Gospel Story Finder

It bothered me so much that someone could be so cruel and not even apologize.
For a long time I struggled with forgiveness. Through my own negative experiences, I had often been given counsel that made me feel as though I was being villainized if I didn’t forgive. I often heard phrases like, “If you don’t forgive, then you’re a hypocrite.”
And as someone who has been hurt by others many times, it really hurt me spiritually to hear messages like that—that I would be just as terrible of a person if I was genuinely struggling to forgive. Sometimes I even felt that people excused or dismissed my perpetrators because they may have been facing challenges that caused them to act cruelly.
This mindset made me feel confused and alone. Was it OK for people to be unkind?
When I asked my dad why he didn’t seem so angry about the whole situation, he told me, “He already stole so much from me, so why would I let him steal my happiness too?”
After this conversation, it was as if a light had come on. I saw forgiveness differently.

A few years ago I had been assigned to tour a mission in another land. Before our first meeting with the missionaries, I asked the mission president if there were any particular problems I needed to attend to. He told me of one missionary who had made his mind up to go home early—he was very unhappy. “Could I help him?” I asked. The president wasn’t sure.
As I was shaking hands with the missionaries before the meeting, it wasn’t hard to tell which one wanted to leave. I told the president if he didn’t mind I’d like to speak to the young man after the meeting. As I watched him during the meeting, about all I could think of was the big piece of gum he had in his mouth. After the meeting this tall young missionary came up to the stand.
“Could we visit?” I asked.
His response was an inference that he couldn’t care less.
We went to the side of the chapel. We sat together as I gave him my very best speech on why missionaries should not go home early. He kept looking out the window, paying absolutely no attention to me.
Off and on we were in meetings together for two days. One time he even sat on the front row and read the newspaper as I talked. I was baffled and unnerved by him. By now it appeared to me that he should go home—and soon! I’d been praying for a way to reach him for two days, but to no avail.
The last night after our meeting I was visiting with some folks in the front of the chapel. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the elder. At that very moment I had a feeling about him enter my heart that I had not yet experienced. I excused myself, went over to him, took his hand, looked him in the eye, and said, “Elder, I’m glad I’ve become acquainted with you. I want you to know that I love you.”
Nothing more was said as we separated. As I started out the chapel door for our car, there he stood again. I took his hand again, put my arm around him, looked up in his eyes and said, “What I said to you before, I really mean. I love you; please keep in touch with me.”
Spirit communicates to spirit. It was then that his eyes filled with tears and this boy said simply, “Bishop Peterson, in all my life I can never remember being told ‘I love you.’”
Now I knew why he was confused, disturbed, insecure, and wanted to leave the mission field.

Several years ago, a young man who addressed our ward in sacrament meeting began by saying, in essence, “Brothers and sisters, it’s great to be in your ward today. I am told that the best way to talk to a congregation is to liven them up with a few jokes.” He related several humorous stories, including some inappropriate for the occasion. The congregation laughed loudly—or at least some did. Others wondered what was going on. After 15 or 20 minutes, the young man said, “Well, I’d better close now. I say all these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
His address was amusing and entertaining, something that might have been fun under other circumstances. But we were in a sacrament meeting, a sacred worship service. There was something haunting about his closing words, “In the name of Jesus Christ.” I had, of course, heard those words innumerable times over the years. That day, however, I thought of all the times I had delivered talks or offered prayers in the name of Jesus Christ but had done so without reflecting on whose name I had taken. I thought of occasions when I had spoken on topics of my own choosing—topics that may not have been what the Lord wanted discussed. I thought of those times I had hurriedly closed my prayers, rushing through the name of the Redeemer as though I were sprinting toward some finish line. I thought of the times I had partaken of the sacrament, the emblems of the body and blood of the Savior, with my mind focused on other things.
It occurred to me then, and has many times since, that we need not be involved with profanity to be guilty of taking the name of God in vain. We need merely to treat without serious thought the charge we carry as members of the Lord’s Church to speak and act in his name.

