Gospel Story Finder

I had gone to a certain house several times and had been rejected and warned not to come back again, but I was prompted to go again and again. And then as I was attempting to walk past that house, I was prompted to go in and try again to make contact. I used the big brass knocker on the English door without any response. I could see a lady in the front room knitting, and I made considerable noise with that knocker. She did not come out, and I went around to the back door. There was no knocker on that door so I used my walking stick, and I knocked with considerable vigor; in fact, it echoed through all the house.

Very soon the lady came out, and her coming out reminded me of my early days on the farm when I teased a sitting hen off the nest. (I see some of you have had farm experience.) You know that a setting hen when she is teased off the nest comes off with her feathers going in the wrong direction, with her beak in perpetual motion, and this woman reminded me of that.

I apologized and said, “I am sorry to have interrupted you and have insisted upon an interview, but, my dear sister, I have come over six thousand miles to bring you a message which the Lord wants you to have. He sent me here to give you that message. I am going back to Canada in a few days, and I must tell you what the Lord wants you to know.”

She said, “You mean the Lord sent a message to me!”

I said, “That is right, he did.”

I told her of the restoration of the gospel, the organization of the Church, and the message of the restoration. She was quite impressed by what I told her. And I said when I left, “I am sorry to have disturbed you, but I could not refuse to carry out the message and the mission that was given to me when I came here. When we meet again, and we will meet again, you are going to say, ‘Thank you for coming to my back door. Thank you for loving me enough to carry the message of the Lord to me. When you left I could hardly contain myself. I was worried, disturbed, and wondered what it was all about. I finally went to the mission home, got some literature, studied, and became a member of the Church with my family.’”

Ten years later I was in England again, this time as a soldier, and at the end of the meeting a lady came up with two grown daughters. She said, “I do thank God and thank you that you came to my door with that message many years ago. I and my daughters joined the Church and we are going to Utah in a short time, and we thank God that you had the courage, the fortitude, and the faith to come to me with that divine message and to leave it with me in the name of the Lord.”Elder Hugh B. BrownOf the Council of the Twelve

I am grateful for my father’s good example, and we should always remember that our own example will have its effect on the lives (and vocabularies) of others. I once visited a friend who had two boys about four and five years old. They were playing at repairing machinery, and one of them was astraddle a grain auger. He had some wrenches and was playing like he was turning the bolts, and as he turned he was swearing a blue streak. He was hammering with the wrench and calling the bolts all kinds of profane names, and his little brother was doing the same. Where had they learned that? From watching their father and older brother repair the machinery, of course!

But Elder Jesus Ramon, from Elche, Spain, the only member of the Church in his family, says, “I cried when I got my mission call to Utah. I wanted to serve my people in Spain; share the gospel message with them. I also wanted to be closer to my family and help bring them into the Church. But I prayed and knew that the call was from the Lord through President Spencer W. Kimball, and that Utah was where I should be.”

Now he is glad that he was obedient to the call. “I have seen a great deal of progress in the attitude of my family toward the Church. They are now attending church because of the change for the good they have seen in my life, and because they like the members. I feel that one of the blessings of serving a mission will be to see my family come into the Church.”

Although Elder Ramon is serving an English-speaking mission, he often is the first contact with Mexicans or South Americans living in his area of Zone Eight.

My father passed away in April 2013. As I prepared to speak at his funeral, I realized how blessed I was to know and love his favorite scriptures. He shared them in family gatherings, and he read them with me when I needed counsel, guidance, or strengthening of my faith. I heard him share them in talks and assignments. I not only knew them, but I can still remember the sound of his voice and the spiritual feelings I had as he shared them. Through sharing scriptures and feelings, my father helped me to establish a firm foundation of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

