Gospel Story Finder

While I was in high school in Oakley, Idaho, the school board was finally able to raise enough money to buy us football uniforms. Our coach was the chemistry teacher. He had seen a game one time, and so he taught us how to tackle and run a few simple plays. The rest of us had never seen an actual team play.
Our first game was against Twin Falls, Idaho, the previous year’s state high school champs. Well, as you can imagine, the game was interesting. We tried a couple of plays and didn’t go anywhere, so we kicked the ball to get rid of it. Each time we got the ball, we kicked, and each time they got the ball, they scored.
Near the end of the game, when we were battered and beaten, Twin Falls started to get a little reckless. Clifford Lee, who was playing halfback with me, had one of their wild passes land right in his arms. He wondered what to do with it. He saw them coming after him, so he started to run for his life. He scored a touchdown.
We didn’t try an extra point because we didn’t have anyone who could kick one. The final score was 106 to 6. Our team lost so badly because we had not mastered the basics of football.
In life when there is something to be done, we have to learn the basics. They are taught in the scriptures. None of them has changed. We have to learn to obey the simple, basic rules of the gospel that are necessary for us to advance.

You will find examples of them around the world—like Lisa. Lisa, age eleven, lives in England. She came home from school one day feeling very excited. She had been asked to read a part in the school devotional assembly the following morning. She said to her mother, “But some of the words are wrong.” Her mother discovered that one paragraph referred to God and the Holy Ghost as being one and the same person. Lisa and her mother decided to write a letter to Lisa’s teacher explaining that this paragraph was contrary to Lisa’s belief, and that she would feel much happier leaving it out.
The next afternoon her mother waited anxiously for Lisa to return home from school. She came home with a big, bright smile on her face. Not only had the teacher let her leave the paragraph out, but she had asked for more information about the Church. In addition, the teacher asked Lisa to present an assembly about the Church. All this came about because Lisa lived up to the covenant she had made and was willing to witness to the world her own beliefs.

All through school, I had had the same group of friends. But one year, a new student started at our school, and unlike me, he was popular. But I still somehow became his friend. In the months following, we became closer until we were best friends.
I was in the habit of going to seminary immediately after school. One day he asked me where I went every day. I decided to explain all about the Church, but from the look on his face, I realized this wasn’t the best way to talk to him. So I stopped talking so insistently.
A few months later the elders were coming over to my house at the same time some friends and I were meeting there to do homework. This friend was one of them, so I asked the elders to talk a little about the Church. He was interested in what they were saying. He realized that some things in my life were different from what he and other friends were doing, and he wanted to find out why. He started coming to church, Mutual, and seminary, and he saw that all my Church friends were like me, with the same principles. Soon he decided to be baptized.
At his baptism, the bishop asked him to bear his testimony. He stood and said: “I am here today thanks to a friend and how different he was from other people. I hope that everyone will see the differences in all of you too.”

In my own lifetime I have been a witness to the miracle of the restored gospel. When I was a young girl my family moved to São Paulo, Brazil, where my father had been called to preside over the Brazilian Mission. It was an exciting time for me and a great place to grow up. A favorite game for my brothers and me was to dress up and pretend to be missionaries. We spent hours scribbling our own missionary pamphlets and “preaching” and “transferring” all over the yard. For five years the nightly conversations around our dinner table centered on missionary work, and I listened intently to stories of faith told by missionaries. Even at that age I knew I was part of a great work.
There were only about 3,000 members of the Church in Brazil when we arrived there. I remember being in a very small Primary with a few other children, singing the same five songs every week, as those were the only ones translated into Portuguese. Two of my favorite songs were “A Luz Divina,” or “The Light Divine” (Hymns, no. 305), and something about a bunny in the middle of the woods (see “The Little Rabbit,” Children’s Friend, June 1955, 257).
In many ways our experience was similar to the early pioneers. We had no hymnbooks or pictures or lesson manuals sent from the headquarters of the Church. Everything that was needed to teach the gospel in Portuguese was written and printed in our mission home. All of us, even the children, were pressed into service to help assemble mission newsletters and lessons. No one shipped the Church to us. The prophet did not send us stake presidents or bishops. He did not send Relief Society presidents or youth programs. The Church in Brazil was made from the same material that the pioneers started with. The material to build the Church was in the people.
During our years in Brazil, we saw great growth come to the Church. Thousands became Latter-day Saints. Soon the mission was divided, districts and branches were organized, and new chapels were built. The new members were enthusiastic, and they grew in faith and became more experienced in the manner of the gospel.
A lot of years passed, and then last year I returned to Brazil to attend the rededication of the São Paulo temple. At that time I learned that there were 187 stakes in Brazil. There are now 26 missions, 4 temples, and almost 1 million members. Imagine my surprise when I walked into a stadium filled with over 60,000 members who had gathered to hear President Gordon B. Hinckley and celebrate the temple dedication. To me it was a miracle to see thousands of youth dancing and singing together. As I watched that joyful celebration, I kept saying to myself, “This is amazing! This is a miracle! How did this miracle happen?”
I marveled all that night at what I had seen. Then, the next morning at the temple dedication, I had a reunion with my Primary teacher, Sister Gloria Silveira. That was when I knew how the miracle had come about. As a new convert with no prior Church experience, Sister Silveira had come to Primary prepared to share her simple testimony and teach me the Articles of Faith in Portuguese. She and her husband, Humberto, are still faithful. They have served in many Church callings over the years, and they are still serving. When I saw Sister Silveira, I realized that the Church in Brazil had grown because of her and thousands like her. She and Brother Silveira represent people everywhere who have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His gospel. They have grown in knowledge and skill, and they have served in the Church (see D&C 88:80). They have shared the gospel with friends (see D&C 30:5). They work in the temple (see D&C 138:48). They taught their five children correct principles (see D&C 68:28). Of their 43 descendants, 15 have served full-time missions. Their grandchildren are now marrying in the temple, and their great-grandchildren are the fourth generation of Silveiras who are part of the marvelous work that was started by Joseph Smith. Because of them, faith has increased in the earth. They are an example of the miracle the Lord spoke about when He said that His gospel would be proclaimed by the weak and the simple (see D&C 1:23) and that by small and simple means great things are brought to pass (see 1 Nephi 16:29).

