Gospel Story Finder

My grandma was driving and I was in the passenger seat playing a game on my phone when suddenly my grandma shouted, “Oh no!” I looked up and saw a truck bouncing again and again against the guardrail along the side of the road, as if the driver were steering directly into it. We could have just passed the truck and kept driving, but instead, we followed at a safe distance to see where the truck would eventually stop. We watched in horror as it eventually veered off the road and down a slope, finally coming to a stop.
I called the emergency number. Once the ambulance was on the way, we went down to check on the driver. It was a young man. He couldn’t stand and said that he had not been feeling well all day and was trying to get home. We thought he’d had some type of seizure, so we stayed with him until the ambulance arrived.

The youth and adults of the Farmington Utah Stake presented an original musical production about the exasperation leading to the organization of the Primary. Entitled “Oh, Those Boys!”, the musical showed boys killing bats during Sunday School in the attic of the Church. A chorus of young girls sang the pleasures and responsibilities of being “at the end of the row.” (In early Primaries, older, well-behaved children were placed at the end of the row to set an example and control the other children.)

“Oh, Those Boys!” played two nights, and most of the audience went away informed, entertained, and amazed at the job the young people had done.

Often as a young girl I would accompany my bishop father to the church and wait until his meetings or interviews were over. I would busy myself by exploring. I knew every nook and cranny of that building. One of my favorite rooms was the tower room. It was a large room at the top of some steep steps. Inside there was a picture of the Savior, which hung over a large fireplace. I was always drawn to that room. I would ascend the steps and reverently go inside. I would sit on a chair and look at the picture of the Savior and pray to Heavenly Father. These were simple prayers. But always when I prayed, a very special feeling seemed to engulf me, and I knew that He heard my childlike prayers. This is where I began to believe.

When I was a teenager, I decided to invite the Savior into my life by being baptized and becoming a member of the Church. My friends were good examples to me. So was my grandmother. She was a temple worker in the Los Angeles California Temple. She would leave our house at 4:00 in the morning to serve the Lord in the temple.
Just two years after I was baptized, I decided I wanted to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary. On my mission, I helped many people learn about the Savior so that they could invite Him into their lives.

After graduation my summer job stole me from my new-found group of friends. I was employed at a gas station, where I was nearly starved by my co-workers’ lack of concern. I was depressed, unhappy, and alone.
One afternoon in July, Nese and a friend drove up to the station. Just seeing them boosted my morale. They were planning to sing in the Oakland Temple Pageant and invited me to attend.
I’ll always remember that special evening. It was the first time I heard the story of Joseph Smith and learned the history of the Latter-day Saints I had grown to admire. At the end of the pageant, the audience rose and sang “The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning.” How I wanted to know the words of the song so I could join the chorus! I felt completely full of respect and love.
The crowd left slowly. Standing in the parking lot, I looked up at the temple. A voice in the back of my mind told me that some day I would enter that building.
Eighteen months later, my impression that I would one day enter the Oakland Temple came true, as I received my endowments one week before leaving on a mission.

I once visited a charming town in Iceland. Right away, I noticed that the traffic lights were shaped like hearts! I asked about it and learned the story.
Years ago, people in Iceland were having a hard time. The town decided to do something to help people be happy again. They called it the “Smile with Your Heart” project. They changed the traffic lights and asked people to hang hearts from windows. The hearts helped everyone remember to love others and have hope.
One person told me the project was to help remind them to be kind to one another. They also said it helped them stop and think about what matters most in life.
This showed me that no act of kindness is too small. Something as simple as a heart-shaped traffic light can remind someone of their worth, give them hope, and help them get through another day.

