Gospel Story Finder

Han Sang Ick of the Shin Dang Ward in Seoul knows that he has been richly blessed as a result of his obedience. Although his life has not taken the path he had originally planned, Brother Han says, “I am happier today than I ever imagined.”
A university drama student with aspirations to perform and teach, Brother Han was selected as student body president of the Latter-day Saint institute in Seoul. “All the prior presidents had served a mission,” he explains. “I found myself doing some serious thinking about whether I should serve a mission or not.”
Brother Han, baptized at age seventeen and the only member of the Church in his family, struggled with his family responsibilities. His father had died, and as the eldest son, he was responsible for his mother. “She really expected me to graduate, marry, and take care of her. That is the pattern established through the years.”
Instead, Brother Han graduated, arranged for his mother to be taken care of, and, at age twenty-six, became a full-time missionary. “And of course, that was the right decision,” he concludes. “My mother was blessed, and I established a pattern of righteous decisions.”

I grew up in a small town in Canada. When I was 13, my father lost his job and our family relocated to Edmonton in order to survive. A few months after we moved to the city, my mother and father had a violent argument, resulting in my mother being hospitalized for six months. After a time, she allowed my father back into our household. This devastated me, and I turned to alcohol and drugs to escape the anger welling up inside.
At precisely this time, the missionaries found me. As I met families in the local ward, I was impressed with the respect the spouses had for one another and the affection parents showed their children. At age 16 I was baptized.
My first year of membership demonstrated that I would have to endure some growing pains. I had left behind the friendships and lifestyle that had served as my escape from the violence in my home. Unfortunately, my ward did not seem to offer the comfort of new friendships to fill in the gaps. I didn’t feel accepted and was ready to return to my old way of life when a missionary challenged me to stay true to my baptismal covenants. I reluctantly recommitted myself, but I felt as though I was hanging on to a rope that was slipping through my fingers.
Soon afterward I was called to be Laurel class president. I felt very inadequate; there were several Laurels in the ward who were far more qualified. When my new calling was announced, one of the girls in the ward expressed her dissatisfaction. “How could they call you?” she said. “You hardly attend church. What do you know?”
She was right; I didn’t know anything. I felt sure my calling would drive many of the Laurels to inactivity—including me. The whole situation seemed too much to bear. If anyone was at the end of her rope, I was.
When I met with my class adviser, Marlene Evans, I told her that someone had made a huge error. However, she assured me that I had been called for a reason. She began to work tirelessly with me, and I went to her home on a regular basis to learn my responsibilities. With her encouragement, I could eventually conduct a meeting without my knees knocking together.
Once Sister Evans gave me a card that read, “When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.” She indicated that the rope represented life, and that by not taking righteous actions, we let life slip through our fingers. The knot represented the decision to hang on to the gospel and the security it brings.
I remembered that lesson throughout the coming months. I was attending high school full-time in addition to taking correspondence courses. I was working evenings and Saturdays. I paid for my own tuition, fees, books, clothes, and room and board. There were many times I felt I was at the end of my rope. Was I a super kid, doing it all and by myself? No, but I tied a knot and held on.
Today, I am a university graduate, working as a social worker. I married in the temple and have four children. They have been to the temple and have served missions. And I have served in leadership positions in the Young Women organization. Each time I do, I take every opportunity I can to share Sister Evans’s message with the youth. Her caring and her message changed my life.
I wouldn’t have the abundant blessings I enjoy today if I hadn’t learned to tie a knot and hang on.

I used to share my testimony ever since I was small growing up, but it was like a routine for me to share it every fast and testimony Sunday. I knew all the commandments that I should keep, but it never really had great meaning in my life. Then I fasted and prayed about Joseph Smith and about whether he was indeed a prophet of God and translated the Book of Mormon. After much fasting and prayer, the Spirit confirmed in my heart that all these things were true. Now I’ve earned a testimony of my own and it is no longer a borrowed testimony.
Meradani R., 20, Fiji

