Gospel Story Finder

Over forty-five years ago, when Dallin H. Oaks was a law professor at the University of Chicago, he had a harrowing encounter that almost ended in bloody tragedy. One evening, after a late church meeting, Elder Oaks and his wife, June, drove another sister to her apartment building. Returning to the car after walking this sister to her door, he was accosted by a young man brandishing a gun. The agitated juvenile jabbed his barrel into Elder Oaks' belly, demanding all his money. When he discovered Elder Oaks didn't have any cash, he demanded access to the car where June was inside watching this terrifying drama through the window. Think for a second, how would you have responded to that threat? Elder Oaks chose to not give in to his demands. A stand-off ensued, and the young man threatened to kill him if he didn't comply. But Elder Oaks stood firm.
At one point during this tense stalemate, the young man became distracted by a bus approaching behind him, out of his view, and he let his gun drift a bit to one side. Elder Oaks saw an opportunity, fully confident he could disarm the young man if he acted quickly to seize the weapon. Now what would you have done? Would you have made a grab for the gun? Elder Oaks almost did. But then something happened. "I did not see anything or hear anything, Elder Oaks said, "but I knew something. I knew what would happen if I grabbed that gun. We would struggle, and I would turn the gun into that young man's chest. It would fire, and he would die. I also understood that I must not have the blood of that young man on my conscience for the rest of my life."[1] It was a surprising thought for Elder Oaks; his life and the life of this stranger, this young man who wanted to harm him, were intertwined. Either they both made it out alive or both of them would be damaged. And that simple thought, that connection, completely changed the situation. "I relaxed," Elder Oaks said, "and as the bus pulled away I followed an impulse to put my right hand on his shoulder and give him a lecture. June and I had some teenage children at that time, and giving lectures came naturally. 'Look here,' I said. 'This isn't right. What you're doing just isn't right. The next car might be a policeman, and you could get killed or sent to jail for this.'"[2] Now it was the young man's turn to be surprised. The man he'd threatened to kill wasn't scared or angry, but was acting like a loving father, placing a warm hand on his shoulder and expressing genuine concern for his safety. This totally threw him off. "With the gun back in my stomach," Elder Oaks noted, "the young robber replied to my lecture by going through his demands for the third time. But this time his voice was subdued. When he offered the final threat to kill me, he didn't sound persuasive. When I refused again, he hesitated for a moment and then stuck the gun in his pocket and ran away."[3]

When I was a child, my parents sang in our ward choir. Mother especially loved to sing at Christmastime. Every Christmas Eve our family reenacted the Nativity story and sang Christmas songs. We always finished with mother’s favorite, “Silent Night.”
In her early 60s, my mother developed asthma. Years of coughing and struggling with the illness eventually ravaged her voice. She also lost hearing in one ear and suffered diminished hearing in the other ear. She still attempted to sing but often just read and thought about a song’s lyrics.
One Sunday while I visited my parents during the Christmas season, we attended sacrament meeting. The program centered on the birth and mission of Jesus Christ.
“I won’t have asthma in the hereafter, will I?” my mother asked me before the meeting started.
“Of course not,” I replied.
Then we talked about other physical ailments she would no longer have after the Resurrection.
“I’ll be able to sing again,” she said.
“With the choirs of heaven,” I added.
As we sang the opening hymn, “Away in a Manger,” Mother could not hear the piano accompaniment. She started singing the Primary version of the song instead of the Hymns version, which has a different melody. I tried to correct her, but she had difficulty hearing me. During the sacrament hymn, she continued to struggle. She really wanted to sing, but her pitch was all over the place.
As the sacrament meeting progressed, I felt the warmth of the Spirit and the sweet innocence of the children who bore their testimonies of the Savior in song. Then, as the congregation began to sing the closing song, “Silent Night,” so did my mother.
Listening to her struggle, I wished with all my heart that she could again sing Christmas songs the way she used to. As she sang, however, I felt the quiet warmth of the Spirit speak to my mind and heart: “Her offering is acceptable to me.”
At that moment, my mother’s voice took on a new beauty, blessed and sanctified by a loving Savior who looked on her heart. And, as He did when the widow cast in two mites (see Luke 21:1–4), He rejoiced in her sincerity and offering.

This question from Sister Yee reminded me of a lesson learned from my daughter. When she was small, Paige used to hate Band-Aids. Some kids run to their moms for a Band-Aid for every little owie, but Paige never wanted one. To her, needing a Band-Aid meant that she was really hurt. As long as I didn’t offer her one, she would bravely handle all the scrapes and cuts that came her way. But the minute I insisted that she needed a Band-Aid, she would get upset and, I believe, actually feel more physical pain.

