Gospel Story Finder

My mother makes the best homemade bread in the whole world. One afternoon our neighbor sat in our kitchen and declared that she would pay ten dollars just for a slice of Mom’s yummy bread. Mom just laughed, but I could tell that she was flattered. That night, while we were doing the dishes, she seemed really concerned about something. Since Dad had been in the hospital, I’d noticed that she’d been worried not just about Dad but about “making ends meet,” as she put it.
Finally I asked, “Mom, what are you thinking about?”
She smiled, hesitated, then said, “Jenney, I couldn’t help thinking about what Mrs. Clark said. Do you think my bread is that good?”
“Sure, Mom, all the kids in the neighborhood love your bread and rolls—especially your cinnamon rolls.”
Well, that’s how I got the job of delivering bread and rolls for my mom. She got a permit from the city and began a bakery in our kitchen to earn some money. Every day after school I delivered her bread and rolls all over town. I got paid for doing it, and that was great, but sometimes I got tired of it and wished I hadn’t praised her bread so much. After a few weeks, I started playing or watching TV and leaving a little later each day. That was until after one day last week.
“Jenney, honey, please hurry. This order is for Brother and Sister Dean, and they live kind of far away. Turn off the TV and get your coat and mittens on.”
“OK, Mom,” I said reluctantly and got ready to go.
At the door, Mom stood looking at the sky. “Hurry, Jenney. Please don’t dawdle. It looks like another storm is brewing.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be all right.” I waved good-bye and started down the street. The air was very still and quiet. It wasn’t very cold, either. I walked along for a while, and then snowflakes started dancing around me. Suddenly it got very dark. At first I loved it. The snowflakes got bigger and bigger. They were beautiful as they came straight down, as though they were in a hurry to get to the ground. Like I should be about getting this bread delivered, I thought.
The Deans lived on a dairy farm. I decided to leave the road and take a shortcut through the fields to their house. The snowflakes started swirling around. They were huge by now and seemed to move up and away from me and then back toward me again. I laughed and started to dance with them—around and around, curtsy left, swing right.
When I stopped to catch my breath, I noticed that my feet felt really cold. I looked around me. All I could see was the black night and white swirling snow. The wind picked up, and the snow was no longer gentle and friendly. It started whipping at my hat and coat. My face and nose were numb and cold. I decided to walk fast—only I didn’t know which way to walk! I strained my eyes looking into the night. I couldn’t decide which way to go. Suddenly I felt panicky. I stood very still in that spot and cried for a while, then wandered around till I seemed to hear a gentle voice say, “Pray, Jenney. Stop here and pray.”
I stopped walking and knelt in the snow. I sobbed as I prayed to Heavenly Father for help. After a few moments I felt a sweet calm come over me, and someone seemed to say, “Jenney, look up.”
I looked up, and through the darkness I saw a light flicker on. I couldn’t tell whose light it was, but there it was, shining through the dark, snowy night. I got up quickly and headed for the light. In just a few minutes I could dimly make out Brother Dean’s farm buildings. I stumbled gratefully to the barn door and called, “Brother Dean, are you there?”
Out he came, swinging his lantern. “Why, Jenney, child, what are you doing out here on a night like this?”
I held out the bread and started to sob. He didn’t say a word but put his arm around me and steered me toward the house. While he called my mom, Sister Dean had me put on some dry clothes, then brought me some hot chocolate and warm cookies. Sitting by their nice fire, I told them about how I had been lost and scared. I told them about how I had prayed and then seen the barn light. Mr. Dean smiled and slowly nodded his head, as though he already knew my story.
“Jenney,” he said, “I had finished my chores and had my dinner. I had even put on my slippers and curled up by the fire with my newspaper. I’d no sooner started reading than I had the thought to go to the barn. I brushed it off. I’d come in from the barn not a half hour before, and my cows were OK. Well, I tried to start reading again, but the thought just wouldn’t go away. So I got my tired bones up, lighted my lantern, and went to the barn. It was the strangest thing, because everything seemed to be just fine. So I said to myself, Dean, you’re getting old. Maybe you ought to sell this place and just sit in your rocking chair. Just as I was fixing to come back in, there you were, at the door, as scared as a treed cat and dripping wet. Yep, I’m sure glad I listened to that voice.” He smiled at me, adding, “Jenney, do you know whose voice it was that told me to come to the barn?”
“Yes, Brother Dean.”
I couldn’t explain where the voice came from, but I knew whose it was. My parents and my Primary teachers had taught me about the Holy Ghost. And tonight I knew that Heavenly Father had turned that light on just for me.

