Gospel Story Finder

Roland Denny, a Navajo student on the Church’s Indian Placement Program, has two families. And he tries to make the best of both worlds in which he lives. During the school year he lives with the Alan Mecham family in Salt Lake City, where he attends Hillside Junior High School. He plans to be either a doctor or a dentist when he grows up. For now, when he isn’t doing schoolwork or practicing the piano, Roland enjoys swimming or playing baseball.
An active member of the Parley’s First Ward deacons quorum, Roland can be counted on to pass the sacrament and to collect fast offerings. In the Mexican Hat Branch, where he passes the sacrament in the summer with his brother Brent, members live so far apart that they must bring their fast offerings to church themselves. And because it is an area where daytime temperatures often soar to well over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, drinking water must be drawn from deep wells, put into fifty-five gallon drums, and hauled by pickup trucks to the homes.
Bobby Denny, Roland’s father, attended Navajo Community College at Tsaile, Arizona, and for fourteen years was director of instructors in the Navajo Adult Education Program. Brother Denny is first counselor of the Mexican Hat Branch. Alice Denny, Roland’s mother, is a trained nurse and works for the Utah Navajo Development Council. She has worked in leadership positions in her branch Relief Society. The Denny family was elated last year, when Roland, his three brothers, and his two sisters were sealed to their parents in the Jordan River Temple.
When Roland returns to his natural family in Mexican Hat for the summer, he keeps busy with family chores and his flock of chickens, ducks, and turkeys. He also started a snow-cone business last summer to earn some spending money. In July he and other Mexican Hat youngsters participate in the Mad Hatter’s Fling, a riotous, four-mile-long race down the San Juan River. They ride inner tubes, homemade boats, or anything else that will safely float.
Sometimes, when the open-air shade house in the garden at home doesn’t provide enough comfort for sleeping, Roland’s family makes an excursion to Cedar Mesa, a cool, wooded area to the north of Monument Valley, where Roland’s grandfather, Julius Denny, lives. A traditional Indian herbalist, Grandfather Denny is also a miner and a rancher. Roland likes to help him with his herds of Rambouillet sheep, Charolais cattle, and Angora goats. Roaming the vast reaches of Monument Valley, with its gigantic, storied sandstone formations, helps Roland understand and appreciate the Creator’s wondrous handiwork.

When I was little, I used to ask myself questions like “Does the Holy Spirit speak?” “When I go to heaven, will I see God?”
Now that I’m a bit older, I can look back and see that Heavenly Father always guided me and showed me evidence that He existed, but I wasn’t always able to recognize His hand in my life. I was blessed to be raised in a home with the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, but I lived on a borrowed testimony for a long time. It was difficult for me to believe that God was truly real.
One day, when I was about 15, my bishop announced a ward temple trip. I was already used to going to the temple with my family, so I didn’t think this was a big deal. I never really felt much anyways and didn’t understand the importance of the covenants and ordinances performed in the temple.
When the day arrived, I entered the temple and changed into my white jumpsuit. As I walked past a mirror, I saw a glimpse of myself dressed in white and with a smile on my face. As I waited for the rest of my ward members, I was in awe. I was contemplating the beauty of the baptismal font and the paintings when suddenly, I felt the Spirit gently touch my heart.
I will never forget the words that came to my mind: “Orson, this is the house of the Lord. He loves you. He wants you to change your life and strive to become a better person little by little.”
I felt so much love in those words but was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. I hadn’t taken the temple seriously up until this point. So I said a prayer in my heart, asking Heavenly Father to forgive me.
And I knew He heard my prayer because I felt so much peace in my heart.
That day, I deepened my faith and received the real testimony of the gospel that I longed for. That day, I was able to say as firmly as those two disciples of John: “I have found the Messiah” (see John 1:41).
Ever since this experience, I have striven to better recognize Heavenly Father’s influence in my life by seeking Jesus Christ each day. Although the world can make it hard to hear the Savior’s voice at times, I know now that He truly is real and that He is with me.