Are we like this when we have need of the spiritual Band-Aid of daily repentance? Do we avoid repentance as much as possible, thinking that surely this little thing in our lives is not big enough to require repentance? Instead, let us become like the little child who quickly runs to our Father every time we have a tiny bump or bruise. Let us come to Him each night and morning and ask for His healing balm to bind up our wounds. Making repentance a daily practice will prepare us to receive ordinances and to make and keep covenants with our Savior.

Some time ago, my wife and I became concerned about a pattern of behavior developing in some of our teenage children during family scripture study, family home evenings, and even our impromptu, one-on-one gospel-centered conversations. They were meeting a minimum learning standard—a physical presence, occasional eye-contact, and one-word answers—but they were not engaging in active learning.
We knew that in order for them to gain strong testimonies and to experience deep, personal conversion by the power of the Holy Ghost, they needed to do more. The Savior wants His disciples to not just hear His words—He wants them to act on His teachings with faith (see Teaching in the Savior’s Way [2016], 30).
One night we talked with them about our feelings. Our intent was to counsel with them in a Spirit-guided discussion. Our discussion, however, quickly deteriorated into a one-way lecture. Our boys heard our message, but their minds and hearts remained unaffected.
That experience troubled us, so my wife and I began to ponder how we could help our children become more proactive in their gospel learning, inspiring them to act instead of being acted upon by our speeches and lectures. Our questions led us to develop a plan based on what we learned from searching the scriptures, the words of latter-day prophets, and other Church resources related to teaching and learning. Our plan reads:
Cultivate love and respect. Love softens hearts. Expressions of love will help prepare our children for the influence of the Holy Ghost. It will also nurture their desire and willingness to engage in active, spiritual learning. Respecting our children by listening to and validating their perspective and feelings will help them feel safer and more willing to share what they are feeling.
Teach by the Spirit. Carefully observing and listening to our children will prepare us to discern by the Spirit what to say next, what question to ask, or what invitation to extend that will lead them to seek the Holy Ghost’s influence in their learning.
Anchor every discussion in the word of God. While sharing our own thoughts and opinions about the gospel together can be helpful, the scriptures and the words of latter-day prophets will often provide a deeper, more powerful connection to the Spirit (see D&C 84:45).
Make the Savior the basis of all gospel-centered discussions. Substance and power will come to our discussions as our children see how what we are discussing relates to the Savior and His Atonement, “the very root of Christian doctrine” (Boyd K. Packer, “The Mediator,” Ensign, May 1977, 56).
Ask inspiring questions. Effective questions will lead our children to draw truth and understanding directly from the scriptures and words of the prophets with the Spirit’s help. What they learn in that way will mean more to them than our clearest explanations of the very same material.
Encourage family members to do the talking. When our children use their own words to express what they are seeing, thinking, or feeling, they invite the Holy Ghost to help them know what to say and how to say it. That process will help them see and understand more clearly what the Lord wants them to learn and feel.
Be patient! The Holy Ghost will work with our children as they search their minds and hearts for truth and understanding. We need to resist the temptation to cut their search short by prematurely jumping in with personal opinions and self-conceived solutions.
Lead by example. Striving to learn and live the gospel in the same way we ask of our children will help us qualify for the support and guidance of the Spirit in our discussions.
As we’ve tried to implement our plan, we are learning that inviting the influence of the Holy Ghost into our family discussions will take practice and time. But we refuse to get discouraged or give up. Just the other night, our 10-year-old daughter, prompted by a verse from the Book of Mormon we were reading as a family, asked in sweet sincerity, “How do you learn by the Holy Ghost?” I smiled. I knew we were getting somewhere!

Two of the blessings that a senior priesthood companion can give are trust and an example of caring. I saw that when my son was given a home teaching companion who had vastly more priesthood experience than he did. His senior companion had been a mission president twice and had served in other leadership positions.

Before they were to visit one of their assigned families, that seasoned priesthood leader asked to visit my son in our home beforehand. They allowed me to listen. The senior companion opened with prayer, asking for help. Then he said something like this to my son: “I think we should teach a lesson that will sound to this family like a call to repentance. I think they won’t take it very well from me. I think they would take the message better from you. How do you feel about that?”

I remember the terror in my son’s eyes. I can still feel the happiness of that moment when my son accepted the trust.

It was not by accident that the bishop put that companionship together. It was by careful preparation that the senior companion had learned about the feelings of that family they were about to teach. It was by inspiration that he felt to step back, to trust an inexperienced youth to call older children of God to repentance and to safety.

I don’t know the outcome of their visit, but I do know that a bishop, a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, and the Lord were preparing a boy to be a priesthood man and someday a bishop.