I know a very faithful young deacon who transformed himself into a modern Captain Moroni. Inasmuch as he has sought to follow the counsel of his parents and Church leaders, his faith and determination have been tested every day, even at his young age. He told me one day he was surprised by a very difficult and uncomfortable situation—his friends were accessing pornographic images on their cell phones. In that exact moment, this young man had to decide what was most important—his popularity or his righteousness. In the few seconds that followed, he was filled with courage and told his friends that what they were doing was not right. Moreover, he told them that they should stop what they were doing or they would become slaves to it. Most of his classmates ridiculed his counsel, saying that it was a part of life and that there was nothing wrong with it. However, there was one among them who listened to the counsel of that young man and decided to stop what he was doing.

This deacon’s example had a positive influence on at least one of his classmates. Undoubtedly, he and his friend faced mockery and persecution because of that decision. On the other hand, they had followed the admonition of Alma to his people when he said, “Come ye out from the wicked, and be ye separate, and touch not their unclean things.”6

One Sunday after church, my mother, my brothers, and I were in the car ready to go home. But we could not find the car key. Our dad had put all our bags in the car and walked home with my younger sister in the stroller. We looked everywhere for the key, but we could not find it. In Primary and family home evening, I have learned that we should always pray when we need help. I told my mom that we should pray so Heavenly Father could help us. My mom was very happy, and we prayed together. Suddenly our grandmother drove up and brought us the key. Our dad had accidentally taken the key and sent it back with our grandmother. I know that Heavenly Father helped us by sending our grandmother. He will always help us, even through other people.

Hannah (name has been changed) experienced sexual abuse early in her childhood. Like other victims, she grew up feeling like she was a terrible person who had no worth. She spent most of her life trying to serve others enough to make up for her feelings of not being “good enough” for Heavenly Father or anyone else to love. In her relationships, she feared that if anyone truly knew her, they would think she was as awful as she believed she was. She experienced an intense fear of rejection that led to being afraid of trying new things in life or doing simple tasks like calling someone on the phone. She was blessed with a talent for artwork but gave up on it for fear of not being able to handle criticism.
For over 50 years her feelings of helplessness, powerlessness, fear, anger, confusion, shame, loneliness, and isolation guided her daily decisions.
For Hannah, her life had become so uncomfortable that she sought help. She knew from her testimony that she could feel peace and contentment in life but did not feel them on a consistent basis. Through prayer and talking with her bishop, she was guided to counseling, where she was able to gain the tools she needed to bring the truth out of darkness and share the awful burden she had been carrying alone. In doing so, she was able to release the pain and find the peace promised by the Savior (see John 14:27). Along with this peace and comfort came the desire and ability to forgive.
Hannah eventually found that she could turn the need for justice over to the Savior and in return find a feeling of peace in her life as she had never before experienced. Previously, she had feared attending family gatherings where the abuser would be present. Now, due to her willingness to face difficult emotional wounds on her way to healing, she no longer fears being in his presence and can even have compassion for him in his old age.

I believe in sustaining our living prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, by listening to and following his counsel.
In general conference last fall, I listened to President Hinckley tell of the emigration of thousands of European Saints who faced their trials “with optimism and enthusiasm” (Ensign, Nov. 1995, 72). He counseled us to do the same.
It was hard advice to hear. At the time I was unhappy, frustrated, and busy feeling sorry for myself.
For months over the summer, I trained to become a member of the varsity volleyball team. I ran, lifted weights, did endless drills. I put in my time. The work paid off. I made the team. My dream was coming true, or so I expected.
Then the dream started to tarnish. Others played better than I did. Much of the time, I warmed the bench, cheering my teammates, yearning to play more, trying to deal with the disappointment.
Life wasn’t being fair. My attitude affected my relationship with the other girls on the team. And it affected how I felt about myself.
Why would Heavenly Father let me work so hard and come so far to end up so disappointed? Finally, after wrestling with my choices and praying for direction, I decided to leave the team. I needed to get back to my studies and my life away from volleyball.
But I couldn’t seem to let go of my disappointment and resentment. Then general conference came. It is a time of year I love because the Spirit is abundant in our home. Conference can be heard in every room.
President Hinckley’s address offered the counsel I needed to put things into perspective. By having an “overpowering spirit of optimism” and enthusiasm (Ensign, Nov. 1995, 72), I could decide to let go of my volleyball experience. I could decide to be positive and optimistic about the many good things in my life: my friendships, my studies, my family. I could play volleyball for fun rather than competition. Suddenly the dilemma that had seemed so overwhelming began to fade. I started to feel better about myself. I read the scriptures more. I prayed more. I liked other people more. I felt the Spirit reenter my life.
I am grateful for a living prophet who taught me to let go of feeling sorry for myself. He quoted Alma 26:35, which teaches us there never was a people “that had so great reason to rejoice as we, since the world began.” I realize now that I have so much to be grateful for, so many reasons to rejoice. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My new friend Paul testifies of this truth. Paul grew up in a home that was sometimes abusive and always intolerant of religion. While attending school on a military base in Germany, he noticed two sisters who seemed to have a spiritual light. Asking why they were different brought the answer that they belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Soon Paul began meeting with missionaries and was invited to church. The next Sunday, as he got off the bus, he noticed two men dressed in white shirts and ties. He asked them if they were elders of the Church. They answered yes, so Paul followed them.
During the service, a preacher pointed to people in the congregation and invited them to testify. At the end of each testimony, a drummer gave a drum salute and the congregation called out, “Amen.”
When the preacher pointed to Paul, he stood up and said, “I know Joseph Smith was a prophet and the Book of Mormon is true.” There was no drum salute or amens. Paul eventually realized he had gone to the wrong church. Soon, Paul found his way to the right place and was baptized.
On the day of Paul’s baptism, a member he didn’t know told him, “You saved my life.” A few weeks earlier, this man had decided to look for another church and attended a service with drums and amens. When the man heard Paul bear his testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, he realized that God knew him, recognized his struggles, and had a plan for him. For both Paul and the man, “it fell on a day,” indeed!

