Gospel Story Finder

Every Saturday at ten o’clock, Mama takes Brett and me to the library. That’s when our Library Grandma reads.

The other children grab books and yell, “Read mine! Read mine!” Brett and I sit quietly, like people should in a library.

Our Library Grandma gathers the grabby grumblers and growls like a grouchy gorilla. She reads wild stories for wild children. Her hair springs from the bun on the top of her head. Her arms wave and her feet stomp. Her eyes squint and her brow wrinkles. The wide-eyed children hold their breath.

“Don’t stop, Grandma,” they beg when it’s time to go. “Read to us all day.” They love her, but we love her the best.

After our Library Grandma finishes reading to all the children each Saturday, we pick out books to take home. When Mama comes to get us, she gives our Library Grandma a ride home too. At our house, she comes in. Brett and I give her our library books and yell, “Read mine! Read mine!” Then our Library Grandma, our very own real Grandma, hugs us—and reads to us all day!

For generations it has inspired those who read it. Herbert Schreiter had read his German translation of the Book of Mormon. In it he read:
“When ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
Herbert Schreiter tested the promise and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In 1946, released as a prisoner of war, Herbert returned to his wife and three little daughters in Leipzig, Germany. Soon thereafter, he went as a missionary to Bernburg, Germany. Alone, without a companion, he sat cold and hungry in a room, wondering how he should begin.
He thought of what he had to offer the war-devastated people. He printed by hand a placard which read, “Will there be a further life after death?” and posted it on a wall.
About that same time, a family from a small village in Poland came to Bernburg.
Manfred Schütze was four years old. His father had been killed in the war. His mother, with his grandparents and his mother’s sister, also a widow, and her two little girls, were forced to evacuate their village with only 30 minutes’ notice. They grabbed what they could and headed west. Manfred and his mother pulled and pushed a small cart. At times, the ailing grandfather rode in the cart. One Polish officer looked at the pathetic little Manfred and began to weep.
At the border, soldiers ransacked their belongings and threw their bedding into the river. Manfred and his mother were then separated from the family. His mother wondered if they might have gone to Bernburg, where her grandmother was born, perhaps to relatives there. After weeks of unbelievable suffering, they arrived in Bernburg and found the family.
The seven of them lived together in one small room. But their troubles were not over. The mother of the two little girls died. The grieving grandmother cried out for a preacher, and asked, “Will I see my family again?”
The preacher answered, “My dear lady, there is no such thing as the Resurrection. They who are dead are dead!”
They wrapped the body in a paper bag for burial.
On the way from the grave, the grandfather talked of taking their own lives, as many others had done. Just then they saw the placard that Elder Schreiter had posted on the building—“Is there further life after death?”—with an invitation from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At a meeting, they learned of the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ.
The book explains:
The purpose of mortal life and death;
The certainty of life after death;
What happens when the spirit leaves the body;
The description of the Resurrection;
How to receive and retain a remission of your sins;
What hold justice or mercy may have on you;
What to pray for;
Priesthood;
Covenants and ordinances;
The office and ministry of angels;
The still, small voice of personal revelation;
And preeminently, the mission of Jesus Christ;
And many other jewels that make up the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
They joined the Church. Soon their lives changed. The grandfather found work as a baker and could provide bread for his family and also for Elder Schreiter, who had given them “the bread of life.”
Then help came from the Church in the United States. Manfred grew up eating grain out of little sacks with a picture of a beehive on them and peaches from California. He wore clothes from the welfare supplies of the Church.
Manfred Schütze is now a member of the Third Quorum of Seventy and supervises our seminaries in Eastern Europe. His mother, now 88, still attends the temple at Freiberg, where Herbert Schreiter once served as a counselor to the president.

Fifteen-year-old Ricardo Pereira of Poitiers tells how he felt when he and his father stopped attending meetings four years ago.
“It just wasn’t the same. Something was missing.”
Members and missionaries maintained contact, and eventually the father and son returned to activity. They’ve been regulars in the branch now for almost a year. What’s more, Ricardo’s mother and his two sisters, even though they are not LDS, are also attending church.
“The gospel gives us goals and principles to follow,” Ricardo says. “I feel better when we come to church.”

The bombs were going off all around me, and gunfire zinged overhead. But I had to keep crawling, dragging the 40-pound ammunition can with me through the dirt and mud. My basic training in South Carolina was nearly finished. We were in the final ordeal to test our skills, endurance, and obedience. Each day had been challenging, and it seemed that I’d been able to meet each task and accomplish it. But I was really being pushed this time.
When I first arrived, I realized that in order to succeed, I needed to learn from those around me. Watching the people who were excelling, I followed their lead. With each new skill, I looked to see how the best men of our group worked at it, and then followed their example to develop my full potential. It was the same lesson my mother and father had taught me since childhood. They read the scriptures, and they taught me to, so I read them daily. I was shown by them to kneel and pray, morning and night. They taught me to follow the example of my Savior and live my life as He lived His.
When the going would get tough, my mother always said, “Sing a Primary song; it will carry you through.”
So there I was, with my face in the dirt, struggling through the gunfire and explosions, in the final big test of my training, and my mother’s words came to mind. I began singing, softly at first, “I am a child of God, and He has sent me here, has given me …” (Hymns, no. 301).
Suddenly, a drill instructor on the course shouted, “Recruit Letteer! What are you singing?”
I thought I had been singing to myself, but in the pressure of the moment I must have started singing out loud. Now, over the din on the field, one of my drill instructors had heard me. I lifted my face from the mud and called out, “Sir! I’m singing ‘I Am a Child of God,’ sir!”
He looked at me, paused for a moment, then shouted, “Carry on, recruit!”
And I will, I’ll carry on as a United States Marine in the Reserve Corps, and in a few months, as Elder Letteer somewhere in the world as a missionary. And when the going gets tough, I’ll just look to my example, Jesus Christ, and know how to “carry on” again.

