Gospel Story Finder

A 16-year-old Laurel sat in a Sunday School class listening to a teacher. It was Easter time, and the teacher had prepared a lesson on the Atonement. Speaking about the suffering the Savior had endured, he talked about what it meant to bleed at every pore, to be scourged, and to suffer on the cross. The young woman had never thought about the Atonement in such detail. There came into her mind a mental image. More than 25 years later, she spoke emotionally about the experience: “On that day the Holy Ghost testified to me that Jesus is the Christ.”

As they worked and served together, the feeling in the Eagle Valley Ward changed. Sadness faded as they found joy in service.
A few years ago, the Eagle Valley Ward in Colorado, USA, experienced many trials of faith. Multiple members of the ward were dying, and their families needed strength and support. The ward could have been overshadowed by feelings of sadness but instead found joy in ministering.
“We were carried through by serving others,” said Karie Grayson, the Relief Society president at the time. One day, while visiting the home of an ill sister, Sister Grayson received a revelation on how to uplift this sister with the love of her ward.
“As my presidency and I sat there in the room visiting with her, we were each thinking, ‘What more can we do?’” said Sister Grayson. “An idea came to me. I knew right then and there what we should do.”
This sister loved flowers, so the ward brought life to her overgrown flower garden. Every Tuesday morning, members of the ward showed up to care for the garden.
Excitement to serve grew not only in the Eagle Valley Ward but also in the community. Individuals and companies throughout the area helped provide dirt, flowers, and a watering system.
“I feel like what we did was directed by Heavenly Father,” said Sister Grayson “There was a lot of work to be done, but there was a lot of laughter with everybody together. It was so fun.”
As they worked and served together, the feeling in the Eagle Valley Ward changed. Sadness faded as they found joy in service.
Bishop Greg Adair said, “As we all participated together, the ward started to feel like a family. This period of time was a trial for our ward, but we came together and helped one another.”
Sister Grayson said the ward bonded through service not because they had to but because they wanted to. And as they did, they found healing in their own struggles. “There was a powerful feeling in the ward,” she said. “When you change the hearts of individuals in the ward, you change the heart of the ward.”
Members of the Eagle Valley Ward were “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light … and comfort those that stand in need of comfort” (Mosiah 18:8–9).
“Serving together brings you closer,” said Bishop Adair. “It was easy to minister because we all knew each other well. Christ teaches us to love God and our neighbor, and as we try to do whatever calling we are asked to do, we knit ourselves together in love.”

An older brother and sister had been able to attend the University of Utah in Salt Lake City; but since the family was too poor to send another child there, Joseph enrolled at Weber Academy (now Weber State College) near Ogden, Utah. At the Academy Joseph idolized his principal and English teacher, David O. McKay, “a handsome man, straight as an arrow, and a man of great personality” who disciplined his students by his bearing.
His teacher refused to let Joseph’s bashfulness keep him back: more than once he called on the young boy to pray or to write on the blackboard in front of the large class—a task, he recalls, that made him sweat with fright. His days at the Academy under David O. McKay influenced the rest of his life, as he studied English poetry and memorized parts of Sir Walter Scott’s “Lady of the Lake,” a Scottish classic beloved of Principal McKay, who had recently returned from the Scotland mission. Joseph’s love of words and his natural talent at shorthand, learned from a commercial course, later set him on his secretarial career.

Just days ago Sister Packer and I attended Relief Society somewhere in Eastern Europe. There were in attendance twelve sisters. We sang the hymns of Zion from song books—words without music—printed nearly fifty years ago. The spiritual living lesson was reverently given from the pages of a handmade manual.
I told those sisters that they belonged to the largest, and by all measure, the greatest women’s organization on earth. I quoted the Prophet Joseph Smith when he and the Brethren organized the Relief Society.
“I now turn the key in [behalf of all women].”
This society is organized, “according to your natures. … You are now placed in a situation in which you can act according to those sympathies” within you.
“If you live to these privileges, … the angels cannot be restrained from being your associates. …
“If this society listen to the counsel of the Almighty, through the heads of the Church, they shall have power to command queens in their midst.” (History of the Church, 4:607, 605.)
The Spirit was in that meeting! And when the meeting closed, the lovely sister who had conducted with gentility and reverence wept openly.
I then told them about you, and they were strengthened. I spoke of the assignment to speak to you here tonight and asked if they had a message for you. Several of them made notes; each expression, every one, was in the spirit of sending something to you—not of asking something from you. One of them said, “A small circle of sisters send their own hearts and thoughts to all the sisters and begs the Lord to help us go forward.”
Those words, “circle of sisters,” inspired me. I could see them standing in your circle. I caught then the vision of a great circle of sisters—the same vision the Apostles and prophets before us have had.

