Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago, I took the Scouts on a campout in the desert. The boys slept by a large fire they had made, and like every good Scout leader, I slept in the back of my truck. In the morning when I sat up and looked at the campsite, I saw one Scout, whom I will call Paul, who looked particularly rough around the edges. I asked how he had slept, and he replied, “Not very well.”
When I asked why, he said, “I was cold; the fire went out.”
I answered, “Well, fires do that. Wasn’t your sleeping bag warm enough?”
No answer.
Then one of the other Scouts loudly volunteered, “He didn’t use his sleeping bag.”
I asked in disbelief, “Why not, Paul?”
Silence—then finally the sheepish reply: “Well, I thought if I didn’t unroll my sleeping bag, I wouldn’t have to roll it up again.”
True story: he froze for hours because he was trying to save five minutes of work.

When my grandmother was about 19 years old, she developed a disease that caused her to be very ill. She later said, “I couldn’t walk. My left foot was all out of shape after I had been in bed for several months. The bones were soft like a sponge, and when I touched my foot to the floor it felt like an electric shock.”12 While she was confined to bed and at the height of her suffering, she obtained and studied pamphlets from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She was converted and later baptized. Many times a particular challenge helps prepare us for something vitally important.

As one example, Sophia remembers a time when she was approaching a jump at high speed. She felt a distinct impression that she needed to get herself into better positioning. “In motocross, we have to be squeezing the bike with our knees. We need to keep the balls of our feet on the pegs and crouch low with our head just above the handlebars.”

Cruising in an upright position, on the other hand, is a recipe for disaster.

After she received the prompting, she didn’t hesitate. She adjusted her body position. Immediately afterward, she had a serious problem with the landing on the jump. It should’ve been a crash for sure. However, because she’d listened to inspiration and improved her positioning, she was able to absorb the shock. “Instead of crashing, I bounced with the bike.”

As the organist played prelude music, Keeley looked around the chapel. She smiled when she saw some of her friends she had left behind when her family moved to a small town in eastern Colorado.
Her family had returned to Loveland, Colorado, for the blessing of her aunt and uncle’s baby girl. All of her dad’s family had come for the special event.
She liked her family’s new home, but she was happy to be back in Loveland, where she had lived most of her life and had so many relatives and friends.
After the opening song and prayer and announcements, the bishop announced that there would be a blessing of a baby.
Keeley watched as her dad, uncle, grandpa, and other family members gathered to bless baby Kaitlyn.
Uncle Mark gave his daughter a name and a blessing. She knew that the men who stood in the circle held the priesthood. Keeley’s dad had explained how important the priesthood was when he had baptized her and confirmed her a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a year ago. In another year, her oldest brother, Samuel, would receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon.
Keeley felt tears sting her eyes as she heard Uncle Mark’s voice quiver during the middle of the blessing. She reached up to brush them away.
When the blessing was over, Uncle Mark held up Kaitlyn so that the congregation could see her.
After sacrament meeting, Keeley and her brothers went to Primary. The chorister invited them to choose their favorite songs for the children to sing.
Keeley chose “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”* The Primary children had sung it for the Primary sacrament meeting program a year ago, and it had remained one of her favorite songs.
Following opening exercises and sharing time, she went to class. When class let out, Keeley said good-bye to her friends. Once again, tears gathered in her eyes.
Everyone in the family went to Uncle Mark and Aunt Celeste’s home after church. Keeley took a turn holding the new baby. All too soon, it was time to leave.
“It was like going home,” Keeley said during the drive. “All of our family and friends were there and were glad to see us.”
“That’s how it is in heaven,” Dad said. “Family members and friends who are already there are happy to see those they left behind on earth.”
“Like when Grandpa Munson died?” Keeley asked. Her mother’s dad had died before Keeley was born. She had heard Mom talk about Grandpa and what a great man he was.
“Exactly like that,” Mom said. “We were sad that Grandpa had to leave us, but we knew there were lots of people in heaven waiting for him.” She took Keeley’s hand and squeezed it. “I know you were glad to see your old friends, and they were glad to see you. We’ll see them again. In the meantime, you have friends at our new home who will be happy that you’re back.”
“Just like in heaven,” Keeley said. She liked the comparison.
“Just like in heaven,” Mom agreed.
After family prayer that night, Keeley kissed her parents good night. She thought of her friends back in Loveland and her friends here at home, then she imagined how many more friends and family members must be waiting to see her again in heaven. A sweet warmth settled over her like a comfortable blanket as she got ready for bed.

