Gospel Story Finder

I know some young women who had questions about modest clothing. To find answers to their questions, they followed this exact pattern: they prayed to Heavenly Father, they studied the scriptures and the words of our latter-day prophets, and they were obedient in living the standard of modesty. As they received answers to their questions, their faith increased and their testimonies were strengthened. I would invite each of you to follow this pattern.

When Sadie was 13, she decided to work on Knowledge value experience 6 for Personal Progress. Sadie was going to memorize two hymns, learn the conducting patterns, and lead them in Young Women meetings.
One of the best places to practice was in the car. Sadie and her mother would put on some music and then figure out the patterns for different songs. It was a lot of fun, and Sadie loved it. “Mom and I would be in the car, and she would help me figure out how to lead. It was really hard, but I really liked it.”
Even the harder time signatures were fun for Sadie. “I ran into songs I couldn’t figure out. I could do the 4/4 time, but the 6/8 and 3/4 took a lot longer to figure out.”
Sadie led her hymns in Young Women and was able to complete her value experience, but conducting music for Sadie didn’t end there. She became a regular in Young Women.
Her Young Women leader mentioned to the ward chorister that if he ever needed a substitute in sacrament meeting, Sadie was capable of doing it. Soon Sadie was asked to lead. But that first time was hard. “I was really scared, and I just looked at my family the whole time. I was too afraid to look out at everybody else. The ward was nice about it. They were supportive of me learning.”
Then she was asked to substitute for a month or two. That’s when she gained confidence. She enjoyed going to the bishop and talking about the topics for sacrament meeting so she could select the right hymns.
When Sadie was 15, the bishop called her to be the ward choir director. “At first,” said Sadie, “I was really excited. Then I realized it was a big calling, and it would be a lot of work. But it’s been great. I’ve had a lot of support from people who sing in the choir and even from people that don’t sing. They will ask how they can help.”
Sadie has sung in choirs since she was seven, but she had never tried to direct one. Now she is clapping out the beats and teaching parts to the choir. “We’re not going to be the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but we really try to focus on the words and the spirit of the song. If we miss a few notes, that’s fine, but if we have the Spirit with us, it’s a lot nicer.”
Sadie would never have guessed that just completing a value experience in Personal Progress would possibly lead to her future educational plans. She loves being a choir director and would like to go into music education and perhaps become a school choir director. “I love music. Now that it’s a part of my life, it really seems like a gift that has been given to me.” Sadie was chosen as a drum major in her school band.
Looking back, Sadie is a little surprised by where she has come since learning how to lead music with her mother as they drove in the car—something they never would have done without being motivated to fulfill her Personal Progress.
“I knew I would gain great things from Personal Progress, but I didn’t know it would shape what I would do every day and a possible career in college. It’s amazing.”

As time went by, a pair of missionaries taught us the riches of the restored gospel, of the doctrine of the plan of salvation, and of eternal families. We were baptized, and when my father began his calling as district president, his first objective was to journey to the temple and receive the blessings which would come because of that sacrifice. It was a 15-day journey covering 4,800 miles (7,725 km)—a journey filled with difficulties and setbacks, highways in poor condition, uncomfortable buses, not even knowing the route, but with great hope in the ordinances we would participate in.
Upon arriving in the city of Mesa, Arizona, we headed down an avenue at the end of which we could see the house of the Lord, gleaming and beautiful. I remember the joy which filled our hearts; we all broke out in songs and praising, and tears ran down the cheeks of many Saints.
Later in the temple, we knelt as a family to hear the beautiful promises about an eternal family, with the certainty that our mother, though absent, was now our mother forever, and we felt the peace which comes from knowing that we are an eternal family.
The promise of life eternal thus gave us the riches of eternity! “Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich” (D&C 6:7).

