Gospel Story Finder

I remember many years ago, when we lived in New York, coming back to Utah on vacation and stopping to visit a ninety-one-year-old aunt of my wife’s. She lived alone in a small but comfortable home. At her age, she was completely self-reliant. Her home was clean and orderly; her house was filled with beautiful plants, so well cared for. Around one chair we found the well-used scriptures and other church publications. In our conversations with her we were amazed at her knowledge of current events. At the end of our visit she taught us a great lesson. She said, as we prepared to leave, “You know, I have found in life that it is not enough just to do. You also have to be.”

In August 2020, amidst the throes of a pandemic, Len Hurley celebrated his 100th birthday and a lifetime of service—to his family, country, and fellow members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Victoria’s COVID-19 lockdown restrictions meant no visits from family or friends, however, staff at Len’s Bentleigh East nursing home made sure it was a special day for Len, decorating the hall with balloons and making a garden-themed birthday cake to share with fellow residents.
Len’s family joined in the celebrations via Zoom. Letters from the queen and prime minister were also presented to the centenarian.
When asked about the secret to his longevity, Len says living the health standards of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and staying active have been key.
“Live well, don’t drink, don’t smoke and learn to love work,” says Len.
Leonard Hurley was born in Murtoa, Victoria. He grew up on his family’s farm, where he worked hard and got up to plenty of mischief with his twin brother, Ken, and his younger brother, Russell.
When WWII broke out, Len and Ken were eager to serve and enlisted early. Len served in the 9th Division Cavalry (tanks) from 1938 to 1948, fighting in Egypt, El Alamein, Syria, and Borneo.
A member of the Church of England at the time, one of Len’s most unforgettable experiences in the Middle East was taking two days’ leave in Jerusalem.
His experiences at war quickly taught him the fragility and value of life. During one campaign, Len’s commander ordered him to fire on an Italian gunner. Len pressed the wrong button, bringing the tank to a stop. The men on the tank vacated and were eventually replaced by another group. Soon after, the Italian gunner hit the tank with a shell, killing everyone inside.
“It was a pretty nasty experience,” remembers Len. “I wouldn’t be here today if I hadn’t pressed that button.”
Grateful to have survived war in the Middle East, Len returned home and married May, the love of his life, in 1944.
“[May] used to work in a shop in Murtoa, close to where we lived,” says Len. “I always said to myself I’d marry her. Married life was beautiful.”
They had one daughter, Rhonda, in 1951 who tragically passed away as a young adult, leaving behind a daughter, Chantelle. Chantelle now lives in Len and May’s house with her partner and two children, Ky and Remi. She says her grandfather’s life has been one of service.
“He was always out doing things for other people,” says Chantelle. “I’m sure he’s painted almost everyone’s house at one time or another. He liked to work hard.”
Shortly after Rhonda passed away, Len and May found hope in the message brought to their door by missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“It’s made a big difference in our lives,” Len says. “I’ve missed going to Sunday meetings this year, but I listen to the recorded [Zoom] meetings every week.”
One of his most treasured experiences in the Church was serving as bishop of the Moorabbin ward for three and a half years.
“It was a choice experience to be considered worthy to serve as a bishop,” says Len.
Although he has experienced his share of loss, including the passing of his fellow veterans, brothers, wife, and daughter, Len continues to find joy in his relationships with his granddaughter and two great-grandchildren, friends, and church family.
He also stays active and enjoys his hobbies, which include cooking, gardening, keeping up with the footy (Australian rules football), writing in his journal every day, and reading.
“I feel very blessed to have had the life I’ve had,” reflects Len. “I enjoy life, good friends, keeping up with things as much as I can. Life’s worth living.”

Recently I was invited to sit in on a graduate class elsewhere—a group most critical and equipped with jaw-breaking terminology and bone-breaking arguments against religion. At one point I said, “So I’ll know where you’re coming from, would each person here consider: If you had only one question to address to Jesus Christ, what would you ask him?” Well, most of those in the room had a grievance and said that they would ask a kind of “pick-a-fight” question. But one lad, in the corner, didn’t respond, and, having been urged, finally said with a thoughtful smile, “Well, if I had only one question, I would ask, ‘How am I doing?’”

The varsity volleyball team at Antioch (California) High School, shown here with their coach Lou Panzella, had reason to celebrate last season. Their season record of 36–2 won them their second consecutive section championship.

The seven LDS boys on the team also had another reason to be pleased. In addition to bringing their nonmember teammates to several church activities, they persuaded their coach (who isn’t a member of the Church) to allow them to come to their early-morning practice late so they could attend seminary each morning.