James Edward Talmage was 13 years old when his family emigrated from their native England and settled in Provo, Utah.
Intelligent and thirsty for knowledge, James was a part-time member of the faculty of the Brigham Young Academy in Provo, Utah, by the time he was 17. He went on to study chemistry and geology at Lehigh University in Pennsylvania and at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. Membership in many prominent scientific societies gave James Talmage access to important people and publications and helped him combat much of the prejudice faced by Latter-day Saints at the time.
In 1888 he married Mary May Booth. They became the parents of eight children. From 1894 to 1897 he was president of the University of Deseret in Salt Lake City (now the University of Utah). During that time he bought one of the popular new chain-driven bicycles and rode it often. One evening he arrived home an hour late for dinner, bruised, bloodied, and dirty. Near his home was a single-plank bridge across a ditch. Normally, he dismounted and crossed on foot. But this time he felt he could ride across. He kept at it, crash after crash, until he mastered the maneuver.
Elder Talmage was an effective lecturer, and some of his talks and lessons became the basis of some of the books for which he is well-known, including The Articles of Faith. Prior to his call to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1911, the First Presidency had asked him to write a book on the life and ministry of the Savior. Later, a room was set aside in the Salt Lake Temple where Elder Talmage could concentrate on his writing. His 700-page book, Jesus the Christ, was published in 1915 and has been reprinted several times since then.

When I was a boy, we lived on a farm in the summer. It was in the country, where the nights were dark. There were no streetlights or anything of the kind. My brother and I slept out-of-doors. On clear nights—and most of those nights were clear and the air was clean—we would lie on our backs and look at the myriads of stars in the heavens. We could identify some of the constellations and other stars as they were illustrated in our encyclopedia. Each night we would trace the Big Dipper, the handle and the cup, to find the North Star.
We came to know of the constancy of that star. As the earth turned, the others appeared to move through the night. But the North Star held its position in line with the axis of the earth. And so it had come to be known as the Polar Star, or the Polestar, or the Lodestar. Through centuries of time, mariners had used it to guide them in their journeys. They had reckoned their bearings by its constancy, thereby avoiding traveling in circles or in the wrong direction, as they moved across the wide, unmarked seas.
Because of those boyhood musings, the Polar Star came to mean something to me. I recognized it as a constant in the midst of change. It was something that could always be counted on, something that was dependable, an anchor in what otherwise appeared to be a moving and unstable firmament.

As part of the ‘Rise and Reach’ summer programme, on three days in 2020 (15 August, 3 September and 24 October) a group of youth, young adults and missionaries of the Church in Walworth, London, undertook service projects for Thames Reach, at three of its sites. Thames Reach is a charitable organisation that supports homeless and vulnerable individuals, some with mental-health concerns, to access housing, training, and employment opportunities.
For various reasons, including the national lockdown caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, no gardening had taken place for a long time at the sites, and the gardens were much in need of attention. Thus, when the offer of help was made, Amy Dawe of Thames Reach readily accepted.
The tasks for the volunteers involved cutting back overgrown foliage, tree branches, weeding and litter-picking around the properties. On each occasion, the volunteers laboured diligently, the results being a very noticeable difference in the appearance of the gardens.
Amy was delighted with the results. She said the residents were very pleased with the transformation. Once again, they would be able to use and enjoy their outdoor spaces, thanks to the tremendous hard work of the group of Church volunteers.
Following the completion of the second project, Bishop Abdul Rollings-Kamara of Peckham Ward, received an email from the volunteers programmes manager of Thames Reach. She informed him that the volunteers had won a Volunteer Hero Award, in recognition for the work they had undertaken. This came as a surprise to everyone. A certificate of achievement was subsequently awarded, as well as a gift voucher. These were presented by Bill Tidnam, chief executive of Thames Reach, on 24 October.
Through their service, the volunteers have exemplified the Rise and Reach motto to ‘Go and Do’, by going out and doing good for their community. Although their service was unconditional, they received a wonderful and unexpected award. The bishop will put the gift voucher towards food for a foodbank.