During July 2009 more than 160 youth and young adults gathered for a day of friendship, workshops, dancing, and testimonies at the first youth conference ever held in Ethiopia.
Because the four branches are not organized into a district, many members were not aware that there were other branches and Church members in Ethiopia. Part of the conference’s purpose was to allow them to interact with their peers while being spiritually uplifted.
Wondwossen Amanuel, 23, who was submitting his missionary papers to become the first missionary from the Awasa Branch, said, “It gives you encouragement when you gather together and do such activities. Our branch is small, but there we felt like we were in the herd—and it’s like family.”
Participants proudly wore CTR rings and T-shirts emblazoned with the words “Steady and Sure,” the conference theme.
Two months of concerted efforts by missionaries, branch presidents, and the charitable organization Hope Arising, brought together pioneering Saints from the four widespread branches to the chapel complex in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.
The participants traveled by bus up to five hours to attend the conference, and more than half of them were nonmembers and investigators. Two were baptized in the following weeks.
“When [the youth] realize that there are other young people with their hopes, dreams, problems, and concerns, they have more confidence. They know they are not alone, and this gives them strength,” said Elder Brad Wilkes, a full-time missionary who, with his wife, Sister Karen Wilkes, helped organize the conference.

Photograph by Carrie Leona Ryan
Sometimes familiarity and routine have the tendency to rob otherwise sacred moments of their full meaning. For me, I had let the sacrament lose some of its intended meaning. Each week, I listened to the sacred sacramental prayers while seated in nearly the same pew in the same chapel, surrounded by a familiar congregation.
But the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted this routine and reset my perspective.
Unable to join others in the chapel, I found myself receiving the sacrament in a new setting—gathered around my dining room table with my small family. Doing something familiar and routine in this new setting brought a fresh perspective and, with that new perspective, renewed meaning.
Although I had participated in the sacrament ordinance hundreds of times in my lifetime, doing it where I ordinarily joined my family for a meal and conversation highlighted the familial undertones of the sacrament in ways I hadn’t appreciated before.
One Sunday in particular, as I knelt and uttered the words, “We ask thee in the name of thy Son, Jesus Christ” (Moroni 4:3), my attention went to my precious four-year-old son sitting close to me. There he sat with his arms folded, listening to the prayer, radiating innocence and goodness.
With this brilliant sight in my mind, I continued to offer the prayer. As I spoke the words, “the body of thy Son,” a question entered my mind. What would it be like to willingly sacrifice this innocent son of mine and submit him to incomprehensible pain and suffering?
In a word, unimaginable.
Pondering this impossible question, I continued with the prayer. The words “take upon them the name of thy Son” brought another question to my mind. God is also a father. How could He sacrifice His Son? As I looked at my other family members, who, like me, desperately needed the sacrament, the simple but profound answer came: divine love (see John 3:16).
It seemed as if the windows of heaven briefly opened to reveal a portion of our Heavenly Father’s pure love—so great a love that He sacrificed His truly innocent, perfect Son for us, His other children.
In view of this sacrifice, no matter the difficulties and inequities of life—including a deadly pandemic, disrupted economies, civil unrest, an unbelieving world, and general uncertainty—how could we seriously doubt His love for us?
Lest we forget, the sacrament serves as a weekly reminder of this deep and enduring love. In routinely considering the unparalleled gift of His Son, we can find comfort and overcome the temptation to doubt the Father’s love or concern for us during challenging times.
Without properly considering the eternal fatherhood of God and His role in Jesus Christ’s Atonement, the sacrament ordinance feels incomplete to me now. It stands as a constant reminder to me of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and expression of Heavenly Father’s love for me.
And it is because of this lesson in love that I will always treasure our at-home sacrament experience.

I began seminary in 2017 in our Pare Ward of the Arue Tahiti Stake. I was in 9th grade in school at the time, and I was eager to be part of this youth group.
During my first year, I woke up before 5 am every weekday to get to seminary on time. I did my readings, and I was very attentive in class. I realized seminary contributed to deepening my relationship with God. Without Him, I would not have been able to successfully pass my school’s National Certificate Exam at the end of year 9.

Maddie watched as Mom ladled raspberry jam into canning jars. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, making the dark red fruit sparkle like rubies in the glass jars.
Mom’s face was also red. She looked tired and hot.
Maddie thought about some of the important jobs her friends’ moms had. One was an accountant. Another was an engineer. Maddie wondered why her mom didn’t have a job like those. She couldn’t help thinking that if she did, Maddie’s family would have more money. Maybe Maddie could even have some new clothes for school.
“That’s done for another year,” Mom said as she placed a lid on the last jar.
“Why do you do all that work?” Maddie asked. “We could buy jam at the store.”
Mom swiped a hand over her forehead and sank into a kitchen chair. “What’s your favorite kind of jam?” she asked.
Maddie didn’t have to think about it. “Raspberry.”
“And Dad’s?”
“Raspberry.” Maddie was beginning to understand.
“I make raspberry jam because you and your brother and your dad like it so much,” Mom said. “It makes me feel happy when I see you pulling out a jar of my jam and knowing that I made it just for you.”
Maddie thought about how Mom helped her whenever Maddie got stuck on a math problem. And how Mom was always interested to hear about how the school day went.
Maddie wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. “Thanks, Mom.”
Mom returned the hug. “For what?”
“For doing the things you do,” Maddie said. “Being a mom is the most important job in the world.”

