Gospel Story Finder

Before he was called as a General Authority, Marion G. Romney was a state legislator and a prominent member of the Democratic Party in Utah. As the 1936 election neared, it was viewed by both parties as a referendum on the record of the administration of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Roosevelt's opponents pressed him to declare himself willing to abide by the decisions of the Supreme Court. When he would not do that, the Deseret News published an unattributed front-page editorial the Saturday before the election (without mentioning Roosevelt by name) saying that the record of one of the candidates could be construed to indicate he would press for unconstitutional legislation. The editorial urged Church members to vote to protect the Constitution.

President Romney's biographer records that, when the editorial appeared, Romney was stunned. As a Democratic politician working on the re-election committee of the democratic governor of Utah, he felt that his political life had collapsed around him. It was only an editorial, and some would argue it was a legal matter and not an ecclesiastical one, but it was on the front page of the newspaper considered the voice of the Church.

He began to fast. He went to his law office, locked the door, and when he left after three hours of anguished prayer, he had received an assurance that the editorial was inspired and had been written by the Church President. He believed he had no choice but to resign from the governor's committee, which he did, and then spent his efforts from that time until the election trying to dissuade his friends from voting for Franklin Roosevelt. The election was a landslide. Democratic party candidates were swept into power at all levels of government. President Romney soon realized he'd made a costly political decision, but he believed he had done the right thing and that was enough for him.

For many weeks I felt clean and happy. I loved talking about my baptism and how my heart seemed to be growing. My family and Primary teacher reminded me often that the Holy Ghost would help me know what was right and wrong.
A few days ago I had to take a test in school, and I was really nervous. I kept thinking how easy it would be to copy from the girl sitting next to me. I knew that cheating was wrong, but I was desperate to get a good score. Then I remembered that the Holy Ghost would help me. I said a prayer in my heart asking for strength to make the right choice.
The rest of the day, I felt as happy as I had at my baptism. After school, I ran to our car and gave Mom a hug. “I got 100 percent on my test!” I exclaimed.
“That’s great!” Mom said.
“And I didn’t even cheat.”
Mom frowned. “You wanted to cheat?”
“Well, I thought about it,” I admitted. “But I had a feeling inside that it was wrong. So I prayed for help and just tried my best.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you listened to that feeling.”
I’m glad too. Really glad. I always want to be worthy of my companion—the Holy Ghost.

The Bengaluru Stake presidency wanted to visit members as part of their ministering efforts. One Sunday they went to a hospital to visit a member who needed a surgery. They had a pleasant visit giving hope to the family to know that all will be well. The surgery could not happen as the sugar levels were not within the level needed. A priesthood blessing and a promise was given that his surgery would take place soon. After a day, the surgery was performed and it was successful.

When I was asked to sing in general conference, I was worried because I play football and I was afraid I couldn’t do both because of scheduling conflicts. So I went home and prayed to Heavenly Father that it would work out. Then I called the Primary president to say I would do it. The next week my football coach handed out our game schedule, and I was so happy! None of my games would conflict with my singing practices. I know that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers and that saying yes to singing was the right thing to choose.
Braden G., age 10

There are others, too, who are thinking more now about the things that really matter. “My wife had gone through I don’t know how many houses and helped clean up,” explained Brother Roy Vanlandingham. “And after she looked at all that broken fine china and cut glass, we realized what Christ meant when he said not to store up your treasures on earth. No matter what you’ve got, it can be taken away from you in less than 32 seconds. Your family is the only thing that matters. During the aftershocks, we sat in the middle of the street and watched our house rock three feet in each direction. But once I had found out my family was all right the panic was over.”

A second principle is illustrated by two faithful Saints, each deeply desirous of finding an eternal companion. Both prayerfully took faith-filled steps.

Yuri, a Russian Latter-day Saint, sacrificed and saved to take a long trip to the temple. On the train he noticed a beautiful woman with a bright countenance, and he felt that he should share the gospel with her. Not knowing what else to do, he began reading from his Book of Mormon, hoping that she might notice.

