Gospel Story Finder

By noon the group was hiking toward another lake. The trail switched back and forth gently, dropping down the slopes. Sometimes a lower part of the trail would be only a few feet away.
“We thought it was crazy not to take a shortcut,” Mike Worthington said. Some tried it. Greg stopped everybody.
“Stay on the trail,” he advised. “You think you’re saving time, but you’re not. And if the trail erodes the wrong way, you ruin it for people who come after you.”
“The next lake has golden trout in it,” Greg announced. “If we hurry, we might be able to catch a few before dark.” Packs were repacked and lifted to shoulders again.
Even though they’d been warned once about shortcutting, some of the young men thought the route back to the main trail was too roundabout and tedious.
“It looked like we could just cut through the trees,” Clay Drake said. “But we got lost. It took two hours for us to get back together with the rest of the group, and they all had to wait while the guides went back to look for us. The next time a guide tells me what to do, I’ll listen to him.”
There are times, the Explorers and Scouts found out, when you have to trust someone else, times when your safety and well-being depend on it. The young men also learned a little bit about perseverance. They hiked more than five miles each of the four days they spent in the Wind Rivers. Every day it became easier and more enjoyable.

When my family moved a few months after I turned 18, I found myself in a new ward and facing a challenge. Within two weeks of my moving in, almost all of the priests were made elders. I was also called to be the first assistant in the priests quorum.

In giving me this calling, the bishop explained that there were a lot of priests on the roll, but almost no one showed up. We had a lot of work to do to encourage people to attend.

“Just invite people to come,” he said.

Only one other priest came to church, a guy named Ryan, who showed up a couple times each month. I decided to go knock on doors of our less-active quorum members and invite them to our activities. I was nervous, afraid that they’d get upset at me for inviting them to church. I figured they weren’t coming because they didn’t like church. But I also figured it was good practice for my upcoming mission to try to invite, so I gritted my teeth and started calling the other priests or stopping by their houses. I invited them to firesides, to activities, to church.

What surprised me was that some actually responded and came. We eventually had a group of four priests who started coming on a regular basis. It wasn’t that they didn’t like church—they had just been waiting for an invitation to come. They were just as nervous about a new situation—attending church—as I had been.

Some activities were more successful than others. Everyone showed up for volleyball, but I struggled to get people to attend other activities.

Youth conference that year was especially rewarding as I watched some of these young men stand up and bear their testimonies. I felt like I had made a difference in their lives.

One of the differences I saw was that Ryan was attending church every week and we had become good friends.

I remember the story of one of our LDS chaplains, a man of great faith, devotion, and courage. For a year or more he had been in the central highlands of South Vietnam during the war there. …
He was not always a member of this Church. As a boy in the southern U.S. he grew up in a religious home where the Bible was read and where the family attended the little church of the community. He desired the gift of the Holy Ghost of which he had read in the scriptures but was told that it was not available. The desire never left him. He grew to manhood. He served in the U.S. Army. He searched but never found the thing he most wanted. Between military enlistments, he became a prison guard. While sitting in the gun tower of a California prison, he meditated on his own deficiencies and prayed to the Lord that he might receive the Holy Ghost and satisfy the hunger which he felt in his soul. That hunger had not been fully satisfied with sermons to which he had listened.
One day two young men knocked at his door. His wife invited them to return when her husband would be at home. These two young men taught that family by the Holy Spirit and they were baptized. I have heard this man testify to the effect that as he was taught by the power of the Holy Spirit, he was edified and rejoiced with those who taught him. Out of that marvelous beginning, with the gift of the Holy Ghost, came a shedding forth of light and truth that gave peace to the dying, comfort to the bereaved, blessings to the wounded, courage to the timid, and faith to those who had scoffed.1