Every year, each member of my family picks another family member’s name out of a hat and secretly gets a gift for that person. We first got the idea from the movie Christmas for a Dollar. We tried it, and now it’s been a tradition for the past couple years.
This past year, I picked my brother’s name. At first, I thought, “Oh, great,” because we had been butting heads. But looking for a gift he would like really humbled me. After Christmas, we were best friends again.
I like our tradition because it changed my perspective on Christmas. I used to always focus on what gifts I’d get and what I wanted, but after we started this tradition, it made me focus more on thinking about my family members and the looks on their faces as they opened their gifts. I put more time and thought into giving gifts. Even before Christmastime, I try to look for things my family members will like and what I could get them.
Makenna B., 16, Oklahoma, USA

When we grew older, I had another test of being a pioneer. I had many friends, and a lot of them didn’t know Jenny. Although they were never rude, I always felt torn between Jenny and my other friends. It was hard and definitely a conscious effort, but I decided to help them get to know her. In time my other friends felt more comfortable with Jenny.
To this day, I am still friends with Jenny. She goes to my same high school, and I see her almost every day. I truly feel proud to walk around the halls with her.

Priests in the Wymondley Ward, Auckland Tamaki Stake in New Zealand, found out that if you want to grow full-fledged missionaries in 19 years, it helps to nourish them with missionary experiences like the one they had recently.
While acting, living, and dressing as full-time missionaries do, each priest had the opportunity to practice teaching the first discussion to a member family pretending to be nonmembers. Everyone loved it!
“This activity has helped me realize the importance of preparing physically, mentally, and spiritually for a mission,” said Junior Asiata. “You should go on a mission because you have a desire to go and with an eye single to the Lord.”