“Another ward member who affected my life was Brother Frederick J. Pack, a professor of geology at the university and a prominent scientist. When I was about eight, I was asked to give the benediction in Sunday School. I was frightened and nervous, and I’m sure that my prayer was not very well said. But Brother Pack gave me a warm hug, saying, ‘That was an inspired prayer.’ I have never forgotten that gesture of kindness from a man whom I looked up to as a great Latter-day Saint.”

A convert from Seattle, in answering the question “What has the Church done for you?” replied, “Everything! My life now has purpose and meaning. Now what can I do for the Lord? I owe him my all.”
Another convert living in Arizona had this to say:
“One brother was extremely instrumental in our becoming members of the Church. We will ever be indebted to him and thankful to him for asking us what we knew about the Mormon Church and would we like to know more. Through the missionary discussions we were thoroughly convinced that this was the true church. And the thing that has changed my life the most is that I have found a purpose in life and a certain peace of mind I have never felt before. I know with all my heart that this is the true church and that Christ lives and God lives.”
These converts’ testimonies are truly inspiring and emphasize the value of the gospel to them and to their families.
I have borne my testimony many times to people who were interested in knowing more about the Church, and they have asked me, “How can I obtain a conviction of the truthfulness of the restored gospel—yes, a testimony to this effect?” My answer has been, “Study the gospel, pray and attend church.”
This formula when followed will bring a conviction or testimony that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is true, and when one accepts the gospel plan and lives its principles, it will bring him peace, happiness, growth, and development. However, to obtain a testimony one must have a real desire to know the truth and must be willing to exert considerable effort.
The interested person must study the gospel, and the gospel is to be found primarily in the Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price, the four standard works of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In this dispensation the Lord has counseled us to “seek … out of the best books words of wisdom: seek learning, even by study. …” (D&C 88:118.)
Jesus said, “… know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” (John 8:32.)
I feel sure that part of this freedom Jesus refers to must be freedom from ignorance, as ignorance is a deterrent to happiness, growth, and development.
Through study of the scriptures we can understand our relationship to God and how the basic gospel principles apply to our daily lives. Our study, however, should be constant and intensive, for the gospel of Jesus Christ embraces all truth.
Now regarding the second step to acquire a testimony—prayer—the Prophet Joseph Smith observed that “it is the first principle of the gospel to know for a certainty the character of God, and to know that we may converse with Him as one man converses with another. …” (Documentary History of the Church, vol. 6, p. 305.)
Near the end of the Book of Mormon, Moroni, a great leader, gave this promise:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” (Moro. 10:4–5.)
Although this promise specifically refers to the Book of Mormon, I am sure as you study the Bible, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price you will find that the promise is likewise applicable to these scriptures.
Prayer plays a vital part in our religious thinking and in our daily lives. One of my convert friends told me, “Because the elders emphasized that we should pray, I did. I barely had asked the questions when this beautiful answer came. Yes, that was the start of my new life.”
Another convert said, “I used to pray, not often, but I did pray before we became members. I prayed that someday my husband and I would grow closer together. I never thought it would come to be, but the Church was my answer. We found the power of prayer. I’m so thankful for the Church.”
Prayer then must accompany study for one to obtain a testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel.
The third part of the formula to obtain a testimony is to attend church and become involved in church activities. My Arizona convert friend also had this to say: “The first time we visited a ward meeting, I felt such a warm, loving feeling. All the people seemed to have smiles on their faces and hearty handshakes for us. We felt so welcome, and we knew we wanted to be a part of all this. This was the only way.
She continued: “Another aspect of the Church I love is its constant learning, developing, and growing power. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work in the Church because this constant contact is helping us to grow and develop in the gospel.”
Another convert expressed it this way: “As my husband and I were baptized, I had no idea just how involved we would become. My first calling was that of chorister in sacrament meeting.
“Then I was asked to be a Mia Maid leader. I asked the question, ‘What is a Mia Maid?’ I learned from experience. That is a girl at the delightful age of 14. The girls have so much enthusiasm and energy. I am thrilled with my calling in MIA. It keeps me feeling young and needed and busy.
“My husband, too, has held many positions in the ward, and his determination and dedication have been a strength to me.”