The article tells about an event in the life of Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin (1917–2008) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. When he was a college student, Elder Wirthlin played in a championship game of American football. He was handed the ball, plunged forward, but ended up two inches (5 cm) short of the goal line. At the bottom of a pile of players, rather than pushing the ball ahead, he remembered the words of his mother that he should always do what is right. He left the ball where it was.

Sometimes confirming and restraining revelations are combined. For example, during my service at Brigham Young University I was invited to give a speech before a national association of attorneys. Because it would require many days to prepare, this was the kind of speaking invitation I had routinely declined. But as I began to dictate a letter declining this particular invitation, I felt restrained. I paused and reconsidered my action. I then considered how I might accept the invitation, and as I came to consider it in that light, I felt the confirming assurance of the Spirit and knew that this was what I must do.

The speech that resulted, “A Private University Looks at Government Regulation,” opened the door to a host of important opportunities. I was invited to repeat that same speech before several other nationally prominent groups. It was published in Vital Speeches, in a professional journal, and in several other periodicals and books, from which it was used as a leading statement of the private university’s interest in freedom from government regulation. This speech led to the University being consulted by various church groups on the proper relationship between government and a church-related college. These consultations in turn contributed to the formation of a national organization of church-related colleges and universities that has provided a significant coalition to oppose unlawful or unwise government regulation in the future. I have no doubt, as I look back on the event, that this speaking invitation I almost declined was one of those occasions when a seemingly insignificant act made a great deal of difference. Those are the times when it is vital for us to receive the guidance of the Lord, and those are the times when revelation will come to aid us if we will hear and heed it.

Some time ago, when I was living in the mission field, the missionaries invited me to come see a couple they had been teaching for some time. The missionaries reported to me what a choice couple they were. However, they were very much afraid to make the change and the commitment of baptism. As we entered the home of this wonderful family and found ourselves in their living room, I recognized their fear and anxiety over this visit. I understood that they had been taught the gospel, that they had received all of the discussions, and that they already had a testimony that the gospel is true. I felt prompted to ask them, “What do you think the Lord expects you to do when you enter into the bond of the covenant of baptism for the forgiveness of sins?”

I remember that the woman looked at him and the man looked at her with the sweetness of two wonderful persons in their first years of marriage, and finally he said, “I think we will have to pay our tithing.” I remember that I answered, “Yes, that is true, but there is something of more importance. What do you think the Lord will expect you to do when you enter into this covenant?”

After some inquiring glances from her to him and from him to her, he said quite hesitantly, “We must give up our drinking, our coffee, and our smoking.” Again I told him, “Yes, that is true, but there is something of more importance.”

After we had discussed all the necessary requirements for baptism and I was still insisting that there was something of more importance, they became even more uneasy about what else there still was to do. I felt inspired to say to them, “I can see that you have learned to love the Lord and understand the basic principles of the covenant which you are about to make with him. Now the Lord wants you to take the Spirit, which will be given to you as his gift after baptism, and make it the greatest objective of your life—to let this Spirit be unfolded within you to its fullness of power. Thus, the Lord wants you both to love one another with an even deeper, more sensitive, caring love—a love of a new dimension that is different from the way the world knows—even to such a dimension that you will be overwhelmed by your insight, your patience, your caring, and sensitivity so that you will both be filled with a new dimension of joy and peace.”

The expressions on their faces changed from fear, anxiety, and despair to relaxed smiles of rejoicing. He reached for her hand, looked dearly into her eyes, pressed her hand to his lips, and said with conviction, “I think we are ready.”

As a bishop I occasionally had the opportunity to counsel a brother or a sister who was tired of the hard work of full-time school and a part-time job, or even full-time school and a full-time job, all of this combined with a Church calling and the pressure of keeping commandments, reading scriptures, praying, and attending the temple. As I visited with some of these individuals, they expressed that they just didn’t think they could hold on any longer and were not convinced that all the hard work was worth it. On some level I felt like I could relate. As a bishop there were some long dog days in which I dragged myself to the bishop’s office, feeling strongly that I simply had nothing to give to the ward members that day and even feeling a little sorry for myself. Thank goodness I have a dear wife who knew how to rough me up a bit and kick me out the door on occasion because—and this is very significant to me—every single evening I left that bishop’s office, I felt like I was levitating about six inches off the ground. Isaiah counseled, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”26

Earlier this year, I had a precious experience that opened my eyes to His simple yet tender mercies. I was having a hard day. I stopped the project I was working on and said a little prayer at my desk. As I ended the prayer, a thought entered my mind: “This is a chocolate kind of day!” Taking this as direct, personal revelation, I stepped away from my office and headed to the Wilkinson Center to buy some chocolate.