Yuri didn’t realize that the woman, Mariya, was already a Latter-day Saint. Not knowing that Yuri too was a member, and following a prompting she had to share the gospel with him, Mariya began reading in her Book of Mormon as well, hoping that he might notice.

Well, when they simultaneously looked up, Yuri and Mariya were astonished to see the Book of Mormon in each other’s hands—and yes, after falling in love, they were sealed in the temple. Today, Yuri and Mariya Kutepov of Voronezh, Russia, as eternal companions, contribute significantly to the growth of the Church in Russia.

“Teacher! teacher! Please run now they are coming after you,” the student in a black hijab shouted at me. I couldn’t figure out why she said that. I was serving as a teacher in a village in the northern part of the country as a corper in the compulsory national youth service scheme.
Again, the warning sounded and this time, all the students in the class ran away leaving me behind. As I came out of the classroom, I saw large group of people gruesomely hacking some of my colleagues down. “What in the world is this?” I asked only to discover that I was asking the empty walls and I immediately took to my heels as the irate mobs saw me and started running towards my direction. As I ran and jumped trenches in the bush, I saw charred and dismembered bodies of old and young people.
The mobs chased me for what seemed like ages determined to do their worst. I fell into a hole and passed out. I must have stayed in the hole for many hours as it was now dark when I regained consciousness. Minutes later I heard voices of people searching for me saying, “We must find him and kill him! He is somewhere around here! He is an infidel, a Christian!” I was so afraid and started praying. As I prayed, I felt an overwhelming assuring power come over as if to say, “Be still, I am with you always.” I got up and climbed out of the hole and started saying these words as I walked aimlessly “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4) then the sound of a gunshot and flickers of torch lights interrupted me.
Thank God! The soldiers came to my rescue. Days later as we went to corper’s lodge to pick our belongings, all had been burnt except my Book of Mormon.

I have many memories of my boyhood days. Anticipating Sunday dinner was one of them. Just as we children hovered at our so-called starvation level and sat anxiously at the table with the aroma of roast beef filling the room, Mother would say to me, “Tommy, before we eat, take this plate of food I’ve prepared down the street to Old Bob, and then hurry back.”

I could never understand why we couldn’t first eat and later deliver his plate of food. I never questioned aloud but would run down to his house and then wait anxiously as Bob’s aged feet brought him eventually to the door. Then I would hand him the plate of food. He would present to me the clean plate from the previous Sunday and offer me a dime as pay for my services. My answer was always the same: “I can’t accept the money. My mother would tan my hide.” He would then run his wrinkled hand through my blond hair and say, “My boy, you have a wonderful mother. Tell her thank you.”

You know, I think I never did tell her. I sort of felt Mother didn’t need to be told. She seemed to sense his gratitude. I remember, too, that Sunday dinner always seemed to taste a bit better after I had returned from my errand.3

With every calling she has, she actively looks for ways to serve the sisters in her ward and enjoys teaching the Young Women how to serve while developing their leadership skills. In February, the Young Women gathered toiletries to deliver to the widows in the ward for Valentines Day, along with homemade cupcakes the advisors baked. One widow said she felt blessed to have been remembered. A housebound widow appreciated being spoilt by the Young Women and enjoyed their visit—sadly she passed away two weeks later—but not before she had felt the love of the Lord, once again, through His servants.

Then one evening, so late that my thinker had stopped working for the day, Arnfinn challenged me to an IQ test. He sat down on one side of the dining room table and started making up equations and mathematical formulas in order to answer the questions. I was on the opposite side of the table drawing pictures to solve the problems presented. We finished and compared our test answers, only to find that we had achieved the same answers. That’s when I realized that the test was similar to our lives together.
Let me explain: He does things one way, and I do them another. But we have the same goal, even though the way there may vary. Reaching that goal is like the IQ test: while he makes equations and I draw pictures, we still get to the same answers.
I know I could never do his job as a lawyer, and I am pretty sure he would find my line of work as a writer and water-color artist difficult. The trick has been to find him cute when he does things differently from me instead of being annoyed. Difference can be an exciting learning experience if we let it. I told Arnfinn one day, “If you can teach me some things and maybe I can teach you some, we will turn out OK one day.” We both have to be teachable, and it’s an ongoing process. Admiration has become a key word.