I have a friend who got married recently, and I gave her a Liahona magazine that talks about marriage and the sacred responsibility to love each other and care for each other. Even though my friend is not a member, she read the magazine with her husband, and she thanked me sincerely because it helped her strengthen her marriage. The Liahona brings blessings to both members and nonmembers.
Beatriz de Guaigua, Venezuela

Despite my mother’s dedicated efforts during family home evenings, I was always more interested in video games than in spiritual things. The idea of serving a mission seemed distant and unappealing to me.
But everything changed one quiet night when I was 15. I was alone in the living room, playing a game on my cell phone. My mother and sister were in another room. Suddenly, a surprising noise caught my attention: the scriptures had inexplicably fallen from the shelf and landed in the middle of the room.
At first I thought my mother had thrown the book to get me off my cell phone, but then I realized she wouldn’t do that. And there was no breeze or anything that could explain how the scriptures fell.
Curious, I put down my phone and picked up the scriptures, opening them at random. The words I read were like a call straight to my heart:
“Now behold, a marvelous work is about to come forth among the children of men.
“Therefore, O ye that embark in the service of God, see that ye serve him with all your heart, might, mind and strength, that ye may stand blameless before God at the last day.
“Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work” (Doctrine and Covenants 4:1–3).
I had never read these verses before. The words touched something deep within me.
I ran to tell my mother about what had happened and showed her the passage I had read. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said she believed this was a reminder from Heavenly Father that I had been called by a prophet to prepare myself to serve a mission.
From that moment on, I began to see life and my purpose in it with new eyes. Even though I still loved video games, I realized that something had fundamentally changed within me. My cell phone often sat on the couch as I pondered the words of Jesus Christ that had touched my soul.
Now I’m serving as a missionary, sharing the good news of the gospel. I’m glad my spiritual journey began when the scriptures fell into my life one silent night, leading to a divine call that I could not ignore.

Earlier that week the Valiant class had their farewell activity for Sister Stott. Travis knew that before the activity was over, his teacher would make sure she taught them something. She always did. The moment came as she set up a maze in the multipurpose room while they waited outside. Then, one at a time, she blindfolded them and guided them through the maze by telling them when to stop and turn.
It wasn’t always easy, but by listening carefully and obeying her directions, each class member was successful. Afterward, she talked to the class about how they need to have faith and trust in Heavenly Father and listen for His guidance—after their prayers, for instance—and follow His instructions in the scriptures and as given by their parents and Church leaders. She said that He would always do what was best for them. It was a lesson Travis would never forget.

When Richard Boyd took his first scuba diving class, he didn’t realize that one day it would greatly influence both his vocation and his Church calling. Becoming a certified diver enhanced Richard’s job at Disney World in Orlando, Florida, where he was already working as a welder and mechanic helping to maintain some of the rides. With his new skills, his previous maintenance work on land was replaced by more interesting and challenging underwater work on the 20,000-Leagues-Under-the Sea ride.
Of course, when he* became Explorer adviser in the Orlando First Ward, the young men were interested in diving and so together they earned the tuition and attended scuba classes. Seventeen young men (including Bishop George Parkhurst) finished the certification course. To celebrate their success they went diving off Singer Island near Palm Beach, Florida. They made two dives on Friday and two on Saturday, each about 35 minutes apiece in water 60 to 80 feet deep.
The beautiful underwater world that each person on the trip got to see seemed like another universe. Once the young men slid into the water, they merged into a world of brightly colored coral, sponges, sea anemones, sea fans, and hosts of small tropical fish. They also got to meet many marine creatures including the small, harmless nurse sharks, the more dangerous moray eels, and barracuda, grouper, snapper, and other larger fish.
Brian Solomon, 17, found it hard to believe even after he had seen it. “The part of the trip that sticks out in my mind is how beautiful ocean life is. No matter how many pictures you see, it doesn’t compare with what you can see in person. Observing some of the sea life close up was something I’ll never forget. Imagine swimming along and then looking down and spotting a four foot barracuda making eyes at you!”
Dale Strange said, “As we descended to the bottom we began to see the coral and the animal life. Time seemed to fly so fast in that world that an hour could seem like just a few minutes. It was all new and unreal to me even though I have always been interested in the ocean.”
Besides giving the boys something to learn and master together, the classes also gave them greater appreciation for their leaders. Brian Solomon summed up the feelings of the group: “The classes and the trip were great, but our experiences with our leaders were even greater. Each one of them did his part and more. I wish everyone could meet them and feel their spirit.”

