Gospel Story Finder

The branch president of the Kingston Branch of the Church wore his own identifying label. Gustav Wacker was from the old country. He spoke English with a thick accent. He never owned or drove a car. He plied the trade of a barber. The highlight of his day would be when he had the privilege of cutting the hair of a missionary. Never would there be a charge. Indeed, he would reach deep into his pockets and give the missionaries all of his tips for the day. If it were raining, as it often does in Kingston, President Wacker would call a taxi and send the missionaries to their apartment by taxi, while he himself, at day’s end, would lock the small shop and walk home—in the driving rain.
I first met Gustav Wacker when I noticed that his tithing paid was far in excess of that expected from his potential income. My efforts to explain that the Lord required no more than 10 percent as tithing fell on attentive but unconvinced ears. He simply responded that he loved to pay all he could to the Lord. It amounted to about half his income. His dear wife felt exactly as he did. Their unique manner of tithing payment continued throughout their earning lives.
Gustav and Margarete Wacker established a home that was a heaven. They were not blessed with children but mothered and fathered their many Church visitors. A sophisticated and learned leader from Ottawa told me, “I like to visit President Wacker. I come away refreshed in spirit and determined to ever live close to the Lord.”
Did our Heavenly Father honor such abiding faith? The branch prospered. The membership outgrew the rented Slovakian Hall and moved into a modern and lovely chapel of their own. President and Sister Wacker had their prayers answered by serving a proselyting mission to their native Germany and later a temple mission to the beautiful temple in Washington, D.C. Then, after his mission in mortality was concluded, Gustav Wacker passed away peacefully while being held in the loving arms of his eternal companion. Only one label appears fitting for such an obedient and faithful servant: “Who honors God, God honors.”10

My family had a similar experience. My two faithful brothers, wonderful sister, and I were raised by exemplary parents. We were taught the gospel in our home, we successfully made it to adulthood, and all four of us were sealed in the temple to our spouses. However, in 1994 our sister, Susan, became disenchanted with the Church and some of its teachings. She was persuaded by those who mocked and criticized the early leaders of the Church. She allowed her faith in living prophets and apostles to diminish. Over time, her doubts overcame her faith, and she chose to leave the Church. Susan has given me permission to share her story with the hope that it might help others.
My brothers and I and our widowed mother were devastated. We couldn’t imagine what possibly could have led her to abandon her faith. My sister’s choices seemed to be breaking our mother’s heart.
My brothers and I had served as bishops and quorum presidents, and we had experienced the joy of success with ward and quorum members as we left the ninety and nine and went after the one. However, with our sister, our persistent efforts to rescue her and to invite her back only pushed her further and further away.
As we sought heavenly guidance as to how we might properly respond to her, it became evident that we had to follow the example of the father in the parable of the prodigal son. Susan had made her choice, and we had to figuratively let her go—but not without her knowing and feeling our sincere love for her. And so, with renewed love and kindness, we watched and we waited.
My mother never stopped loving and caring for Susan. Every time my mother attended the temple, she placed Susan’s name on the prayer roll and never lost hope. My older brother and his wife, who lived closest to Susan in California, invited her to all family events. They prepared dinner in their home each year on Susan’s birthday. They made sure they were always in touch with her and that she knew of their genuine love for her.
My younger brother and his wife reached out to Susan’s children in Utah and cared for them and loved them. They made sure that her children were always invited to family gatherings, and when it came time for Susan’s granddaughter to be baptized, my brother was there to perform the ordinance. Susan also had loving home teachers and visiting teachers who never gave up.
As our children went on missions and were married, Susan was invited to and attended these family celebrations. We tried diligently to create family events so that Susan and her children could be with us and they would know that we loved them and that they were part of our family. As Susan received an advanced degree at a California university, we were all there to support her at her graduation. Although we could not embrace all of her choices, we could certainly embrace her. We loved, we watched, and we waited.
In 2006, after 12 years had passed since Susan left the Church, our daughter Katy moved with her husband to California so he could attend law school. They were in the same city as Susan. This young couple looked to their aunt Susan for help and support, and they loved her. Susan helped care for our two-year-old granddaughter, Lucy, and Susan found herself helping Lucy with her nightly prayers. Katy called me one day and asked if I thought Susan would ever come back to the Church. I assured her that I felt she would and that we needed to continue to be patient. As another three years passed, with continued love, we watched and we waited.
Six years ago this weekend, my wife, Marcia, and I were sitting on the front row of this Conference Center. I was to be sustained as a new General Authority that day. Marcia, who is always in touch with the Spirit, had written a note to me that read, “I think it is time for Susan to come back.” My daughter Katy suggested that I leave and call Susan to invite her to watch general conference that day.
Prompted by these two great women, I walked to the foyer and called my sister. I got her voice mail and simply invited her to watch that session of general conference. She got the message. To our delight, she felt impressed to watch all the sessions of conference. She heard from prophets and apostles she had loved in earlier years. She found new names she had not heard before, such as President Uchtdorf and Elders Bednar, Cook, Christofferson, and Andersen. During this and other unique heaven-sent experiences, my sister—like the prodigal son—came to herself (see Luke 15:17). The words of prophets and apostles and the love of her family moved her to turn and begin the walk back home. After 15 years our daughter and sister who was lost had been found. The watch and the wait were over.
Susan describes this experience just as Lehi described it in the Book of Mormon. She let go of the iron rod and found herself in a mist of darkness (see 1 Nephi 8:23). She states that she did not know she was lost until her faith was reawakened by the Light of Christ, which brightly magnified the stark contrast between what she was experiencing in the world and what the Lord and her family were offering.
A miracle has occurred over the past six years. Susan has a renewed testimony of the Book of Mormon. She has received her temple recommend. She has served as an ordinance worker in the temple, and she currently teaches the Gospel Doctrine class in her ward. The windows of heaven have opened to her children and her grandchildren, and although there have been difficult consequences, it feels as if she never left.

