Gospel Story Finder

Johnny was unhappy. There was no one to play with him. Todd had gone to visit his grandmother. Scott was on a fishing trip with his father. Mother was in the kitchen making bread. Baby was asleep in his room.
It had rained yesterday, but now the sun had broken through the clouds. Johnny was anxious to go outside.
“May I go out to play?” Johnny asked Mother.
“Yes,” she answered, “but be back in time for lunch.”
Johnny pulled on his shoes and ran outside. He skipped down the sidewalk to a field of tall grass. Everything smelled fresh and new after the rain.
When Johnny reached the edge of the field, he turned a cartwheel and rolled to the bottom of the grassy slope.
Lying in the tall grass, Johnny pretended he was in a jungle.
Then he imagined he was in a forest in the mountains. Finally Johnny pretended he was a small worm squirming through the grass.
But playing all alone wasn’t much fun.
Johnny looked up at the sun. It seemed to be dancing through great white puffs of clouds.
The wind shaped the clouds into an elephant with big floppy ears and a long trunk.
Behind the elephant Johnny saw a fat bear dancing along with the sun, a boat, two fish, a dog, and a car.
The car reminded Johnny that Daddy would soon be home for lunch. Johnny looked up again at the sky. The car in the clouds was gone, but he could see Daddy’s car parked by his house.
Mother was putting the baby in the high chair as Johnny came into the house. The kitchen was full of good warm smells.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Mother smiled. “Were you lonely all by yourself in the field?”
“No,” Johnny answered happily, thinking about all the things in the clouds he had seen floating through the sky. “I found some new friends today!”

The quarterly conference of the Parowan Stake in December 1879 witnessed the call of forty-nine men and their families to a new mission. The call came from President John Taylor and the Twelve through Elder Erastus Snow. Later, others from nearby settlements joined the final company. What followed became the Hole-in-the-Rock expedition, an epic in Church history. Two hundred fifty of our people, with eighty wagons and hundreds of loose cattle and horses, cut their way through the rough, unknown country of southeastern Utah. The area traversed remains one of the least-known regions of the world today. Their objective was the San Juan country. In addition to desert cliffs and canyons, the forbidding Colorado River gorge stood in their way. No highway bridge crossed that gorge until 1934. No commercial airline flew from Utah to Arizona, near their route, until 1959.
Seeking the shortest route, Mormon explorers found a narrow slit in Glen Canyon. The river ran two thousand feet below the red cliffs. This “Hole in the Rock” seemed to offer the shortest route.
Only a slit in the sheer cliffs, the hole was too narrow for teams, or in some places even for a man. Sheer drops of as much as seventy-five feet made it impossible even for a mountain sheep, let alone loaded wagons. In December 1879, after having left the Parowan and Cedar valleys the previous April, the Saints began to cut a precipitous, primitive road with blasting powder and tools. Elder Platte D. Lyman, leading the party, found that if a road could be built, it would drop eight feet every sixteen and one-half, the first third of the way to the river. Thereafter came several sheer precipices. But the party was prepared. With faith, they were equipped not only for blasting cliffs and carving passages, but for building a raft-boat capable of carrying teams and wagons across the river.
A road was built and a boat made by January 25, 1880. Now came the effort to get families and the first forty wagons, camped at the rim, down the “Hole.” The others, back at Fifty-Mile Spring, would follow later.
Kumen Jones has left a description of the method of descent. Twenty men and boys would hold long ropes back of each wagon. The wheels were brake-locked with chains. Otherwise, rolling wheels would pitch, unchecked, into the struggling team. On January 26, 1880, a month later, Platte D. Lyman recorded in his journal: “Today we worked all the wagons in this camp down the Hole and ferried 26 of them across the river. The boat is worked by 1 pair of oars and does very well.”
The family of Joseph Stanford Smith and his wife, Arabella, was the last wagon to descend that day. A grandson, Raymond Smith Jones, has described their experience. I doubt that a modern film company, with millions of dollars and modern engineering resources, could film this epic.
Stanford Smith had helped the preceding wagons down that long day. His outfit had evidently been forgotten. Deeply disturbed, he climbed the two-thousand-foot incline. He found Arabella sitting on a quilt, holding the baby, patiently waiting. His outfit and their two other children in the wagon were hidden behind a huge, mountainous rock.
Stanford Smith moved his load to the edge. A third horse was hitched to the rear axle. Stanford and Arabella looked down the “Hole.” He said, “I am afraid we can’t make it.”
The wife replied, “We must make it.”
He said, “If we only had a few men to hold the wagon back we might make it, Belle.”
Replied his wife, “I’ll do the holding back.”
A quilt was laid on the ground. There she placed the baby between the legs of three-year-old Roy. “Hold little brother til papa comes for you,” she said. Ada, the older girl, was placed in front of them. Behind the wagon Belle Smith grasped the reins of the horse hitched to the rear. Stanford started the team down the “Hole.” The wagon lurched downward. The rear horse and Belle were thrown from their feet. Recovering, she hung back, pulling on the lines with all her strength and courage. A jagged rock cut a cruel gash in her leg from heel to hip. The horse behind the wagon fell to his haunches. The half-dead animal was dragged down most of the way. The gallant woman, clothes torn, with a grievous wound, later said, “I crow-hopped right along!”
On reaching the bottom, Stanford and Arabella heard a faint call from the children. Joseph Stanford Smith climbed to the top to get them. They were safely in place. Carrying the baby, the other children clinging to him and to each other, he led them down the rocky crack. As they approached the river’s edge, they saw five men carrying chains and ropes in the distance. The Smiths had been missed. The men were coming to help. Stanford called out, “Forget it, fellows. … My wife here is all the help a fellow needs.” (See David E. Miller, Hole-in-the-Rock: An Epic in the Colonization of the Great American West, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1959, pp. 101–18.)