Another trial in my life occurred with I was the age of most of you students. It was August 1976. I too was a student here at BYU–Hawaii. I had returned from faithfully serving a mission in Mexico-Veracruz. I was in love, and was about to ask my future father-in-law permission for my wife’s hand in marriage. Kanani and I had spent the day together selecting a humble wedding ring. I remember it as a small white gold ring with a little diamond dust on it. Being a poor student, this was all I could afford.

It was Monday and we had planned to let each of our families know during each of the FHE’s that evening. I had dropped Kanani off at her house in Kahaluu, and then rushed home to Punaluu to get ready. I will not at this time share the details of what happened next, but let you know that I was in a large gasoline explosion, and as a result forty percent of my body was covered in burns, the majority of which were third degree burns.

I was given a priesthood blessing by my Elder’s Quorum President that just happened to be at my house at the time, he then rushed me to the hospital in his truck. Later at the hospital I received another priesthood blessing from my father. I have never experienced a greater pain in my entire life than with this experience. My burns were so bad that the doctors told me that I would be transferred to a burns center on the mainland where I would undergo skin grafts, and that this process would take many months to complete and to heal.

Through the countless prayers that were made on my behalf by my family, friends, and ward members, and through the power of the priesthood, I was the recipient of a miracle. They did not have to fly me to a burns center on the mainland, in fact I did not receive any skin grafts. Where my flesh had been chard and my skin burnt away, new skin formed and grew by itself.

As I recognized that I was witnessing a miracle, and that I was starting to heal without any scars, I thanked the Lord and promised Him that I would always honor my Temple covenants and would always make sure that I was properly clothed in my garments. I then asked for the Lord to leave me a small scar that would always remind me of this miracle. He left a small scar on my leg as I had asked. Now every time I get dressed this small scar reminds me of these sacred covenants that I have made and the miracle that took place with this experience.

This trial taught me and those who prayed on my behalf, about the power of Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, the power of prayer, the power of His Priesthood, and that miracles still take place in these days. It also showed me how much my future wife loved me, and that she would stand by me through adversity and trials. In just ten days I was released from the hospital instead of after months in a burns center. After three weeks of convalescing in my home, I returned to BYU–Hawaii to resume my studies and to play for the Seasider basketball team.

Last year I was on a really great Little League baseball team. We all got along really well and were supportive of each other. We had a great coach, and even the parents were all positive. I was the only member of the Church on the team, but everyone used only good language and was kind to everyone else, even when someone made a mistake.
One day the coach arranged for a professional pitching coach to come and practice with us, but it was on a Sunday. When I told my coach I wouldn’t be there, he said, “Taylor, I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” He was pleased with me for doing what I knew was right.

I was in the Salt Lake Tabernacle when Wilford Woodruff delivered what I think was the last talk he gave before he died, that in which he told how marvelously the Spirit of the Lord had guided and directed him through the years of his life. It has been over eighty years ago, but I can remember to this day some of the things that he spoke in that conference. I am going to mention a couple of them; you have heard them, but I heard him give them.

While he was traveling with his wife in the South, once in the middle of the night the Spirit said, “Get up and move your team and wagon.” He got up out of his wagon and moved his team from where it was tied to an oak–then along came a twister and picked that oak up and threw it right where his wagon had been standing. That oak had stood a hundred years, and yet while he was in his wagon that night a twister came and picked it up. And I can hear Brother Woodruff saying, “If I hadn’t listened to the Spirit of the Lord, it might have cost us our lives.” Then he told, in that same conference, about bringing a group of converts from Great Britain. They landed down in New Orleans and he was negotiating with a captain there to take them up the river to St. Louis, where they had arranged to cross the plains to these valleys of the mountains. And, he said, while he was negotiating, something said, “Don’t go on that boat, neither you nor your people.” So he thanked the captain and they did not embark. That boat had no more than sailed up the river when it caught fire and burned, and not a soul on it was saved. And I can hear President Woodruff as he stood there, all these eighty years ago, saying, “If I hadn’t listened to the promptings of the spirit of the Lord, we wouldn’t have had Brother So-and-so [naming one of the good Brethren] and Brother So-and-so”—another of the good Brethren who was with him in that group he brought from Europe.

