Gospel Story Finder

“When I was younger, my family moved across the country. With the help of others, we spent a day loading everything into a large trailer that my dad was going to pull behind our car. The morning we were supposed to leave, I was surprised to wake up and learn our move was delayed by a few days. My father had awoken in the middle of the night with a strong feeling that he was not to pull the trailer. Rather than rationalize away the impression, my dad followed the prompting and delayed our move. Instead, he hired a professional mover who put all of our belongings into one of their trucks.

“When we finally left, we encountered strong winds and overturned trucks and trailers along the way. Our family was grateful for our safety. Without words, my father taught me to have the courage to follow promptings from the Sprit, even when those promptings are inconvenient, even when they might not make sense. I have never forgotten that lesson.”

Walter Spat, the first stake president in South America, for many years has owned a furniture factory in Sao Paulo, Brazil. The delicately hand-carved roses, figures, and designs in the beautiful woods make his furniture as lovely as I have ever seen. Every piece is exquisite. Every creation is a masterpiece. One day my Ruth and I were in the entrance of his factory when a beautiful, newly made piece of furniture was carried in from the factory for showing. The grain of the wood flowed beautifully, and the finish was perfection. But to President Spat the hardware did not seem up to standard. Without hesitation, he took a screwdriver and a pair of pliers and pulled off all the hardware. His only remark was, “That is not my work.” President Spat seems incapable of making a piece of furniture which is not as near perfect as it can be. His work reflects his honor and integrity.

My boyhood dream came true when I made the basketball team at Utah State University. During my second year at Utah State, a returned missionary befriended me. Because of his example I began looking at my associates at school, including those on the basketball team, and realized that the people I most wanted to be like were those who had served missions. With the kind and loving mentoring of my good friend—and, I am sure, as a result of my mother’s prayers and good example—my desires changed. After my second year at Utah State, I was called to serve in the Western Canadian Mission.

My friend Lauri’s desire was to gain an education from BYU. Her goal was to obtain her degree in design (a program that no longer exists) and then find employment in that field. While she was attending BYU and pursuing this goal, she was employed part-time at the Registration Office, where she developed organizational and management skills. When she graduated with her degree in design, she was offered a full-time position as an assistant manager in the Registration Office—something that was definitely not in the design field. However, she was newly married and she needed the job in the Registration Office so that she could help support her husband, who was getting his education at BYU. She therefore accepted the offer and put on hold her desire to use her new skills in design. She had to take an unplanned detour. But rather than panic or give up her goal, Lauri adjusted her plans, and a new, improved route appeared.

Because of her job in the Registration Office, Lauri was given the opportunity to attend a variety of organizational and management skills conferences and presentations, subsequently learning things she had not learned in her major design classes. Before she knew it, Lauri had become the manager of the Registration Office, where she developed those skills even more. In the meantime, Lauri and her husband began to have a family. Her husband continued his schooling, and Lauri continued to work.

When their first child was born, they had to place the baby in a childcare facility during the hours that Lauri worked. She soon learned that the childcare facility was struggling financially—in fact, it was on the brink of failure. Relying on the skills she had obtained in her unplanned employment, Lauri suggested some things to the owner of the childcare facility that she believed would help the facility improve financially.

What happened next was totally unexpected. The owner of the childcare facility asked Lauri to take over as owner. The change was made, and Laurie became the new owner of the facility. Because of the skills she had learned in the Registration Office at BYU, she was able to turn the facility into a very profitable organization. And what about her degree in design? She was able to use that as well, as she decorated her new business using the skills she had learned in her design classes.

The most important thing that happened in Lauri’s unexpected detour is that while her husband continued his education and their family grew, her children were able to be with her at the childcare center. She set her goals, and through faith, hard work, responsibility, and the willingness to learn and be flexible, she was, in her own words, “set up for years.” Her course was not a direct course and the end results were not what she had originally planned, but they were far better than she could have ever expected.