Betty was born on 4 January 1932 in Kadina, on the Yorke Peninsula of South Australia. It was during the Great Depression and her father, one of many looking for employment, moved his family to Whyalla to work at the newly opened shipyard.
They lived in a tent on the beach until Betty’s father could build a cabin for them. She remembers, “As far as you could see, the beach was lined with families living in tents.” Children loved living there and going for a swim anytime they wanted.

I remember one of the last sacrament meetings my father ever attended. After fighting cancer for a year, my dad was reaching the end of his life. The opening hymn that day at church was “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30).
I peered down the row to look at my dad. He was crying. I moved down the bench to sit next to him and asked him if he was crying because of the pain or the song. As we sang, “And should we die before our journey’s through,” he looked straight into my eyes, and I knew that he was leaving us.
Now it brings me peace when I finish the rest of the song: “Happy day! All is well! We then are free from toil and sorrow, too; With the just we shall dwell!” This song of comfort is part of my father’s legacy to me.

Another thing I learned from my father is gratitude. When I was a child, there was a severe drought in our community. Weeks and weeks passed with no water, and our small farming community was suffering. As the bishop, Father told the ward members to fast and pray for water. He also counseled them to settle any bad feelings among each other so that we could have feelings of love and unity in our ward.
I remember gathering for the special fast and testimony meeting we held to plead for water. During the meeting, it began to rain. It rained so heavily that we couldn’t leave the meetinghouse! We had to wait for it to stop before we could go home.
Our prayers were answered. In gratitude, my father invited the ward members back the next week for a second fast and testimony meeting—this one to thank the Lord for sending the water. I learned at a young age to thank Heavenly Father for the blessings He gives us.

I soon learned to follow another kind of guidance, too. When I was young, Primary was held after school in the middle of the week. One day when I was about six years old, I was walking from Primary to my grandparent’s house. While I walked, I was thinking about the Primary lesson my teacher had just given about “turning the other cheek,” rather than trying to get even. She had taught us that fighting and quarreling are contrary to the teachings of Jesus.

As I walked along, a small group of older boys started pushing me and taunting me to fight. Normally when someone picked on me, I tried to “even the score.” But at that moment, a powerful feeling came over me that I should not follow my natural instinct to fight. After calling me a few insulting names, the boys went on their way, disappointed that they had not made me fight. This was one of the first times I remember the Holy Ghost whispering to me. Clearly, the Holy Ghost has been the strongest influence in my life.

