Gospel Story Finder

Some of Benjamin’s acquaintances felt the same way. “People wanted me to believe that we were too young, that my soon-to-be wife should complete an education first, and that if we got married, it would mean that we would have children, which we were also too young for,” he says.

Although Ane and Benjamin believed in the gospel’s emphasis on family and marriage, others not of their faith did not generally share this priority—at least not for young adults. “People in my town are strongly focused on education and work,” Ane explains. “This is good, but it does not leave much room for family—or religion.”

Benjamin says, “I had always thought that the right thing to do was to return from my mission, find someone I liked, then loved, and then, after having made a decision to marry and having received a witness from the Holy Ghost, get married. It seemed so simple to me, but suddenly everything had become confusing, dark, and difficult.”

Both Benjamin and Ane were concerned about the advice and opinions given by their friends. For a whole year they struggled to decide on the right time to get married. They knew that ultimately the most important guidance would come from the Lord, so they spent much time searching the scriptures and words of the prophets for talks about family, marriage, and education.

Benjamin never experienced a particular turning point in which he realized that marriage was the right decision at that time for him. Instead, he says, “I realized that I had to go back to the basics. Why was I here? What was my purpose on earth?”

As he searched the scriptures and the words of prophets and apostles, Benjamin turned to Heavenly Father in prayer. He also received priesthood blessings. “It became clear to me that I was sent to earth to return to God with my family,” he says. “There was no greater work or other task to supersede that. It’s in ‘The Family: A Proclamation to the World.’ If I knowingly disregarded this and did something else, I would be disobeying God’s commandments.

“Once it was revealed to me that what I had been taught all my life was so true that it had priority over others’ opinions, I felt enlightened. I decided to follow what I had been taught.”

Ane and Benjamin were married on July 16, 2009, in the Stockholm Sweden Temple. “When the day of our temple sealing arrived, I felt such peace,” Ane says. “It was all very simple. Beautiful. No worldly trappings. It felt so good to be with my parents and siblings in the temple—and with Benjamin. It was a time filled with true love.”

Benjamin agrees. “God has guided my life in such a way that I have been taught to put Him first,” he says. “For me, it wasn’t a choice between family or education; it was family first and education at the same time. Other decisions are the same. It isn’t God or nothing. It is God first; then everything else follows.”

It is Christmastime and again my thoughts turn to Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus, and to the first Christmas.
It was a dream come true for Sister Kimball and me to be in Bethlehem one Christmas Eve some years ago. December 24 was a beautiful Sunday there and early that morning we held a sacrament meeting in Baghdad, Iraq, with a family in whose home we were guests. Afterward we flew to Damascus in Syria and then went on to Jerusalem. People from many lands were gathered there on that sacred night, waiting to be taken over the 18 kilometer winding hill road to Bethlehem.
Arriving in Jerusalem, we found the square so crowded with people that it was easy for our thoughts to go back to that first Christmas when Joseph and Mary were told “There was no room for them in the inn.”
To add to the confusion of the milling throng, Christmas carols blared out from a sound truck, and bells rang from the cupolas of the Church of the Nativity that had been built back in the fourth century. The church is built on the square over a grotto that many believe to be the true site of the manger where the Christ Child was born.
A low door and narrow steps lead into the grotto. With difficulty we made our way there. It was lighted by many candles and hung with rich drapes. With the eager crowd, we tried to meditate and relive, in contemplation, the story of that most important of all births.
Afterwards we were fortunate to find a taxi to take us about 3 km down the hillside to the Shepherd Fields where at last we found a quiet peace on that crisp, clear night. There were only four of us there on the hillside where the shepherds had been watching their flocks on that first Christmas Eve..
The moon shone with unusual brilliance, and the sky was studded with stars. In imagination, we could almost hear the “multitude of heavenly hosts praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’”
We looked up the hill to the twinkling lights of Bethlehem and felt impressed to softly sing,
O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie …
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
Afterwards I offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the privilege of that Bethlehem Christmas and for my knowledge of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, the Son of God. My heart was filled with joy to know that He marked for us the plan, the way of life, whereby if we are faithful we may someday see Him and express our gratitude personally for His perfect life and His sacrifice for us.