As I mentioned, when my wife and I met in high school, like she said, we were high school sweethearts. I was a less-active member of the Church. I was the nightmare that a lot of bishops and branch presidents have in Hawaii. My mother went to church [but] I think I can count two times in my life that my mother came to church. My stepfather was not a member of the Church. My grandmother was very active, so my grandmother brought me to church. My grandmother had me baptized when I was eight years old, and I went to church with my grandmother every week.
When I was 15, for some reason I decided I didn't need to go to church anymore. I think I might have had... something called a girlfriend might have had an impact on that, but I decided that I wasn't going to go to church anymore. I just stopped going to church. My grandmother went faithfully, she encouraged me, asked me, scold[ed] me, whatever she could do to get me to go, and I just decided not to go. As I look back at that today, there wasn't a home teacher that came to my home and asked if anything was wrong and why I wasn't there. There wasn't a young men's leader who came and wondered why one of the most active members of his teachers' quorum suddenly stopped coming to church. I don't blame them for that. This was my decision, no one offended me, I was not hurt, I was not left out of anything. I just stopped coming to church.
Colleen and I were married, we started a family and in March of 1982, I was out playing basketball on a Tuesday night and our home teacher came by unannounced. Our home teacher was Brother Vance Akinaka. The Akinaka name may be familiar to you. I think four Akinaka's came to school here--Elias, Lea, Michael, and Sam were all students at BYU-Hawaii. But Brother Akinaka came to our home, and he was on a split with the missionaries. (We can't do splits anymore. That was a very popular thing back in those days. So the two home teachers would meet with the elders and one home teacher would go with one elder, and the other home teacher with the other elder, and they'd do splits.) Brother Akinaka came to our home that night with an elder, Elder Paul Larson from California.
My wife had always been afraid of missionaries, something about the white shirt, tie, and nametag that was kind of intimidating to her. She was born and raised as a Buddhist, didn't know much about the Church. Had some seeds planted in her life of the gospel, but not many. They came that night and she was impressed as this young missionary talked about home, family, sports, surfing, high school, and then talked about his love for his Savior, Jesus Christ, talked about a Heavenly Father who loved him and loved her and our family, talked about a plan of happiness and said something that our family could be together forever. That struck a chord with her. So when Elder Larson said, "Well, Sister Wunder, is it okay if we come by sometime?" she said, "Oh, sure, that would be fine." The next night they were back.
Elder Larson [and] his companion Elder Parsons began teaching our family the missionary discussions. We went to church. The first Sunday... was April 14, 1982, and I remember that because it was a fast Sunday. The missionaries said, "Why don't you come to church on Sunday, Sister Wunder? It's a fast Sunday and we'd like to invite you." And I said, "Oh! You don't want to go to church on fast Sunday! The old ladies go up, and they sing these songs, and they cry--you don't want to that." And she said, "No, I'd like to try this and see what it's about."
We went to church on fast Sunday. I remember as they sang the opening hymn, the opening hymn was... "Beautiful Zion, Built Above" (Hymns, number 44). As they sang that song, I felt the Spirit, and for the first time in my life recognized the promptings of the Spirit. I leaned over to Colleen and I said, "You know what, I don't know where your lessons with the missionaries are going to go, but this is where I need to be."
My wife was a golden investigator. The missionaries joked with her and said, "You can't get baptized 'til you read the entire Book of Mormon." She went to them one day and said, "I've read the Book of Mormon. I'd like to get baptized." On June the 6th, 1982, Colleen was baptized. On July 27, 1983, our family came to the Laie Temple and we were sealed for time and all eternity.
The gospel has been a major part of our life ever since. She mentioned that our older son Ray served his mission in the Japan Tokyo South Mission. He returned here, to BYU-Hawaii, met his wife Jenny here. They got married and sealed in the Laie Temple, graduated from BYU-Hawaii. He went on to get his master's degree at the "other" BYU up in Utah. They currently live in Stockton, California. They have a four-year-old daughter, twin five-month-old sons. He served as the elders' quorum president in his ward for nearly three years. When the twins were born his bishop said, "You know, Ray, we're concerned about you. We think you're working too hard. We'll give you an easier calling." So they called him to be a counselor in the young men's presidency. So he's out of the frying pan and into the fire, but continuing to serve well.
Our second son, Kelii, went to BYU [in] Provo, served his mission in Kobe, Japan, returned to BYU [in] Provo, met his wife, Evelyn. They were sealed in the Mount Timpanogos Temple. They have one and one-half children--a little two-year-old and a baby on the way. We're excited for them. He's the elders' quorum president in his ward. We visited them back in December, and I was impressed with his commitment to his calling. One night we couldn't find him. It was 9 o'clock at night. We couldn't find him, and I went outside. There was six feet of snow, it was about 12 degrees, and he was shoveling his neighbor's walk. His neighbor didn't have a husband in the home, and if he didn't do it, the nine-year-old daughter would have had to do it the next morning. So he was out there, the elders' quorum president, a non-member home, shoveling their walk.Our fourth child is our daughter, Becky. She is a chemical engineering major at BYU [in] Provo. She did not serve a mission. She received a call and met up with her eternal companion. They're on their "team-up" right now. They were married in the Mount Timanogos Temple on December 27, last year. Becky's husband is a returned missionary. He served his mission in Manchester, England. They were just called as team-teachers for a primary class.
Each of our children in their lives have been great examples of the gospel. On their missions, Kelii and Ray baptized people, strengthened less-active, and have been great examples.