Sacred music has tremendous power to help us learn and live gospel principles. A sister was asked to talk to some youth in a seminary class about Church music. Her first question to the youth was, “What were some of the lessons you were taught in Primary?” There was no response. Then she asked the students if they could remember any Primary songs. Many hands were raised, and the youth shared countless song titles. The sister wrote gospel principles on the chalkboard, and Primary songs and hymns were listed under each principle. Those young people quickly understood that music teaches the principles of the gospel, and songs and hymns—and the messages they teach—are remembered for years.

Joseph cherished the faithfulness and constant support of his beloved parents, as seen by his tender pleading with the Lord concerning his father’s failing health in 1835: “I waited on him all this day with my heart raised to God in the name of Jesus Christ, that He would restore him to health, that I might be blessed with his company and advice, esteeming it one of the greatest earthly blessings to be blessed with the society of parents, whose mature years and experience render them capable of administering the most wholesome advice” (History of the Church, 2:289).
Even when Joseph was most busy with his responsibilities as prophet and President of the Church, his concern for his family and parents came to the fore. His diary for 8–11 October 1835—when he had just commenced again to translate the writings of Abraham—records his concern for his father. No other business was more pressing or important.
“Thursday, 8.—At home. I attended on my father with great anxiety.
“Friday, 9.—At home. Waited on my father.
“Saturday, 10.—At home, and visited the house of my father, found him failing very fast.
“Sunday, 11.—Waited on my father again, who was very sick. In secret prayer in the morning, the Lord said, ‘My servant, thy father shall live.’ …
“At evening Brother David Whitmer came in. We called on the Lord in mighty prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, and laid our hands on [my father], and rebuked the disease. And God heard and answered our prayers—to the great joy and satisfaction of our souls” (History of the Church, 2:289).

I began to study the Atonement intensively. And I studied the doctrine of the change of heart and the meaning of being born again. As I studied, I developed a profound reverence for the Savior, for the power of his atonement, and for its efficacy in saving me from all of my failings and weaknesses.
One day I read Mosiah 5:7–8: “Ye shall be called the children of Christ … ; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.
“And under this head ye are made free, and there is no other head whereby ye can be made free.”
Now I understood the words made free. I was being released from so many personal fears, inadequacies, and negative feelings that it seemed as if tangible shackles were falling from my hands and feet. My posture changed as I began to see myself as a person who had every reason to stand tall. My children asked why I was smiling so much. My husband asked why we didn’t quarrel anymore. My mother and brothers simply asked, “What happened?”

The first is a February sketch. Joseph Smith was imprisoned in Liberty Jail, and Brigham Young was directing the affairs of the Church by reason of his position as president of the Council of the Twelve, a new responsibility that had recently fallen his lot because of the apostasy of Thomas B. Marsh and the murder of David W. Patten in the battle of Crooked River. The problem at hand was the moving of the Saints from Missouri to Illinois. Few persons were well equipped for the move; many were destitute, and in their haste to leave, the temptation to run for one’s own life was strong. But in Brigham Young’s mind this was not a course of action for true Saints of God. Surely society would never endure unless men could learn love and compassion and concern for each other.

Accordingly, a meeting was called and a covenant drawn up, stating in effect that the signers would never leave until they had aided all of the poor to leave with them. Brigham Young and his family, accompanied by the family of Heber C. Kimball (Elder Kimball having remained in Missouri) set out in the cold February climate, with their wagons aimed toward Illinois, in one of the strangest processions in the entire Mormon emigration experience.