It happened in the life of Sister Abie Turay, who lives in Sierra Leone. A civil war began in 1991. It ravaged the country for years. Sierra Leone was already one of the poorest countries in the world. “During the war, it was unclear who [controlled] the country—banks … closed, government offices were shuttered, police forces [were ineffective against rebel forces], … and there was chaos, killing and sorrow. Tens of thousands of people lost their lives and more than two million people were forced from their homes to avoid the slaughter.”
Even in such times, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints grew.
One of the first branches was organized in the city where Sister Turay lived. Her husband was the first branch president. He served as a district president during the civil war.
“When guests visit Sister Turay’s home [now], she loves to show them two [treasures] from the war: a blue-and-white-striped shirt [she got] from a bale of used clothing [given by members of the Church] and a blanket, now worn and riddled with holes.”
She says, “This shirt is the first … clothing I [received]. … I used to wear it to go to work—it was so good. [It made me feel so beautiful.] I didn’t have other clothes.
“During the war, this blanket kept us warm, me and my children. When the rebels [would] come to attack us, this is the only thing I [could] lay [my] hands on [as we fled to the bush to hide]. So we [would] take the blanket with us. It would keep us warm and keep the mosquitos away from us.”
“Sister Turay speaks of her gratitude for a mission president who would make his way into the war-torn country with [money] in his pocket.” Those funds, from the fast-offering donations of people like you, allowed the Saints to buy food that most Sierra Leoneans could not afford.
Sister Turay, speaking of those who were generous enough to donate for them to survive, says, “When I think [of] the people who did this … I feel that [they were] sent by God, because ordinary human beings made this kind gesture for [us].”
A visitor from the United States sat with Abie not long ago. During his time with her, he found his eyes “drawn to a set of scriptures that were on the table.” He could tell that they were a treasure, “well-marked with notes in the columns. The pages were [worn;] some were torn. The cover was detached from the binding.”
He held the scriptures in his “hand and gently turned the pages. As [he did, he found a] yellow copy of a tithing donation slip. [He] could see that, in a country where [a dollar was worth its] weight in gold, Abie Turay had paid one dollar as her tithing, one dollar to the missionary fund, and one dollar as a fast offering for those who, in her words, were ‘truly poor.’”
The visitor closed Sister Turay’s scriptures and thought, as he stood with this faithful African mother, that he was on sacred ground.

A sign in the Smiths’ front yard says “Smiths’ Blissful Acres.” Blissful means “happy,” and the Smiths have found that working and playing together make them happy. They live in a house that was once a barn on 10 acres (4 ha) amid brush-covered hills. Here you’ll find a tree house with a rope swing, a pond with canoes, a vegetable garden, a fruit orchard, steers, chickens, and a big dog named Rascal. You’ll also find ten-year-old Daniel, eight-year-old Steven, and six-year-old Alysa Smith. They have four older brothers, an older sister, and lots of cousins. They love being part of a large family.
On Saturday, October 25, 2003, a small fire started 18 miles from the Smiths’ home. But in a few days the wind had turned the small fire into the largest fire in the history of California. By Tuesday, the fire was burning toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres.
“The sky was orange,” Alysa says, “and the sun looked dark red. We wore masks over our noses and mouths because of the smoke and ash in the air.”
Daniel, Steven, and Alysa packed their clothes and stuffed animals. Because it feared the fire, “one of our steers broke the chain on his halter and went under the fence,” Daniel says. “Rascal helped us get the steer back into the corral.”
When the Smiths had to evacuate, they had to leave the steers and chickens behind. “We raise the steers to sell and pay for our missions,” Steven says. “We were scared that everything would burn.”
Before they left, the Smiths knelt in family prayer. “We prayed for the Lord to bless us and our house and animals,” says Daniel, Steven, and Alysa’s dad, Jeff. “We had done all we could do and then left it in Heavenly Father’s hands.”
“We felt better after our prayer,” Steven says. “I felt the Spirit. Mom helped us feel calm, too.”
At 7:30 p.m. the Smiths got into their two cars and a truck to drive the 30 minutes to a friend’s house in the desert. “Rascal wouldn’t get in the car,” Alysa says. “Some of us were crying, and we were scared Rascal would die in the fire.”
The firefighters worked for four days to protect the town of Julian from the fire. One firefighter died. More than 700 houses burned in the hills around Julian, but the town was saved.
Though the roaring fire raced toward Smiths’ Blissful Acres, the firefighters stopped it two miles before it got there. When the Smiths came home on Saturday, they were so happy that the animals and the house were safe. But Rascal was still missing. Five days later, a man from the animal control center called and said Rascal was there.
“When my mom brought Rascal home, we all jumped on him and hugged him,” Daniel says. “We were so happy.”
During the weeks after the fire, Daniel, Steven, and Alysa helped at the disaster center in Julian. As people donated clothing and supplies, and others sorted the donations into boxes, the Smith children carried the boxes up or down the stairs to the assigned areas.
Since the fire, the Smiths are more grateful than ever for their family, home, and the Church. They express gratitude in their family prayers at the beginning and end of every day. After the prayer, the Smiths have a family tradition. They put their feet in the center of the family circle, pile their hands on top of each other’s hands, and say, “We love everybody.” Then they raise their arms and hands over their heads and shout, “We fly high!”—a reminder that with the gospel and each other, they can become better every day.
And Daniel, Steven, and Alysa do “fly high” because working and playing together makes them and their family strong.