Several weeks ago my mind was stimulated when Elder Douglas L. Callister of the Seventy was asked to give a brief history of his grandfather LeGrand Richards in a quorum meeting. Among other interesting things he reported was this: When Elder Richards was a young bishop, he visited those who were less active. He boldly invited them to speak in sacrament meeting to the subject “What my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints means to me.” Remarkably, several of them responded positively, and that experience put them on the road back to full activity in the Church.

“If I weren’t a Mormon” seemed to be my favourite phrase this month. If I weren’t a Mormon I wouldn’t be getting up at 5:30 in the morning, braving 6° C. and less temperatures just to go to seminary. If I weren’t a Mormon I’d be more accepted at school, and I’d have fun going to “all weekend” parties with friends, and I wouldn’t have to put up with all those jokes aimed at my religious beliefs. If I weren’t a Mormon life would be so much easier.
When I finally reached school that morning I was cranky, depressed, and tired. I wouldn’t be like this if I weren’t a Mormon, I thought. I missed the bus because Dad likes long family prayers. And Mum couldn’t drive me because she had to go to some Relief Society meeting.
I was late for class so I took a shortcut through the back of the library where I saw my ex-boyfriend embracing a “perfect 10” blonde. We had stopped going out because I wasn’t willing to compromise my standards. Seeing those two together was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I ran into a nearby empty room and cried.
When I finally made it to class I slipped into my seat just before I was marked absent. The daily notice sheet was read out loud reminding us of the upcoming long weekend and the camp planned at The Entrance, a coastal holiday town about five hours north of Sydney, Australia. That’s just what I needed. I wondered if Dad and Mum would let me go? No, they wouldn’t because I have to go to church Sunday and I have to go to family home evening Monday.
I was so bored in maths that I calculated how much more pocket money I’d have and all the things I could buy if I didn’t have to pay tithing.
The next morning the alarm went off at 5:30 as usual. Time to go to seminary again. Why should I have to go? Why get up at 5:30 every morning? Then I heard Mum’s cheery voice telling me that if I didn’t get up I’d be late.
The topic that morning was, “What has Joseph Smith done for you?” I could answer that easily. If it weren’t for Joseph Smith I wouldn’t be a Mormon.
“Will you read Doctrine and Covenants, section 122, verses seven and eight, please?” my teacher asked.
Wearily, I took out my scriptures and started reading. At first I was not really listening, but then something made me start to pay attention to the words.
“And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”
I choked out the last verse, tears brimming. “The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?”
A few days later I was standing on the balcony of the Opera House, watching the boats on the water under the harbour bridge. I couldn’t remember why I had felt so restricted because of my religion. My problems seemed pretty small and insignificant compared to those of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith. I felt selfish as I asked myself, “Art thou greater than he?”
I was standing on a balcony overlooking the greatest harbour in the world in the greatest country in the world. The lights of Sydney seemed to be towering and challenging the stars above. “I’m so proud of my country,” I said to myself. “It’s so full of unique beauty, people, and culture. I thank God for our beautiful flora, fauna, and freedom. And I’m proud to be a part of the ever-growing and only true church in the world.”
My favourite phrase still is, “If I weren’t a Mormon,” but in a different way. If I weren’t a Mormon I wouldn’t have such a wonderful family, such great friends, and such a clear understanding of the purpose of life.
By the way, I calculated how much tithing I have paid, and when I look at how much God has given me, there’s no comparison.

My brothers and sisters, I begin by sharing an event from a large ward in Provo about 20 years ago. During a sacrament meeting, a little boy made a big disturbance. After several minutes of trying to quiet this noisy three-year-old, the mother desperately handed him to the father, who was seated on the aisle close to the front of the chapel. By this time the noise distracted the speaker and audience, and everyone was very conscious of the parents’ plight. The father’s patience was much shorter than the mother’s. In a few moments he put the little boy over his shoulder, stood up, and started for the back door. Looking back over his father’s shoulder and sensing his determined steps, the little boy became quiet and apprehensive. Just as the father approached the rear door of the chapel, the little fellow reached his arms out toward the stand and shouted, “Bishop, help!”