After traveling as much as twenty miles across the frozen Missouri plains, Brigham would stop, establish a temporary shelter for his wife and five children, and then retrace his journey to its point of origin, load up some of the poor and destitute Saints, and return to his family. In this way he actually covered three times the distance of most of his fellow travelers. Later, at the ending of their journey, Quincy, Illinois, an impressive meeting was held. The Saints in Quincy, learning that fifty families were still in Far West and were too poor to leave, drew together once more, offering to sell what little they had left—their hats, coats, and shoes—to raise funds for this movement. Brigham Young comments:

“We broke bread and partook of the Sacrament. At the close of the meeting $50 was collected in money and several teams were subscribed to go and bring out the brethren. Among the subscribers was Widow Warren Smith, whose husband and son had been killed at the massacre at Haun’s Mill. She sent her only team on this charitable mission.”

A few years ago, one of our young grandsons, Aaron, began having health problems. He became fatigued, had quite a bit of bruising, and did not look healthy. After medical testing, he was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia, a disease where his bone marrow stopped producing red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. Without treatment and an eventual cure, his blood could not clot properly or fight off infections, so even minor falls, injuries, or illnesses could quickly become life-threatening.
For a period of time, Aaron received regular platelet and blood transfusions to keep him out of danger. The doctors explained that the only cure for the disease would be a bone marrow transplant, and the best chance for success would be to have a sibling as the donor. If one of his siblings were an ideal match, the outcome of the transplant could be lifesaving. His four younger brothers were tested, and one, Maxwell, was deemed a perfect match.
Even with a perfect donor match, a bone marrow transplant still poses a serious risk of complications. The process required that Aaron’s own cells in his diseased bone marrow be destroyed by a combination of chemotherapy and radiation before receiving the stem cells from his brother Maxwell’s bone marrow. Then because of Aaron’s compromised immune system, he needed to be isolated in the hospital for several weeks and then at home for several months with special protocols, restrictions, and medications.
The hoped-for outcome from the transplant was that Aaron’s body would not reject the donor cells and that Maxwell’s cells would gradually produce the needed red and white blood cells and platelets in Aaron’s body. A successful donor transplant causes a very real physiological change. Amazingly, a doctor explained that if Aaron committed a crime and left blood at the crime scene, the police could arrest his brother Maxwell. This is because Aaron’s blood would come from Maxwell’s transplanted cells and have Maxwell’s DNA, and this would be the case for the rest of his life.
Aaron being saved by his brother’s blood has spurred many thoughts about the atoning blood of Jesus Christ and the effect of His Atonement on us. I would like to focus today on the permanent, life-giving change that occurs as we allow the Lord to work miracles in us.
Aaron did not have the power in himself to overcome the disease. His body could not make the blood cells needed to sustain his life. No matter what he personally did, he could not heal his bone marrow. Just as Aaron could not cure himself, we cannot save ourselves. No matter how capable, educated, brilliant, or strong we are, we cannot cleanse ourselves from our sins, change our bodies to an immortal state, or exalt ourselves. It is only possible through the Savior Jesus Christ and His infinite Atonement. “There is none other way nor name given under heaven whereby man can be saved in the kingdom of God.” It is His atoning blood that cleanses us and sanctifies us.
Although Aaron could not heal himself, in order for the transplant to work he needed to be willing to do what the doctors asked—even very difficult, challenging things. Although we can’t save ourselves, when we submit to the Lord’s will and keep our covenants, the way is open for our redemption. Like the remarkable process of the very DNA of Aaron’s blood cells changing, we can have our hearts changed, have His image in our countenances, and become new creatures in Christ.
Can you imagine how overwhelming it would have been for our young grandson Aaron to assume he had to understand and perform all the medical procedures associated with his transplant himself? We should not assume we need to do what only the Savior can do in the miraculous process of our perfection.
With medical treatments like Aaron’s, there is always some uncertainty of the outcome. In fact, Aaron needed a second transplant when the first one had complications. Thankfully, with a spiritual change of heart, we don’t have to wonder if it will happen. When we live according to His will, “relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save,” there is a 100 percent guarantee of being cleansed by the Savior’s blood and eventually being perfected in Him. He is “a God of truth, and [cannot] lie.”
The miraculous change in Aaron’s health has brought great joy to our family. Imagine the great joy in heaven as mighty changes happen in our souls.