It was a beautiful day, and the quad was filled with students sitting on the grass and eating lunch, talking, studying, and enjoying the nice weather. But there was one student who caught my attention. Sitting on the grass, she took a bite of her sandwich while giant tears streamed down her cheeks. I didn’t know the burden she carried, but I felt God’s love for one of His children. I thought, “Yep, this is definitely a chocolate kind of day!”

I walked into the BYU Store and purchased two Dove chocolate bars with the intention of sharing one with the student I had seen crying. I started to walk in the direction where she sat on the grass, but doubt quickly entered my mind: “What if I embarrass her?” and “What am I even going to say?” The Spirit nudged me on, and as I extended my hand to offer her the chocolate, the thought—as clear as someone talking to me—entered my mind: “God sees you!” I shared this message with her.

As I walked away, I saw that she still had a tear running down her cheek, but she had a smile too—and so did I!

So, to the student I saw on the grass and to every one of you, I testify that you are a child of God. He sees you and loves you enough even to send someone for chocolate.

Years ago I visited Nauvoo, Illinois, with my family. There the early Saints had come seeking refuge. Many had lost their homes and their farms, and some had lost their loved ones to the growing persecution. In Nauvoo they gathered and built a new and beautiful city. But the persecution was relentless, and by 1846 they were once again forced to leave their homes—this time in the middle of winter. They lined up their wagons on Parley Street, awaiting their turn to cross the frozen waters of the Mississippi River into an unknown future.
As we stood on Parley Street reflecting upon their desperate conditions, my eyes were drawn to a series of wooden signs nailed to fence posts upon which were etched quotes from the diaries of these suffering Saints. As we read each quote, to our amazement what we found in their words was not desperation and discouragement but confidence and commitment and even joy. They were filled with hope, the hope that is reflected by this quote from the diary of Sarah DeArmon Rich, February 1846: “To start out on such a journey in the winter … would seem like walking into the jaws of death but we had faith … [and] we felt to rejoice that the day of our deliverance had come.”
These early Saints were indeed homeless, but they were not hopeless. Their hearts were broken, but their spirits were strong. They had learned a profound and important lesson. They had learned that hope, with its attendant blessings of peace and joy, does not depend upon circumstance. They had discovered that the true source of hope is faith—faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and in His infinite Atonement, the one sure foundation upon which to build our lives.

After her eligibility for college competition was up, she decided to go on a national professional tour. It was a tour that involved Kurt Thomas and other well-known gymnasts, and Diane would get paid $5,000 just to go. She says she knew her gymnastics career was mostly over, but she just wanted to hold on to the thrill of the spotlight and the fun of the sport for as long as she could.
During training for the tour Diane was practicing a vault she’d done thousands of times. She ran toward the vault just like she had done every other time. She jumped on the springboard like all the other times and flew into the air—just like all the other times. This time was different though. This time she rotated just a little too much. This time when she landed, she broke her neck. The accident put her in the hospital for almost half a year and in a wheelchair for the rest of her life.

Have you ever been in an uncomfortable situation and thought "how did I get here," or more accurately "how did I allow this to happen?" I felt this way when, while living in Allentown PA, a group of my friends thought that it would be fun to have a "girls' night out" and go dancing. Even though we planned on going to a club, we wouldn't be drinking and I thought that there would be no harm in dancing with my friends. As soon as I entered the club, I started to feel uncomfortable. This was not a place where a daughter of God should be spending time. It was rather, a place where people were dulling their senses with alcohol and giving away their dignity by the way they dressed and acted. What a mistake; how had I allowed this to happen? I succumbed to peer pressure and listened to worldly friends instead of listening to the Spirit.