“Isaac, Isaac.” It was his mother’s voice. “Your father needs you at the corral.”
Isaac raised his head and looked out the window. Sure enough, the sun was coming up, and that meant it was time for chores. Isaac stumbled out of bed and reached for his shirt. He could hear the oxen mooing.
As he went out the kitchen door, he saw Papa leading old Taurus through the gate.
“Where are you going so early, Papa?” Isaac asked.
“Just over to the fence. I need you to hold the grain bucket so Taurus will stand still.”
The ox bellowed, as if asking, “What is going on this morning?” But as Isaac held the bucket under his nose, Taurus calmed down and began licking up the grain with his long tongue. While the ox ate, Papa tied the halter rope securely to the fence.
When Mama stepped out the front door, Papa said, “I have a special project, Emeline. Will you please bring me the wide carpenter pencil from the desk?”
When Mama came back with the pencil, Papa laid some boards on the ground. Then, after looking carefully at Taurus, he began drawing on the smooth yellow wood.
“What are you doing, Papa?” Isaac asked.
“Brother Fordham and I have been given an important assignment for the temple,” Papa explained. “We are going to help make the 12 oxen statues to hold up the font in the baptistry. I am drawing the pattern, and Taurus is my model.”
Hearing his name, Taurus raised his head, then went back to his breakfast.
Isaac watched his father sketching long, wide lines. “That is beginning to look just like Taurus,” Isaac said. “But why did you choose him?”
“Because he is strong and the best ox I have ever seen. See how he stands? He seems to be aware of his importance. Taurus is obedient too.”
“This project is a very special calling, Papa. Isn’t it?”
“Yes, Son, it is. I am thankful I have been asked to help.”
Isaac stroked Taurus’s neck. He could feel the ox’s strong muscles. “What an honor for you, old boy,” he whispered.
Isaac finished his chores quickly. He even made his usual two dozen wooden clothespins faster than usual. He knew when he finished he would have time to do as he wished.
Today Isaac wanted to draw. His parents had given him permission to draw on the fireplace hearth, using pieces of charcoal from the burned logs. The charcoal washed off easily, and he could use it to make wide or narrow lines.
As Isaac drew Taurus, he thought about his father and the beautiful temple being built in Nauvoo. If Isaac was strong and obedient like Taurus, maybe the Lord would choose him to work on the temple, just like his father.

Not many people have seen the world from the same perspective that Richard Searfoss has. “There are no words to describe the beauty of the planet and the harmony of this place that was created for us,” says Brother Searfoss, pilot of the space shuttle Columbia. “While we were very busy in orbit, I would snatch moments and just gaze out of the window and gather it all in emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. The whole mission was professionally rewarding and spiritually humbling.”
And yet Brother Searfoss, a member of the League City Ward, Friendswood Texas Stake, notes, “While seeing the earth from orbit reinforced what I already believed, it didn’t add anything to it. There’s no need for people to go into space to gain a testimony.”
Brother Searfoss, a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Air Force, joined six others on the 14-day life-science research mission in October 1993, the longest shuttle orbit to date. As pilot, he was one of the primary crew members during the shuttle’s ascent and entry. While in space, he participated in numerous experiments, both as observer and subject. His duties also included earth observation, engineering tests, and navigational exercises.
Crew members worked 16-hour days and had little free time. However, Brother Searfoss fit a few gravity-free somersaults into his evening schedule along with a regular exercise routine assigned by doctors. He also managed to spend a few minutes every day reading scriptures, usually after breakfast. “We were allowed to carry a few personal items,” Brother Searfoss explains. “Most of us carried pictures; I hung the picture of my wife, Julie, and my daughters, Megan and Elizabeth, over my mid-deck locker. I also had a few of my favorite scriptures printed on cards.
“There were reverent moments up there,” he continues, “moments when my spirit was open to more important things than just day-to-day concerns.”
Brother Searfoss is already anticipating his future assignments. “I’m a career astronaut,” he notes. “I’m looking forward to being up there again.”

Such ward activities not only built positive relationships among members of the Church but also built positive relationships with everyone in the community.

“I remember one woman, not a member of the Church, who was new to the area,” David says. “She had been reduced to burning wood paneling from her home to keep warm. Once we learned about her plight, we made sure she had enough firewood to get through the winter. She was so thankful she could barely speak.”

Ministering efforts in Fredonia ensured that everyone stayed safe and warm through the winter.