The other experience that led me to speak of diligence to you tonight was watching a man near the end of his priesthood service in this life. He had been a bishop twice. His first call as a bishop, years before I met him, had been when he was young. Now he was old, released for the second time as a bishop. His increasing physical limitations made any priesthood service very difficult.
Yet he had a plan to act in diligence. He sat every Sunday he could get to church near the row nearest the door where most of the people would enter for the sacrament meeting. He got there early to be sure a seat was vacant. Each person arriving could see his look of love and welcome, just as they did when he sat on the stand as their bishop. His influence warmed and lifted us because we knew something of the price he paid to serve. His task as a bishop was finished; his priesthood service did not end.

The journey to her parents’ home some five hundred miles away seemed impossible. The distance was disheartening, and she had no provisions. To make matters worse, it was winter. But those fears were nothing compared to the thought of traveling alone through a war zone. Alexandria remembers sitting alone in the snow, hungry and weak, with cold tears on her cheeks. She was inconsolable until, remembering her mother’s prayers, she decided to offer her first: “Help me. Help me find my way home.” She wasn’t sure her prayer had been heard, but she nevertheless began the dangerous trek.
The winter days passed slowly. As if in answer to her prayer, someone along the way gave her a map. That spark of hope kept her going, from farm to farm and town to town, day after day. At dusk she pleaded with strangers for a place to sleep—floor or barn, it didn’t matter, as long as it was inside, so she wouldn’t get caught—and shot—for breaking curfew. Food was so scarce that she had nothing to eat but the meager scraps of stale bread and potato peelings that she scrounged from scrap buckets after her hosts had retired to bed. At first light she would resume her journey, often with her clothing wet because of the damp, leaking barns in which she had slept.
Late one afternoon, after an unusually long walk in deep snow, Alexandria was exhausted and knew she would not reach the next town on her own before curfew. She was afraid because she had learned that German soldiers were in the area. Suddenly, three horse-drawn hay wagons driven by German soldiers appeared on the narrow road. As Alexandria hid nearby, she got an idea. If she hopped onto one of the wagons without being seen, she could make it to the next town before dark. The last wagon passed, and she put her desperate plan into action. Running with all her strength, she managed to grab a pole attached to the back of the wagon and climb aboard.
Alexandria rode in relative comfort until, a few miles later, the wagons came to an abrupt halt. She froze with fear. At the sound of approaching footsteps, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. “Please help me, dear God!” The footsteps came closer, then stopped right next to her. Alexandria lifted her head to look into the compassionate eyes of a young soldier who motioned for her to remain still. Then he turned to rejoin his comrades without making his discovery known. The company moved on, and Alexandria safely reached the next town.
“I know Father in Heaven was watching over me and was helping me,” she says, her eyes misty with emotion.
After weeks of traveling, Alexandria arrived home, thin and weak but overjoyed to see her family again.

Those who are called to serve as bishops are blessed with the gift of discernment. The Holy Ghost helps them to discern when someone is telling the truth and also helps them see the good in ward members. Years ago, I was preparing to set apart a newly called bishop. Before I laid my hands upon his head, he turned and asked in great humility, "President, while you are setting me apart, could you bless me with the gift of remembering names. This is a weakness of mine, and I want to improve myself. I believe this gift would help me magnify my calling." I was struck with his childlike faith. The Spirit whispered to me that the Lord was pleased with such a righteous desire.

President George Q. Cannon, counselor to several Presidents of the Church, said, "If any of us are imperfect, it is our duty to pray for the gift that will make us perfect." Since the most important callings in the kingdom are that of mother and father, President Cannon encouraged parents to ask for spiritual gifts. He suggested to young mothers, for example, that they might ask for "the gift to govern children" or to "organize households."[25] If you want to be a better parent or spouse or roommate, there is heavenly help available. Why not ask?

