Gospel Story Finder

I was impressed the other day when the national president of the Junior Chamber of Commerce of America came with his wife and two other couples into my office, brought in for a courtesy call by a local Jaycee who was a member of the Church. After we had talked about things in the world and about the responsibility of this young man, who was president of the Junior Chamber, I said, “Maybe you would like to know something about the Church.”
He said, “Yes, I would.”
Then I turned to the young man who had brought them in and said, “Will you tell them something about it?”
He said, “Well, President Tanner, I thought you would.”
I said, “No, you tell them about the Church.”
He looked this other young man in the eye and said, “I want to tell you a little bit about the Book of Mormon, in which we believe, and which we know is the word of God.” He told them what it was, how it was obtained by the Prophet, and how it was translated; and as he gave them this information he said, “And I want to tell you that I know it is true, and I bear my testimony to you people here today that that book is true, that it is the word of God, and I would like to refer you to the promise in that book”—which promise you all know.
Then he said, “Would you like to have a copy of the book?”
And the Jaycee president said, “I surely would. I am interested.”
That young man who gave that testimony was Richard Moyle.

Years later, on April 19, 1893, a special meeting was held for all General Authorities and stake presidencies in the recently dedicated Salt Lake Temple. By this time, Brigham Young had long since passed away, and Wilford Woodruff was president of the Church. In this meeting, President Woodruff spoke of seeing Brigham Young and Heber Kimball in a vision. They were riding to a conference in a carriage, and they invited Wilford to join with them. Wilford got in the carriage and asked Brigham Young to speak.

Brigham stated, “I am through with my preaching on earth, but I have come to impress upon your mind what Joseph had told me at Winter Quarters, and that is: seek always to have the Spirit of God, and it will direct you aright.”15

President Woodruff passed the same message to those in the meeting: “Teach the people to get the Holy Ghost and the Spirit of the Lord, and keep it with you, and you will prosper.”16

Now, I get pretty tender on this point. I served as a lonely soldier in a great conflict some years ago. I just think somehow you and I and your children have got to get the lump back in the throat when we see the flag, when we hear our national anthem, when we read about our history and review the great contributions of this country and its preparation by the Lord himself. I mentioned this briefly in my conference talk last week. The situation is still very forcefully upon my mind. I recall helping to shoot a lock off a concentration camp on an island in the Pacific. Because we are in devotional and have ladies present I won’t attempt to describe the filth and the misery, the pain and the muck I saw there. Three thousand people had been incarcerated for over three years. Over thirty babies had been born that year alone—all with terrible malnutrition and disease. As I was helping to evacuate these natives back to a safe part of the beach where medical aid and comfort could be given, I was interrupted by a thump on my boot. I looked down, and wallowing in the mud was a human being. I later learned he was a sixty-seven-year-old Protestant minister who had been trapped on the island during the invasion. He was 6?1? and weighed 85 pounds. We got him on a stretcher and cleaned the mud off his face, and I asked what I could do to help. As we were preparing for evacuation (I’ll never forget this lesson in American history), he said, “Soldier, do you have a flag?”

I said, “I don’t have one on me, but I can secure one.” We secured one from a local jeep, I handed it to him, and he held it on his bosom and welled up with tears. He said to me (I was nineteen years old at the time), “Thank God you came.” I have often thought, as I looked through my daughter’s history book, “Where is that kind of feeling—that ‘Thank God you came’?” I saw one battle in which I took part described in a U.S. history book for eleventh grade, and it gave us two lines. That kind of hurts my feelings—not because I was so important out there, but I saw the price that some of my buddies paid for those two lines in your history book. I hope you have the sense to instill in your youth, your children, the desire for patriotism in defense of this country and love of God with it, because it’s important. I think your precept here will be important, and how you do it and the way you do it will make the difference in the outcome of this great nation of ours.

At church, I was called as a ward clerk and later as a counselor in the bishopric. I couldn’t believe that someone in a wheelchair could serve. My accident had made me feel useless, but working in the Church made me feel useful and helped me realize I could contribute. I love the opportunity to grow closer to Jesus Christ as I serve.
As a counselor in the bishopric, I wanted to be guided so I could be better at my calling. That made me want to prepare more for each Sunday. I got into the habit of reading my scriptures, and I had opportunities to bear my testimony. Being a leader at church even helped me become a leader at work. I built up the feeling that I could lead and speak up, allowing me to lead in other areas.
“Working in the Church made me feel useful and realize that I could contribute,” says Posenai. “I love the opportunity to grow closer to Jesus Christ as I serve.”