The story of Helen Keller is something of a parable suggesting how divine love can transform a willing soul. Helen was born in the state of Alabama in the United States in 1880. When just 19 months old, she suffered an undiagnosed illness that left her both deaf and blind. She was extremely intelligent and became frustrated as she tried to understand and make sense of her surroundings. When Helen felt the moving lips of family members and realized that they used their mouths to speak, “she flew into a rage [because] she was unable to join in the conversation.” By the time Helen was six, her need to communicate and her frustration grew so intense that her “outbursts occurred daily, sometimes hourly.”

Helen’s parents hired a teacher for their daughter, a woman named Anne Sullivan. Just as we have in Jesus Christ one who understands our infirmities, Anne Sullivan had struggled with her own serious hardships and understood Helen’s infirmities. At age five, Anne had contracted a disease that caused painful scarring of the cornea and left her mostly blind. When Anne was eight, her mother died; her father abandoned her and her younger brother, Jimmie; and they were sent to a “poor house,” where conditions were so deplorable that Jimmie died after only three months. Through her own dogged persistence, Anne gained entry to the Perkins School for the Blind and vision impaired, where she succeeded brilliantly. A surgical operation gave her improved vision so that she was able to read print. When Helen Keller’s father contacted the Perkins School seeking someone to become a teacher for his daughter, Anne Sullivan was selected.

It was not a pleasant experience at the beginning. Helen “hit, pinched and kicked her teacher and knocked out one of her teeth. [Anne] finally gained control by moving with [Helen] into a small cottage on the Kellers’ property. Through patience and firm consistency, she finally won the child’s heart and trust.” Similarly, as we come to trust rather than resist our divine Teacher, He can work with us to enlighten and lift us to a new reality.

To help Helen learn words, Anne would spell the names of familiar objects with her finger on the palm of Helen’s hand. “[Helen] enjoyed this ‘finger play,’ but she didn’t understand until the famous moment when [Anne] spelled ‘w-a-t-e-r’ while pumping water over [Helen’s] hand. [Helen] later wrote:
“‘Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten … and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that “w-a-t-e-r” meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! … Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house[,] every object … I touched seemed to quiver with life.’”

As Helen Keller grew to adulthood, she became known for her love of language, her skill as a writer, and her eloquence as a public speaker.

In a movie depicting the life of Helen Keller, her parents are portrayed as satisfied with Anne Sullivan’s work once she has domesticated their wild daughter to the extent that Helen will sit politely at dinner, eat normally, and fold her napkin at the end of the meal. But Anne knew Helen was capable of much, much more and that she had significant contributions to make. Even so, we may be quite content with what we have done in our lives and that we simply are what we are, while our Savior comprehends a glorious potential that we perceive only “through a glass, darkly.” Each of us can experience the ecstasy of divine potential unfolding within us, much like the joy Helen Keller felt when words came to life, giving light to her soul and setting it free. Each of us can love and serve God and be empowered to bless our fellowman. “As it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”

When I was serving as president of the Philippines Quezon City Mission, one day Elder Jones* arrived at the mission home wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes and carrying his suitcases. “I want to go home, President,” he told me.

After listening to his concerns, I told him: “Leaving your mission is a reactive response, which will diminish the control you have over your life. And if you continue to be reactive, you will have problems dealing with difficulties you encounter after you return home.” I also advised him to talk with other missionaries about his concerns.