Tony’s family lived in a two-bedroom apartment right in the middle of the city. His parents slept in one bedroom, and Tony and his little sister, Linda, slept in the other.
In the front room was an alcove. It was sort of like a closet without a door. Tony wanted to sleep in the alcove by himself, but his papa and mamma said no.
“We need you to take care of your sister. When Linda is older and no longer afraid of trains going past at night and shaking the house, you can move to the alcove,” they told him. “But not until then.”
“When will that be?” Tony asked. But no one could give him an answer.
Then one day a letter came from Tony’s grandfather. He was coming to stay with them.
“Where will Grandfather sleep?” Tony asked.
“In the alcove,” Papa answered.
“But that’s where I want to sleep,” Tony said.
“I’m sorry,” Mamma answered, “but Grandfather is old, and he needs his rest.”
“But, Mamma,” Tony said, “you always tell me that I am a growing boy and need rest too!”
“Yes, you do, Tony,” she said. “But the alcove isn’t the only place you can get it.”
Tony was happy Grandfather was coming to stay, but it was hard not to be upset about having him sleep in the alcove.
The afternoon that Grandfather arrived he asked Tony to go for a walk with him to the candy store. On the way they saw some boys playing ball on a vacant lot.
“Looks like a good baseball game,” Grandfather said.
“Oh, yes,” Tony said.
“Don’t you play baseball?” Grandfather asked him.
“I play in front of our apartment,” Tony said. “Mamma doesn’t like me to come down here by myself.”
“Well, you’re not by yourself now,” Grandfather said. “Let’s stop and play for a while. I’ll play in the outfield.”
Tony looked up at his tall grandfather. “You will?”
“Of course. What position do you play?”
“I’m a catcher,” Tony said.
“Then let’s play,” Grandfather said.
Both of them joined the game. Grandfather made two nice catches in left field and Tony hit a double.
Finally Grandfather wiped his forehead with his big red handkerchief. “I’m ready to go to the candy store now,” he said, “if that’s all right with you, Tony.”
“Okay,” Tony said. “We’re ahead thirty-five to two, and our team can get along without us now!”
Grandfather and Tony said goodbye to their friends and walked down the block.
The door of the candy store opened when Grandfather pushed on it, and a little bell tinkled. Inside it smelled like a mixture of licorice and peppermint.
Grandfather picked out some chocolates for Mamma and a lollipop for Linda. He told Tony to choose whatever he wanted.
Tony chose a piece of bubble gum with a baseball card inside the wrapper. The gum was dusted with sugar and crackled as Tony started chewing.
Tony had a wonderful afternoon with his grandfather, but at dinner that night he couldn’t help thinking about the alcove again.
Then Tony began to think about his own father growing old. Tony wondered if he would ask Papa to live with him even if his family had only a small apartment and Tony’s son had to sleep in a room with his little sister.
Tony looked up at his father’s strong, warm dark face. Suddenly he was filled with love for Papa. It was almost a sad kind of love, and it made his throat feel large and lumpy.
He stood up and went around the table. “Papa,” he said, “when you’re old and alone, I want you to come live with me.”
After dinner Grandfather pushed his chair back from the table. “Tony,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about the alcove.”
Grandfather put his long legs out in front of him. “Do you think these long legs could fit in the alcove?”
Tony looked at Grandfather’s legs. He did not know what to say.
“I think I’d better sleep on the couch,” Grandfather suggested, “and I think you should sleep in the alcove.”
“But what about Linda?” Tony asked. “She’s afraid of trains, so she can’t sleep alone.”
Everyone looked at Linda.
“I’ll tell Linda a story every night at bedtime,” Grandfather said, “if she will promise not to listen to the trains. Okay, Linda?”
Linda looked at him. “Every single night?” she asked.
“I, won’t miss one night!” Grandfather promised.
“Will it be a special story?” Linda asked.
“I’ll tell you a very special story every night,” Grandfather promised.
Tony looked at Grandfather’s legs again. He could fit in the alcove, Tony thought. He just says he couldn’t.
Suddenly some of that love he felt for Papa filled Tony’s heart for Grandfather too.

My husband’s sister Lilly, her husband, Robert, and their two children had come from the United States to visit us in Sweden, and I wanted to do something special. We decided to spend an afternoon at a water park. I felt it would be a safe activity since there would be four adults to watch the children.
But there must have been some misunderstanding about who was to look after Leonard, my five-year-old son. When we realized he was missing, we frantically began looking for him. Suddenly my husband, Henri, screamed, “Leonard has drowned!” Lilly, who is a trained lifeguard, dived into the pool, pulled him from the bottom, and immediately began resuscitation efforts.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. I wondered if my son was to be taken back to Heavenly Father. I prayed intensely for the Lord’s will to be done. In the middle of the chaos, Henri put his hands on Leonard’s head and gave him a blessing. During the short blessing, a burning feeling came over me. I have no words to explain it, but I know it was the Lord comforting me. I somehow knew that if I exercised faith, things would be all right. Just as Henri finished the blessing, Leonard took one breath.
The ambulance came and took Leonard to the hospital. He was still unconscious, and the doctors warned us that if he awoke from his coma, there would likely be brain damage. But I believed he could be healed if that was the Lord’s will. I concentrated on the task of having faith.
Two days later Leonard awoke—scared but well. Feelings of relief, happiness, and gratitude flooded over us. We had been blessed with a miracle through the power of the priesthood and through exercising our faith.

A woman in my ward taught me a priceless lesson about the sweet peace that comes from a sure faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement.
This woman’s patriarchal blessing promised her the joys of motherhood. But years passed while she and her husband prayed and waited for children. Finally, their prayers were answered. For nine months their lives were filled with joyous preparations. They painted a special room; bought furniture, clothes, and other baby supplies; and offered many prayers. The doctors said she would never be able to have another baby after this one, so her dreams were wrapped up in this child.
The day came when this sister gave birth and heard the cry of her baby.
“It’s a beautiful boy,” the nurse said.
The mother closed her eyes and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. Four minutes later, the baby was dead.
I saw her in sacrament meeting two weeks afterward. As the music director, she walked to the front of the chapel and took her seat beside the organ. Under her direction we sang “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, no. 136). She stood straight and tall, her face bright, her testimony radiating. At times the words came with great difficulty for her. She swallowed and pressed her lips together. Then she stopped singing, but her arm continued to move, conducting us as we sang.
Later, with tears coursing down her cheeks, this sister bore her testimony in these simple words: “I know that my Redeemer lives. I know that He is just and that He loves us. And because He lives, my son also lives.”
In her faith I saw an assurance of the reality of our Redeemer, whose Atonement for us makes immortality and eternal life possible. Her son had been taken, but she knew that he would be restored to her someday.