In conclusion, I’d like to tell you about a man I’ve met who lives in the Magna Central Stake. About a year ago I went to his stake conference, and in an evening meeting on Saturday they had a video about this man, John Cash. It was a video about a man who is paralyzed from the neck down, a quadriplegic. I could not believe what I was seeing. He was a man who, at age 27, just recently out of military service, had gone to work for Kennecott Copper. He was working up in one of the high areas and fell thirty-five feet. Because of that fall he became paralyzed. For thirty-one years he has lived in his bed. His legs and his hands are so malformed now that it tears you apart when you visit him.

He knew nothing about Christ, he knew nothing about the Church, and he knew nothing about righteousness when he had that fall. But little by little he began to study the words of his great Leader, his great Teacher. He began to take them into his life, think about them, and pray about them. He became active in the Church. In the early years they were able to take him in a wheelchair to the house of the Lord.

For twenty-seven years, beloved brothers and sisters, a paralyzed man has been doing his home teaching to six families every month. He does it over the phone. He has a woman who rings the number, and on the first or second day of every month he calls up his six families: “John, how are you? How is your wife? How are the kiddies? Is there anything I can do for you? I have a little message I would like to leave with you tonight that the prophet has asked us to share with you.” While the family listens through their phone receivers, he delivers his message.

I went over to see him after the conference, I was so touched. I saw his wall. He has a great, big, long wall in the basement where he lives with pictures of missionaries, couples who have been married in the house of the Lord, former Speaker of the House of Representatives “Tip” O’Neill, and many, many others. I learned that every month he writes to every serviceman in the stake. Every month he writes to every missionary. He tells them how Magna is doing in their ball games and all about the community and about the gospel.

The bishop told me that when they want people to go to the temple, they have John Cash call to invite them to go to the temple. When they want someone to work on the welfare farm, they have Brother John Cash call. Beloved brothers and sisters, he has followed the mandate, the example, of Jesus of Nazareth. He has become a lot like him. He is blessed and accepted by thousands of people who have known him over those twenty-seven years that he has been exercising leadership that is unbelievable.

The LeGault family joined the Church after they were tracted out by missionaries ten years ago. Although Nathalie was only eight years old when the missionaries came, she searched to find out for herself if the Church was true. “When I was nine years old, I knew it was true,” she says. “My relatives said the girls were joining the Church because their parents had joined. But I said no, I know it’s true. It was my decision to join. I always tell young people you have to have your own testimony, not just the testimony of your friends or family.”

My wife and I have a friend who took this challenge to heart. Later, she wrote about her experience and described how she was forever changed by it. She wrote: "I have been praying specifically for an increase of charity for several months. I have prayed daily, out loud, several times a day, for this important gift. Gradually my perception of others has changed: it seems as if I had been watching people on a little old black-and-white television for all these years. Now I am seeing them in 3D on a plasma HD big-screen TV. I have begun to not just love the people around me but to enjoy them. Before, I may have kept my distance, but now I am genuinely interested in everyone."

Mexico City: It wasn’t a typical visit to the home of less-active members: a tape of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir was playing, and the Book of Mormon was on the table. Was this the right house?
Roberto Wilson and his wife Maria Teresa hadn’t been to church for months. But when they received a phone call saying a General Authority, a regional representative, and a member of the stake presidency (who was their home teacher) wanted to visit them, they weren’t stricken with horror or guilt. “We felt honored that hey would visit us!” says Maria.
Did she put on the Tabernacle Choir tape just to impress them? “No, I always have my Choir tapes playing. The music relaxes me.”
After a prayer, the leaders chatted with Roberto about his work at the bank and then asked about their feelings for the Church. Maria mentioned some past problems. The leaders expressed understanding and then invited them to return to Church. “They told me I should be progressing,” says Roberto, “and they challenged me to receive the priesthood and to take my wife and children to the temple.”
How did the Wilsons react? “It was good for them to visit us,” says Roberto. “Their clear intention was to gather us like fish in their nets because we had strayed.”
“My husband told me that ours was a chosen home to have such visitors come,” says Maria. “Now we felt it was our responsibility to be in church. I thought of the callings I’d had before, and I felt bad that I didn’t have one then.”
The immediate challenge was to attend stake conference the next day. The Wilsons did so and have continued to attend church. Although Roberto had been a member for four years, he had never received the priesthood. One month after the visit, he received the Aaronic Priesthood. In another month and a half, he was ordained an elder. “We’re planning to go to the temple,” he says, “and I’d like my son and daughter to go on missions someday.”
They speak of the missionaries, home teachers, and friends who have encouraged them over the years. Then, reflecting back on that special visit: “It gave me joy to talk with those brethren; they have great hearts.” (See: “We Come with Love.”)