Eight-year-old Sarawuth Buttho’s eyes lit up as he looked into the package of clothes. He turned and darted up the stairs into the living area of his “home on stilts” in the Ubon Branch in Thailand. After a few minutes, he called to his father, “Dad, I’ve never seen clothes like this. Come and show me how to put them on.”
Sarawuth’s sister, Oranut, and her friend, Chanchira Thondee, clasped their bags of treasure and ran next door to Chanchira’s house, where they tried on their new clothing. Seeing Oranut’s smile, watching Chanchira whirl in her ruffled lavender dress, or catching a glimpse of Sarawuth in his first-ever white shirt and tie would have been more than enough to thank the children in Bangkok for their wonderful gift.
The Primary children in the English-speaking branch in Bangkok, Thailand, had heard about their brothers and sisters in the Issan region of Thailand. They knew that they were very poor and that they had very few clothes to wear. In fact, they learned that the only change of clothing these children had was their school uniform, which they wore to school every day. They did not have any special clothes for Sunday.
Encouraged to begin to serve their fellowman in any way they could, the Primary children in Bangkok began a project to share what clothing they could spare with the children in the Issan region. They brought the clothing they wanted to donate to Primary, where the leaders made sure everything was clean, pressed, and mended. Clothing for about twenty children was then placed in plastic bags and tagged to show the size and age of the boy or girl who would receive it.
After missionaries serving in the region distributed the parcels of love, they reported some wonderful stories of gratitude:
Uthaiwan Arkomkong, age three, lives with her father and mother in a small room at the side of an equipment yard where her father works as a mechanic. Normally very shy, little Uthaiwan laughed and danced around the room when she put on the yellow ruffled dress that was in her package.
In the Srisaket Branch, two eight-year-old girls received dresses on the very day they were to be interviewed for baptism. They were happy to have their pictures taken in their new dresses on this special day.
When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!
The love of the Primary children in Bangkok for their young brothers and sisters in the Issan region was returned many times with bright smiles and warm “thank yous” as gifts of the heart were exchanged—children to children.

Until just recently I would have said one life preserver is as good as another. But not anymore! What changed my mind?

Recently I attended a safety exhibit that stressed accident prevention. The water safety display intrigued me most. It included a variety of familiar pieces of lifesaving equipment. On each piece of equipment was a simple card with just one word in bold, block letters. The card read YES on the pieces of equipment that were safety approved; NO on those that were not. I was amazed. I thought all the equipment was approved and would save one’s life in an emergency. The man in charge of the display said, “Most people think all equipment is perfectly safe, but they are just taking things for granted. That’s the tragedy of it. Instead of saving you, some of this equipment could get waterlogged, weigh you down and contribute to your drowning.”

He demonstrated several pieces of equipment with the YES label and then said, “If you want to be safe and sure, use only approved equipment.”

Such a man was Paul Tingey. Just a month ago I attended his funeral services here in Salt Lake City. Paul grew up in a fine Latter-day Saint home and served an honorable mission for the Lord in Germany. A companion of his in the mission field was Elder Bruce D. Porter of the First Quorum of the Seventy. Elder Porter described Elder Tingey as one of the most dedicated and successful missionaries he ever knew.

At the conclusion of his mission, Elder Tingey returned home, completed his studies at the university, married his sweetheart, and together with her reared their family. He served as a bishop and was successful in his vocation.

Then, without much warning, the symptoms of a dreaded disease struck his nervous system—even multiple sclerosis. Held captive by this malady, Paul Tingey struggled valiantly but then was confined to a care facility for the remainder of his life. There he cheered up the sad and made everyone feel glad. Whenever I attended Church meetings there, Paul lifted my spirits, as he did all others.