5. Family councils. As you would expect to hear from me, one of the best tools we have as parents is the family council. I cannot emphasize enough its importance in helping to understand and address challenges in the family. When members of one family began to feel unusual contention invading their home, they called a family council to discuss the situation. The father and then the mother explained to their children what they had observed and asked how each felt about it. The mother and father learned that since their two oldest children had left home, one to be married and one to go to college, an unfair burden of responsibility had been unwittingly shifted to the two oldest children remaining at home, and they were becoming resentful. By counseling together and listening to what their children were feeling, the family made a more equitable distribution of responsibility among the children, resolving much of the frustration and tension in the home.

If it hadn’t been for the accident, the apple pie corner would probably have stayed closed for a lot longer.
It was a Saturday morning. I know, because Dad had been drinking at the pub the night before. I was down the yard at 5.30 milking Mrs. Nephi. (I call her that because Nephi found wild goats in the promised land. I’ve often wondered whether he liked them as much as I do. I mean, he seemed to care for outsiders, and no one else in the scriptures ever seemed to reckon much to goats, did they?)
I’d just found a good spot to rest my chin—there’s an extra lump of gristle to one side of Mrs. N.’s backbone that’s softer than the rest—when all of a sudden this fox appeared, right out of nowhere, rushing in front of us.
Well, old Mrs. Nephi went crazy, staggering sideways, then stumbling across the stand. I hadn’t bothered to tether her. She never moves an inch normally. Simply gazes into the distance, grinding her teeth round and round like some old lady thinking and thinking.
But this time, back legs bucked, hooves clattered down into the bucket, milk splattered all over … and me? My head snapped back, and I fell off the stool, crashing into the heavy gate beam wedged up against the goat shed.
The beam toppled, missing my neck by inches but hitting my arm, crushing the bone with wicked pain. I remember screaming in agony until things went swimmy and black.
My shrieks must have been right powerful. Only something dreadful could waken Dad on a Saturday morning. Next thing I knew he was leaning close, yelling at me.
Somehow he got me to the hospital, ten miles away. I never, ever, want to try to drive in that condition again. The pain was so terrible, bumping over those country roads, I wanted to cry and whimper like a child. Only the sight of Dad’s tight-lipped face forced back the anguished gasps.
Come to think of it, Teacher could have used an experience like mine when we did that scripture on suffering in the Doctrine and Covenants—19 something-or-other. I need to go over that one. And to think my agony was nothing compared to His. I daren’t begin to imagine His pain—and all for the likes of me and my dad. So I pulled out those apple pie thoughts to check them through again. I don’t want to miss knowing someone who loves me that much.
The day after my accident, Teacher appeared on the doorstep. I could just about see and hear from my makeshift bed on the sofa.
“Why, hello, Mr. Bell.” She didn’t give him a chance to slam the door but kept right on talking. “I’ve brought this pie to cheer up Thomas. I know he’s fond of apples. Could you help him eat it?”
If there’s one thing Dad and I have in common, it’s appreciation of apple pies.
“I … er … I, that’s right good of you, Miss … er …” He was lost for words—my dad was actually tongue-tied. My eyes bulged, and I couldn’t keep the grin away.
“The name’s Jenny, Mr. Bell. I’m Thomas’s seminary teacher, I …”
She got no further. Dad’s tongue loosened fast. “Kind of you—yes, most kind—but I’m sorry, you can’t see the lad. He’s … er …”
Guessing the lie he would offer, I quickly waved, calling out, “Sister Summers, hello! Thanks for coming. Is that for us? Can you stop a minute? How’s Sharon? How’s the class? How’s …” I’d run out of questions, but Dad had opened the door again by this time, sheepishly stepping aside.
She came again and again. Each time Dad softened more. I didn’t realize Teacher cared for animals so much. She could even milk Mrs. Nephi!
Good job she got on the right side of Dad though, because he wouldn’t have let the home teachers round for anyone else but her. And that blessing they gave me—I don’t remember getting a feeling like that ever before in my whole life. The comforting warmth rushed clear through to my toenails.
Now I’d heard Teacher mention miracles before, but I’m not kidding, I never thought it could happen to me … me, Thomas Bell! I healed all right. So fast that the doctors weren’t sure what was going on. And they were convinced that such a messy break could never mend straight. But it did.
Dad was equally amazed. And incredible as it may seem, he actually looked at my seminary booklets one day while I worked on them. I wanted to keep going, despite the arm. I mean, I couldn’t let her down, could I, not after she had gone to so much trouble. Besides, she makes me feel kind of important. I enjoy that feeling—belonging, somehow.
I’m planning on watching her mouth drop open one day soon. Now that my arm’s in use and I’m milking Mrs. N. again, I’ve made myself a promise. With each squeeze and squirt I’ll repeat a scripture reference until they’re all glued in my brain.
Today our class finished for the year. I gave Sister Summers a box of chocolates.
She looked sort of choked, and I heard her sniff as I turned away to hide my red cheeks. On thinking it over, though, perhaps it was the words, not the chocolates, that made her cry.
“Teacher,” I said, “I’ve decided to start saving for a mission. I want to take part in all the blessings of eternity. Not only that, but I want to help others feel they’re important to someone—you know what I mean?”
She nodded, her lips wobbling a little, and she dabbed away at her eyes with a tissue.
“Oh, and by the way,” I finished in a bit of a rush, because my own eyes weren’t staying too dry either, “Dad says, if I earn half, he … he’ll pay the rest.”
I had to leave the room quickly. But not before I caught a glimpse of her face—it was glowing with such a strange look. Could that be the joy she’s always on about?
Maybe her mind has a “chocolate corner.” I like the idea of being a memory that’s pulled out every now and again.

