Gospel Story Finder

My father-in-law was a real inspiration to me. He was the 12th of 13 children of a very poor immigrant family from Switzerland. After he had finished elementary school, he, like many others in his time, was encouraged to drop out of school and learn a trade. Then one day he met Mr. Hicks, the new school teacher. Mr. Hicks asked, “Albert, are you coming to school this year?” Albert explained that he was not planning to. Mr. Hicks said, “Well, why don’t you come for three or four days and see how you like it?”
Albert came, and his future life was dramatically changed for the better. He said this new teacher didn’t just answer the questions. Instead he would write on the chalkboard the titles of the books where they could find the answers. A thirst for learning developed in Albert that was never quenched.
He was a hard-working farmer, providing for a large family. But when I came to know him, I hardly remember his being in the house without a book in his work-worn hands. He would circle words he didn’t know and write their definitions in the margins. He was a real student of history and the doctrine of the Church. Although he never had the opportunity to attend school beyond the eighth grade, he read much more than most college graduates. He not only learned to read; he read.

Fourth, faith. It has always been a source of happiness to my wife and me when one of our children has shown faith by asking for a blessing of health or of comfort and counsel. The occasions have been numerous, but the one that comes to mind is when one of our children was suffering from a bad earache and was very upset. I remember that after I had given her a blessing she settled down and went to sleep and experienced no further pain. It is a wonderful thing that when the Lord restored the fulness of the gospel, he made it possible for fathers to bless their families in so many ways.

Other experiences may not be so dramatic but are nevertheless real and heartwarming. I recall an elderly couple whose frame home, situated at the end of a dirt lane, had not seen a coat of paint for too many years. These were neat and tidy people; they were concerned about the appearance of their small house. In a moment of inspiration I called, not upon the elders quorum or upon volunteers to wield paint brushes, but rather, following the welfare handbook, upon the family members who lived in other areas. Four sons-in-law and four daughters took brushes in hand and participated in the project. The paint had been provided by a dealer located in our area. The result was a transformation not only of the house but of the family. The children determined how they might best help mother and dad in their old age. They did so voluntarily and with gladness of heart. A house was painted, a family united, and respect preserved.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland told of a young man who was the brunt of his peers’ teasing during his school years. Some years later he moved away, joined the military, received an education, and became active in the Church. This period of his life was marked with wonderfully successful experiences.
After several years he returned to his hometown. However, the people refused to acknowledge his growth and improvement. To them, he was still just old “so-and-so,” and they treated him that way. Eventually, this good man faded away to a shadow of his former successful self without being able to use his marvelously developed talents to bless those who derided and rejected him once again. What a loss, both for him and the community!

My parents have served in the temple for more than 30 years—Dad as a sealer, Mom as an ordinance worker. They also served five full-time missions together—in Riverside, California; Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia; Nairobi, Kenya; the Nauvoo Illinois Temple; and the Monterrey Mexico Temple. In Mexico they worked hard to learn a new language, which wasn’t easy at 80 years of age. But they sought to do the will of the Lord rather than to pursue their own desires in life.

How can we develop a good attitude of cooperation? One wise stake president counseled priesthood and Relief Society leaders to determine their actions by asking, “What would the Savior do?” rather than “What has been done before?” With this idea in mind, ward leaders examined their “policies” in working together. Several ward “traditions” came under examination—the first, when the ward budget was presented for approval to the men in priesthood meeting, but not to the women in Relief Society.
“Would the Savior do that?” priesthood leaders wondered. They decided that he wouldn’t, and then they consulted the General Handbook of Instructions, which indicates that proposed budgets should be discussed with all ward members in a special meeting. That tradition was changed, and the sisters in the ward are much more supportive of ward activities now that they are included in the planning.

She studied elementary education at Brigham Young University and minored in Spanish. During a class trip to Mexico, she met Jorge Dennis, and the two began corresponding.
When he moved to Salt Lake City a year later to study English, they began dating. Within a few months, they were engaged. They married in the Salt Lake Temple on September 4, 1980. They have four children and nine grandchildren. They live in Bountiful, Utah.