The coach has been so impressed by these young men that he recently made a special point of visiting Temple Square on a trip through Salt Lake City.

As a physician, I once had a patient come to me after a routine blood test was out of normal range. In the days between her test and our visit, she had consulted the internet about what the results could mean. When we met, she was upset and worried. I tried to explain the results, but she was still distraught.
“Don’t worry about what could go wrong,” I told her. “That’s my job! It’s what I’m here for. I studied hard to know what to do about this. We’ll get through this together, and if you’ll follow my instructions, you’ll know how to be whole again. Trust me and let me take the burden of medical worries. Then you can focus all your energy on getting better.”
This helped to calm her fears. We made plans to run more tests, and I promised we’d move forward together.

It was at the height of his career as an orthodontist that Randall Kay Bennett and his wife, Shelley, felt “a distinct impression” to prepare to serve missions. This meant that they would need to sell their home right away.
The reason for the prompting didn’t become immediately apparent—it took three years for their home to sell, a process that “took a lot of patience” and required that they “show the Lord that we were really committed,” Elder Bennett says. “We continued to trust in the Lord and tried to stay close to Him through frequent temple attendance, daily scripture study, prayer, fasting, and service to others.”
Shortly after their home finally sold, Elder Bennett was called to serve at the Provo Missionary Training Center and then as president of the Russia Samara Mission.
“It was wonderful—and very humbling—to know that the Lord had been mindful of us and had been preparing us,” Elder Bennett said. “We have come to know that the Lord is aware of the thoughts of our minds and the feelings of our hearts. We have learned to trust that He knows better than we do, that He knows more than we do, and that He loves us.”

Karine Dauriat, 12, of Poitiers, talks about life before and after November 1987. “That’s when our family was baptized,” she explains. “There’s a big difference in our home since we joined the Church.”
“That’s true,” says her sister Christelle, 15. “We’re nicer to each other. I think it’s because from the first time the missionaries came, we felt a feeling of joy. We started to understand why we’re here on earth and what we should be doing.”
“We have a common goal now,” says another sister, Sandrine, who is 17. “We want to keep the commandments so we can be an eternal family.”

When Gordon and Del [Spencer’s brothers] put up hay … they would pitch it up on the wagon and Spencer would tromp it down. The older boys liked to reach the wagon at the same time, both with huge forks of hay. One would pitch his hay on top of Spencer, knocking him down, then the other would add his load. They would laugh while Spencer picked himself out, infuriated, threatening terrible punishments when he grew up . …

Occasionally he would enjoy a minor revenge. One hot Monday afternoon, hearing the Primary bell across the fields, Spencer said, “I’ve got to go to Primary.” As Spencer told the story years later: “They said, ‘You’re not going to Primary.’ I said, ‘If Pa were here, he’d let me go to Primary.’ Any they said, ‘Well, Pa is not here, and this is one time you’re not going to Primary.’ Gordon was seven years older than I was and Del was five . … They kept throwing the hay up and it all piled in the center of the wagon. They said, ‘What’s the matter with you up there?’ There was no sound. They looked off across the field and I was halfway to the meetinghouse.” (Pages 37 and 38.)

A General Authority whose personal influence was felt far and wide was the late President Spencer W. Kimball. He really made a difference in the lives of countless individuals.