Here on my mission to the Philippines, I discovered that Christmas is celebrated from September to December. Instead of bringing the snow that I’m used to, December in the Philippines is constantly full of rainy, gray skies. It’s green everywhere you look—banana trees, coconut palms, other palm trees.
For our last appointment on Christmas Eve, we visited a family we had just started teaching. We rode our bikes through the thick jungle to the family’s bamboo-stick, tin-roofed house. When we arrived, I saw the nanay (mother) fishing in the river behind her house with a long bamboo stick and a bit of string. She told us she was trying to catch fish for their ulam (main dish) so they could eat that night. We had planned to go to a Christmas party with the other missionaries at 6:30 p.m., but we decided to spend some time catching tiny fish in the rain to help this woman feed her family instead.
That night, as my companion and I watched a video about Jesus Christ’s birth, I thought about how He came into the world with nothing and left with nothing. The family we served didn’t have much either. But I realized you don’t need much to be happy. Christmas is about more than decorations, food, or even service. It’s about God’s love (see 1 Nephi 11:13–23). It’s about charity, the pure love of Christ. It’s about loving everyone.
Although this Christmas was different for me, my experience has given me extra motivation to keep working and keep serving because the gospel of Jesus Christ can bring people so much happiness. The gospel teaches us how we can reach out in love and charity. I felt charity for that family.
The author is serving in the Philippines Antipolo Mission.

Many years ago, I took my sons, Josh (6) and Jared (5), on a fishing excursion in the Tarawa lagoon. I had previously taken the boys on fishing trips to some beautiful lakes and creeks in Utah while attending BYU, but fishing in an ocean lagoon was a completely new experience for them. With a narrow canoe I had inherited from my father, I sat Jared in front of me and Josh behind my back. Then, with glittering moonlight on the horizon, we paddled out into a deeper part of the lagoon. The boys were excited to be with their father on an outrigger canoe.

While watching the boys enjoy the experience, I noticed it was late in the evening, and I should head home before they got tired and sleepy. As I was preparing to pull the anchor in, I heard a sudden splash behind me. I turned around and found Joshua had fallen off the canoe! I had made the mistake of not putting life jackets on us. Josh went straight down into the water.I dashed in after him without explaining to Jared what had happened. I caught Josh by the arm and was pulling him up to the surface when, to my horror, I saw another splash directly over my head. My four-year old son, Jared, also sunk into the water—what a terrifying moment.We’re all going die!” I thought.

Frantically, I grabbed Jared with my left arm and Josh was on the other, then joggled my legs as hard as I could to the surface. Struggling under these circumstances, my legs began to cramp, and I was about to sink with the boys in my arms. But like young Joseph Smith, who was seized upon by some powers and called upon God to deliver him from the power of his enemy4, I also called upon God to deliver us from the dooming power of the ocean.

Thankfully and miraculously, the Lord came to our rescue. My boys, who could barely swim at the time, started acting like extraordinary swimmers. They moved their arms and legs in such a fashion which pushed us to the surface so we could all catch our breath. All of this happened within seconds. But our struggle was not over yet. We discovered upon reaching the surface that our canoe had drifted a few meters away. With feeble legs and two boys in my arms, a few meters seemed to be an unbearable distance for us. Would we make it there? I cried. However, through constant effort and prayer, we finally reached our canoe, and with gratitude, we thanked God for saving our lives.