Don Dewey, a nonmember, was one of Ken’s friends stationed aboard a sister minesweeper. He wanted to discover the inconsistencies in the Church’s doctrine so that he could point out to Ken the error of his decision to be baptized. So when the three men returned from sea, Don decided to join Willis and Ken at sacrament meeting in Charleston.

But Don never did find the inconsistencies he sought. Instead, after months of intensive study, he also chose to become a member of the Church.

I decided to enroll in early-morning seminary, and I was eager to learn. Every morning I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to get ready for school, and then I drove to the seminary building. I was amazed at how much I enjoyed early-morning seminary.
Halfway into my early-morning seminary experience, I grew tired of my usual music collection and decided to turn on the radio. I didn’t listen to the radio often, so I turned the station to a popular one that I knew my friends listened to. The station streamed fast-paced, popular music that I recognized from school dances. I decided it couldn’t be too bad, and I left it there for weeks. I wasn’t really listening to the music—it was mostly just background music while I focused on driving and thought about school. If I ever heard a bad word, I immediately turned the volume down and waited until the song was over before turning the volume back up and listening to a different song.
A gradual change started happening in me. I found that I didn’t want to go to Mutual activities and struggled to focus in church. I became increasingly irritated with my family. I didn’t want to go home, and I argued with my parents over things that didn’t really matter. I was frequently in a bad mood and I had no idea why.
One morning I was running late, and when I started my car, the radio blared with a popular song streaming through the speakers. I was getting tired of the song, so I started rummaging through my music collection, looking for music that I hadn’t listened to in a while. I had trouble finding something, and I kept thinking, “Just leave it, you’re already going to be late!” Still, I kept looking and settled on the soundtrack of a fun animated movie I enjoyed.
My mood changed. For one week I left that soundtrack playing in my car, and my mood immediately took a turn for the better. I focused on church more, eager to feel the Spirit and become closer to my Heavenly Father. Then one day, as I drove to seminary, I thought about what could have been the cause of my sudden sour mood and what had fixed it. I offered a prayer in my heart for the answer so I could prevent it from happening again.
Then it hit me: even though I hadn’t been listening to the messages of the lyrics, the songs played on the radio station I’d been listening to didn’t have an uplifting spirit to them. Even when the message wasn’t bad, the sound of the music was dark. The music, which I’d only left on for background music, had started affecting my spirit, without my even realizing it.
I’m not saying all popular music is bad, but I learned that day that it isn’t just the lyrics we need to focus on when choosing good music but also the feel of the music as well. I started asking, “If I just listen to the sound of it, how does it make me feel?” I am so grateful to my Heavenly Father for teaching me this lesson. Music is a very powerful thing. Wholesome, spiritual music can bring us almost as close to our Heavenly Father as prayer does, but music that doesn’t possess these qualities can drive us dangerously far away from Him. I love music, but I love my Heavenly Father more, and I’m grateful He has provided music that brings us closer to Him.

During the time my parents were serving in the Arizona Holbrook Mission, I joined them for a few days at Christmastime. Christmas morning we delivered treats and greetings to some of the families with whom they worked. As I stood in the center of one of the hogans surveying the surroundings and the people, I was overwhelmed with a sense of my richness in terms of material possessions and awed by the sense of peace, happiness, and contentment that radiated from the faces of the extended-family members who were present. “Could I be this content in these circumstances?” I asked myself. “What did I do to deserve what I have? What are my responsibilities? What are my values? What really matters?”

Am I rich? The answer depends on the comparative basis I choose to use—but in my heart I know that I have enough of this world’s material blessings and that I will be accountable for my use of them. Are you rich? Do you have enough and to spare? How can that determination be made? When we use more than our share of the earth’s resources, are we rich or are we greedy, or are we both rich and greedy? Are we greedy in our demands? Are we accountable?

It all began as a challenge issued by the Young Women to the Young Men. The event was collecting wood as a service project for the widows and needy of the Kanab Second Ward, Kanab Utah Stake. The Laurels claimed that the Young Women could haul more wood than the Young Men. The challenge was accepted, and rules and a date were set for what was dubbed the Wood Run.