It was a wintry Sunday morning in northern New York. The temperature was several degrees below freezing. The walks were icy; roads were blocked with heavy snowdrifts. No one came to church that morning except the minister and an 89-year-old woman, who had hobbled ten blocks from where she lived.
Surprised at seeing her, the minister called her by name and asked: “How did you get here on such a stormy morning?”
“My heart gets here first,” was the cheerful reply, “and then it’s easy for the rest of me.” (Quote, January 26, 1973, p. 5.)

A boy named Stan related the following experience to me. One summer afternoon his younger brother was involved in an accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. Immediately after the accident, friends of both boys, as well as ward members, were very supportive and attentive. Within a few weeks, however, the visits and offers to help became fewer and fewer. Before long Stan, his brother, and other members of the family felt isolated because of the tragedy. A few short weeks were simply not enough time for them to come to terms with the new and difficult realities that confronted them individually and as a family. Continued support from caring friends would have been truly appreciated.

When I was a small boy, each December my father would take us all across the street to the home of Bishop Duncan for tithing settlement. The bishop did not have an office in the ward building, and so he had to conduct business in his home. We would all sit in his living room and, one by one, he would invite us into the dining room. Our tithing might be 25 cents, or maybe 50 cents, but it was a full tithing. He wrote out a receipt and recorded the amount in the ward record. The amount may have been so small that it cost more to record it than it was worth. But it established a habit which continued through all of these years. With the payment of tithing have come innumerable blessings as the Lord has promised.