I grew up to the sound of my older brother practicing his French horn. Day after day, year after year, the sound of his horn emanated from our house. I could even hear it blocks away when I walked home from elementary school.
If challenged, I would surely have contended that my brother was the best French horn player there ever was. Nevertheless, his constant playing embarrassed me sometimes, and once I asked my mother to make him stop. He would even bring his French horn on vacation!
Years later my brother and I found ourselves at a music competition in northern California on the campus of a big university I’d never been to before. While there, my high school madrigal group earned a top ranking, which meant we got to do an encore performance later that day. We were given directions as to where and when to meet, and we all went on our way. Soon I found myself alone, standing in the middle of the campus looking at all the tall buildings. I couldn’t see anyone I knew, but I remembered what my mother had told me to do if I ever got lost: “Stay where you are.”
I stayed but was too shy to ask for directions; besides, I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t remember anything we’d been told about where or when to meet. But suddenly the thought occurred to me to ask Heavenly Father for help. I was not a member of the Church at the time, but I had attended church regularly with my Latter-day Saint friends and had been taught that Heavenly Father answers prayers.
So I stood there and silently prayed in my heart. Before I had even said amen, my ears perked up. Far off in the distance, ever so quietly, I heard a familiar sound—a sound I had heard most of my life. As I started walking in the direction of the music, it grew louder. Could it be my brother’s French horn? I was sure of it.
But then other French horns started playing. I hesitated. Did I really think I could tell which of all those horns was my brother’s? Every time I doubted, however, I heard his horn, as if beckoning to me. As I entered a building, climbed the stairs, and got closer to the music, I grew scared. The thought of opening the wrong door to find someone I didn’t know made my face turn red. When I reached the third floor, I listened one more time, made my decision, took a deep breath, and opened the door. There he was!

At another time my companion and I visited two sisters who lived with their mother. Both had a great desire for their mother to join the Church, and whenever we came to visit, they would call for her to join us. But she would always answer, “I’m busy,” or “I have a lot to do,” in an unfriendly tone.
One wintry day—a day when we got so cold and tired that we practically had to force ourselves to finish our visiting—our last stop was at the house of this aloof woman. But when she opened the door, we could see that her whole countenance was changed. Her little granddaughter had just fallen and cut her forehead and was bleeding profusely above the eyebrow. I took a towel and pressed it hard against the wound while my companion quickly found coats so that we could take a taxi to the hospital. While the child was taken care of, we comforted the grandmother and watched the other little girl. Then we took everyone home. Eventually this woman became a member of the Church and a visiting teacher.

Imagine this scene: The date was going perfectly. He knew this was the night to declare his feelings.
“I love you!” he blurted out to the woman of his dreams. “I love you … from the bottom of my temporal lobe!”
Unless the woman was a med student, this statement would probably fall short of the intended effect. The thing is, though, he’s spot on for accuracy, because the brain is the organ that processes emotions.

In a touching letter I received just this week, a mother wrote of her Marine son who is serving for the second time in a Middle Eastern war. She says that at the time of his first deployment, “he came home on leave and asked me to go for a walk. … He had his arm around me and he told me about going to war. He … said, ‘Mom, I have to go so you and the family can be free, free to worship as you please. … And if it costs me my life … then giving my life is worth it.’”He is now there again and has written to his family recently, saying, “I am proud to be here serving my nation and our way of life. … I feel a lot safer knowing our Heavenly Father is with me.”

