Gospel Story Finder

Last month the Salt Lake City newspapers carried an obituary notice for Fred Sudbury. It indicated that he was survived by his wife, Pearl, and a son, Craig; that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; and that his marriage had been solemnized in the Salt Lake Temple. What the obituary notice could not adequately convey was the inspiring human drama which preceded Fred’s passing.
Some years ago, Craig Sudbury and his mother came to my office prior to Craig’s departure for the Australia Melbourne Mission. Fred Sudbury, Craig’s father, was noticeably absent. Twenty-five years earlier, Craig’s mother had married Fred, who did not share her love for the Church and, indeed, was not a member.
Craig confided to me his deep and abiding love for his parents and his hope that somehow, in some way, his father would be touched by the Spirit and open his heart to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I prayed for inspiration concerning how such a desire might be fulfilled. Such inspiration came, and I said to Craig, “Serve the Lord with all your heart. Be obedient to your sacred calling. Each week write a letter to your parents; and on occasion, write to Dad personally and let him know that you love him, and tell him why you’re grateful to be his son.” He thanked me and, with his mother, departed from the office.
I was not to see Craig’s mother for over eighteen months. She came to the office and, in sentences punctuated by tears, said to me, “It has been almost two years since Craig departed for his mission. He has never failed in writing a letter to us each week. Recently, my husband, Fred, stood for the first time in a testimony meeting and said, ‘All of you know that I am not a member of the Church, but something has happened to me since Craig left for his mission. His letters have touched my soul. May I share one with you?
“‘“Dear Dad,
“‘“Today we taught a choice family about the plan of salvation and blessings of exaltation in the celestial kingdom. For me it just wouldn’t be a celestial kingdom if you were not there. I’m grateful to be your son, Dad, and want you to know that I love you.
“‘“Your missionary son,
“‘“Craig”
“‘After twenty-six years of marriage, I have made my decision to become a member of the Church, for I know the gospel message is the word of God. My son’s mission has moved me to action. I have made arrangements for my wife and me to meet Craig when he completes his mission. I will be his final baptism as a full-time missionary of the Lord.’” He heard the message, he saw the light, he embraced the truth.
A young missionary with unwavering faith had participated with God in a modern-day miracle. His challenge to communicate with one whom he loved had been made more difficult by the barrier of the thousands of miles that lay between him and home. But the spirit of love spanned the vast expanse of the blue Pacific, and heart spoke to heart in divine dialogue.
No missionary stood so tall as did Craig Sudbury when, in far-off Australia, he helped his father into water waist-deep and, raising his right arm to the square, repeated those sacred words: “Fred Sudbury, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (see D&C 20:73).
The prayer of a mother, the faith of a father, the service of a son brought forth the miracle of God.

It was the first Christmas I got to work. My friend and I cleaned gardens, scrubbed walls, and did all sorts of jobs all month. We ended up with $10 each, one week before Christmas.
Everybody had already bought their gifts, and I was debating whether to give my $10 away or not. But when Christmas day came, I gave the money I had worked so hard for to my mom. She cried because she knew what I’d been through to get it.
I felt so happy! I felt I had really done something good. I’ll never forget that Christmas, ever!
—Vao Paongo, 13Nuku‘alofa, Tonga

I left your arms so long ago
To venture into life,
Into this world of beauty
Of challenges and strife.
What is it you would have me do?
What treasure should I find?
The answer comes so quietly
And gently to my mind.
It isn’t gold or diamonds
Or something you can see,
The Lord has sent me out upon
The quest for the best in me.