Why is it that the most impoverished seem to know best how to thank the Lord? In the highlands of Guatemala, members barely subsist. Going to the temple requires great sacrifice. A visit takes a year of preparation. There is hard work, sacrifice to save money and food, the spinning, dyeing, and weaving of new clothing. There is the long, barefoot walk out of the mountains, the crossing of Lake Isabel, the bus rides with little food. Tired and worn, they arrive at the temple. They scrub until they shine, dress in their new clothing, and enter the house of the Lord.
Reclothed in white, they are taught by the Spirit, receive ordinances, and make covenants. One highland woman was greatly touched by the spirit and meaning of the endowment. Entering the celestial room, she saw others seated, with heads reverently bowed. Innocently, she knelt at the entrance to the room, oblivious to others. She bowed her head, sobbed, and for twenty minutes poured out her heart to her Father in Heaven. Finally, with her dress soaked with tears, she raised her head. The sensitive temple matron asked, “May I help?” She responded, “Oh, would you? This is my problem: I’ve tried to tell Father in Heaven of my gratitude for all of my blessings, but I don’t feel that I’ve communicated. Will you help me tell Him how grateful I am?”

After I completed my studies at the English Language Center, I was accepted at several universities. I decided to attend Brigham Young University–Idaho and apply for the nursing program. I heard that it was very difficult to get into the program, especially for international students. So I studied my hardest. My friends teased me, saying I should move into the library because I spent so much time there. Even when it closed, I went home and kept studying.
When times were difficult, I remembered the words of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008): “You need all the education you can get. Sacrifice a car; sacrifice anything that is needed to be sacrificed to qualify yourselves to do the work of the world.”1 I knew those were the words of a prophet of God, and I took them seriously.
When I was accepted to the nursing program, my heart filled with gratitude and happiness. I knew it would be hard and I would have to continue to make sacrifices, but I knew the Lord would be with me.

“When we got on the plane,” Brother Naga says, “I had 102 New Zealand dollars in my pocket. That was all our money. We didn’t know how we were going to pay our living expenses for the two weeks we would be in New Zealand.”
But Church members met the Nagas at the airport, arranged for lodging in a member’s home, and provided food and transportation.
“After we came back from the temple, the Lord blessed us,” Brother Naga says. “Not only were we able to buy furniture, we were able to extend our house.”

It wasn’t until she attended preschool that Alba first started learning English. Even though she was very young, she remembers how frustrating it was at times. But she picked up the language quickly.

When kindergarten started, Alba’s teacher knew she was bilingual, so she assigned her a seat next to a boy who couldn’t speak any English. She asked Alba to translate basic phrases for him such as “write your name here.”

One day, a mother who couldn’t speak any English stopped by the office. The staff could not find anyone in the whole school to interpret for her. When Alba’s teacher learned of the dilemma, she immediately recommended her five-year-old interpreter. From then on—from parent-teacher conferences to phone calls—the school asked young Alba for help whenever they needed an interpreter.

“At least three times a week they would call me out of class,” she says. “It was exciting for me. I felt special,” she said with a laugh, “and I could get out of class.”

Thousands of young people throughout the Church are actively participating in bishop’s youth committees. The film “Making a Better World” was recently produced under the direction of the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve to illustrate how a bishop’s youth committee can work to assist people who need help. Here is a mini-version of some scenes from the film.
Nick is pretty well fed up with the establishment. Sometimes he feels like chucking the whole works and joining a commune like his cousin Ron. Nick has been active in the Church all his life, but, as he says to the bishop, “If the Church is where it’s at, then how come we’re not doing more?”
He leaves himself wide open. And the bishop invites him to be a leader on the bishop’s youth committee, which he describes as “a special tool to channel all those energies into making better lives, making a better world.”
Nick thinks it over.
NICK: “Quite a few kids at school are doing dope. Kurt’s one of them. And I can see why—his folks fight all the time; they’re really messed up.”
BISHOP: “There’s your challenge. If you want to do something for the world, why don’t you start with the Robins family? See what you and the bishop’s youth committee can do.”
Nick and the committee accept the challenge. They find Kurt has other problems too.
KURT: “I don’t think I’ve heard my mom and dad ever say they love me. Ever.”
NICK: “Have you ever said it to them?” He’s learning.
A successful cottage meeting in the Robins home brings a heartwarming response from a family who thought no one cared.
Nick’s reaction: “Up until now the Church has been like sort of a play I was watching—really nice, you know, but no big deal. But tonight I’m in the play. I’m part of it.”
This brief synopsis hardly explains why so many youth audiences are in tears at the end of the film. We suggest you see it for yourself.