“Go away! Go away!” Little Wolf shouted, looking back and racing over the carpet of pine needles as fast as his legs would carry him.
But the small bear cub kept making lonely little grunts as it followed him. The cub had lost its mother and was willing to accept anyone as a substitute—even a frightened Indian boy!
Little Wolf had been picking berries for his mother when he peeked through the bushes and saw the small bear standing awkwardly on its hind legs, stretching to nibble off the juicy berries that hung in clusters all along the branches.
The boy had stood quietly, grinning with delight as he watched the clumsiness of the small grizzly. He would have liked to pet him, but Little Wolf’s father, Chief Otoe, had taught him that it was very dangerous to bother the young of any wild animal.
There was nothing sweet and cuddly about a mother grizzly, especially if she felt one of her cubs was in danger. Certain that the cub’s mother would not be far away, Little Wolf had begun to slip backwards through the brush, away from the little bear. But he wasn’t able to glide silently through the forest as the braves could, and suddenly a small dry twig cracked like a whip under his moccasin.
The cub had seen the boy and eagerly loped toward him. All Little Wolf could think of was the cub’s mother. “Go away! Go back to your mother!” he kept shouting, as he ran toward his village.
Looking backward over his shoulder, the boy failed to see a big log lying in his path. He tripped over it and sailed through the air, then fell face down in the pine needles.
“My mother has always said they should have named me Clumsy Wolf,” Little Wolf grunted. “And she is right.” Sitting up, he tried to straighten the broken feather in his headband, which had flown off when he fell.
The cub caught up with the frightened boy. It pounced on him and pawed playfully at Little Wolf’s drawn-up knees; then it began to lap at his bare chest and nuzzle his chin. What would the braves think if they saw the Chief’s son being kissed by a bear!
Climbing over the logs, Little Wolf threw some sticks at the cub and limped into a clearing that surrounded a small cluster of tepees on the bank of a clear and sparkling brook.
No one laughed at the sight of the dusty, tired boy jogging into the village with a grizzly close behind. They were all afraid that an enraged bear might be close behind the pair. The mothers hurried small children inside the tepees. Several of the braves put arrows in their bows and stood waiting.
“I should have run the other way—away from the village,” Little Wolf panted. Now he had put everyone in danger! He always seemed to do everything wrong. Would he ever learn to be a real brave? Suddenly he snatched up the cub and, ignoring his mother’s cries, raced back into the forest as fast as he could go. If I can find the mother bear, he thought, I can return her cub. Then our village will be safe!
“Being little has some advantages,” he mumbled, beginning to tire. The little bear was heavy and kept turning its head to lap at Little Wolf’s chin, as if they were playing a game! The boy slowed and began to walk carefully when he approached the berry patch. Putting the cub down, he shoved it toward a branch hanging heavy with purple fruit. He sighed with relief as the little bear gave a grunt of pleasure and began eating. Now Little Wolf could sneak off.
A loud, sniffling grunt from the other side of the bushes made Little Wolf stiffen in sudden panic. Luckily he was close to a tall tree. There were no low branches he could leap to and grab, but climbing trees was one thing Little Wolf did well. Wrapping his arms and legs around the slender trunk, he shinnied his way up and into the thick foliage just as the mother bear appeared, accompanied by another cub.
Circling the cub, she sniffed suspiciously. Her eyes told her this was her cub, but her nose warned her that something was wrong. The cub smelled of man.
Breathlessly Little Wolf watched, his heart hammering in his throat. If the bear caught his scent and climbed the slender tree, it would snap under her weight, or bend until his hiding place hit the ground. Then he would have to leap out and run. He had seen bears run, and he knew that he would have little chance of making it to safety. Despite their lumbering walk, bears could run like the wind!
His father had taught him that the only way to escape a running bear was to go downhill. Because of their short front legs, they had to go slowly or they would become overbalanced and roll down the hill.
The little cub kept trying to approach his mother, but her fierce grunts kept him back. Bewildered, he stood quietly staring at her as she circled him warily, sniffling the ground. “Oh, no!” Little Wolf gasped as she came directly to his tree. Standing on her hind legs, she began to throw her massive head from side to side as she made angry sounds.
Little Wolf felt sick as he clung to the swaying branches and stared down at the huge teeth waiting for him. Seeing that she couldn’t dislodge him, the bear began slashing at the tree trunk with her claws. Tree bark flew in all directions as she tore at it. The boy knew that when the bear saw she could not knock the tree over, she would begin to climb.
Little Wolf had never heard a more welcome sound than the drumming of a tom-tom and the shouts of men who were running through the forest toward his hiding place. The shouting braves were led by his father, Chief Otoe. They had come to rescue him!
Concern for her cubs overruled the grizzly’s rage. Turning, she lumbered off, leading them away from the shouts.
“You were willing to sacrifice yourself for the tribe,” Chief Otoe said to his small son as they walked back toward the village. “It was a very brave thing to do, Gray Wolf.”
Little Wolf glowed with pride. His father had called him Gray Wolf, not Little Wolf. It was his first big step toward manhood!

Emily told Mama, “My blanket’s name is Pinkie.” Emily got her blanket when she was a baby. Now she was old enough to know her colors, and she had given her blanket a name. Pinkie was fuzzy in some places and silky in others. Emily took Pinkie with her everywhere, except to church. That was because Mama said, “In Sunbeams you need your hands for other things.”
Pinkie had gone with Emily to Grandpa’s house for Thanksgiving. Now Emily’s family sat in the car heading home. At first Emily colored. Then she played I Spy. But now it was dark and the only sound was the hum of the engine.
Emily rubbed Pinkie’s silky edge against her nose. Rubbing her nose with Pinkie helped Emily think beautiful thoughts.
Daddy slowed down and pulled the car over to the side of the road.
“What’s going on?” Mama asked.
“There was a crash,” Daddy said. “We need to see if we can help.”
In the light from the headlights Emily saw a smashed car. She also saw a family huddling outside of it. There was a little girl. She wasn’t wearing a coat.
Emily knew that if she were that little girl she would be scared. She would be cold.
Emily handed Daddy her blanket. “Please give Pinkie to that girl.”
“Are you sure?” Daddy asked.
Emily nodded. She loved Pinkie, but that little girl needed beautiful thoughts right now.

