Gospel Story Finder

I remember a general conference where a beloved member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles spoke the exact words of testimony I had told a friend I hoped to hear.

One night in 1970 fifteen-year-old Dan Ecklund rang the doorbell of the mission home in Zurich, Switzerland. When President M. Elmer Christensen opened the door, Dan said he wanted to talk with someone who could tell him about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Dan and his family had been living in the Congo and were on their way back to the United States. For eighteen years his father and mother had been serving as Protestant missionaries in the Congo, where all seven of their children had been born. They had not been happy when Dan became interested in another church while on a vacation in South Africa and asked their permission to be baptized. However, Dan was so convinced that the new Church was true that finally his parents consented and Dan was baptized.
Since the mission president in Zurich had supervision over any members in the Congo, Dan had written to ask President Christensen to send him some books to study. He had persuaded his father to stop in Zurich on their way to the United States so he could ask President Christensen to explain some things he did not understand.
While the rest of the Ecklund family visited with Sister Christensen, Dan went into President Christensen’s office, where they sat down and quietly discussed some of his questions.
Before Dan stood up to leave, he opened his wallet and took out a five-dollar bill in American money. He said that since he had become a member of the Church, he had earned forty-five dollars. This meant he owed four dollars and fifty cents tithing. The boy wanted to make a fifty-cent donation with the balance of the bill.
President Christensen explained about fast offerings, and Dan quickly agreed that this was a good place for his fifty cents to go. So the mission president wrote out a receipt and handed it to the boy, who read it thoughtfully and then tucked it into his wallet.
With shining eyes, he left the mission office and joined the rest of his family. Dan felt that at last he was truly a member of the Church he had learned to love.

Nicole, who recently turned eight and was baptized and confirmed, also writes about things that mean a lot to her. “When I was baptized and confirmed, I wrote about feeling the Holy Ghost,” she says. She knows it will be important to remember those things later to strengthen her testimony when hard times come.

I think of a little story President Benson told us a short time ago when he told about being at a banquet back in the East. He sat next to a minister, and the minister said: “Mr. Benson, I’d like to visit with you after the banquet.” So they got in another part of the building, and he said: “Now there are two things in your church we would like to copy.”

Brother Benson said: “And what are they?”

“Well, first, it’s your missionary system,” he said. “You send your missionaries all over the world. You don’t pay them; you make them pay their way to their field of labor, maintain themselves while they are there, and all the Church does for them is to pay their return fare when they come back.” He said: “Now in our church, we have a missionary fund. But,” he said, “we offer to pay our men to the field of labor, to maintain them while they are there, and then to return them after they are released—and we can’t get anybody to go!”

Recently, I was overcome with a sense of awe. I thought, “Who am I to address God?” But He is my Father and I am His daughter. I know He longs to hear from me as much as I yearn to commune with Him.

In 1856 President Brigham Young sent Truman on a mission to Europe, instructing him to “take drafts of valuable works of architecture” so he could “be better qualified to continue” to work on the Salt Lake Temple and other buildings.2

The article “Perilous Rescue” in the July 1982 issue is about our ward Scout group. My son Daren was the last of the boys to be rescued, and we feel so blessed that his life was spared. It was very hard on him to lose two of his best friends in that tragedy. He is presently serving a mission in the Ohio Cleveland Mission. This article brings many thoughts and tears, and I know how blessed we are to have Daren.
Mrs. Max DaytonSt. Anthony, Idaho

Uncle Bob is my dad’s youngest brother. Dad was about seventeen when Uncle Bob was born. Dad always had a special love for him. No matter where else Dad lived, he’d get so lonesome to see Uncle Bob that he couldn’t stand it. He’d go home to his parents’ place just to see him. One winter Dad even walked partway across the Teton mountains to get there. A blizzard came up, and Dad nearly lost his way. He wanted nothing so much as to give in to the warmth that occurs as a person begins to freeze to death. Only the thought of seeing Uncle Bob made him continue.