The apartment room was cluttered with memories—autographed photos of famous musicians, Russian paintings, programs from concerts whose music had long ago evaporated into the air. By the window a slender young woman stood playing the violin, tossing off difficult runs like so many spring flowers. Her teacher, an older gentleman, was hammering out the accompaniment on a grand piano, listening intently to her every note, calling out instructions in a heavy Russian accent. The music seemed to burst from the room into a thousand fragrant blossoms.
Her teacher stopped abruptly. “No! No! Go a little deeper into your soul!” he pleaded. “That’s the German style you’re playing. In Russia and America we do it this way.” He picked up his violin from the piano and demonstrated. “Put more of nature’s tranquility into your playing. And don’t slide to the note.”
She started playing again, bow moving effortlessly across the strings, eyes carefully measuring the page of notes and lines before her that she somehow magically translated into music. Too soon the piece was finished, and she turned to her teacher.
“Generally speaking,” he said, “I would say that was excellent. You have a cool head and a warm heart, which make you a fine violinist. You have talent.”
On that sweet note, Lois Watkins finished her lesson with Raphael Bronstein, one of Russia’s finest violinists who now teaches talented young musicians at the Manhattan School of Music in New York City. So she packed up her violin, said thank you and good-bye, and started threading the busy west side streets of Manhattan leading back to her apartment.
Whether taking or teaching lessons, conducting, performing with the National Orchestra, or playing jobs around the New York City area, Lois Watkins is up to her violin in music, and she loves it. To her, music is a way of sharing—and just as important, a road to excellence.
“When I perform, I just want people to enjoy the music, and forget about their problems. I try to keep in mind what the composer wanted and also to incorporate what I think the music conveys,” said Lois. “In order to do this well, I have to be the best musician I can—and that takes work. But the results are worth it. When you know you’ve played well, there’s nothing like it. It gives you confidence, makes you respect yourself, and you enjoy giving your music to other people. It’s creating something, and that’s very satisfying.”
Lois grew up in a home where making music was almost as popular as talking or eating. All ten of the Watkins family are excellent musicians, and often enjoy musical sessions together. Lois’s musical philosophy was shaped in that home environment.
“A good musician will create a feeling in the listener,” said Lois. “If you go to a concert and hear a lot of fast notes and nice music, you are not necessarily touched. If it doesn’t make you thoughtful, or angry, or make you feel love or compassion or somehow more sensitive to life, I don’t think the performer has been successful.
“Because so many feelings are generated by music, we need to be choosy about what we listen to. Some music is definitely not good for us. I feel that if it puts you in a train of thought that is not conducive to gospel standards, then it’s wrong for you,” she added.
Lois rents a room on the west side of Manhattan from two elderly sisters. The apartment is close to the Manhattan School of Music where she takes classes, so she can easily walk to school. Her mother attended school in that same building years before when it housed the Julliard School of Music. Lois’s parents met and married in New York City and now live in Pelham, New York, about an hour away from New York City by train. Each Wednesday Lois takes the train to Bronxville, not far from home, where she teaches violin to aspiring musicians in the fourth and sixth grades.
“It’s fun to teach when the students practice and really enjoy the lessons. I have some good students. And when you teach, it helps your own playing because you learn to analyze problems and overcome them. I’ll probably always teach a little, but mostly I want to perform and conduct. That’s what I’ve put most of my efforts into,” Lois added.
“Conducting is my main interest, not just being a violinist. For two summers I attended a conducting school in Hancock, Maine. I was the youngest person there. I’ve conducted a lot of major orchestral works and have done some conducting here in New York City. It’s difficult to break into, though, and not many major music schools have conducting as a major, so I’ve decided to concentrate mostly on my violin while I’m here taking classes. One of the best ways to learn to be a good conductor is to play in various orchestras and observe conductors. I’ve played under some of the finest conductors, like Aaron Copland, Seiji Ozawa, and Zubin Mehta.”