Our third son, Kevin, was a student at BYU [in] Provo, and he was called to the California Oakland Mission. He was so thrilled to not to go to Japan like his brothers. I don't know why he felt that way, but he wanted to go somewhere different. He went to Oakland and had a great experience there. In his "greeny" area, he met and taught a young man named Ryan Mourelatos. Kevin was soon transferred to the Pleasanton 3rd Ward, and the bishop of the Pleasanton 3rd Ward was Bishop Paul Larson, the very man who served a mission in Hawaii 20 years before, had knocked on our door.Imagine the great joy it was for Bishop Larson to meet this young elder. We'd kept in touch with him over the years, but to have this young elder, whose mother he had taught the gospel before that elder was even born, to have that elder come and serve in his ward. Kevin later became an assistant to the president, and on one of his zone conferences he found out that Ryan Mourelatos had received a mission call to the Salt Lake City Utah Mission. [He] got permission from his mission president to accompany Ryan as he went to the Oakland Temple to receive his endowment in preparation for serving on his mission.
In May of 2006, Kevin and his wife, Salina, were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. We kept in touch with Elder Mourelatos [at] that time. He got permission from his mission president to come to Elder Wunder's sealing. Kevin didn't know he was going to be there. When Ryan walked in, it was a great time of joy.
I have a picture I would like to share and, once it gets up on the screen, if I can see the screen... there it is. This picture is very special to our family:
On the far left is Elder Paul Larson, who later became Bishop Paul Larson of the Pleasanton 3rd Ward and currently is President Paul Larson, second counselor in the Pleasanton California Stake. Next to him is Sister Wunder, our daughter-in-law Salina and our son, Kevin. Next to Kevin is Elder Ryan Mourelatos. This picture strikes a great chord in our hearts because we see how the light of the gospel, brought to our home by Elder Paul Larson, brought our family to the safe harbor of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Because he lived his life a certain way, and served with his heart, might, mind, and strength, he was that "lower light" that brought us into the harbor of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. On the far end of that, Elder Mourelatos, who, through Elder Larson's missionary effort, that caused Sister Wunder to want to be baptized, that caused Kevin to be born, sealed to our family and serve a full-time mission, he brought the light of the gospel, was the "lower light" that invited Elder Ryan Mourelatos to the safe keeping of the harbor of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I carried a tray of food, prepared by my mother-in-law, into a cluttered and dusty home. The sole occupant sat where she always sat, on a big armchair positioned so she could see out the window. Her swollen legs were stretched in front of her and her cane, which she used only with great effort, leaned against her arm. She smiled when she saw me, thanked me for the food, and apologetically asked who I was. As I sat next to her and listened to her stories, I was filled with warmth and peace.
Three years later, I was on the floor with my two young children, bouncing them on my legs and singing a racehorse tune. Only a few feet away, my kitchen was in disarray and toys were scattered across the floor. I suddenly felt a reassurance from the Spirit that I was right where I needed to be. Warmth and peace flooded my soul, filling its worn edges and giving energy where there was none.
Another two years forward, I was lying on the bed. A pile of laundry was visible on the floor, and a stack of papers littered the desk to my left as I fed my newborn son for the fourth time that night. I brushed my fingertips against his long lashes, felt his soft bald head, and was thrilled when fingers curled around the lace of my shirt. I was so filled with warmth and peace that I didn’t even mind that I was sometimes awake at three in the morning.
In each of these cases, the Holy Ghost was with me, telling me I was in the right place and doing the right thing, and in each of these cases, I was in a messy home.
I still remember the shock I felt the first time I made this connection—I began questioning my experiences. After all, I had always thought growing up that the Holy Ghost doesn’t dwell in unclean places—so I took that to include dirty homes. And these thoughts were nearly always accompanied by a scriptural reference. We learn in 1 Nephi 10:21 that “no unclean thing can dwell with God.” And the Lord tells us in Doctrine and Covenants 88:124 to “cease to be idle; [and] cease to be unclean.”
The irony in all of this is that I missed the deeper meaning of these scriptures—the importance of keeping our personal temples, our minds and bodies, clean—and instead jumped straight to the physical meaning. I had somehow learned from all of these lessons that my worth as a young wife and mother was all wrapped up in how perfect and clean my house was—and the effect of that belief was devastating.
I was always paralyzed with fear when the state of my home was not so perfect. I often didn’t listen for whisperings from the Spirit because I would look around my apartment and think, “No, there’s no way the Spirit can dwell here.”
I can’t remember the exact moment I realized I could feel the Spirit in a home that fell far short from the temple’s standards of cleanliness. But I do remember when I realized that the Lord, with His infinite capacity for compassion and empathy, saw the less-than-perfect efforts I offered, accepted them, and still sent me the spiritual companionship I desperately needed. He doesn’t need me to be perfect right now—He just needs me to do the best I can.
It hasn’t happened overnight, but slowly I’ve let go of what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles refers to as “toxic perfectionism” (see “Be Ye Therefore Perfect—Eventually,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2017, 42). I’ve started allowing myself to believe that I can have the Holy Ghost with me even if I don’t have the energy to stay up all night with a teething baby and keep up with the laundry. Instead, I make sure I give the best I can give, and I accept the love Heavenly Father sends in return. I haven’t given up on becoming a better homemaker, I just say yes to the grace and inspiration the Lord has been trying to give me for so long. Because when I keep myself spiritually clean and do what He asks me to do, the Holy Ghost comes, messy house or not.