I grew up in a quiet town in Idaho, USA. My family is Catholic, but we always felt very welcomed by the large Latter-day Saint community. We were often invited to what I now know to be “ward” activities, and I would get invited to attend Primary. I don’t remember going to Primary that often, but when I became Young Women age, I participated in lessons and was asked to play on the volleyball and softball teams.
One very special activity I went to was Young Women in Excellence night. Leigh Anne, my best friend since second grade, had invited me. I wasn’t familiar with what happened at these activities, and she’d told me just to come in a dress and to listen with my heart. She walked me through the displays of handmade crafts, desserts, inspirational thoughts, and more crafts.
Then a movie was shown of a boy with his mother, who spoke to him about eternal families. As she spoke to him, I recognized a warmth and swelling in my heart that I’d never felt before, and it made me want to cry. I wasn’t sure what it was.
I looked at Leigh Anne, and she was looking at me. She knew what I was feeling. She didn’t say a word. She just looked at me with tears in her eyes, nodding that she understood and wanted me to keep listening.
I remember the feeling I had as the Holy Ghost testified of the truthfulness of eternal families. I learned to recognize the witness of the Holy Ghost because my friend was someone I could trust and because she followed the prompting to allow me to learn. I’m so grateful for this first step in my conversion process.

The Crittenden family of the 18th North Ward, Eagle Gate Stake, in the heart of Salt Lake City, work hard. That’s all there is to it. But you never hear them complain. In fact, they’re often right there volunteering, doing a number of things that most people don’t hear about.

They work hard outside of church too. Fourteen-year-old David has a paper route and is looking forward to the time he’ll be old enough to start at McDonald’s. Seventeen-year-old Lisa is in demand as a baby-sitter, has worked at a department store, and takes on various other jobs in the summer. Their mother Judy works as a secretary at an elementary school, also works in the department store, and helps David with his paper route.

Lisa and David’s parents were divorced about 11 years ago. But you won’t hear them complain about that, either. “We were so young when the divorce happened that we don’t really remember what it’s like to have a dad around all the time,” says Lisa.

Among the things they do have that bring them together as a family are their pets. There are three terrier poodles and a cat to care for, and they love it. When one dog had puppies, the family helped and watched in awe.

The Church brings them close, too. You can often find Lisa helping her mother, the ward greeter, at the chapel door, handing out programs. David is usually one of the first to volunteer to pass the sacrament, and the family is very supportive of Lisa in her duties as first counselor in the Laurel presidency and as devotional counselor in seminary. Also, the time they spend praying and reading the scriptures together is a real unifier.

Of course this is not a fairy tale family. They have their fair share of spats. David felt like he had to work forever to pay Lisa back for her Walkman that got broken when he borrowed it. And Lisa and her mother are not always in agreement about who uses the car and when.

But those kinds of things are inevitable. Every family has disputes—it goes with the territory. But so can love and unity and support. They can be there if you work for them. And working hard in one area can teach you to work hard in the others. The Crittendens know that with the Lord’s help they can work their way through anything that comes along.