Not long after he was called to serve as bishop of our ward, my husband, Scott, admonished our ward members not to be critical of the way individuals serve in their callings. To illustrate the point, he used as an analogy our experience together as we hung the outside Christmas lights on the roof of our home.
He was perched near the top of a very tall ladder. The ladder teetered precariously on the icy slope of our front lawn. With one arm, he hung onto the ladder, and with the other arm he strung the lights from beam to beam. Uncomfortable with heights, he felt a little anxious. I stood on the ground, steadying the ladder. As he reached for the farthest beam, he called down to me, “I don’t know about this! I sure would hate to fall and break something.” I laughed and yelled back, “You can do it! I believe in you!” He reached out and placed the final light.
After Scott related this story to the ward members, he explained that most of us, in an effort to serve and to magnify a calling, are metaphorically perched atop shaky ladders. We, too, must overcome our fears and inhibitions, reaching out to symbolically place a light or two. While we’re up there, what we need most is someone who steadies the ladder, who occasionally gives helpful directions, if needed, and who also shouts words of encouragement and affirmation. We don’t need someone standing back criticizing the way we do our jobs.

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.
“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.
“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”
Prince received his answer.
“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

Soon I made friends at school and looked forward to seeing them each day. One friend, Larry Dawson, lived about a mile from my home. Larry invited me to his house for a birthday party. I had never been to a birthday party before. It was so much fun! I still remember some of the special toys Larry received—especially his new toy fire engine.
Larry and I rode the bus to school because we lived too far from school to walk. Larry got off the bus at the bus stop on the main highway just before I got off. He then had to cross the highway and walk half a mile (about 1 km) to his home. At that time cars did not stop when a school bus was loading or unloading students.
One day as we were returning home from school, a car speeding by the bus hit and killed my friend. I felt very sad. I missed being with Larry at school and on the bus. My mother and father comforted me by explaining that even though I wouldn’t see Larry anymore in this life, his spirit continued to live in the spirit world. Larry was so kind and good that I knew he would be worthy to live with our Heavenly Father. As I grew, I learned more about our Father’s plan for His children.

My temple service ended when I moved away to attend college. And I was so busy and overwhelmed with my studies that I didn’t attend the temple as often. I started to notice a nagging feeling that I needed to serve there again, so I met with my bishop to ask about it.
I received a call to serve in the temple on Saturday afternoons.
Yes, I was so busy, but I was thrilled to make time to serve in the Lord’s house every week. With each shift, I grew closer to the Savior and to Heavenly Father, and I was able to enjoy the peace that is unique to His house.
My temple service has been somewhat brief, but I can testify that my time serving has changed my life for the better.

I attended church and seminary, but my family later fell away. I had friends at church and went to seminary and Mutual to be with them. I didn’t care about the gospel or the teachings and thought church was generally boring. My life grew troubled as I began to engage in activities such as shoplifting and vandalism. My father became abusive, and I thought about suicide.

However, suicide was never an option. I couldn’t do that to my mother, whom I loved deeply. So I was left to find an answer. I looked around and saw my friends from church. The one thing they had that I didn’t was a testimony. So at the age of 16, four years after my baptism, I sat down to read the Book of Mormon for the first time.

It was difficult, and it took me nearly two years. As I read in 3 Nephi about the Savior’s visit to the Nephites after His Resurrection, where He blesses their children and angels descend from heaven and encircle them, it was as though I stood among the Nephites and saw with my own eyes that miraculous event. The Holy Ghost bore witness of that great moment.

I could not read any more, as my eyes blurred with tears. When I regained my composure, I continued reading. A few more weeks passed, and I finished the book, knelt, and prayed to know if it was true. But I got no answer.

Days passed with me kneeling regularly and pleading to know if the book was true, if the Church was true, but still I got no answer. Despairing, weeks after I’d finished reading, I knelt one more time and asked, “Heavenly Father, is the Book of Mormon true?” The answer that came was not what I expected: “I have already told you. You know it is.”

I had gained my testimony weeks before, when I read about Christ blessing the children. I knew that this Church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is the kingdom of God on earth, restored by a prophet and led by a prophet, as in days of old.