When I was a boy, we lived in a home surrounded by an orchard. There never seemed to be enough water for the trees. The ditches, always freshly plowed in the spring, would soon fill with weeds. One day, in charge of the irrigation turn, I found myself in trouble. As the water moved down the rows choked with weeds, it would flood in every direction. I worked in the puddles trying to build up the bank. As soon as I had one break patched up, there would be another. A neighbor came through the orchard. He watched for a moment, and then with a few vigorous strokes of the shovel, he cleared the ditch and allowed the water to course through the channel he had made. He said, “If you want the water to stay in its course, you’ll have to make a place for it to go.”
I have come to know that thoughts, like water, will stay on course if we make a place for them to go. Otherwise, our thoughts follow the course of least resistance, always seeking the lower levels. Probably the greatest challenge and the most difficult thing you will face in mortal life is to learn to control your thoughts. In the Bible it says, as a man “thinketh in his heart, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7). Those who can control their thoughts have conquered themselves.
As you learn to control your thoughts, you can overcome habits, even degrading personal habits. You can gain courage, conquer fear, and have a happy life. I had been told a hundred times or more as I grew up that thoughts must be controlled, but no one told me how. I’ve thought about this over the years and have decided that the mind is like a stage. During every waking moment the curtain is up. There is always some act being performed on that stage. It may be a comedy, a tragedy, interesting or dull, good or bad; but always there is some act playing on the stage of your mind.
Have you noticed that shady little thoughts may creep in from the wings and attract your attention in the middle of almost any performance and without any real intent on your part? These delinquent thoughts will try to upstage everybody. If you permit them to go on, all thoughts of any virtue will leave the stage. You will be left, because you consented to it, to the influence of unrighteous thoughts. If you yield to them, they will enact for you on the stage of your mind anything to the limits of your toleration. They may enact themes of bitterness, jealousy, or hatred. They may be vulgar, immoral, even depraved. When they have the stage, if you let them, they will devise the most clever persuasions to hold your attention. They can make it interesting all right, even convince you that they are innocent, for they are but thoughts. What do you do at a time like that, when the stage of your mind is commandeered by the imps of unclean thinking, whether they be the gray ones that seem almost clean or the filthy ones that leave no room for doubt? If you can fill your mind with clean and constructive thoughts, then there will be no room for these persistent imps, and they will leave.
I realize that in today’s world it’s often difficult to keep your mind filled with worthy thoughts. This takes careful control. However, it can be done when you make a safe place for your thoughts to go. I’ve found a way to make such a place, and I’d like to share it with you. It has to do with music—worthy music. A wise man once said, “Music is one of the most forceful instruments for governing the mind.” Whether it governs in a positive way or a negative way is determined by what it brings onto the stage of your mind. If you can say that a song is spiritually inspiring or that it urges you to see yourself in a more noble perspective, the music is worthwhile. If it merely entertains or lifts your spirits, then it also has a useful place. But if it makes you want to respond in a carnal, sensual way or to consider unrighteous desires, then that music should be avoided. It is not worthy.
There have always been those who take the beautiful things and corrupt them. It’s happened with nature; it’s happened with literature, drama, art; and it certainly has happened with music. For centuries it has been obvious that when the wrong kind of words are set to appealing music, songs can lead men astray. And music itself, by the way it is played, by its beat, by its intensity, can dull the spiritual sensitivity.
We are living at a time when society is undergoing a subtle, but powerful, change. It is becoming more and more permissive in what it will accept in its entertainment. As a result, much of the music being performed by popular entertainers today seems to be more intended to agitate than to pacify, more to excite than to calm. Some musicians appear to openly promote unrighteous thoughts and action.
Young people, you cannot afford to fill your minds with the unworthy music of our day. It is not harmless. It can welcome onto the stage of your mind unworthy thoughts and set a tempo to which they dance and to which you may act. You degrade yourself when you identify with those things that at times surround extremes in music—the shabbiness, the irreverence, the immorality, the addictions. Such music is not worthy of you.
Be selective in what you listen to and produce. It becomes part of you. It controls your thoughts and influences the lives of others as well. I would recommend that you go through your music and throw away that which promotes degrading thoughts. Such music ought not to belong to young people concerned with spiritual development.
I don’t mean by this that all of today’s music produces unworthy thoughts. There is music today that builds understanding of people; music that inspires courage; music that awakens feelings of spirituality, reverence, happiness, and awareness of beauty.
The Lord has said, “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12). The First Presidency of the Church, commenting on the influence of music in our lives, has said: “Through music, man’s ability to express himself extends beyond the limits of the spoken language in both subtlety and power. Music can be used to exalt and inspire or to carry messages of degradation and destruction. It is therefore important that as Latter-day Saints we at all times apply the principles of the gospel and seek the guidance of the Spirit in selecting the music with which we surround ourselves.”
Let me say to you young leaders, pay careful attention to the music you plan for your activities. Consult with your advisers as selections are made. You need the benefit of their wisdom, for the breach between the Church and the world, with the extremes of its music, is wider in our day than ever in generations past.
President J. Reuben Clark Jr. (1871–1961), one of our great Church leaders, explained it this way: “We may not, under our duty, provide or tolerate an unwholesome amusement on the theory that if we do not provide it the youth will go elsewhere to get it. We could hardly set up a roulette table in the Church amusement hall for gambling purposes, with the excuse that if we do not provide it the youth would go to a gambling hall to gamble. We can never really hold our youth thus.”
Nor is it proper to provide the kind of music and atmosphere that attracts youth in the world. You must stand firm and not compromise with what you know is right and good; you must have the courage to turn the lights up and the music down when they don’t contribute to the kind of atmosphere that produces worthy thoughts; and you must insist on high standards of dress and performance from those who entertain as well as those who attend.
I would counsel you to develop your talents, and if you have musical talent, think of this: There is much music yet to be created, much to be performed. Yours can be the worthy music that will be uplifting, that will spread the gospel, touch hearts, give comfort and strength to troubled minds.
There are many examples, both ancient and modern, that attest to the influence of righteous music. Discouragement disappeared and minds were filled with peace as the words to “Come, Come, Ye Saints” gave the pioneers courage to face their trials. This same song has been an inspiration to many over the years. At one time I was talking to a pilot who had just returned from a hazardous flight. We spoke of courage and of fear, and I asked how he had held himself together in the face of what he had endured. He said, “I have a favorite hymn, and when it was desperate, when there was little hope that we would return, I would keep it on my mind, and it was as though the engines of the aircraft would sing back to me.”
Come, come, ye Saints,
No toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Though hard to you
This journey may appear,
Grace shall be as your day.
From this he clung to faith, the one essential ingredient to courage.
The Lord Himself was prepared for His greatest test through the influence of music, for the scripture records, “And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount of Olives” (Mark 14:26).
Remember, young people, I want each of you to remember that this is your Church, and He is your Lord and your Savior who stands at the helm. His constant guidance and inspiration are available to you when you keep your mind filled to overflowing with the good, the beautiful, the inspiring. And this is one way to do it. Choose a favorite hymn or song, just as my pilot friend did, one with words that are uplifting and music that is reverent, one that makes you feel something akin to inspiration. There are many beautiful songs to choose from. Seek the guidance of the Spirit in making your selection. Go over the song in your mind carefully. Memorize it. Even though you have had no musical training, you can think through a simple song. Now use this as the course for your thoughts to follow. Make it your emergency channel.
Whenever you find shady actors slipping from the sidelines of your thinking onto the stage of your mind, put on this CD, as it were. It will change your whole mood.
Because the music is uplifting and clean, the baser thoughts will slip shamefully away. For while virtue, by choice, will not associate with filth, evil cannot tolerate the presence of light. In due time you will find yourself humming the music inwardly, almost automatically, to drive out unworthy thoughts. As you young people involve yourselves with righteous and worthwhile things, keep your minds filled with worthy thoughts, for as a man thinketh so is he, and you will have the ability to accomplish those things that will bring fulfillment to your lives.
You are a son or a daughter of Almighty God. I bear witness that God is our Father, that we are His children, that He loves us and has provided great and glorious things in this life. I know this, and I thank Him for the uplifting influence of good music, which has influenced my thoughts and uplifted my soul.