Dear Topher,
I’m Cindy’s mother. You probably don’t know me. Or maybe you do, a little. Cindy most likely told you about her family in some of her letters. She’s told us a good deal about you.
Cindy passed away last week, Topher. She wanted me to tell you good-bye and that she would see you later. She said for you to work on your testimony every day because it will help make your trials much easier to bear. And you know what, Topher? It does. It does!
Write us when you can. We would like to keep in touch.
Love,
Cindy’s mom
Dear Cindy’s family,
I cried a lot when you told me about Cindy. Then, well, it’s hard to explain, but a warm feeling came over me. It felt like the sun when it pushes down through a bunch of dark, wet clouds. I know Cindy is happy, just as she said she would be. And what she said about you asking me to work on my testimony? Well, I am. I want one, too, so that when things get hard or confusing I can be strong—and happy, even when I’m sad.
I’ll write again soon.
Love,
Topher

A short while ago I heard the testimony of a woman who, with her husband, strayed from the path of safety, breaking commandments and, in the process, nearly destroying their family. When each of them could finally see through the thick haze of addiction and recognize how unhappy their lives had become, as well as how much they were hurting their loved ones, they began to change. The repentance process felt slow and was, at times, painful, but with the help of priesthood leaders, along with help from family and loyal friends, they made their way back.

I share with you a portion of this sister’s testimony of the healing power of repentance: “How does someone go from being one of the lost sheep and gripped by [sin], to this peace and happiness we now feel? How does that happen? The answer … is because of a perfect gospel, a perfect Son and His sacrifice for me. … Where there was darkness, there is now light. Where there was despair and pain, there is joy and hope. We have been infinitely blessed by the change that can only come through repentance made possible by the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”

One day my sister told me about a young woman in her ward who had become pregnant. This young woman continued going to church and seemed happy and excited about the upcoming event in her life. The other young women were confused by what they perceived as her seemingly flippant attitude about the situation.
But my sister, who was a visiting teacher to the mother of the young woman, learned of the countless nights the young woman had cried herself to sleep, in misery over the choices that had led her to this predicament. After many weeks of torment, the young woman decided that she could continue to mourn over her actions, or she could move forward and be happy. Because of Christ’s atoning sacrifice, she could accept the consequences of her decisions and once again become clean through repentance.

Just a few years ago, we converted a minister from up in the Northwest. He sat in my office and he said: “Brother Richards, when I think of how little I had to offer my people as a Methodist minister compared with what I now have in the fulness of the gospel as it has been restored, I want to go back and tell all my friends what I have found. Now,” he said, “they won’t listen to me; I am an apostate from their church.” But he gave up his ministry and ran the elevator here in our capitol building so that he could support himself and join the Church. He sat in my office and said: “I can’t wait until I can go into that temple with my wife,” and I have since met him in the temple.
He also said: “When I joined the Church, I didn’t feel that I could say that I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, but I believed that he was a prophet.” Then he added: “But when Brother Burrows [and I know Brother Burrows] laid his hands on my head, and ordained me to the priesthood, something went through my being such as I had never felt before in all my life, and I knew that no man could do that for me. It had to come from the Lord.” That is what we find when people are open-minded enough to be willing to listen and understand what the Lord has really done in restoring his truth to the earth.

When I read the article “Darrell, His Mission, and Me” (May 1993), it made me do a lot of thinking. My brother left to go on his mission to North Carolina on July 28. I’ve never really gotten along with him because we’re five years apart. But I started writing him letters, and I feel a lot better about our relationship because he knows a lot more about my feelings. I’m really grateful for the article.
Becky BeldenColumbia, Tennessee