She’s also spent summer at outstanding schools and music camps like Tanglewood (where she received the award for the outstanding chamber music musician), Saratoga (where young musicians are taught by the members of the Philadelphia Orchestra), and the Meadowmount School of Strings, taught by many members of the Julliard faculty. Competition for participating in these schools is very tough. “I’ve been very lucky,” said Lois.
But it wasn’t simply luck that put Lois where she is now in the world of music. A lot of hard work was part of her formula for excelling.
“I started playing the piano at age four and the violin at seven,” said Lois. “I also picked up trumpet and French horn, which I still play occasionally. At the beginning I didn’t like the violin because it didn’t sound very good when I played it. The violin is a hard instrument to coordinate, because your left hand is in an awkward position, and you have to vibrate it. Even the bow is awkward to hold at first. It takes time to develop your muscles for playing. It’s easy to sound bad on the violin at first.
“But you have to have patience and plug away until you can start making it sound half decent. Sticking with something you don’t like at first teaches you self-discipline. You’re not going to enjoy every teacher you get in school, every assignment you have, every job you get in life, but there are benefits to sticking things out.
“I started out practicing for half an hour at the beginning, then 45 minutes, then an hour, and eventually an hour and a half. My parents really encouraged me. By high school I was practicing two hours a day, which really isn’t a lot. I practiced regularly, though, and if I wanted to go out and play with friends, I had to practice first to make sure it would get done.
“It was tough when I was younger to learn that self-discipline. But then I got to the point where I made practicing high priority and did it on my own. It was good for me because it helped me to regulate my time and learn how to get things done,” she said.
Today Lois usually plays the violin about eight hours a day, divided between practicing, lessons, orchestras, and playing odd jobs like weddings and musicals. And she thoroughly enjoys that schedule.
One of the highlights of her week is practicing with the National Orchestra, whose purpose is to prepare musicians for professional orchestras. Young musicians from around the world compete for acceptance by the orchestra. If you survive the string of intensive auditions and are accepted, you’re given the opportunity to work in a professional kind of situation.
“You sign a three-year contract with the orchestra and receive a salary,” said Lois. “We practice three times a week and give four concerts each year at Carnegie Hall with guest conductors and soloists. We go through a lot of orchestral music, which is great preparation for eventually joining another symphony.”
In addition to the enjoyment she receives from daily participation in the music world, one of her most rewarding experiences is sharing her music in church meetings. It puts her talent in perspective, she said.
“You can almost bear your testimony through music. I’m asked to play a lot in Church meetings, and that’s a very satisfying aspect of music. Church members really appreciate music because it’s such a spiritual part of the meeting. People are really touched by music. I dedicate what I play to my Heavenly Father, because it’s not really my music that touches people, it’s a gift from him.
“When I play for church, I always try to create a setting that’s conducive to worship. I never pick fast, showy pieces. I think the piece should be melodious, not too long (about three or four minutes), and not boring. I try to play pieces that will put the listeners in a worshipful mood and try to choose something that’s not too far from their musical experience.
“Music plays such an important part in the quality of our services that we need to give our very best. It’s important for people in the Church to develop really excellent musical talent. No musician should take performing in church lightly, whether he or she’s an accompanist, director, choir member, or soloist,” she said.
Lois started to gather the books and music she needs for her National Orchestra rehearsal downtown at Lincoln Center, where the New York City Opera, Metropolitan Opera, and New York City Ballet perform, along with many of the world’s finest musicians. She’s going to do some studying at the music library at the center, too, so plans to get there about two hours before rehearsal time. Just across the street from the center is the Church’s visitors’ center and the chapel for the Manhattan Wards.
“I love the excitement of being in New York City, which is an excellent training ground for musicians. It’s a terrific place for me to be learning more about my profession—I’m getting good training and experience. I can’t help but improve my music!”
And she ran off to catch her bus.

