Gospel Story Finder

One such individual was Sister Eva Oryang from Uganda, Africa. While living in her home country she had held a top political office and served as a prominent member of the government. However, in the summer of 1988 government officials of Uganda received several death threats, and Sister Oryang feared for her life. She left Uganda and arrived in Tuskegee, Alabama, where her oldest son was attending Tuskegee University. After two weeks of living in the United States, she became discouraged and very depressed. She had left a few of her children and a husband back in Africa, and she was unsure as to when her family would be together again.

Sister Oryang had learned of God back in her country and had faith in Him. One night she prayed. She prayed all night until the next morning, and all she said in her prayer was this: “Heavenly Father, I know I need a church. Will you please send me the right church first?”

In the morning there was a knock on the door. Her daughter answered the door and returned to her mother’s room. “Mother, you have visitors.”

Sister Oryang thought to herself, “I am a stranger in this country. How can I have visitors?” Seeing the young men at the door, she thought, “America is a strange place. Parents send their children outdoors with names on their shirts.”

The missionaries introduced themselves. Sister Oryang told them, “I have just finished my prayers, and I asked the Lord to send me the right church.” Of course the missionaries smiled with joy and stated that they were representatives of the right church.1

As Sister Oryang led the way into the living room, there was another knock on the door. It was a minister of another faith who lived across the street. He had been watching the family for the past week and thought this would be a good time to visit. Comparing this older gentleman to the missionaries, Sister Oryang wondered, “How can these young boys tell me anything about God?”

She led the minister into the kitchen. As he sat down, there was another knock at the door. Two older sisters of yet another faith had been proselytizing in the area and decided to knock on the Oryangs’ door!

Sister Oryang thought, “I have just finished my prayer, and I asked the Lord to send me the right church first.” She said good-bye to the minister and the two other sisters and listened intently to the missionaries. Within weeks Sister Oryang joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Other family members soon joined the Church as well.

Before the Oryang family joined the Church, the Tuskegee Branch had about 10 members attending each Sunday. Following Sister Oryang’s conversion—and through her example of faith and testimony—the branch grew in just nine months from 10 to more than 60 people attending church. And her son David became president of the Tuskegee Branch a few years later.

Sister Oryang, like others, was blessed with the fullness of the everlasting gospel—a gift she shared with many.

A short history will illustrate this point: Isaac of Ghana returned honorably from his full-time mission with the desire to continue on the covenant path, and he knew that meant finding a young woman to whom he could be sealed in the temple. He came to know Edema, a wonderful returned missionary from Nigeria. The two fell in love and wanted to be sealed in the Ghana Accra Temple. Isaac did not have a job, and Edema’s extended family presented a list. Isaac’s parents were both deceased, and his uncle forbade him from getting married, telling him that he was crazy to think of marriage when he did not even have a job. Isaac prayed about what to do and heard these words spoken to his mind: “You should not fear man more than God.” So, he went to his uncle and told him that he respected him, but that he respected God more and would put God first. So, he and Edema decided to be sealed and set the date. Then, miracles began to happen. Isaac was offered a job. With the help of Edema’s mother, they did not need to be concerned about the list. They were sealed in the temple and are happy in their marriage.

In this short history, we see that Isaac and Edema faced strong opposition and difficult trials. Because they had decided to put God first, the opposition they faced became an opportunity to choose the right. Once they moved forward in faith, they had hope, the expectation of good things to come; the miracles followed.

I know of a young man who, as a Christian trying one church after another, could not find one that had a prophet. Only among the Jewish people did he find mention of prophets, and so he accepted the Jewish religion.
In the summer of 1964 he went to New York City and visited the World’s Fair. He entered the Mormon Pavilion and saw pictures of the prophets of the Old Testament. His heart warmed within him as he heard the missionaries speak with appreciation of these great men of ages past through whom Jehovah revealed His will.
Then as he progressed through the pavilion, he heard of modern prophets—Joseph Smith and others who were called prophets, seers, and revelators. Something stirred within him. His spirit responded to the testimony of the missionaries. He was baptized and later served a mission in South America, where he made many converts. Since returning home, he has become the means of bringing his family and others into the Church. It is heartwarming to hear him testify that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God, as were all who have succeeded him in this high and sacred calling.

When Ulisses was 15, his bishop asked him to teach a youth Sunday School class. One lesson he taught centered on gaining a testimony of the gospel. Ulisses had studied the Book of Mormon, always felt that the Church was true, and believed in the Savior Jesus Christ.