After further discussion Elder Jones changed into his missionary clothing and returned to his area. He talked with other missionaries, and he prayed for strength to overcome his challenges. The next time I met with him, he expressed gratitude that he had persisted through his difficulties.

The youth were happy to meet other Church members who shared the challenge of being only one among hundreds of people of other faiths in their schools and communities. They also found other things they had in common.
Ioana Ene, 14, of the Victoria Branch, and Amalia Epure, 15, of the Arad Branch, had never met before the conference but became friends almost instantly. Amalia investigated the Church for two years. She wanted very much to be baptized, but initially her parents would not give her permission. Now that she is a member, there are still challenges having a nonmember family. Ioana’s cheerful spirit and kindness helped Amalia to see another side to things. Ioana’s siblings are all members of the Church. The two girls spent a lot of their free time at the conference roaming the woods and talking about their families. They came to the conclusion that all families face challenges, whether they are Latter-day Saints or not.

It was 3:00 P.M. on 30 May 1996 when my friend Lorna and I began our journey to Cebu—an island in the Philippines. President Gordon B. Hinckley would be speaking at a fireside there the next evening. A tricycle—a motorcycle with an attached sidecar—took us to the port where we and many other members of the Iloilo Philippines Stake would board a vessel bound for Cebu. My friend and I both knew that seeing the prophet would be worth any difficulties we might encounter on our trip.
As we reached the port, heavy rains began to fall. Would a typhoon spoil our voyage and ruin our opportunity to see the prophet? “First trial,” Lorna whispered to me. But later that day we forgot the cloudy skies. The other members’ excitement was contagious, and it seemed almost unbelievable that we would soon hear the mouthpiece of the Lord.
But our journey was not without inconvenience. Lorna and I were dismayed to discover there was no water for bathing aboard the ship. “Second trial,” I thought. Later we received more bad news: Because of the crowded conditions, our luggage would have to be left piled in the hall. Still, we remained positive.
After our boat came into dock the next day, we got in line to board one of the buses that was to take us to the coliseum where President Hinckley would speak. We watched in disbelief as we saw that the last bus was completely full. Lorna looked at me with a look that said, “Another trial?” But we did not give up. We hailed a taxi and were soon on our way.
By the time we arrived at the coliseum, its entrance was overflowing with people. “Will we ever get in?” I wondered. Discouragement set in. “Maybe we should just go back to the ship and wait for the others,” Lorna suggested.
Despite my doubts, I answered her in a determined voice: “Unless we get in now, we may never see the prophet.” With that, we moved resolutely through the crowd. The air in the large hall was so hot and oppressive I felt I would choke. But finally we found two seats together in the upper box of the coliseum, and we sat down to wait in the terrible heat.
Then at last I saw President and Sister Hinckley walking into the hall with Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife, Elisa. Suddenly, my worries and frustrations—even my awareness of the heat—vanished. The entire congregation stood and began to sing, “We thank thee, O God, for a prophet to guide us in these latter days” (Hymns, number 19). Tears rolled down my cheeks. Until this moment I had only read the prophet’s words in Church magazines and books. Now I was seeing him with my own eyes.
As I looked around I could tell that everyone was touched by the same spirit. All around me, men and women were wiping tear-filled eyes.
As I heard President Hinckley speak, a warm assurance touched my whole being that he is indeed the Lord’s prophet today. A scripture came into my mind: “What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken, and I excuse not myself; and though the heavens and the earth pass away, my word shall not pass away, but shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same” (D&C 1:38).
At that moment my testimony of the Church, of the Lord Jesus Christ, and of His prophet was strengthened by the Spirit. I am grateful I was given the chance to see the Lord’s prophet and to feel the power of his testimony. Indeed, it was the greatest opportunity and the most priceless experience of my life.

A similar feeling to the one I experienced is described by Elfriede Pawlowski in the book Behind the Iron Curtain. She had been struggling with “an evil power” that seemed to try to prevent her from accepting the gospel. Then one day in branch meeting, this dark power tried to overcome her again. She later wrote:
I prayed fervently that the Lord would free me from this power so I could understand the gospel. . . . Then something happened that I will never forget. A new skin almost seemed to be drawn over me. It began with the top of my head and went down over my shoulders and over my entire body right down to the tips of my toes. At first, I was somewhat frightened, but a feeling of freedom came over me, a lightness, and a deep feeling of gratitude. [Elfriede Pawlowski, “If God Is for Us, Who Can Be Against Us?” in Behind the Iron Curtain, 72]

We see powerful evidences of the magnitude of the baptismal covenant in the history of the Church. In Liverpool, England, in the 1840s, George Cannon and his wife, Ann Quayle Cannon, were converted to the gospel. George wrote in a letter to his sister:

I was sincerely desirous to lead a new life . . . ; and though slow of belief at first, and not seeing the necessity of baptism, yet God in His infinite mercy opened my eyes.8

With the covenant of baptism and the promise of more covenants came the desire to join the Saints in America at all costs. Ann tucked a little money away each month so the family would have the funds necessary for the voyage.