When I was a little girl, I noticed that my grandfather kept a picture of a young man on his desk. The young man was not especially handsome, nor was he a relative that I knew of. I didn’t think that he was anyone famous, either, but I knew that he must be someone very important to hold such a place of honor. So one day I asked my grandmother, “Who is that man in the picture?”
My grandmother stopped dusting, and a tender smile lit up her face. She gently touched the frame and answered, “He is the missionary who taught Papa about the gospel.”
I wondered at the reverent expression in her voice. I knew that Papa had joined the Church many years ago, after he had married my grandmother. She had grown up in the Church.
But that was such a long time ago! I thought. And they still remember it!
Though my grandparents moved many times, they always took the picture with them. And they always placed it once again where they could look at it every day and remember lovingly the young man who cared enough to share some of his life and his testimony.
Several years ago, my grandparents passed away. I’m sure they took the picture with them in their hearts.

One of the ways Heavenly Father helps us find happiness is through righteous parents and Church leaders. They see things differently than we do, and we must listen to them and obey them. Once a group of young men went to a lake. They took a bow and ten arrows with them and decided to shoot at birds flying overhead. Each time they aimed at a bird and shot, they missed. The bird flew away, and the arrow fell harmlessly into the lake.

After they had shot the last arrow, one boy decided to swim to the middle of the lake to retrieve the arrow. He dove in and headed toward it. He got it and then turned back to swim for shore. By this time he was extremely tired. His wet clothing weighed him down. Holding the arrow in his hand made swimming very difficult. He began to fear that he might drown, and he called out desperately to his friends for help.

“Put your feet down and walk to shore,” they called back to him. He couldn’t see things clearly, but his friends, who were looking at things from the shore, knew that he was in shallow water. All he had to do was stand up, and he would be safe.

When the newly formed Lakeland Florida Stake issued the challenge to hold a Young Women basketball tournament, the Lake Wales Branch rose to the opportunity. But they had a problem. They didn’t have enough active girls in their Young Women program to fill the five positions on the playing floor. And having a couple of substitutes wouldn’t hurt.
The girls and coaches began asking friends and inactive members to join them. The girls were told that if they didn’t have fun, they didn’t have to stay. A team of eight was formed and practices began. Soon the girls learned the meaning of phrases like “set up” and “fast break” and learned to dribble without using both hands.
With determination and hard work, the Lake Wales Branch had a basketball team. At the stake tournament, their skills were challenged. It was the first time they had played together on an indoor court, and they had some trouble getting used to having confining walls.
At the end of the tournament, the Lake Wales team came out on top. They were the first Lakeland Stake champions. The experience of playing together and fellowshipping has made them winners.

