Gospel Story Finder

From the age of five, all I wanted to do after I left school was to join the army. I was obsessed with everything to do with it; books and films, and particularly anything to do with the modern British Army. At age 14, I joined the Air Training Corps (ATC). But why join the Air Force cadets? My school was visited by a senior member of the recruitment section of the ATC; following their presentation, it became clear that joining the ATC was the only option open to me at the time, I just jumped at the chance.
The ATC was completely different from the army cadets; the only similarity was the marching and access to guns, for shooting on the range and for ceremonial purposes. An advantage of the ATC was that on several occasions I got to fly in a Chipmunk, a two-seater aeroplane, and in gliders—so much fun.
By the time I was sixteen I was once more focussed on the army. Because of this, I got very low marks in school exams. But I did not care because I knew what I wanted to do. As soon as I turned 17, I was ready to join the army. I took the entrance exam and passed. All that remained was the medical, but that was a disaster! I failed because I was two stones overweight. For the next five weeks I worked harder than ever to lose the weight and, thankfully, I succeeded.
When I returned for the follow-up medical, the doctor could not believe I was the same person. After signing some papers, I was given a date and a place to attend for training. As I was under 18, my mum had very reluctantly signed the consent form, though after failing my first medical she had hoped that I would change my mind—but, no chance.
Departure day finally came. I said farewell to my family and made my way to Sutton Coldfield, the army’s selection centre in the North of England. The five-day selection process was gruelling, mentally, and physically. I wanted to join the infantry, the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers. I was drawn to that wonderful part of the cap badge, the red and white hackle. It made the wearer stand out in a crowd, just like a peacock, and at my age at the time, every young man was a bit of a peacock.
Once selection was over, I was sent with several other young men to Bassingbourn barracks in Hertfordshire for thirteen weeks of intensive training. The training as an infantryman was tough, involving a lot of running and strength-based activities. Luckily for me, after I had lost the weight, I continued to work out, so I was no stranger to vigorous exercise.
During the thirteenth week we had our final test, a 20-mile speed march, carrying a full pack on our backs. It was a killer, but I made it. Out of an initial class of 40 recruits, I passed with nineteen others. It was a proud day for me and my family, including my mum. The rest of my career was served with the 2nd Battalion Royal Regiment of Fusiliers in places such as Northern Ireland, Germany and various European countries.

One day I was working in my office at Brigham Young University, counseling students with academic problems. It was February 15, 1980. A phone call came from Salt Lake City to inform me that President Kimball wanted me to come to his home that same afternoon at 4:00 P.M. When I went home for lunch I told my wife that President Kimball wanted to see me, she laughed and thought I was teasing her. My heart pounded with excitement as I sat in the presence of the prophet and heard him say: “You have been selected to be the president of the first temple in Asia.” What an honor and privilege to be called to such a sacred responsibility! Quickly my mind went over my weaknesses and inabilities. My lack of understanding in the language and other shortcomings seemed insurmountable. Then, the scriptures in 1st Nephi 3:7 came to mind. “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the things which he commandeth them.” [1 Ne. 3:7] This gave me courage to accept the call.
Since that day many exciting things have happened. The selecting of Yukus Inouye as first counselor and Yasuhiro Matsushita as second counselor and recorder has added strength and balance to the temple presidency. Being set apart as the president of the temple and then given the sealing power by President Kimball, who was assisted by President Tanner and President Romney, was an unforgettable experience. Putting our home and personal affairs in order came next. Following that we received training from faithful and devoted workers in the Salt Lake, Provo, and Hawaii temples. We were now several steps closer to returning to Japan.
On July 8, 1980 we arrived at Narita airport. Many friends were there to meet us, carrying a banner of greeting. When we saw the words, “Welcome Home,” our hearts felt a special glow, for we truly felt like we were coming home and we were thrilled to be here. The temple was more beautiful and much larger than we had imagined. We express our deepest gratitude to all the dedicated members and nonmembers who have labored hard and long to build this magnificent structure. They have been guided and strengthened by the spirit of the Lord to construct an extraordinary monument to Him. I am sure He is pleased with their labors.