It was 11:00 at night, and I was in my bedroom after being out with a few high school friends. I knew I hadn’t made the best decisions that night. “But,” I reasoned, “I hadn’t made the worst ones either.”
Frustrated, I picked up a homework assignment. I was so tired that I just wanted to get it over with and go to bed. “I still need to read my scriptures. But I’ll just skip them tonight,” I thought.
I began thinking of everything I was expected to do. Read my scriptures, attend early-morning seminary, attend church and Mutual, get good grades, be involved in extracurricular activities, have a part-time job … The list went on.
I felt so much pressure in every area of my life, especially as the only female Latter-day Saint in my high school. I reminded myself again and again that I might be the only female Latter-day Saint my peers ever met, so I had to be a good example. Yet I knew I was starting to slip.
“I wish I could be carefree like my friends,” I thought. I also wished I didn’t feel so awful when I went to a party or said a bad word, but the truth was I did. It made me feel physically sick when I made choices I knew weren’t the right ones. For some reason, though, I continued to make them.
It was almost midnight when I finished my homework assignment. In five hours my alarm clock would be beeping. I would wake up, drag myself to seminary, and try to get through another day of high school.
Then it dawned on me. I didn’t have to obey all the rules. I could stop attending church, seminary, and Mutual if I wanted to. Just because my family went, it didn’t mean I had to.
It was such a liberating thought. I crawled into bed and was almost asleep when I had a strong impression to read the scriptures. “No,” I thought. “I’m done.”
Again I felt it. This time I thought, “Maybe just one last time.”
In seminary that year, we had been studying the New Testament. I turned to where my marker was in James chapter 1. This was the chapter Joseph Smith had read that inspired him to go to the Sacred Grove and pour out his heart to Heavenly Father. “How ironic,” I thought. I started reading.
Verse 5 was familiar to me: “If any of you lack wisdom …” But it was verse 8 that opened my eyes that night. It said, “A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” I froze. Then I reread it.
I was being double-minded. I claimed to be a Latter-day Saint, but my actions were beginning to say otherwise. And if I continued, no matter what path I chose, I would be unstable and unsure and thus very unhappy.
I needed to know if the gospel was true. I needed to know if getting up every morning at 5:00 a.m. to study the gospel was worth it. I needed to know that I was trying to live my life to the best of my ability, despite at times being ridiculed, because it truly would bring me the most happiness and joy.
It was almost 1:00 in the morning then, but I knelt beside my bed and poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven. I asked Him to help me know what was right, to know which path to take, to lead me by the hand and take away the confusion I was feeling.
Simply, clearly, and peacefully, the thought came to my mind, “You already know.” And I did.
I got off my knees, shut off my light, and went to sleep. Four hours later my alarm went off. Sleepily, I shut it off. A minute later I was up getting ready for another day, early-morning seminary included.
It has been years since that wonderful midnight experience. My testimony still continues to grow. Sometimes it is stronger than at other times. The difference is I know and I have never once looked back.

Before President Hugh B. Brown was a General Authority, he served in England as an officer in the Canadian army and had great power. Men stood at attention before him and called him “sir.” One day Brother Brown received a message that he was wanted in the hospital. When he got there, someone directed him to a little room where a sick young man lay. Brother Brown remembered that he had once been that young man’s Sunday School teacher. “Brother Brown,” said the young man, “would you use your authority in my behalf? The doctors say I cannot live. Will you give me a blessing?” All the pride Brother Brown felt in wearing the uniform of the king disappeared as he laid his hands upon the boy’s head and gave him a blessing. The help that the boy needed was not from any authority of an officer in the king’s army but from the authority of the priesthood.

Brady Howell, age 26, a member of the Crystal City Ward, Mount Vernon Virginia Stake, and Rhonda Rasmussen, age 44, Lake Ridge Second Ward, Mount Vernon Virginia Stake, died in the attack on the Pentagon in Washington, D.C.. Brother Howell was working as a civilian employee for the United States Navy. Sister Rasmussen was working as a budget analyst for the Department of the Army. Her husband of 26 years was also working in the building but was unharmed.

We know some of you say that you do not believe in God. Some of you have even been so unwise as to say there is no God. That kind of statement raises some interesting questions. Do you think your unbelief makes any difference? He won’t go away just because you don’t believe in him. Reportedly, when Galileo was forced to say, contrary to his knowledge, that the earth did not turn, he then added, “And yet it turns” (see Cassell’s Book of Quotations, Proverbs, and Household Words, ed. W. Gurney Benham, London: Cassell and Co., 1914, p. 737). Perhaps you are correct in saying that God is not like you have been told, but how can you know that there is no God? Did he reveal it to you? Have you been there to make sure? All you can really know is that you don’t know there is a God, and that is an admission of ignorance.