When the temple was first being built, the Saints thought that at last they had found a place where they could live the gospel and worship in peace. Then, on June 27, 1844, Joseph and Hyrum Smith were murdered in Carthage Jail by an angry mob. Grief-stricken, the members wondered what they would do without Joseph to lead them.
At the time, most of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were in the east on missions. Two days before the murders, Parley P. Pratt, one of the Twelve, was impressed to leave New York and return to Nauvoo. He learned of the martyrdom on his journey home. As he walked across the plains of Illinois, filled with sorrow and wondering how to comfort the members in Nauvoo, he stopped and prayed for help. He wrote, “The Spirit said unto me: … ‘Go and say unto my people in Nauvoo, that they shall continue … to build the House of the Lord which I have commanded them to build in Nauvoo.’”
Because the members carried on so well and the temple was still being built despite the death of the prophet, anti-Mormons increased their persecution of the members and made attempts to drive away the Saints. And so, on September 24, 1845, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles announced that the Saints would leave the following spring. Even though the members knew that they would again be forced to leave their temple behind, they worked harder than ever to finish it. They wanted very much to receive its sacred ordinances before moving west.
Rooms in the temple were dedicated as soon as they were completed so that ordinance work could be performed immediately. The October 1845 general conference was held in the partly finished building. Brigham Young offered the opening prayer, calling the temple “a monument of the saints’ liberality [generosity], fidelity, and faith.” He and Heber C. Kimball began giving endowments to faithful Latter-day Saints on December 10, and so many people wanted to receive them that endowment sessions were continued until three o’clock the next morning.
The Church’s enemies, upon seeing all the activity at the temple, tried to have Brigham Young arrested. On December 23, government officials waited outside the temple to arrest him. Learning that they were there, Brigham prayed for guidance and protection so that he could “live to prove advantageous to the Saints.” Then he saw William Miller, a man his same height, nearby.
Brother Miller agreed to act as a decoy. He wore Brigham’s cloak and climbed into Brigham’s carriage. The officers arrested him and took him to the Mansion House, where the Church members also pretended that he was Brigham Young. It wasn’t till his captors had taken him to Carthage that someone identified him! Meanwhile, Brigham Young and the other Apostles had gone into hiding.
The Brethren endowed as many faithful members as possible before leaving Nauvoo. In January 1846, Brigham Young wrote, “Such has been the anxiety manifested by the Saints to receive the ordinances [of the temple], and such the anxiety on our part to administer to them, that I have given myself up entirely to the work of the Lord in the Temple night and day, not taking more than four hours sleep, upon an average, per day, and going home but once a week.”
On February 3, Church leaders had planned to stop the ordinance work. Brigham Young left the temple to make final preparations to leave for the West the next day, but when he saw a large crowd gathered to receive their endowments, he returned to the temple to serve them. This kept him there another two weeks! More than five thousand Saints received their endowments before heading west.
The Nauvoo Temple was dedicated privately on the night of April 30, 1846. Orson Hyde, one of the Twelve Apostles, dedicated it publicly the next day, even though only a few members were still in Nauvoo to see it, most of the Saints having already started the trek west. By the end of the year, the majestic temple stood unused. Two years after the Saints left Nauvoo, an arsonist set fire to the temple, and in 1850 a tornado destroyed three of the walls. The remaining wall was leveled in 1865 for safety reasons.
Soon after the Saints settled in Utah, they began the construction of the Salt Lake, St. George, Manti, and Logan Temples. The St. George Temple, completed in 1877, was the first temple to be built in the west—and the first temple the Saints were not forced to leave.

Of course, our arms are full, although for the time being the birth mothers’ arms are empty. How shall they embrace—and be embraced—in safety? The answer to that question requires more time than I have available. A partial response comes in the pleas of a three-year-old whom we have taught to pray for her and her sister’s birth mothers. A few months ago she told us: “Mommy loves me. Daddy loves me. Lizzy loves me. Everyone loves me.” Pressing her cheek next to her mother’s, she promised, “I will not break your heart.” Then, with an eye to eternity that sobered us, speaking of her birth mother, she said, “I will not break her heart either.”

I believe in the power of a child’s prayer. I believe in a loving Father’s equity that promises that all arms will be full, if we will wait patiently on the Lord. I know that sometime in eternity our daughters will finish the process of their birth mothers’ healing. These finishings will be intimate restorations.