The childlike faith of a follower of the divine Christ is a choice spiritual gift. It can be enjoyed by young and old. In the early days of the Church, a young boy by the name of Will Cluff, 10 years of age, living in Nauvoo, had a remarkable, pure faith. He had an experience to which many of us can relate.
His family was poor and had only one cow, which they depended on for food. In the spring of 1842 the cow strayed off. One evening in August his father came home very weary and discouraged. He and Will’s brothers had spent much of the summer looking for the cow. Will said, “Father, if you will let me take Charley (an old horse) I will go and find the cow.” His father reluctantly said he could.
Early next morning Will rode to the Big Mound, three miles east and in the prairie country. Here he had often herded cows with other boys from Nauvoo. He got off the horse and, holding it by the bridle, knelt down and fervently prayed the Lord to direct him which way to go to find the cow. He climbed back on the horse and rode south, a course he was impressed to take even though there were numerous bunches of cattle in every direction.
After traveling a few miles in the open prairie and passing hundreds of cattle, Will came to a fence. He dismounted and let down the stake, led his horse in, put up the fence, then rode three miles across the field. He again found himself in the open prairie with numerous bunches of stock in every direction. When he had gone about a quarter of a mile from the field, he rode right on to the cow, feeding alone some distance from any other animals.
Will started to drive the cow in the direction of the city. He arrived late in the evening, full of joy and thankful to his Father in Heaven.

For thirteen years I was a devoted, “born again” Christian and an equally devoted anti-Mormon. As part of an organized evangelical program, I talked to people in stores, in parks, and in their homes, seeking to share the “good news of the gospel.”
Many of those people I encountered in my evangelical work were Latter-day Saints. I took every opportunity to tell them that their church was not of God, but was a cult inspired by Satan. I was well-read in anti-Mormon literature, and my heart ached for those “misguided Mormons.” They went about trying to “work” their way to heaven, believing in the words of a self-appointed prophet named Joseph Smith.
I told them again and again that those works didn’t count. Only those people who ask Jesus into their hearts will go to heaven, I said. All others, good and evil, share a fate of agony and eternal separation from God.
“What about those who have never heard of Jesus?” I was always asked. Having no answer, I quietly ignored the question.
After a divorce that was hard for me, I stopped going to church, and although my faith in God and love for him remained, I decided to lay aside the spiritual part of my life for a time. I married an inactive Latter-day Saint who nonetheless possessed an unshakable testimony. We rarely discussed religion, but whenever the subject came up, I made fruitless attempts to show him the error of his beliefs. He quietly listened, but his testimony remained intact. Then, through a family crisis, my heart began to change.
My father-in-law became very ill with cancer, and as death approached, he felt the need to express the importance of the Church to his children. Something about his simple testimony touched my heart, and I decided to find out for myself the truth regarding this church. I began by cross-referencing the scriptures, and found to my surprise that there were no inconsistencies between the Bible and the Book of Mormon. To me, the Bible was the precious word of God. I believed it without question. Could Mormon doctrine possibly be proven within the Bible? I set out to find the answer.
In going through my husband’s Church books, I came across A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards. As I read it, I felt as if it had been written for me. I discovered New Testament scriptures regarding baptism for the dead and Christ’s mission during the time prior to his resurrection. I discovered Jesus’ words to Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb: “Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father.” (John 20:17.) Had he not returned to his Father immediately after his death? But I had used his words to the thief on the cross, “To day shalt thou be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43) to prove deathbed repentance! I had read these same scriptures countless times before but had never really understood them. Now I realized I had been deceived about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I studied and prayed, I began to find answers to the questions I had quietly pushed aside. Finally, I knew that this church was the Savior’s church, and its doctrine was his doctrine. In 1984 I was baptized.
I am grateful the Lord waited so patiently for the moment when my heart would open so that his Spirit would lead me to the truth.

Most 11-year-olds are already busy with school, household chores, and activities with friends. But Alexandra C., from the state of Durango, Mexico, wasn’t a typical 11-year-old. In addition to all the normal things young people do at that age, Alexandra was making money from her own business and serving in her community.

So how does a girl that young start her own company?

It began when Alexandra heard of some classes the Church offers to help people learn to be self-reliant. The group was mainly for people 18 and older, but Alexandra was determined to join. She loved the idea of learning how to get a job or start her own business.

Could it be that she, a girl still in elementary school, might not only shape her own future but also help people who had even less than she did? After all, many of the Church members she knew from her town had little education and few resources.