Many years ago, I took my sons, Josh (6) and Jared (5), on a fishing excursion in the Tarawa lagoon. I had previously taken the boys on fishing trips to some beautiful lakes and creeks in Utah while attending BYU, but fishing in an ocean lagoon was a completely new experience for them. With a narrow canoe I had inherited from my father, I sat Jared in front of me and Josh behind my back. Then, with glittering moonlight on the horizon, we paddled out into a deeper part of the lagoon. The boys were excited to be with their father on an outrigger canoe.
While watching the boys enjoy the experience, I noticed it was late in the evening, and I should head home before they got tired and sleepy. As I was preparing to pull the anchor in, I heard a sudden splash behind me. I turned around and found Joshua had fallen off the canoe! I had made the mistake of not putting life jackets on us. Josh went straight down into the water.I dashed in after him without explaining to Jared what had happened. I caught Josh by the arm and was pulling him up to the surface when, to my horror, I saw another splash directly over my head. My four-year old son, Jared, also sunk into the water—what a terrifying moment.We’re all going die!” I thought.
Frantically, I grabbed Jared with my left arm and Josh was on the other, then joggled my legs as hard as I could to the surface. Struggling under these circumstances, my legs began to cramp, and I was about to sink with the boys in my arms. But like young Joseph Smith, who was seized upon by some powers and called upon God to deliver him from the power of his enemy4, I also called upon God to deliver us from the dooming power of the ocean.
Thankfully and miraculously, the Lord came to our rescue. My boys, who could barely swim at the time, started acting like extraordinary swimmers. They moved their arms and legs in such a fashion which pushed us to the surface so we could all catch our breath. All of this happened within seconds. But our struggle was not over yet. We discovered upon reaching the surface that our canoe had drifted a few meters away. With feeble legs and two boys in my arms, a few meters seemed to be an unbearable distance for us. Would we make it there? I cried. However, through constant effort and prayer, we finally reached our canoe, and with gratitude, we thanked God for saving our lives.

The Lord has always put an emphasis on the family. Deuteronomy 6:7 reads, “And thou shalt teach [the gospel] diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of [it] when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.” This scripture shows how my mother and father taught us. As we sat in our house, we studied the scriptures and had family home evening. While we “[walked] by the way” (or gardened or fished), my dad always talked to me about the gospel. When we lay down at night, I remember my mother and father telling us bedtime stories from the Bible. And when we “[rose] up” in the mornings, we always started the day with family prayer.

Greg Christofferson, one of Elder Christofferson’s brothers, who shared a room with him for over 16 years, remembers, “Todd was always spiritually inclined and exemplary in his conduct.” Greg notes that a few years after his brother graduated from high school, one of Todd’s outstanding classmates had been praying with his wife about how to raise their young children. When Latter-day Saint missionaries came to their door, the man recalled how good and honorable Todd, one of the only Latter-day Saints he knew, had been. Because of that memory, the man invited the missionaries in, and he and his family joined the Church.

I renewed that prayer daily, week after week, through my mission and afterward, and searched the scriptures for an answer. Then one morning it came. Elder James E. Talmage, in Jesus the Christ, explained that the Savior “had the capacity, the ability to sin had He willed so to do … Nevertheless his insurance against [sin] … is not that of external compulsion, but of internal restraint due to his cultivated companionship of the spirit of truth” (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1973, chapter 10, paragraph 2 from the end, p. 134).
It was a moment of real revelation for me; I understood finally that Christ’s ultimate defense was not his supreme will power but simply that, nurtured by the Spirit, he had no desire for Satan’s grimy alternatives. He loves the things his Father loves. Thus, as his desires became deeds, those deeds reflected a spontaneous righteousness that came from the very depths of his being.
That was the key: to love the things God loves, to make his desires my own, and thus to be truly like him. My problem was that I had been trying to act in godly ways while wanting ungodly things. If I could change the desires of my heart, then my actions would spontaneously become godly.
I felt a kind of hope I had not felt before. I went back to the scriptures, seeking hungrily to learn what God loves. Mormon put the explanation into words for me. What I wanted was charity, which was “the pure love of Christ.” And I could receive it if I would “pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ.” And Mormon also included the promise I needed: “that ye may become the sons of God … that we may be purified even as he is pure” (Moro. 7:47–48; italics added).
I felt the lists of commandments and precepts suddenly transformed by power—the power to change not only appearances but feelings, loves, and desires.

Many years ago, large packs of wolves roamed the countryside in Ukraine, making travel in that part of the world very dangerous. These wolf packs were fearless. They were not intimidated by people nor by any of the weapons available at that time. The only thing that seemed to frighten them was fire. Consequently, travelers who found themselves away from cities developed the common practice of building a large bonfire and keeping it burning through the night. As long as the fire burned brightly, the wolves stayed away. But if it were allowed to burn out and die, the wolves would move in for an attack. Travelers understood that building and maintaining a roaring bonfire was not just a matter of convenience or comfort; it was a matter of survival. (See Mary Pratt Parrish, “Guardians of the Covenant,” Ensign, May 1972, p. 25.)