When I was a bishop, the telephone rang one day, and the caller identified himself as Elder Spencer W. Kimball. He said, “Bishop Monson, in your ward is a trailer court, and in a little trailer in that court—the smallest trailer of all—is a sweet Navajo widow, Margaret Bird. Would you have your Relief Society president visit her and invite her to come to Relief Society and to participate with the sisters?” We did. Margaret Bird came and found a warm welcome.
Elder Kimball called on another occasion. “Bishop Monson,” he said, “I have learned that there are two Samoan boys living in a downtown hotel. They’re going to get in trouble. Will you make them members of your ward?”
I found these two boys at midnight sitting on the steps of the hotel playing ukuleles and singing. They became members of our ward. Eventually each of them married in the temple and served valiantly. Their influence for good was widespread.
When I was first called as a bishop, I discovered that our record for subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine in the Sixth-Seventh Ward had been at a low ebb. Prayerfully we analyzed the names of individuals whom we could call to be magazine representative. The inspiration dictated that Elizabeth Keachie should be given the assignment. As her bishop, I approached her with the task. She responded, “Bishop Monson, I’ll do it.”
Elizabeth Keachie was of Scottish descent, and when she replied, “I’ll do it,” one knew she indeed would. She and her sister-in-law, Helen Ivory—neither more than five feet tall—commenced to walk the ward, house by house, street by street, and block by block. The result was phenomenal. We had more subscriptions to the Relief Society Magazine than had been recorded by all the other units of the stake combined.
I congratulated Elizabeth Keachie one Sunday evening and said to her, “Your task is done.”
She replied, “Not yet, Bishop. There are two square blocks we have not yet covered.”
When she told me which blocks they were, I said, “Oh, Sister Keachie, no one lives on those blocks. They are totally industrial.”
“Just the same,” she said, “I’ll feel better if Nell and I go and check them ourselves.”
On a rainy day she and Nell covered those final two blocks. On the first one she found no home, nor did she on the second. She and Sister Ivory paused, however, at a driveway which was muddy from a recent storm. Sister Keachie gazed about 100 feet (30 m) down the driveway, which was adjacent to a machine shop, and there noticed a garage. This was not a normal garage, however, in that there was a curtain at the window.
She turned to her companion and said, “Nell, shall we go and investigate?”
The two sweet sisters then walked down the muddy driveway 40 feet (12 m) to a point where the entire view of the garage could be seen. Now they noticed a door which had been cut into the side of the garage, which door was unseen from the street. They also noticed that there was a chimney with smoke rising from it.
Elizabeth Keachie knocked at the door. A man 68 years of age, William Ringwood, answered. They then presented their story concerning the need of every home having the Relief Society Magazine. William Ringwood replied, “You’d better ask my father.”
Ninety-four-year-old Charles W. Ringwood then came to the door and also listened to the message. He subscribed.
Elizabeth Keachie reported to me the presence of these two men in our ward. When I requested their membership certificates from Church headquarters, I received a call from the Membership Department at the Presiding Bishopric’s Office. The clerk said, “Are you sure you have living in your ward Charles W. Ringwood?”
I replied that I did, whereupon she reported that the membership certificate for him had remained in the “lost and unknown” file of the Presiding Bishopric’s Office for the previous 16 years.
On Sunday morning Elizabeth Keachie and Nell Ivory brought to our priesthood meeting Charles and William Ringwood. This was the first time they had been inside a chapel for many years. Charles Ringwood was the oldest deacon I had ever met. His son was the oldest male member holding no priesthood I had ever met.
It became my opportunity to ordain Brother Charles Ringwood a teacher and then a priest and finally an elder. I shall never forget his interview with respect to seeking a temple recommend. He handed me a silver dollar, which he took from an old, worn leather coin purse, and said, “This is my fast offering.”
I said, “Brother Ringwood, you owe no fast offering. You need it yourself.”
“I want to receive the blessings, not retain the money,” he responded.
It was my opportunity to take Charles Ringwood to the Salt Lake Temple and to attend with him the endowment session.
Within a few months, Charles W. Ringwood passed away. At his funeral service I noticed his family sitting on the front rows in the mortuary chapel, but I noticed also two sweet women sitting near the rear of the chapel, Elizabeth Keachie and Helen Ivory.
As I gazed upon those two faithful and dedicated women and contemplated their personal influence for good, the promise of the Lord filled my very soul: “I, the Lord, am merciful and gracious unto those who fear me, and delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end. Great shall be their reward and eternal shall be their glory.”

May I just offer one or two more thoughts. One of our Latter-day Saint men during World War II was over in England. He had gone to an officer’s club where they were holding a riotous kind of celebration. He noticed off to the side a young British officer who didn’t seem to be enjoying himself at all. So he walked over to him and said, “You don’t seem to be enjoying this kind of a party.” And this young British officer straightened himself a few inches taller than he was before and replied, “No, sir, I can’t engage in this kind of a party, because, you see, I belong to the royal household of England.”

As our Latter-day Saint boy walked away he said to himself, “Neither can I, because I belong to the royal household of the kingdom of God.” Do you realize that, you young people? There are things that you cannot and must not do if you remember your heritage.

Extended family and the Church community can augment the support of the father. Kathleen H. Hughes, former counselor in the Relief Society general presidency, spoke about her experience with postpartum depression and the help she received from others:
“After the birth of our son … , I sank into a horrible depression. Many of the women in my family suffer from postpartum depression and, as you may know, in those days medical professionals did very little to help women with this condition. I was left to fight my way out of the darkness.
“But those hard times for me were often tempered and lightened by wonderful sisters in the ward who cared for my children and who cared for me physically, emotionally, and spiritually—helping me through that emotional battle.”4

Members of the Charlotte North Carolina (USA) South Stake answered the First Presidency’s call for a day of service during 2011 by partnering with a local charity to put on a welcome basket item drive.
More than 2,000 paper bags with a list of much-needed items were placed throughout the community. A week later, nearly 130 volunteers spent 150 hours collecting the bags and donating the items to families transitioning from homelessness to new housing.
Primary children from the ward made “Welcome Home” signs for the families.

