signed her name and carefully slipped the book into her backpack. Her stomach felt all fluttery inside. Would Lane be happy to get it?
At school the next day, Addie could hardly sit still. She was so nervous. What would she say? What would Lane say?
Finally it was recess. Addie stopped Lane before they walked out to the playground.
“I have something for you,” Addie said. She reached into her bag and pulled out the Book of Mormon. “I hope you like it.”
Lane smoothed her fingers over the shiny gold letters on the cover. She smiled. “Thank you.” She put it in her backpack, and then she and Addie ran outside.
Addie could hardly stop smiling. She’d done it! She’d shared the gospel, just like a missionary.
But the next day, it was Lane who stopped Addie before they went out to recess. She quietly pulled out the Book of Mormon from her backpack and handed it to Addie.
“My mom doesn’t want me to read it,” she said. She stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Addie felt her cheeks heat up. “Oh,” was all she could say as she slipped the book back in her own bag. They went out to play hopscotch, but Addie didn’t feel much like hopping. Maybe tomorrow would be better.
When school was over, Addie waved goodbye to Lane. Then she ran home and hurried to her room. The door shut behind her with a dull thud. Addie pulled the book out of her backpack. She’d been so brave, and it hadn’t worked out!
She wiped away tears as she opened up the Book of Mormon to her testimony. She had been so excited when she’d written it. She still knew what she’d written was true, but now she felt sad instead of excited. Lane was one of her best friends. Was there any other way she could share the gift of the gospel with her?
Addie turned around as the door opened.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” __________________ asked.
Write your name in the blank and pretend you’re Addie’s big brother or sister who just walked in. What would you say to her when she told you what happened? How could you help Addie feel better? What other ways could she still share the gospel? Write and tell us!
There are lots of ways to share the gift of the gospel! Like being kind or being a good example.

Soon after our daughter’s birth, my husband’s job prevented him from attending church most Sundays. With a new baby, five young sons, and my husband no longer available to help me, I was having a difficult time getting to church.
Many Sundays we arrived late, and sometimes we didn’t get there until sacrament meeting was over and Primary and Sunday School had begun. I spent most of my time walking the halls with my fussy and tired baby.
After several weeks, I was exhausted. We were going to church more out of habit than for anything else. I began to ask myself, Why even bother? It seemed that the only results I was getting were stiff muscles and a headache.
I began to pray for guidance. I asked my Father in Heaven why I should go to church when it was so difficult. I knew attending church was right, but I needed to know why it was important for me personally. When I didn’t receive an answer right away, I continued to ask.
When Easter Sunday came, I again spent the time during church walking the halls of our meetinghouse with my baby and whispering a prayer in my heart: Why should I bother to come? Why is it important for me to continue this struggle?
During Primary class time, I walked past the classrooms and looked inside. Every Primary class was having a lesson about the Savior’s death and Resurrection. I was amazed at the reverence and awe I saw in the children’s faces. Every one of them, mine included, was caught up in the story of our Savior’s greatest gift to us.
Suddenly it was clear why I needed to continue in my struggle to bring my children to church. Maybe I wasn’t getting as much as I wanted from my attendance, but my children were benefiting from their attendance more than I had imagined.
Occasionally we still have a difficult time getting to church. But when we do, I stop and remember the expressions I saw on my children’s faces that Easter morning. I know church is where we belong, and I often thank the Lord for showing me why.

A final experience illustrates the importance of trusting in God and placing our lives in His hands. In early 1944, my father John Taylor Meha was home on final leave with seven other Latter-day Saint servicemen from the armed forces. A district conference, or hui pariha, was held at Karongata in Hawkes Bay, New Zealand. Mission President Matthew Cowley presided and invited the eight young men to join the speakers on the podium. To each one he pronounced a priesthood blessing for the preservation of their lives while on active service, conditional upon their obedience to living the standards of the Church.

The conference ended and father returned to his quarters in Nausori, Fiji. Within ten days, his aircrew of four members, piloted by Flight Lieutenant Wilbur Lange was posted to No.4 General Reconnaissance squadron, engaging in dawn and dusk anti-submarine patrols around Fiji. One Sunday evening, the NCO's were reading mail from their families just delivered that day, when an announcement was made by 2nd Pilot Cox that all airmen should attend a special meeting outside the officer's mess in ten minutes.

All available seats were taken so the men from Lange's aircrew stood at the back of the assembled. Squadron leader McSkimming explained that a fatal accident had occurred at Ohakea air station in New Zealand. No. 1 Bomber Squadron would soon leave New Zealand for action against Japanese forces in the Pacific. The Squadron leader called for a new aircrew to replace the lost aircrew and aircraft but not one officer volunteered. With no response, he promptly assigned Warrant Officer Iverson to leave the next day for Guadalcanal and wait for No. 1 Bomber Squadron to arrive. As there were no enemy aircraft operating in and around Fiji, the squadron my father flew with only needed an air gunner. "Do I have a volunteer?" asked McSkimming.