As he prepared his lesson, he wanted to strongly testify to his class of the gospel’s truthfulness. “I studied and prayed fervently,” Elder Soares recalls. “After I knelt down, there came to my heart a very sweet feeling, a small voice that confirmed to me that I was on the right path. It was so strong that I could never say that I didn’t know.”

Jared Womack, of Franklin, Idaho, knows what team spirit is all about. After managing the Preston High School football team for five years, he received his letter in the sport. Jared also plays basketball and is a great example of good sportsmanship; he is always cheering for his teammates on the basketball team and finding ways to serve those around him.
“That’s just Jared,” says one classmate.
Although Jared has Down’s Syndrome, he is able to participate in school activities and hold an after-school job at a local grocery store. Jared is active in his priests quorum and blesses the sacrament regularly.

Have you ever heard of Dr. Norman Borlaug? Relatively few have, although he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1970. Recently, at the age of 93, he was given the Congressional Gold Medal.

The Wall Street Journal recently carried an editorial on him, but I have not seen his name in any other publication. The Wall Street Journal pays him this remarkable compliment: “He has arguably saved more lives than anyone in history. Maybe one billion” (“Borlaug’s Revolution,” Wall Street Journal, 17 July 2007, A16).

Think of that for a moment. Then unroll the scroll inscribed with the names of the great benefactors of mankind.

Dr. Borlaug first came to notice when in 1944 Mexico was in the throes of a famine. Stem rust, a fungus, was devastating the cropland. The doomsayers, of whom there are always many, predicted starvation.

But Dr. Borlaug rolled up his sleeves and went to work. He developed a new strain of rust-resistant wheat. He worked on fertilizers and irrigation. A miracle happened. The harvest became so great that farmers began to market their wheat internationally.

He then turned his attention to Pakistan and India. In China, the Philippines, and Indonesia he did for rice what he had done for wheat in Mexico. He is one of the great pioneer scientists of our time, largely unknown and unsung.

I have never met him. I suppose I never will. The only things I know about him are what I have included after reading the Wall Street Journal’s brief editorial. But with that meager knowledge, I salute him and honor him. The whole world is in his debt.

Desi squinted at her book, trying to focus on the story. It was hard when her four-year-old sister, Libby, was playing on Desi’s bed.
“Mom!” Desi called. “Will you please make Libby get out of our room?”
“Is she bothering you that much?” Desi’s older sister, Claire, asked from the top bunk bed.
“Yes, she is bothering me,” Desi said.
Mom came in and knelt down next to Libby.
“Honey,” she said, “your sisters are trying to read, and it’s almost time for bed. Let’s go to your room, and I’ll read you a story.”
“But I want to sleep with my sisters,” Libby said.
“I know,” Mom said. “But you need to sleep in your room.”
Mom picked up Libby and carried her out of the room. Libby started crying. Desi frowned. She wasn’t trying to make Libby cry! Sometimes Libby acted like such a baby. Why couldn’t she be fun to play with, like Claire?
Libby had been asking to sleep in their room for days now, but they never let her. They didn’t let Libby do a lot with them. No wonder she was so sad, Desi realized.
“Claire,” Desi said, “I feel kind of bad for Libby.”
Claire leaned out over the bunk bed to look at her. “You’re the one who wanted her to leave.”
“I know,” said Desi. “But I think we should do something for her.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Desi put her head back on her pillow and tried to focus on her book.
That night Desi kept thinking about Libby. What could they do that was extra special? Suddenly she had it. They could have a sisters’ sleepover party for her!
The next morning Desi told Claire and Mom about her idea. They loved it, and Mom said they could have the party that night!
At lunchtime Claire wrote a short message on a piece of pink paper. She rolled it up and tied it with a purple ribbon. Desi slipped it onto Libby’s plate.
“What’s this?” Libby asked when she found it. She pulled off the ribbon and unrolled the paper. She handed it to Mom to read.
“Dear Libby,” Mom read, “you are invited to a party in our room tonight. Wear your pajamas and bring your doll. Love, Claire and Desi.”
Libby smiled big. “I’m going to a party!”
Desi was excited too.
After dinner Claire and Desi ran to their room. Soon Libby knocked on the door.
“Princess Libby!” Desi said, opening the door. “Please come in and sit on your royal throne.”
She led Libby to a chair decorated with colorful streamers.
“We now present the Princess Award to Libby Jackson,” Desi said. She handed Libby a sparkly seashell while Claire clapped and cheered.
“And now we shall play the Princess’s favorite game!” Desi said.
“Can I pick any game at all?” Libby asked.
“Yup!” Claire said.
Libby ran to her room and came back with her favorite board game. The three girls sat down to play together.
Normally Desi thought Libby’s games were for babies, but she was actually having fun. She even liked reading Libby’s favorite stories together.
After Mom turned off their light, Libby and Desi snuggled together in Desi’s bed. Desi was too happy to fall asleep right away. Making Libby smile and laugh was so much fun! She couldn’t wait to play with her sisters tomorrow. Both of them.