I have never really enjoyed talking to others about the gospel very much, mostly because I felt I was incapable of doing so.
Then I had the opportunity to share the gospel with some of my cousin’s friends. They asked me questions. They knew that I was a member of the Church, and they had lots of questions. For example, “How are you baptized for the dead? What’s that all about?” and “You have a living prophet?”
I didn’t know quite what to say. If I’m honest about it, I was a little bit afraid inside. But for the first time, I wanted to talk about it. So I said to myself, “I’m going to have to have the courage to tell them something, so I might as well do my best.”
The entire time I was talking to them, I could feel the Spirit telling me how to explain things to them. I explained principles of the gospel, using the right words so that they could understand, and they were delighted because they were able to find answers for the questions they had.
From this experience, I learned that the Spirit can help us to find the right words to explain the gospel to people who have the desire to learn about Jesus Christ. If we have the courage to speak, the Spirit will be there to help us.
Julie J., France

As you know, the Brethren used to announce in general conference the names of those who had been called on missions. Not only was this the way friends and neighbors learned of the call, more often than not it was the way the missionary learned of it as well. One such prospect was Eli H. Peirce. A railroad man by trade, he had not been very faithful in Church meetings, “even had my inclinations led in that direction, which I frankly confess they did not,” he admitted. His mind had been given totally to what he demurely calls “temporalities.” He said he had never read more than a few pages of scripture in his life, that he had spoken to only one public gathering (an effort which he says “was no credit to himself” or those who heard him), and he used the vernacular of the railroad and bar room with a finesse born of long practice. He bought cigars wholesale—a thousand at a time—and he regularly lost his paycheck playing pool. Then this classic understatement:
“Nature never endowed me with a superabundance of religious sentiment or veneration; my region of spirituality [was] not high, but below the average.”

Well, the Lord knew what Eli Peirce was, and he knew something else. He knew what I’m pleading for today. He knew what Eli Peirce could become. When the call came that October 5, 1875, Eli wasn’t even in the Tabernacle. He was out working on one of the railroad lines. A fellow employee, once he recovered from the shock of it all, ran out to telegraph the startling news. Brother Peirce writes, “At the very moment this intelligence was being flashed over the wires, I was sitting lazily thrown back in an office rocking chair, my feet on the desk, reading a novel and simultaneously sucking an old Dutch pipe, … just to vary the monotony of cigar smoking.” (To my friends in the English department, I would just hasten to add that the novel reading was probably a more serious transgression than the pipe smoking.)
He goes on: “As soon as I had been informed of what had taken place, I threw the novel in the waste basket, the pipe in a corner and started up town to buy [scripture]. Have never read a novel nor smoked a pipe from that hour. Sent in my resignation … to take effect at once, in order that I might have time for study and preparation.”
Then these stirring words: “Remarkable as it may seem, and has since appeared to me, a thought of disregarding the call, or of refusing to comply with the requirement, never once entered my mind. The only question I asked myself a thousand times … was: ‘How can I accomplish this mission? How can I, who am so shamefully ignorant and untaught in doctrine, do honor to God and justice to the souls of men, and merit the trust reposed in me by the Priesthood?’”

With such genuine humility fostering resolution rather than defeating it, Eli Peirce fulfilled a remarkable mission. His journal could appropriately close on a completely renovated life with this one line: “Throughout our entire mission we were greatly blessed.” But I add one experience to make the point.
During the course of his missionary service, Brother Peirce was called in to administer to the infant child of a branch president whom he knew and loved. Unfortunately the wife of the branch president had become embittered and now seriously objected to any religious activity within the home, including a blessing for this dying child. With the mother refusing to leave the bedside and the child too ill to move, this humble branch president with his missionary friend retired to a small upper room in the house to pray for the baby’s life. The mother, suspecting just such an act, sent one of the older children to observe and report back.
There in that secluded chamber, the two men knelt and prayed fervently until, in Brother Peirce’s own words, “we felt that the child would live and knew that our prayers had been heard.” Arising from their knees, they turned slowly only to see the young girl standing in the partially open doorway gazing intently into the room. She seemed, however, quite oblivious to the movements of the two men. She stood entranced for some seconds, her eyes immovable.
Then she said, “Papa, who was that … man in there?”
Her father said, “Brother Peirce.”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly, “I mean that other man.”
“There was no other, darling, except Brother Peirce and myself; we were praying for baby.”
“Oh, yes, there was;” the child insisted, “I saw him standing [above] you and Brother Pierce and he was all dressed in white.”

Now if God in his heavens will do that for a repentant, old, cigar-smoking, inactive, stern, swearing pool player, don’t you think he’ll do it for you? He will if your resolve is as deep and permanent as Eli Peirce’s. In this Church we ask for faith, not infallibility. (Eliza R. Snow, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow, 1884, pp. 407–13.)