The rules stated that each team could have as many class members, friends, advisers, or parents as they could muster, but each team could use only three chain saws at any given time. The winner would be the team that could return to the designated place first with four cords of wood.

On the appointed day, the two teams headed for the Kaibab Mountain. The Young Women arrived at the finish line with their four cords of firewood. Finding no Young Men or loaded wood in sight, they returned to their cutting area and began filling other trucks and trailers with wood. About 15 minutes later, the Young Men showed up, fully expecting to be the undisputed champions. Instead they found the Young Women’s wood at the finish line. After the shock wore off, the losing team joined in the spirit of the service project and helped the winners finish filling every available truck and trailer with wood. The group cut 16 cords of firewood to be used as winter fuel by those in need in their ward.

As one young man said, “We provided a much needed service, and we had a great time doing it.”

For example, for years, my mother made sack lunches for myself and my five sisters. I’m not sure that she ever saw this as a sacred act; I doubt that the five thousandth sandwich made a lasting impression. But as I have looked back on my childhood, I recognize this as a consistent sacrifice in that my mother was taking a daily ordinary action that she made sacred by trying to make each day a little better for her children. And now, I have tried to carry on that tradition by preparing lunches for my own children.

Reader B: An ancient Arabian fable tells the story of a traveler who met the great and deadly Plague going into the city of Cairo, Egypt. Their conversation went thus:
Reader 5: “Oh, Mighty Plague, bringer of disease, why do you go into Cairo?”
Reader B: The Plague answered with wind and destruction in its voice:
Reader D: “I come to kill 3,000 people. I come to take 3,000 lives.”
Reader B: Weeks passed. Again the traveler met the Plague on his return journey and said:
Reader 5: “Oh, Plague, you told me you would kill 3,000, yet you killed 30,000—people 30,000 instead.”
Reader B: And the Plague answered back:
Reader D: “No. I killed but 3,000. The rest died of fright.”

On the road to Carthage the Prophet made some revelatory expressions that are not part of the official history. Isaac Haight recorded that at one point Joseph was so weighed down that he turned to Hyrum and said, “Brother Hyrum, let us go back to Nauvoo, and all die together.” Hyrum urged him on. When they were several miles out from Nauvoo he instructed—and that’s the only way he could get them to do so—that many who had ridden that far with him turn around and go back. John Butler recorded: “We were all willing to live or die with them. Brother Joseph spoke to us all and told us that he was like a lamb led to the slaughter. He also spoke to Brother Hyrum and wished him to return home with us. We begged him to let us stay with him and die with him, if necessary, but he said, no, we were to return to our home, and Brother Hyrum said that he would stay with Brother Joseph. For my part, I felt that something great was going to transpire. He blessed us and told us to go. We bade them farewell, and started. We had twenty miles to ride, and we went the whole distance without uttering one word. All were dumb and still, and all felt the Spirit, as I did myself. I cannot express my feelings at that time, for they overpowered me.” He added, “As I turned and as we rode away I felt as I suppose the ancient disciples of Christ felt when he said, ‘I must be crucified.’”

“[Once] I stayed in the home of my niece and her family. That evening before the children went to bed, we had a short family home evening and a scripture story. Their father told about the family of Lehi and how he taught his children that they must hold fast to the iron rod, which is the word of God. Holding fast to the iron rod would keep them safe and lead them to joy and happiness. If they should let go of the iron rod, there was danger of drowning in the river of dirty water.
“To demonstrate this to the children, their mother became the ‘iron rod’ that they must cling to, and their father played the role of the devil, trying to pull the children away from safety and happiness. The children loved the story and learned how important it is to hold fast to the iron rod. After the scripture story it was time for family prayer. …
“Scriptures, family home evening, and family prayer will strengthen families. We need to take every opportunity to strengthen families and support one another to stay on the right path.”1