It was in March of 1878 that Aurelia first thought seriously of an organization for children, especially so little boys could be taught “everything good and how to behave.” She wanted desperately to help them and prayed that she might be shown a way. “I had a strong motivation within me,” she wrote in her history.
A few weeks later Sister Eliza R. Snow went to Farmington to meet with the Relief Society. She and Sister Emmeline B. Wells, who accompanied her, stopped at Aurelia’s home for a brief visit on their way to the depot to board a train back to Salt Lake. Sister Rogers discussed with them her concern over many of the boys, who she felt were not being properly taught the gospel nor the manners that would help them become good men. She asked if an organization to help them would ever be possible. We are told that Sister Snow was “silent for a few moments, then said there might be such a thing and that she would speak to the First Presidency about it.”
At that time John Taylor was president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the acting president of the Church, since a president had not yet been sustained by the Church membership after the death of Brigham Young. Sister Rogers talked with President Taylor who discussed the matter with other members of the Quorum of the Twelve, and they were inspired to write to Bishop John W. Hess of Farmington, asking him to call some women to be leaders. Sister Rogers was chosen to be the president. “Up to this period,” she said, “the girls had not been mentioned; but my idea was that the meeting would not be complete without them …” And so it was agreed.
Louisa Haight and Helen M. Miller were selected as counselors of the new organization to be called “Primary,” a name suggested by Sister Eliza R. Snow. Bishop Hess urged these women to visit every home in the area to invite the children to attend and to obtain their parents’ permission. Sister Rogers reported that they enrolled about 112 boys and 112 girls! The children together with all members of the ward, were asked to attend a public meeting on Sunday, August 11, 1878, when these women, and others, were set apart by Bishop Hess and his counselors to preside over a Primary at Farmington.
Bishop Hess was most helpful, often attending Primary himself or delegating other priesthood holders to do so. In a letter written shortly after the organization of the First Primary, Sister Snow wrote encouragingly:
“I feel assured that the inspiration of heaven is directing you, and that a great and very important movement is being inaugurated for the future of Zion … The angels and all holy beings, especially the leaders of Israel on the other side of the veil, will be deeply interested.”
Sister Rogers’ records that were so miraculously saved from the fire report that the children were called together for the very first Primary on August 25, 1878. This is how she described the Primaries that followed:
“When the children came to understand the motives which prompted the calling of their little meetings, they seemed elated with what was being done for them. Obedience, faith in God, prayer, punctuality and good manners were subjects oft repeated. At these meetings, the whole association would generally take part in the exercises. The smaller children were seated on the front benches, the rest according to size. At the proper time the smallest would rise up and perhaps, recite a verse or two in concert, then sit down and the next bench-full take their turn in answering Bible questions. Another class would sing a song; another would repeat sentiments or verses, one at a time, and so on.
“… The next spring we rented a town lot and the Primary Association planted beans and popcorn to go with the Relief Society wheat in the time of famine which is to come.”