It was on one of my last trips when I had a really neat experience. I was just reading my scriptures before going to bed, and my host (the girl on the team assigned to me for the recruiting trip) asked me about what I was reading. That opened up an incredible conversation in which we ended up talking late into the night. After that, she thanked me and explained how much she had needed to hear what I had to say at that time. I know without a doubt that the conversations I had on my other trips had helped me prepare for this time, and since I was ready, I was able to say the things I needed to by inspiration.

I heard one of my brethren tell of a recent visit he made to a prison. There he noticed a young man, handsome in appearance and intelligent in his ways.

My brother said to the prison official, “What is that young man doing in here?”

The reply was that one evening he had taken his mother’s car, had obtained some beer and drunk it, and then, out of control of himself, he drove the car down the sidewalk and killed two girls.

I do not know how long he will be in prison, but I do know that he will never entirely get over his feelings concerning the act that put him there. On such small hinges turn the gates of our lives. Little mistakes, which seem so unimportant in their beginnings, determine the eternal courses we follow.

In China we have nine-hundred million people. Yesterday about fifty Chinese Saints came in to see me. I took them through the Church offices and told them about our programs, and then I said to them, “We have been talking about China today.” (That was the day of the Regional Representatives meeting.) “We’ve learned of that people’s good qualities and that the Spirit of the Lord seems to be brooding over them, to bring the possibility of the gospel to them.” I asked all of those Chinese people who were here at conference, “Will you guarantee that in all your home evenings and in all your family prayers and in all your public prayers you will mention this to the Lord? Now, I know he can do it without our help; but I think he would want to know that we were interested in it and that we would appreciate it greatly.”