Eric was different from the other children and he knew it. But he wasn’t sure whether he liked being different. He often thought about it when he woke up early in the morning and had to stay in bed and be quiet so he wouldn’t wake up his brothers. Sometimes he would turn on his lamp and read. Other times he would lie in the dark and listen to the cars and trucks whizzing by on the highway or to the roosters crowing. Then he would think about how far away the cars and the rooster were and why he could hear them so well in the morning, when he never even noticed them in the daytime while he played.
Sometimes Eric would think about his curly red hair and how the other children called him “Red, Red, the Fire Head” and how he had to share a room with his three brothers instead of having a room all by himself like his friend Andy Rogers. Those were times he didn’t like being different.
It wasn’t just his red hair and waking up early that made Eric different. And it wasn’t just having seven brothers and sisters when his friends had only one or two.
Eric was the only one in his school class who went to Primary and the only one in his neighborhood who couldn’t play boisterous games on Sunday.
Mostly, Eric decided, it wasn’t much fun to be different, but lately he was thinking about something else. In two weeks it would be his birthday and he’d be eight years old. Sometimes when he’d wake up in the mornings, he’d think about being baptized. He tried to imagine how it would be when he put on the white clothes and walked down the steps into the water. He could picture his dad standing in the water waiting for him and holding out his hand for Eric to take. This thought made Eric feel good.
One day on the way home from school Eric talked to Andy about being baptized. “Are you going to be baptized when you’re eight?” he asked his friend.
“I don’t think so,” Andy replied. “I don’t know much about those things.” Eric thought, I am different again!
Then Andy asked, “Will you be baptized when you’re eight?”
Eric looked at Andy for a moment and decided, Andy won’t tease me if I tell him about it because he’s a good friend. “Yes, I will,” Eric answered. “In two weeks it will be my eighth birthday. And that’s old enough to be baptized. I can hardly wait.”
Then an exciting idea came to Eric. “Andy,” he asked, “would you like to come to my baptism. My dad’s going to baptize me. I get to wear all white clothes and sit on the front row with my dad. You could come and bring your dad, too, if you’d like.”
When Eric’s baptism date finally came, his whole family went with him. Andy and Andy’s dad, Mr. Rogers, were there too.
Before the baptism all the people participated in a brief service. First there was a song and then a talk about Jesus being baptized and about the importance of following Him.
Jesus was different too, Eric realized. It was a very comforting thought.
When it was time to be baptized, everything happened just like Eric had imagined. But now he could really feel Dad’s strong hand reach out for his. He could feel the cool water pushing softly against his waist. For a few minutes Eric didn’t think of anything at all except the sound of his dad’s voice and the warmth of his dad’s hand and the cool water all around him.
After the baptism and after he and Dad had changed clothes, Eric shook hands with everyone and his mother gave him a tight hug. Then Eric and his dad walked to the back of the room to see Andy and Mr. Rogers, who were both looking pleased. Dad shook hands with Mr. Rogers and said, “Thanks for coming, Frank.”
Mr. Rogers waited a moment before he answered. “It was my pleasure,” he said. “It was a lot different than I expected. I’m glad we were here to see it.”
Then he turned to Eric and shook his hand. And Eric knew that something very important had happened not only to him but to Andy and his father too. And then Eric knew that in some ways it was good to be different.

Five or six hundred of these last Saints crossed the Mississippi and camped on the riverbank in Iowa. They had only blankets and brush bowers for shelter. None of them had food for more than a few days, and many were very sick. Of all the Saints, these suffered the most.
On October 9, a miracle occurred. Flocks of quail flew into the camps, landing on the ground and even on the tables. The hungry Saints were able to catch the birds. The meat saved many people from starving and stirred their hearts as they realized that the Lord was caring for them.
Their fellow Saints had not forgotten them either. Many came back from the Missouri River to help. Others went into neighboring cities to seek money to aid the poor and sick. In the end, the refugees were rescued and divided among the various camps in Iowa, a few even reaching Winter Quarters.