I was in Idaho Falls and was the guest in a home of a typical Church family. There were a dedicated set of parents and many children. The oldest was in military duty in the dreaded South Pacific, and the hearts of the family followed him from place to place. They handed me his latest letter from the war zone. I read this:
“There have been times when we were so scared, we would tremble, but the fear went out of our minds with prayer and the knowledge that we were being guided by the Lord.
“Dad, I love my religion and I am proud that I had someone like you and Mother to teach me to pray. Then I also know that you are praying for me each morning and night. …”
Spirituality is born in the home and is nurtured in the home evenings, in the twice-a-day and oftener daily prayers, in the weekly meetings when the family goes en masse. That spirituality as the foundation of one’s life comes to his rescue when emergency strikes.
Security is not born of inexhaustible wealth but of unquenchable faith. And generally that kind of faith is born and nurtured in the home and in childhood.
Prayer is the passport to spiritual power.

They don’t get chased by dogs or have companions. They don’t write letters home on preparation days because they still live at home, in Pleasant Grove, Utah. But the Willeys—Anthony, 18, Elizabeth, 16, and Kristina, 14—are still missionaries, music missionaries, actually. They were set apart in the Salt Lake Tabernacle.
“When I was set apart,” Elizabeth says grinning, “I was told, ‘Now you’re the youngest sister missionary.’ It made me feel special.” And she enjoyed being the youngest sister missionary until a year or so later when her little sister Kristina was set apart and took over as the youngest.
As music missionaries, Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina can share the gospel without ever opening their mouths. Anthony says music missionaries can reach people that regular missionaries might not be able to.
“Music reaches people who wouldn’t hear about the Church any other way. It isn’t like knocking on a door and going into someone’s house; it’s more subtle,” he says.
Elizabeth says, “People listening to good music will feel the Spirit, and when they feel the Spirit, they’re willing to learn more.”
So do the Willeys lug their violins, violas, and basses from door to door playing inspirational music for people? Not exactly. If you’ve ever seen a Church music broadcast or attended one on Temple Square, you’ve probably seen how Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina share the gospel through music. They are some of the youngest members of the Orchestra at Temple Square.
Being so young compared to the other members of the orchestra doesn’t bother these teens a bit. They actually love it. Elizabeth says, “Even though there are only a few members under 20 in the orchestra, I feel like I fit in. I think it’s great because there isn’t any goofing off. Everyone had to work so hard to get here.”
How did they get to be in such a prestigious orchestra at such a young age? “Lots and lots of practice,” Anthony says.
To be in the Orchestra at Temple Square you have to be one of the top musicians in the Church, able to play whatever difficult piece might be put in front of you. And it’s a huge time commitment.
Kristina says, “Being a part of the Orchestra at Temple Square is my favorite thing I’ve ever done, but it’s been a sacrifice. It’s hard to find time for homework and friends because we have to practice every day and rehearse several times a week.”
But Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina all say the hard work is worth it.
“It’s neat to be able to see the audience’s reaction when we perform,” Elizabeth says. “The Spirit is always there. It makes me feel like all my hard work has paid off.”
The teens’ mom and dad go to their concerts and sit up in the balcony where they can see all their children. Their mother, Denise, says, “When the music gets going, the Spirit sweeps over me and over the whole audience.”
The beautiful music the orchestra plays on Temple Square helps many people feel the Spirit. After the concerts are over, members of the audience can learn more about the Church from the full-time and Church service missionaries standing at the doors.
Anthony loves the missionary opportunities that being a member of the Orchestra at Temple Square has given him. “Being a member of the orchestra has made me want to be a better person,” he says, “and it has prepared me to be a better full-time missionary.”
Anthony, Elizabeth, and Kristina are not the only members of their family involved in music. Their younger siblings Alexander, Catherine, and Rebekah (also pictured above) have also been playing instruments nearly as long as they’ve been able to walk. The Willeys agree that music helps bind their family together. They also say that good music can bless everyone’s life, whether they play an instrument or not. Elizabeth says, “Anyone can enjoy music on some level. You don’t have to be a professional musician.”
Anthony says, “There are lots of opportunities for teens to learn music. You can sing in a ward youth choir or join your school band, choir, or orchestra.”
Alexander, 13, says listening to good music helps him with his schoolwork. He says, “Listening to Mozart before a test can help you perform well. Good music can clear your mind so you can learn or remember things better.”
Kristina listens to uplifting music when she’s sad because it makes her feel better. She says, “Good music can invite the Spirit. It’s like a prayer” (see D&C 25:12).