Last January, seven-year-old Sailor Gutzler and her family were flying from Florida to Illinois in a private airplane. Sailor’s father was at the controls. Just after nightfall, the aircraft developed mechanical problems and crashed in the pitch-dark hills of Kentucky, upside down in very rough terrain. Everyone but Sailor died in the accident. Her wrist was broken in the crash. She suffered cuts and scrapes and had lost her shoes. The temperature was 38 degrees Fahrenheit (or 3 degrees Celsius)—it was a cold, rainy Kentucky winter’s night—and Sailor was wearing only shorts, a T-shirt, and one sock.
She cried out for her mother and father, but no one answered. Summoning every ounce of courage, she set off barefoot across the countryside in search of help, wading through creeks, crossing ditches, and braving blackberry briars. From the top of one small hill, Sailor spotted a light in the distance, about a mile away. Stumbling through the darkness and brush toward that light, she eventually arrived at the home of a kind man she had never met before who sprang to her care. Sailor was safe. She would soon be taken to a hospital and helped on her way to recovery.1
Sailor survived because she saw a light in the distance and fought her way to it—notwithstanding the wild countryside, the depth of the tragedy she faced, and the injuries she had sustained. It is hard to imagine how Sailor managed to do what she did that night. But what we do know is that she recognized in the light of that distant house a chance for rescue. There was hope. She took courage in the fact that no matter how bad things were, her rescue would be found in that light.
Few of us will ever endure an experience as harrowing as Sailor’s. But all of us will, at some time or another, have to traverse our own spiritual wilderness and undertake our own rugged emotional journeys. In those moments, however dark or seemingly hopeless they may be, if we search for it, there will always be a spiritual light that beckons to us, giving us the hope of rescue and relief. That light shines from the Savior of all mankind, who is the Light of the World.
Perceiving spiritual light is different from seeing physical light. Recognizing the Savior’s spiritual light begins with our willingness to believe. God requires that initially we at least desire to believe. “If ye will awake and arouse your faculties … and exercise a particle of faith,” the prophet Alma teaches, “yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of [the Savior’s] words.”2
Alma’s call for us to desire to believe and to “give place” in our hearts for the Savior’s words reminds us that belief and faith require our personal choice and action. We must “awake and arouse [our] faculties.” We ask before it is given unto us; we seek before we find; we knock before it is opened unto us. We are then given this promise: “For every one that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.”3
No more impassioned plea for us to believe has come than from the Savior Himself, during His earthly ministry, when He appealed to His disbelieving listeners:
“If I do not the works of my Father, believe me not.
“But if I do, though ye believe not me, believe the works: that ye may know, and believe, that the Father is in me, and I in him.”4
Every day each of us faces a test. It is the test of our lifetimes: will we choose to believe in Him and allow the light of His gospel to grow within us, or will we refuse to believe and insist on traveling alone in the dark? The Savior provides His gospel as a light to guide those who choose to believe in and follow Him.
After the crash, Sailor had a choice. She could have chosen to stay by the airplane in the dark, alone and afraid. But there was a long night ahead, and it was just going to get colder. She chose another way. Sailor climbed up a hill, and there she saw a light on the horizon.
Gradually, as she made her way through the night toward the light, it grew brighter. Still, there must have been times when she could not see it. Perhaps it went out of view when she was in a ravine or behind trees or bushes, but she pressed on. Whenever she could see the light, Sailor had evidence that she was on the right path. She did not yet know precisely what that light was, but she kept walking toward it based on what she knew, trusting and hoping that she would see it again if she kept moving in the right direction. By so doing, she may have saved her life.
Our lives can be like that too. There may be times when we have been hurt, when we are tired, and when our lives seem dark and cold. There may be times when we cannot see any light on the horizon, and we may feel like giving up. If we are willing to believe, if we desire to believe, if we choose to believe, then the Savior’s teachings and example will show us the pathway forward.
Just as Sailor had to believe that she would find safety in that distant light, so we too must choose to open our hearts to the divine reality of the Savior—to His eternal light and His healing mercy. Prophets across the ages have encouraged us and even implored us to believe in Christ. Their exhortations reflect a fundamental fact: God does not force us to believe. Instead He invites us to believe by sending living prophets and apostles to teach us, by providing scriptures, and by beckoning to us through His Spirit. We are the ones who must choose to embrace those spiritual invitations, electing to see with inward eyes the spiritual light with which He calls us. The decision to believe is the most important choice we ever make. It shapes all our other decisions.
God does not compel us to believe any more than He compels us to keep any commandments, despite His perfect desire to bless us. Yet His call to us to believe in Him—to exercise that particle of faith and to give place for His words—remains in effect today. As the Savior said, “I bear record that the Father commandeth all men, everywhere, to repent and believe in me.”5
Belief and testimony and faith are not passive principles. They do not just happen to us. Belief is something we choose—we hope for it, we work for it, and we sacrifice for it. We will not accidentally come to believe in the Savior and His gospel any more than we will accidentally pray or pay tithing. We actively choose to believe, just like we choose to keep other commandments.
Sailor could not know at first if what she was doing as she pushed her way through the underbrush would actually work. She was lost and injured; it was dark and cold. But she left the crash site and ventured out in hope of rescue, crawling and scraping her way forward until she saw a light in the distance. Once she had seen it, she did her best to move toward it, remembering what she had seen.
We likewise must give place for the hope that we will find spiritual light by embracing belief rather than choosing to doubt. Our actions are the evidence of our belief and become the substance of our faith. We are choosing to believe when we pray and when we read the scriptures. We are choosing to believe when we fast, when we keep the Sabbath day holy, and when we worship in the temple. We are choosing to believe when we are baptized and when we partake of the sacrament. We are choosing to believe when we repent and seek divine forgiveness and healing love.
Sometimes progress in spiritual things can seem slow or intermittent. Sometimes we may feel that we have lost ground, that we have made mistakes, or that our best efforts to find the Savior are not working. If you feel this way, please do not give up—ever. Go right on believing in Him and in His gospel and His Church. Align your actions with that belief. In those moments when the light of your faith has dimmed, let your hope for the Savior’s love and grace, found in His gospel and His Church, overcome your doubt. I promise that He stands ready to receive you. Over time you will come to see that you have made the best choice you could possibly have made. Your courageous decision to believe in Him will bless you immeasurably and forever.
I have felt the merciful love of the Savior in my life. I have searched for Him in my own moments of darkness, and He has reached out to me with His healing light. One of the great joys of my life has been traveling with my wife, Kathy, to meet with members of the Church in many corners of the globe. These wonderful encounters have taught me and taught us about God’s love for His children. They have shown me the limitless potential for happiness that becomes the blessing of those who choose to follow the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. I have learned that believing in Him and in His redemptive power is the true path to “peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come.”6
I testify that Jesus Christ is the source of light and hope for all of us. I pray that we may all choose to believe in Him. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