When the World Olympics came to Salt Lake City in 2002, Paul was selected to carry the Olympic torch for a specified distance. When this was announced at the care facility, a cheer erupted from those patients assembled, and a hearty round of applause echoed through the halls. As I congratulated Paul, he said with his limited diction, “I hope I don’t drop the torch!”

Brethren, Paul Tingey didn’t drop the Olympic torch. What’s more, he carried bravely the torch he was handed in life and did so to the day of his passing.

Spirituality, faith, determination, courage—Paul Tingey had them all.

When I joined the missionary preparation class, things didn’t go smoothly. I was battling personal conflicts and worried that I wouldn’t make a difference as a missionary. I felt more anxious every day.
I struggled with these feelings for a while and prayed to know if I really was good enough to serve.
One day, as I checked my email, I opened a message from ComeuntoChrist.org. There, in big, bold letters, were the words “You Are Enough!”
These words pierced my heart, and I felt comforted. My prayers had been answered! I realized that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are fully aware of our circumstances and can answer our prayers in the most personal ways.

I remember when I went to a daddy-daughter date with him. We sang a song together, and everyone there square danced. He was the life of the party. I was so proud. Then there was the time I was going on a pioneer trek with handcarts for a week. He gave me a blessing that I would have strength enough to do it. I got sick, but not so sick that I couldn’t finish. Again I was glad my dad held the priesthood.

Sharee Jones of Richfield, Utah, was receiving initiatory ordinances in the temple on behalf of her deceased sister. She had a spiritual impression that her sister, who had disabilities and died of heart failure at age 17, was not encumbered in the spirit world and would be resurrected with a perfect body. While participating in this temple ordinance, Sharee realized that because of the Savior’s Resurrection, her sister’s body would no longer have restrictions when she was resurrected.
As we participate in temple ordinances, the Holy Ghost can reveal gospel truths in important and sometimes personal ways. Sharee’s experience illustrates one way the Lord’s power can be manifested in the temple, in part fulfilling His words in the Doctrine and Covenants. After the dedication of the Kirtland Temple in 1836, the Lord appeared to the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and told them, “I have accepted this house, and my name shall be here; and I will manifest myself to my people in mercy in this house” (Doctrine and Covenants 110:7; emphasis added).

Mary likes to tell the story of how The Children’s Friend began. As early as 1894 the women of the Primary wanted to publish a little magazine to be used by the teachers in giving their lessons. They asked the First Presidency if they might have permission to do so. However, the Brethren knew that a number of magazines were having financial trouble and they did not feel that women inexperienced in preparing a publication would be able to produce and sell one. However, in 1902 Sister Felt and Sister Anderson went again to the First Presidency and this time were told that they could try it, with the understanding that they would give the women their blessing but no funds. With the support of all members of the Primary General Board, Sister Felt and Sister Anderson visited a little printing office that was on the corner where Hotel Utah now stands.
The printers were discouraging. They said they would not agree to do the printing unless the women could give them cash in advance or would arrange for property to be used as a guarantee for payment. Sister Felt owned a small home and this was placed in the hands of the printers in case the magazine was not successful. During the days of planning and preparing the first issue, these two women saved every piece of string they could find. Scraps of wrapping paper were carefully ironed, folded, and laid aside with the string. When the first issues were ready for mailing, they addressed them all by hand, wrapped them into bundles with the paper, tied them with the hoarded string, and carried them in several trips the four long blocks to the post office.
Sister Anderson was asked to be editor and business manager for a period of six months at a salary of $30.00 a month. She remained with the magazine for thirty-eight years!

Another way to receive spiritual insights about our own eternal natures is from a parent or a leader who can reassure us because of his or her inspired glimpses into who we really are. The Spirit has whispered very specifically to me on occasion about the true identity of my children. I remember the night before one of our babies was born I had the distinct impression that this baby would be a great friend and helper with each of its siblings. This has proved to be absolutely true. Another time when one of our teenagers was very downcast because of involvement in an automobile accident, I distinctly heard these words in my mind: “I love this child and will guide his life.” And He has. Such glimpses have come again and again to me. When they have needed encouragement, I have been blessed with insights into the great and noble eternal spirits of my children.