Following the directions of Church leaders was an accepted thing to Don McBride. When he was nine years old, his father had accepted a call from President John Taylor to leave his home in Santaquin, Utah, to colonize the Gila Valley area of Arizona. Life was hard there; scarce rainfall made farming difficult. Water was obtained only by irrigation. Don and his brothers helped support the family by freighting goods across Indian territory.
On January 13, 1897, Don McBride married Mary LaPreal Nuttal. In October of that year, their son, Donald, was born. When the call came from the First Presidency to serve a mission in the Samoan Islands, Don, with the support of his wife, accepted immediately.
In June 1898 Elder McBride, with only a few dollars in his pockets, left for Salt Lake City to be set apart for his mission. There he received a special blessing from a General Authority of the Church. The blessing contained a promise that if he would fill an honorable mission, obeying those who were in authority over him, he would have power to command the winds and waves of the sea to be still.
Elder McBride thought little of this promise upon his arrival in Samoa. He worked diligently to master the Samoan language. In his mission journal he wrote, “Fasted all day and prayed to the Lord in secret to help me learn the language. … I study very hard to get the language, but it is slow work.” Then, as he began to feel more sure of the language, he started to offer prayers and to bear his testimony at meetings and to teach in the Church-organized schools. He even helped in translating the Bible into Samoan.
Elder McBride encountered prejudice and opposition from the ministers of other churches on the islands. He wrote, “In looking around I find the field is by no means clear and prejudice staring me in the face as the Teachers have forbidden anyone attending our meetings.”
He learned to enjoy the unaccustomed food delicacies of the Samoan people and mentions feasting on roasted bat, ula (breadfruit), and palela (a kind of sea worm). He also grew to appreciate their sincere friendliness and hospitality.
Elder McBride and his companion were called to travel to the island of Savaii to prepare for a conference to be held there. As they drew near the island in a boat, a fierce inland wind suddenly forced them back out to sea. Having no compass, they knew that they would be lost if they didn’t keep the island in sight. They and the Samoan men with them took turns rowing until all were exhausted, their hands blistered and raw.
Suddenly Elder McBride remembered the blessing that had been given to him. He arose at once and stretched forth his hands. In the name of Jesus Christ he commanded the winds and the waves to be still. Immediately the winds subsided, and the terrifying waves became peaceful, astonishing the frightened natives. Although the men were now far out to sea, they turned their boat toward the island and rowed to it safely.
Don Carlos McBride served two missions to the Samoan Islands, spending a total of nearly seven years there. In 1910, during his second mission, he was called to be the mission president. Despite the hardships and sacrifice involved, he served with obedience and love.

It happened in the aftermath of a disaster. A dam in Idaho broke on a June day. A wall of water struck the communities below it. Thousands of people, mostly Latter-day Saints, fled their homes to go to safety.
I was there as the people faced the terrible task of recovery. I saw the stake president gather his bishops to lead the people. We were cut off in those first days from any supervision from outside. I was in the meeting of local leaders when a director from the federal disaster agency arrived.
He tried to take over the meeting. With great force he began to list the things that he said needed to be done. As he read aloud each item, the stake president, who was sitting near him, said quietly, “We’ve already done that.” After that went on for five or ten minutes, the federal official grew silent and sat down. He listened quietly as the stake president took reports from the bishops and gave directions.
For the meeting the next day, the federal disaster official arrived early. He sat toward the back. The stake president began the meeting. He took more reports, and he gave instructions. After a few minutes, the federal official, who had come with all the authority and resources of his great agency, said, “President Ricks, what would you like us to do?”
He recognized power. I saw more. I recognized the evidence of keys and the faith that unlocks their power.

Andy Mair has heard many of the stories about sacrifices made in building the first Nauvoo Temple. He knows about the men and boys who cut stone by hand, hauled heavy loads with just horses and mules, went without good food and clothing, and spent every minute they could building a beautiful House of the Lord.
Andy has plenty to eat and wear and because he’s only 14 he’s not really allowed to work on the temple site. But Andy has made sacrifices. He willingly left his friends and home to come with his family to Nauvoo where his father would oversee the reconstruction of the Nauvoo Temple. “I am not sorry that I came,” says Andy. “I have been able to learn a lot more about the history of the Church and Joseph Smith. I can say that I have walked and lived where the Prophet Joseph and the early leaders of the Church did. As I see the temple workers, I notice that they all have shoes and shirts. They also have modern equipment like cranes, lifts, cement trucks, dump trucks, tractors, and power tools. I try to imagine how people in the 1840s built such a huge building without these things.”
Also, during the construction of the temple, Andy has seen what kind of man his dad is. “It means a lot to me to have my dad be able to oversee the construction of this temple, because I know I am one of a few young men who is able to participate so closely in such an historic event. My dad is a great example to me of hard work and dedication.”
Andy and his new friends in Nauvoo keep track of the reconstruction. One friend, Tally Smith, says, “It’s special to drive by and notice more stone going up or another window in place.”
Amanda Smith also has loved watching the temple go up. “It’s amazing to have a temple right up the road—a temple that’s really a part of your life because you’ve watched it and seen the changes.”
One unique event that took place at the start of the construction was the laying of all four cornerstones. For most temples built today the cornerstone laying is completed as the building is dedicated, but in rebuilding the Nauvoo Temple, the sequence of events from the nineteenth century was duplicated as much as possible.
On April 6, 1841, the members of the Church in Nauvoo gathered at the temple site for the laying of all four cornerstones. Under the Prophet Joseph’s instructions, each cornerstone was moved into place under the direction of the presidents of the various quorums of the priesthood. In those days, the Aaronic Priesthood quorum presidents were all grown men.
But on November 5, 2000, the quorum presidents of the Aaronic Priesthood—representing the deacons and teachers—were Jared Brown, 13, and Hans Smith, 15, both from the Nauvoo Illinois First Ward. They were surprised and honored to be asked to participate in the cornerstone laying.
“I had always thought it would be cool if the Nauvoo Temple were rebuilt,” says Hans. “Now it is happening, and I am going to be here to see it.
“One evening, my stake president, Durell Nelson, came over to my house and told me there was going to be a special cornerstone ceremony. He asked me if I would be interested in being part of this historic event since I was the teachers quorum president of the Nauvoo Ward, and the original teachers quorum president had helped at the original cornerstone ceremony. Wow!”
On the day of the ceremony, Hans was right there with President Gordon B. Hinckley and Bishop H. David Burton, the Presiding Bishop of the Church. Hans says, “I was humbled to represent teachers all over the world at this event. Because I have cerebral palsy, I needed help to scoop in the mortar and was grateful to have Bishop Burton help me. I was grateful that those in charge didn’t let my handicap stand in the way of my participating in this great event.”
As deacons quorum president, Jared also participated. “I felt really blessed because there are so many other young men who would have loved this opportunity. It was probably the best experience of my life. I got to meet the prophet. I also got to keep the trowel I used. It’s something I can always remember and someday tell my children.”