Alexandra joined a group called “Starting and Growing My Business,” one of three subjects offered. Rather than being taught by a teacher, the group was led by a facilitator—a fellow group member who guides the other members through the course and encourages discussion. Alexandra met with her group every week for three months.

Photographs courtesy of Alexandra C.

As Alexandra learned how to be both temporally and spiritually self-reliant, she began to look around at the needs in her area. She noticed that there weren’t enough recreational activities for all the kids in her town, so she saved up money and bought a small trampoline. Alexandra put the trampoline in a public area and started renting it out, using ideas she’d learned about marketing and finance in her course.

The trampoline became very popular in her community.

Alexandra started using her skills in other ways too. Because she’d shown great respect for all her group members and had followed through on all her commitments, Alexandra was trusted to facilitate a new group—a position normally held by people 18 or older.

When Alexandra became a facilitator, she was by far the youngest of the six participants in her group. She carefully studied the materials before each group meeting so she’d know how to best help her fellow group members. She took her new role seriously. “She would get anxious when her group didn’t arrive on time or when the video equipment didn’t work,” said her father, David.

Alexandra learned to balance homework, the trampoline business, and her facilitator role exceptionally well. And she thinks it was well worth it. “God blessed me when He made me a facilitator,” she said. For her, one blessing was to learn about loving those you serve.

That love led her to reach out to her group with a real desire for them to succeed. For instance, each time they met, group members made weekly commitments to apply what they studied to their businesses and then teach their families the gospel principles they’d learned. When participants in Alexandra’s group didn’t reach their goals or missed a class, she’d visit them in their homes to see if they were all right and to encourage them to fulfill their commitments. “I loved visiting my group members,” she said.

Alexandra’s dad added, “I marvel to see how my little daughter could feel so strongly about the well-being of those in need. She has great compassion for those she serves.”

Now a Beehive in Young Women, Alexandra has plans to expand her trampoline business to a nearby community. By learning to be more self-reliant and helping others do the same, she said she’s already started to see changes in herself and her new friends in her group. “My testimony of Christ has grown,” Alexandra said. “I feel more sure of myself, and I want to serve.”

Alexandra said that because of this training course, she’s more aware of who she really is and how she can serve. “I learned I could improve myself. And I loved to see all of the group members improving. I know they’ll be better off now; their businesses will improve. I know that the self-reliance training was revelation from God.”

For Alexandra, her testimony, self-worth, and service to others have definitely been things worth working for.

Growing up, I always wanted to be a member missionary. I knew how important sharing the gospel with people not of our faith is. I even prayed for opportunities. However, none of the people I knew who weren’t members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were interested. That all changed when I entered high school and met Robbie.*
Robbie and I became friends when we performed in a musical at the community theater. After it was over, we stayed in touch and would occasionally hang out.
One evening we were messaging. Because of early-morning seminary the next morning, I needed to stop so I could go to sleep.
“Thanks for chatting, but I’ve got an early morning!” I sent the message.
“How early?” Robbie asked.
“5:30 a.m.” I replied. I wasn’t sure if I should explain why, but I felt a small nudge from the Spirit to share.
“I have early morning seminary at 6 a.m.,” I said. “It’s a class at my church where we study the scriptures and learn about God before school. I always feel really good after the class.”
Then, I felt another small nudge: “You should come sometime,” I said.
Robbie was excited when I explained what seminary was. “That sounds cool! I could bike there. Maybe I’ll come tomorrow.”
At first, I thought Robbie was kidding. But the next morning as my dad and I drove into the parking lot just before 6 a.m., there was Robbie waiting outside the church with his bicycle. I was shocked.
That day our class learned about temples as we studied the Old Testament. Robbie was fascinated through the entire lesson—he loved all the pictures and learning from all the students about the ways temples unite us with God and our families.
The teacher and other students welcomed Robbie even without any warning that he was coming. Robbie kept coming throughout the rest of the school year. He also came to a couple of youth activities. He made friends with the other youth in my ward and stake. At the end of the school year, Robbie came to the end-of-the-year seminary fireside with us.
That next summer my family moved to a different ward, but when school started again, Robbie kept going to seminary, and the entire class welcomed him back.
Robbie didn’t join the Church, but he always talked about his good experience with me when we would see each other later.