Many years ago, our family had an experience which left an indelible impression as to the importance and value and power of a father’s blessing. The lessons learned may be of interest to you.
When our oldest children were ready to begin formal schooling, Sister Bateman and I decided that a father’s blessing would be given to each child at the beginning of the school year. The family home evening preceding the start of school would be the occasion. The year our oldest son, Michael, entered the third grade holds special memories for us. During the preceding summer he had participated in Little League baseball. He loved the sport. When we gathered for family home evening just before the start of school, Michael announced that he did not need a blessing. He had completed his first season in Little League, and blessings were for younger children.
Sister Bateman and I were stunned. We encouraged him, suggesting that a blessing would help him with his schoolwork. It would be a protection to him. It would help him in his relations with his brothers, sisters, and friends. Our encouragement, along with some coaxing, failed. He was too old. Believing in the principle of agency, we were not about to force a blessing on an eight-year-old. All of the children except Michael received a blessing that year.
The school year proceeded normally. Michael and the other children did well in school, and the family enjoyed their associations together. Then the following May arrived, and it was time for Little League baseball to begin. Following the last day of school, Michael’s coach called a team practice. Michael’s anticipation could not have been greater. His dream was about to be realized. He was to be the starting catcher. The baseball diamond was only a few blocks from our home. The boys and the coach walked to the baseball field, crossing a busy highway. Following the practice, the boys and coach started for home. Michael and a friend ran on ahead of the coach and the other boys. As the two boys approached the busy highway, Michael failed to look and darted in front of a car driven by a 16-year-old young man out for his first drive. Can you imagine the fear that must have struck the young man’s heart? He slammed on the brakes and swerved in an attempt to miss the boy. Unfortunately, the side of the front fender and bumper hit Michael and threw him down the highway.
A short time later, Sister Bateman and I received a telephone call from the police. Michael, in critical condition, was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. It was important that we hurry. Before leaving, I called a friend and asked him to meet us at the hospital and assist in giving a blessing. The 20-minute drive was the longest of our lives. We prayed fervently for the life of our son and to know the will of the Lord.
As we parked the car by the door of the emergency room, we saw a policeman exiting with a young man who was crying. The policeman recognized us and introduced the young man as the driver of the car. We knew enough of the story to put our arms around him and tell him that we knew it was not his fault. We then entered the hospital to find Michael. As we entered his room, the doctors and nurses were working feverishly, attending to his needs. My friend had arrived, and we asked if it would be possible to have two or three minutes alone with him. My priesthood brother anointed, and I sealed. As I laid my hands upon Michael’s head, a feeling of comfort and peace came over me, words flowed, and promises were made. He was then rushed to the operating room.
For the next four weeks, Michael lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his leg in traction. Each Wednesday, his Little League teammates would visit him after the game and give him a report. Each Wednesday, tears would well up in Michael’s eyes and run down his cheeks as the boys relived the game. After four weeks in traction, Michael was put in a body cast from his chest to his toes. On two or three occasions we took him to a game to watch his friends play. Another four weeks passed, and the body cast was replaced with a cast from his hip to his toes. Two days before school was to begin, the final cast was removed. As the family gathered the next night for school blessings, is there any wonder as to who wanted the first blessing? A nine-year-old boy, a little older and a lot wiser, was first in line.
Over the years our children have come to understand that accidents are not always prevented by priesthood blessings, but they also know that more than one type of protection is available through the priesthood. Today, our grandchildren are the recipients of priesthood blessings. The tradition is in the second and third generations. We believe that this practice, like the family, will prevail through the eternities.

Just before I turned 18 I finished school and decided to go visit one of my friends. She had married my uncle, and they had moved from England to Switzerland. The week I arrived in Switzerland, two Mormon missionaries knocked on their door.
I eagerly asked them to teach me and decided to be baptized after only three visits. Two weeks after my 18th birthday I was baptized. I had found my people, my world, and was in the arms of my Heavenly Father again.

The privilege and opportunity to magnify our callings may come in unexpected ways. When I was a deacon, I remember sitting on the front row of benches in the chapel, along with the other deacons, as the priests prepared to bless the sacrament. One of the priests, whose name was Leland, had a “golden” voice. When he offered the prayer at the sacrament table, the words were clearly pronounced and beautifully spoken. Many would compliment him as the meeting concluded. I think he became a bit proud.
Another priest, named John, sat with Leland one day. John had a hearing impairment and an accompanying speech problem. His words were somewhat difficult to understand. Often we deacons would quietly laugh among ourselves when John prayed.
The bread was broken, the hymn was sung. All bowed their heads as Leland prepared to pray. We heard no words spoken. The silence seemed eternal. I opened my eyes and saw Leland looking frantically for the small card on which the words of the prayer were printed. It was nowhere to be found. Others began to open their eyes and raise their heads questioningly.
Just then, John, who had the hearing and speaking problems, reached forth, gently guided Leland to one side, knelt down and, from memory, spoke the words of that familiar prayer: “O God, the Eternal Father, we ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it …” (Moro. 4:3). He never missed a word.
As we left the chapel that day, Leland said to John, “I thank you very sincerely for helping me today.”
John responded, “We are both priests in the same quorum doing our duty.”