It is no exaggeration to say that the Book of Mormon saved my life, but it would be more accurate to say the restored gospel saved me and continues to renew me and nourish me each day. It is my most precious possession.

A few years ago, when I was serving as an Area Seventy in Brazil, my family and I were on vacation in the beautiful city of Florianópolis. On Sunday, as usual, we went to the closest church that we could find. My wife and I and our oldest daughter attended a Sunday School class where they were discussing our personal testimony of the gospel.
At some point in the lesson, the teacher asked the class members if they would share a powerful spiritual experience they had while developing their testimony of the Church.
While some brothers and sisters were sharing their stories, I mentally reviewed my own experiences as a convert for something I could share with them, but I could not think of anything very remarkable in my process of gaining a testimony.
While I was thinking and listening to the others’ experiences, I realized that the teacher expected me to participate. She was listening to the other members, and she let me know that she was waiting for my great experience to be shared. After all, I was an Area Seventy, and I should have something impressive to share. Feeling that the time was passing and she was waiting for me, I tried harder to find something that would fit in this category of a powerful event, but I was not able to think of anything, to the disappointment of the teacher. For all I wanted to help, I could not meet her expectation.
Fortunately that was a fast Sunday, and during sacrament meeting, I took the opportunity to express my testimony to the congregation and especially to that sister and her Sunday School class. It was not a remarkable experience that I had to share but a sincere testimony that I have about the truths of the restored gospel.

Illustration by Adam Koford
Benji stood in front of the mirror, straightening his tie. His white shirt and gray pants fit perfectly. His hair was combed. He definitely looked ready to be ordained a deacon. So why did he feel so nervous?
Benji grabbed his scriptures and left the room. He tried not to think about how different things would be at church today. And then there was the new priesthood duty that worried him whenever he thought about it: passing the sacrament. What if he made a mistake his first time next week? He tried to forget that too as he left the house.
Sacrament meeting went the same as always. But afterward Benji walked with his family to Bishop Salazar’s office. This was definitely different. Normally he’d be in Primary opening exercises right now.
Benji sat down as Dad, the bishop, the Young Men president, and the bishopric counselors laid their hands on his head. Dad gave him the Aaronic Priesthood. During the blessing, the butterflies in Benji’s stomach disappeared. He felt calm and happy.
Benji stood and shook hands with everybody. Then he hugged Mom and his brother, Jay, and his little sister, Mirasol.
Afterward he went to Sunday School. Even though the new classes weren’t the same as in Primary, they still felt familiar. The lesson was on prayer. He’d had plenty of prayer lessons before in Primary. Benji breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe being a deacon wouldn’t be so hard.
“It will be great,” Jay told Benji after church. “I’ll bless the sacrament, and you can pass it.”
All the butterflies rushed back. “Yeah, great,” he said quietly. Passing the sacrament was what Benji was most worried about!
Later that night Benji found Dad reading on the couch. “What if I miss someone and they don’t get the sacrament?” he asked. “What if I trip?” He could see it clear as day in his mind, the tray clattering to the floor and water cups flying everywhere.
Dad squeezed Benji’s shoulder. “I remember the first time I passed the sacrament. I was probably more nervous than you are right now.”
Benji blinked in surprise. “You? You aren’t afraid of anything!”
Dad laughed. “I’ve been scared plenty of times. Do you know what helped me get over being nervous?”
Benji thought a moment. “Prayer?”
Dad smiled. “That’s right. Prayer. And my father gave me a blessing. Would you like me to give you one?”
Benji nodded quickly. “Yes! I’d like that a lot.”
The family gathered in the living room. Dad put his hands on Benji’s head. As Dad spoke, Benji felt tears begin to form. “Remember,” Dad said in the blessing, “you have received the priesthood through a sacred ordinance. Heavenly Father gave us the priesthood so that we can serve others. If you can do this with full purpose of heart, you will be blessed in this and in all things.”
All week Benji prayed for help. The following Sunday he joined the deacons at the front of the chapel. He listened closely as Jay said the blessing on the bread.
Suddenly he felt worried all over again. Could he really do this? It was so important! Then he remembered the promises from Dad’s blessing. His worried feelings left as the Spirit settled over him.
He picked up the tray and moved confidently to his assigned rows. Carefully he handed the tray to a woman in the first row.
She smiled at him. Benji smiled back, knowing that he was serving the Lord.