When the two FBI special agents spotted Illinois license plate number 639-578, they began a chase that ended in a rapid thunder of gunfire, leaving them bullet-ridden with their targets fleeing in their government car. A nearby observer rushed to aid one of the wounded agents who whispered, “I’m a Federal officer. Help me, but take care of my partner first.”
Hours later both were dead.
The following day “Public Enemy Number 1” was also.
Nelson was next.
In April the 25-year old prison escapee had shot and killed an FBI agent, an act that put a $5,000 price tag on his head. He had devoted over half his life to crime and joined ranks with Dillinger in terrorizing the country.
It took Sam nearly six months to corner Nelson. Actually, it was two agents he had pulled off other cases to assist in the manhunt who first spotted Nelson, his wife, and a cohort in crime, John Paul Chase, as the three headed south on a highway near Fox River Grove, Illinois. The two turned to follow Nelson, who immediately spun his car around and began chasing the agents. Armed with only their service revolvers, the officers were no match for Nelson, who opened fire with a high-powered automatic rifle. The agents were forced to step on the gas and draw away. But one of their shots had found its mark on the gangster’s radiator, causing it to overheat and slow up.
Samuel Cowley hadn’t expected to find “Baby Face” Nelson under such conditions, but he immediately recognized the cars of both Nelson and the agents. Sam swung his car around to follow Nelson, who drove off the highway onto a side road. Both cars stopped. His car failing, Nelson was forced to shoot it out with the agents head on. Nelson and Chase took cover behind the stalled car; Nelson’s wife threw herself into a nearby ditch for protection.
Accompanying Sam was Special Agent H. E. Hollis, who unloaded ten shotgun cartridges before collapsing under fire. Sam discharged 50 shells from his machine gun before falling. Nelson, his wife, and Chase fled in the agents’ car.
Hollis was dead. Sam was taken to a nearby hospital where he required surgery, which he refused until he was able to meet with his boss, Melvin H. Purvis, head of the Chicago bureau of the department.
“Did you get Purvis? I must talk to Purvis before I die.”
Sam identified Nelson and the woman he believed to be his wife. He told Purvis he did not know the identity of the other man.
The following day the body of Nelson, with 17 bullets in it, was found abandoned in a roadside ditch. His wife was taken into custody two days later. Chase was picked up the following month.

At first I was frustrated with my siblings when they wouldn’t respond to my invitations. I became angry with them, and they started avoiding all talk on the subject of church. My dad helped me realize that isn’t what the Church is about. He reminded me, “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” I learned over time that I needed to love them as they are. I found little ways to serve them and show them I genuinely love them. Even though this did not win immediate results, they began to be more open to talk about the Church and were more receptive to my invitations when I showed them love.
Name withheld, Taiwan

As we faithfully seek information about ancestors with the purpose of performing temple ordinances, we’ll be exposed to events and impressions that will perceptibly show the Lord’s hand in this work. During the 1960s my wife’s grandfather, who served as a branch president in the southernmost part of Brazil, had collected many ancestors’ names, which were all in paper documents as there were no computers then. He was afraid that one of his 16 children would damage or lose those precious records, so he decided to keep them in his branch presidency’s office at the local chapel. But one day that meetinghouse was caught on fire and he lost all his family history. Years of work vanished in minutes! He and his family were deeply saddened but felt impressed to visit his relatives in Argentina in an attempt to recover some of the lost information. During those visits he was describing what happened and one of his uncles (who was not a member of the Church) asked to be excused for a moment and then came right back from another room with a stack of papers full of names, dates, and documents concerning all those that had been lost in the fire. For years, he said, “I felt compelled to keep this information without knowing why, but now it all makes sense. You can have all this!!”
Not only were all the names recovered but also many new ones were added. This event has caused all in the family to clearly discern that there was direct guidance from the Holy Ghost and that God knows the end from the beginning!