On 23 February 1979 Elder Richards was taken to the hospital, where he remained in critical condition for nearly a month. His obituary was written, and the First Presidency and the Twelve were informed that it was only a matter of hours before he’d be gone. But gradually Elder Richards recovered.
Later, in a meeting of the Twelve, Elder Richards said, “I read in the minutes where you’d received word of my imminent demise, but I fooled you, didn’t I?”

A little over a year ago while serving as temple president, I received a letter from a sister that illustrates the promises the Lord makes in the sealing ceremony. The letter told of a blessing she and her family had received through the temple ordinances. The letter told the following story:

Three years earlier, the family had sent one of their younger sons on a mission. He had an early birthday so he did not attend college before leaving. He was a wonderful young man who served faithfully in one of the South African missions. After serving two years, he returned home just before Christmas in 2008. In early January 2009, he left home for his first day of class at the local university. The roads were icy and suddenly a car behind him lost control, smashed into the rear of his vehicle and propelled him across the median into the path of an oncoming semi-truck. There was a head-on crash and he was killed instantly.

A few days later, the parents were at the mortuary dressing their son in his temple clothing in preparation for the burial. While doing so, the mother and father had a feeling that they should gather their family at the temple. After leaving the mortuary, they called their endowed children and invited them to attend the temple that evening. As the family entered the temple, the father felt that they should do a sealing session as a family. They dressed appropriately, went to the sealing office and were assigned to a particular session.

During the session, the sealer suggested a short break and asked those in the room, "What brought you to the temple today and why did you choose to do sealings?" When it was the family's turn, the father explained what had happened and how he and his wife had felt the need to gather the family at the temple. The father explained the impression to do sealings as he entered the temple. When the father finished there was one more person in the room to respond. The man indicated that he and his wife had come to do initiatories. When he entered the locker room, a strong feeling came to him that he should do sealings. Consequently, he had come to the sealing office where he was assigned to the same session as the family.

He then said, "My wife and I lost a son in a terrible car accident a few years ago. I understand the deep loss and the grief that the family is feeling. I can also assure them that the Lord will heal their grief in time and they will come to know that the son is fine." The sister writing the letter then wrote: "We all felt the Spirit witness that it was not a coincidence that he was with us and some tender healing began to take place. We were reminded that others have experienced similar heartaches and that our grief will be temporary. The man also knew why he had been prompted to be there to offer encouragement and example."

The letter continued. "Yesterday (early January 2010), we attended the temple to begin our day of remembering our son. He has now been gone for one year. We came with the intention of doing an endowment session, but upon entering the temple again felt directed to do sealings." She then stated that during the early part of the session, other couples were invited to the altar to do sealings for daughters to parents. When it was this couple's turn to go to the altar, the sealer coordinator came into the room with a new batch of names and indicated they would now begin sealing sons to parents. As the father and mother knelt at the altar, the sealer reviewed the new names and said, "These names are from South Africa." The mother then wrote: "We felt our son close by with a big smile on his face. I will remember that experience forever. It felt so good." The mother and father knew the son was busy doing missionary work on the other side of the veil. He was still involved with those he had learned to love on his mission. For a moment the veil was lifted and the parents and son rejoiced as they received a confirmation of the eternal bonds between them.

What do you think life in the Missionary Training Center will be like? The youth of the Meridian Idaho Stake found out, thanks to some energetic and creative missionaries.

They were looking for a way to get the young people excited about missionary work, so they planned “The MTC Experience,” which simulated a day at the MTC. The youth were divided into companionships, given name tags and an orientation, then sent to classes. They learned and practiced gospel-sharing techniques and were taught about the Savior and Joseph Smith and about recognizing the Spirit. The local mission president, David Stanley, also addressed them.

The best part of all, according to Sister Laurisa White, a missionary serving in the area, was when everyone stood at the end and sang “Called to Serve.” “Everyone was blown away by it,” she said.