[The boat captain sits near the boat. The narrator enters.]
Narrator: In the spring of 1831, groups of Church members traveled by boat from New York to Ohio. Lucy Mack Smith, the mother of the prophet Joseph Smith, led one of the groups.
[Lucy Mack Smith leads the Church members onstage.]
Lucy Mack Smith: Brothers and sisters, we have set out just as Father Lehi did to travel to a land that the Lord will show unto us if we are faithful. I want you all to lift your hearts to God in prayer continually that we may be prospered.
[They all get on the boat with the captain.]
Narrator: Lucy’s group traveled safely on the Erie Canal. But when they got to Lake Erie, the harbor was frozen!
[Sheets of “ice” block the boat.]
Captain (pointing to the ice): When will this ice melt? We can’t sail until it has melted.
Church member 1: We’ll never make it to Ohio!
[The townspeople enter and see the Church members.]
Church member 2: Look! Maybe those people can help us find a place to stay until the ice melts.
Townsperson 1: Good day. Who are all of you?
Church member 1 (speaking quietly, to Lucy Mack Smith): Don’t tell them who we are. Some people treat us badly because of our beliefs.
Lucy Mack Smith: I am Lucy Mack Smith, and we are members of the true Church of Jesus Christ restored to the earth.
Townsperson 2 (calling from below the boat): I have a question for you. Is the Book of Mormon true?
Lucy Mack Smith: That book was brought forth by the power of God and translated by the same power. It is true!
[Lucy Mack Smith continues talking silently and gesturing to the townspeople.]
Church member 1: Will we ever have a comfortable home again?
Church member 2: Not if we’re stuck here on this frozen harbor.
Lucy Mack Smith: Friends, let us trust God. He will provide.
Lucy Mack Smith (turning to the Saints on the boat): Brothers and sisters, if you will all raise your desires to heaven that the ice will let us through, as sure as the Lord lives it shall be done.
[Lucy Mack Smith and the Church members pray together.]
Narrator: Just then a noise like thunder was heard.
[Kids playing the part of the ice stamp their feet loudly and pull the two “sheets” of ice offstage.]
Church member 1: Look! The ice is breaking!
Captain: Everyone to your post. Let’s get this boat moving!
Lucy Mack Smith: Soon we’ll be with the Saints in Ohio!
[The Saints cheer, and the boat starts moving forward.]
Narrator: After the boat sailed through, the ice closed again, and other boats had to wait. But Lucy and her boat sailed across Lake Erie and reached Ohio safely a few days later.

As a junior high school teacher with eight children, I needed to provide at least GHC 5.00 as pocket money to each child every school day. None of the days were for rest in my family, including Sundays. My wife needed to work hard with the children to make ends meet. She sold mashed kenkey (ice kenkey), water, cocoa drinks, or farm produce I brought from the farm I owned aside my teaching job.
After my family’s baptism, the missionaries taught us the importance of Sabbath day observance. We found it difficult and inconvenient to observe the Sabbath due to the high financial challenges we faced. The missionaries taught us to our understanding from scriptures such as Mosiah 13:16–19 and Exodus 20:8–11. Reading such scriptures overturned events of the family. We prayed for the Lord to help us keep His day holy by providing for our needs from Monday to Saturday.
While offering a prayer in our family home evening one Monday, I declared that henceforth there should be no more sales on Sundays. My children jubilated with the hope that Heavenly Father would provide. The Lord indeed answered my prayers. Each of these children have now completed various levels in their education, and four of them are returned missionaries with university education.
Thus, the Savior will bless His people who obey and keep the Sabbath day holy.