He slapped his chunky palms on the table again. “Make da win stop—now,” he yelled. His face turned beet red.
She hadn’t seen Scotty this disturbed before. She felt a little frightened and wondered what would happen if she couldn’t distract him or change his mind. But worse than the fear of what he might do, his stubbornness and anger grated still tender wounds. It felt too much like when Mom and Dad had separated. Six eternal months ago. Impasse. No solution. They had been stubborn. They still were.
When she let herself, she could still hear the echoes of the fights, the name calling, the doors slamming. As terrible as those were, they were better than the deafening silences that followed. Her world had tilted, and her order slid out of control.
She often wondered if Dad’s business failure was the real cause of the trouble. All she knew for sure was that it seemed to start when the money wasn’t there any more. No new clothes. Bill collectors on the phone and at the door. For a month after the separation she sulked, mad at the world, mad at her parents, and mad at Heavenly Father. Stubborn was the reason the family was apart now. Mom and Dad both demanding that something change, when it couldn’t. Stubborn—like Scotty, only worse. They knew better. They went to church, they used to pray, and the family used to work. Scotty was stubborn. They chose it. The anger was back. If she wasn’t careful, it would come pouring out, out of control like it sometimes did. It would land on Scotty and that wasn’t fair.
It was plain though that Scotty wasn’t going to eat lunch unless she made the wind stop. Maybe if she said a prayer. The divorce had taught her about prayer. When her parents first separated, she almost blamed Heavenly Father for the pain she was feeling. At night she muffled her sobs with a tear-soaked pillow until she fell asleep. In the morning she was never sure if it was anger, or loss, or confusion that greeted her first. Finally, though, when it was all more than she could bear, she had learned to ask for help, and the Savior’s healing hand would touch her heart for a moment while he retrieved from some lost corner of darkness, her peace—the peace that kept slipping away, but not so fast anymore.

Then we attended a district conference in Rio de Janeiro. The inspired messages from the pulpit prepared our hearts for an unforgettable moment. The counselor in the mission presidency bore his testimony about Jesus Christ, after which the congregation sang “I Need Thee Every Hour.” In that moment, the Holy Ghost reconfirmed the truthfulness of the things we already knew: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the Lord’s kingdom on earth, the road back to the celestial mansion of our Eternal Father.

My wife and I and Marcus—Marisa wasn’t old enough yet—were baptized July 2, 1972, the most important date in our lives. All the members of our branch attended our baptisms.

I have been a member of the Church now for one year, and I still have a lot of questions. Last Sunday I was called to be the teachers quorum president, and I wasn’t too sure of all the duties and responsibilities of a teacher. On Monday I received the May issue of the New Era. The article on the role of the teacher really answered a lot of my questions as did Brother Backman’s answer in Q and A. It came just in time!
Buzzy JohnsonSouth Pasadena, California

Just before his death from cancer in 1981, the controversial writer William Saroyan told the press, “Everybody has to die, but I always believed an exception would be made in my case. Now what?”

One young woman, serving in a stake Relief Society presidency and at the time also laboring under the pressure of an especially challenging project, lost her temper one morning during a presidency meeting. The cause of her unhappiness had little to do with the question at hand and was related more to the fact that at the time she was laboring under intense home pressure on a major task and was feeling frustrated and frazzled. Afterward, she was embarrassed at her behavior and immediately called to apologize for her outburst. Her friends in the presidency were generous and told her not to think another thing about it. Still she wondered if they might think less of her, now that they’d seen her at less than her best. But that evening the doorbell rang around dinnertime, and there stood the other members of the presidency with dinner in hand. “We knew when you lost your cool this morning that you must just be worn out. We thought a little supper might help. We want you to know we love you.” The young woman was amazed. In spite of her outburst that morning, her friends were there to offer support rather than criticism. Rather than seize the opportunity to bash her, they were filled with the spirit of charity.

“You can talk yourself out of anything, but if you’ve got real faith in the Lord, it will work when mother isn’t there, when the Church system isn’t there, when embarrassment doesn’t apply anymore and conscience may have gone sort of dead. If you love the Lord, you’ll say, ‘I can’t hurt him. He loves me. He cares.’ This was a marvelous thing for the dejected little girl I held in my arms in New York recently. She said, ‘nobody cares.’ I helped her to understand that the Lord cares. And suddenly she could care about herself when she knew that the Greatest of all cares.”

One Sunday afternoon when I was in eighth grade, I was playing touch football. We have been counseled by prophets to keep the Sabbath day holy, and I’m sure someone had told me that playing sports was not a good Sunday activity. But I was playing football anyway. Another player elbowed me in the mouth and gashed my lip. I had to get stitches. From that day forward, I committed to never play sports, work, nor do anything else on Sunday that was unholy. I have successfully kept that commitment to this day.

Russell’s parents didn’t go to church very often. But they taught him how to pray and sent him to church every Sunday. When he was a teenager, he gained his own testimony. He knew Heavenly Father loved him, and he decided to always obey Him. When he got older, his parents started going to church too.