“Yes, I watched that show! I loved it! There wasn’t anything concerning in it—just some bad language.”
I was recommending a show to a friend. Because I’d enjoyed the story so much, I hadn’t thought twice about the amount of profanity in each episode.
It wasn’t until later that I thought about what I said and gave myself a spiritual facepalm.
“Since when is profanity not a problem in the shows I watch?” I thought.
As a disciple of Jesus Christ, I have always tried to be mindful when it comes to the media I enjoy. However, profanity was becoming common in the shows and books I consumed. I had started to become numb to it.
This led me to ponder on what other less-than-wholesome content I was allowing into my life.
Was I letting things slide in the music I listened to? Was I batting an eye when explicit content appeared in my books or crude reels on my Instagram feed?
I think you know the answer.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught, “In coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.”
I could see how easily media was interrupting my connection with the Holy Ghost each day. I needed to “resensitize” myself to the Spirit. But when inappropriate media is a constant in this world, how do we do that?
For a more specific example of this realization, not too long ago, I was reading books that my friends (many of whom are members of the Church) were reading.
Often, I would be enjoying the stories, only to be unexpectedly jarred by profanity or sexual content.
For a while, I convinced myself this wasn’t a big deal. They were just books, right? Everyone from the millions of readers on social media to my friends seemed to be reading them with no complaints.
So how could I not agree?
I enjoyed these books and wanted to be part of conversations about them! Deep down, though, they were affecting me and my outlook on life and relationships. But I was afraid to stop reading them because I didn’t want to be seen as prudish or immature.
The Lord offers this warning: “The weak things of the world shall come forth and break down the mighty and strong ones, that man should not counsel his fellow man, neither trust in the arm of flesh” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:19).
This helped me realize I needed to be honest with myself.
I was justifying my behavior by following everyone else’s choices. I was fearing their judgment and ignoring the Spirit’s red flags instead of heeding His warnings.
A few years ago, President Nelson invited us to fast from social media for 10 days. While studying his challenge recently, I noticed that in addition to social media, he included “any other media that bring negative and impure thoughts to your mind.”
So I started taking note of what content I am sensitive to. I’ve tried to establish better habits with the media I consume. Media use isn’t inherently bad, but it’s always important to make sure we pay attention to the Spirit when consuming it.
If you are having trouble knowing where to make changes in your media habits, try asking yourself questions like these:
Are you feeling uplifted and inspired? Or numb and lonely?
Have you felt any discomfort that might be prompting you to step away from certain content?
Are you feeling a need to “fit in” with others by watching or reading certain media?
Are you being honest with yourself?
Elder Ulisses Soares of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles recently taught, “It takes a courageous and a willing heart to pause and pursue an honest and meek introspection to acknowledge the presence of weaknesses of the flesh in our life that may impede our ability to submit ourselves to God, and ultimately decide to adopt His way rather than our own.”
And he’s right. It can be hard to acknowledge our weaknesses and make changes that align with God instead of the world. I still have a lot of work to do when it comes to my media choices (and all my choices), but I’m striving to do better each day.
We have the beautiful promise of having the Spirit as our constant companion as we renew our covenants through the sacrament each week and through the gift of repentance. As we do this—and are truly honest with ourselves—we can “resensitize” our hearts to His guiding influence.
I know that we can always try again when we don’t always make choices that align with the Lord’s commandments. But by focusing on Jesus Christ, we can increase the Spirit’s influence in our lives and limit the world’s.

A little old lady at a rest home turned to the old man next to her and said, “I can guess your age.”
“You can’t,” he replied.
“Yes, I can,” she said. “You go take a bath, shave, brush your hair, put on a nice clean shirt and a tie, and shine your shoes, and I’ll tell you.”
The old man was gone for about an hour. When he returned he was neat, clean, hair brushed, shoes polished, and in his suit. She said, “Now you go stand up against the wall.” He did.
He said, “Now, how old am I?” She said, “You’re 89.”
He responded, “That’s right, but how did you know?”
She said, “You told me yesterday.”