In the October 2010 general conference, Sister Rosemary M. Wixom, the Primary general president, told about a family with little kids that took three and a half years to read the Book of Mormon. My family and I decided to do the same thing. My parents helped me and my sister and brother say the words in the Book of Mormon. It took us three years to finish reading the Book of Mormon too, and when we finished, I could read all the words by myself.
When we started reading it, we lived in Recife, Brazil, where we read it for one year. Then we moved to Washington, D.C., and read it for another year. Finally we moved to Taipei, Taiwan, where we read it for one more year until we finally finished it.
I like to act out Book of Mormon stories because it’s a fun way to learn about what happened in the book. One of my favorite stories is when Abinadi taught the gospel to King Noah, and Alma had the courage to escape from King Noah to preach the gospel and baptize people into the Church. I like that story because I was baptized while we were reading the Book of Mormon as a family.

In 1945, Cynthia Mallory obtained a summer job at a tourist lodge in southern Utah as a way to earn enough money to help her through her third year of college. Several of her fellow workers, also college students, were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When they invited her to join a weekly discussion group to talk about religion, Cynthia, who was not a member of the Church, accepted because she had let her spiritual life give way to other interests during her years away from home. The group was small, led by a seminary teacher working for the summer as a tour bus driver.
She listened to the discussions and was fascinated by them but had no thought of changing religions—until they discussed the Holy Ghost. Cynthia walked to a grassy open space near the lodge, where she determined to test the promise made to her that if she would pray to the Father in the name of Jesus Christ to know the truth, she would be answered through the power of the Holy Ghost. It was dark, but the lights from the lodge made her feel safe as she knelt in the shadows to pray. Even before she finished asking the question, a light seemed to be turned on within her. The answer came clearly: what she had heard about Jesus Christ was true!
The direction of Cynthia’s life changed in that moment. She knew what to do: she would be baptized. She was exhilarated to realize that, guided by an unseen hand, she had made her first independent decision. Sensing the Savior’s approval and love, she resolved to keep his commandments.
Today, Cynthia remains devoted to the Lord and his gospel. Her testimony, strengthened by the Holy Ghost, is an ever increasing source of joy.

Anna Kate scuffed the toes of her sneakers into the dirt and watched a cloud of dust puff up around her ankles. Her wonderful week with Grandpa and Grandma was almost over. It had been great fun, especially the part here at Aunt Pru’s cabin. Just yesterday Grandpa had taken Anna Kate to his favorite fishing spot on the Provo River, and she had caught her very first fish!
But this morning had been a disaster. First, she had slept late, and Grandpa had gone fishing without her. Then Grandma and Aunt Pru just wanted to visit in the kitchen about dull, grown-up things. Anna Kate ended up sitting on the front porch by herself, feeling bored and lonely. Worse yet, tomorrow Mommy and Daddy were coming to take her home.
Suddenly she jumped to her feet. “I’m not going to spend my last day sitting around!” she thought. “I’ll find Grandpa by myself. I know the way.” She skipped across the front yard and walked down the lane to the canyon road, looking carefully both ways before crossing. Soon she came to a small bridge over the river and hurried across to the railroad tracks that ran between Heber City and Provo, Utah. This was the secret to finding Grandpa. Cross the river and turn left, then follow the railroad tracks to a huge rock. On the other side of the rock was the fishing spot.
Anna Kate walked a long time. Where was the rock? It hadn’t seemed so far with Grandpa, and somehow the railroad tracks seemed even lonelier than the front porch. Looking for a happier thought, she remembered her baptism day. How proud she had been when her parents told her she was old enough to make wise decisions and could spend a week away from home. Plodding along, she began to wonder if running off without asking Grandma had been a wise decision.
To cheer herself up, she started singing her favorite Primary songs. She was halfway through the first verse of “Give, Said the Little Stream” when she heard a noise in a bush by the side of the tracks. It sounded a bit like a loud cricket, and Anna Kate stopped singing to listen. She decided to look for the cricket, but before she could take a single step, a voice in her head said, “RUN!” She didn’t know who was talking to her, but she didn’t have to be told twice. She ran.
She was out of breath when she finally found Grandpa fishing by the river. He looked up in surprise. “Does Grandma know you’re here?”
Anna Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should have asked her.”
Grandpa smiled kindly and started putting away his fishing tackle. “Let’s hustle back to the cabin before she has a chance to worry.”
They hadn’t walked far when they saw Anna Kate’s older cousin William standing by the tracks. “There you are,” he said. “Grandma sent me to find you, and it’s a good thing.” He pointed to a bush a ways off. When Anna Kate and Grandpa got closer, they saw a huge rattlesnake with a diamond pattern down its back hiding there. “I didn’t dare let it out of my sight with you out here alone,” William said.
After that, Anna Kate always told someone where she was going. It was a long time, though, before she told anyone about the loud cricket or the voice that had saved her life. She would realize later that it had been the Holy Ghost. She already knew that it was a voice to be obeyed.