Let me give you a parable. A man built a beautiful home and furnished it with the very best of carpets, furniture, appliances, all that money could buy. Within its walls he kept his fine automobiles and his expensive jewelry.

Then, fearful of intruders who might enter and rob him, he had installed expensive dead-bolt locks so that he had to use a key to get out as well as to get in. He put bars on the windows and doors and was like a prisoner looking out of his own home, as one might do out of a jail. He installed costly electronic surveillance devices to turn on lights and set off sirens should any unwelcome intruder enter. He landscaped largely without trees or shrubbery so there would be no place for a thief to hide. And he smugly said to himself, “Now I am secure.”

But what he did not realize is that neither bars nor dead bolts, neither lights nor sirens nor anything of the kind would have the slightest effect on intruders of another variety who could destroy his life and the lives of his family. He found himself to be his own prisoner, locked in a cell of despair and misery. He allowed the Goliaths of his life to overpower him.

A few years ago, my wife and I had the sacred privilege of meeting with some faithful members of the Church in Mexico City. Many of them, either personally or through their loved ones, had endured indescribable trials, including kidnappings, homicides, and other heartbreaking tragedies.
As we looked into the faces of those Saints, we did not see anger, resentment, or a desire for revenge. Instead, we saw a quiet humility. Their countenances, though marked by sorrow, radiated a sincere longing for healing and comfort. Even though their hearts were broken by suffering, these Saints pressed forward with faith in Jesus Christ, choosing not to let their afflictions become gaps in their faith or cause instability in their testimony of the gospel.
At the conclusion of that sacred gathering, we greeted each one of them. Every handshake, every embrace became a quiet testimony that with the help of the Lord, we can choose to respond with temperance to the frustrations and challenges of life. Their quiet and unassuming example served as a tender invitation to walk the Savior’s path with temperance in all things. We felt as if we were in the presence of angels.

“Let’s Create Night has always been one of my favorites. Last time Dad assigned me to be in charge of Let’s Create Night. I decided that it would be fun to challenge everyone to create something beautiful from something that was not so beautiful. I gathered six ugly, dirty rocks and during the week presented one to each member of the family, asking each of them to create something beautiful from the ugly stone. The results were fun and fascinating—real beauty and some unique ideas grew from the rough exteriors of those unsightly rocks.”

As I was growing up, there were no Church chapels in the entire state of New Jersey, and so for a time our little branch met in a hotel in a nearby town. My earliest memory of having a testimony of the gospel was when I was five or six years old and we were having a meeting in the ballroom of the hotel. An important visitor was there. I don’t remember now who he was, but he was very thin and tall, and I believe he had white hair.
I had grown restless near the end of the meeting as he was speaking, and my mother had been trying to keep me quiet, but she finally let me sit backward in my chair so that my legs were dangling from it. Although I wasn’t facing the speaker, I was listening to him. Suddenly I felt a burning in my heart, just like the burning described in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8: “And if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right.” [D&C 9:8] I remember turning around and seeing this tall man with the light streaming in from the large windows behind him, and I knew that he was a servant of God and that what he was saying was true. The feeling I had then was as clear and sure as anything could be.

“Wow!” Ana said. “Look at all the stars.” Everyone in Ana’s family looked up from the campfire. It seemed like there were millions of stars in the dark sky.
“Just think,” Mom said, “each of those stars is one of Heavenly Father’s creations.”
“Let’s each name one of our favorite things that Heavenly Father has created for us,” Dad suggested.
“I know,” Daniel said quickly. “I like those huge waves we saw at the ocean last year.”
Ana didn’t know what to choose. She thought about the warm sun, the bright moon, and sweet-smelling flowers. Then she remembered how much she loved all kinds of soft, furry animals. “Animals!” she said.
Ana started to shiver, so Dad wrapped a blanket around her. “After Heavenly Father created all these beautiful things for His children, He saw that they were good,” Dad said.
Ana had a warm, happy feeling inside. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and looked back up at the stars. “Thank you, Heavenly Father,” she whispered.

The all-LDS Orem, Utah, High School a cappella choir was one of a number of outstanding musical groups invited to participate in the Bicentennial Parade of American Music in Washington, D.C., during the nation’s 200th anniversary celebration. While they were on the 12-day tour, the group emphasized its 100 percent Mormon background by bearing testimonies and giving away several hundred copies of the Book of Mormon.

Plans for the trip began several months before as students and their parents worked to gather the $36,000 needed to finance the trip for the 88 singers and their director, Ed Sandgren. They worked six days a week to prepare the numbers they were to present in the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts and elsewhere.

Early on a Wednesday morning the students met at the Salt Lake International Airport and boarded their flight for Washington, D.C. That afternoon they were taken to the Annandale Virginia Stake Center where they set up their equipment and had a short rehearsal. After dining with their host families, the members presented their first east coast concert.

Thursday morning they toured the nation’s capital, then gave their concert at the Kennedy Center. The next day they were guests at a performance of an originally written presentation about Joseph Smith’s First Vision given by a non-LDS school. A cappella members said the presentation was fairly accurate. The school’s religion teacher was given a Book of Mormon in appreciation.