In 1962, during my missionary labors in Geneva, Switzerland, my companion and I were giving a missionary discussion to a man one evening. One of the major points of our discussion concerned the nature of God—that he is a physical being, in whose image we were created. Our host was fascinated by this concept and accepted it almost immediately. Our discussion was interrupted several times as his mind reflected on the doctrine and its many implications.
That experience was repeated many times on my mission and a number of times since. It is, in fact, an experience many missionaries have. Most Christian and Jewish sects believe in a God who is a spirit, devoid of passions and without form or body, who fills the universe and yet is not a part of it. Yet despite these official beliefs, our missionaries sometimes find that the “difficulty” in discussing the Godhead with other people is that they often agree so readily with the Latter-day Saint concept of God. Frequently, they are totally ignorant of their own churches’ teachings about God, and therefore do not see the necessity of the discussion. Their concept of God, it seems, comes from a reading of the Bible, together with basic logic.
This logic, however, can sometimes carry a person too far. It is only a few steps from the concept of a God with a physical body to that of a God lacking divine powers. This was the situation some years ago when it was proposed that God is a mere “spaceman” from another planet, whose fantastic space vehicle and other devices amazed the early Israelites and others. According to this scheme, there is no Creator, no divine plan, no Fall, and, of course, no Redemption.
We should be thankful, then, that the restored gospel, in harmony with the Bible, teaches us the true nature of our Father in Heaven, who loves us and wants us to become like him.
A few years ago as I was leaving Temple Square in Salt Lake City after a general conference session, I encountered a small group of people handing out anti-Mormon pamphlets. The leader of the group styled himself a “missionary to the Mormons.” I was interested to know why he spent his time in this way. Also, his pamphlets intrigued me, for they revealed that this man had very little knowledge of the Latter-day Saints’ true beliefs.
As I talked with him briefly, he pulled from his pocket a list of questions that he frequently asked members of the Church. “Is God a man?” he asked me confidently.
“No,” I replied, “God is not a man. It says so in the Bible.” (See Num. 23:19; 1 Sam. 15:29.)
“You’re the only Mormon who believes that,” he said. “Your church teaches that God is a man.”
“That’s not correct,” I countered. “Let me read to you from the Bible exactly what my church does teach.” I then quoted from Psalms 82:6, which reads: “Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High.”
“No,” I said, “God is not a man; man is a god—or, at least, so he may become. This is what Jesus said to the Jews in the tenth chapter of John when he quoted that very Psalm.” (See John 10:34–36.)
As I walked to my car after this unsuccessful encounter (the man soon left me to hand pamphlets to others), I thought of the many ways in which God’s true nature is distorted in the teachings of so many Christian churches. Joseph Smith taught that not only does God have a body, but that he “dwells in everlasting burnings.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1938, p. 361.) (This idea is found in a number of ancient sources as well.) But many—perhaps the majority—of churches teach that it is the devil who has a body (often pictured with horns, tail, and cloven hoof) and dwells in everlasting burnings. How often I have thought that Satan must surely enjoy the visual irony that much of Christianity has reversed his position with that of God! For the truth of the matter is that it is the devil who is but a spirit.
Thank God—the real God—for the teachings of the restored gospel.

“I had a great experience, and I loved my mission. The work was really going well there, and we had a lot of good missionaries,” Darrell says. “Of course, I wanted to play football after my mission, but I figured the Lord would take care of that. I had always wanted to play football, and somehow I knew it was going to work out.”
When Darrell’s mission was almost complete, he began thinking more and more about football. He knew the coaching staff at Northern Arizona had been fired, so he was an unknown commodity to the new coaching staff there. The great mystery in Darrell Bevell’s life was where he was going to go to college. Would he ever get to stand on the field and throw balls to open receivers? Would anybody offer him a scholarship?
One of his assistant coaches at Northern Arizona had taken a job as an assistant at the University of Wisconsin, and he remembered Darrell. In need of another quarterback in the program, the assistant got in contact with Darrell’s dad and asked if he thought his son would be interested in playing football in Wisconsin. Considering Wisconsin competes in one of the country’s top football conferences, and that it plays its home games in a 75,000-seat stadium, Darrell’s dad figured he might be able to persuade his son to check out the school.
After he finished his mission in October of 1991, Darrell made his recruiting trip to the University of Wisconsin and became convinced that was the place for him. “I basically decided then that I wanted to go there,” he says. He sat out the entire 1991 season and got ready for 1992.
During his freshman season of 1992, Darrell broke into the starting lineup in Wisconsin’s second game against Bowling Green State, and helped engineer a win over then number-12 ranked Ohio State in the Badgers’s fourth game. What made that victory all the better is that it was televised nationally by ESPN. Needless to say, a lot of people in Scottsdale, as well as those who knew him as Elder Bevell in Ohio, were crowded around their television sets. A shoulder injury hampered his play the remainder of the season, but he still completed 51 percent of his passes and threw for eight touchdowns. The future is extremely bright for Darrell as he prepares for his sophomore season. And the missionary work continues.

Huldah, her parents (Gardenar and Delecta Farrar Clark), and her five sisters were converted to the Church in New York. Driven from their homes by mobs, they joined the Saints migrating to the Salt Lake Valley. While traveling with the wagon train, Huldah met a young Scot, Richard Ballantyne, one of the officers of the pioneer company. Huldah and Richard grew to love each other. In Winter Quarters, Nebraska, on February 18, 1847, they were married by Heber C. Kimball.
The couple’s first home was a shack on the east bank of the Missouri River. When winter passed, the wagon train continued west. Huldah gave birth to their first child, Richard Alando, in their covered wagon on June 1, 1848.
Life was hard in the Great Salt Lake Valley. While Richard struggled in the fields to raise crops, Huldah worked inside, trying to stretch their meager supplies into enough food for their family. She learned to use sego lily roots, thistles, and weeds in preparing meals. Potatoes were mixed with flour to make bread.
Huldah and Richard fought storms, grasshoppers, and drought. Despite their constant work, they experienced repeated crop failures. Although they had barely enough to live on, Richard was inspired to start a Sunday School for the children of the valley. With Huldah’s help, he cleared land and built an adobe house. When he grew weary, Huldah quietly encouraged him and worked beside him. She helped him select music and lessons for the Sunday School. For over a year Sunday School was held every week in the Ballantyne home.
At a special conference held in Great Salt Lake City on August 28 and 29, 1852, Richard was called to serve a mission in Hindoostan (Hindustan), India. For four years the Ballantynes had been hungry. Their clothing was inadequate to protect them against the harsh winters; they had no money and little food. With Richard gone, life would be even harder. Yet Huldah did not hesitate in supporting her husband in this call. She immediately began to prepare clothing for Richard, darning his socks and scrubbing and mending his white shirts. When she discovered that his one suit was totally threadbare, she ripped out the seams of her best homespun skirt, made from material that she had woven and dyed herself. She took Richard’s measurements and carefully tailored a suit for him. That suit was to last him throughout his mission.
Richard was gone for three years. By herself, Huldah cared for their three small children, tilled the land, and made all of the family’s daily necessities. She carded wool and extracted dyes from roots, leaves, bark, vegetable peelings, and cochineal bugs. From beef and mutton tallow, she fashioned her own candles. Scraps of fat, rind, and meat trimmings were saved to make into soap. After soaking and drying potatoes, she grated them to use as starch.
Throughout her life, Huldah quietly loved and took care of her family. She did not serve a mission or even travel far from her own home after she settled in Utah. Yet her influence was deeply felt in the lives of her husband and nine children.