When the new mission president arrived, he eventually found out where I was and transferred me to another area. This second area consisted of 16 small islands. That mission president told me that we were so short of missionaries I would not have a companion. He told me that I should preach the gospel and build up the Church on those 16 islands. Those were my only instructions. Again I kept moving and trying to do some good. There were members on some of those islands. I often took them with me on preaching trips. We mostly traveled by small sailboat.

I suppose the Lord has his way of testing all of us. It seems that I was born with a weak stomach, and most of my boat trips (which were many) found me seasick. We would go to one island and tract all day and invite everyone out to a meeting that evening. The whole island usually came, sometimes a few dozen, sometimes several hundred.

Because I knew I wouldn’t be back for several months, I would start with lesson one and spend three or four hours and go through all the lessons. When I concluded, I would ask the people to pray sincerely that evening about what they had heard. Then I would explain that those who felt it was true and had a testimony of it should be down to our boat by 8:00 A.M. the next morning to be baptized and confirmed before we left for the next island.

We often baptized people, and they were good members of the Church. We gave them instructions and called couples from some of the other branches to help them. Then we would leave for the next island and try to get back a few months later. Thus, by constantly going around, we gradually built up several good branches that have today evolved into some very good units with some very strong leaders. There was a lot of persecution in those days; so when they joined, they were usually committed. They had a spiritual conversion. It wasn’t a social thing to join the Church. They had to believe it.

by Ruth M. Challis
Ten minutes to the east of Cedar City, Utah, is Coal Creek Canyon, hillsides covered with pines, sprinkled with yellow-green aspens in the spring, and enjoyed by everyone in the area. Cleaning the canyon has recently become one of the “in” things to do for the 90 young men and women of the Cedar City Seventh Ward. The young people eagerly looked forward to organizing a service project for picking up litter along the sides of the road and began preparing for this event early in the year.
Committees were organized, planning meetings held, and arrangements made for the project. Trucks had to be found to pick up the litter, plastic bags bought to put it in, men scheduled to drive the trucks, cars assigned to carry the volunteers to the mouth of the canyon, and people appointed to supervise the groups. Charts were drawn of the canyon, and plans made for assigning so many volunteers per mile.
On the appointed June day, cars carrying the young people headed for the mouth of the canyon. The volunteers were divided into groups and let out of the cars every mile with large plastic garbage bags. People scrambled along the sides of the road picking up cans, paper, garbage, even a dead lamb. Ten truck loads of litter were hauled out to Woods Ranch, eleven miles up the canyon. At the end of the cleanup, the food committee was ready with chicken, dutch oven potatoes, salads, rolls, root beer, and cake for dessert for the weary volunteers.
In addition to cleaning up, the young people talked with tourists driving through the canyon and explained that they were members of the Church. One group of girls talked with some bicyclists who asked many questions about the gospel.
The project was a huge success, and plans are underway again for project cleanup!

To a large majority of the world, we are considered a different kind of people. We live a clean, mellow life in contrast to the partying lifestyle. I had the opportunity to travel to several different colleges throughout the United States on recruiting trips. While this was an extremely fun and exciting experience, it was also a huge eye-opener for me. The girls on the teams I was being recruited by had never even heard of Mormons. On every single trip, I ended up explaining my beliefs. They were shocked by some of the things I told them, but this was a real testimony builder. As I told them what I believe, I felt an even stronger testimony growing inside me.