President David O. McKay, in an address given at an annual Relief Society Conference in 1947, the centennial year of the Saints’ arrival in the valley, talked of the criticism given by a teacher conducting a class, who commented that it was very unwise to have even permitted the Saints to cross the plains under such circumstances, and they were talking about the Willie and Martin handcart companies who left later than they should have. President McKay said:
Some sharp criticism of the Church and its leaders was being indulged in for permitting any company of converts to venture across the plains with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan afforded.
An old man in the corner [and this was written by President William Palmer, who was present] sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it, then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. His face was white with emotion, yet he spoke calmly, deliberately, but with great earnestness and sincerity.
In substance the father above mentioned said, “I ask you to stop this criticism. You are discussing a matter you know nothing about. Cold historic facts mean nothing here, for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved. Mistake to send the Handcart Company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife was in it and Sister Nellie Unthank whom you have cited was there, too. We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities.
“I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it.” [And a wife with a baby in her arms by his side!] “I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.
“Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.” [“Pioneer Women,” Relief Society Magazine, January 1948, p. 8]

My third example is more modern. In Tongan Saints: Legacy of Faith, Brigham Young University—Hawaii president Eric B. Shumway shares something he experienced as a young missionary in Tonga. He was invited to the evening meal of a faithful Tongan family who were living in extreme poverty. Brother Shumway writes:

“Now the Kinikini family had no plantation and no animals on Tongatapu, except for a small flock of ducks that eventually dwindled to one little duckling. When I sat down on the floor in the family circle that night, four young children watched their mother put pieces of boiled breadfruit before each one of us. Then, before me, she put a freshly boiled duckling. The sight and the aroma of this delicacy made a visible impression on the children who were sitting quietly with their hands clasped in their lap. It was clear that the duckling was for me.

“‘I’ll not eat this by myself,’ I said to [Brother] Tevita Muli. ‘We will all share.’

“Before I could start dividing it, Tevita Muli quickly interrupted, ‘No, you will eat it by yourself. It is yours!’

“‘But your children?’ I protested.

“‘They do not want to touch it,’ he continued. ‘You honor them by eating it yourself. Some day they will be proud to tell their children they went without kiki (meat), so that a servant of the Lord might eat and be filled’” ([1991], 10).