In 1974 the Lai Hoi-nam family joined the Church. In the short time since they accepted the gospel, many changes have come into their lives. “Even though all four of our children are in school, their actions, as compared with before, are much better and we worry less about them,” said Brother Lai. “If we have any problems we bring them up at family home evening. If we can’t solve them, we pray and fast in all humility and ask our Heavenly Father to give us the strength to improve the situation.”

As the time to leave Nauvoo drew near, the Brethren redoubled their efforts to help as many Saints as possible receive their endowments. Brigham Young wrote, “Such has been the anxiety manifested by the saints to receive the ordinances (of the Temple), and such the anxiety on our part to administer to them, that I have given myself up entirely to the work of the Lord in the Temple night and day, not taking more than four hours sleep, upon an average, per day, and going home but once a week.”

But it was not just the Apostles who were working hard. Many faithful Saints gave freely of their time by washing the temple clothing each night so the temple work could continue the next morning.

The Brethren planned to stop the ordinance work on 3 February 1846. President Young left the temple to make final preparations to leave Nauvoo, but upon seeing a large crowd gathered to receive their endowments, he returned. This delayed his departure for another two weeks, but it meant that 5,615 Saints were endowed before they left Nauvoo.

During a recent trip, Julie and I attended church and saw this verse in action. A young man, soon to leave for his mission, spoke in sacrament meeting.

He said, “You all think my dad is such a good man at church, but …” He paused, and I anxiously wondered what he might say next. He continued and said, “He’s a better man at home.”

I thanked this young man afterward for the inspiring tribute he had paid his father. I then found out that his father was the bishop of the ward. Even though this bishop was serving his ward faithfully, his son felt that his best work was done at home.

My parents did not have a loving marriage. My mom, striving and resilient, tried to make the relationship work for her children’s sakes, but when it became physically dangerous for us to remain with him, she decided to free herself from the 16-year marriage that had drained so much life from her.
Before their divorce, I had been unaware that their marriage wasn’t a loving one, although I did have moments of doubt. There were several incidents where I witnessed the lack of love between my parents, but I didn’t start recognizing them for what they were until years later. Now I look back and can see that even though my parents tried to make the marriage work, they didn’t like each other—they tolerated each other.
After the divorce, I realized I couldn’t use my parents’ marriage as a model for my own future marriage. For a while I didn’t know what a strong, happy marriage looked like. Then, a few years after my parents’ divorce, I started noticing the big differences between their marriage and marriages in which the spouses truly loved and liked each other.

John Sonnenberg, a great Regional Representative, related this experience as a young dentist. They had seven children, all young, and only one car. When his wife went to town she had to take the bus. One day she and the seven children were waiting for the bus. When the bus stopped, the children and Sister Sonnenberg boarded. She put her token in and then stood and put one token in the box for each of her seven children. The bus driver was amazed, and he said, “Lady, are these all your children, or is this a picnic?”
She responded, “They are all my children, and it’s no picnic!”