I am not very keen in statistics, but as far as I know, our Kolkata Branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is one of the smallest branches in India. Despite having few members, we always have high spirits—especially at Christmas when we celebrate the birth of our Savior.
This year, however, we were upset because no missionaries were assigned here in Kolkata, as we had hoped. It was November. We had been fasting and praying together. At last, we realized that maybe it was still not the time according to our Heavenly Father’s plan and decided to have the Christmas party on Sunday, 23 December. We had limited time and many things to arrange. We prayed and started making the arrangements together. We did the shopping, visited the restaurants, invited our friends and families, and decorated the church.
On the 23rd, we started with prayer and partaking of the sacrament followed by Christmas hymns and testimonies. After that, we had games and food. The day was filled with joy and happiness and many queries from friends about our Church. At the end of the day, though we were exhausted physically, our minds were overflowing with glorious warm feelings. I looked around and there was not a single disappointed face there. Every member seemed to be infused with new hope and courage. I quietly stood there as my mind was washed with the light of the new knowledge that we had been rewarded with many gifts on this celebration of our beloved Savior’s birth. The treasured blessings of joy turned into gratitude, happiness turned into hope, and smiles turned into courage.

Please allow me to reminisce for a few moments and share a few of the lessons I learned from my mother about teaching the gospel in the home. My mother understood the value of teaching her children about standards, values, and doctrine while they were young. While she was grateful to others who taught her children outside the home at either school or church, she recognized that parents are entrusted with the education of their children and, ultimately, parents must ensure that their children are being taught what their Heavenly Father would have them learn. My siblings and I were quizzed very carefully by our mother after we had been taught away from the home to be certain the correct lessons were reaching our ears and shaping our minds.
I used to think some days as I ran home from school that I was through learning for the day, but this illusion was quickly destroyed when I saw my mother standing at the door waiting for me. When we were young, we each had a desk in the kitchen where we could continue to be taught by her as she performed household duties and prepared supper. She was a natural teacher and far more demanding of us than our teachers at school and church.
The scope of Mother’s teaching included both secular and spiritual lessons. She made sure none of us were falling behind in our schoolwork, which she would often supplement. She also would practice her Relief Society lessons with us. We, of course, received the unabridged versions found in her notebooks, not the abridged versions that had to fit in a single class period.
Part of our learning at home also involved memorizing scriptures, including the Articles of Faith, and the words of prophets, seers, and revelators. My mother was someone who believed a mind would become weak if it was not constantly exercised. She taught us as we would wash the dishes, churn the butter, and help in many other ways. She did not believe in letting idle thoughts enter her children’s minds, even when they were engaged in physical labor.

Another time I had a great learning experience. It was a very busy day when all of our ten children were living at home. Somehow my day had gotten away from me. The dinner hour was near, and I recalled some sound advice my mother had given me: “You plan ahead, and you get your simple nutritious meals going early in the day. You know the children will be hungry before the dinner hour. Use some common sense. Sometimes you may have to feed them early.” This advice had been overlooked that day.
I hastily moved into action. The assigned children on meal preparation came to my aid, and soon dinner was underway. I heard the hum of a busy household and then an unusual sound in another room. I found two of the younger children having a difference of opinion. I suggested that each could sit on a chair and think things over. The younger one looked at me in defiance and said, “You not in charge of me!” I was a bit taken aback, but I just quietly drew him aside and calmly explained that Heavenly Father had temporarily assigned me to love and to care for him. It took only a few more sentences, and he climbed up on the chair to think.
Soon the dinner bell rang, and we all sat up to the table. I learned the value of prompt meals. I had been part of the problem that day. Yes, the crisis was over but the learning was not. As I recall, our next family home evening lesson was on obedience.