With only a few weeks left in the school year, one of my best friends wanted to have a party at his house to celebrate the end of school. Knowing I was LDS, he told me there would be no “bad things happening,” so I could attend. I told him I’d be there, but then two hours before the party started, I got a strong impression that I shouldn’t go.
It wasn’t easy, but I followed the feeling and told my friend I couldn’t come anymore for personal reasons. He was somewhat offended. He told me how other Mormons would be going and how I was just scared to go to a party. But I just thanked him for inviting me and said I hoped the night would be fun. Later I discovered that some kids came with alcohol, hookah, and even a “weed brownie.” I was told that I “missed a great night,” and since then, I haven’t been invited to another party like it—all because I followed the Spirit and put God and my standards before popularity. But because of that decision, I’ve been given a gift to see who my true friends are and whom I can trust.

In May of this year I had occasion to visit the recently restored Lincoln Cottage, a house about three miles north of the White House, where Abraham Lincoln lived with his family for five months a year during 1862, 1863, and 1864. Each day he rode, usually on horseback, from the White House to this sanctuary, where he could escape from the hot and muggy weather, from the crowds seeking his personal assistance, and from the gloom of the recent death of his son Willie. He accomplished much important work in this “Cottage,” not the least of which was his drafting of the Emancipation Proclamation.

Late one hot summer evening in 1862, Lincoln was at home in the Cottage trying to calm his mind on the eve of a significant Civil War battle about to be fought on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. He was also relieved to be momentarily free of an especially persistent woman who had called on him in the White House that day seeking a promotion for her husband.

Nevertheless, late that evening another private citizen, having been aided in finding the president by a Treasury Department employee, was admitted to see Mr. Lincoln. His story was poignant and wrenching. A Union officer from New Hampshire had been wounded in recent fighting. The officer’s wife and her friend had both made the journey from New Hampshire to locate the wounded soldier and help him recover. As they journeyed by boat back to Washington, the boat collided with another boat at night and 73 passengers drowned, including both ladies. The wounded soldier barely escaped with his life.

The president’s visitor had returned to Washington to locate and return the bodies of these ladies to New Hampshire. He sought access to the area of the disaster, which had been closed because of the pending battle. The Secretary of War had gruffly refused his request, so he was now before the president seeking intervention:

Without making any interruptions, Lincoln listened to the [visitor’s] long and tragic story. At the end, however, . . . instead of displaying his legendary generosity, Lincoln reportedly said, “Am I to have no rest? Is there no hour or spot when or where I may escape this constant call? Why do you follow me out here with such business as this? Why do you not go to the War-office, where they have charge of all this matter of papers and transportation?” The embarrassed [visitor] tried to argue his case with the exhausted president, but to no avail. . . . [He was] dismissed curtly and sent back to the city without any relief.

Lincoln later appeared at the visitor’s hotel apologizing. He confessed, “I was a brute last night.”

Another version of the story reports:

[The president said:] “I fear, Sir, that my conduct has been such as to make it appear that I had forgotten my humanity.” . . .
. . . The two men sat down and talked as familiarly as old friends. Great tears rolled down the President’s careworn face as he heard the story of the shipwreck. . . .
. . . He then wrote a mandatory order to [the Secretary of War], requiring him to furnish a pass, transportation to the scene of the disaster, and all necessary assistance to find the bodies. . . .
. . . The result was that after cruising along the shore in the vicinity of the wreck, and after much inquiry among the inhabitants, the place where the bodies washed ashore and the place of interment were discovered, and they were brought home to their native New-Hampshire.

“When the children awoke on Christmas morning in 1849, not a doll was to be found in all the land, no, not even a stick of candy, or an apple was found in the cabins. But the children and their parents were happy for all that. They were glad that they still had a little to eat, and prospects before them in their new homes were beginning to grow brighter every day. But, if there were no dolls or toys for the children, the fathers and mothers could not forget Christmas, and before the day was over they all had a jolly time.
“In the evening they met at the cabin of John Rowberry. This was the house where the first meetings were held. There they had an old fashioned dance to wind up the day, and it was the merriest crowd that ever met in a Christmas gathering. … But the great drawback was music. Not an instrument of any kind was to be found. Cyrus Call was a very good whistler and he whistled tunes while the merry pioneers danced.”

Sarah Tolman, in Kate B. Carter, comp., Treasures of Pioneer Heritage, 6 vols. (1952–57), 4:197–98.