Illustration by David Habben
I learned about the power and blessings of the priesthood at an unfortunate time. A few years ago, when my little brother was 14, he wrecked on his motorcycle and snapped his leg in half. My dad called and told me they were taking him to the hospital. I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I rushed to the hospital. When I got there, I saw one of my uncles. He told me how bad the accident was.
Fearing what I would see, I opened the door where my brother was and stepped into the room. I took one step, closed my eyes, and was instantly at peace. Just as I will never forget the sick feeling I had, I will never forget the feeling of peace and comfort that came over me. I recognized the feeling—it was the Spirit.
I then heard my father speaking. He and my uncle were giving my brother a priesthood blessing. He humbly blessed his son in the name of Jesus Christ to be OK, to heal, to have his leg work properly again.
After the blessing, everyone was quiet for a while. I knew at that moment that I had to live worthy to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and be able to perform blessings for my future children.
When we gathered in the hall outside my brother’s room, my parents started to discuss what they should do. They debated whether to leave Mexico to take him to a doctor in the United States or to have the surgery performed here. Whatever option they felt was best for my brother, I knew he had already received the best attention he could receive. He had received a blessing by two men holding the priesthood, so no matter what my parents decided, my brother was going to be fine.
They decided to stay in Mexico for the operation. Doctors put a plate and 10 screws into my brother’s leg. It healed well, and a few months later he joined a soccer team. The blessing was fulfilled just as my dad had said.
I know the priesthood is the power and authority of God given to men. What a great gift He has given us.