While reading this letter, I returned in my thoughts to a visit to one of the great art galleries of the world—even the famed Victoria and Albert Museum in London, England. There, exquisitely framed, was a masterpiece painted in 1831 by Joseph Mallord William Turner. The painting features heavy-laden black clouds and the fury of a turbulent sea portending danger and death. A light from a stranded vessel gleams far off. In the foreground, tossed high by incoming waves of foaming water, is a large lifeboat. The men pull mightily on the oars as the lifeboat plunges into the tempest. On the shore there stand a wife and two children, wet with rain and whipped by wind. They gaze anxiously seaward. In my mind I abbreviated the name of the painting. To me, it became To the Rescue.
Amidst the storms of life, danger lurks; and men, like boats, find themselves stranded and facing destruction. Who will man the lifeboats, leaving behind the comforts of home and family, and go to the rescue?
President John Taylor cautioned us, “If you do not magnify your callings, God will hold you responsible for those whom you might have saved had you done your duty.”
Brethren, our task is not insurmountable. We are on the Lord’s errand, and therefore we are entitled to the Lord’s help. But we must try. From the stage play Shenandoah comes the spoken line which inspires: “If we don’t try, then we don’t do; and if we don’t do, then why are we here?”
When the Master ministered among men, He called fishermen at Galilee to leave their nets and follow Him, declaring, “I will make you fishers of men.” And so He did. Tonight He issues a call to each of us to “come join the ranks.” He provides our battle plan with His admonition, “Wherefore, now let every man learn his duty, and to act in the office in which he is appointed, in all diligence.”
I love and cherish the noble word duty. Let us hearken to the stirring reminder found in the epistle of James: “Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.”
There is an old song of my vintage. It’s entitled “Wishing Will Make It So.” It’s not true. Wishing will not make it so. The Lord expects our thinking. He expects our action. He expects our labors. He expects our testimonies. He expects our devotion. Unfortunately, there are those who have departed from the track of priesthood activity. Let us help them back to that path that leads to life eternal. Let us build that strong Melchizedek Priesthood base which will be the foundation of Church activity and growth. It will be the underpinning to strengthen every family, every home, every quorum in every land.
Brethren, we can reach out to those for whom we are responsible and bring them to the table of the Lord, there to feast on His word and to enjoy the companionship of His Spirit and be “no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God.”
The passage of time has not altered the capacity of the Redeemer to change men’s lives—our lives and the lives of those with whom we labor. As He said to the dead Lazarus, so He says today: “Come forth.” Come forth from the despair of doubt. Come forth from the sorrow of sin. Come forth from the death of disbelief. Come forth to a newness of life. Come forth.
We will discover that those whom we serve, who have felt through our labors the touch of the Master’s hand, somehow cannot explain the change which comes into their lives. There is a desire to serve faithfully, to walk humbly, and to live more like the Savior. Having received their spiritual eyesight and glimpsed the promises of eternity, they echo the words of the blind man to whom Jesus restored sight, who said, “One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see.”
How can we account for these miracles? Why the upsurge of activity in men long dormant? The poet, speaking of death, wrote, “God … touched him, and he slept.” I say, speaking of this new birth, “God touched them, and they awakened.”
Two fundamental reasons largely account for these changes of attitudes, of habits, of actions. First, men have been shown their eternal possibilities and have made the decision to achieve them. Men cannot really long rest content with mediocrity once they see excellence is within their reach.
Second, other men have followed the admonition of the Savior and have loved their neighbors as themselves and helped to bring their neighbors’ dreams to fulfillment and their ambitions to realization.
The catalyst in this process has been—and will continue to be—the principle of love.
Another principle of truth which will guide us in our determination is that boys and men can change. I’m reminded of the words of a prison warden who taught this fact. A critic who knew of Warden Duffy’s efforts to rehabilitate men said, “Don’t you know that leopards can’t change their spots?”
Warden Duffy responded, “You should know I don’t work with leopards. I work with men, and men change every day.”
Many years ago, before leaving to become president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, I had developed a friendship with a man by the name of Shelley, who lived in my ward but did not embrace the gospel, irrespective of the fact that his wife and children had done so. Shelley had been known as the toughest man in town when he was young. He was quite a pugilist. His fights were rarely in the ring but rather elsewhere. Try as I might, I could not bring about a change in Shelley’s attitude. The task appeared hopeless. In time, Shelley and his family moved from our ward.
After I had returned from Canada and was called to the Twelve, I received a telephone call from Shelley. He said, “Will you seal my wife and me and our family in the Salt Lake Temple?”
I answered hesitatingly, “Shelley, you first must be a baptized member of the Church.”
He laughed and responded, “Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. My home teacher was a school crossing guard, and every weekday as he and I would visit at the crossing, we would discuss the gospel.”
The sealings were performed; a family was united; joy followed.
Abraham Lincoln offered this wise counsel, which surely applies to home teachers: “If you would win a man to your cause, first convince him that you are his sincere friend.”
A friend makes more than a dutiful visit each month. A friend is more concerned about helping people than getting credit. A friend cares. A friend loves. A friend listens. And a friend reaches out.
There are brethren in every ward who seem to have a special skill and aptitude to penetrate the outer shell and reach the heart. Such was Raymond L. Egan, who served as my counselor in the bishopric. He loved to befriend and activate in the Church the father of a family and thereby bring into the fold a dear wife and precious children as well. This wonderful phenomenon occurred many times right up until Brother Egan departed mortality.
There are other ways, as well, by which one might lift and serve. On one occasion, I was speaking with a retired executive I had known for a long time. I asked him, “Ed, what are you doing in the Church?” He replied, “I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.” Short in stature, “Little Ed,” as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.
I truly believe that those who have the ability to reach out and to lift up have found the formula descriptive of Brother Walter Stover—a man who spent his entire life in service to others. At Brother Stover’s funeral, his son-in-law paid tribute to him in these words: “Walter Stover had the ability to see Christ in every face he encountered, and he treated each person accordingly.” Legendary are his acts of compassionate help and his talent to lift heavenward every person whom he met. His guiding light was the Master’s voice speaking, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … , ye have done it unto me.”
Brethren, acquire the language of the Spirit. It is not learned from textbooks written by men of letters, nor is it acquired through reading and memorization. The language of the Spirit comes to him who seeks with all his heart to know God and keep His divine commandments. Proficiency in this “language” permits one to breach barriers, overcome obstacles, and touch the human heart.
In a day of danger or a time of trial, such knowledge, such hope, such understanding bring comfort to a troubled soul and a grieving heart. Shadows of despair are dispelled by rays of hope; sorrow yields to joy; and the feeling of being lost in the crowd of life vanishes with the certain knowledge that our Heavenly Father is mindful of each of us.
In closing, I return to the painting by Turner. In a very real sense, those persons stranded on the vessel which had run aground in the storm-tossed sea are like many young men—and older men as well—who await rescue by those of us who have the priesthood responsibility to man the lifeboats. Their hearts yearn for help. Mothers and fathers pray for their sons. Wives and children plead to heaven that Daddy and others may be reached.
Tonight I pray that all of us who hold the priesthood may sense our responsibilities and, as one, follow our Leader—even the Lord Jesus Christ, and His prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley—to the rescue.
In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In 1952, Elder Benson was astonished to receive a telephone call informing him that U.S. President-elect Dwight D. Eisenhower, a man he had never met, wanted to talk to him about becoming U.S. Secretary of Agriculture. Farm leaders had recommended Ezra Taft Benson as the best man for the job. With Church President David O. McKay’s blessing and President Eisenhower’s assurance that he need never endorse a policy that he did not agree with, Elder Benson became Secretary Benson. The Benson family returned to Washington, D.C., for the eight years of the Eisenhower administration.