I refer to my middle school years as the Dark Ages because of my personal trial during that time.
My parents thought they had a strict electronics policy, but they were unaware that their online filters only worked on the computers and not on other electronic devices.
I got hooked on YouTube and games on my smartphone and tablet. I would think of bizarre questions and just look them up. I let my curiosity control me. Inevitably, I even ran into pornography.
I wasted hours upon hours staying up late at night watching pranks and funny videos. I thought it was making me happy. But deep down I knew it was destroying me. I also spent hours upon hours playing games. I downloaded new ones when I got bored of the old ones. I “earned” points and “bought” things to “benefit” my “character.” I leveled up and leveled up. And for what?
Nothing.
It all boiled down to colorful, pointless pixels that wasted countless hours of valuable time. Distraction—it’s one of Satan’s biggest and most effective tools.
During the Dark Ages, I drew away from my family, finding sneaky ways to be on my electronic devices without my parents’ knowing. I was constantly on edge, worrying that my problem would be discovered.
During the Dark Ages, I began to develop awful ideas. I doubted my beliefs. I had unclean thoughts and unrighteous plans for my future. I was desensitized. I let my electronics control me.
One day, my parents found out I had the Internet on my device and asked to see it for inspection. I could’ve easily covered up my tracks; I’d done it before.
My mom and I sat on the end of her bed. She assured me that I’d get my phone back the next day and explained what she and my dad were doing.
I felt the strongest impression to confess. I got hit in the head with the brick I’d been dodging for so long: I knew I needed to change. I was afraid, but the Lord gave me the strength I needed to confess.
When I told my parents, they were disappointed but understanding. I lost their trust for a while after that. My electronics went into my parents’ custody, and I chose to go to the bishop to help me repent. It would be months before I touched my electronics again.
I hadn’t fully realized the extent of my problem until I quit. For years, I’d been relying on it for a false sense of comfort and security. Whenever I still had a bad day, I’d think, “Well, I’ll just watch some funny videos and play some games.” But then I’d realize that those days were gone. My main source of pleasure was now gone. I felt confused and lost. What was I supposed to do now?
Gradually I lost my attachment to my electronics and discovered new ways to find joy. Over time, I realized how badly I’d been destroying myself.
I wish I could say it was over after that. I’ve fallen into the habit again a few times since then. But every time it happens, I can feel the companionship of the Spirit leave as I get sucked into the distractions of the world.
Whenever that happens, I force myself to delete all the games on my phone and disconnect with the Wi-Fi. I have to do this in one brief moment, as soon as the realization comes. Otherwise, if I procrastinate, I allow myself to rationalize.
Each time I’m reminded of the Dark Ages, I see how far I’ve come since then. I don’t want to go backward or wayward; I want to go forward. The Lord, my family and friends, my future children—all of them need me to press forward.
Going anywhere but forward is selfish and prideful. Satan feeds off of it. He knows that his hold is firm on the selfish and proud. If people think their decisions affect only themselves, then they’ll choose to do whatever they want at the moment.
I’ve also learned to use media and entertainment sparingly. I enjoy watching movies, because movies end. When I was on the Internet so much, I just kept going and going like it would never end. I use social media only occasionally. Even then, I can get distracted and waste time. I have to be careful.
Often when I tell other teenagers of the blessings of limiting their technology use, they get defensive. But trust me, life is so much better this way.
I’m closer to my family. I realize what has real value in my mortal and eternal life, and I cling to it. I can experience true joy as I draw closer to the Lord in righteous thoughts and actions.
Yes, it will be hard, but it is so worth it.

A little over a year ago a couple came into my office carrying a little boy. The father said to me, “My wife and I have been fasting for two days, and we’ve brought our little boy up for a blessing. You are the one we’ve been sent to.” I said, “What’s the matter with him?” They said he was born blind, deaf and dumb, no coordination of his muscles, couldn’t even crawl at the age of five years. I said to myself, “This is it. ‘This kind cometh not out save by fasting and by prayer.’” I had implicit faith in the fasting and the prayers of those parents. I blessed that child, and a few weeks later I received a letter: “Brother Cowley, we wish you could see our little boy now. He’s crawling. When we throw a ball across the floor he races after it on his hands and knees. He can see. When we clap our hands over his head he jumps. He can hear.” Medical science had laid the burden down. God had taken over. The little boy was rapidly recovering or really getting what he’d never had.