The wish to get to Zion became . . . a consuming desire. . . . She began to count the days that must elapse before the ship’s sailing. She was impressed that if this season . . . should pass and find the family still in England, she would not be alive to urge the journey another year. . . . She had a sure premonition that she should not live to reach the shores of America, and told her husband so.9

Ann was expecting their seventh child at the time, and George tried to persuade her to wait.

[But] she refused absolutely—she would rather die in trying to go than live [by] remaining. . . .

. . . Both [George and Ann] prayed . . . that God’s blessing would attend them in doing what they believed to be His will.10

On September 17, 1842, George, Ann, and their six children boarded the ship and set sail for America. George later wrote:

We are now launched on the bosom of the mighty deep, and sea-sickness has made the passengers for the most part very ill. My dear Ann is dreadfully affected with this nauseous sickness. . . . Yet I have never heard one complaint from her on her own account.[She] regret [s] . . . not being able to assist me in the care of the children.11

The days and weeks went by, and Ann only worsened. On October 28 she passed away. George wrote, “O God, how mysterious are Thy ways! Teach me resignation to Thy will!”12

Both George and Ann Quayle Cannon understood the promise “The Lord God will proceed to make bare his arm . . . in bringing about his covenants and his gospel unto those who are of the house of Israel.”13 George and Ann Cannon lived their lives keeping their covenant of baptism and looking to the promise of more covenants while carving out a future for their posterity.
What did they clearly understand about the covenant of baptism? What was it that drove George and Ann to come to America at all costs? They were simply doing what they believed to be the Lord’s will.

I have experienced this promise both spiritually and academically. Last semester I took two philosophy related courses. In these two courses, we studied about a philosophical view that questions our existence. This view claims that it is possible that none of you exist, but you are rather an imagination of the mind. It asks this question, "How do you know that I am real or that I exist? It is possible that you are being deceived by your imagination that there is an existence but in reality there is not"

Some of you are probably thinking, 'What kind of a question is that?' Or you are thinking, 'Is it not obvious that I am here because I am here?' But to me this was a legitimate question with a legitimate point, and therefore needed to be answered. The answer provided in class did not fully satisfy my curious mind. I started searching for an answer but was unsuccessful. One day I was preparing for a different assignment and came across the answer that I had been looking for. It was found in one of the well known teachings of Alma about faith (in Alma, Chapter 32). After explaining about [how] the seed of faith starts to grow and how the mind is being enlightened and the heart starts to swell, Alma then asked a question in verse 35, which to me was my answer. He said:

"O then, is not this real?" (Referring to the feelings that the listener to the words of truth is feeling.) "I say unto you, Yea, because it is light;" (Alma 32:35, emphasis added). Alma is saying that anything that is made up of light is real. Upon further study of this subject, an explanation by the Lord to the prophet Joseph Smith makes this principle clearer. To the prophet the Lord declared:

"The light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings 'the light which is in all things'" (D&C 88:11, 13).

Light exists in all things. Word or teaching of truth "is light" and this light enlightens the mind that hearkens to it. I remember the excitement that came over me when I made this discovery. Through the Spirit, Heavenly Father taught me truth that I would have never found elsewhere. Brothers and sisters, this is a promise to us. That we will be given great and hidden treasures of truth, but only after we put ourselves in unity with the Holy Spirit, the teacher of all truth.