It was 14 February when I knelt across the altar in the Mesa Arizona Temple with my sister, Jennifer; my dad; and my mom. I was 15 years old and had been a member of the Church for a year. What had been only a goal a year before was now a reality. We were about to be sealed as a family for time and eternity.
Twenty-one years earlier, my parents, who were not yet members, married in a religious ceremony. The minister said the marriage was “until death do you part,” but my parents thought marriage should last forever. They signed letters to each other, and later to Jen and me, “Love for forever and three days.” It was their way of saying they hoped we would always be together.
It wasn’t until my dad started having back problems that we met a member of the Church. A therapist who helped my dad with back exercises began talking to my parents about the gospel. Slowly, they became interested and asked to meet the missionaries.
The first meeting we attended was a stake conference. Its theme was strengthening the family. For my mom, who had been searching for ways to make our family closer, the conference was an answer to prayer.
My prayers were answered too. After the missionaries invited us to be baptized, I began praying to know if the Church was true. As I read in John 14:26–27 about having the Holy Ghost and not being afraid, I knew it was true.
On 11 February 1996, my entire family was baptized. We had been attending the ward for only a few weeks, so we were shocked when dozens of people came to the baptism to show their support.
My family made a goal to be sealed in the temple as soon as we could. We began preparing to attend the temple, focusing on our relationships with each other and with the Savior. Our relationship as a family became more spiritual as we studied the scriptures and prayed together.
I tried to read everything the prophets had written about going to the temple. I also followed my Young Women leader’s suggestion and began saying “thank you” prayers. Instead of just asking Heavenly Father for things I wanted, I concentrated on thanking Him.
On the day of our sealing, we awoke excited. Today was the day! When we arrived at the temple, Jen and I walked around outside while my parents received their endowments. The weather was perfect. It was as if the flowers had bloomed for us.
Finally it was time for Jen and me, dressed in white, to join our parents in the sealing room. I remember being struck by how bright and pure and beautiful everything looked. As we knelt at the altar, I glanced in the mirrors and saw images of our family extending endlessly. I felt the Spirit bear witness that our family could be together forever.
When we walked outside after the sealing, we were again surprised at the number of people who had come to support us.
It wasn’t until a few days later that we realized we had been sealed exactly a year and three days after our baptism. Suddenly my parents’ signature, “Love for forever and three days,” took on a whole new meaning. Their wish had come true—we could now be a forever family.

One young man strayed from the Church for years before finally returning. At a testimony meeting he said: “I got involved in a lot of things I shouldn’t have in an effort to fit in with the popular group, but I always knew something was missing. When I finally repented and returned to full activity in the Church, I didn’t feel that void anymore. I came back, and through the forgiveness of Jesus Christ and His perfect love, I know this is where I belong.”

Illustrations by Scott Greer
Dani looked up but still couldn’t see the top of the beautiful cathedral. People who belonged to a different church came here. Dani didn’t understand why her family was visiting this church on a Friday, but Dad said they were going to something called Evensong.
“What’s that?” Dani asked.
“It’s a meeting where people sing, read scriptures, and pray together,” Dad said. “Like a big family at the end of the day.”
Dani liked how that sounded. She and her family were visiting England. Last Sunday they went to a ward in a city called York. In Primary all the kids knew the same scriptures and songs Dani did. She knew the ward she visited was part of Jesus’s true Church, just like her ward at home.
But this cathedral was very different from what she was used to. She noticed a small table filled with candles. Dani watched a boy light a candle.
“Why are you lighting candles?” Dani asked him.
The boy smiled. “I light a candle when I pray for special things. As long as the flame burns, I hope the prayer will continue to be heard by God.”
They looked like regular candles to Dani. She was a little confused, but she wanted to be polite. She smiled at the boy.
Dani and her family sat down, and soon Evensong started. She saw the same boy a few rows away. Then she realized she didn’t know any of the songs everyone was singing. When they prayed, they read out of a little book. Everything seemed different than what she was used to.
But the music was beautiful, even if it wasn’t familiar. Then a man got up to read the scriptures. He was wearing robes, instead of a suit and tie like Dani’s bishop. But as he started reading, Dani realized she knew this story! He was reading about Jesus healing the 10 lepers.
“Dad,” Dani whispered, “I love this story.”
Dad smiled. “Me too.”
Then the man in robes said a prayer. He asked God to bless those who were sick and in need. Just like Dani did! He also asked a special blessing on leaders of his church. Dani remembered how her family always asked Heavenly Father to bless President Thomas S. Monson and his counselors.
A warm feeling came into Dani’s heart. She knew Heavenly Father was telling her He loved all His children and heard all their prayers, even if they went to a different church and didn’t have the fulness of the gospel.
As they got up to leave, Dad checked his phone. He looked sad as he read his messages. “Sister Monson passed away,” he said.
“Oh no!” Dani said a quick prayer in her heart that President Monson would be OK.
“Are you all right?” someone asked. It was the boy from before. He had heard Dani, and he seemed worried.
“Sister Monson passed away,” Dani said. “She was the wife of our prophet, President Monson.”
“I’m sorry,” he said kindly. “I’ll light a candle for him.”
Dani smiled and thanked him. She thought it was nice of the boy to say a special prayer for President Monson. She knew Heavenly Father would hear the prayer she said in her heart and the prayer the boy said too.