In the summer of 2011, the Wundram family was ready to move from Guatemala to the United States so that Carlos Wundram, a doctor, could pursue advanced studies.
“When we were ready to go,” he recalls, “something stopped me.” His wife, Adriana, experienced the same feelings, so together they prayed and received a confirmation in their hearts that they should not go.
They canceled their plans—and were left wondering what God had in mind for them. Four months later they would find out.
Carlos had been a member of the Church since he was 14 but had dropped out of activity around the time he began his university studies at age 21.
Adriana, although not a member herself, had long wanted to marry a Latter-day Saint. A good friend of hers, a Church member, had married a returned missionary who was tender, loving, and attentive. Adriana wanted a husband like that.
When they first started going out, Adriana and Carlos did not talk of his religion, but he demonstrated many of the qualities of her friend’s husband. He did not act superior to her. After they got married and had children, she appreciated that he bathed the babies and changed diapers!
As their three children began to grow up, “we began to think that we should get closer to God,” Carlos says. They did not find what they were looking for in the Christian church they attended for a time, but the feelings that they needed to get nearer to God persisted.
After canceling their plans to move to the United States, the Wundrams decided to make some improvements to their home, including buying new windows. They immediately liked the man who came to do the installation, José Mena. One day a discussion with him touched on religion. He said he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Carlos replied that he was also but had not attended for some time.
The next time Brother Mena came to work on the windows, he brought a Book of Mormon and a copy of the Liahona for each family member. Reading the magazine, Carlos began to experience familiar spiritual feelings. Then Brother Mena invited them to attend the Quetzaltenango Guatemala Temple open house.
When they entered the temple, the Wundram children began to ask, “Dad, what can we do to be members of this Church?” As they left, their youngest son, Rodrigo, age 10, lingered behind and, with the help of his mother, filled out a card requesting a visit from the missionaries.
The family met with the missionaries. “I did not want to pressure my family to be baptized,” Carlos says. “But they really felt the Spirit for themselves.”
Adriana and the children were baptized in December 2011, a few days before the dedication of the Quetzaltenango Temple. “The great blessing that God gave me is that I baptized them,” Carlos says. Just over one year later, the family was sealed in the temple, a joyous occasion for all of them.