Once while I was in Tonga, I was traveling between islands to attend a district conference. Traveling with me were my wife, a translator, and the mission president and his wife. To get from island to island, the people travel by boat. This particular boat trip between Ha’apai and Ha’afeva took us four hours. When we arrived at Ha’afeva, the Saints were lining the shore and singing to us. We rolled up our pants, took off our shoes, and waded ashore.
We soon learned that the people there had been suffering because of a drought. In the islands, drinking water is collected in barrels from rainwater running off roofs. The islanders drink the water from the barrels. If it doesn’t rain, they’re out of drinking water, and their crops don’t grow either. They had been experiencing the drought for so long that they were out of water, and for dinner that afternoon, they shared with us the last of their food. I thought to myself, “What faith!” They had been fasting, and they asked if we would join them in a prayer for rain, which we did.
After the conference had ended and we prepared to leave, the people on the island prayed not only for rain, but they prayed that we would have good weather until we arrived back at our destination. We got into our boats and traveled back with good weather. But as we arrived at our final destination the heavens opened, and the islands were blessed with rain.

The ten members of the Toowoomba seminary invited their teacher and their parents to participate with them in baptisms for the dead. Since the Sydney Australia Temple is 1,100 kilometers (682 miles) away from Toowoomba, it is a rare opportunity for the youth to do temple work. After a 12-hour bus ride, despite sore muscles and weariness, the youth were eager to begin. Four days and four baptismal sessions later, the class had completed 981 baptisms for the dead.
Johanne Mutzelburg, the seminary class president, said, “This experience of being together as a class for four days brought us all closer together as a group.”
Johanne loves seminary. “I think it’s great to have friends in the gospel,” she says.

Even still, you may sometimes have a hard time. Here is a story that might help you about a Primary boy named Minchan Kim from South Korea. His family joined the Church about six years ago.
“One day at school, a few of my classmates were making fun of another student by calling him names. It looked like fun, so for a few weeks I joined in with them.
“Several weeks later, the boy told me even though he pretended he didn’t care, he was hurt by our words, and he cried every night. I almost cried when he told me. I felt very sorry and wanted to help him. The next day I went up to him and put my arm around his shoulder and apologized, saying, ‘I’m really sorry that I made fun of you.’ He nodded at my words, and his eyes filled up with tears.
“But the other kids were still making fun of him. Then I remembered what I learned in Primary class: choose the right. So I asked my classmates to stop. Most of them decided not to change, and they were mad at me. But one of the other boys said he was sorry, and the three of us became good friends.
“Even though a few people still made fun of him, he felt better because he had us.
“I chose the right by helping a friend in need.”
Isn’t this a good example for you to try to become like Jesus?

At the beginning of my cross country season, my team went to an invitational. An invitational is a very big race where hundreds of runners meet to race. As I prepared myself for my race, I noticed that the younger girls, mainly the freshmen and first-years, were watching me intently and asking all sorts of questions. They asked about why I always wore a headband in my hair. At the next meet they all had headbands! Then they noticed that I had an energy bar I would eat before my race. Believe it or not, at the next meet they all had energy bars, and they were the exact same flavor! At first it caught me off-guard because I wasn’t used to being the experienced one, and not too long ago I was doing the watching, trying to learn from the older kids who seemed to have so much knowledge and wisdom. This was a really interesting experience for me, and it was really quite cool. I felt like a celebrity.