I think of when I was a young man, before I was even ordained a deacon, I went to one of our ward meetings in the little country town where I was raised, and two missionaries reported their missions down in the Southern States. In those days they traveled without purse or scrip, and they had to sleep out many nights when they couldn’t get entertainment. I don’t know whether they said anything unusual that night or not; but if they didn’t, the Lord did something unusual for me, because when I left that meeting, I felt like I could have walked to any mission field in the world, if I just had a call. And I went home, went into my little bedroom, and got down on my knees, and asked the Lord to help me to live worthy so that when I was old enough I could go on a mission. And when the train finally left the station here in Salt Lake and I was headed for the little land of Holland, the last thing I said to my loved ones was, “This is the happiest day of my life.”

At Deseret Press, Brother Monson helped President J. Reuben Clark Jr. prepare his manuscript Our Lord of the Gospels for publication. They met regularly for months in President Clark’s office. The relationship that developed between them was almost that of father and son. When Thomas S. Monson was called to preside over the Canadian Mission, he took Frances and the children to visit President Clark. As Frances was carrying her third child, the Monsons said it would be named after him were it a boy. When told the child would be called Clark, the president urged, “Don’t be afraid of ‘Joshua Reuben.’” When Clark Spencer Monson was born in Toronto, Canada, the parents informed President Clark by wire. He responded with a classic letter (a Monson family treasure) addressed to the baby.

My Uncle Mons Andersen had said to us that we must go to his folks in Lehi. That same evening a fisherman was going past Lehi and said he could take two of us. So Mother and my brother Mathias went with him. Then someone would come after the rest of us. The train could not take us there for the track was then only laid to the Point of the Mountain. So the rest of us stayed in the tithing yard till the next day. All that day no one came. But the next day, July 20, 1872, a man by the name of Mathias Petersen from Lehi came for us in a brand-new wagon. Happy were we. We came as far as this side of Sandy and stopped overnight. The next day, this being Sunday morning, July 21, 1872, we arrived in Lehi.

Now I must say a little about Sunday, July 21, 1872. As I said before, we camped overnight on the state road this side of Sandy. It was a beautiful morning, and time came for us to have something to eat before starting. There were five of us in all, and we had some baked wheat bread. There was a farmhouse some distance away, so Mathias Petersen, our driver, went over there to see if he could get some milk to go with the bread. He soon came back and a lady with him with a pan full of sweet milk. It was my first night camping out and my first meal of wheat bread and sweet milk. I shall never forget how good it tasted to me. I was overjoyed. Oh, how good I thought that lady was to bring us that good milk! I don’t know if she was a Mormon or not. But at that time I thought all the people in Utah were Mormons so, of course, I thought she was. So it was another step to me to gain a little better feeling for Mormonism.