Choosing our friends carefully is important in our life-long journey. Now I'm not talking about limiting our friends to those who are well-dressed, or those who move in the popular social circle. The Savior chose his disciples by looking at the inner man, not by considering their appearance or their occupation. If we could look at people with "heavenly glasses" we may be surprised at who is dressed in royal robes. When we surround ourselves with associates who uplift us and encourage us to do better, we put ourselves on a path to spiritual success.

I really look up to Spencer. He has autism, and it’s my job to help him with his chores, like taking out the trash. I love to help tuck him into bed at night. When I learned to read, I started reading to Spencer. It’s something we like to do together, even though we read the same two stories every time! Sometimes I imagine helping Spencer when I’m an adult so my parents can serve a mission. I like the idea of us being roommates!

One day I was walking by a family’s house in my ward and I remembered the parents had recently divorced. I was thinking about what I could do for them and a prompting came to me to go ask if the father was home. It scared me to death and I almost walked away. But trusting that God knows best, I approached the door, knocked, and waited. The mother opened the door slowly; as I looked at her face it was obvious she had been crying. I asked if the father was home, and she said no. I didn’t know what to say next, so I asked if I could rake her leaves or do any other task for her. She said she didn’t need any help at that time, but she would let me know when she did. I left, confident that I had done what God wanted me to do.
Over the next couple of weeks, I befriended her son and played hockey with him and talked with him. A few weeks later my mom told me that the sister had told my mom what happened because I knocked on her door. She had been thinking a lot about how her family would be impacted by her husband’s absence and how her son would no longer have a friend. She had been praying for guidance at the exact moment I knocked on the door.
I know that spiritual promptings can come to you if you are ready for them and that they can change your life and the lives of those you touch.

I will always be grateful for the wonderful example Margaret's father, John Steele, provided in this regard. We had been away at graduate school only a few short months when Margaret dropped me off at school one morning but then on the way home had an accident. Knowing how little money we had in our budget, she was in tears and went to the nearest phone and called her father. I can still remember his response: What are you calling me for? Steve's your husband. Don't call me, call him! Thus while he loved his daughter dearly, he was wise enough to know that Margaret and I needed to trust and rely on each other, whatever the situation. We needed to cleave unto [each other] and to none else.

This story about Toshiba resonates with me because I was loaned a Toshiba laptop in 1988. At the time, I was playing professional basketball in Europe. During the summer prior to traveling to France to play, I was approached by a group of men in a restaurant. They offered me a job as a salesman for WordPerfect Corporation. I was flattered by their offer but quickly told them I was in the middle of a basketball career. I also added that I knew nothing about computers and therefore would not be much of a salesman with my lack of experience. I was showing signs of a fixed mindset. They then told me they could teach me how to use a computer with their software on it. I liked that idea but let them know I would soon be leaving the country to play basketball. It was at that point they asked if I would be interested in taking a Toshiba laptop with me so I could get more comfortable with this new technology and software. I accepted their generous offer. Once settled in France, I turned on my new laptop. I couldn’t have had a more miserable beginning. I couldn’t get the computer to do anything. It was the ancient days of the DOS prompt. Along with the laptop, I was given a DOS manual. After an hour or two of trying to figure out how to use my laptop, with frustration mounting, I closed it up for good. My time playing basketball in Europe soon ended, and a few weeks later I was employed at WordPerfect. I started my job with the assistance of a skilled trainer. This person helped eliminate the frustration I had felt in France. He started to open a new world to me—the world of computers and software. Now it’s hard to imagine life without computing power. It helps as we strive to move from one mindset to another to have someone at our side to guide us for a time.

When President Kimball first came here as a member of the Twelve, he was asked to sit for a portrait. (Those of us who know him well know how those hours of sitting still must have bothered him.) To keep him from daydreaming, the painter one day asked an abrupt question:
“Brother Kimball, have you ever been to heaven?”
His answer seemed to be a shock, as he said without hesitation, “Why, yes … certainly. I had a glimpse of heaven just before coming to your studio.”
He then told of an experience in the temple where he had performed a marriage:
“As the subdued congratulations were extended, a happy father … offered his hand and said, ‘Brother Kimball, my wife and I are common people and have never been successful, but we are immensely proud of our family. … This is the last of our eight children to come into this holy house for temple marriage. They, with their companions, are here to participate in the marriage of this, the youngest.’ …
“I looked at his calloused hands, his rough exterior, and thought to myself, ‘Here is a real son of God fulfilling his destiny’” (Ensign, Dec. 1971, p. 36; also in Conference Report, Oct. 1971, pp. 152–53).