The Standifird family of Highland, Utah, has really taken the sentiment “The family that plays together, stays together,” to heart. Marching band is their life! The four oldest Standifird siblings, Jason, Heather, Ryan, and Kristin, have spent a combined 12 years in their high school marching band.
These brothers and sisters say that being in the band has helped them accomplish other goals by teaching them discipline and hard work, tools that have been especially useful to Jason on his mission to Dublin, Ireland, Heather on her mission to Hong Kong, and Ryan on his mission to the Philippines. Kristin, who just graduated from high school, is glad that, for a brief time, they’ll all be reunited before school starts. Some of them will return to college early to get ready for—what else?—band!

Since the mid-winter resignation of Ernest L. Wilkinson from the presidency of Brigham Young University, youth throughout the Church have speculated about who would replace such a great builder and leader. The speculation has been put to rest with the announcement by the First Presidency that Dr. Dallin H. Oaks, thirty-eight, has been named the new BYU president.
Brother Oaks is currently professor of law at the University of Chicago Law School. He will assume his new duties on August 1, 1971. A 1954 graduate of BYU, Brother Oaks went on to distinguish himself as a lawyer, professor and scholar of law, and educational administrator.
“As I contemplate the magnitude of the task ahead of me and all that I have to learn, I feel like a freshman again,” Brother Oaks said in a devotional assembly in which he was introduced to the BYU faculty and student body.
Latter-day Saint students who know Brother Oaks at the University of Chicago had this to say about him:
“Dallin Oaks exemplifies my ideal of the whole man,” said John Phillips.
“Everyone benefits from knowing him on a personal basis,” said Jim Fox.
Although most students at BYU had never heard the name Dallin Oaks prior to the First Presidency’s announcement, they seemed excited about the appointment.
“The obscurity of Brother Oaks says a great deal, in my opinion. That he was chosen over better-known Church personalities indicates to me that the choice was inspired and that he is a superior person,” said Dennis Godfrey, of Blackfoot, Idaho.
“I think his daughters are going to have a hard time,” said Daryl Gibson of Wethersfield, England, with a grin. “Who would want to call for his date at the president’s house? That’s the best kind of insurance a father could have for getting his daughter home before 9:00 P.M.”
“I’m very impressed! I think he’s young, intellectual, and efficient,” said Dean Byrd, Marion, South Carolina.
“For a man of his young age, with all of his accomplishments, he seems to be unimpressed with himself, but he inspired confidence at the same time,” said Paul Dixon, Provo, Utah.

This kind of dedication helps prepare the youth for later goals. “I want to go on a mission,” says Johnny Ubiera, seventeen, of the Mendoza Branch. He spends a lot of time preparing for his mission by going to seminary, reading the scriptures, and working with the full-time missionaries. Nearly half of the missionary force in his country is native Dominican, and that percentage is still growing.

It gives me a good feeling to work on family history. I’m learning the names of lots of my ancestors and learning to upload their photos too. Someday when I meet them in heaven, I’ll already know them.
Aidan A., age 10, Utah, USA

Shane Aldous steps to the front of his karate class.
“Taegeuk Seven Jang,” he shouts and begins leading students through a complex series of smooth flowing movements called a kata. Shane’s hands move into positions, palms up, fingers together. His eyes wide, alert, he steps into a low stance. Then with practiced precision, a hand moves in a graceful circle, stops, pulls in, and punches upward. A fast high kick follows.
A karate class might seem an unlikely place for missionary work, but for Shane Aldous, 15, and his family, almost any place can present an opportunity.
“Two years ago I was the biggest boy in my class,” Shane explains. “All of the boys who thought they were tough wanted to fight me. But I didn’t want to fight. My mother saw an advertisement in the paper for karate classes and asked if I wanted to take lessons.”
Chol H. Kim, the instructor of the class, teaches TaeKwon Do, a Korean style of karate, which emphasizes both physical and mental discipline. “In TaeKwon Do, character development is as important as physical development. It’s a class rule,” Shane says, “to show respect to your teachers and your parents.”
Shane’s parents and his brother Brad, 14, were so impressed with what Master Kim was teaching that they also signed up for his classes. “We do things as a family whenever we can,” Shane says.
Because they worked together and could help each other learn, the Aldous family progressed rapidly.
Brad and Shane began entering karate tournaments, and at the United States National Junior Olympics they took top honors in their divisions. Shane brought home a silver medal, and Brad won two gold medals.