On one occasion I was in a mission conference when a missionary with great compassion, with tears in his eyes, asked me, “Why did the Savior have to suffer so much?” I reached for our hymnbook, turned to this song, and answered his question with this verse:
And when I think that God, his Son not sparing,
Sent him to die, I scarce can take it in,
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.
Jesus suffered so much because of His love for you and me. What a message! Worthy music is powerful. It has power to make us humble, prayerful, and grateful.

Early in 2003, just two years into our quinoa research project, I visited traditional quinoa production fields in the Bolivian Altiplano. There, highly diverse quinoa fields were partly infested with the local weedy goosefoot, and the two often cross-pollinated. Impoverished subsistence farmers who lacked mechanization would walk through the fields and separately harvest the black-seeded weedy quinoa, which they often consumed in popped form. Later, in early November 2003, I broke away for a day from a scientific conference in Denver to see what quinoa production looked like in the United States, visiting the main growing region around Alamosa in southern Colorado. The discouraged Colorado grower I met with complained that every three years they had suffered near-total yield losses due to pressure from insect pests and excessive heat. From those two experiences, my colleagues and I started thinking that maybe the solution to failed quinoa production in the United States was to cross it with lowland-adapted strains of goosefoot.

The next year, in 2004, we started collecting seeds from weedy populations, mostly in Utah and Arizona. Since then, our collection has expanded to include samples from hundreds of goosefoot populations growing in environments as diverse as the Sonoran and Mojave Deserts, the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, the Great Plains, California, and even as far east as the coast of New England. We are now crossing elite quinoas with these exotic goosefoot strains and producing breeding populations that we share with quinoa breeders in a dozen countries on four continents.

Two years ago, while revisiting the Colorado quinoa region, this time during the growing season, we noticed that the production fields had native goosefoot plants growing around their margins. In addition, the quinoa fields contained many plants showing intermediate characteristics between quinoa and the weedy form—just like we were accustomed to seeing in Andean quinoa fields in Bolivia and Peru. The next year we sampled fifteen plants showing varying degrees of goosefoot characteristics, and after DNA sequence analysis by one of my students, Jake Taylor, and Drs. Maughan and Jarvis, we confirmed the extensive introgression of goosefoot genes into this population. Interestingly, many years after the quinoa disaster of 2003, the problem was no longer failure to set seed; it was now a problem of heterogeneity due to the natural outcrossing process, which was converting quinoa into an adapted crop through genetic mixing with its weedy but native cousin. In other words, weedy goosefoot genes had literally saved the Colorado quinoa industry.

The following experience was posted on a Christian website by a Hospice of Metro Denver physician:
I just had one of the most amazing experiences of my life and wanted to share it with my family and dearest friends: I was driving home from a meeting this evening about five, stuck in traffic on Colorado Boulevard, and the car started to choke and splutter and die. I barely managed to coast . . . into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn’t even turn over.
Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the “quickie mart” building, and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a gas pump, so I got out to see if she was okay. When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her. It was a nickel.
At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with three kids in the back (one in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95. I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept saying, “I don’t want my kids to see me crying,” so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now.
So I asked, “And you were praying?” That made her back away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, “He heard you, and He sent me.”
I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely and while it was fueling walked to the next-door McDonald’s and bought two big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little. She told me her name and that she lived in Kansas City.
Her boyfriend had left two months ago, and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn’t have money to pay rent on January 1, and, finally, in desperation had called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about five years. They lived in California and said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there. So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.
I gave her my gloves and a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, she said, “So, are you like an angel or something?”
This definitely made me cry. I said, “Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people.”
It was so incredible to be a part of someone else’s miracle. And, of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car, it started right away and got me home with no problem. I’ll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won’t find anything wrong.
Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of their wings.