A young man approached Socrates and asked him to be his tutor and to teach him what he knew. Socrates took the young man to the seaside and out into the water. Then he pushed his head under the water for almost too long. The young man struggled, came up gasping for air, and demanded the meaning of such an unwarranted action. The great Socrates responded, “When you want to learn as badly as you want a breath of air, only then can I teach you what you want to know.” To understand the gospel of Jesus Christ, one must first have a strong desire to learn and a willingness to study.

To help explain what the Savior has done for us, President Boyd K. Packer, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, told the story of a man who borrowed a great deal of money. He bought something he had always wanted. But when the bill came due, he could not afford to pay it. He knew that his creditor would take away his possessions as payment and throw him in jail.
Then the man’s friend came to rescue him. The friend asked, “If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?” The man gratefully agreed, and his friend told him, “You will pay the debt to me and I will set the terms. It will not be easy, but it will be possible.”
Because the friend was willing and able to pay, the creditor received the money that was fairly owed him. At the same time, the man was able to keep his possessions and not go to jail. (See Ensign, May 1977, 54–55.)

David sat on the front row of the chapel and bounced his leg. He was nervous. He had just left Primary and become a deacon. The older boys were going to show David and the other 11-year-old boys how to pass the sacrament.
David’s autism sometimes made it hard for him to learn new things. Moving out of Primary had been hard for him. And now passing the sacrament seemed so scary. What if he made a mistake and everyone laughed at him?
Jacob, one of the older boys, sat next to David. “We’re happy to have you with us,” Jacob said. He gave David a high five. “You’ll do great.”
David smiled. That made him feel a bit better.
The other young men showed the 11-year-olds what to do. They showed them where to go and which rows to pass to. They practiced walking down the aisles in the chapel. They showed the boys how to hold the sacrament trays.
“Mom, look!” David said when he got home. He held his arm up. “This is how I hold the tray. Carefully, like this. Because I’m representing Jesus, and I want to show my respect.”
The young men practiced with David and the other boys after church on Sundays and during weeknight activities. They walked through where they should go. David practiced holding the tray.
Soon, the day came when he would pass the sacrament for the first time.
“How are you feeling about it?” Dad asked.
“I’m still nervous,” David said.
“Let’s talk through what you’ve done to prepare,” said Dad.
“Well, we’ve read scriptures about the priesthood as a family,” David said. “Holding the priesthood means I represent Jesus. I trimmed my nails so my hands will look nice. And I’ve practiced a lot!”
“I think you sound well prepared,” Dad said.
When he got to church, David sat on the front row with the other deacons. Jacob sat next to him. David thought about how he was going to represent Jesus when he passed the sacrament. What if he still messed up? He glanced at Jacob, and Jacob smiled at him. David smiled back and took a deep breath.
When it was time to pass the sacrament, Jacob helped David pass the tray down the first few rows. David was glad to have someone with him.
David looked at the people as he passed the sacrament. Many of them were sitting with their heads reverently bowed. Some looked thoughtful. David felt peaceful. He was representing Jesus. He was grateful he could help others think about Jesus Christ.
This story took place in the USA.

But the gospel is best understood in the familiarity and clarity of one’s native tongue. Eric Gemmell, who served in the Slovenia Ljubljana Mission from 2001 to 2003, saw firsthand what a difference it makes for members and investigators to have the Book of Mormon in their first language. He served the first 18 months of his mission before the Book of Mormon was available in Slovenian.
The work was difficult. The first branch of the Church had been established only a decade before. Slovenia had recently gained independence and was in the process of phasing out the former state language of Serbo-Croatian. The missionaries carried copies of the Book of Mormon in Serbo-Croatian and English, which most young people had studied in school. But more often than not, people declined the book because they could not understand either language. Eric remembers how hollow it felt to bear testimony to people of the greatness and importance of the Book of Mormon—and then to have to tell them that he didn’t have a copy in their language.
Six months before Eric went home, the first shipment of copies of the Slovenian Book of Mormon arrived. The branch held a meeting where each member and missionary received a copy. “There was a special spirit in the air,” Eric remembers. He recorded in his journal how it felt to hold such a precious, long-awaited book. “It was like holding the golden plates themselves,” he wrote. After the meeting, the missionaries took the remaining books to use for missionary work. Eric and his companion were so thrilled that when they got to their apartment, they opened the boxes, spread the books out, and took pictures to remember the event. They could hardly wait to share the books with people. With the Slovenian Book of Mormon in hand, not only did the missionaries have more success approaching people, but they also had a way to reinvigorate the testimonies of less-active members who hadn’t been to church in years.
In the last six months of his mission, Eric watched the testimonies of the Slovenian members blossom. “Once they got the Book of Mormon in their native language,” he says, “they really understood it. It sunk deep into their hearts.” Before, speakers and teachers in Church meetings had to read scriptures in Serbo-Croatian and have someone translate and explain some of the words. “It felt like we were limping along on borrowed words from another language,” Eric remembers. When the members started reading the Book of Mormon in their native language, “their understanding of the gospel increased immediately,” Eric says.