While growing up, I saw how hard my father worked to provide for our family. He was a very thrifty person. We didn’t own a home until my father could pay cash for it, and because he didn’t believe in buying on credit, we simply walked everywhere until he could afford to buy a car for our family. He owned a retail furniture store in Cedar City, Utah, and we were expected to work there. The only problem was that my father didn’t pay us to work in his store. When we were kids, I thought the reason was because he was a tightwad. It was only later that I realized that he wanted us to learn about the value of work.

Dasch couldn’t wait to play with Charlie!
Charlie was the class teddy bear. He was brown and furry. He had his own clothes. He even had a baseball hat.
Each weekend, one student took Charlie home. It was Dasch’s turn.
Dasch was excited. He had a baseball hat to wear too.
Dasch and Charlie had fun. They ate cheese pizza. They played video games. They had a sleepover.
On Sunday, lots of people visited. Dasch’s sister was leaving on a mission. She was going far away. Everyone said goodbye.
Charlie said goodbye too. His big weekend was almost over.
The next day Dasch took Charlie back to school. Dasch stood in front of the class. “What did you and Charlie do?” his teacher asked.
Dasch was nervous. He held Charlie tight.
Should he tell about the pizza? The video games? The sleepover?
Should he tell about Sunday? The kids in class didn’t go to his church. What if they laughed?
Dasch thought about his sister. He knew what she would do.
He took a deep breath. He told all about his weekend, even about his sister’s mission. He told how Charlie said goodbye.
Everyone clapped. They didn’t laugh at all!
Dasch smiled. He was brave just like his sister. Maybe he was a missionary too!

Cait and Lily are friends. They like swinging and going down the slide.
Lily likes to poke Cait. But Cait doesn’t like it.
“Poke, poke!”
“Did you have fun playing with Lily?”
“Lily likes to poke me. I don’t like it.”
“If you don’t like being poked, then you should tell her.”
“But what if that makes Lily sad?”
“If you’re not having fun, it’s OK to say stop.”
Heavenly Father wants us to take care of and protect our bodies.
“If someone touches you and you don’t like it, you can tell them no.”
“Maybe I can make up a new game to play with Lily.”
“Great idea!”
The best games are when everyone is having fun!

Some years ago during the war, Elder John A. Widtsoe went to the land of Great Britain to preside over the European Mission. When the immigration official saw his papers and who he was, he said, “Nothing doing. We have been letting your missionaries in, but we don’t want any of your leaders—go sit down.” So Brother Widtsoe went and sat down.
In a few minutes, he called him back and he said, “If I let you enter my country, what will you teach my countrymen?”
And Brother Widtsoe said, “I’ll teach them where they came from, and why they are here, and where they are going.”
The man looked up at him and he said, “Does your church teach that?”
And Brother Widtsoe said, “It does.”
“Well, mine doesn’t,” he said.
To me, that knowledge is worth more than all the wealth in this world. If we don’t know where we came from, and we don’t know why we are here, and we don’t know where we are going, nor how to get there, we are just like a ship on the ocean without a rudder, or a sail, or anyone to guide it. We might keep afloat, but we would never come into port.