In that period, controversy was raging about how to stabilize supply and demand in an uncertain farm economy, and Ezra Taft Benson’s face appeared on the covers of national magazines as he dealt with the problem. He spoke forthrightly, without regard for how popular his opinion might be. Speaking to farmers and politicians, he dared to suggest that the solutions to economic and political problems are based on spiritual and moral principles, without which no nation can have prosperity or peace. In Washington, Elder Benson instigated the practice of opening Cabinet meetings with prayer, and the Bensons presented a family home evening program to the Eisenhowers.

On a recent flight, our pilot announced that we would encounter turbulence during our descent and that all passengers must fasten their seat belts securely. Sure enough, turbulence came. It was really rough. Across the aisle and a couple of rows behind me, a terrified woman panicked. With each frightening drop and jarring bump, she screamed loudly. Her husband tried to comfort her but to no avail. Her hysterical shouts persisted until we passed through that zone of turbulence to a safe landing. During her period of anxiety, I felt sorry for her. Because faith is the antidote for fear, I silently wished that I could have strengthened her faith.

Later, as passengers were leaving the aircraft, this woman’s husband spoke to me. He said, “I’m sorry my wife was so terrified. The only way I could comfort her was to tell her that ‘Elder Nelson is on this flight, so you don’t need to worry.’”

I’m not sure that my presence on that flight should have given her any comfort, but I will say that one of the realities of mortal life is that our faith will be tested and challenged. Sometimes those tests come as we face what appear to be life-and-death encounters. For this frightened woman, a violently rocking plane presented one of those moments when we come face-to-face with the strength of our faith.

Elder Christofferson graduated from BYU with a bachelor’s degree in 1969 and then pursued a law degree at Duke University. Upon graduating in 1972, he was hired as a law clerk for Judge John J. Sirica, serving during the Watergate proceedings.
“It was an exciting experience for a first job out of school,” Elder Christofferson says. “I saw some of the best and some of the worst in the legal profession all mixed together. But that experience showed me what good legal work could do, and that gave me confidence and aspiration.”

In addition to this Church work, Joseph Fielding Smith diligently assumed the responsibilities of husband and father. In April 1898, when he was twenty-two years old, he married Louie Emyla Shurtliff. After being married for only a year, he was ordained a seventy by his father on 12 May 1899, and left the next day for the mission field. Surely, making such a personal sacrifice was no easier for Elder Smith to do then than it would be for us to do now. He accepted his call, labored in the Nottingham Conference for two years, and returned home in June 1901.

Three of her four children joined the Church with her, and all of them are still active Latter-day Saints. “When I was first being taught, the children would laugh behind the door. After I received my own testimony of the gospel, I got them to promise that they would listen to one discussion. I told the missionaries that they had better be good, because the children had promised to listen just this once. The elders prepared a very fine flannel-board presentation, after which the children promised that they would also join the Church. It is true, though, that the youngest son, Eikki, later said the reason he joined the Church was that his mother told him to,” Sister Rinne says, laughing.

Although these two girls speak different languages and live more than 6,000 miles (9,600 km) apart, they have something special in common: they both found ways to keep a positive attitude when natural disasters struck their hometowns. Take a look at the true stories of Honoka O. from Japan and Maggie W. from Missouri, USA. During sad and scary times, what helped them stay faithful and optimistic?
Hello! I’m Maggie from Joplin, Missouri. One night my mom saw storm warnings on the news, and we all went to the basement. The loud, whistling wind scared me. I was worried about my friends and our animals. After the storm, I was grateful my family was safe and our house didn’t have much damage.
Lots of other homes and businesses were destroyed by the tornado that came through town. I felt sad for people who lost loved ones. My parents and older brother and sister decided to help clean up our town. It made me think of the scripture, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God” (Mosiah 2:17).
I wanted to help clean too, but my mom said it wasn’t safe for a child. Then I felt the Holy Ghost share a great idea to make people feel happy. I made 20 thank-you notes to give to volunteers. I spent lots of time making each card special so that people could feel the Spirit and know they were very important to our town.
I learned that even if you can’t do certain things to serve, you can always think of other ways to serve. Heavenly Father will bless you for serving Him and your fellowman.