Number five on President McKay's list: "he will have no interest in how you earned your living, but were you honest in your dealings." There is so much I could say about honesty, fairness, and avoiding sharp practices. I will leave that for another day. When I think of honesty, I think of my friend Oscar Wegner, now deceased. Let me tell you a story about him:

When I was with Brother Wegner, I always felt that I was in the presence of an elect man, one the Lord loved. At his funeral, his son Hart recounted his father's experience:

During World War II, the Wegner family was living in Breslau, East Germany, actually Silesia, at the time. They were members of the church. The Soviet armies were rapidly approaching and Brother Wegner made the decision to leave, which was an inspired decision. Many members of the church did not leave and they were subsequently destroyed along with their homes. He was the chief financial officer of a corporation. The money of the corporation and the food ration cards for its employees stayed behind in the safe when they fled, simply because it was not his to take! When the very structure of our nation crumbled, it was plain for everyone to see in late January 1945 that Germany would not survive. My father, (reports his son) made a house payment on the day before we fled, never to return, simply because the payment was due."

After finally getting to West Germany, having escaped East Germany under the most trying of circumstances, (Hart recounts an incredible tale of escape) he applied for immigration to America. Their names were placed on a long list. His son further recounts that when their names reached the top and they could have the long awaited immigration visas, his father, at 57 years of age, accepted a call to serve a mission. His sense of honesty would not allow him to ask for an early release, which he surely would have received. He had promised to serve the Lord for two years and two years the Lord should have. Oscar Wegner is what I think of when I think of honesty and integrity. Would I do the same? Would you?

Twice a year, before the sun came up on Saturday morning, the youth from the East Shores (Michigan) Ward would pile into cars and vans. For the next four or five hours they would sleep, sing, play games, and anticipate their destination: the Toronto Ontario Temple. They would spend the afternoon doing temple work, then pile back in the vehicles and arrive home late in the evening.
Now the East Shores youth travel to the temple six times each year, but the travel time has been cut to about 25 minutes since the Detroit Michigan Temple was dedicated in October 1999.

Blessings
When President Gordon B. Hinckley gave the dedicatory prayer at the Detroit Michigan Temple, he prayed that the people who performed the temple work, as well as those who had passed away, would be blessed. With the temple so close, the East Shores youth have had plenty of opportunities to experience the blessings of temple work.
Many of the East Shores youth were at the temple when President Hinckley gave the dedicatory prayer. At that time, they had many expectations of what it would be like to have a temple so close. Now, more than a year later, they are looking back to see if their expectations were met.

Great expectations
When the Detroit temple was announced, Jessica Ellison, an East Shores Mia Maid, could hardly wait. “I remember the exciting feeling of knowing there would be a temple closer and we’d get a lot more chances to go.”
Michael Oniones, a teacher, shared in the excitement. “I knew it would be a lot easier to do the things we used to do at Toronto and other temples because it would be in our own backyard. We could go whenever we wanted.”
Jessica and Michael got their wish.
“We go every other month now,” says Erin Coons, a Mia Maid. “The Young Men and the Young Women switch; the girls go one month, and the next month the boys go.”
This is quite a change from the twice-a-year trip to Canada. But even though the temple is so close, the East Shores youth say going there is like entering another world.