As Sarah walked quickly down the street, she thought about her problem. Mother’s Day was only a few weeks away, and she wanted to give her mother a present. She already knew what she’d like. At the garden shop Sarah had seen her mother admiring the illustrations of some beautiful irises above a tangle of iris roots. But today when Sarah counted the money in her china bank, she realized that she didn’t have enough for the iris roots. How can I earn some more money? she wondered.
“Oh, well,” she sighed, “maybe I’ll think of something. It’s only Monday.” Then she hurried into the thrift shop where her mother volunteered her time one day each week.
“Hi, sweetie,” Sarah’s mother greeted her. “How was school today?”
“Fine as usual,” answered Sarah. “Did you get any interesting new donations?”
“Yes we did, and I’m glad you’re here to help me. You can sort through that big box in the corner. Put the dresses on hangers and match up the shoes. You know the routine.”
Sarah enjoyed looking through the boxes of rummage items that had once been treasured by someone. The new box seemed to be full of old clothes, shoes, and kitchen gadgets. Near the bottom Sarah spied a black leather purse that looked quite new. She picked it up and examined it carefully. As she opened the clasp, she saw a five-dollar bill tucked into a side pocket.
Without stopping to think, Sarah took the money out and put it into her skirt pocket. She laid the purse aside and finished sorting the clothes. Now I have enough money for mother’s present, she thought. But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t feel very happy about it.
“You’re quiet today,” Sarah’s mother said coming up behind her daughter.
“Mom, where did this box come from?”
“It was picked up at Mrs. Peterson’s. She’s a widow who lives over on Green Street. Why?”
“Well,” said Sarah, “I found this purse in the box and it doesn’t look old like the rest of the things.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Peterson and ask if she meant to give it away,” Mother said. During the telephone conversation, Mrs. Peterson explained that she had misplaced the black purse that morning and had been looking all over for it. She guessed it must have fallen into the box she was preparing for the thrift shop.
“My daughter Sarah found your purse, and she will bring it over to you,” Mother promised Mrs. Peterson on the phone.
As Sarah walked to Mrs. Peterson’s home, she argued with herself. I could just keep the money. She would never know where it went. Mother would love to have the iris starts. But then Sarah remembered what they had been studying in Primary—Jesus would know, and I’d know too! She opened the purse, replaced the money, and closed it. She felt so relieved that she skipped the rest of the way to Mrs. Peterson’s house.
“You look happy,” said Mrs. Peterson when she opened the door. “And I’m happy too, because you found my missing purse. Thank you very much.”
Sarah noticed that Mrs. Peterson had a hard time walking. Suddenly she found herself asking, “Do you need any help around your house? I’m a good worker and can do all kinds of jobs.”
“What a dear child,” responded Mrs. Peterson. “I do have a hard time with my arthritis, but I couldn’t pay you anything. I only have a small pension.”
“That’s OK,” said Sarah with a smile. But she was really disappointed. Instead of finding a paying job, she had agreed to work for nothing.
Sarah offered to help Mrs. Peterson after school each Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. She swept the walks, washed windows, vacuumed, and carried trash. Afterward she’d have juice and visit with Mrs. Peterson. They quickly became good friends, and Sarah enjoyed listening to the wonderful stories that Mrs. Peterson told of her youth. One day Sarah felt glum as she realized Mother’s Day would soon be here.
“What’s your problem, Sarah?” asked Mrs. Peterson. “You seem preoccupied today.” Sarah slowly began telling Mrs. Peterson about her plan for a Mother’s Day gift that hadn’t worked out.
“I think I can help you there,” Mrs. Peterson suggested happily. “My iris bed hasn’t been cleaned in years, and the roots need dividing. If you could do the digging, I could help you separate them. Some of them are pretty enough to be show winners.”
Sarah placed a chair for Mrs. Peterson beside the flower bed and found a hand trowel and a box for the roots. She carefully dug into the dirt and lifted clump after clump of the bulbous roots, and Mrs. Peterson helped her sort and divide them. Then Sarah replanted many of the roots in Mrs. Peterson’s flower garden.
In the house, Mrs. Peterson found a pretty box and some pink ribbon. Carefully they prepared the gift for Sarah’s mother. As they worked, Sarah counted the roots and was excited to see that she had over two dozen, more than she had ever hoped to buy.
“Thank you so much for helping me with my spring housecleaning and garden work,” said Mrs. Peterson as Sarah prepared to leave.
“Thank you!” said Sarah happily. “You have given me far more than I ever hoped to earn, and besides, now I have a wonderful new friend!”

I was impressed by the testimony of a single adult in Washington, D.C., who, as a recent convert, found herself suddenly immersed in the pursuit of her family history. After her first sacred experience of participating in the temple ordinance work for several of her kindred family, she expressed her feelings with tears of joy. “Now,” she exclaimed, “I am no longer the only member of the Church in my family!”

In 2002 I learned an important lesson about problems. While in Asunción, Paraguay, I met with the city’s stake presidents. At that time, Paraguay faced a terrible financial crisis, and many Church members were suffering and unable to make ends meet. I had not been to South America since my mission and had never been to Paraguay. I had been serving in that Area Presidency for only a few weeks. Apprehensive about my inability to give guidance to those stake presidents, I asked them to tell me only what was going well in their stakes. The first stake president told me about things that were going well. The next mentioned things that were going well and a few problems. By the time we got to the last stake president, he mentioned only a series of vexing challenges. As the stake presidents explained the magnitude of the situation, I grew increasingly concerned, nearly desperate, about what to say.

Just as the last stake president was finishing his comments, a thought came into my mind: “Elder Clayton, ask them this question: ‘Presidents, of the members in your stakes who pay a full tithing, pay a generous fast offering, magnify their callings in the Church, actually visit their families as home teachers or visiting teachers every month, hold family home evening, study the scriptures, and hold family prayer each day, how many have problems they cannot address on their own without the Church having to step in and solve their problems for them?’”

Responsive to the impression I had received, I asked the stake presidents that question.

They looked at me in surprised silence and then said, “Pues, ninguno,” meaning, “Well, no one.” They then told me that none of the members who did all of those things had problems they were incapable of resolving on their own. Why? Because they lived in the finest homes. Their faithful living provided them the strength, vision, and heavenly help they needed in the economic turmoil that surrounded them.