I had often asked myself whether my life had a purpose, but now this question was very serious to me. Although I was only 22, my legs had suddenly become extremely weak. “Perhaps they have just grown tired from dancing in the local discos,” I thought. “Maybe they have gone on strike.”
I went to a doctor, who thought I had a muscle disease and immediately sent me to a clinic. Thus began a period of going from clinic to clinic throughout my native Germany. I underwent many tests, but none of them showed any problem. Still I was in severe pain and had no strength. It was almost unbearable. Because the tests were all negative, everyone thought I must be pretending. I felt alone and could find no purpose in life, although I longed for one.
About this time I was sent to a clinic in Koblenz, Germany. When I arrived I met a young woman about my age who seemed different from the other patients. She seemed to have a positive attitude about her life, even though she was seriously ill. I saw her in the hall one Sunday. She was wearing a Sunday dress, and I asked her why she was so dressed up. She answered, “I was at church.”
I had not had any interest in religion for a long time. Although I had been raised in a Protestant faith, I felt religion was a lot of empty talk. I knew there was a God, but I didn’t think much of organized religion here on earth.
“Church?” I said, swallowing hard. Then I asked her which church she belonged to.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” she answered. I blanched. “What was that? A strange sect?” I wondered. I asked her many questions about her church. Even though she had been through a great deal, she did not doubt. She prayed to and trusted in her Heavenly Father. That fascinated and frightened me at the same time.
My new friend gave me a Book of Mormon, and I began reading it. The missionaries in Koblenz soon taught me the first discussion. Then because of an illness I contracted, I was transferred to a different clinic. My friend visited me often. I had the Book of Mormon with me, and I continued to read. I had learned a great deal about life, and for the first time I had found a true friend.
On a leave from the clinic, I visited my friend and her family in Solingen. They were the dearest people I had ever met, and on Sunday I attended church with them. When I returned to the clinic, I could not stop thinking about the Church. I had known there was something true about the Book of Mormon, but now everything became much clearer. One thought was on my mind: “Should I join the Church?”
When I was finally released from the clinic, I returned to my home in Fulda. Then I received another invitation to visit my new friends in Solingen and was welcomed even more heartily than before. I learned more about the gospel and decided to be baptized. When I returned home I found the missionaries in my area, and they taught me the remaining discussions in Fulda. I had finally found my purpose in life, and I was baptized.
I thank my Heavenly Father with all my heart for helping me find His gospel and Church. My legs are back to normal now. The doctors never found out what caused the pain, but if I had not become sick, I would still be searching for purpose in my life. What a loving Father! He doesn’t give up on anyone.
I used to wonder what I was supposed to learn from my illness. Now I know.