“Now, what do we hear in the gospel which we have received? A voice of gladness! A voice of mercy from heaven; and a voice of truth out of the earth; … a voice of gladness for the living and the dead; glad tidings of great joy.”
Brothers and sisters, it is almost impossible to hear these words from the Prophet Joseph Smith and not break out into a great big smile!
Joseph’s jubilant expression truly captures the full and majestic joy found in God our Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness, for He has assured us, “Men are, that they might have joy.”
We all shouted for joy in our premortal life when we heard God’s plan of happiness, and we continue to shout for joy here as we live according to His plan. But what exactly was the context for this happy declaration from the Prophet? What spurred these deep and heartfelt emotions?
The Prophet Joseph had been teaching about baptism for the dead. This was indeed a glorious revelation that was received with great joy. When Church members first learned that they could be baptized for their deceased loved ones, they rejoiced. Wilford Woodruff said, “The moment I heard of it, my soul leaped [for] joy!”
Baptism for our deceased loved ones wasn’t the only truth the Lord would reveal and restore. There were a host of other gifts, or endowments, that God had been eager to bestow upon His sons and daughters.
These other gifts included priesthood authority, covenants and ordinances, marriages that could last forever, the sealing of children to their parents within the family of God, and ultimately the blessing of returning home to the presence of God, our Heavenly Father, and His Son, Jesus Christ. All these blessings were made possible through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Because God considered these to be among His highest and holiest blessings, He instructed that sacred buildings be erected where He could confer these precious gifts upon His children. These buildings would be His home on earth. These buildings would be temples where that which was sealed or bound on earth in His name, by His word, and with His authority would be bound in the heavens.
As members of the Church today, some of us may find it easy to take these glorious eternal truths for granted. They have become second nature to us. Sometimes it is helpful when we see them through the eyes of those who learn about them for the very first time. This became evident to me through a recent experience.
Last year, just prior to the rededication of the Tokyo Japan Temple, many guests not of our faith toured that temple. One such tour included a thoughtful leader from another religion. We taught our guest about Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness, Jesus Christ’s redeeming role in that plan, and the doctrine that families can be united eternally through the sealing ordinance.
At the conclusion of the tour, I invited our friend to share his feelings. In reference to the uniting of families—past, present, and future—this good man asked in all sincerity, “Do the members of your faith truly understand just how profound this doctrine is?” He added, “This may well be one of the only teachings that can unite this world that is so divided.”
What a powerful observation. This man was not moved simply by the exquisite craftsmanship of the temple but rather by the stunning and profound doctrine that families are united and sealed to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ forever.
We should not be surprised, then, when even someone not of our faith recognizes the majesty of what happens in the temple. What could become common or routine for us is sometimes seen in its splendor and majesty by those who hear it or feel it for the very first time.
Although temples had existed anciently, with the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the building of temples has been one of the highest priorities of all prophets since the Prophet Joseph Smith. And it is easy to understand why.
When the Prophet Joseph was teaching about baptism for the dead, he revealed another great truth. He taught: “Let me assure you that these are principles in relation to the dead and the living that cannot be lightly passed over, as pertaining to our salvation. For their salvation is necessary and essential to our salvation, … they without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect.”
As we can see, the need for temples and the work that is done for both the living and the dead become very clear.
The adversary is on the alert. His power is threatened by the ordinances and covenants performed in temples, and he does anything he can to try to stop the work. Why? Because he knows of the power that comes from this sacred work. As each new temple is dedicated, the saving power of Jesus Christ expands throughout the world to counteract the efforts of the adversary and to redeem us as we come unto Him. As temples and covenant keepers grow in number, the adversary grows weaker.
In the early days of the Church, some would worry when a new temple would be announced, for they would say, “We never began to build a temple without the bells of hell starting to ring.” But Brigham Young courageously retorted, “I want to hear them ring again.”
In this mortal life, we will never escape the war, but we can have power over the enemy. That power and strength come from Jesus Christ as we make and keep temple covenants.
President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “The time is coming when those who do not obey the Lord will be separated from those who do. Our safest insurance is to continue to be worthy of admission to His holy house.”
Here are some additional blessings God has promised us through His prophet:
Do you need miracles? Our prophet has said: “I promise you that the Lord will bring the miracles He knows you need as you make sacrifices to serve and worship in His temples.”
Do you need the healing and strengthening power of the Savior Jesus Christ? President Nelson reassures us that “everything taught in the temple … increases our understanding of Jesus Christ. … As we keep our covenants, He endows us with His healing, strengthening power. And oh, how we will need His power in the days ahead.”
On the first Palm Sunday, as Jesus Christ triumphantly entered Jerusalem, a multitude of His disciples “rejoice[d] and praise[d] God with a loud voice … saying, Blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord.”
How fitting that on Palm Sunday of 1836, the Kirtland Temple was being dedicated. On that occasion the disciples of Jesus Christ were rejoicing as well. In that dedicatory prayer, the Prophet Joseph Smith declared these words of praise:
“O Lord God Almighty, hear us … and answer us from heaven, … where thou sittest enthroned, with glory, honor, power, majesty, [and] might. …
“… Help us by the power of thy Spirit, that we may mingle our voices with those bright, shining seraphs around thy throne, with acclamations of praise, singing Hosanna to God and the Lamb!
“And let these … thy saints shout aloud for joy.”
Brothers and sisters, today on this Palm Sunday, let us as disciples of Jesus Christ also praise our holy God and rejoice in His goodness to us. “What do we hear in the gospel which we have received?” Truly “a voice of gladness!”
I witness that you will feel joy more and more as you enter the holy temples of the Lord. I witness that you will experience the joy He in turn has for you, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Let me give you a couple of examples from the life that I know best: my own. In high school I thought I was a pretty good athlete, and I wanted to play college ball. I went out for football here at BYU and promptly got cut. Then I went out for basketball and promptly got cut. I didn’t bother with baseball and tennis.