In the performance of our responsibilities, I have learned that when we heed a silent prompting and act upon it without delay, our Heavenly Father will guide our footsteps and bless our lives and the lives of others. I know of no experience more sweet or feeling more precious than to heed a prompting only to discover that the Lord has answered another person’s prayer through you.
Perhaps just one example will suffice. One day just over a year ago, after taking care of matters at the office, I felt a strong impression to visit an aged widow who was a patient at St. Joseph Villa here in Salt Lake City. I drove there directly.
When I went to her room, I found it empty. I asked an attendant concerning her whereabouts and was directed to a lounge area. There I found this sweet widow visiting with her sister and another friend. We had a pleasant conversation together.
As we were talking, a man came to the door of the room to obtain a can of soda water from the vending machine. He glanced at me and said, “Why, you are Tom Monson.”
“Yes,” I replied. “And you look like a Hemingway.” He acknowledged that he was Stephen Hemingway, the son of Alfred Eugene Hemingway, who had served as my counselor when I was a bishop many years ago and whom I called Gene. Stephen told me that his father was there in the same facility and was near death. He had been calling my name, and the family had wanted to contact me but had been unable to find a telephone number for me.
I excused myself immediately and went with Stephen up to the room of my former counselor, where others of his children were also gathered, his wife having passed away some years previous. The family members regarded my meeting Stephen in the lounge area as a response by our Heavenly Father to their great desire that I would see their father before he died and answer his call. I too felt that this was the case, for if Stephen had not entered the room in which I was visiting at precisely the time he did, I would not have known that Gene was even in that facility.
We gave a blessing to him. A spirit of peace prevailed. We had a lovely visit, after which I left.
The following morning a phone call revealed that Gene Hemingway had passed away—just 20 minutes after he had received the blessing from his son and me.
I expressed a silent prayer of thanks to Heavenly Father for His guiding influence which prompted my visit to St. Joseph Villa and led me to my dear friend Alfred Eugene Hemingway.
I like to think that Gene Hemingway’s thoughts that evening, as we basked in the Spirit’s glow, participated in humble prayer, and pronounced a priesthood blessing, echoed the words mentioned in the hymn “Master, the Tempest Is Raging,” which I cited at the beginning of my message:
Linger, O blessed Redeemer!
Leave me alone no more,
And with joy I shall make the blest harbor
And rest on the blissful shore.

Kyle Dopp, who served in the Scotland Edinburgh Mission, said he had an experience which brought a new focus to his scripture study. “One of our investigators, Carol, was studying with missionaries from another church when we started to teach her. We explained some of the basic doctrines of the gospel. She said what we had taught her would make an interesting discussion with the missionaries from the other church. She had a study session planned for Monday.

“We gave her a Book of Mormon, read her the promise in Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5], and scheduled an appointment for Tuesday. The next week when we arrived, Carol was waiting for us—and so were two men. She had changed her study session from Monday to Tuesday.

“We sat down and began talking about the differences in our beliefs. We talked and talked, and I remember not being very well informed on their doctrines or even our own. I wasn’t able to cross-reference my scriptures well enough to know what was going on.

“Carol finally brought our discussion to a close and asked the two men to leave. ‘I want the Mormon missionaries to stay for just five minutes,’ she said.

“‘Oh, here we go,’ I thought. ‘She’s going to tell us to take a hike and give the Book of Mormon back to us.’ The two men left, and I asked her if she was completely confused.

“‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘I’m not confused. I know now just what I want. Up to this point I thought the other church I was studying had all the truth. But I can see now that I have to read the Book of Mormon because I know there is more. I need to know what is actually true.’

“She said her views about a premortal life and the personality and nature of God were very similar to what we had taught her. She already believed in those things, but she couldn’t defend them against the other church because she didn’t have any knowledge of the scriptures.

“We came in, and with a basic knowledge of what the scriptures actually teach, were able to explain to her those basic doctrines. The Lord blessed her to be able to see the truth through the confusion of the discussion that Tuesday, and she knew then she had to investigate to find more truth.

“I received a transfer when Carol was still reading the Book of Mormon, but I later heard that she and her husband were baptized.”

This experience changed Kyle’s focus during his scripture study. He felt he could have used the scriptures more effectively by being able to cross-reference. Tying together several scriptures to explain one doctrine gives a fuller meaning and brings greater understanding of the topic.

“I realized you can’t just take one scripture out of context to prove what you believe or teach. You have to give the whole picture, supporting the scripture with the events that were going on when it was written.

“I studied more intently after that experience. I studied for a purpose—to answer questions. I wanted to learn something—not just read.

My grandfather, Fritz Hjalmar Lundgren, emigrated from Sweden when he was 19 years old. He arrived in America alone, with a suitcase and six years of formal schooling. Unable to speak any English, he made his way to Oregon and worked there as a lumberjack and then later, with my grandmother and my mother, joined the Church. He never presided over a ward, but as a faithful home teacher, he brought more than 50 different families into Church activity. How did he do that?

After Grandpa’s death, I was going through a box of his papers and came across a letter written by a man who had come back to church because of Grandpa’s love. The letter read, “Brother Fritz’s secret, I believe, is that he is always on an errand for Heavenly Father.”

That letter was from Brother Wayne Simonis. Grandpa visited him and got to know each member of the family. In time, Grandpa told them that they were needed and invited them to attend church. But that Sunday, Brother Simonis awoke with a dilemma—he had not finished reroofing his house, and rain was expected that week. He decided that he’d go to church, shake hands with Grandpa, and then leave and go home to finish the roof. His family could attend sacrament meeting without him.