I began seeking for ways that I could teach “The Living Christ” to our children. I recognized that they were young (our oldest was 11) and that this precious document was rather lengthy. But I had a desire, and after I prayed and thought about it often, the Spirit showed me how I could teach my family.
I had long collected pictures cut out of old Church magazines. I went to the box where I kept them and started pulling out pictures that seemed to match the different phrases in “The Living Christ.” For instance, for “He was the Great Jehovah of the Old Testament,” I found a picture of Christ, as Jehovah, talking with Moses. For the next phrase, “Under the direction of His Father,” I found a picture of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ standing together. Within a short time, I had gathered many pictures and paired them with their associated text from “The Living Christ.”
December seemed the perfect time for our family to start focusing on “The Living Christ.” Our children were excited and really got into our endeavor. We posted the pictures we were working on in our kitchen. I noticed that during the day, the kids would say the phrases as they passed by the pictures. When everyone had memorized the set of pictures on the wall, we put them away and started working on a new set.
With each picture, we discussed the gospel and life of Jesus Christ. Our family home evening lessons were filled with stories and lessons about the Savior. My husband taught some of the concepts in “The Living Christ,” bringing new insights.
Family prayers became more meaningful because the children gave more thought to Him in whose name they were praying. The Spirit filled our home. We felt like Nephi when he wrote, “We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ” (2 Nephi 25:26). Our home became a place of greater peace.