Soon after Sabrina and Camila returned to church, they began reaching out themselves. When Ana Carolina Batista, age 14, began investigating the Church with her mother, the twins were there to help. The first time she attended church, Ana Carolina’s anxiety melted when the twins sat by her and showed her how to look up scriptures in the lesson. “This made me feel good, because I didn’t know what to do. I felt relieved to see there were people to help me,” she remembers.
Ana Carolina says the twins’ friendship made her decision to join the Church much easier. Sabrina and Camila were also happy; their little class was growing.

Susanna unlatched the gate and quietly entered the old churchyard next to her home in the tiny village of Essex, England. Tomorrow she and her family would be leaving for America—for Zion. In all her eleven years, Susanna had never been farther away from home than Great Dunmow. Even then, she had only been there twice, when Papa allowed her to go with him to market.
One year ago—May 31, 1860, to be exact—Susanna was sitting on the step of their cottage, tending little Henry so that Mama could get the twins, Samuel and Elizabeth, cleaned up for supper. Down the path walked two tall strangers dressed in Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. They carried books that reminded Susanna of the Hayden’s family Bible.
“Hello, young lady,” one of the strangers addressed Susanna with a funny accent. “Are your parents home?”
And that was how her family found the true Church of Jesus Christ. Papa invited the missionaries inside. They began teaching the family the gospel, and Susanna soon learned about one of their books, the Book of Mormon.
Susanna’s family had always been good church-going people. Even before the missionaries came, she and her one-year-younger brother, Joshua, took turns reading the Bible to the family every night after supper since neither Papa nor Mama could read. Now the family began studying the Book of Mormon too.
Soon after they joined the Church, family and friends began treating them differently. Some just ignored them, others shunned them. Susanna and Joshua’s classmates teased them and even taunted them about their new religion.
One day Joshua asked his mother, “Why do kids at school throw rocks at us?”
Susanna added, “The minister’s children call our missionaries ‘preachers of the devil.’ Their father even told them to stay away from us.”
Mama said, “Even Nephi was tormented for his beliefs.”
After months of persecution, Papa and Mama decided to leave their tiny English village and journey to Zion. Susanna wondered what her new life would be like in America. Would she miss her beautiful village nestled among the lush green and rolling countryside of England?
Mama was due to have a baby soon, but she refused to delay their journey any longer. The family packed their few belongings; Susanna watched Mama tuck in their precious new scriptures next to the family Bible.
On Susanna’s twelfth birthday, June 1, 1861, Papa, Mama, Susanna, Joshua, Samuel, Elizabeth, and Henry climbed aboard the huge ship in Liverpool, England, bound for Boston Harbor. Susanna thought about Nephi’s family leaving for the promised land. She and Joshua read aloud from the Book of Mormon every day of their ocean journey.
One day a violent storm arose at sea. Winds heaved the ship to and fro. Waves slammed against the ship’s sides and dashed upon its deck. Below, passengers huddled together in fright. Children whimpered. Susanna wondered if they would be swallowed in the belly of the ocean like Jonah in the Bible was swallowed by the whale. Finally she cried out, “Are we going to sink, Mama?”
“No, my child,” Mama said. “The Lord will protect us if we have faith. Remember, He calmed the tempest for Nephi.” Then Papa, Mama, and the five children knelt and prayed for safety through the storm.
Two days later a baby girl was born to them. Papa named her Seaborn because she was born at sea. That night she died. Papa sang, “And should we die before our journey’s through, happy day, all is well.”* A few days later Mama died.
When the ship finally docked in Boston Harbor, Papa and the five children knelt upon the ground and gave thanks to God. Papa handed Mama’s Book of Mormon to Susanna. “I want you to be the keeper of the record,” he said.
They traveled by train to St. Louis, Missouri, where Papa worked all winter to buy provisions for the trek west; Susanna cared for the children. Finally, when buds burst forth on bare branches and robins began to sing, they headed for Utah in their covered wagon with other Mormon pioneers. Along the way, little Henry caught a fever and died. Susanna read Alma 22:14 in Mama’s Book of Mormon: “‘Christ … breaketh the bands of death, that the grave shall have no victory, and that the sting of death should be swallowed up in the hopes of glory.’”
Years later, when Susanna was a grown woman in Zion, with children and grandchildren of her own, she carefully penned these words in her mother’s Book of Mormon, “To my posterity: Treasure this book as my mother—your ancestor—did. She gave her life for the gospel’s sake. She was a true pioneer. Remember, you may be a pioneer in your own time, for a pioneer is someone who goes before others and prepares the way for them. Live faithfully so that you may be a true pioneer.”