Coming together
Although the greatest expectation the youth had was to attend the temple more often, they have been flooded with other blessings.
In the temple, sacred work is performed that connects families through the generations. The East Shores youth say that, as they work in the temple together, they forge strong bonds with each other.
“You get to know the girls in your ward better because you go together,” Erin says.
The friendship the Young Men and Young Women develop as they attend the temple is stronger than with their other friends because of the important work they do in the temple.
“There aren’t many people you get to share such a spiritual thing with,” says Krista Lyke, a Laurel. “There’s a bond with those girls that you don’t have with your outside-church friends.”
A missionary now
One blessing that wasn’t expected by the East Shores youth was the opportunity the temple would present for sharing the gospel. But when a granite building with a gold angel appears on one of the main streets in town, people ask questions.
Erin took two of her friends through the temple during the open house.
“Even though they weren’t extremely interested in learning more,” Erin says, “it just felt nice to share with them what I believe in.”
A greater respect
The Detroit temple is one of the new, smaller temples. Since there is minimal staff, those attending are expected to help keep it clean. This means that when the youth finish with baptisms, they wipe around the baptismal font, help do the laundry, and make sure everything is left in order.
“It makes it more personal to you because you’ve taken care of it,” Jessica says.
Some of the cleaning responsibilities may not seem very pleasant, like cleaning the bathrooms. But, as Mike says, since it’s the temple, it’s a privilege, not a chore. “If you clean the bathroom, people may not think that’s so great,” Mike says, “but still, you’re cleaning the bathroom in the temple, and even to be in the temple is a great thing.”
Challenges
When Moses was leading the Children of Israel through the wilderness, fiery flying serpents came down and bit them. After they had been bitten, the Lord presented a way for them to be healed. All they had to do was look at a serpent on Moses’ staff (Num. 21:8–9). “And because of the simpleness of the way, or the easiness of it, there were many who perished” (1 Ne. 17:41).
Since the Detroit temple has been built, the East Shores youth say it is quite easy to attend. But as it was with the people who died from the fiery serpents because the cure was so easy, it is also easy to say, “The temple is close by; I can go any time; I’ll skip this month and go next month.”
“We have to go to the temple on Tuesday or Thursday because we save the weekends for other stakes and wards that aren’t close,” says Krista. “So you have to change your priorities, because, if you’re in sports and you have a practice, you have to decide what’s more important, your practice or going to the temple.”
“Life doesn’t stop for you,” says Chris Young, a teacher. “Being closer to the temple does make it easier, but you still have to plan for it.”
Blessings closer to home
The East Shores youth say they are enjoying the blessings President Hinckley prayed for in the dedicatory prayer. One of the things he prayed for was that the temple would “shine as a bright and welcome light, a refuge from the storms and stresses of the world.”
Jessica, like the rest of the youth, says the temple has done that. “When you get to go, you don’t have to worry about anything. You feel so calm and special, and you don’t have the worldly matters to deal with anymore.”
As more temples are built around the world, more youth are enjoying the blessings and feelings of the Spirit that come with frequent temple attendance. “I feel that feeling more now,” says Mike. “Before we had to go far, to Canada. And now that the temple is closer, the feeling is closer.”
“There are many areas of the Church that are remote, where the membership is small and not likely to grow very much in the near future. Are those who live in these places to be denied forever the blessings of the temple ordinances? While visiting such an area a few months ago, we prayerfully pondered this question. The answer, we believe, came bright and clear” (Ensign, Nov. 1997, 49).
—President Gordon B. Hinckley
“‘Come to the temple.’ If not now, come soon. Pray fervently, set your lives in order, save whatever you can in hopes that that day may come. … The temple transforms the individual and makes abundantly worthwhile any efforts made to get there. For some who live at great distances from a temple, the temples will come to you before you might come to them. Keep your faith and your hope and determine that you will come—that you will be worthy and that you will come to the temple” (The Holy Temple, pamphlet, 1982, 1).
—President Boyd K. PackerActing President of the Quorum of the Twelve

I want to share my testimony about prayer. When I was around thirteen years old back in Brazil, on a Sunday morning I went to church and went to my Sunday School class. My Sunday School teacher invited us to pray for 30 minutes that day. When he made that invitation, at first I thought, "Oh, we don't need to be timing, counting the minutes of our prayers. The prayers, it doesn't matter if it's five or twenty minutes; it needs to be made with our heart." But at the same moment, I had a big, a huge desire to accept his invitation.
So I went back home, and later in the afternoon that Sunday, I decided to go to my room, close the door, look at the clock, and then get on my knees and start to pray. Since I had a long time to pray, I started first by saying to Heavenly Father all the things that I was grateful for. Then I started to talk to Heavenly Father about my feelings, my desires, my fears, and who I want to become.
I felt during that prayer that my prayer made it to heaven. It was the first time in my life that I felt that. While the Spirit was so strong, after I finished my prayer, I looked at the clock and saw that I went over thirty minutes. After that day, I never again counted the minutes of my prayers, but I knew after that day, and I know, that our prayers can make it to heaven.