In February 1959, Elder Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited Chile and stressed the need for developing local leadership. One of the first local leaders was Carlos Cifuentes, who was a counselor to the mission president, Robert Burton. Elder Julio Jaramillo, who later became an Area Seventy and a temple president, related this experience: “I received my first impression of Brother Cifuentes when I was invited to a priesthood meeting after my baptism. When the meeting began, he came up to the pulpit and the only thing I saw was his dirty, black fingernails. I thought, ‘How can this man be conducting a meeting alongside the mission president if he has dirty hands?’ That was until he began to speak and I forgot everything else when I felt his spirit. With simple words he delivered profound concepts to us. He was a heavy machinery mechanic and on Saturdays he worked late, then would clean his hands, but with the few means available at his shop was unable to remove all the grease. Then and there I learned to not judge people by appearances but rather to value them for what they really are.”4

That was not the end of the Lord’s blessings to me. At the end of their senior year, all dental students have to take practical tests—performing procedures on patients while professors watch and grade their performance. If you don’t do well on these practical tests, you don’t graduate. In the early winter of my senior year, I slipped on a patch of ice and broke my right arm. Immediately I felt grateful that it was only January, assuming the cast would come off in six weeks. But I was informed I had broken the scaphoid in my wrist, one of the most difficult bones to heal. I would be in a cast for six months. In despair, I realized I couldn’t work on patients with a cast on my right arm.
I asked for a priesthood blessing. In that blessing I was told not to fear, all would be well. After some weeks I discovered that my fingers were perfectly agile, even with the cast on. When I arrived at the testing area, the professors shook their heads, insisting there was no possibility I could perform the necessary procedures. I asked them to let me try, and if they were not satisfied I would withdraw. Each patient looked surprised upon seeing my cast, but I was able to perform the procedures to the complete approval of the examining professors. I graduated in the top of my class.

As we listen to and act on spiritual promptings to serve others, we can also be a vehicle for the Lord to do His work. I received a powerful reminder of this a few years ago. It was the Fourth of July, and my family chose a random spot on Main Street to watch the parade in Rexburg. As the parade ended and we prepared to leave, a beautiful Asian lady turned around and saw me. She had been sitting in front of me for over two hours. The moment our eyes met, she exclaimed with utter amazement, “Sister Mo, I’ve been looking for you for over 20 years. You taught me the gospel!”

She said her name was Sister Lee, and she lived in an area where I had served as a missionary so long ago. I tried so hard to remember her, but I got absolutely nothing. After our short visit on the street corner, I accepted a dinner invitation at her son’s home that weekend. At our second reunion, her son reminded me that I made him a binder full of pictures to study the gospel when he was nine. Suddenly I remembered who they were, and I couldn’t believe the transformation that this family had gone through since joining the Church. After Sister Lee’s baptism, her two sons grew up in the Church; both served missions and married in the temple. What a sweet reunion that was, and like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, we “did rejoice exceedingly to see [each other]; and what added more to [our] joy, [we] were still [brothers and sisters] in the Lord.” [8] My experience is not unique—we witnessed another heartfelt reunion between Brother Forest Gahn and his missionary three weeks ago at this pulpit. It turned out that Sister Lee had visited Rexburg before, but this would be her last visit, because her son was graduating that month. This astounding reunion is a small token of our caring Heavenly Father’s love for His children. Sister Lee had been longing to meet me, but I needed it as much as she did.