The youth had a chance to show their religion in action that afternoon at a special luncheon in the Rayburn House Office Building when every member of the choir turned over their coffee cups. “The waiters made several rounds in the area to fill our cups, but found none to fill,” one student reported. “They had very puzzled expressions on their faces.” The restaurant had to send out for more milk to satisfy the individual demands at the luncheon.

Tours and concerts at Philadelphia, New York City, and in New Jersey were included in the 12-day trip.

Of particular interest to the choir was their concert in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. It was an overcast day, and the room where they sang was gloomy because the main source of light was through several windows near the top of the structure. Then, as the choir began “The Lord’s Prayer,” the sun broke through the clouds and streamed through the windows. No sooner had the group finished than the sun again disappeared behind the thick clouds.

Many times on their tour people asked where they were from. When they answered that they were from Utah, the next question usually was, “Are you part of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir?”

The spirit of the group inspired a number of nonmembers, including a clergyman, who after hearing them sing said, “They’ve certainly made my week.”

The missionary spirit was strong in the all-LDS choir. One member gave out 38 copies of the Book of Mormon, another 14. The tour was a chance to proselyte and to rehearse, not only music but for full-time missions planned to begin in the next few years.

“I spent eighteen years teaching and fulfilling my responsibilities as a priest,” says Hsieh. “I was very busy, but I wasn’t happy. I had had the opportunity to study in Europe; I had been a teacher, a student, a professor, a chaplain, a seminary director—my life was colorful—but there was a spiritual void.”
And there were rules and customs within the Catholic church with which Hsieh was uncomfortable, such as the ban on certain books—and he liked to read and study all he could. Another problem that bothered him as an ordained priest was the Lord’s statement: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Gen. 2:18).
“This particular scripture became a vivid reality for me once when I was seriously sick and there was no one close to take care of me. I felt very alone. I realized the need for a companion to share my life. I decided then that being alone forever wasn’t right.”
This combination of feelings built up over time. Finally, in 1973, he asked to be released from his priestly vows. He resigned from Fu Jen University and was immediately hired by National Cheng Chi University in Taipei. There, one year later, Hsieh met, courted, and married one of his university assistants. He was about fifty years old at this time.
“But giving up the priesthood was difficult for me,” he says. “I had been a priest for so long. Now I had given up everything that I had lived for up to that point in time. I missed sharing my knowledge and understanding of the gospel, something I had been able to do as a priest. I thought about becoming a minister in another church that allowed priests to marry. But because of my belief in the Catholic church, I couldn’t make that change.”
Three years after his marriage, Hsieh was alone in his home when two young men knocked on his door. “They asked to talk to me, and I said I had no time and no interest in whatever they wanted to talk about.
“But as I thought about them, I became more curious. I wanted to know who they were and what they were doing in Taiwan, so I looked out from the balcony of my apartment and saw them going from door to door. I waited for a long time for them to come out of one of the apartments, and then I called to them to come back to mine.
“The first question I asked them was, ‘Are you missionaries?’ When they answered yes, I questioned them about their religion. Many of my questions were left unanswered, and I didn’t feel satisfied with our first conversation.
“That evening, as I discussed their visit with my wife, she reminded me of the Lord’s admonition to ‘beware of false prophets.’” (See Matt. 7:15.)
When the missionaries made a return visit, Hsieh was not going to let them in, but he didn’t want to be impolite. For the entire evening, Hsieh explained to the missionaries what true religion should be. He did not tell them that he had been a Catholic priest, but they felt encouraged by his knowledge of Christianity.
One of the missionaries, Donald B. Cenatiempo, wrote of the experience, “I felt as if we were the students and he was the teacher. We could tell he was a very intelligent and religious man.” The missionaries asked if they could return, and Hsieh said yes. The visits became a weekly ritual.
“I didn’t want to send them away,” Hsieh remembers. “I thought that if their church were true, it would have a prophet and continuing revelation. I asked them why their church didn’t have crosses or crucifixes, and they said, ‘Because Christ is risen; Christ lives. If one of your friends or parents dies,’ they said, ‘do you take out a photograph of them dead and show it to everyone?’ I was spiritually touched by the wisdom of their response.”
Hsieh started to read the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants, which he especially liked because it is a record of the Lord speaking to man in these latter days. He asked for other books to read, and the missionaries gave him a copy of A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, by Elder LeGrand Richards.
“We told Brother Hsieh that it was possible for him to receive the priesthood and perform certain duties within that priesthood,” Elder Cenatiempo wrote. “Brother Hsieh understood as well as anybody could in his stage of spiritual progression what it would mean to hold the priesthood—the true priesthood of God.”
Hsieh explained to his wife what he had read, and she found it very interesting. Together, they began to study and pray for understanding. Eventually, Hsieh’s wife announced to the missionaries, “We have prayed and we feel it best to be baptized together.” They were baptized in December 1977.
In the years since that special event in their lives, they have developed strong testimonies that they enjoy sharing with others.
“We have always said that we would be willing to do whatever the Lord wants us to do,” says Brother Hsieh. “And we’ve always tried to use every opportunity and every talent he has given us to help build up the kingdom of God on the earth and to share the gospel message.”
Some unique opportunities have opened up to Brother Hsieh to do this. He has lectured seven times at the International Conference for Christian Professors. “They are interested in the Church because it is quite new and unique in modern Christianity,” he says. “The Lord has given me many opportunities to bear my testimony to these scholars.”
Currently, Brother Hsieh, a member of the Mu Cha Ward, serves as a high councilor in the Taipei Taiwan West Stake and has assisted in work on a second Chinese translation of the Book of Mormon.
“The gospel is the love of God,” he says. “It is important that all men and women hear this message. What we do, we do for the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Friendship is the method by which we share the gospel. The final goal for all is salvation and exaltation.”