On the day before Easter, Kurt’s grandparents invited his family to a barbecue. Kurt was especially excited to go because his favorite uncle, Darren, had just come home from his mission. He had missed Uncle Darren a lot.
Kurt bounded into his grandparents’ backyard, ran past Grandpa, who was standing over the sizzling grill, and found Uncle Darren sitting in a patio chair.
“Hey, Kurt,” Uncle Darren greeted him. “Are you excited for Easter, little buddy?”
“Yes!” Kurt scrambled into his uncle’s lap.
“What do you want in your Easter basket*?” Uncle Darren asked.
“Candy, I guess.” Kurt grinned. He imagined finding chocolate bunnies, marshmallows shaped like baby birds, and jelly beans spilling out of his Easter basket. His heart skipped excitedly just thinking about it.
“What do you want in your Easter basket?” Kurt asked, poking his finger into Uncle Darren’s chest.
“I don’t think I’ll get one this year,” Uncle Darren said. “I guess I’m too old for that. But it’s OK because last year I got the best Easter basket ever.”
“What was in it?” Kurt asked.
“Don’t you remember?” Uncle Darren looked surprised. “You helped send it to me.”
Kurt tried to think about last spring, but it was a long time ago. He remembered the family gathering at Grandma’s house to make a package for Uncle Darren. Plastic colored eggs and stringy Easter grass had been strewn all over the kitchen table. Strips of paper, markers, and pens had been piled on the countertop.
“Why was it your favorite Easter basket?” Kurt asked. He couldn’t remember sending anything special.
Uncle Darren squeezed Kurt tightly. “It was my favorite Easter basket because there was no candy inside.” Kurt giggled, expecting to see a teasing twinkle in Uncle Darren’s eyes, but he looked serious.
“No candy?” Kurt cried. “Why not?”
Uncle Darren laughed. “Come in the house. I want to show you something.”
Kurt watched Uncle Darren rummage through a shoe box full of letters. He reached into the box, pulled out an envelope, and handed a strip of paper to Kurt.
The Church is true, Kurt read. I love Jesus and my family. Last year he had written these words, folded the paper up, and placed it inside a plastic egg. Everyone else—his parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins—had done the same. Now Kurt remembered! Uncle Darren’s missionary Easter basket had been filled with testimonies.
“You liked these papers better than jelly beans?” Kurt asked. He couldn’t imagine why.
Uncle Darren nodded. “Easter is the time to celebrate Jesus Christ’s Resurrection,” he said quietly. “Do you know what that means?”
“Jesus came back to life so that we can all be resurrected someday,” Kurt answered.
“And do you know what that means?” Uncle Darren asked. He rested his hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “It means that I will always be your uncle!”
Kurt was confused. “The Resurrection makes it so that you can be my uncle?”
“We couldn’t be an eternal family without eternal life,” Uncle Darren said. “Jesus Christ died for us so that we could live forever with Him.”
When Kurt and his parents had visited the temple grounds, Mom had pointed to the temple and said that she and Dad had been married there. Because of the sealing ordinances, they could be a family forever. Mom hadn’t said anything about Jesus’ Resurrection.
“What about temples?” Kurt asked. “I thought we could be with our families forever because of temples.”
“The temple is the Lord’s house,” Uncle Darren explained. “Without Jesus Christ and His Resurrection, there wouldn’t be any temples, either. The power that seals us together is His priesthood.”
Kurt hadn’t thought about that before.
Uncle Darren continued. “I taught people on my mission who didn’t believe in eternal families. They believed in Jesus, but they didn’t understand everything He did for us.”
“That’s sad,” Kurt said with a frown.
“Reading everyone’s testimonies reminded me that our family can be eternal,” Uncle Darren said. “It was the best Easter gift I could have received.”
Kurt looked up into his favorite uncle’s beaming face and suddenly felt very grateful. He had missed Uncle Darren terribly during the past two years. He couldn’t imagine being separated from him forever.
Uncle Darren suddenly swooped Kurt up on his shoulders. “I bet the hamburgers are almost done. Should we go find out?” Kurt was giggling too hard to answer. “Then we can be partners for the Easter egg hunt,” Uncle Darren promised.
Kurt was excited, but colored eggs, candy, and Easter baskets didn’t matter so much compared to spending time with Uncle Darren. Kurt smiled, knowing that he could call Darren his uncle forever.

My parents established a family tradition in our home which was fun for me in my early years and has become even more meaningful as I reflect back on it as the years have passed. On the first birthday of each child, the family would gather in the living room. In the center of the living room floor, our parents would place articles for the one-year-old child to select. The selection to be made might indicate an interest the child would pursue in life. The articles were the Bible, a child’s bottle filled with milk, a toy, and a savings bank filled with coins. The child was placed on one side of the room and the family on the other side. Family members would encourage the child to crawl toward the objects and make a selection. This was all in fun, of course.
I was told that I selected the bank and went into finance as my profession. I watched my brother Ted select the scriptures, and he pursued law as his chosen profession. Over the years he has relied on the scriptures as a basis for his judgments. My youngest brother, Bob, was the well-rounded member of the family. He crawled over, sat down on the Bible, put the bottle of milk in his mouth, and then held the toy in one hand and the bank in the other.