Father called out at the top of his voice, "I'll go!" He was elbowed by men on both sides and accused of being demented, "You're mad! The Japanese have Zero's there."

The next day, my father flew with Iverson's crew to wait for No.1 Bomber Squadron. Operating from Nissan Island against the five airfields protecting Rabaul, his new aircrew learned that No. 4 General Reconnaissance squadron left Fiji eight days after their departure for Guadalcanal. The squadron had returned to Auckland to replace the Lockheed Hudson aircraft with Lockheed Ventura aircraft. After passing the critical half way point, Flight Lieutenant Knoblock, upon seeing that they were approaching a tropical storm gave the order to the squadron, "Break formation and climb."

Two of the aircraft in No. 4 General Reconnaissance squadron failed to reach Whenuapai, Auckland: the aircraft and crew of Flying Officer Max Faulkner and Flight-Lieutenant Wilbur Lange. My father was an original member of Lange's aircrew, but by volunteering as a gunner on the plane flown by Warrant Officer Iverson his life was spared.

When I asked why he volunteered for a different assignment, my father simply stated that the Spirit had prompted him to throw up his hand. That his life was spared and he returned home after serving overseas for almost six years is evidence to me that with God nothing is impossible. He had honored his commitment to be obedient and God had kept his promise.

It felt like just a regular morning as I walked to school. But this seemingly unremarkable day in my 13-year-old life turned into something quite different once I got there.
“Did you hear the news?” my friend asked.
“No,” I replied. “What’s going on?”
When we walked into our first class, the teacher had a TV on. That’s when I saw news about the terrible events of the morning of September 11, 2001, in the United States. Hijacked airplanes had been flown into the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon near Washington, D.C. Another plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Thousands were killed or injured. It was a frightening and tragic day.
At this time, my dad was a fighter pilot aboard an aircraft carrier on a routine six-month deployment for the United States Navy. In the days that followed, I continued to see news about the attacks. I also heard classmates express fear and anger. All this made me anxious about the future and what might happen to my dad.
Hal Murdock, Captain, United States Navy, in the cockpit of an F/A-18F Super Hornet at Naval Air Station in 2008.
General conference was held three weeks later. As I listened, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), said that we lived in perilous times, but “the God in whom I believe … is a God of mercy. He is a God of love. He is a God of peace and reassurance, and I look to Him in times such as this as a comfort and a source of strength.”1
In the last session, President Hinckley closed his address with a prayer. He prayed for blessings of faith, love, charity, and “a spirit of perseverance to root out the terrible evils that are in this world.” He prayed that God would give “protection and guidance to those who are engaged actively in carrying forth the things of battle. Bless them; preserve their lives; save them from harm and evil. Hear the prayers of their loved ones for their safety.” He also prayed for God to “spare us and help us to walk with faith ever in Thee and ever in Thy Beloved Son.”2
President Gordon B. Hinckley offering a prayer during the October 2001 general conference.
I had often heard the prophet say that he prays for many things, but this was a unique experience. I had never heard the prophet say an actual prayer in general conference. Hearing the prophet pray brought me comfort I had not felt in weeks. He prayed about my concerns. I felt that he had prayed for my family. While his prayer was for the world, I was amazed that a prophet’s prayer could also be for me.
Several months later, our family received a letter from my dad. He wrote that on the day of President Hinckley’s prayer, he and everyone aboard the aircraft carrier had begun a mission to stop further attacks from those who had attacked America.
“As I have reflected on the prayer offered by the prophet,” my dad wrote, “I have realized several remarkable things. We suffered no injuries or losses during the entire operation. At times, my fellow pilots and I found ourselves many miles away from the carrier, flying over hostile territory on 12-hour missions. When we would return to the aircraft carrier to land our fighter jets at night, the seas and weather remained calm long past the time the weather normally turns poor in that part of the world. To bring everyone home is a miraculous blessing. I know from personal experience that the prayer offered by the prophet in our behalf was answered.”
When I read my dad’s witness of an answer to the prophet’s prayer, the Spirit filled my heart and these words came to my mind: “Look to the prophet, and you will be OK.”
Commander Murdock and his family the day he safely returned home from deployment.

Jack had been battling strong currents in that river for a long time. He began one major battle clear back in the third grade. Although it was obvious that he was a bright child, he couldn’t keep up with the other kids in school. “I was diagnosed as having dyslexia,” Jack explained. “That’s a reading disability where your letters sometimes appear to be jumbled up a bit. Sometimes Ds look like Ps and stuff like that. You can still read; it just takes a bit longer.”

It took Jack a lot longer. He was placed in special classes and got a lot of help from specially trained teachers, but he never quite caught up. “The gap between me and the other kids just kept getting wider and wider,” he said. “At times, when the teacher would call on me to read out loud to a class of about 30 kids, it was embarrassing when I couldn’t even sound out the word the.”