Living in the deserts of Saudi Arabia are tribes of nomads called Bedouins. These people live in tents made of goat’s hair or wool, and they survive by keeping herds of sheep, goats, and camels. In one of these Bedouin tribes there once lived a very rich man. His name was Sheikh Bushnir, and he was the chief of his tribe.
One day Sheikh Bushnir became so ill with a fever that he thought he might die. It was true that he had a son to live on after him, but Ahmed, his son, was not a good man. He never tended the sheep or milked the goats, he was very greedy, and he was always spending his father’s money foolishly.
Even so, Sheikh Bushnir loved his son very much. One day the sheikh called his son to his bedside. “Ahmed,” he said weakly, “I am about to pass into the next life.”
Listening intently to his father’s words, Ahmed began to cry. Even though he was not a good man, he loved his father.
“Do not cry, my son,” said Sheikh Bushnir kindly. “All men—no matter how rich or great they are—must die. Now listen to what I have to say. Before I die, I want to give you a most wonderful gift.”
Ahmed wiped away his tears and moved closer to his father. “A gift?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered his father. “A most wonderful gift, a gift to be cherished above all others.”
“Is it worth more than a herd of camels?” asked Ahmed, his concern for his father replaced by his greed.
“It is worth much more than a herd of camels,” said his father.
“Is it worth more than gold or jewels?” asked Ahmed.
“More than even gold or jewels, my son. But the gift lies at the end of a long journey.”
Slowly Ahmed’s father spread out a map on the bed. The map was very wrinkled from having been folded and unfolded many times. “Here is where it is,” said Ahmed’s father as he pointed to a dark, round spot on the map.
“But that is in the middle of the Rub’ al Khali (Empty Quarter)!” gasped Ahmed.
“Yes,” said his father. “That is where the gift is buried.”
Ahmed looked sad as his father folded up the map. The Rub’ al Khali was a great desert where no one lived. Even for a Bedouin who was used to the hot desert, it would be a dangerous trip.
“Do you want the gift enough to risk your life for it?” asked his father.
Ahmed was silent for a long time. Finally his greed overcame his prudence. “Yes!” he cried. “For such a wonderful gift I will make the journey, no matter how dangerous it is.”
“Good,” said the sheikh. “You must leave at once. My mind will not rest until I know that you have made the journey and returned safely.”
“I shall do as you say,” said Ahmed, and he dashed from his father’s tent to make preparations.
The next morning Ahmed said good-bye to his father. Then he climbed onto his camel and set out alone into the desert. He knew that it would be safer to travel with one of the other young men from his tribe, but he did not want to share the wonderful gift with anyone.
The map outlined mile after mile of desert, but it revealed nothing about the burning sun and the hot desert winds. Whenever Ahmed thought of turning back, though, he remembered the wonderful gift waiting ahead, and his journey did not seem quite so harsh.
For three days Ahmed pushed deeper and deeper into the desert. His water was running low. He had been so anxious to leave that he had not planned well for the journey. Soon only one of his two goatskin bags of water remained. In the desert heat even a camel needs some water. But because Ahmed thought only of himself, he gave none of the water to his mount. That night while Ahmed slept, the camel ran off in search of water.
The next morning Ahmed realized that he should have shared the water with the camel. With the water that was left, Ahmed thought he might be able to make it back to the camp of a traveling caravan he had seen. However, his greed was too strong to allow him to go back without the gift, so he foolishly continued his journey on foot.
By the end of the fourth day Ahmed had used the rest of his water. He had only one wish: to see the wonderful gift before he died.
By the morning of the fifth day Ahmed was so weak that he could only crawl across the burning sand. Huge red blisters covered his hands and feet and knees. His eyes were almost swollen shut from the relentless pelting of the blowing sand. His lips were cracked and bleeding. Finally, when he thought he could go no farther, he came upon a small circle of stones. According to the map, this was where the gift lay buried!
Ahmed became frustrated as he scratched and clawed at the earth. Each time he pulled a handful of sand from the hole he was digging, more sand poured down from the sides. For hours he worked under the blistering sun. Finally Ahmed’s fingers touched a hard surface. He brushed the sand away and discovered a wooden chest. With his remaining strength, he tugged and pulled the chest from the hole.
Ahmed stared at the chest he had traveled so far to find. He was about to receive the most wonderful gift in the world, and he would not be able to enjoy it. As he fumbled with the latch on the chest, he thought, At least I can look at the gift I’ve given my life to find.
Ahmed began to cry when he saw what was in the chest. There were no jewels or golden coins. But there was something much more wonderful—three goatskin bags filled with water!
With gratitude and joy, Ahmed unstoppered one of the bags and brought it to his lips. Never before had water tasted so good. Never before had life seemed so sweet.
When he finished drinking, Ahmed looked more closely at the chest. Under one of the remaining goatskin bags was a note. He quickly opened it and read:
My Beloved Son,
I hope you are not disappointed by what you have found in the chest. I sent my men ahead of you to bury the priceless water. I knew that when I told you about the “wonderful gift,” you would rush foolishly into the desert. I also knew that because of your greed, you would give no thought for your life. That is why I buried water, not gold.
I did not lie to you, my son, when I told you of the wonderful gift. For the water in this chest has probably saved your life. And life, my son, is the most wonderful gift a man can receive.
Go now, Ahmed, with your gift of life and spend it as you like. Prize it above all other things, and you shall never be poor.
Love,
Your father
Ahmed carefully folded up the note and wiped the tears from his eyes. Feeling stronger, he tied the three goatskin bags together and tossed them over his shoulder.
Slowly Ahmed stood. He looked at the wooden chest one last time and smiled. Never again would he risk his life for gold or jewels. He would cherish his life and use it wisely. Yes, he had come a long way to find a gift that had always been his. But surely he was a richer man returning home than when he had left.