Shortly thereafter I boarded a train in Osaka for Yokahama and a ship that would take me home. Brother and Sister Sato came to the station to say good-bye. Many tears were shed as we bade one another farewell.
It was a very chilly night. The railroad station, what there was left of it, was very cold. Starving children were sleeping in the corners. That was a common sight in Japan in those days. The fortunate ones had a newspaper or a few old rags to fend off the cold.
On that train, I slept restlessly. The berths were too short anyway. In the bleak, chilly hours of the dawn, the train stopped at a station along the way. I heard a tapping on the window and raised the blind. There on the platform stood a little boy tapping on the window with a tin can. I knew he was an orphan and a beggar; the tin can was the symbol of their suffering. Sometimes they carried a spoon as well, as if to say, “I am hungry; feed me.”
He might have been six or seven years old. His little body was thin with starvation. He had a thin, ragged shirtlike kimono, nothing else. His head was shingled with scabs. His one jaw was swollen—perhaps from an abscessed tooth. Around his head he had tied a filthy rag with a knot on top of his head—a pathetic gesture of treatment.
When I saw him and he saw that I was awake, he waved his can. He was begging. In pity, I thought, “How can I help him?” Then I remembered. I had money, Japanese money. I quickly groped for my clothing and found some yen notes in my pocket. I tried to open the window. But it was stuck. I slipped on my trousers and hurried to the end of the car. He stood outside expectantly. As I pushed at the resistant door, the train pulled away from the station. Through the dirty windows I could see him, holding that rusty tin can, with the dirty rag around his swollen jaw.
There I stood, an officer from a conquering army, heading home to a family and a future. There I stood, half-dressed, clutching some money which he had seen but which I could not get to him. I wanted to help him, but couldn’t. The only comfort I draw is that I did want to help him.
That was 38 years ago, but I can see him as clearly as if it were yesterday.
Perhaps I was scarred by that experience. If so, it is a battle scar, a worthy one, for which I bear no shame. It reminds me of my duty!

He was tarred and feathered, beaten, driven, hated, cast out, “persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” (Matt. 5:10.) He spent months in the vile prisons of his day and was the victim of scores of false and malicious prosecutions. Once he and a small group of associates were prisoners of a mob-militia. On November 1, 1838, a pretended court martial—which ranks in infamy and illegality with the trial of Jesus before Pilate—sentenced the group to death. The order given was as follows:
“Brigadier General Doniphan:
“Sir:—You will take Joseph Smith and the other prisoners into the public square at Far West, and shoot them at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“[Signed] Samuel D. Lucas,”
“Major General Commanding.”
General Doniphan defied his commanding officer. With a boldness born of indignant justice he replied:
“It is cold blooded murder. I will not obey your order. My brigade shall march for Liberty tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock; and if you execute these men, I will hold you responsible before an earthly tribunal, so help me God.”
“[Signed] A. W. Doniphan,”
“Brigadier General.”
(Essentials, p. 241.)