Our baseball team had seven boys and two girls, and we called ourselves the Sonoma Lions. During the summer months, we practiced and played three or four times a week in a big vacant lot after our chores were done. It was just for fun—at first.
Then one day my brother Ramie told me there was another team called the Crows a few streets away from ours. I rode my bike to their team captain’s house and asked him if the Crows would like to play with us at the end of summer.
Two days later, he rode his bike to my house and said his team would like to play against ours—and that the Crows would beat us.
“Oh yeah?” I said. “We’ll see about that!”
We practiced hard, determined to beat the Crows. The end of summer was getting closer, and we were getting excited. And then along came Forrester.
Forrester was 10, and he had some mental challenges. His family had just moved into the neighborhood.
Forrester showed up one day while our team was practicing. He was skinny and just kind of stood there, too shy to ask if he could be on our team. Nobody wanted him to ask, especially me. We didn’t need him to help us beat the Crows, and we were afraid he would make us lose.
I guess he could tell we didn’t want him to be a part of our group. He lowered his head and stood there looking at the ground, kicking at a little rock. Then he slowly turned and started walking away.
A thought came into my mind: “What would Jesus do?”
I realized the Holy Ghost had told me this because the words had come from somewhere deep inside me.
When I looked at Ramie and the other team members, I could tell they felt like I did—awful. So I hurried and caught up with Forrester and asked him to come back and play with us.
I saw a smile come into his eyes, and he looked surprised and happy at the same time.
At the big game between our team and the Crows we all played hard, including Forrester.
We lost the game, 12 to 10. But that was OK. Forrester was a good player and a good sport. He even scored one of our runs. When he ran across home plate, I was cheering and jumping up and down.
Mom and Dad said Heavenly Father cheers for us when we make good choices. And I know that inviting Forrester to join the Sonoma Lions was a good choice because it made me feel warm all over, just like the quilt Mom made me does on cold winter nights.

At the end of 2013, two young men wearing white shirts and ties began to visit my sister twice a week. I knew right away they were from a church. For me, being part of a church wasn’t in my plans, so I decided not to talk to them.
With each of their visits, I made sure not to be home when they arrived. Something in particular, however, caught my attention. They always carried a blue book. I had never seen it before, and it seemed strange to me.
One day in the living room, my sister began telling me about the book. Suddenly, the two young men arrived. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hide from them. They saw us with the blue book—the Book of Mormon—and started asking what I knew about Jesus Christ.
As I listened to the missionaries from that day on, I was impressed by how they connected their teachings to the Book of Mormon. As a result, the blue book became less strange to me.
I still had serious doubts about it, but I started reading it. I came to understand that the Book of Mormon was not a substitute for the Bible but was desirable to change my life and bring me closer to Jesus Christ. I learned that the Book of Mormon is centered on the Savior. Its teachings helped me know who He is and who Heavenly Father is.
The Book of Mormon soon helped me become a better person, a true disciple of Jesus Christ. It also helped me improve my attitude as I faced daily challenges. From my experience studying it, I know it helps people come unto Christ and live the gospel (see Moroni 10:32). It encourages us to follow Christ’s teachings and apply them in our daily life. It gives us the knowledge that we are sons and daughters of God. It brings peace.
After several weeks of meeting with the missionaries and reading the Book of Mormon, I was baptized. I bear my testimony with all my heart that the Book of Mormon is true and that reading it brings hope and light in the darkest moments, helping us feel the Lord’s love and protection. I am grateful to have the Book of Mormon in my life.

Andy Mair has heard many of the stories about sacrifices made in building the first Nauvoo Temple. He knows about the men and boys who cut stone by hand, hauled heavy loads with just horses and mules, went without good food and clothing, and spent every minute they could building a beautiful House of the Lord.
Andy has plenty to eat and wear and because he’s only 14 he’s not really allowed to work on the temple site. But Andy has made sacrifices. He willingly left his friends and home to come with his family to Nauvoo where his father would oversee the reconstruction of the Nauvoo Temple. “I am not sorry that I came,” says Andy. “I have been able to learn a lot more about the history of the Church and Joseph Smith. I can say that I have walked and lived where the Prophet Joseph and the early leaders of the Church did. As I see the temple workers, I notice that they all have shoes and shirts. They also have modern equipment like cranes, lifts, cement trucks, dump trucks, tractors, and power tools. I try to imagine how people in the 1840s built such a huge building without these things.”
Also, during the construction of the temple, Andy has seen what kind of man his dad is. “It means a lot to me to have my dad be able to oversee the construction of this temple, because I know I am one of a few young men who is able to participate so closely in such an historic event. My dad is a great example to me of hard work and dedication.”
Andy and his new friends in Nauvoo keep track of the reconstruction. One friend, Tally Smith, says, “It’s special to drive by and notice more stone going up or another window in place.”
Amanda Smith also has loved watching the temple go up. “It’s amazing to have a temple right up the road—a temple that’s really a part of your life because you’ve watched it and seen the changes.”
One unique event that took place at the start of the construction was the laying of all four cornerstones. For most temples built today the cornerstone laying is completed as the building is dedicated, but in rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple, the sequence of events from the nineteenth century was duplicated as much as possible.
On April 6, 1841, the members of the Church in Nauvoo gathered at the temple site for the laying of all four cornerstones. Under the Prophet Joseph’s instructions, each cornerstone was moved into place under the direction of the presidents of the various quorums of the priesthood. In those days, the Aaronic Priesthood quorum presidents were all grown men.
But on November 5, 2000, the quorum presidents of the Aaronic Priesthood—representing the deacons and teachers—were Jared Brown, 13, and Hans Smith, 15, both from the Nauvoo Illinois First Ward. They were surprised and honored to be asked to participate in the cornerstone laying.
“I had always thought it would be cool if the Nauvoo Temple were rebuilt,” says Hans. “Now it is happening, and I am going to be here to see it.
“One evening, my stake president, Durell Nelson, came over to my house and told me there was going to be a special cornerstone ceremony. He asked me if I would be interested in being part of this historic event since I was the teachers quorum president of the Nauvoo Ward, and the original teachers quorum president had helped at the original cornerstone ceremony. Wow!”
On the day of the ceremony, Hans was right there with President Gordon B. Hinckley and Bishop H. David Burton, the Presiding Bishop of the Church. Hans says, “I was humbled to represent teachers all over the world at this event. Because I have cerebral palsy, I needed help to scoop in the mortar and was grateful to have Bishop Burton help me. I was grateful that those in charge didn’t let my handicap stand in the way of my participating in this great event.”
As deacons quorum president, Jared also participated. “I felt really blessed because there are so many other young men who would have loved this opportunity. It was probably the best experience of my life. I got to meet the prophet. I also got to keep the trowel I used. It’s something I can always remember and someday tell my children.”