Dad and I went fishing for breakfast. The early sun rays had just peeked over the hills when I hooked something.
“You’ve caught the bottom of the lake,” Dad said.
But how could the bottom of the lake be moving around the canoe?
“It just seems like that because the canoe’s moving,” he said.
But since I was slowly reeling it up, we decided I must have snagged a piece of wood.
“But Dad,” I said, “if it’s a log, why is it jerking? Dad, it’s pulling the line back out!”
And the piece of wood swam underneath where Dad was sitting in the canoe.
As if not to scare the fish, Dad whispered, “Wow! You’ve only got four-pound test line! Better let some out and play with him awhile.”
The fish could easily snap the line. I would have to be careful and wear him out. I unreeled some line and waited.
“That’s the biggest mackinaw I’ve ever seen,” Dad said. “He’s longer than the canoe is wide.”
For what seemed like hours I let out line and reeled line in. Finally I eased the “mac” alongside the canoe, and, since we had no net, Dad reached down and slipped his finger inside the gills. I leaned to the other side to counterbalance Dad as he lifted the fish into the boat.
I felt a sudden lunge, heard a splash, and then heard a dreadful moan from Dad. I twisted around just in time to see a massive dark green shape swim away. Dad slowly sank to the bottom of the canoe and stared blankly at the water.
“Kev,” he said, “you caught the biggest fish I’ve ever seen, and I let it get away.”
My momentary anger quickly caved in. Dad was hurting all right. But he was hurting for me. When he realized how big that fish was, he could have taken over and reeled it in himself. It was, after all, his pole, his lure, his line. But no, he gave me the chance and now was in pain because forces beyond my control had deprived me. He said he was sorry, and eventually we laughed about it and went on to catch other fish.
But something was frozen on that day in July when the fish swam away from the boat. A moment in time was frozen in my memory, a moment when I learned that my dad is also my buddy, and that he cares very much what happens to me.