When I was a bishop a few years ago, I interviewed a young man about going on a mission. When he said he wanted to go, I was grateful, for I felt that he’d be an outstanding missionary. He was a student body leader, a ward youth leader, tall, athletic, and so handsome that girls everywhere were attracted to him. I’ve never known a finer, more wholesome young man. A week later, he and a friend from another area, were killed in a car accident by a drunken driver.
The youth of my ward and stake were stunned—they couldn’t understand how such a thing could happen. They wept, their faith wavered. For days, groups of young people came to my home to cry and talk and pray about the tragedy of this young man’s death.
His funeral drew so many people that the chapel, cultural hall, and foyers were filled. Throughout the funeral service, as we reviewed the young man’s life and aspirations, the youth wept openly, vented sorrow, confronted tragedy and loss, and had their faith restored or strengthened. For years afterward they told me that meeting had changed their lives forever—some went on missions who hadn’t planned to go, others set goals of temple marriage, others changed their life-styles to be in more complete harmony with gospel principles.

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, one of our missionaries preached on that dream of Nebuchadnezzar in one of our meetings where we had some investigators, and I stood at the door to greet them as they went out. A man came up and introduced himself as a minister, and he said, “You don’t mean to tell me that you think that the Mormon Church is that kingdom, do you?”

And I said, “Yes, sir, why not?”

He said, “It couldn’t be.”

I said, “Why couldn’t it?”

He said, “You can’t have a kingdom without a king, and you don’t have a king, so you don’t have a kingdom.”

“Oh,” I said, “my friend, you didn’t read far enough. You just read the seventh chapter of Daniel, where Daniel saw one like the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven, ‘and there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him.’ (Dan. 7:14.)

“Now,” I said, “my friend, tell me how can the kingdom be given to him when he comes in the clouds of heaven if there is no kingdom prepared for him? That is what we Latter-day Saints are doing.”

While my dear wife and I were serving as mission leaders in Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar, we witnessed firsthand the power of God that comes to those who make and keep sacred covenants in the temple. The Temple Patron Assistance Fund made it possible for many Saints in these three countries to attend the temple after doing all they could through personal sacrifice and preparation. I recall meeting a group of 20 faithful Saints from Laos at an airport in Bangkok, Thailand, to help them transfer to another airport in Bangkok to catch their flight to Hong Kong. These members were brimming with excitement to finally be traveling to the house of the Lord.
When we met these good Saints upon their return, the added gospel maturity and associated power resulting from receiving their temple endowment and entering into covenants with God were evident. These Saints clearly went forth from the temple “armed with [His] power.” This power to do more than they could do themselves gave them strength to endure the challenges of Church membership in their home country and to go forth bearing “exceedingly great and glorious tidings, in truth,” as they continue building the Lord’s kingdom in Laos.