A few days ago there came to my office a man from Las Vegas, Nevada. His wife and married daughter were with him. When we had accomplished the purpose of his visit, the younger woman asked if I would accept something from her thirteen-year-old daughter. She unwrapped a painting of two butterflies around a flowering shrub.
The mother explained that her daughter had been struck by a car in a terrible accident when she was four years of age. Her body was badly broken. She was left paralyzed from the shoulders down, a quadriplegic—without the use of arms or legs. She had painted this picture holding a brush between her teeth and moving her head.
As I listened to that story, the painting grew in beauty and value before my eyes. It became more than a portrayal of butterflies. It represented remarkable courage in the face of blinding adversity; tenacious practice in holding and moving the brush; pleading prayers for help; faith—the faith of a child, nurtured by loving parents, that she could create beauty notwithstanding her handicap.
Some might say that this is not a masterpiece. Without knowledge of its origin, that could be the judgment. But what is the test of art? Is it not the inspiration which comes from looking at it?
I will hang this small painting in my study so that during occasional hours of struggle there will come into my mind the picture of a beautiful little girl, robbed of the use of her feet and hands, gripping the handle of a paintbrush in her teeth to create a thing of beauty. Thank you, Krystal, for what you have done for me. I hope the telling of your story will bring a new measure of strength to others who, facing discouragement, have felt they could not go on. I hope that your example will be as a polar star to lead them in the darkness through which they stumble.
It may not be easy. It may be fraught with disappointment and challenge. It will require courage and patience. I remind you of the faith and determination of the thirteen-year-old girl who, holding a paintbrush in her teeth, created the painting I showed you earlier. Love can make the difference—love generously given in childhood and reaching through the awkward years of youth. It will do what money lavished on children will never do.

Later, in 2018, President Jameson shared this emotional experience:
“We were called as the Kinshasa temple president and matron. We came early for the express purpose of conducting recommend interviews so as many as possible would be ready to enter the temple. We asked for volunteers to serve as workers in the temple. There were immediately 250 volunteers and every single one of them had a valid temple recommend! They were just waiting for the day! Most had only attended the temple once for their endowments—many were bishops and stake presidents—but they had not had the opportunity to attend again. The day had come for regular temple attendance!”

Children, you are a force for good in this world. You have a great impact on your parents and all the adults around you. Your expressions of love and your approach to life often make us think of the Savior’s teaching that we need to become as little children. When our five children were young, it was often a struggle to get all seven of us together for family home evening. Then one day, our ten-year-old daughter said, “Dad, rather than giving the lesson first, why don’t we play a game first?” And she was right! That change was what our family needed to eagerly gather together.

It was my turn to stop someone and talk to them about the Church. I had been in Germany only two days and I was already terrified of the people and my calling as a missionary.
I frantically searched the street for someone I thought might react positively. I wondered how I was ever going to do this for the next 18 months.
I didn’t want my companion to know how scared I was, so I held my breath and walked up to a woman in her early 40s. But instead of asking her the questions I had intended to, I turned from her and ran. The anticipation was more than I could handle—I had to escape.
When I was finally able to collect my thoughts, the embarrassment swelled inside of me and I desperately wanted to hide. My fear had been exposed, and it was preventing me from being a good missionary.
Unfortunately, as the days went by, my fear did not subside, and I began to worry I would never be a happy, brave, and successful missionary. My fear became the main topic of all my private prayers.
Nothing seemed to help until I had been in the mission field about two weeks. It was a chilly spring morning and my companion was making breakfast. I was sitting on the floor looking up scriptures on missionary work and reading them out loud.
“Doctrine and Covenants 84:88,” I said. “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also.” [D&C 84:88] My voice broke. My mind raced as I realized the support I had as a missionary.
I started again, “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”
I had no reason to be afraid of teaching people about the gospel. Heavenly Father was on my right hand and on my left, and his angels were around me to make me strong. From that morning on, whenever a wave of fear came over me, I just imagined those angels all around my investigator, my companion, and me. There was no way I could lose with that kind of support.