A dollar bought much more in 1947 than it does now. I was seven years old then and in the second grade at Woodland Elementary School. Emily was in my class, and I truly detested her because she was forever bragging about everything. One day she bragged that she could bring a whole dollar to school the next day—just to spend on candy! She was sure that I couldn’t. She really made me mad, and so what else could I do but retort that I, too, could bring a dollar the next day to spend on candy. Of course, I didn’t have a dollar, but somehow I had to get one.
My grandmother lived with us, and I planned to “borrow” a dollar from her purse, then put it back after I had shown it to Emily at school. I waited until I was alone in the same room with Grandma’s purse. I knew I was doing wrong, but I disregarded the Holy Ghost’s warning, telling myself, I’m only borrowing the money. What harm can there be in that?
The next morning I put Grandma’s dollar into my pocket and waited for the school bus. When I bragged about having a whole dollar to spend on candy, even though I didn’t plan to actually spend it, I found out that I was the most popular child in the neighborhood. Everyone wanted to be my best friend! The glory of that moment was simply wonderful. It was so wonderful, in fact, that I decided to spend the whole dollar on candy, after all.
Carol, my best friend, begged and begged me to let her take the dollar to her class that morning. She would give it back to me at lunchtime. She begged so hard that I finally let her take it.
I expected Emily to be waiting for me at the classroom door to see my dollar, but she wasn’t. In fact, when she did come to class, she didn’t mention her dollar or my dollar. This was a surprise, but I was greatly relieved. Now I was free to change my mind again and put the money back into Grandma’s purse.
I was busy doing my schoolwork when Mr. Apple, the school principal, came into the classroom and said, “Ann Jensen, come with me, please.”
Trembling, I followed the principal to an empty classroom, where he pulled something out of his pocket and said, “Carol was playing with this money in her class this morning. Mrs. Brown felt that it was a lot of money for a child to be playing with, so she asked her about it. Carol said that it’s your money. Is that right?”
I was so taken by surprise that for a moment I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Finally I looked at the floor and said, “Yes, I saved it.”
“All this money?” Mr. Apple asked in an even voice.
For the first time I took a good look at the “dollar.” It wasn’t one dollar, but ten dollars! I had been in such a rush to get the money from Grandma’s purse that I hadn’t noticed that I’d taken a ten-dollar bill!
With tears streaming down my cheeks, I sobbed, “I took it out of my grandma’s purse.”
The awful truth had been told, and at first I felt relieved for having confessed my sin. Then Mr. Apple told me that he was going to call my grandmother and tell her about the money. That was what I dreaded most—Grandma’s disappointment in me!
I was engulfed with remorse. I just leaned against the school building during recess because I felt so ashamed and sorrowful.
Mr. Apple drove me home from school that day. We rode in silence. I wondered what I could say to my family and what they would do to me for stealing Grandma’s money. When he stopped in front of my house, Mr. Apple gave me the ten-dollar bill to return to my grandmother.
Grandma was at the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes for dinner.
“I don’t feel very well,” I said as I handed her the ten dollars.
“I don’t suppose you would,” she replied. And that was that!
I went into my bedroom to get over my “illness.” Nothing else was ever said of the incident. Nothing else had to be.

His love of drawing has given him a chance to cheer others and has helped him gain some interesting friends as well. When Brad was eleven years old, he was watching a car race on television. He was stunned to see a car crash and burn in the pits. One of the men severely injured was Derrick Walker, the manager of a racing team.
“I drew a race car and sent it to him in the hospital as a get-well card. After that, he sent me a thank-you letter. We’ve been friends ever since,” says Brad. That simple correspondence has blossomed into a special relationship. Since then, Walker and Roger Penske, another racing friend, have flown Brad and a guest to major races each year.

Today I want to consider with you how asking questions with faith can improve our learning by helping us not only to find truth, but to be found and changed by truth. I want to begin by showing you some home movies. Let me show you a wonderful little episode in my five-year-old Richard’s first experience with the beach and the ocean. We were just north of San Diego and had been playing on the beach for some forty or fifty minutes. I had been taking a video shot of several sailboats and just happened to catch little Richard on Candid Camera. He had been watching and trying to follow the example of his older brother A. J., who is eleven and was bodysurfing. Notice the way Richard questions and how he learns from asking and hearing answers to these questions. (A video clip was shown.)
I love the straightforwardness, the honesty, of Richard’s questions. It’s no wonder that children, at least those who approach their learning so openly, with such direct questions, learn so rapidly. I am also overwhelmed by Richard’s faith in my answers. “Will I die?” he asks. All it takes is a simple “no” from me and he is on to the next question. However, it isn’t that he takes everything I say without question. When I start to talk about boogie boards he corrects my misunderstanding quickly and then asks his question again about how A. J. does bodysurfing. Richard, of course, experiments on my words according to his ability, which is not great, but he learns quickly and is filled with joy by his learning.