But I wasn’t convinced of my limitations, even though everyone else seemed to be fully aware of them. I went to the Air Force Academy, and one strong motivation was that I wanted another go at collegiate athletics. With only 300 cadets on campus at that time, the odds were much better. So I played football, basketball, and baseball my first year in Colorado. But my maturing capacity for introspection as well as knee surgery made me realize that I was quite mediocre even on my better days. Based on that realization I made some adjustments to my life goals. I have enjoyed a lifetime of participating in sports, but I was able to measure success and happiness in terms of participation rather than in excellence of performance.

This is a time to discover talents and interests that will be of satisfaction to you for the rest of your lives.

Through all of this, I did learn that I could work as hard as almost anyone. That was not a native skill; my dad taught me how to work, and all of my life I have been able to keep up with the hardest of workers. This became one of the most important lessons from my college life. Your successes highlight your gifts; your disappointments help you learn your limitations. And these are very important lessons that affect directly who you are in God’s plan. These lessons play a major role in helping you determine your true identity.

While in the hospital, Peter had a lot of time to think about what to do. He still had a long, painful road back to the point where he could be released. It was during this time that several good friends helped him learn about setting goals and controlling attitude. One man from his ward, Brother Lawrence Oborn, was particularly influential. He came to see Peter often and was always encouraging him to set a goal. At first, Peter didn’t want to try. Brother Oborn insisted by saying, “It is what’s on the inside that counts, not the outside.”
I remember how angry I got. I said very flippantly to Brother Oborn, “Okay, why don’t you get burned and you come here.” I could hear him crying, although it was muffled by the bandages around my head. As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t because he had done so much for me. He said, “Peter, if I could, I would.” This was when I realized that this man truly loved me, like his own son. That was when I committed to do everything he asked.
They decided on a goal. Peter would count the stitches he had during each surgery and enter it in the Guinness Book of Records. The doctors and nurses asked to be allowed to quit keeping track just short of 2,000 stitches.
Peter set another goal to count every needle that would enter his body. After seven weeks he got so bored he quit counting at 1,252. Together they set a third goal to be the most enthusiastic patient in the hospital. Even though he was often angry at the world, Peter tried to keep his goal. When he left the hospital, the staff presented him with a plaque naming him the most enthusiastic patient in their care.