But if Jack had trouble reading, there was one thing he excelled in, and that was work. Hard work. At 14 he got a job in a print shop, sweeping and doing various other cleanup chores. After that, choosing to work diligently became easy.

Work provided the reinforcement Jack wasn’t getting in the classroom. “I was behind all my friends at school, but I was doing really well at work, and I started learning about business,” he said. He decided to try his hand at entrepreneurship. With a little training and a lot of inspiration from a concerned teacher at his high school, Jack started a vending business.

“My main thing is gumball machines,” he explains. “I have about 100 in stores—mom-and-pop type stores, where I had to get permission from the owners to put them in. I also have a few pop machines, but I like gumball machines better. It just comes down to how much time you spend on getting new locations as to how much money you make.”

And Jack did make money. Lots of it. He met his material goals of buying his own sports car and just about anything else he wanted. He joined a special school/work program, where he could incorporate his business with his studies. Before he knew it, he had graduated from high school and was out on his own. “I should be happy now,” he thought. But he wasn’t.

“There had to be more. All I had faith in was money, and that had nothing to do with happiness at all,” he said. That realization started his search for the truth. He thought it might be a good idea to thank Heavenly Father for all the blessings he’d been given, so he went to pray in the only nearby church he knew of—San Juan Capistrano, the famous Catholic Mission, built centuries ago. It seemed logical that the Lord would hear his prayers from such a place.

The Lord did. In response, he sent a messenger to Jack’s door. But it wasn’t the type in a suit, white shirt, and tie. It was Randy Smith, an insulation salesman and a recent convert with a lot of enthusiasm. He started talking to Jack about insulation, and somehow the subject got around to the gospel. It didn’t take Randy long to invite Jack out to the missionary prep class that his brother Tom taught.

“But I didn’t join right off,” Jack said. “I kind of sat back and doubted for a while, but I wish I hadn’t.” His Las Vegas excursion helped him appreciate the truths they were teaching him. “I looked around at the people there and thought ‘Lots of these people have money, but they’re still looking for something to make them happy,’” Jack said. Maybe he really could find what he was looking for in the Church.

He’d previously been attending Sunday School with a lackadaisical attitude, but now he decided to take the gospel seriously and learn some more. He began the missionary lessons and discovered that it would take the gospel to make him happy—happier than banking billions from bubble gum ever could. “Once the missionaries started teaching me, it only took about a month and a half before I was baptized,” he said.

Jack’s choices didn’t end when he joined the Church, though. Other decisions were in store. “I decided to go on a mission right after I decided to get serious about the gospel,” Jack said. “I thought, if it’s true, it’s all true, and of course you want to tell other people about it. It would be wrong not to go.”

But what about his business, and what about his car? “I sold the Corvette,” Jack says, with a surprising lack of remorse. “The insurance was costing me a fortune anyway.” The bubble gum business is still booming, however. His mother will manage it while he’s in the mission field, and the profits will help keep him afloat financially.

Jack feels he is well prepared for the mission field, but when his call came, he was stunned. He will be serving in the Japan Nagoya Mission. He was surprised that with his reading disability, he would be called to learn such a difficult language as Japanese.

“I was confident I would go to an English-speaking mission,” he said. “When I went to take the language aptitude test, I asked the girl who administered it which were the hardest languages, and she said both Chinese and Japanese were challenging. I thought, good—at least I won’t have to worry about them. Then when I got my mission call, I was surprised.”

But Jack doesn’t worry about the battle with the language. “When you’re doing the work of the Lord, he’s going to help you out. When I first got a Book of Mormon, I found it really hard to read, but since I started reading the scriptures, my reading has improved, and it’s the first time I can really see that improvement.”

Jack pulls out the scriptures, and reads, out loud, his favorite: Alma 32:28. It talks about the faith he needs to serve, and the faith the people need to receive his message: “Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.”

As Jack reads that scripture, you notice that he reads clearly and precisely; he doesn’t stumble over a word.

Hey Jack—did you know you just read that scripture perfectly?

“I did? Wow, well thank you. I guess I’m getting a lot of help.”

The same Spirit that helped Jack choose to head home from Las Vegas is still helping him now. And it will continue to help him as he teaches the Japanese.

Editor’s note: Since this story was written, Elder Farley has completed training in the MTC. He is now serving in the Japan Nagoya Mission.

It is important for each deacon to be guided to a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling. In one ward the lesson was effectively taught pertaining to the collection of fast offerings.
On fast day the ward members were visited by deacons and teachers so that each family could make a contribution. The deacons were a bit disgruntled, having to arise earlier than usual to fulfill this assignment.
The inspiration came for the bishopric to take a busload of the deacons and teachers to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City. Here they saw needy children receiving new shoes and other items of clothing. Here they witnessed empty baskets being filled with groceries. There was no money exchanged. One brief comment was made: “Young men, this is what the money you collect on fast day provides—even food, clothing, and shelter for those who are in need.” The Aaronic Priesthood young men smiled more, stepped higher, and served more willingly in filling their assignments.