Several years ago, two Latter-day Saint missionaries visited me in Marshall, Texas. But I politely told them I wasn’t interested. I was afraid that I didn’t know enough about the Bible to be able to judge what they were telling me, and I had a great fear that they would ask me to pray. They left a Book of Mormon with me. But when I opened it and saw names that I had never heard before—such as Lehi, Nephi, and Alma—I immediately closed it, put it on a shelf in the closet, and forgot all about it.
As the years went by, I hardly gave religion or spiritual matters a thought. But one night I became troubled with the way I was living my life. “If there really is a God,” I thought, “I want to know it.” I decided to make an honest effort to find out and felt the best place to start was the scriptures.
I started studying the New Testament and attending a Protestant church. I enjoyed what I learned there, but something bothered me. In Ephesians 4:5 [Eph. 4:5], we read of one Lord, one faith, and one baptism—yet I had friends of various faiths who seemed content with their different beliefs. I wondered how they could all be right. When I mentioned this to them, they just laughed. “It doesn’t matter what you believe,” they said, “as long as you accept Christ as your personal Savior.”
I didn’t feel comfortable with that concept and tried to find the answer in the scriptures. But I wasn’t getting any answers, and I became upset. Why didn’t the Bible just say which church was right? Next I went to the encyclopedia to see if I could find the answer there. If I learned when different churches were organized, I reasoned, maybe that would help. Again, I was disappointed.
Then one day I found the book I had put on the closet shelf years before. And I began to read it. This time I found it interesting—so interesting that I began to tell my friends at work about it. Whether I was at home, at work, or at a movie, I couldn’t get it off my mind.
When I reached the point where I had to know if the book was really of God or of the devil, I considered praying about it but was afraid of being deceived. Then I read the scripture in Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]where we’re told to pray about what we have read in the Book of Mormon. I was still afraid the answer might come from Satan, but then a biblical scripture came to mind that alleviated that worry:
“What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?
“Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?” (Matt. 7:9–10). I know that the answer that later came was indeed from God.
After having read and studied for a good while, I thought, “I wonder if my minister would like to hear about this book.” I was sure he didn’t know about it because he had never mentioned it. To my surprise, he wasn’t interested. “Clifford,” he said, “evidently you don’t feel as if you’ve ever been saved.” So we knelt in his office and prayed. When we arose from our knees, he looked at me as if to say, “Now everything is okay.”
I said, “I don’t feel any differently now than I did when we knelt.”
“Don’t you believe in the scriptures that say that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord Jesus Christ shall be saved?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but I can’t help how I feel.” I left, miserable. I felt I had failed because I couldn’t make him understand what I was feeling about the Book of Mormon.
I continued to read and study. Sometimes I’d have to stop. I can’t describe the mental anguish I suffered during those days. I had to know if this book was true. I would go to the Bible, then to the Book of Mormon—back and forth, study and compare.
I decided to talk to my minister again. At one point during the lengthy discussion, I asked him what happens to people who die without ever hearing the gospel of Jesus Christ. He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Clifford, they die and go to hell.” Again, I was very depressed when I left him.
Then one day I remembered that the missionaries who had given me the Book of Mormon had told me that the local Latter-day Saint branch president owned a business in town and that if I ever had any questions, I could go to him. I visited President Murray Conley, asked some questions, and was pleased with his answers.
Later, some members of my church visited me and informed me that I was being misled. The next night, the minister and his wife came to visit. But when I asked him to explain Malachi 4:5–6 [Mal. 4:5–6], he got angry and told me I had been brainwashed by the Mormons and there was nothing more he could do.
One night I read 3 Nephi 14:13–14: “Enter ye in at the strait gate; for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, which leadeth to destruction, and many there be who go in thereat;
“Because strait is the gate, and narrow the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.” [3 Ne. 14:13–14]
I got up from my chair and walked outside. Alone in the darkness, I could see myself standing at that narrow scriptural gate, pacing back and forth, afraid to go in. I realized at that moment that I had found the way. The Lord spoke to me that night, not as we speak to one another, but with a still, small voice that said, “What are you going to do about it?”
I went back to tell President Conley I wanted to be baptized. But he was in Salt Lake City. Thinking that only the branch president had the authority to baptize, I left, intending to return a week later.
During that week, Satan placed another stumbling block in my path—more doubts. “Do I have to start all over again?” I wondered. After struggling with my doubts for three days, I started reading a book President Conley had given me—Truth Restored, by President Gordon B. Hinckley. As I did, the Spirit, which had borne witness to me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, also bore witness to me that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the Lord’s true church.
When President Conley returned from Salt Lake City, I told him I wanted to be baptized. As we drove to Gilmer, Texas, for my baptism on 19 October 1970, I asked him, “Do I understand correctly from what I have read in the scriptures that just because I’m being baptized, I’m not saved, but that I have to endure to the end?”
He said, “That’s exactly right.”
I cried all the way to my baptism. I felt very strongly that the Church was true. After baptism, I felt it ten times more strongly.
Many times after, I wondered, “Why me? Why do I know the truth while many good Christian people don’t?” And a scripture always came to my mind, “Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you” (Luke 11:9).
Several weeks after I was baptized, I had the privilege of receiving a witness of the Holy Ghost once again, stronger than before. One morning at about 3:00 A.M., I sat up in bed with tears streaming down my face. The Holy Ghost was bearing such a powerful witness to me of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and of the Church that I felt like saying, “Please, Lord, no more, no more. I know it’s true.”
I do know with all my heart and soul that the Book of Mormon is true. It led me to the living God, to his Son Jesus Christ, and to his church guided by a living prophet.