I hope you can print my letter because I feel it may help a brother or sister who is struggling to find faith. As our Sunday School class discussed “The Currant Bush” by Elder Hugh B. Brown [January issue], I realized that I have had the same kind of experience. Last fall I was working on Sunday, but I thought nothing of it because I needed the money. I got involved in school too and began to become inactive in church. Then I got an important part in our school play—the best part I ever had. I was thrilled. Rehearsals began and conflicts arose. I knew I would have to quit my job and let my schoolwork suffer because of the play. This did not really bother me because I had a great desire to be in the theater at any cost. Well, just then I got mononucleosis and had to withdraw from the play. I was out of school for months and also lost my job. At first I felt very bitter because I had wanted this part in the play. I felt much the same as Elder Brown. I am a junior, and I had worked for this good part since I was a freshman. I also had plans of being the star in my senior play.

My dreams were shattered, my life’s activity stopped. I had to stay home in bed. For a long time I felt bitter. But then one day as I was watching the sun, I knew this was not a curse but a blessing in disguise. I had more than eleven weeks to think and pray. It finally came to me that the Church was the most important thing in my life, not the theater or my job. Now I am well again and am back at church. Every day I thank Heavenly Father for pruning me so that I was able to start over. I realize now the importance of attending church. Perhaps others can learn this lesson less painfully, but I would not change a thing that happened.
Robynann McfarlandKeene, New Hampshire

The article “No Spoonful of Sugar” in the May 1988 New Era really disappointed me. It seemed to me that you accentuated the negative and eliminated the positive.
I am a nanny of eight months, and I am having a wonderful time. My testimony has grown along with my sense of responsibility. I know that there are some hard situations, but not all are bad.
My employees have treated me very well, and they help to work out any problems I might have. They even gave me a plane ticket home for Christmas.
I would not have missed this experience for anything. I really wish you had printed a few more positive examples.
I really enjoy reading the New Era articles and thought you would like to know how my nanny friends and I felt about the article.
Louann BishopNingham, Maryland

I had a very long, exhausting day, and I wanted to go home after school to spend some time with my family before I called it an early night. I packed my bag as the final bell rang. I got up and started to walk out of my ROTC class, heading to the other side of the school, where my car was parked. When I went through the door I had an impression to go find my friend Alex. I dismissed it, because I was tired and wanted to go home.
When I was about to walk out of the back door, it was as if someone screamed in my head to stop. A few seconds later, the impression to go talk with Alex came into my mind again. This time I heeded the prompting and headed back to my ROTC class on the other side of the school.
I walked back into my classroom, where my unit was practicing for an upcoming event. I found Alex off in a corner by herself and walked over to talk with her. As we talked, I found out that she was having a very down week. Everything had gone wrong for her. She then told me she had really been down and was having destructive thoughts. We talked for a while, and it started to get late. I made sure she felt better and then left.
The next morning when I came in, I ran into Alex. She wasn’t the sad, down girl she had been yesterday. She was full of love and peace, and she was happy and cheery again. She thanked me for being a friend in a time of need. She then went on to say that if I hadn’t taken that time to talk with her, she might have done something.
I thought back to when I first had ignored the prompting to talk with her. I didn’t listen to it. I could have lost a very dear friend to me that day.
Whenever I get a prompting from the Lord, I always remember this event, and I act immediately, for we are answers to people’s prayers, angels to others, and instruments in the hands of the Lord to work miracles in the lives of others. When the Lord prompts us, we need to act.

Darkness covered the city of Nauvoo, but there was a restlessness in the air. Here and there, windows were bright with lamp light. Chickens were stirring. Somewhere a dog howled.

Eleven-year-old Mary Ann raised up on her elbow in bed when she heard a horse gallop up to the door of their house.

“Sister Pratt!” called a voice. “Joseph and Hyrum are dead! Murdered by a mob at the Carthage jail!”

Mary Ann gasped. Barely breathing, she strained to listen as her mother went to the door and talked to the messenger in low, anxious tones. Suddenly she felt alone and frightened.

As her feet touched the wooden floor, she heard the door close and lock behind the messenger. All at once she was in her mother’s arms and both of them began to cry.

Mary Ann wished “Father” were there to tell them everything would be all right. Her real father had died suddenly when she was just a baby, but when Mother married Parley P. Pratt, Mary Ann had learned to love him and call him “Father.” Now he was away on a mission.

Mary Ann’s thoughts were interrupted when little Susan began to whimper. Her mother lifted the baby out of the cradle and rocked her. Even through her tears, Mama’s voice was sweet and clear, as if she were still singing with the choir.

“Do you think he knew it was coming, Mama?”