This story is one of my favorites. It is by the Noble prize winning author Isaac Beshiva Singer. Isaac Beshiva Singer is a wonderful, spiritually insightful Jewish writer who sets many of his stories in 17th and 18th century Poland among the orthodox Jews. His stories usually explore the problem of maintaining faith in a pervasively secular world. In this particular story entitled “Joy” he tells of a very devote Rabbi who through a series of terrible Job-like events loses all that he truly loves – all of his children. It is reported that when the Rabbi’s youngest daughter dies he is so shattered by her loss that he can not even follow her Hearst to her grave. These losses challenge and overwhelm him and the unimaginable happens, he loses his faith. His great learning offers no answers as to why these things have happened. Even though his faith is shaken, remarkably the Rabbi does not curse God or his circumstance, but he is humble and filled with piety. Piety is an important word in this story and means the a desire to do the things that one knows are right and good. For example the Rabbi continues to read the Torah even though he concedes that at times he feels he understands less and less. He continues to go to the ritual bath. He observes all of the commandments, and rituals and he becomes even more devoted to relieving human suffering by giving to the poor including selling all that he has – for this many of his erstwhile followers consider him to be a fool. Yet he persists in doing all of these things because, he reports, these are things that he can understand.
Near the end of his life his youngest daughter appears to him to bring him home, and in an instant all is made clear and his faith is restored. But before he dies he is permitted to spend one more holiday with his people. At this last festival he is described as celebrating it with more passion and more devotion than he had ever celebrated before. As part of the celebration there is an important scene where the Rabbi explains how his faith was restored. In this scene it describes the Jewish custom of the Rabbi commenting on a scripture or explaining the meaning of some obscure verse. I would like to read to you this section of the story:
The rabbi took up the question of why the moon is obscured on Rosh Hashannah. The answer is that on Rosh Hashannah one prays for life, and life mean free choice, and freedom is Mystery. If one knew the truth how could there be freedom? If hell and paradise were in the middle of the marketplace, everyone would be a saint. Of all the blessings bestowed on man the greatest lies in the fact that God’s face is forever hidden from him. Men are the children of the Highest, and the Almighty plays hide and seek with them. He hides His face and the children seek him while they have faith that he exists. But what if, God forbid, one loses faith? The wicked live on denials; denial in themselves are also a faith in evildoing, and from it one can draw strength for the body. But if the pious man loses his faith, the truth is shown to him and he is recalled. This is the meaning of the words, ‘When a man dies in a tent:’ when the pious man falls from his rank and becomes like the wicked, without . . . shelter, then a light shines from above, and all doubt ceases. . .”[18]
Because the Rabbi was pious, that is, he refused to abandon the protective trappings afforded by the rituals and practices of his religion and continued to do all of the things that he could, he stayed where he could be found, he was protected from the wilderness of unbelief and he was redeemed.

I saw signs that I was attracted to other women when I was quite young, but I tried to push those feelings away for years.
A few summers ago, I developed feelings for a woman who is also gay. This was something that I had never experienced before, and I spent weeks praying to know what God wanted me to do about this relationship.
With everything I’ve been taught about the gospel, God’s will probably should have been obvious to me, but because of my feelings, it wasn’t. My feelings for this woman were real, powerful, and so important to me.
I was in turmoil for weeks. I expected the answer to my prayers to be obvious. But instead, I felt very distinctly that Heavenly Father was inviting me to use my agency to decide to follow Him.
For years, I had blamed God for all that was missing in my life—for everything I seemingly couldn’t do. I felt like a martyr as I kept His commandments, like I was meant to suffer alone through mortality. But as I grappled with my feelings for this woman, I eventually realized that I have always had the power to choose how to live my life—agency is one of Heavenly Father’s most powerful gifts to us.
I truly loved and cared for this woman. But those feelings didn’t weigh as much as my teaspoon of faith in the truth that Heavenly Father wanted me to choose a different path.
And it was that small, imperfect teaspoon of faith that enabled me to choose Christ.
I was devastated after I made my decision to end this relationship, and frankly, I am still healing from the heartbreak. But looking back, and after many moments of pondering and prayer, I’ve realized that Heavenly Father would have loved me whether I chose to keep my covenants or pursue a same-sex relationship. But because I chose to keep my covenants, He has been able to love and bless me.
As I have deepened my faith and commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ, mountains in my life are being moved, one pebble at a time, just as President Nelson promised:
My family relationships have deepened and are full of honesty, vulnerability, compassion, and trust.
My negative self-image is improving one day at a time.
My ability to love others, love myself, and feel loved is being augmented daily.
My love of the gospel has increased.
My eyes have been opened to how much Heavenly Father wants to bless me each day.
I don’t know what to expect about my attraction to women. I don’t know if it will change or what is in store for me in that experience. But I truly believe that as I embrace the fulness of the gospel, I will be given the opportunity to marry a man whom I love in the temple one day. That is a desire I have for my future. Right now, marriage still seems scary, but with faith in Christ, I am preparing for this mountain to be moved. I know that as I keep my covenants, Heavenly Father will pave my path with wonderful experiences.