Both my parents are converts, so in a way, I am a son of pioneer parents. I am the first Nilssen to go on a mission, and my brothers and two sisters are strong members. That is the beginning of a rich posterity.
Ralph Nilssen, 19Maple Valley, Washington

As a mission president, Ronald A. Rasband encourages missionaries to act on first promptings.

One time in Minnesota, where I served as mission president, we had a missionary fireside where at the end I used the words “I know” as I bore my testimony. An investigator came up to speak with me after the meeting was over. He said, “Unless I can touch, smell, hear, see, or taste, I do not believe.” He, of course, had listed the five physical senses, which are an integral part of our mortal and temporal beings. I asked him if he believed in radio signals or gravity or even Hong Kong.

Growing up in the Church and going to Primary, I have learned about Jesus Christ from when I was a little girl. And my testimony has grown stronger since then. Now that I’m on a mission, I love having the opportunity to share the gospel and testify of Jesus Christ every day.
As I think of the Savior and all the things He has done for me, I want to be closer to Him. I’m personalizing the things I learned as a child. I love being able to help other people feel the love of our Savior Jesus Christ. This testimony is not just something I say—it comes from my heart.
Susana V., 21, Tonga

One hot summer day, Jonathan rode his brand-new bike from house to house delivering newspapers. The heavy newspaper bag hanging from his handlebars banged into his legs as he pedaled. Sweat ran down his forehead, and his hands were so sweaty they soaked the handles on his bike, but he didn’t care. He had earned enough money from his newspaper route to buy his own bike, and just riding it made him happy.
It was hard to ride fast with the newspaper bag so full, but Jonathan was trying to hurry so that he could get to his ball game. When he was almost finished with his route, he ran through some lawn sprinklers to get the newspaper to a dry spot on the porch. He liked the cold water spraying all over him so much that he ran back and forth to the porch two more times.
Then Jonathan saw his friend Kevin a couple of blocks away. Kevin’s paper route was right next to Jonathan’s, but Kevin wasn’t riding his bike or throwing papers onto porches. He was bent over his bike like there was something wrong. Jonathan delivered his last two newspapers and rode over to see what was going on.
“Tire’s flat,” Kevin said. He kicked the ground and shook his head sadly. Then he lifted his newspaper bag off his handlebars and dropped it to the ground with a thud. It was still half-full of papers. “Now what’ll I do? Our baseball game is in half an hour.”
Jonathan saw sweat running down Kevin’s face. His eyes were moist too. Maybe the moisture wasn’t all sweat, Jonathan thought, and he felt really sad for his friend.
“You can take my bike.” Jonathan said it so quickly he surprised himself. What if Kevin ran over a nail with Jonathan’s brand-new bike? What if he crashed into something and bent the handlebars? What if he laid the bike down behind a car and the car ran over it? Jonathan suddenly thought of a lot of things that could happen to his bike.
“Thanks a lot!” Kevin said. His face lit up with a big smile. “Are you sure?”
Jonathan wondered if he was really sure. His parents had talked to him a lot about taking good care of his bike. But when he thought of his parents, he remembered scripture stories they had taught him about helping others. And his dad was always helping people. A lot of the time Jonathan got to help too. He helped his dad get firewood for a family whose truck had broken down. He helped his dad clean Sister Story’s yard when she couldn’t get around very well. That was fun because she had a little dog named Peetie, who liked Jonathan a lot. He remembered his dad driving him to Brother and Sister Call’s house to leave treats on the porch, knock, and run away. They did that several times until the Calls guessed who was doing it. After that, they knocked, took the treats into the house, and stayed for a good visit.
The more Jonathan thought about his dad, the more he was sure he wanted Kevin to borrow his bike so he could finish the route and get to the baseball game. “Sure I’m sure,” Jonathan said. “I’ll push your bike to my house and you can pick it up after the game. Maybe my dad and I can help you fix it.”
“Wow! Thanks again,” Kevin said.
They took Jonathan’s empty newspaper bag off the bike. Kevin put his half-full bag over his shoulder and took off pedaling fast. “See you at the game!” he yelled.
As he pushed Kevin’s bike down the street, Jonathan didn’t stop to splash more cold water on himself. He already felt great!