I can say as Nephi said, that I was “born of goodly parents” (1 Ne. 1:1). During World War II my father was captured by the Germans when they invaded our country of Belgium. He escaped from them and disappeared into the Underground (a group opposing the invaders). As a young child, I remember seeing my father only once or twice. He made very short visits, then disappeared again into the Underground, where he was a radio operator.
Even when the war was over, he didn’t come home right away but went to Germany with the Belgian Army. Then he was assigned to another city in Belgium. Fortunately my mother was a very strong and faithful person. When my father was away, she was the head and the strength of the family.

After learning of this counsel, the Lugo family of Valencia, Venezuela, felt inspired to begin their own home storage. Each week they began setting aside a small amount of food, water, and money. Even with their limited resources, they were able to gather a modest reserve after only a few months. Later that year a workers’ strike in Venezuela put many local workers’ jobs in jeopardy. Brother Omar Lugo was among those who eventually lost their jobs.

It took nearly two years for Brother Lugo to find new employment. During that time, Brother Lugo and his family lived on their savings and food storage. Despite the difficult challenges of unemployment, the Lugos experienced peace and comfort because they were prepared. They faced the uncertain future with confidence, knowing they had followed the counsel to gradually build their home storage.9

We expect a lot from our Aaronic Priesthood brethren, and, properly trained, they seldom disappoint us. I remember when Dr. Harold Hulme served as bishopric adviser to a deacons quorum. They were invited to tour a hospital. As he introduced his quorum to the nurses, one of them said, “How unusual. The deacons in our church are older men.” Dr. Hulme replied, “Well, our deacons are outstanding young men. They can handle it when they are twelve years old!”

I have always been thrifty with my money. My parents taught me to work hard for the things I wanted, and I learned quickly to save every penny, nickel, and dime that I earned. They also taught me the importance of tithing. Though it was difficult at first to part with the money, I quickly learned that God always blesses us for the sacrifice.
When I received my mission call I was thrilled to go but quickly realized I was going to need a lot of supplies. I had saved my money for years, but the cost of each month in addition to the shoes, shirts, ties, belts, scriptures, and other various articles I would need as a missionary quickly added up. As a college student, my finances were already strained.
I knew I needed to serve the Lord, and I knew that He would help me to do it, so I decided to “prove” Him as it says in Malachi 3:10. I always paid a full tithe. I knew God would provide a way, and He did.
With my parents’ aid, I covered all of the expenses I would need, except for one suit. I went to a local second-hand store in hopes of finding one. I often have a difficult time finding clothes that fit because I am rather tall with long arms. After a few minutes of searching the racks I found just the suit I was looking for, and it fit perfectly!
It was a direct answer to a simple prayer. Even though it was a small need, I know that when we pay a full tithe, the Lord will provide a way.

Some of you may be familiar with Sister Sherri Dew. She’s the executive vice president of Deseret Management Corporation and the CEO of Deseret Book Company. She’s a former member of the general Relief Society presidency, a best-selling author, and public speaker. In an interview, once she mentioned that not making the BYU women’s basketball team in Provo was one of her biggest regrets.

But it’s not for the reason you might expect.

Growing up, she was a star player on her high school basketball team in the small Midwest town of Ulysses, Kansas. It says she averaged 23 points and 17 rebounds a game. (Since I’m not a basketball player, I’m just going to assume that means she was good.) Well, when it was time for her to go away to college, she chose to attend Brigham Young University and try out for the school’s basketball team. In addition to preparing herself physically, she also did her homework and learned all she could about the team—when the tryouts would be, who the players were including who was leaving the team, who was returning, and who the coach was.

When the day for tryouts arrived, she showed up at the Richards Building gym. She even arrived a little early. As she peeked in at the players warming up inside, Sister Dew said that she lost all of her confidence and just couldn’t bring herself to walk through those gym doors.

But she thought maybe she could work up her courage if she paced the hallway outside of the gym. So she walked back and forth and back and forth and eventually…walked back to her dorm room three hours later without trying out. She never even entered the gym.

You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

Years later, Sister Dew would share this story for the first time when she was invited to speak to the BYU Women’s basketball team. It’s a story she had never even shared with her family.

She wanted the athletes to know that they were doing something that she had wanted to do but had been too afraid to try. Elaine Michaelis, the coach from when Sister Dew was a student, said that she remembers that specific year because it’s the only time she’s had a team play one player short for the entire season. The coach said she tried to fill her roster but just couldn’t.

On hearing that news Sister Dew said “I felt as I had been kicked in the stomach when she told me that. That was supposed to be my spot on the team. You mean out of 25,000 students they couldn’t find one girl to fill that spot? The truth is, nobody can take your place.” [iv]