A few years ago, I was in line to make a purchase at my local grocery store. Ahead of me stood a young woman, about 15 years old. She appeared confident and happy. I noticed her T-shirt and couldn’t resist talking to her. I began, “You’re from out of state, aren’t you?”
She was surprised by my question and replied, “Yes, I am. I’m from Colorado. How did you know?”
I explained, “Because of your T-shirt.” I made my accurate supposition after reading the words on her shirt, “I’m a Mormon. Are you?”
I continued, “I must tell you that I’m impressed by your confidence to stand out and wear such a bold declaration. I see a difference in you, and I wish every young woman and every member of the Church could have your same conviction and confidence.” Our purchases completed, we said good-bye and parted.
Yet for days and weeks after this random everyday moment, I found myself seriously reflecting upon this encounter. I wondered how this young girl from Colorado came to possess such confidence in her identity as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I couldn’t help but wonder what meaningful phrase I would figuratively choose to have printed on my T-shirt reflecting my belief and testimony. In my mind, I considered many possible sayings. Eventually, I came upon an ideal statement I would proudly wear: “I’m a Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it.”

Romans 8:16 says, “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.” The first time I remember feeling with all certainty that Heavenly Father knew me, loved me, and cared for me was when I entered the waters of baptism at age 15. Before then, I knew God existed and Jesus Christ was the Savior of the world. I believed in Them and loved Them, but I had never felt Their love and care for me, individually, until that day as I rejoiced in my opportunity to make baptismal covenants.

I realized what a great miracle it had been to have been found and taught by the missionaries, especially with only a handful of missionaries amongst two million people! I knew then that Heavenly Father knew me and loved me in such a special way that He guided the missionaries to my home.