His plan was working just fine until, on the roof, he heard someone climbing the ladder. In his words: “When I looked up, … standing at the top of the ladder was Brother Fritz. He just gave me that big smile. At first, I was embarrassed and felt like a little kid getting caught for skipping school. Then … I felt anger. [But Brother Fritz just] took off his suit coat and hung it on the ladder. As he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, he turned to me and said, ‘Brother Simonis, do you have another hammer? This work must be very important or you wouldn’t have left your family, and if it’s that important, I want to help you.’ As I looked into his eyes, I saw only kindness and Christlike love. My anger left. … I laid my tools down that Sunday and followed my good friend down the ladder and back to the chapel.”

Grandpa had obtained his errand from the Lord, and he knew he was to seek out lost sheep. Just as when the four men who carried their friend with palsy onto a roof and then let him down to be healed by Jesus Christ,6 so too did Grandpa’s errand take him to a rooftop. The Lord sends revelation to those seeking to help others.

I was soon to leave for my military service. Nevertheless, my desire to be around the missionaries and members grew powerfully. As soon as I learned a new principle of the gospel, I put it into practice. Just before I left, one of the elders said, “You know, you live like a Mormon, but you’re trying to become perfect before you will join the Church. That’s the wrong way. It’s the Church that will help you achieve perfection.” They told me I had a testimony, but I still wasn’t sure.
In the military I had time to let my feelings grow and develop. There was lots of time to think, and I reflected deeply on my impressions of the Church. I was stationed with the mountain troops in Briançon, with no LDS branch nearby. But I guarded the things I had learned in my heart and let the seed of faith grow.
When I was released from the service, I faced a critical decision. My best friend from Normandy and I had planned for a long time to visit the United States, and I had saved my money so I could go. But his plans fell through. I had to decide whether or not to go by myself. I returned to Normandy, to walk the beaches and to think.
Anyone who could have eavesdropped on my mental conversation at that time would have known I already had a testimony. “I am well off here—I have my family and friends, I feel sure of myself, and this is the most beautiful spot on earth,” I told myself. “But what if I don’t go? I could miss an opportunity to learn even more about the gospel, to really gain a testimony of it. I could give up the trip, the dream of my young years. But to give up a chance to know more about the Lord’s church?”
In the U.S. I had the opportunity to develop many close relationships with Church members. I finally began to believe I did have a testimony—I can’t forget the wonderful feelings when, each time I’d ask myself a question, I would feel the Holy Ghost enlightening my soul, clearing away the doubt. I had had difficulty understanding why polygamy had been practiced. On a bus somewhere between Colorado and Utah, I glimpsed the vision, not a visual sight, but a spiritual insight, of the men who practiced it. And I saw how it was possible for such a thing to be pure, that it had come from God. That sort of clarification continued throughout my trip in the States.
I eventually ended up visiting some islands near Seattle, Washington. There, in a small apartment, I studied the Book of Mormon for ten days. My testimony continued to grow. The time had come to return to France, and in my heart I knew I would be baptized.
Several days after I returned home, the missionaries asked me to help them teach a lesson. The investigator was a science student, and he was struggling with some of the same questions I had confronted when I was studying the same subjects. I explained to him how I had found answers to the questions, and when we left he seemed satisfied and happy.
A few days later, the missionaries called to tell me he was joining the Church. “How about that,” I told myself. “Here I am, able to help someone else accept baptism, and not myself. This has lasted long enough!” I felt I had a testimony, but I fasted and prayed. I stayed up the whole night pleading with the Lord to seal this testimony in me. Finally, early in the morning, a sweet, peaceful calm filled my soul. I knew I had to tell the elders I was ready to be baptized.
As I rounded the last corner on my way to see the missionaries, I felt a strong force trying to keep me from going. It was like walking against a 70-mile-per-hour wind, which I had done before, only it was stronger. But this was spiritual. I was just about to give up and turn around. I knew this force wanted me to doubt everything, but I finally said, “No, no. I know there’s a God.” I felt that truth deep in the roots of my soul. I knew He would battle this force for me.
I reached the chapel door, just a normal chapel door, but I had to pull with all my might to force it open. When I entered I saw some members and felt their spirit, and the opposing force was gone, broken. I felt the sweet peace in my heart again, and felt it even more strongly several days later as I was baptized and confirmed. I still feel it to this day.