“Everyone was concerned for his safety. His life was constantly threatened.”

“I think he knew,” Mary Ann insisted. “Do you remember three weeks ago in the grove on Mulholland Street when the Prophet asked all the children to meet the next Sabbath for a Sunday School? Then he said, ‘I don’t know if I can be here. I will if I can, but Brother Stephen Goddard will be here to take charge.’ Don’t you think he knew, Mama?”

Mary Ann’s mother held her close, next to little Susan, who was sleeping peacefully on her mother’s lap. They both knew it was a question to which there was no answer. Together they watched the sun brighten the sky and smelled the perfume of roses and sweetbriar, brought in on the early morning breeze.

“I remember that, Mama.”

“Someday you can tell Susan all about it.”

“Oh, yes, I will!”

Mary Ann slid to the floor and knelt at her mother’s knees so she could look into the sleepy-eyed face of her little sister.

“I’ll tell her how I knew Joseph Smith was a Prophet of God the first time I saw him—and how I still know it! And some day, in heaven, Susan and I will be able to see the Prophet together.”

“We’re going to have a scavenger hunt,” Mom announced at family home evening.
Ten-year-old Amy grinned.
“Cool!” said Nathan and Carl, Amy’s older brothers.
Mom continued. “You’ll be able to find most of the things on the list tonight, but some may take all week.” She passed a list to each person.
“Get as many as you can,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father will help you, if you ask.”
Amy scanned the page:
SCAVENGER HUNT—THINGS TO FIND
A picture of Jesus Christ
A story of a missionary experience
A true pioneer story
The name of an ancestor with the same first or middle name as yours
“OK,” Mom said, before Amy could finish reading the list, “be back here in an hour for closing prayer, and then try to complete the list during the week. We’ll have prizes and share our experiences next week.”
While Nathan and Carl whispered together, Amy read the rest of the list:
A story about President Hinckley when he was a boy
A scripture about faith
A picture of a temple in another country
Someone to give a Book of Mormon to
Amy groaned. The first seven wouldn’t be too hard. But how would she ever find someone to give a Book of Mormon to?
“The first one’s easy,” Amy muttered to herself. She took a deep breath, then pulled a small picture of Jesus Christ out of her scripture carrier. One down.
Her class had read Alma 32:21 in Primary last week. It was a good scripture on faith, so Amy put a bookmark there in her Book of Mormon and placed her scriptures by the picture of Jesus.
For once Amy was glad that her middle name was Evelyn. She already knew that it was her great-grandmother’s name, too!
Next, she went downstairs and found old copies of the Friend. As she thumbed through them, she found a picture of the Tokyo Temple. Another issue had a story about President Hinckley growing up, and several magazines had true pioneer stories. By that time, the hour was up. No one had thought of someone to give a Book of Mormon to. In the closing prayer, they asked for help in finding people who were looking for the gospel.
Brother and Sister McKenzie had just come home from their mission in Brazil, so on Tuesday, Amy decided to ask them about their mission. But the last item still stumped her—someone to give a Book of Mormon to.
Amy thought and prayed about it all week long. Whom could she give a Book of Mormon to? And what could she say? “We’re having a scavenger hunt—would you like a Book of Mormon?” They’d laugh at her.
She didn’t feel like being laughed at, and besides, she didn’t think giving someone a Book of Mormon should be a joke. It was a special book. She loved it, and she loved Jesus Christ too much to … That was it! It was a book for people who loved Jesus! Amy knew just the person.
She knelt and prayed quietly for Heavenly Father’s help. Courage, came a whisper in her mind. A calm feeling warmed her, and she rode her bike to her friend Sarah’s house.
But the calm feeling vanished when she got to the door. With sweaty palms and a butterfly storm in her stomach, she prayed silently, then rang the doorbell.
“Hi, Amy,” Mrs. Morgan said, opening the door. “Sarah’s at her grandmother’s this week.”
“I know,” Amy said. “I came to talk to you.” She paused, took a deep breath, then plunged in. “Mrs. Morgan, you love Jesus Christ a lot, don’t you?”
“Oh, very much,” Mrs. Morgan said, her face softening.
“Would you … would you like another book about Him?” Amy held out a blue Book of Mormon.
“The Book of Mormon,” Mrs. Morgan read. “Another Testament of Jesus Christ.”
“It tells some really neat things about Jesus,” Amy said. “About His visit to the Nephites in America and what He taught them. And it has one of my favorite scriptures—’When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’”*
Mrs. Morgan studied Amy’s face for a moment, then looked back at the book. “Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” she repeated in a whisper. “Yes, Amy, I would like to read this. Thank you.”
Amy grinned, and the warm feeling bubbled over inside her. “I like all of it, but Third Nephi is where it tells about the Savior’s visit to the Americas. I especially like where He blesses the children. That’s Mom’s favorite part, too.”
Mrs. Morgan started turning pages, and Amy helped her find Third Nephi.
Mrs. Morgan settled herself on the front step and began reading. Amy waited for a moment, then smiled and left. Mrs. Morgan was too caught up in her reading to say good-bye. And as the bubbly feeling carried Amy home, she knew she had already won the real prize of the scavenger hunt, and she hoped everyone else in her family would win it, too.