When Fan Hsieh read about the restoration of the priesthood, he had to know more. “For the first time since I was released from the priesthood in my own church, I thought I might be able to hold the priesthood again,” he says.
After serving eighteen years as a Catholic priest, Hsieh had given up his ministry because he felt “a spiritual void.” Now, as he studied the restored gospel, he was about to discover the true priesthood of God.
Fan Hsieh was born 23 August 1922 in Tayeh, China, an isolated farming community. He did not begin formal education until he was ten years old. After four years in a private school, he enrolled in a Catholic school, began to learn about Jesus Christ, and was baptized a Catholic. “I saw the example of many good Catholic missionaries,” he says, “and I thought maybe China needed more of them to teach the people about Jesus Christ. I decided to become a priest.”
Hsieh’s road to that goal was long and arduous. He attended a Catholic seminary in Wuhan for four years. Then he studied at a Catholic university in the capital city of Beijing [Peking]. A year later, the communists took over the city, and Hsieh escaped to Shanghai, where he attended the Aurora Jesuit University. When the communist forces invaded Shanghai, he moved to the Catholic seminary in Hong Kong. Then, because of the political situation, the seminary was transferred to Macao. While there, Hsieh was ordained a priest in the Catholic church.
Following his ordination, he was assigned to Rome, Italy, where he studied Italian, Latin, and law for four years. Next he moved to Paris, France, where he studied French, Greek, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and German so that he could better understand the original texts and the various translations of the Bible. He wanted to learn all he could about the Savior.
Finally, in 1967, Hsieh’s original desire to teach his people about Jesus Christ became a reality. Cardinal Yu Ping, president of Fu Jen Catholic University in Taipei, invited him to become a member of the faculty as a professor of philosophy and French. In this assignment, Hsieh began to share his growing testimony of Jesus Christ.
“I spent eighteen years teaching and fulfilling my responsibilities as a priest,” says Hsieh. “I was very busy, but I wasn’t happy. I had had the opportunity to study in Europe; I had been a teacher, a student, a professor, a chaplain, a seminary director—my life was colorful—but there was a spiritual void.”
And there were rules and customs within the Catholic church with which Hsieh was uncomfortable, such as the ban on certain books—and he liked to read and study all he could. Another problem that bothered him as an ordained priest was the Lord’s statement: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
“This particular scripture became a vivid reality for me once when I was seriously sick and there was no one close to take care of me. I felt very alone. I realized the need for a companion to share my life. I decided then that being alone forever wasn’t right.”
This combination of feelings built up over time. Finally, in 1973, he asked to be released from his priestly vows. He resigned from Fu Jen University and was immediately hired by National Cheng Chi University in Taipei. There, one year later, Hsieh met, courted, and married one of his university assistants. He was about fifty years old at this time.
“But giving up the priesthood was difficult for me,” he says. “I had been a priest for so long. Now I had given up everything that I had lived for up to that point in time. I missed sharing my knowledge and understanding of the gospel, something I had been able to do as a priest. I thought about becoming a minister in another church that allowed priests to marry. But because of my belief in the Catholic church, I couldn’t make that change.”
Three years after his marriage, Hsieh was alone in his home when two young men knocked on his door. “They asked to talk to me, and I said I had no time and no interest in whatever they wanted to talk about.
“But as I thought about them, I became more curious. I wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in Taiwan, so I looked out from the balcony of my apartment and saw them going from door to door. I waited for a long time for them to come out of one of the apartments, and then I called to them to come back to mine.
“The first question I asked them was, ‘Are you missionaries?’ When they answered yes, I questioned them about their religion. Many of my questions were left unanswered, and I didn’t feel satisfied with our first conversation.
“That evening, as I discussed their visit with my wife, she reminded me of the Lord’s admonition to ‘beware of false prophets.’” (See Matt. 7:15.)
When the missionaries made a return visit, Hsieh was not going to let them in, but he didn’t want to be impolite. For the entire evening, Hsieh explained to the missionaries what true religion should be. He did not tell them that he had been a Catholic priest, but they felt encouraged by his knowledge of Christianity.
One of the missionaries, Donald B. Cenatiempo, wrote of the experience, “I felt as if we were the students and he was the teacher. We could tell he was a very intelligent and religious man.” The missionaries asked if they could return, and Hsieh said yes. The visits became a weekly ritual.
“I didn’t want to send them away,” Hsieh remembers. “I thought that if their church were true, it would have a prophet and continuing revelation. I asked them why their church didn’t have crosses or crucifixes, and they said, ‘Because Christ is risen; Christ lives. If one of your friends or parents dies,’ they said, ‘do you take out a photograph of them dead and show it to everyone?’ I was spiritually touched by the wisdom of their response.”
Hsieh started to read the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants, which he especially liked because it is a record of the Lord speaking to man in these latter days. He asked for other books to read, and the missionaries gave him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards.
“We told Brother Hsieh that it was possible for him to receive the priesthood and perform certain duties within that priesthood,” Elder Cenatiempo wrote. “Brother Hsieh understood as well as anybody could in his stage of spiritual progression what it would mean to hold the priesthood—the true priesthood of God.”
Hsieh explained to his wife what he had read, and she found it very interesting. Together, they began to study and pray for understanding. Eventually, Hsieh’s wife announced to the missionaries, “We have prayed and we feel it best to be baptized together.” They were baptized in December 1977.
In the years since that special event in their lives, they have developed strong testimonies that they enjoy sharing with others.
“We have always said that we would be willing to do whatever the Lord wants us to do,” says Brother Hsieh. “And we’ve always tried to use every opportunity and every talent he has given us to help build up the kingdom of God on the earth and to share the gospel message.”
Some unique opportunities have opened up to Brother Hsieh to do this. He has lectured seven times at the International Conference for Christian Professors. “They are interested in the Church because it is quite new and unique in modern Christianity,” he says. “The Lord has given me many opportunities to bear my testimony to these scholars.”
Currently, Brother Hsieh, a member of the Mu Cha Ward, serves as a high councilor in the Taipei Taiwan West Stake and has assisted in work on a second Chinese translation of the Book of Mormon.
“The gospel is the love of God,” he says. “It is important that all men and women hear this message. What we do, we do for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Friendship is the method by which we share the gospel. The final goal for all is salvation and exaltation.”