Sets of sisters don’t usually come by the dozen except in the Bennion First Ward, Bennion Utah East Stake.
In the Young Women program, with about 40 girls enrolled, 24 come in sister sets. In many ways it has added a new dimension to the lessons and activities of the Young Women. Older sisters can tell their younger sisters about the importance of sticking with their values and working hard in school. And the younger sisters listen more carefully because they often admire their older sisters and the things they are doing. Sisters not only share wardrobes but also the tears of joy and sorrow that go with growing up.
Brenda Jeppson, the Young Women president, wanted to include all the girls in the Young Women in that sisterly feeling. They launched a secret sister project where each girl was assigned to remember another girl in small acts of kindness and thoughtfulness.
As the year drew to a close, with several Laurels graduating and several new Beehives coming into the program to join their older sisters, the Bennion First Ward still can claim sisters by the dozen.

I noted that we also bear our testimonies by our lives. In World War II I was stationed at an army camp in Pennsylvania. We lived in a little ward in which our stake patriarch also lived. His name was William G. Stoops. Brother Stoops worked at a machine shop in the little town of Waynesboro, Pennsylvania. Everyone called him “Pappy.” He was a kindly, gentle, wonderful, exemplary member of the Church. All who met him honored and admired him. One time a nonmember with whom he worked said something like this: “I don’t know much about the Mormon church. I have never met with the missionaries, and I have never studied the doctrine. I have never been to one of their services, but I know Pappy Stoops; and if the Church produces men like Pappy Stoops, it has to have much good in it.” We never know the power of our own example for either good or bad.

I have a testimony that the things the bishop asks us to do will help us in our lives. The bishop asked the Primary kids this year to memorize the articles of faith. I memorized all of them. Later I was on the bus with my friend, and the conversation popped up about our beliefs. I told her that I read the Book of Mormon, and I didn’t really know what to say after that. And then the eighth article of faith popped in my head, and I recited it.
Allison H., age 9, Illinois, USA

One morning while the Prophet Joseph Smith was visiting with a group of men in front of his house in Nauvoo, a man came up and reported that the house of a poor brother who lived some distance from town had burned down the night before.
All of the men said they felt sorry for the man. But the Prophet put his hand into his pocket, took out some money, and said, “I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars. How much do you feel sorry?”

At about this time, I also received the strong impression that I should become a full-time missionary. After serving two years in the Navy, I was able to get my parents’ permission to serve a mission. There I had the privilege to testify of the Book of Mormon, of which I was once ashamed, and to proclaim the gospel in my own language. My mission widened my understanding of the gospel and deepened my testimony of the restored truth.

Perhaps that’s one of the reasons Braeden was so thrilled to have his dad baptize him. Braeden’s three older brothers, Logan (18), Karsten (15), and Kyler (12), were all baptized by their uncle Kelly Keetch. When Braeden was seven, he set a goal to be baptized and hoped that his dad would be the one to do it. Six months before Braeden turned eight, his dad was baptized! Logan, Braeden’s oldest brother, baptized his dad on that memorable day.

A woman learns how service connects people and changes ministering from an obligation to an opportunity.

When I was a young boy, my family would gather around our piano, which is now more than a hundred years old. My mother had a beautiful soprano voice. At Christmas she played the piano as she led us in singing Christmas carols and hymns.
Even as a young boy, I felt joy in singing those songs. The music filled our small home with a spirit of peace. I could feel not only the love of my mother and father and two brothers, but of my Heavenly Father and the Savior Jesus Christ. Now when I see that piano, memories of love with my family and love from the Savior flood back over me.

Eternal perspective and temple covenants have also strengthened Knud and Bodil Christensen’s marriage. Knud manages an electronics and appliance store, and Bodil teaches school. Health problems brought one trial after another, recalls Bodil, now Relief Society president of the Herning Branch.

“There have been many mountains for us to climb, but we could always count on each other for support,” says Bodil. This understanding alludes to her difficulty with childbirth, Knud’s struggle with cancer and subsequent chemotherapy and recovery, their infant daughter Katharine’s meningitis, and the faith and gratitude these have all brought to the Christensen household.

“Going to the temple for strength has provided a spiritual core to our marriage,” adds Knud. He is a man of quiet strength, yet he and his outgoing wife are equally yoked.