I wanted to let you know that “And the Winner Is …” (September 1991) was the answer to my prayers. For several months I’ve been training for the cross-country team to get in shape. As the season began, I realized I was much slower than my teammates. I wanted to quit, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did, so I asked Heavenly Father for encouragement.
When I read Brother DeHaan’s article, I knew I had received my answer. Now I read it whenever I have doubts about my performance on the team.
Meredith QuinnPasadena, California

I think the most classical account illustrating this point is the great story of President Hugh B. Brown and the currant bush. There are several versions of this story, but let me tell it the way that I remember it from the time I translated it for President Brown in South America. He said that, when he was a young married man, he lived in a humble home, but he had a garden in front of the home that he was very proud of. This garden had a lawn and flowers; it had some shrubs and fruit bushes, and it had some trees, large trees for shade. One day he noticed the currant bush, which he had pruned to a certain shape in order to keep the majority of the strength of the tree in the roots and to produce good fruit, had lost its shape. Apparently several months had gone by without due attention to it, and it was sprouting irregular branches. He got the pruning shears and proceeded to cut back the branches of that currant bush. As he cut them, he seemed to hear the bush say to him, “Oh, don’t do that, don’t do that to me! Don’t cut me back. I want to be tall and big like the shade trees. Let me grow!”

And he said, “No, my little bush, I’m the gardener here, and I want to prune you back to the size that I have decided is right for you.”

A number of years later President Brown was a colonel in the British Forces in World War I in France. He was the ranking colonel of the Canadian forces. He had decided to make the military career his life’s profession. He had studied hard; he had worked hard. He had had great success; he had been promoted and advanced. He was now colonel, and the next position would be general. In fact, he dreamed of being perhaps the first Mormon general since Book of Mormon days. A sudden vacancy occurred, and it was his turn to be promoted. He knew it, and yet they called him in and advised him that someone else was being promoted over his head. He wondered if it was because they had never had a Mormon general and probably were now deciding that they would not have a Mormon in that position of rank and authority. He returned to his tent, knelt by his cot, and cried to the Lord, “Why couldn’t my prayers have been answered? I’ve been faithful to my covenants. I’ve been active in the Church. I’ve done all the things I should do to merit this promotion. It’s been my ambition. There’s no reason why I should have been denied this. Why couldst Thou not have answered my prayers?”

And then he seemed to hear a voice saying, “I’m the gardener here, and I’m going to prune you to the size that I want you to be in my garden.”

Do we have the trust in the Lord that we can see His purposes fulfilled even in disappointment and in discouragement? Not to say anything against the military profession, of course, which is noble and honorable and much needed, but had President Brown followed that particular career, I doubt that he would have developed those characteristics, qualities, attributes, and skills which made him one of our greatest apostles, one of our greatest counselors in the First Presidency, one of the most eloquent orators that we ever have had in the Church.

I can remember when I first discovered that the thoughts inside my head came to me as pictures. From a young age, I found that it was easier for me and more natural for me to express myself visually rather than practically. For example, if you asked me how I felt about a certain food, I might tell you that donuts taste like sunshine and that salads tastes like sadness. When something is yellow, my mind instinctively conjures the image of a lemon. And as a result, when discussing ideas and concepts related to that color, my thoughts often lead me to associations with citrus. What I initially thought was just a personal quirk over time revealed itself to be a gift that I came to recognize was deeply connected to my love of reading and writing. As a young woman, I would spend hours writing short stories that not only eventually helped me to learn how to express myself better but also allowed me to cultivate my love of words. Words weren’t just tools for clear communication in my native language; they were also the way to convey the emotion of my meaning because, for me, words always carried the power to paint vivid pictures. My hope was always that by using sensory or illustrative language I could help others understand the message I was trying to share.
Later in life when I embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ, I discovered that this gift opened the way for the highest and most joyful expression of my ability to communicate. I realized that my voice, my thoughts, and my feelings were expressed most authentically when I used them for two sacred purposes: first, to bear witness of my love and devotion to Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ; and second, to express my love and care to others. I have felt the Lord’s Spirit and His power in my life as I share my witness of Him and His gospel. As I seek to use my gifts with even greater purpose, I find that the Savior guides me closer to Him and helps me realize that my gift is not accidental, nor incidental.

I remember sitting in a college class, and learning from my professor Stephen R. Covey about one of the seven habits. "Seek to understand, and then be understood". I loved that concept then, but even more so now as I read from his son’s book "The Speed of Trust" and the story he wrote about his parents that teaches an important lesson about misunderstanding.