One memory that the Spirit often brings to my mind is of an evening sacrament meeting held many years ago in a metal shed in Innsbruck, Austria. The shed was under a railroad track. There were only about a dozen people present, sitting on wooden chairs. Most of them were women, some younger and some older. I saw tears of gratitude as the sacrament was passed among the small congregation. I felt the love of the Savior for those Saints, and so did they. But the miracle I remember most clearly was the light that seemed to fill that metal shed, bringing with it a feeling of peace. It was nighttime and there were no windows, and yet the room was lit as if by noonday sunshine.
The light of the Holy Spirit was bright and abundant that evening. And the windows that let in the light were the humble hearts of those Saints, who had come before the Lord seeking forgiveness of their sins and committing to always remember Him. It was not hard to remember Him then, and my memory of that sacred experience has made it easier for me to remember Him and His Atonement in the years that have followed. That day the promise in the sacrament prayer that the Spirit will be with us was fulfilled and so brought feelings of light and peace.

Let me share two personal examples that illustrate Elder Bednar’s points.

Back in 2000, when I was getting ready to graduate with my doctorate and interviewing for my first faculty position, I found what I thought was the perfect job: a good school fairly close to home, a creative joint faculty position within the school, and a very prominent company that does great work with American Indian children and families—my specialty. My meeting with the company went great. They were onboard, and I thought this appointment would lead to all kinds of research opportunities and funding. In my mind this job was made for me. I prayed, felt good about it, and was moving forward. Then, during my faculty visit to the school, things went from bad to worse. My presentation didn’t go well, the faculty members didn’t seem to like me, and there was just something that was not right. Well, I didn’t get the offer. So why is it that after praying and feeling good about this job, things didn’t work out? That was a question my wife and I were asking ourselves.

When this job didn’t work out, the other opportunity I had was to go to Washington University in St. Louis to the top social work program in the country, which obviously is a good thing. Their offer was for me to be the assistant director of the Kathryn M. Buder Center for American Indian Studies and a lecturer in the School of Social Work. Although this was a great opportunity, it was not a tenure-track position—something I definitely wanted. So we prayed again, moved forward, and took the job. What a blessing that position turned out to be! I got to spend three years working with Eddie Brown, the director of the Buder Center and former assistant secretary of the interior in charge of the Bureau of Indian Affairs—an appointment our own Larry Echo Hawk later filled. Eddie Brown is probably the most influential American Indian social worker in the country, and during those three years we were able to travel throughout the country working with Indian tribes and tribal organizations. Those three years provided me with the foundation I needed in order to be where I am today.

As a sidenote, I later found out that, shortly after 9/11, when the economy took a nosedive, the first position was canceled due to lack of funding from the company for the joint appointment. While it would have started out as a great job, it would have been short lived.

Here is the lesson I learned in recognizing and responding to the promptings of the Spirit: Sometimes what we perceive to be a positive answer followed by a negative outcome is later followed by a new, unexpected, better answer (i.e., opportunity) if we will but trust in the Lord and keep moving forward. The Lord knew what I did not. That first experience prepared me to listen more closely to the Spirit the next time, to have an increased level of gratitude for how the Lord works in our lives, and to remember “that all things work together for good [in the Lord’s time frame] to them that love God” (Romans 8:28). So, in summary, sometimes the right choices or blessings come in the Lord’s time and through promptings that are often not recognized until after they are acted upon.