Wilford Kimball was our bishop when I was an older teenager. He had two daughters who were my age, Ardyth and Virginia. Every, I mean every, Sunday evening we would go to Bishop Kimball’s house. Always they would be there. Always we would have refreshments. Never once did any of us feel unwelcome. It wasn’t just for a few months but literally for a few years. I don’t know how they ever afforded it, let alone put up with ten to fifteen teenage youths for two to three hours every Sunday night.
From the little group who attended those get-togethers there have been five or six bishops, several high councilors, two stake presidents, several counselors in stake presidencies, a General Authority, and wives of all these priesthood brethren. Bishop Kimball himself was later called as a stake president and then as a mission president, and there are some who were there who followed him and also became mission presidents. What a privilege to walk with Wilford Kimball and his wife in high places, their home.

On November 3, 1973, a great, winged shadow bumped swiftly across the tortured grey landscape of the Gila wilderness in New Mexico. Six miles above, the interrupted sunlight shone on the back of a National Airlines DC10 jetliner that seemed to hang in the four o’clock blue afternoon while the world moved underneath. Inside, just in front of the craft’s eastern wing, Elder Leonard Dobson was riding home in style.

While the ragged mountains slipped away under his right elbow, he relaxed, reading a little from the book of 2 Nephi in his battered, Spanish-language Book of Mormon and turning occasionally to snap a photo from his cabin window.

And sometimes he just leaned back and thought about some of the wonderful people he was leaving behind in the Venezuela Mission where he had served faithfully for two years, and he thought, perhaps, of an LDS lawyer in Sonora, California, who had given a copy of the Book of Mormon to a 26-year-old non-Mormon civil engineer named Leonard Dobson.

A brief year as a member, a mission call, the mission (could it really have been two years?), and now he was sitting on a six-mile-high cushion of air, waiting for the red and yellow lights of the San Francisco airport to come and gather him home.

Suddenly the sleepy rumble of the three jet engines was shattered by a deafening explosion; far below the huge shadow faltered; inside the plane there were screams of shock and horror, quickly dying into stunned silence.

“I looked back over my left shoulder into the cabin area to see what had happened, because it sounded like the explosion was in back of me,” Leonard reports. “Then I looked back over my right shoulder and saw the engine coming apart, pieces falling away, and flames. My first thought was, ‘Oh no; you’re going to be one of those people who go in a big airplane crash.’ The very first thing I did was pray. It just didn’t make any sense for me to die at that time, but if I was going to I wanted to talk to my Maker about it, so I started praying.”

As he prayed, all fear left him. The words, “You are a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ; the plane will get down safely,” kept running through his mind. Certain passages from his patriarchal blessing also came into consciousness, reassuring him that his mission on earth was not yet completed. It was a calm and confident young man who finished his prayer and turned to see what he could do to help.

“Some passengers were screaming and some were rushing around the cabin. The stewardesses were very busy. At that time I noticed the condensation in the cabin area, a fog that looked like smoke, and I realized that I couldn’t hear.” He found out later that the fog and the temporary deafness both resulted from a broken window two seats back through which the cabin had decompressed.