I loved girls’ camp. I loved singing songs and dressing up in crazy outfits. I also loved the clear, crisp mornings and the bright stars at night. But most of all, I loved when my ward gathered around the campfire to have a testimony meeting. My testimony grew so much from those meetings.
The morning before my fifth time at camp, I woke up with a splitting headache. I sat up with a groan and rubbed my forehead to try to ease the pain. I felt achy and dizzy. I had chills even though I was still under my covers. I was sick. There was no way I could go into the mountains sick. But I couldn’t miss camp! A feeling of frustration swept over me.
All morning long, I restlessly drifted in and out of sleep while my family was at church. Periodically, I would say a little prayer in my heart asking Heavenly Father to help me find a way to be able to go to camp. Suddenly, I felt a strong impression that I should ask my father for a blessing. I felt a growing warmth in my heart, and I knew that through the power of the priesthood I would be made well enough to attend camp. Knowing that Heavenly Father loved me and was mindful of my concerns allowed me to rest a little easier.
A few hours later, my dad and my bishop gave me a priesthood blessing. As they laid their hands on my head, I could feel Heavenly Father’s love. As my father spoke the words of the blessing, he promised I would be healed according to my faith. My heart swelled with confidence and gratitude for the feeling of assurance that had been given to me earlier that day.
That same gratitude overwhelmed me the next Friday as the young women of my ward surrounded the campfire for a testimony meeting. I bore witness of how mindful God is of all of His children. I told the young women that, because of my experience, I had a testimony of the power of faith and that Heavenly Father wants us to know and have confidence in His will and His promises.

While on a trip with my family from Nevada, USA, to Alaska, USA, I struck up a conversation with a tall, attractive, friendly lady across the aisle.
She asked me where I was going, and I told her we were heading to Juneau, Alaska, to visit our son and his family. She told me she was from Las Vegas. Then, becoming emotional, she added that she was going to Juneau to visit her in-laws to have a memorial service for her husband, to whom she had been married for 20 years. He had recently passed away from cancer.
I looked across the aisle and thought to myself how fortunate I was to know the plan of salvation and to be a temple worker in the Las Vegas Nevada Temple. I wondered what I could do for this woman to lift her spirits.
Suddenly, as clear as a bell, I remembered a quote by the Prophet Joseph Smith I had handed out in Relief Society. When he organized the Relief Society, he observed that the sisters “will fly to the relief of the stranger; they will pour in oil and wine to the wounded heart of the distressed; they will dry up the tears of the orphan and make the widow’s heart to rejoice” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith [2007], 452).
I looked across the aisle once more. I saw a stranger in distress, a widow with a wounded heart. I remembered that I had read the July 2011 Ensign earlier that day. It contained some uplifting articles I thought might give her some encouragement and comfort.
I gathered my courage, opened the magazine to an article, and asked her to read it. I watched her closely and was surprised that she read every single line—intently. When she had finished, she read another article.
Evidently something she had read touched her heart. She hugged the magazine tightly against her chest and then wiped a tear from her eye.
“Where can I get a magazine like this?” she asked me. I told her she could keep it. Then she read some more.
When we arrived in Juneau, she grabbed my hand, looked straight into my eyes, and said, “Thank you.”
I learned a great lesson from that experience. We are surrounded by strangers with wounded hearts who need a kind word of encouragement and who need to know what we as Latter-day Saints know.

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.
“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.
“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”
Prince received his answer.
“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

A missionary and his companion knocked on the door of an investigator to whom they had given a Book of Mormon. As the elderly woman answered the door, the missionary felt a powerful feeling flood over him. The woman welcomed the missionaries and explained that she had read and believed what they had taught her. The young missionary was so affected by the feeling he felt that he prayed, “Dear Father, please let me never forget the feeling I have felt today.”

Some years ago, I found an article in a local newspaper so intriguing that I saved it. The front-page headline read, “Determined Dog Won’t Abandon Lost Sheep.”14 This article describes a small number of sheep belonging to an operation not far from my friend’s property that were somehow left behind in their summer range. Two or three months later, they became stranded and snowbound in the mountains. When the sheep were left behind, the sheepdog stayed with them, for it was his duty to look after and protect the sheep. He would not go off watch! There he remained—circling about the lost sheep for months in the cold and snowy weather, serving as a protection against coyotes, mountain lions, or any other predator that would harm the sheep. He stayed there until he was able to lead or herd the sheep back to the safety of the shepherd and the flock. The image captured on the front page of this article allows one to see character in the eyes and demeanor of this sheepdog.