We learned a third lesson as the missionaries were in our home teaching Jack, a colleague of Clayton’s. One elder was newly arrived on his mission, and his senior companion from Argentina was still struggling with English. As a result, when questions arose, Jack would instinctively ask Clayton, who answered—confident that he could answer more clearly and convincingly than these elders could. We got into a rhythm in which the elders would teach a concept, Jack would ask a question, Clayton would answer it, and then the elders would teach the next concept. Jack then asked a difficult question for which Clayton had no ready answer. And as Clayton paused, the Argentine elder offered a profound answer, given by the Spirit. When Jack asked the next question, Clayton waited to see if this elder could do it again—and he did. We learned an important lesson about sharing the gospel. Despite their inexperience, we can trust the missionaries to teach the gospel well, because whom the Lord calls, He qualifies.

As a boy of fifteen I was called to preside over a quorum of teachers. Our adviser was interested in us, and we knew it. One day he said to me, “Tom, you enjoy raising pigeons, don’t you?”
I responded with a warm “Yes.”
Then he proposed, “How would you like me to give you a pair of purebred Birmingham Roller pigeons?”
This time I answered, “Yes, sir!” You see, the pigeons I had were just the common variety trapped on the roof of the Grant Elementary School.
He invited me to come to his home the next evening. The next day was one of the longest in my young life. I was awaiting my adviser’s return from work an hour before he arrived. He took me to his loft, which was in a small barn at the rear of his yard. As I looked at the most beautiful pigeons I had yet seen, he said, “Select any male, and I will give you a female which is different from any other pigeon in the world.” I made my selection. He then placed in my hand a tiny hen. I asked what made her so different. He responded, “Look carefully, and you’ll notice that she has but one eye.” Sure enough, one eye was missing, a cat having done the damage. “Take them home to your loft,” he counseled. “Keep them in for about ten days and then turn them out to see if they will remain at your place.”
I followed his instructions. Upon releasing them, the male pigeon strutted about the roof of the loft, then returned inside to eat. But the one-eyed female was gone in an instant. I called Harold, my adviser, and asked: “Did that one-eyed pigeon return to your loft?”
“Come on over,” said he, “and we’ll have a look.”
As we walked from his kitchen door to the loft, my adviser commented, “Tom, you are the president of the teachers quorum.” This I already knew. Then he added, “What are you going to do to activate Bob?”
I answered, “I’ll have him at quorum meeting this week.”
Then he reached up to a special nest and handed to me the one-eyed pigeon. “Keep her in a few days and try again.” This I did, and once more she disappeared. Again the experience, “Come on over and we’ll see if she returned here.” Came the comment as we walked to the loft, “Congratulations on getting Bob to priesthood meeting. Now what are you and Bob going to do to activate Bill?”
“We’ll have him there this week,” I volunteered.
This experience was repeated over and over again. I was a grown man before I fully realized that, indeed, Harold, my adviser, had given me a special pigeon; the only bird in his loft he knew would return every time she was released. It was his inspired way of having an ideal personal priesthood interview with the teachers quorum president every two weeks. I owe a lot to that one-eyed pigeon. I owe more to that quorum adviser. He had the patience to help me prepare for opportunities which lay ahead.

Mzwakhe Sitole faces a challenge. As ward Sunday School president, he has a God-given responsibility to help improve gospel learning and teaching in the ward.1
But the members of his ward in Johannesburg, South Africa, have, in some cases, vastly different backgrounds and expectations. Some are well-educated; others are not. Many have been taught that a student’s place is to listen, not to talk. Others face an uphill cultural battle in understanding that both men and women should be involved in teaching at church and at home.
“We also have people who speak different languages,” Brother Sitole says. “But the Spirit wants to prompt each one.”
When teacher council meetings and Teaching in the Savior’s Way were introduced last year, wards and branches throughout the Church began holding teacher council meetings to discuss, learn about, and practice what it means to teach in the Savior’s way.
That’s when Brother Sitole began to see how teacher council meetings could bless his ward. Cultural challenges could be addressed, class participation could be increased, and different perspectives of members could become blessings.
Like many others around the world, Brother Sitole realized that the Lord isn’t using teacher council meetings just to change how we teach; He’s using them to also change how we learn.
One of the most interesting discoveries for Brother Sitole was that as teachers empower students to participate in their own learning, everyone benefits from the expanded view that different perspectives provide.
That understanding came to Brother Sitole during a teacher council meeting, when a ward member shared the parable of the blind men and the elephant, only with a twist. The parable tells how six blind men each describe an elephant differently (a leg is like a pillar, the tail is like a rope, the trunk is like a water spout, and so forth) because each is touching a different part.2
“But suppose the elephant represents gospel teaching,” Brother Sitole says. “Then we need to enable each class member to share their perspective, so that together we come to a common understanding of how the gospel blesses us all.”
That’s why teachers in Brother Sitole’s ward always sit around a table during teacher council meeting—to facilitate discussion. “It reminds us that everyone has an equal voice,” he says.