One of the most pleasant and productive experiences in my life happened in 1943 as the Japanese war was taking place. I heard Dr. Adam S. Bennion give a lecture on the value of great literature. You can sell the idea of the value of great ideas to anyone. That is, we all believe that we should be acquainted with great human thought. But almost everyone gets away from its benefit by saying that he doesn’t have time to read. To get away from this objection of not having time, Dr. Bennion said, “Suppose that you were going to be a prisoner in a Japanese concentration camp for the next four years and you could take with you the works of any ten authors. Which would you take, and what would you expect to get out of them?” That is, what are the values of great ideas, of great literature? His idea was to take the ten authors you would most like to resemble and then exhaust each one in turn. That is, you would read every thought and consider every idea that a particular author had ever recorded; you would rethink his every idea. The psychologists say that when you run an idea through your brain, it makes a little groove or engram. If you run through your mind the kind of ideas that went through the mind of Shakespeare or Emerson or the apostle Paul or Moses or Jesus of Nazareth, then your brain will tend to respond as their brains did.
From someplace I got the courage to make the start. I guess Shakespeare comes fairly close to the top of most people’s lists of great authors. So I got out Shakespeare’s 37 plays, his sonnets, and his poems and went to work. Reading them was pretty difficult at first. I read very slowly and perhaps not very comprehendingly. Shakespeare wrote a long time ago, and there were many things that I did not understand. I had to reread some things several times, look up their meanings, and ask people about them. But finally the clouds began to part, a little bit of the sunlight began to come through, and I had a tremendous experience with Shakespeare. Shakespeare looked with clearer insight into human life than do most men. He said his purpose in writing was to hold the mirror up to life, to show virtue her own image and scorn her own likeness. He said, “I your looking-glass will be and will modestly discover to yourself qualities which you yourself know not of.” I had a great uplift as I read his speeches and his arguments for success. And as he pictured life in miniature with his great characters acting and reacting upon each other, I was intellectually born again—a great many times. Each time we discover some inspiring thought, we can be changed, and changed for the better.
I always read with my pen, marking every idea, every phrase, every quote, and every other thing that I think will help me. And then I put these thoughts into my notebooks. One of my most valuable possessions in the world is my collection of 25 notebooks. They are just regular 8 1/2-by-11-inch page size, three-ring binders, with about 300 pages in each one; so I have 7,500 pages of notes. I think of my reading as a combine harvester sweeping across a field of wheat. It cuts everything before it, but throws out the weeds and the chaff and the straw and puts the wheat in the sack. If I were now going to read something that would be particularly exciting to me, it wouldn’t be Shakespeare, it wouldn’t be Emerson, it wouldn’t even be the scriptures. It would be my notes, because I have selected for my notes those things that particularly inspire me.
I have always felt a little bit cheated in my life that no one has ever tried to talk me out of my faith. I have heard many people say that they got into the wrong crowd or listened to the wrong professor or were influenced by the wrong philosophy. But everywhere I have gone, people have encouraged me to live my religion. Once I thought that maybe I believed as I did just because I didn’t know any better, so I got the complete works of Robert G. Ingersoll. In my opinion Robert G. Ingersoll was the greatest atheist, if you could use that term, that ever lived in the world. I don’t know how convincing other people’s atheism is, but Robert G. Ingersoll was a great salesman. He was a great orator. He was a great architect of speech. He knew how to put ideas together. If anybody could persuade me about something, I think maybe it would have been Robert G. Ingersoll. His complete works are made up of 19,900 pages. There are 214 pages in my New Testament, so I read 90 new testaments of atheism. I didn’t read his works to try to out-argue him or to find fault with them. I read them actually to try to help him persuade me that there was something better than those things that I believed. I read him very carefully. I don’t skip read. I don’t jump over things or just read things that I think will be interesting. If something is important enough for him to write down, it is important enough for me to study and to try to find out the right answer to the subject discussed. And in all of my experiences in reading his work, he hasn’t shaken my faith in the smallest degree. Since that time I have read 987 of the great books, and I have had some tremendous experiences in a lot of different directions with what I have read. These great new philosophies have enabled me to have an “intellectual rebirth.”

Prayer was a very important part of my life. As a child, I was taught to pray. I remember one time when I was riding out to the ranch with my father. As he drove, he started humming or singing, “‘Ere you left your room this morning, Did you think to pray?’”* Then he glanced at me and asked, “Son, did you pray this morning?”
“No.”
“Don’t you pray in the mornings?”
“I pray at night,” I replied.
At that moment, he took the time to explain to me the importance of praying in the morning and at night. From that time on, it became part of my life to pray both morning and night. In 2 Nephi 26:15 [2 Ne. 26:15], we are told that “the prayers of the faithful shall be heard.” We often experienced that scripture. I learned in my youth that as we were faithful and did our part, the Lord blessed us.

Several years ago while my wife and I were serving in Venezuela, our youngest son left the comfort of his high school to join with us. He did not complain, but it was obvious that he struggled as he went to this country where everything was new to him; but in an amazing turn of events, the experience went from one of trial to a huge blessing in his life. He accomplished this by changing his own attitude and developing a determination to succeed.