As oxygen rushed from the cabin through the broken window, oxygen masks began dropping from their compartments overhead. Leonard’s didn’t drop, and he had to pry off the panel with his fingernails and remove the mask manually. Many of the masks didn’t work properly.

“People were moving from one seat to another trying to find a mask that worked. Some of them were fainting, and as they fainted their arms would fall away from their faces and their masks would fall off.”

There was a real spirit of brotherhood in the little airplane community, passengers helping passengers as best they could. The stewardesses moved about with amazing energy and efficiency, administering oxygen and first aid to those in need.

And so, with an engine gone, the cabin depressurized, and an ocean of thin air under them, the huge craft dipped its nose and went looking for its shadow.

“The pilot put the plane into a steep dive to get some thicker air into the cabin. I got up to help some people across the aisle who had fainted but a stewardess came to them with a portable oxygen supply and motioned for me to sit down and buckle up. They had to communicate by gestures because no one could hear.”

Wanting to help somehow, Leonard began taking pictures of the disintegrating engine as the plane plummeted earthward. These pictures later proved to be an invaluable aid to the National Airlines investigating team.

The jet leveled off a few thousand feet above the rugged desert floor, and the passengers were told to get into crash landing position with their heads between their knees. The last thing Leonard saw before putting his head down was jagged peaks flashing by. A few minutes later they all felt the beautiful jolt of rubber against concrete. The wounded plane with one engine destroyed had managed to limp into Albuquerque, New Mexico, thanks to the skill of the crew and the blessings of the Lord.

On the ground the passengers slid to safety down emergency chutes and then embraced one another as old friends, shouting words that no one could hear.

The happiness of the occasion was marred by a tragedy that some of the passengers didn’t even know about yet. The man sitting by the broken window had been sucked out of the plane by the force of the decompression. There had also been several heart attacks and cases of shock.

It was a day of stark tragedy, lightened only by the fact that according to all the laws of probability, the tragedy should have been much much worse.

In retrospect Leonard says, “Life is a gift and is very precious. We are in the Lord’s hands at all times, and we must use the life, light, and guidance we have in his service. All we have and are we owe to him.”

And just as a great jet found its own shadow in the safety of the Albuquerque airport, Elder Leonard Dobson found a faint shadow of God’s great love for his servants in those few terse words: “You are a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ; the plane will get down safely.”

I like to tell my friends at school about Jesus. When I ask my friends if they believe in Jesus, most of them say no. So I ask them to come to church to learn about Him. One time the missionaries asked my family to give out pass-along cards to our friends and neighbors. I took one and ran through the field to my friend’s house. My friend wasn’t home, but I asked his grandma to give him the card and tell him it was about Jesus. Then I ran back home through the field. The field was full of nettles, and I got cuts on my legs. My mum asked me why I went through the field when I knew it was full of stinging nettles. I told her that I wanted my friend to know about Jesus. I like to tell people about our Church. It makes me happy, and I want them to be happy too.

The two women disembarking from the train in the United States capital of Washington, DC, were tired but determined. After five days traveling from Salt Lake City, Emmeline B. Wells and Zina Young Williams hoped to advance the cause of Church members but knew they faced resistance.
In January 1879 they attended national meetings about women’s right to vote and presented petitions to the US Congress, asking lawmakers to undo harsh legislation against the Church.
“I desire to do all in my power to help elevate the condition of my own people especially wom[e]n,” Emmeline recorded in her diary.1 From 1877 to 1914, she was editor of a publication for women of the Church called the Woman’s Exponent, in which she championed good works in homes and communities.
National voting rights leaders Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony “cordially welcomed” the two women from Utah.2 They helpfully assigned them to a committee carrying messages to the nation’s president, Rutherford B. Hayes.3
Emmeline confidently spoke with him, reporting, “After we had given him a few facts in relation to the condition of this people, and what was likely to be the consequences of severe and harsh measures, he remarked that he had never before considered the subject in the light we had presented it.” President Hayes invited his wife, Lucy, to listen to their appeal. “Her womanly sympathies were very perceptibly aroused.”4
For two more weeks, Emmeline and Zina carried messages on behalf of the Church to influential legislators. Emmeline recalled that they “frequently met with people who manifested the greatest interest in” their message.5
Although they were not successful in changing public opinion that year, for 17 more years, Emmeline and her Relief Society sisters spoke out for the rights of women and Church members. Happily, in 1896, Utah became a state, and many religious and civil rights were restored.