Across from me a woman sat sobbing. With tear-filled eyes, she told me, “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” She spoke of having struggled and prayed many days to know how to make a vitally important decision in her life, without success. She anguished, “I don’t know what to do. If you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll do it.” With her hand on the scriptures, she said, “God told us He would help us. He answers everybody else’s prayers. Why won’t He answer mine?”

I begin with a true story. Our youngest son, Robert, studied law at this university and took a class in trusts from a distinguished legal scholar, Dallin H. Oaks. My son told me that on the first day of the class the teacher said to the students, “As we begin this course, I want you to know where I am coming from. I believe that Jesus is the Christ and the Savior and the Redeemer of the world. I believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and restored the gospel of Jesus Christ in its fullness to the earth in our day. I believe that all of the presidents of the Church since Joseph Smith have been successors in interest, keys, and authority to that held by Joseph Smith. Now please open your books and we’ll study trust law.”
I believe that the first day’s instruction was more valuable to Robert, and more useful in his life, than the rules of trust law set forth in Ex Parte-Pye and other decisions, important as they are in the law of trusts.

James Setterberg was also part of the first generation of missionaries to use Preach My Gospel. When he arrived in the Texas Houston East Mission in 2005, his fellow missionaries had been using the resource for several months. But because of the example of a local priesthood leader, Elder Setterberg realized that the tool’s usefulness wasn’t limited to the missionaries.
“In one area, we missionaries lived in the home of a stake president and his family. Every morning, they got up for scripture study, which included going through the various chapters of Preach My Gospel. That’s when I realized that this book really is for everyone,” he says.
It was a lesson he brought home with him. “Before my mission, I had never really set specific goals for my life; I guess I didn’t want to overshoot things,” he admits. “But because of the emphasis on goal setting from my mission president and chapter 8 of Preach My Gospel, that began to change.”
Weekly planning and goal-setting sessions for two years formed a habit that James has retained since his return home. He has, for example, set and worked toward educational and spiritual goals. He says, “I’ve come to realize that without setting goals, you can’t really tell where you are in life, progression-wise. But when you do set and work toward goals, you stretch yourself and become a better person. I have Preach My Gospel to thank for learning that.”