Many years ago Elder Widtsoe told the story of his mother, Anna Karine Gaarden Widtsoe, who, one hundred years ago was caught up in the “gospel net.” Elder Widtsoe’s prologue is as follows:
“This is the story of a woman, a seeker after truth, who, tossed by the waves of mysterious fate, was caught by the Gospel net, and carried into a far country, where, through the possession of eternal truth, though amidst much adversity, she and her family found unbounded happiness.” (In the Gospel Net, Independence, Mo: Zion’s Printing and Publishing Co., 1941, Prologue.)
The beautiful story concerning his mother, who came from an obscure island off Norway, has been repeated thousands of times in the lives of the Latter-day Saints. These experiences are the foundation of the faith of every member of the Church. As I make reference to some of the influences that have drawn us into the gospel net, I hope that every Latter-day Saint will reflect on the spiritual power which has brought us to the gospel.
Elder Widtsoe’s mother responded to the words of a humble shoemaker who had placed some tracts in her child’s shoes. Speaking to her with some hesitation as she was leaving his shop, he said, “You may be surprised to hear me say that I can give you something of more value than soles for your child’s shoes.”
She responded, “What can you, a shoemaker, give me better than soles for my son’s shoes?”
He answered, “If you will but listen, I can teach you the Lord’s true plan of salvation for His children. I can teach you how to find happiness in this life and to prepare for eternal joy in the life to come. I can tell you whence you came, why you are upon the earth, and where you will go after death. I can teach you as you have never known it before, the love of God for his children on earth.” (In the Gospel Net, pp. 54–55.)
The deep and powerful influence which has reached out across time and space, often into far and hidden corners of the earth, has the effect to snatch people from their normal life patterns and bring them to Zion.
Since the Church was organized in 1830, the gospel net has encircled and drawn together many millions of people who, either through their own personal experience, or through receiving the teachings of their parents and grandparents, have found the way to eternal life.
This means that for those who receive the message, the confusion of ages about how to come to Christ has ended. The answers are at hand to the great questions, such as:
What is the meaning of human life on earth?
Is there revelation from heaven?
Where are the Apostles and prophets?
What about those who never heard of Christ?
Which of the many churches is authorized by God?
Who has authority to administer the gospel?
How can I know what God wants me to do?
There is only one way these questions could ever be answered. God would have to tell us. To do so he has called a latter-day prophet. He has sent heavenly messengers to confer the true priesthood and authority. He has revealed the Book of Mormon to support the witness of the Bible that Jesus is Christ. He has reestablished the ordinances and restored the everlasting covenant. The sure way to eternal life is again in place.
My own membership in the Church is in response to this powerful influence. My own grandparents in Switzerland were also led by the Spirit in the midst of ridicule and persecution to find the path by which they could rear their children with the sure knowledge of divine truth.
My mother’s grandparents were among the first in England to respond to the teachings of Heber C. Kimball and Willard Richards in 1837.
They vibrated to the thrilling news that the kingdom of God had been brought back to the earth.
The human soul, to be spiritually alive, requires a vision, a yearning, a longing, a desire. The spirit of America reaches out to that longing: the great vision of liberty, the spirit of freedom, the land of opportunity and hope.
Sister Bangerter and I recently stood at the feet of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor with President and Sister McGregor of Caldwell, New Jersey. They pointed out Ellis Island as the entry point into this land for hundreds of thousands of immigrants, including my grandparents and also Elder Widtsoe and his mother. We read again the inspiring words of Emma Lazarus announcing the beacon to wandering souls. Referring to the ancient statue on the Greek island of Rhodes, she speaks of “The New Colossus”:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land:
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome: her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your stored pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost, to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Then President McGregor coupled this feeling to the words of Lehi:
“Wherefore, this land is consecrated unto him whom he shall bring. And if it so be that they shall serve him according to the commandments which he hath given, it shall be a land of liberty unto them; wherefore, they shall never be brought down into captivity; … but unto the righteous it shall be blessed forever.” (2 Ne. 1:7.)
The yearning of ancient Israel was to Jerusalem. During their captivity, the soul of the people was expressed in the 137th Psalm:
“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. …
“For they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
“If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.” (Ps. 137:1, 3–6.)
All of us should reflect on what we have joined and what power has captured our faith. Hundreds of thousands living today have in their own lifetime personally found the pearl of great price. They are the grandparents of the future whose names will be blessed by their posterity.
For forty-five years I have had close association with the land of Brazil. Many tens of thousands have joined the Church in that country. I had great joy yesterday in hearing of the call of Elder Helio da Rocha Camargo, our companion and fellow member of the Church. Brother Camargo and his wife were stalwart, faithful people before they joined the Church. They had been brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Brother Camargo was a graduate of the military academy of Brazil. Later, still a young man, he became a Methodist minister. He told me something of his experience with the “gospel net.” One evening two young men called at his home. He said that the first thing he noticed was the huge feet of one of the young men. He looked upward from the feet until he found the face of the tallest North American he had ever met. He was not at first impressed with the beauty of either the feet or the face. However, he invited the young men in, and in the process of their presentation they left him a copy of the Book of Mormon.
On a subsequent visit they inquired if he had read the book. He explained that he had read considerable, making notes of the things with which he did not agree. The elder then suggested that it was not in keeping with a book of scripture to read it to see what was wrong with it, but that it should be read as Moroni says, “with a sincere heart” and “real intent,” having “faith in Christ” and desiring to know the truth of the book. (See Moro. 10:4.)
Brother Camargo said he found it necessary to read the book again. In the process the Spirit witnessed to him that it was the true word of God, and he joined the Church with his family. He sometimes refers to the scripture in Isa. 52:7 which says, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet [those huge missionary feet] of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; … that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!” The truth he has found has brought similar beauty to the feet of three of his sons as they have served as missionaries. All of his children were married in the temple covenant, and he and his wife have great joy and rejoicing in their posterity. One of his sons is present at this conference today as a stake president.
President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., captured the spirit of this drawing power in his memorable address in 1947 “to them of the last wagon”—our pioneers who endured the hardships of their great journey:
“They had,” he said, “their testimony burning always like an eternal fire on a holy altar, that the restored gospel was true. …
“When in the evening the last wagon creaked slowly into its place in the circle corral, and the Brethren came to inquire how the day had gone with the mother, then joy leaped in their hearts, for had not the Brethren remembered them? New hope was born, weariness fled, fresh will to do was enkindled; gratitude to God was poured out for their knowledge of the truth, for their testimony that God lived, that Jesus was the Christ, that Joseph was a prophet, … and that for the righteous a crown of glory awaited that should be theirs during the eternities of the life to come.”
He states that at the conclusion of their journey, “[they] all sank to their knees in the joy of their souls, thanking God that at last they were in Zion. ‘Zion, Zion, lovely Zion, beautiful Zion, Zion, City of our God.’” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1947, pp. 157–58.)
What a thrill of joy must have moved Andrew as he said to Peter, “We have found the Messias.” (John 1:41.) Along with countless thousands, it has “come to pass that the righteous shall be gathered out from among all nations, and shall come to Zion, singing with songs of everlasting joy.” (D&C 45:71.)
May we lift our souls this beautiful Easter morning with the assurance that through the mystic call of the restored gospel we have come to the threshold of Zion and the gateway to eternal life. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“We think Australia is the greatest!” said Bill Foggle as he and the other young Latter-day Saints rushed to explain some of the unique and unusual facts about their homeland and its inhabitants.
Young Latter-day Saints in Sydney often meet together to do service projects, work on the local Church welfare farms, participate in sports, and see the sights of their fair city. On this Saturday the young people met at the famous Sydney Opera House, then took the ferryboat across the harbour to Taronga Zoo, where they laughed at the animals’ antics and lunched on meat pies and chips.
From the zoo, the young people caught another boat ride back to the Rocks area on the western shore of Sydney Cove. Here they caught a glimpse of the very early colonial life of the city. After a walk under the bridge and a stop at the Argyle Center to see some aboriginal art and shops featuring Australian sheepskins, pottery, and needlework, the day was gone. Bill and his friends had to hustle back to the opera house parking lot where everyone said their good-byes and ta-ta’s and went their separate ways for home.