I still remember vividly some of the long flights I made during my professional life as an airline captain.
In one of them, I would take off in Germany at 11:00 a.m. and touch down in California at 1:00 p.m. on the same day. Comparing the local departure and arrival times, it might appear that a flight across the Atlantic Ocean and the North American continent took only two hours. The Boeing 747 was fast, but not that fast! In reality, it took us about 11 hours, depending on wind, to travel the 5,600 miles (9,000 km).
Because we were flying west, the sun never set during our flight. We enjoyed broad daylight all the way from Germany to California.
Returning to Germany, however, was a totally different story. Even when we took off in the early afternoon, as we flew east, the sunset came more quickly than it normally would, and before we knew it, night was upon us.
During these long flights, my soul was often filled with awe as I pondered the beauty of this earth and the order of God’s creation. Even while flying at night, in complete darkness, I knew with certainty that the sun would rise again, that bright light would return and bring warmth and life to a new day before our journey’s end. The circumstances of my flight might have made it seem like the sun was setting more slowly or more quickly, but I knew that the sun remained constant, steadfast, and reliable in the heavens.

Several years ago, President Gordon B. Hinckley attended a college football game. He was there to announce that the stadium would be named after the team’s longtime, beloved coach, who was about to retire. The team desperately wanted to win the game to honor their coach. President Hinckley was invited to visit the locker room and share some encouraging words. Inspired by his words, that team on that day went on to win that game and ended the season with a winning record.

Soren was also his father’s student in the art of living. When Knud Edsberg joined the Church in 1961, he invited his son to join him in his newly discovered faith. Sixteen-year-old Soren wasn’t particularly interested in religion at the time. But after his father told him how much it meant to him, Soren agreed to be baptized. “I had always loved my father and respected him,” he explains. “Whenever he asked me to do something, I usually did it.”

As a new member of the Church, Soren knew little about the Church or its teachings. For the first month, he did not even attend church meetings. Finally, feeling obligated to learn what the gospel was about, he read a pamphlet about the Book of Mormon. From that small pamphlet he gained a testimony that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God. That realization forever changed the course of Soren Edsberg’s life.

For one thing, he became devoted to serving the Lord. Just a few weeks after his conversion to the Book of Mormon, he was called to be a regular speaker in missionary meetings. Since then, he has served as a branch president, mission public relations director, high councilor, and Young Men president.

Another event that changed his life occurred in his Copenhagen (Denmark) branch when he met his wife, Johnna—a convert to the Church and a piano student at the Danish Royal Academy of Music. The Edsbergs were sealed in the Swiss Temple and have continued a life of Church service. Soren is now mission leader and Johnna is Young Women president in the Slagelse (Denmark) Branch. The Edsbergs have seven children, ranging in age from three to seventeen. In a country where families average one or two children, you can see the Edsbergs’s commitment to family values by their large family.

One of the most obvious changes in Soren Edsberg’s life involves his artistic course. “Of course, when you learn the gospel, it becomes your whole life,” says Soren, now forty. Now, instead of seeing artistic success as an end in itself, he sees his art as a means of serving the Lord and building the kingdom.

His desire to serve through his art has even transformed his painting style. “I thought about how important it is to be a missionary in everything we do,” Soren recalls. “I felt that if I wanted to do missionary work, I had to paint in a way that would communicate with people today.” Because in Europe realistic painting was not well accepted, he began to paint in an impressionistic style. Later, he turned to abstract art, always trying to make his paintings express positive values and gospel truths.