Stephen and Sandra Covey were returning from their cabin in Montana. Stephen felt he was too tired to drive, so Sandra took the wheel while he slept in the backseat of the car.

After a couple of hours, Sandra pulled over to take her turn to sleep. They opened the car doors and got out to make the switch. Stephen slipped into the driver’s seat, and as Sandra was about to shut his door and go to the back, she suddenly remembered that their new car had a special feature that allowed people to raise or lower the chassis for convenience. Because of her bad knee, she said to Stephen, "Please lower the car so I can get in easier," and she slammed the doors so he could do it.

Almost immediately, Sandra was surprised to see the car move forward. Thinking Stephen was pretending to leave her she started chasing after the car. Suddenly, the car sped up, and she was left standing alone on the side of the freeway in winter with no coat and stocking feet.

A man in another car had seen Stephen drive off and doing his civic duty, called the highway patrol and reported that he had just seen a man abandon a woman on the side of the road. Soon, a patrol car pulled up to Sandra, and the patrolman asked her what had happened.

She then explained that her husband left her, but said, "He probably doesn't know that he did. I don't think he heard me when I asked him to lower the chassis"

Suspecting abuse the patrolman asked if they had an argument.

"No" Sandra said, "I'm sure he thinks I'm asleep in the backseat."

Sandra then remembered that Stephen had a cell phone with him and the officer, still skeptical about the situation, called it.

"Mr. Covey, this is the highway patrol. You need to pull over immediately, and I need to know your exact location."

Confused as to how the highway patrol had his cell phone number he said, "Let me wake up my wife, and I'll ask her. "Mr. Covey!" the patrolman said loudly into the phone. "Your wife isn’t there."

"She’s just asleep in the backseat," Stephen replied impatiently. "Wait! I’ll pull over and wake her up."

"She’s in the car with me!" The patrolman replied. "With you? Well, how did she get there?"

"You left her on the side of the road a while ago."

"What?" he said incredulously. "You mean she didn’t get in? Oh, I can’t believe it! I wondered why she was so quiet!"

Within a few minutes Stephen was able to retrieve Sandra from the police car. They all had a good laugh as they retrieved from memory the things that had happened. And finally they all understood what had gone on.

We shouldn’t try to force spiritual things.71 If we try to, we may rely on emotions that mimic spiritual promptings but are not. These emotions may include sentimentality, awe, empathy, excitement—or raging hormones.

Similarly, it is an advanced spiritual skill to know that revelation has not been received and to be prompted not to act. I know a Relief Society president, Sister Jones,72 whose first counselor moved out of the ward and needed to be released. Sister Jones felt inspired to recommend that her second counselor be called as her first counselor but didn’t feel prompted to recommend a new second counselor. The bishop encouraged her to consider several qualified sisters. She gave prayerful consideration, but affirmative confirmation didn’t come, and she knew it. So she waited, and she knew that she should wait.

Two weeks later, a relatively new convert, Sister Brown,73 moved into the ward. Sister Jones now felt a prompting to recommend that Sister Brown be interviewed by the bishop and, if he felt a spiritual confirmation, that she be called as the second counselor.

Sister Brown was called and served for several years as a counselor to Sister Jones—not only helping significantly but learning from Sister Jones and the experienced first counselor. Upon Sister Jones’s release, Sister Brown was called to be the new ward Relief Society president. I am grateful that Sister Jones did not force a conclusion prematurely and instead had become sufficiently spiritually mature to know that revelation hadn’t been received and that she had been prompted to wait on the Lord.

Our family recently enjoyed a memorable vacation in the eastern United States. The journey began in New York City, with its bright lights, baseball, and theatre. After a quick stop at Niagara Falls, we set our sights on Church history. We visited Harmony, Palmyra, and Kirtland and then gathered together for one last family meeting before departing for home. Everyone was invited to share a memorable experience. After several family members had shared, our granddaughter Maggie said, "My favorite place was the Sacred Grove." I asked her if she would like to tell us why. She was quiet for a moment. We could tell by her expression that she was deep in thought. Her sweet mom recognized that she was struggling and encouraged her, saying, "Sometimes it's hard to find the right words, isn't it?" Maggie replied, "Yes, it is. I don't know how to explain it. It's just something I felt there."

It was something she felt—something she couldn't describe in words. But with childlike faith, Maggie trusted the promptings of the Spirit that entered into her mind and heart in that sacred place.