Davin E., 14, from Alberta, Canada, understands this well, and he has found that the Fulfilling My Duty to God booklet has been a great resource in his efforts. “It teaches me that I can serve others and that I can invite others to come unto Christ, and it helps me prepare for my mission,” he says.
Working with his dad on Duty to God has been an added blessing for Davin.
As he approaches each new section of the booklet, Davin sets goals regarding what he wants to learn. Then he and his father, James, discuss how he will learn about his selected topic, as well as what he can do to act on what he learns. Once he’s done that, he has the opportunity to share what he’s learned either in family home evening or at the beginning of his teachers quorum meeting on Sunday.
His father says, “My favorite goal was Davin’s desire to learn about his priesthood duty. We searched the Doctrine and Covenants together to discover the sections pertaining to the priesthood. He then read these sections and shared what he had learned with the family and in his journal. I believe that as Davin learns and applies the truths of the gospel on his own, they will become relevant to him personally.”
As for Davin, he appreciates working together with his dad. “Doing Duty to God with my dad helps me because he has more insight than I do and knows what I need to do to become a better priesthood holder,” he says.
Davin concludes, “Duty to God improves your life, and it allows you to learn things that you discover are important. I know that fulfilling my priesthood duties helps me and others in the Church. And I know that Duty to God allows me to strengthen my testimony.”

Introducing the gospel to my father was important to me. He attended another church and was an elder in that church but had been denied baptism because he was married three times. My mother was the first wife. He visited us and I told him about the missionaries. He did not think there could be truth anywhere else but in his Methodist church. As he learned more about the Church, he decided to be baptized. He had been sick off and on for a while. After he was baptized, he felt better and went home.
My hope was that he would stay strong in the Church. Every Sunday he would sit with the Book of Mormon and sing hymns. He especially liked hymns 44 and 45— “Beautiful Zion, Built Above” and “Lead Me into Life Eternal.” Some of his family members deserted him because of the truth that he embraced. They said that I took him from the family church. He told them that God brought the Church to him for his sake. He was given a blessing by President Albert Mutariswa, of the Nigeria Enugu Mission.
A branch was established in Ojantell and my father gave his own house to be used for the Church and there were many baptisms because of that. Before his death, he said that the Church would have access to his house for meetings until they no longer needed it. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gave him a befitting burial. I plan to go to the temple and do the baptism for my mom and seal them together with his children.

John and Cathy visited a counselor for help with their marriage. “John can’t control his temper,” said Cathy. “He’s angry all the time, and I usually don’t even know why.”
As the conversation progressed, John became steadily more agitated. Suddenly, he stood up and yelled at his wife, “I don’t have to listen to this! You’re the one who needs counseling, not me!” Then he stormed out of the room, leaving Cathy trembling and pale.
It is impossible to have the Spirit when we are angry. The Savior told the Nephites that “the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil” (3 Ne. 11:29). When we allow the spirit of anger into our homes, we provide an atmosphere in which Satan can drive wedges between family members. Anger is self-serving; it feeds only our own worst emotions.
The Savior spoke against anger in the Sermon on the Mount: “Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire” (Matt. 5:22).
Notice that this scripture tells us not to participate in name-calling. How often do family members use belittling names and phrases in an attempt to hurt?
The alternative to anger is self-control. This doesn’t mean that we should never express our displeasure or correct offensive behavior. But when we do, we need to keep in mind that it is the behavior that is offensive, not the individual being corrected. The Lord’s counsel is that we should exercise “gentleness and meekness, and … love unfeigned; …
“Reproving betimes [quickly] with sharpness [clarity], when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be thine enemy” (D&C 121:41, 43).
The keys are self-control and love. These attributes are developed over time and take patience.
Keys to Overcoming Anger
When you feel angry, ask yourself, Who will benefit if I express my anger? If a criticism will not benefit the one toward whom it is directed, don’t say it.
If it is necessary to reprove, practice the principle of correcting quickly and clearly and then showing afterwards an increase of love toward the one reproved.
Avoid name-calling, especially in anger.
Work on increasing your self-control in other areas of your life.
Seek to have the Holy Ghost in your life. You cannot feel the Spirit of the Lord and the spirit of anger at the same time.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has blessed the lives of Russians since at least 1895. In that year, Johan and Alma Lindelof were baptized in St. Petersburg. Years earlier, Brother Lindelof had heard the gospel preached in his native Finland when a missionary taught and baptized his mother. Later, Johan, a skilled goldsmith, and his wife, Alma, moved to Russia. Sixteen years later, Elder August Hoglund was sent to Russia in response to letters the Lindelofs had written to the Scandinavian Mission president. They were baptized in June 1895 in the Neva River in St. Petersburg.
After joining the Church, the Lindelofs were visited occasionally by missionaries. By 1903, when Elder Francis M. Lyman of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles offered two prayers of dedication in Russia, one in St. Petersburg and one in Moscow, two of the Lindelof children had also been baptized. Many felt the Lindelof family would play a prominent role in bringing the gospel to Russia. Had it not been for the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, that expectation might have been realized.
In 1918, in an apparent attempt to dispossess the wealthy Lindelofs, the family was imprisoned in a labor camp, their home ravaged and their property confiscated. Of the seven children, only one son and one daughter survived. Two daughters are known to have died in exile. The fate of the other three children is unknown.1