Years ago, as a young missionary, I was assigned to a group of seventeen small islands in the South Pacific. At that time, the only means of travel between islands was by sailboat. Because of misunderstandings and traditions, it was difficult to find people willing to listen to us. However, one day a member told us that if we would be at a certain harbor on a particular island when the sun set the next day, a family would meet us there and listen to the discussions.
What joy that news brought! It was like finding a piece of gold. I was working alone at the time but quickly found four other members who were experienced sailors who agreed to take me to this island the next day.
Early the next morning the five of us started out. There was a nice breeze that moved us swiftly along the coast, through the opening in the reef, and out into the wide expanse of the vast Pacific Ocean.
We made good progress for a few hours, but as the sun climbed higher and the boat got farther from land, the wind began to play out and soon quit altogether, leaving us bobbing aimlessly on a smooth ocean.
Those familiar with sailing know that to get anywhere, you need wind. Sometimes there are good breezes without storms and heavy seas, but often they go together. Sailors do not fear storms, for they contain the lifeblood of sailing—wind. What sailors fear is no wind, or being becalmed.
Time passed. The sun got higher, the sea calmer. Nothing moved. We soon realized that unless something changed, we would not arrive by sundown. I suggested that we pray and plead with the Lord to send some wind. What more righteous desire could a group of men have? I offered a prayer. When I finished, things seemed calmer than ever. We continued drifting.
Then one of the older men suggested that everyone kneel and all unite their faith and prayers together, which we did. There was great struggling of spirit, but when the last person opened his eyes, nothing! No movement at all. The sails hung limp and listless. Even the slight ripple of the ocean against the side of the boat had ceased. The ocean seemed like a sea of glass.
Time was moving, and we were getting desperate. This same man now suggested that everyone kneel again in prayer and each person in turn offer a vocal prayer for the whole group. Many beautiful, pleading, faithful prayers ascended to heaven. But when the last one finished and everyone opened their eyes, the sun was still burning down with greater intensity than before. The ocean was like a giant mirror. It was almost as though Satan was laughing, saying, “See, you can’t go anywhere. There is no wind. You are in my power.”
I thought, “There is a family at the harbor that wants to hear the gospel. We are here in the middle of the ocean and want to teach them. The Lord controls the elements. All that stands between us and the family is a little wind. Why won’t He send it? It’s a righteous desire.”
As I was so wondering, I noticed this faithful older brother move to the rear of the boat. I watched as he unlashed the tiny lifeboat, placed two oars with pins in their places, and carefully lowered it over the side.
He looked at me and softly said, “Get in.”
I answered, “What are you doing? There is hardly room for two people in that tiny thing!”
“Don’t waste any time or effort. Just get in. I am going to row you to shore, and we need to leave now to make it by sundown.”
I looked at him incredulously, “Row me where?”
“To the family that wants to hear the gospel. We have an assignment from the Lord. Get in.”
I was dumbfounded. It was miles to shore. The sun was hot, and this man was old. But as I looked into the face of that faithful brother, I sensed an intensity in his gaze, an iron will in his very being, and a fixed determination in his voice as he said, “Before the sun sets this day, you will be teaching the gospel and bearing testimony to a family who wants to listen.”
I again objected, “Look, you’re over three times my age. If this is to be, let me row.”
With that same look of determination and faith-induced will, the old man replied, “No. Leave it to me. Get in the boat. Don’t waste more time talking. Let’s go!” At his direction we got into the boat, with me in the front and the old man in the middle, his feet stretching to the end of the boat, his back to me.
The glazed surface of the ocean was disturbed by the intrusion of this small boat and seemed to complain, “This is my territory. Stay out.” Not a wisp of air stirred, not a sound was heard except the creaking of oars and the rattling of pins as the small craft began to move away from the sailboat.
The old man bent his back and began to row. Dip. Pull. Lift. Dip. Pull. Lift. Each dip of the oar seemed to break the resolve of the mirrorlike ocean. Each pull of the oar moved the tiny skiff forward, separating the glassy seas to make way for the Lord’s messenger. Dip. Pull. Lift. The old man did not look up, rest, or talk, but hour after hour he rowed and rowed and rowed. The muscles of his back and arms, strengthened by faith and moved by unalterable determination, flexed in a marvelous cadence like a fine-tuned watch. It was beautiful. We moved quietly, relentlessly toward an inevitable destiny. The old man concentrated his efforts and energy on fulfilling the calling he had from the Lord—to get a missionary to a family that wanted to hear the gospel. He was the Lord’s wind that day.
Just as the sun dipped into the ocean, the skiff touched the shore of the harbor. A family was waiting. The old man spoke for the first time in hours and said, “Go. Teach them the truth. I’ll wait here.”
I waded ashore, met the family, went to their home, and taught them the gospel. As I bore testimony of the power of God in this church, my mind saw an old Tongan man rowing to a distant harbor and waiting patiently there. I testified with a fervor as great as any I have ever felt that God does give power to men and women to do His will if they will have faith in Him. I told the family, “When we exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we can do things we could not otherwise do. When our hearts are determined to do right, the Lord gives us the power to do so.”
The family believed and eventually was baptized.
In the annals of history, few will be aware of this small incident. Hardly anyone will know about this insignificant island, the family who waited, or the obscure, old man who never once complained of fatigue, aching arms, painful back, or a hurting body. He never talked about thirst, the scorching sun, or the heat of the day as he relentlessly rowed uncomplainingly hour after hour. He referred only to the privilege of being God’s agent in bringing a missionary to teach the truth to those who desired to hear. But God knows! He gave him the strength to be His wind that day, and He will give us the strength to be His wind when necessary.

What about our children? Do they hear exclamations of joy and hope in the gospel? After a Primary lesson about Joseph Smith’s First Vision, the class was asked to draw pictures to take home and share with their families. The children had been taught about the darkness Joseph experienced before the appearance of the Father and the Son. A six-year-old girl picked up a black crayon and started to draw. She colored the bottom and up one side of the page as dark as she could. When her teacher asked her about the picture, she said she was drawing Joseph Smith in the darkness.

Her teacher inquired: “Do you know that when Heavenly Father and Jesus appeared, all the darkness had to leave? Heavenly Father and Jesus are always more powerful than Satan, and They will protect you.” The child turned back to her paper. In the top corner, she drew an outline of two figures; and then, trading her black crayon for a bright yellow one, she filled the rest of the page with light.