Cody Cart knew when he was only four years old that he wanted to be an astronaut. He had a little bank shaped like a spaceship that he put his tithing money in, and each time he dropped in a penny, a light would go on as if the rockets were firing. As he grew older, his school friends kidded him about being a spaceman, but Cody was serious. Those were the days of the birth of the manned space program, and he listened to every minute of every flight.
Naturally, his twin interest was astronomy. He received a telescope for Christmas and began getting up at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning to look at the stars. “The night sky always fascinated me,” he said. “The whole universe is God’s creation, but we don’t know very much about it. I have often thought that if there were another frontier left, I’d be out exploring it. But the only one left is outer space, and there’s only one way to get there—by becoming an astronaut.”
In school, Cody took all the science and electronics classes he could. “I didn’t think electronics had much to do with space exploration, but dad suggested it, and I loved it!” He became a finalist in a statewide electronics competition.
Part of Cody’s goal to become an astronaut included a goal to become an Air Force Academy cadet. As he progressed through high school, he counseled with his father and mother and prayed about each step along the way. He had three great goals in life. The first was to keep all the commandments of his Father in Heaven. The second was to serve a full-time mission. “All my life we have talked about a mission and the things pertaining to a mission. It was never ‘if you go on a mission’ but always ‘when you go.’” The third great goal was temple marriage.
“Every night before we went to sleep, mom or dad would come around to our beds and ask each of us in turn, ‘What do you want out of life? What do you want to do? What do you want to be?’ Those goal-setting sessions really helped me keep my head on straight. Every night I said those three things and sometimes others—like the astronaut plans—but always those three. We would talk about what I needed to do to achieve those goals, and then we would talk about any problems or questions I had.”
But two of Cody’s goals conflicted with each other. To go on a mission, he would have to resign from the academy after his first year—there was no such thing as a leave of absence for a mission. If he left, he was probably out of the program. To get back in, he would have to be renominated, and the mere fact of his resignation might work against him. What were the odds?
The preparations continued. Cody ran four or five miles each night to condition himself. As a junior, he spent one whole day taking college entrance exams, including the ACT (American College Test), SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test), an Air Force engineering aptitude examination, and a physical fitness test. He was also interviewed and appraised for leadership potential.
The first year at the academy wasn’t spent just waiting for a mission call. “It was hard,” he remembers. “After the first four months I started asking myself ‘Is this what I want to do in life?’ But then I would think back to the confirmations I had received through the Holy Ghost. I knew I was doing things, as President Kimball says, in their proper season and order, and I prayed, and the plan was reconfirmed. I knew I was right where I should be, and that really helped me.”
As the first year drew to a close, Cody had to reaffirm in his own mind his decision to go on a mission. To survive the toughest year in the academy and then give it all up took a lot of courage. And it might also mean abandoning his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. “But I had already made the decision to resign eight years earlier. I had no doubt what I was going to do even though I agonized over it.”
In March, during spring break, Cody had his mission interviews with his bishop and stake president. At the end of the summer, following SERE training (survival, evasion, resistance, and escape), he resigned. As with any cadet who asks to leave the academy, he was sent to interviews with several different counselors and officers.
“All of them would drill me at first,” Cody said, “but as soon as I told them my reasons for resigning, their attitude changed. They all expressed their respect for the LDS people they knew, and when I told them I was going to try to come back, which was something of a shock in itself, they said fine.” His written statement included a full explanation of what a mission is and why he wanted to serve a mission.
The officer who had to sign the paper as a witness commented, “I’ve never read anything like that before in my life. Is that really what you believe?”
“I sure do,” Cody replied.
“A lot of them didn’t understand,” Cody explains, “but they accepted my explanation. They were feeling something they’d rarely felt before.” In May Cody received his call to the Switzerland Zurich Mission. He entered the Missionary Training Center in August. Concentrating on studies was second nature, and obedience was ingrained. “I wanted to use my time wisely because I knew I was paying a price for my mission,” he said.
At first the thought of not being readmitted hung over him, but the time finally came when he stopped worrying and left it in the hands of the Lord. Besides missionary work presented its own challenges. “For the first six or seven months, I found myself going through the motions. I knew the Church was true and that the work was important, but I didn’t love it as I should. My academy experience came to my aid. I was used to doing difficult things. I worked hard and prayed every day that the work would become a joy instead of a burden. In the course of about a week, the whole thing turned around. Suddenly I was happier; I was working out of desire, not just duty. I knew my mission would be worth it even if I never got accepted back into the academy.”
Then a letter from home told Cody that Ted Parsons, another cadet who had resigned from the academy to serve a mission, had been readmitted! Maybe there was a chance after all!
Cody took the necessary exams at a U.S. military installation. “My mission president gave me a blessing. He told me I had served an honorable mission and that the Lord would help me accomplish what I needed to.”
Shortly after the blessing, Cody had a head-on bicycle collision, shattering his nose on the handlebar. “Qualifications at the academy are stringent. With an impact like that you would normally lose pilot qualification. If I had hit my eye or forehead or even my teeth, it would probably have disqualified me.” Cody is convinced he was protected.
When the test results arrived, they showed a score higher than the first time Cody applied for admission, which was advantageous because the competition was tougher.
“I had done everything I could. I made sure my end of things was in order. I wasn’t expecting the Lord to meet me more than halfway. Then I left it up to him,” Cody said.
Cody was renominated by his state senator. His faith had paid off. Two weeks after returning from Switzerland and two years after leaving Colorado Springs, Colorado, Cody Carr entered the Air Force Academy once more. His dream of being an astronaut was fully intact, along with his other goals of keeping the commandments, marrying in the temple, and being a lifelong missionary.

3. Prayerfully decide who you are going to help.
Mr. and Mrs. Ward Roney, well known in the community as active members of the Catholic church, might have rejected the offer of help from Latter-day Saints. However, the Roneys and Brother and Sister Dazey and their family had been carefully, and prayerfully chosen. When a stake high councilor approached Mr. Roney and suggested replacing a barn that was destroyed by a storm, he was overwhelmed. As a result of the stake youths’ efforts, the Roney family allowed their daughter to attend stake girls’ camp, invited the stake to hold activities at their farm, and set up a scholarship fund for stake youth.

I was so excited to read “Conver(t)sation” by Laird Roberts in the October New Era. When I read “The best way to get someone interested in the Church is to be friends with him,” it really hit home. My best friend, Diane, is responsible for my conversion. Thanks to her loving patience and friendship, I am now a member of the Church. We were close friends for about four years before I was baptized, and in that time she never once passed judgment on my actions or tried to force the Church on me. When the time was right, she made an appointment for me to have the missionary discussions. She sat through every discussion with me. Her entire family became involved, and her older brother helped teach me the gospel. He confirmed me a member of the Church and recently left on a mission. What a choice experience my baptism was for me! Since my baptism, Diane’s been the perfect example, and we’ve become even closer friends. I am so thankful for her and her family. In fact, they even subscribed to the New Era for me. It is because they took the time to care and offer friendship that I am now a member of the Church.
Becki LeDouxSacramento, California

Renisha has also had chances to share the gospel with her school friends. One day, she was talking with her group when another girl joined and said she had heard something strange about the Church. One of the girls pointed to Renisha and said, “She’s a Mormon.” Renisha felt a little nervous, but the group wanted to learn more, so she explained what she believed. “There are so many untrue things about the Church on social media,” she said. “But I was able to share my testimony, and they understood better who we are and what we stand for.”