I still remember the moment I was glad for social distancing.
I’d been given the news that, as South Africa embarked on its lockdown in an effort to curb the spread of the COVID-19 virus, 9.6 million school children in South Africa would be going without food.
The school feeding scheme in South Africa forms a vital form of social support. For many children in the country, it is the only meal they can reliably look forward to each day.
As a journalist, I had just finished five consecutive interviews with various leaders from civil society. They were desperately concerned about how the children would get through the next few months.
“I am highly and extremely worried about what the kids are eating,” one lady who usually runs a feeding scheme for 150 children in one of Johannesburg’s townships had told me. “And there’s just nothing, absolutely nothing I can do about it.”
After hours of similar conversations, I could hear my voice beginning to crack from emotion. At the end of the last interview, I hung up the phone, put my head into my hands and cried.
It was then that I was glad that for social distancing. In normal times, I would probably have been having that conversation face to face. Crying would have been awkward, to say the least.
At least this way I could sob without being seen.
I felt a mounting sense of heaviness and desperation. How could I sit in my home doing nothing while millions around me were going to bed with empty stomachs? I felt like I needed to do something, and yet, in the circumstances, I did not know what.
And then the text message came.
It was from a sister in my ward, a perennial do-gooder. She told me about an old age home that she had been assisting. The home had permission to remain open during lockdown and was now helping to feed the extra mouths that usually relied on feeding schemes that had been forced to shut. They needed food, and lots of it.
At first, I planned to simply go to my friend’s home and drop off some food donations. But then a thought occurred to me. What if I were to open up my home as a collection point? What if, instead of simply donating to the cause, I created my own “forcefield” of influence?
I created a digital poster for distribution. I double-checked the legality of what I was doing. I collected plastic containers and lined them up outside my gate. Then came the hard part: sending the poster, along for an appeal for help, to my neighborhood WhatsApp group.
There were about 250 participants in the group, and I knew some could be harsh critics. What if they attacked me for suggesting that people leave their homes in order to drop off food? What if I was accused of inadvertently spreading the virus? What if I exposed one of my three young children to COVID-19? To be completely honest, I was terrified.
After re-writing the message about 20 times, with my heart in my throat, I finally pressed send. A few minutes later I received a message from a stranger.
“We would be happy to put a box of food together for you,” he said. “Thank you for this.”
For the second time in a few days, I felt my eyes fill with tears.
The phone calls started shortly thereafter. There were people I had never met who had heard about the project from a friend and wanted to help. Friends—local and international—wanting to transfer cash from afar. A sister from my ward sent a truck from her local wholesaler. And a seemingly unending stream of strangers silently deposited maize meal, rice and canned goods outside my gate.
In the end, I raised R100,000 in cash and food donations. Some sisters from my ward sewed 150 cloth masks. Instead of helping one home, we were able to help three. Hundreds of families were assisted at a time of desperate need thanks to the combination of many small efforts. Galvanized by this experience, my friend went on to organize a nonprofit organization called Bubele (meaning kindness and generosity in Xhosa), helping unemployed people to clean up the city and receive food parcels in return.
What did this experience teach me? It taught me the sacred interlink between faith, hope and charity.
Taking that first step of faith was truly difficult and scary for me. But the result?
A sense that our Heavenly Father knows and is mindful of each one of His children. A greater feeling of love for my fellow men. An ability to better see the potential in everyone around me. An inkling of charity, in the truest sense of the word.
The sweetest part about it, though, was hope. I felt that feeling of despair begin to dissipate. I felt, as Elder Jeffrey R. Holland puts it, that when I when I exercise faith and determination, I can keep moving, keep living, and most importantly, I can keep rejoicing.1

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

I went to Baur Dee’s house often that summer. I felt so comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings with her. One time the conversation turned to serious subjects. In a quiet, rather hesitant voice she told me that she had an incurable kidney disease that would take her life. Although I was concerned, I didn’t really comprehend what she was telling me. However, in a matter of months, she was gone. She was 27 years old.
After the funeral, as we girls stood somberly around the open grave at the cemetery, we promised each other that we would visit Baur Dee’s final resting place together every Memorial Day and that we would never, ever allow her memory to die.
Each Memorial Day for many years we dragged ourselves out of bed before it was light, gathered flowers, attached a card that said, “To Baur Dee, from your girls,” and made our way to the cemetery. We often speculated about whether the members of Baur Dee’s family ever noticed the flowers and note and wondered who we were.
Gradually, some of us went away to college, some married and moved away, until only a few of us made the annual trek. Eventually I found myself going alone and from then on did so, always tying a note to the flowers, a note which read, “To Baur Dee, from her girls.”