I am a footballer [soccer player]. At football practice, my coach has us do lots of endurance tests and exercises. I feel good when I set goals and reach them.
I made a spiritual goal to stay awake when I say my prayers at night. I used to lie down in my bed while I prayed, but now I sit up or kneel down. I also try to change up what I say in my prayer and not just repeat the same things. This new goal has helped me feel better at night because I actually complete the prayers!

We’ll be there, Linus. We’ll share your lonely vigil in that ever-so-sincere pumpkin patch. We’ll wait with you and hope with you and almost believe with you. But the Great Pumpkin won’t appear. He can’t. He always spends Halloween with the Hales family in Vestal, New York.
He doesn’t rise from among the vines though. He hides slyly in the mounds of orange-yellow globes at one of the several nearby pumpkin farms, and the Haleses have to come search for him.
Today they’re at Jackson’s Pumpkin Farm in Campville. The open-air pumpkin market is decorated with pumpkin animals, pumpkin people, pumpkin houses. Pumpkins lie all about in great glowing heaps.
Holly, age 14, rolls out a huge, round, golden pumpkin and looks at it critically. It’s beautiful, but it’s not the one. Stephen, age 11-going-on-deacon, studies an elongated pretender with a touch of green in its yellow skin. It would make a fine jack-o’-lantern, but it’s not the Hales family pumpkin.
Dad and Mom rummage about in the towering stacks of autumn gold. Lots of wonderful pumpkins here, but not the one-and-only-authentic-no-doubt-about-it-can’t-miss-right pumpkin.
They take their time. It’s not something they want to be wrong about. It is Kristin who finally finds it—Kristin Lehtinen and her brother Duane, ages 14 and 11. It’s hiding under an obese, presumptuous fruit that’s trying to pass itself off as the perfect pumpkin.
The judges gather around and confer. They examine the candidate from all angles. Yes, this is it! If it’s not the Great Pumpkin, it’s certainly a great pumpkin.
Kristin and Duane are the heroes of the day. They’ve saved the family from the unthinkable disaster of taking home the wrong official Halloween pumpkin.
If you’re wondering why the heroes are not Haleses, it’s because the Haleses and the Lehtinens are good friends who often do things together. Today, October 12, the Lehtinens have joined the Haleses for a Columbus Day family home evening activity. And thank heavens they have!
And that brings us back to the family home afternoon in October. After buying their pumpkins, the Haleses and the Lehtinens moved on to their favorite cider mill for a jug of fresh-pressed cider and a bag of crisp, juicy apples. The local apples are justly renowned, and cider squeezed from them is the sweetest, tangiest nectar this side of heaven. A frothy cider toast is one family tradition the Haleses will drink to at the drop of a cup.
Trailing the deep fragrance of apples, they next drove to the farm of Brother and Sister Hogan to get some cornstalks. Then they went home to make great jack-o’-lanterns out of their great pumpkins.
They decorated their front door and porch with pumpkins, gourds, and cornstalks. Up and down the streets around them, people were doing the same. It’s a tradition the whole town shares. Ghosts appeared in neighborhood windows, and monsters emerged from the shrubs.
It was starting to look like another traditional Hales Halloween, and that suited everyone just fine. Because in the Hales home, family traditions are a family tradition.

This summer, our family went on a two-month cross-country road trip from North Carolina to California! We stopped at many places on the way. We read the Friend all along the way and liked taking pictures with it.
Before the trip, Spencer asked the missionaries for 10 copies of the Book of Mormon and some pass-along cards to hand out. We gave them to people like hotel employees and tollbooth attendants. Once Kylie got to take a Book of Mormon to the clerk at a gas station. He said he already had a Bible, so Kylie explained why the Book of Mormon is special. He said he would try to read it! Kylie says, “I loved traveling with my family, visiting relatives, seeing God’s beautiful creations, and being a missionary too!”