Sixteen! What a time of life! “Nobody should have to go through this alone,” I thought.
My wise parents were kind and always gave me good counsel. My older sister had just gotten married and moved out of state. My little brother was involved with his 11-year-old concerns. I had great friends, and I knew my Church leaders sincerely cared about me.
But my older brother, Gary, was my confidant. I looked up to him in all things as a teenager. “Whenever I talk to him, things make more sense,” I said to myself. “I wish he could be here right now.”
But he wasn’t. He was far away in Japan, serving a full-time mission.
Despite missing Gary, I did have a fun birthday. My mom made me our traditional birthday breakfast, and I received a few gifts before going to school. That night, my family and I went out for a pizza dinner and ended with birthday cake. I even let myself daydream about dating, driving, and other exciting things I would do as a 16-year-old.
However, the best present I received that day was a letter in the mail. Gary hadn’t forgotten my super special day! This was before the days of email, so a letter took a long time to travel from Japan to Cache Valley, Utah, USA. I was amazed that his letter arrived right on my birthday! The letter was handwritten, which made it more like having my brother present with me as I read:
“Dear Merilee:
“Well, you have got the big birthday coming up, don’t you? I guess when you get this letter it will already be past. I can’t believe it—you are 16 years old. It seems like only a few years ago when you used to [wear your little red cowboy hat].
“Stay sweet and pure, and always let everyone know that the Church means a lot to you. If you do that, you won’t ever get into a situation where you have to make a decision with all the peer pressure weighing on you. Example: In high school, everyone knew that I didn’t want to drink or smoke, not at all, so I never got invited to a party where that sort of thing went on. My friends knew I didn’t do that. …
“If you let people know your standards, then people with your standards are attracted to you. I don’t mean you have to tell everyone, but actions speak loud. Your spirit is really sweet, and you do fit your name. And you have a good sense of humor. Happy ‘Sweet 16’ Birthday!” The last sentence was underlined in red. No other birthday present could’ve been better! I read it over and over again, until he was back home from Japan and we could finally talk to each other face to face.
It has been years since I received that letter, but I still have it. Many things have changed since then, but not my love for my brother. Today I sustain him not only as my brother and friend, but as Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. The counsel he offers as a special witness of Christ to all the world is an added strength in my life, just like the letter he sent me on my 16th birthday.

I learned important lessons about life through playing sports, whether I was shooting hoops with a friend or playing on basketball and football teams. One of the lessons I learned was how to make decisions. For example, I grew up loving to play basketball more than football and played college basketball for two years. When I was given the opportunity to participate in college football, I knew I had to commit to one or the other, and I had questions about what I should do.
My parents taught me that when I needed to make a big decision in my life, I should get out a piece of paper and a pencil, draw a line down the middle of the paper, and then write down the pros on one side and the cons on the other. After that, I was taught to call upon Heavenly Father to help inspire my thoughts. I learned to keep writing the pluses and minuses on both sides of the paper about the decision I was making, and to take my time. I found that as I did this with patience, it was amazing to see how the Lord revealed thoughts that were not originally there to help me with the process. Finally, when I made my decision, I went to the Lord again in prayer and took time to just listen, so I could sense if He agreed with my decision.
We don’t always understand what the Lord is revealing at the time that He’s giving us inspired thoughts. If you had asked me before I sought heaven’s help about my decision, and I had been told to stop playing basketball and to start playing college football, I would have thought, “Are you crazy? Why would I do that?” But that was the prompting the Lord gave me. Even though I didn’t know why, I knew by the confirming feeling in my heart that I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do. I had gone through a process that allowed me to have confidence in my choice. That knowledge helped me through some rough times.

I would like to tell you about one of the most profitable experiences that I have ever had in my life. In 1943, I heard Adam S. Bennion give a talk on the value of great literature. He tried to get us to form the habit of appraising and doing something about becoming familiar with great human thought. You can sell the idea of the value of being familiar with great ideas to anybody, but most people lose their share of the benefit by saying, “I don’t have time to read.” We have time for everything else, but we do not have time to read; and as a consequence, we are pretty well forgetting how to read effectively.

But Dr. Bennion tried to get around this idea by saying: “Suppose that you didn’t have anything to do but read.” And inasmuch as we were then nearing the end of the Second World War he said, “Suppose that you were going to be a prisoner in a Japanese concentration camp for the next four years, and suppose that you would be allowed to take into the concentration camp with you the complete works of any ten authors. Which would you take, and what would you expect to get out of them?” It is a well-known fact that people get pretty hungry for great ideas when they get into a concentration camp where they are purposely deprived of good reading material. Then Dr. Bennion told us which authors he would take and why.

At that time I was teaching a class in salesmanship, and under his stimulation I decided that I would like to reread the Bible with the idea of getting out of it its salesmanship. The Bible is the world’s first book of religion, the world’s first book of knowledge, the world’s first book of poetry, the world’s first book of history, and the world’s first book of business success and the world’s finest sales manual.