I have five older sisters who all got married in their early twenties. Growing up, I expected my life to look just like theirs—but it didn’t. I graduated college with no fiancé or serious relationship prospects, started a career, moved back in with my parents for a while, traveled, bought a house, had amazing roommates, and charted my own course. I never felt at all excluded in my family, but there were times that I felt very single and wanted a husband and children like my sisters had.
And wasn’t that what God wanted for me too?
I wasn’t always lonely, of course. And I certainly knew that God hadn’t abandoned me—I had many amazing blessings in my life. I was able to focus on my spiritual and mental health, I volunteered and met incredible people, and I had the time and energy to serve in unique ways. When I felt discouraged, I kept telling myself that I was learning and growing and that God was aware of me.
Eventually I did get married, and it was absolutely worth the wait. A few days after our wedding, I had this very clear thought: “I am so grateful for the wait. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
I was honestly a bit surprised by this moment of revelation. Wouldn’t I have wanted to meet my husband much sooner? But for me, I was a better person and spouse because of all I had learned and experienced while waiting for this eternal blessing. I would have missed out on so much growth without that time.
Of course, one person’s timing isn’t better or worse than another’s. The timing of marriage is up to you and God, and growth can happen at any stage of life—married or unmarried, with or without children, etc. And I would continue to keep learning and growing; obviously marriage isn’t a final destination in our growth and spiritual development. But for me, there were crucial experiences that would likely not have happened under other circumstances, and I am grateful for how they have shaped who I am.

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, one of our missionaries preached on that dream of Nebuchadnezzar in one of our meetings where we had some investigators, and I stood at the door to greet them as they went out. A man came up and introduced himself as a minister, and he said, “You don’t mean to tell me that you think that the Mormon Church is that kingdom, do you?”

And I said, “Yes, sir, why not?”

He said, “It couldn’t be.”

I said, “Why couldn’t it?”

He said, “You can’t have a kingdom without a king, and you don’t have a king, so you don’t have a kingdom.”

“Oh,” I said, “my friend, you didn’t read far enough. You just read the seventh chapter of Daniel, where Daniel saw one like the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven, ‘and there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him.’ (Dan. 7:14.)

“Now,” I said, “my friend, tell me how can the kingdom be given to him when he comes in the clouds of heaven if there is no kingdom prepared for him? That is what we Latter-day Saints are doing.”

The members’ ability to receive, in their native tongue, that reassurance from modern-day prophets was thanks in large measure to a team of translators who suffered their own losses during the disaster.
Assigned to provide live interpretation from the islands for the first time rather than from Salt Lake City, the translation team had a choice to make after the disaster struck. The team could turn interpretation over to Salt Lake City on short notice so that they could tend to the needs of friends and family affected by the quake, or they could fulfill their assignment.
Aliitasi Talataina, the translation supervisor and interpretation coordinator, said she felt an impression that there were many who could tend to the physical needs of the people or bury the dead but that “this is what the Lord would have us do [for] the living and generations to come.”
Because a disaster management team took over the service center where the interpretation equipment had been set up, the team had to find a facility that had the digital telephone lines and other technical requirements necessary to provide remote, simultaneous translation.
Sister Talataina said the team’s faith was like Nephi’s in that they said, “Even if we [had] to do this under a tree, we [would] go and do” (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
With the Lord’s help they found a location, and the necessary equipment was transferred, set up, and tested in the few days prior to conference.
“We felt the hand of the Lord in accomplishing what we were commanded,” Sister Talataina said.
Because of the team’s efforts, when conference began, members who took time from the massive cleanup effort to participate in the proceedings were able to hear and understand the Lord’s message for them.

Besides the wallabies and kangaroos, other marsupials living near the Scout camp included the potoroo, ring-tailed possums, echidnas, and wombats. The famous Tasmanian devils have never been sighted on Maria Island.
This information alone allowed the boys to sleep easier at night, although many still felt sleeping was the biggest problem at the camp.
“The nights were really bad. The possums were out in force raiding tents and rubbish bins all night. In the whole camp the worst thing was trying to get to sleep. There was one rock that seemed to follow me all night, and between that and the wind and the cold I didn’t sleep much,” said Stephen Szekely, of Launceston.
“The possums through the night gave me the willies because we had to keep bashing them out of our food box and a possum got in our tent and climbed up our tent pole. We broke our torch (flashlight) trying to get him out of there. Then the emus got in our tent and dunged all over Heath’s, Andrew’s, and my sleeping gear. But the kangaroos were great; they weren’t pests like the emus,” said Geoffrey Jones, a nonmember from Glen Huon.