Peter Ahgook sighed a huge sigh, his dark eyes watching the daily mail plane. The plane was circling high in the crisp Alaskan sky. Soon the pilot would land on the narrow dirt strip that served as Chalkyitsik’s airport.
Sitting in a log shelter that was the only airport building, Peter dreamed of the day when he too would fly a plane through the clouds and gracefully land it on the bumpy village runways of Alaska.
“Bush pilot,” he murmured to himself. “Peter Ahgook, bush pilot.”
He was surprised out of his daydreaming by the laughter of his friend Sam Pitka.
“What’s funny?” Peter asked, quickly lowering his gaze to his friend’s grinning face.
“While you were watching the plane, I was watching you.” Sam’s grin broadened. “Daydreaming again?”
Peter felt his face go red, and he turned his head to hide his embarrassment. He could feel his friend’s eyes on him. What is so funny about wanting to be a pilot? Peter wondered.
Suddenly Peter heard himself asking, “Well, what’s wrong with watching my friend Mike land his plane?”
“I didn’t know he was your friend!” Sam exclaimed in surprise.
“Sure he is,” Peter said, trying to look confident. He wished now that he had thought before he spoke, but it was too late. He would have to make the best of it.
“If you and that pilot are friends,” Sam asked hopefully, “could you get him to let us sit in his plane for just a minute?”
Before Peter could answer, four more children sat down on the bench. They too had come to see the plane land.
“Did I hear you say we can sit in the mail plane?” asked one.
“That will be fun!” another exclaimed.
Peter pretended to be so busy watching the plane land that he didn’t hear them. He kept his eyes fixed on the plane as it touched the dirt runway, bounced several times, and then taxied to the end of the dirt strip. The mail plane stopped just a little way from the log shelter. The pilot climbed out with the mailbag in his hand.
“Are you going to ask your friend?” Sam wanted to know.
Peter was miserable. He couldn’t ask such a big favor of a man he didn’t know. He stared at the plane a minute longer, then turned to face his friend.
“Sam, I guess I was daydreaming about that too. I don’t really know the pilot. I don’t even know his name.”
Peter didn’t notice that the bush pilot was standing near the log shelter. In fact, Peter didn’t notice anything. He hung his head as he sat on the bench. The other children ran off to get a closer look at the plane while Peter sat all alone thinking. He was angry with himself. Now that Sam knew he hadn’t told the truth, would Sam ever trust him again?
Peter turned his attention to the plane. It was a small four-passenger plane, blue and white with a silver stripe. He wondered what it would be like to sit in the pilot’s seat. His cousin Fred had written last week from Fort Yukon to tell Peter about a friendly bush pilot. The pilot had let Fred climb into the plane and even sit in the pilot’s seat right in front of the controls. Maybe sometime when this pilot is not too busy, Peter thought, just maybe I can make friends with him.
Peter did not know how long he’d been thinking, when suddenly he felt a big hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the pilot smiling at him.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Peter—Peter Ahgook,” he managed to stammer.
“My name is Ben. I heard you talking to your friends. I want you to know I like an honest boy.”
The pilot’s big hand was still on Peter’s shoulder, and Peter suddenly felt happier. His words came tumbling out. He told Ben that he liked the blue and white plane and that someday he wanted to be a bush pilot himself.
The pilot smiled a friendly smile. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “One of these days when I have a few minutes, maybe you could climb in and see the plane from the inside. Would you like that?”
Peter could hardly believe his ears.
“Oh, yes!”
“It’s a deal. But for now, how about carrying this mailbag for me?”
As Peter hoisted the heavy mailbag and followed his new friend across the airstrip, he was sure he had never been as happy. Peter grinned the very broadest grin that could fit on his nine-year-old face.

One day my mom decided to make a treat for my sisters before they came home from school. We needed a couple of things from downstairs, so I went down with her. Mom was pulling out the brown sugar when she suddenly told me to move. I wasn’t even close to the brown sugar, but I moved, and just a second later a glass jar fell down right where I had been standing. I am glad that I obeyed my mom because broken glass was all over the place, and I didn’t even get hurt.

One of the pioneers of Bible translation was William Cameron Townsend. In 1917, Townsend, then twenty-one years old, was hired by contract to sell copies of the Bible in Central America. In the Guatemalan jungle, he came face to face with reality and the Cakchiquel Indians. He could sell them Spanish Bibles, but few could read them. And even though Spanish was the official language in all the schools, few Cakchiquel could express themselves freely in Spanish. Their own language had never been written.

One native asked Townsend, “Why doesn’t your God speak my language?” The missionary could not give him a good answer. Townsend stayed past his contract time, learned to speak Cakchiquel, and invented a way to write it. Then he translated the New Testament. It took him twelve years, but that translation gave those people dignity, hope, and love for the scriptures. It also gave Cameron Townsend his life’s mission.

In 1934, in an abandoned farmhouse in Arkansas, Townsend started what would become the Summer Institute of Linguistics. From two students that first year, the Institute has grown to more than three thousand linguists and trained technical people such as pilots, radio operators, nurses, and teachers. In teams of two, translators go to the forgotten peoples of the world. They learn the language, teach the people to read and write, and then with a team of native speakers, they translate the New Testament. It still takes twelve to fourteen years. Some Institute teams stay twenty years to do the Old Testament as well. A linguist can use up a lifetime translating the Bible into two languages.

Institute workers have been decimated by exotic diseases and other dangers. In 1982, one was shot by guerrillas. Many live primitively, often in isolation. Still they go.