Note: No matter how strong someone’s belief in the gospel of Jesus Christ, staying faithful can be difficult for new and returning members if they feel like they don’t belong. In this article we examine what members who are already in the fold can do to welcome others in. In the December issue we will look at what those who feel they’re on the outside can do to find their place.
Within a month of Melissa’s (all names have been changed) baptism in the Midwestern United States, she offered the opening prayer in sacrament meeting. She was nervous about praying publicly but “felt every confidence in my ability to speak to my Heavenly Father,” she recalls. “After all, I had been praying for years, especially while investigating the Church, and could feel the Holy Ghost helping me.”
So it was with surprise that she received an email from a ward member who described “in great detail” all of the ways her prayer was wrong. Shame, embarrassment, and an onslaught of doubt raced through Melissa until she felt prompted to call the returned missionary who had taught her. “He quickly assured me that it was totally inappropriate for this member to criticize me in such a way,” she says. “He also told me the bishopric would never ask another member, as I had assumed, to give me this kind of feedback.”
Reassured, Melissa remained active in the ward, accepted callings, and went on to flourish in her faith. But it took several months to get over the pain and lost confidence from receiving that discouraging email.
Unfortunately, Melissa’s story is not unique. Many new and returning members face significant, but often avoidable, challenges from feeling like they don’t belong. Sometimes even those with strong testimonies struggle to remain faithful when they feel excluded. In a recent video series titled Unity in Diversity, Church leaders address this issue, encouraging members to be more sensitive, inclusive, and loving in our interactions.
The following stories help to illustrate how we as members can apply these principles and offer genuine friendship and emotional support to those who hunger for heartfelt acceptance in the Lord’s Church.
“When anyone’s shadow darkens the door of a chapel, they ought to feel immediately embraced and loved and lifted and inspired …to go and be better because they know the Lord loves them and because they have friends in their faith.”
—Carol F. McConkie, First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency
Melissa needed genuine friends, especially in her ward, she could approach when she needed advice or help. Her husband and daughter hadn’t joined the Church with her.
“Coming to church and seeing all the families made me feel deeply alone,” she says. Everyone was friendly, but even their happiness made her feel as though “I would never attain that Mormon glow because I was the only one with problems.”
In addition to the returned missionary who had taught her, Melissa was blessed with Cindy, an online friend who had first introduced her to the Church. “It was hard to watch Melissa struggling in her local area as I looked on helplessly,” Cindy explains. “So I created a private Facebook group with a few incredibly grounded, loving, diverse members who helped and befriended her in ways I could never do alone.”
The group not only offered a sense of inclusion for Melissa while she found her place in her ward but also responded to questions about lifestyle and cultural concerns. “I was raised in tank tops and short shorts,” Melissa says. She appreciated online friends who responded with photos of outfits she could check out in local stores. This encouraged her to ask sisters in her ward for movie recommendations after she no longer felt comfortable with some selections in her collection.
An important aspect of friendshipping, Melissa points out, is that she sought the advice. Unsolicited advice feels like intrusion rather than inclusion, an invasion of privacy that can be hurtful to those who aren’t prepared for it.
Eventually, Melissa was called to teach in Relief Society. Her calling provided opportunities to interact with others in the ward. Melissa shared with the sisters her difficulties not only in adjusting as a new member but also in dealing with an autistic child, some personal health issues, and “Oh, and my dog is dying.” The experience of having other sisters listen and respond with their own difficulties in class and in private conversations proved deeply healing. These connections helped Melissa feel that she finally had true friends in the faith.
“The Savior commanded His followers to ‘love one another; as I have loved you’ (John 13:34; emphasis added). So we look at how He loved us. …If we make Him our role model, we should always be trying to reach out to include everyone.”
—Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
Robert, an investigator in Canada, has attended a variety of LDS meetings and activities. He has researched various religions but continues studying the Church because of the inspiration he has found in its doctrine and the Book of Mormon. He attends institute to learn more and finds the social environment “refreshingly wholesome, friendly, with a really good vibe,” he says. “Mormons are the nicest people in the world.”
A self-described introvert, Robert wants to interact but says, “I tend to hug the walls, unsure of how to be part of the groups, some of them long-term LDS friends who don’t seem to need anyone else.” But it doesn’t take much to ease this sense of isolation. During an activity, he recalls, “someone came up to me after dinner and encouraged me to stay for the movie; otherwise, I would have left, but instead I had a great time. I just needed to know that someone wanted me there.”
Like Melissa, he appreciates LDS friends who explain doctrine but don’t get too specific about how to live it. Friends who listen more than they admonish are like “someone who walks beside you, as opposed to pushing from behind to make you go faster. Most of the time, you just trip and stumble.”
Robert has struggled to give up smoking. His discomfort illustrates how those who are new are deeply aware of their differences. “Not one member has ever said anything to me about smelling like smoke,” he says. “Yet if my clothes aren’t fresh out of the laundry, I will stay home from institute or church.”
We can create a greater sense of belonging as we reassure and include those who are new to the Church. Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles says, “It breaks my heart if someone comes and is very vulnerable and says … , ‘I want to be here,’ and then gets a cold shoulder or a lack of interest. That’s tragic. …We have to be better than that” (“Is There a Place for Me?” [video], lds.org/media-library).
“When you choose to put yourself out there, you are blessing someone else’s life. …Can you look for the person who is sitting on the outside, sitting on the fringe? …When you’ve opened your heart to other people, you see that we all belong.”
—Jean B. Bingham, Relief Society General President
After Elsa joined the Church in the Netherlands, she experienced a genuine connection with a loving Heavenly Father. But as a young single adult, she also dealt with loneliness when family members and friends felt uncomfortable with her new religious beliefs and habits. “The best thing members have done for me,” she said, “is to willingly befriend me outside of church. Some go to the temple to do baptisms with me even though they have been endowed. I need to interact with members beyond Sunday to get strength and endure to the end.”
Elsa feels like her biggest challenge as a recent convert is “the expectation to suddenly understand everything,” she says. “All the acronyms, events, callings. It can be a little mind-blowing, and I sometimes worry people are judging me for not learning faster.” Additionally, like many others, she experiences social anxiety that “keeps me comfortable sitting toward the back of the chapel, rarely interacting.” Large groups are daunting, and she wonders if others judge her for her lack of participation. “It’s not that I don’t want to take part in the lessons or sing hymns openly or say a public prayer,” she explains. “It’s just that I’m afraid I might actually burst out crying in front of these people I don’t really know yet.”
Sister McConkie says: “I know people who come to church every Sunday so that they can be inspired and uplifted and who just simply walk away feeling judged and unloved—unneeded, like there is no place for them at church. We need to do this differently.”
Members who are nonjudgmental, Elsa says, help her the most. “They listen to my dilemmas and don’t intrude into my personal space. They act with sincerity and patience while I learn for myself what being a member is all about.” In spite of her anxiety, she accompanies the missionaries and looks out for new members and investigators. “I know how it feels to be new,” she explains, “and want to make sure no one turns away from the gifts of the gospel that saved me from despair.”
“People can bring different gifts and perspectives. The wide range of experience and backgrounds and challenges that people face will show us what really is essential in the gospel of Christ. And much of the rest that’s been, perhaps, acquired over time and is more cultural than doctrinal can slip away, and we can really learn to be disciples.”
—Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
In spite of having previously been critical of the Church, Jim joined because he received “an unquestionable spiritual testimony from the Holy Ghost that testified of the truth of the gospel and its doctrine.” One of his greatest challenges, however, was adapting to LDS culture.
After baptism, he discovered that many generally accepted behaviors among members were cultural rather than doctrinal. “While this happens in any organized religion,” he explains, “I felt that if I didn’t conform in certain ways, I would be accused of not fully embracing the gospel. My struggles weren’t with the gospel or doctrine but with a level of conformity that felt only cultural.”
As Elder Christofferson explains, we need our new converts, investigators, and others to help us shed non-doctrinal practices that have accumulated over time and become true disciples.
Extolling the benefits of interacting with people of different backgrounds, Elder Oaks encourages Latter-day Saints to avoid focusing on differences and, instead, begin by asking, “Where are you coming from? What are your basic values? What do you want to accomplish?” This kind of openness and acceptance, in turn, helps those new to our circle feel included, lifted, loved, and ready to embrace salvation within the body of Christ.
Like Church leaders today, the Apostle Paul worried about divisions in the ancient Church of Christ. He urged members with strong opinions to avoid offending fellow Saints about practices that did not, in the end, really matter, explaining that while “knowledge puffeth up, …charity edifieth” (1 Corinthians 8:1). He called for “no divisions among you” and to focus on “Jesus Christ, and him crucified” rather than on the ways members differ from each other (1 Corinthians 1:10; 2:2).
Today, modern apostles and prophets urge us to find unity in diversity, encouraging us to make room for each member of the Church of Christ as an important part of our purpose to come to a “unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God …unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13).