Brother Edsberg’s work has been exhibited by the Association of National Art in the Charlottenborg Palace, home of the Danish Royal Academy of National Arts. His paintings have hung in several museums in Europe, where his work has been a popular success. But he judges his work by its ability to influence the one who looks at it for good, not by its ability to sell.

He tells about one of his series of abstract paintings that was inspired directly by the scriptures and that had a scriptural “text” inscribed either on the back or below the painting. “My barber told me that he had seen them in a public show,” he recalls delightedly. “Then he quoted a scripture on one of the paintings word for word. It had made an impression on him, even though he didn’t believe in God.”

Soren Edsberg’s personality is warm and engaging, with just a hint of reserve. He becomes enthusiastic when he describes his latest work. It is a series of abstract paintings titled The Course of Life. It was inspired by an aerial view of the earth—looking down at people traveling on freeways and streets, all on various courses. The artist wants people to consider where their course is taking them. “Many times we have a goal,” he explains, “but without realizing we are on a course that is taking us away from that goal. I want people to think in an eternal way.”

The president of the International Association of Art Critics in Geneva, Switzerland, Alexandre Cirici Pellecier, has said that Edsberg’s Course of Life paintings, though truly abstract, are paintings with a positive message that is easy for the viewer to understand. Since Soren’s major goal is to be a missionary, this is high praise.

And missionary opportunities in Denmark—where religion plays little role in most lives—are not always easy to come by. “If you are a member of any ‘sect,’ you are seen either as not very intelligent, or as a weak person who needs something to hold onto, or as a crook who is trying to gain something from it,” says Soren. Even though missionary work can be difficult in such a setting, Soren has had some good experiences—the one closest to his heart in his own family.

Although three of the Knud Edsberg family—Knud, Soren, and Soren’s sister, Birgitte—were members of the Church, their wife and mother, Kirsten Edsberg, remained firmly Lutheran. For years, the family and church leaders had tried to convert her. Finally, Knud Edsberg became discouraged. “One morning my father came to my house. He stood in the doorway crying because he was so sad.”

Soren felt the Spirit come to him. He put his arms around his father and said, “Mother will be a member now. And when I say ‘now,’ I don’t mean in a year or two. I mean now.” After his father had left, Soren went to see his mother. “After I had talked to her for about ten minutes, she said, ‘I would like to be baptized now.’” Father, mother, and son wept together for joy.

A short time after her baptism, Kirsten Edsberg got cancer. As the disease progressed, Soren and his sister became disturbed. Their mother’s patriarchal blessing promised that she would live to fulfill her life’s mission. But she had not yet had her children sealed to her, nor had she had opportunities for church service.

When at last the doctors felt that she would die within days and had withdrawn all medicine except for pain killers, the elder Brother Edsberg called on Soren to give his mother another blessing. After several days of fasting and praying, says Soren, “I felt I had permission to tell the disease to obey the priesthood and to leave so my mother would be able to complete her mission in this life.” Kirsten Edsberg recovered and was able to go to the Swiss Temple to be sealed to her family. She was also able to serve as a Primary teacher. Then, a year after her healing, she became ill again and passed away.

With such experiences, Soren Edsberg’s priorities have become firm: “First, I have my personal commitment to my Heavenly Father. Second, I have my family. Third, I have my church calling. Fourth, I have my job.”

Soren does not consider that his job as an artist puts him in any special category. He feels that there can be artists in any work. “You can do any job poorly. You can do it well. You can do it very well. Or you can do it with genius, and at that level, you start to produce art. That means you can be an artist in whatever kind of work you do,” he explains.

This striving for excellence is something which Brother Edsberg tries to do in his church work. The Edsberg family home—a lovely four-hundred-year-old castle about eighty kilometers from Copenhagen—is often the site of activities for youth of the Slagelse Branch and Copenhagen Stake. Recently, the Edsbergs hosted fifty or so young people overnight at their home. With strong worldly influences in Danish schools, as well as society in general, Brother Edsberg feels that church youth activities need to be as fun and interesting as possible.

The Edsbergs also feel strongly about keeping their own children close to them. Although Brother Edsberg travels quite a bit, his studio is in his home. Since April 1986, one wing of the home has also been a public gallery, where works of many artists are on display. He is planning an exhibition of the works of Utah artists, particularly Latter-day Saints.

Helping their children stay close to the gospel is a continuing challenge. “I don’t think anyone can appreciate how difficult it is to raise children in Denmark,” says Brother Edsberg. “You have to teach them to make the gospel part of everything they do. You have to build their faith and testimony very strongly.” He emphasizes that parents cannot hope to fulfill such a responsibility unless they have the Spirit in their own lives to help them teach and influence their children.

As Soren Edsberg looks to the future, he speaks of artistic goals. He wants to explore his Courses of Life theme in larger mural form and also use such materials as marble, glass, and crystal. He anticipates seeing his children serve missions. In all, he is heading toward his eternal goal and steadily following the course that will take him there.