Robert was in third grade when he designed his first website and has since been teaching himself more about computers and programming.
How did you learn about programming and computer design? My older brother Steven, who is in college now, was into computers, and I saw him programming and making websites, and I thought that was pretty cool. So he probably got me interested in computers and programming, and from there I just taught myself.

Transportation was either difficult to obtain or nonexistent. Brother Krause reported that it was common to walk twelve or thirteen hours, for distances of up to fifty kilometers, to visit various branches of the Church. But many members, like Sister Elli Polzin, still had to be found and cared for.
“I came from Stettin [now in Poland] with our children and my mother in 1946. … One day two missionaries, one of them was Brother Walter Bohme from Groitzsch, came by to help us make contact with the Church once again. They encouraged us to move into Schwerin where there was a branch of the Church. I got a job there … and after much difficulty I was able to bring my family to Schwerin. … For years we lived in one room until we got an apartment. And then in December of 1949, one day before Christmas Eve, my husband came home from prison” (Schutze, page 18).

Before coming to BYU–Hawaii, some of my biggest educational highlights involved my travel with American students to foreign countries. In a sense this has proven true for my time at BYU–Hawaii; however, the roles are somewhat reversed as I have had these memorable experiences traveling with diverse groups of BYU–Hawaii students to the American mainland. For the past two years, I have been lucky enough to accompany Brother Jared and Sister Stephanie Marcum with two groups of students from Oceania and Asia to learn about early Church history. We traveled to many of these sites in the northeastern and central United States with the hope that students would be able to understand through literature, travel, and Church history the early American religious contexts in which the Restoration occurred by visiting important sites where the gospel was restored.

For me, most moving are the trips to the Sacred Grove historic site in Palmyra, New York, where Joseph Smith’s First Vision took place. On our visit there, we were given the time to wander around the woods and trails where the vision occurred. Alone with my own thoughts, I wondered if I had prepared the students well enough to appreciate the importance of the First Vision. It has certainly played an important role in my own testimony, and, as an American literature professor, I wanted to make sure that they had read the right things and were prepared to understand it in relation to the American philosophers and writers we were reading about. I felt that I had something important to teach my students who came from other parts of the world about the importance of this moment so it could deepen and strengthen their convictions. After we silently walked and contemplated for about 30 minutes, Brother Marcum had us participate in a small testimony meeting, just on the outskirts of the grove.

This informal meeting quickly became one of the most memorable experiences of my teaching career. I noticed a pattern that developed as the meeting went on with student after student testifying to the power of the First Vision in their own lives, even though they had grown up thousands of miles and two-hundred years away. Each student shared an intimate connection to the struggles that Joseph Smith and his family had in trying to follow the convictions of their testimonies that echoed many of the trials for them and their families in their own homelands.

As students bore testimony about answers they had received to their own struggles with faith and shared worries with each other about the state of their own souls, they found in Joseph a kindred spirit, kneeling in the Sacred Grove, believing that an Eternal God had an interest in the welfare of his soul. As each student walked to the front of the meeting, it was almost as if I watched Joseph, over-and-over again, walk into the grove with the same concern for his salvation. In a way, I had my own minor vision there that helped me realize the enormity of the truly prophetic work that Joseph was to undertake and that we are all inheritors of that legacy, no matter what background we come from. As I saw the role of the Restoration in the lives of my students and witnessed their own vision of the Savior in their lives, my understanding of the significance of the First Vision grew far richer and more expansive.

Jed, who is 13, hasn’t started seminary yet, but the example of his older brothers and sister has inspired him to read the Book of Mormon each morning before school with his mother. They read one chapter a day, and they have already read through the book three times. Because of this experience, Jed is sure he’ll have no trouble getting up for seminary when the time comes. As the youngest of this clan he has probably benefited the most from the 3F formula because it was well established by the time he came along. “I think all of these big brothers are great—I get to wear all of their old clothes!” he laughs. You don’t have to ask Jed twice if he thinks the 3F formula works. He has learned its power through example, and it’s not a lesson he’s likely to forget.