Brother Truman G. Madsen tells about a visit he made to Israel with President Hugh B. Brown (1883–1975), an Apostle of the Lord who served as Second Counselor and then First Counselor in the First Presidency. In a valley known as Hebron, where tradition has it that the tomb of Father Abraham is located, Brother Madsen asked President Brown, “What are the blessings of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?” After a short moment of thought, President Brown answered, “Posterity.”
Brother Madsen writes: “I almost burst out, ‘Why, then, was Abraham commanded to go to Mount Moriah and offer his only hope of posterity?’
“It was clear that [President Brown], nearly ninety, had thought and prayed and wept over that question before. He finally said, ‘Abraham needed to learn something about Abraham’” (The Highest in Us [1978], 49).

Although Joseph was only eight years old when he and his family moved to Winter Quarters, Nebraska, he and his friends were responsible for taking care of the cows.
One day, the boys were watching the grazing cattle outside of town. They were suddenly attacked by Indians. Joseph’s friends were frightened and rode their horses home. Joseph was frightened, too, but he tried to drive the cattle to safety.
3. Joseph and his horse were moving fast, but the Indians were going faster. When Joseph looked to his right, there was an Indian alongside him! There was one on his left, too!
4. Joseph didn’t know what to do. The Indians reached over and grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him from his horse. Then they dropped him to the ground and rode off with the horse.
5. Even though several horses galloped over Joseph, he was unhurt. Joseph was very brave, and he continued to be brave throughout his life. When he was older, he became the sixth President of the Church.

Born on January 8, 1805, in Oxford, Connecticut, Orson was the tenth child in a family of eleven born to Nathan and Sally Thorpe Hyde. At seven Orson was left homeless; then his mother died shortly after giving birth to her 11th child, and his father drowned in 1817. Homeless and orphaned, Orson was placed in the care of Nathan Wheeler of Derby, Connecticut, with whom he lived until he was 18. He was apparently happy, but as he matured, a yearning for education made him restless. However, before he could leave the Wheelers to seek an education, Mr. Wheeler’s business failed and the family moved from Connecticut to the cheap, fertile land of Kirtland, Ohio. Orson was 14 years old and walked the entire 600 miles with clothing and food in a knapsack slung over his back. The trip was exhausting but good experience for many similar adventures yet to come.

After he received the gold plates, Joseph Smith’s life was threatened and many attempts were made to steal the plates. Joseph and Emma, his wife, moved to Harmony, Pennsylvania, and Martin Harris, a friend from Palmyra, New York, came to visit.
Mr. Harris … returned again to my house about the 12th of April, 1828, and commenced writing for me while I translated from the plates, which we continued until the 14th of June following, by which time he had written one hundred and sixteen pages of manuscript. … Mr. Harris … began to importune (beg) me to [let] him … carry the writings home and show them; and desired of me that I would inquire of the Lord … if he might not do so. I did inquire, and the answer was that he must not. However, he was not satisfied with this answer, and desired that I should inquire again. I did so, and the answer was as before. Still he … insisted that I should inquire once more. … Permission was granted … on certain conditions; which were, that he show them only to his brother, Preserved Harris, his own wife, his father and his mother, and a Mrs. Cobb, a sister to his wife. In accordance with this last answer, I required of him that he should bind himself in a covenant to me … that he would not do otherwise than had been directed. … He bound himself as I required of him, took the writings, and went his way.
Martin Harris had been gone for three weeks, and Joseph had heard nothing from him. Joseph took a stagecoach, then walked the last twenty miles in the dark to his parents’ home in Manchester, near Palmyra. He immediately sent for Martin. Several hours later, Martin arrived and explained that the manuscript pages had been lost.
Notwithstanding … the great restrictions which [Martin Harris] had been laid under, and the solemnity [seriousness] of the covenant which he had made with me, he did show [the manuscript pages] to others, and by stratagem they got them away from him, and they never have been recovered unto this day.
I should have been satisfied with the first answer which I received from the Lord; for he told me that it was not safe to let the writing go out of my possession.
I returned immediately home. Soon after my arrival, I commenced humbling myself in mighty prayer before the Lord … that if possible I might obtain mercy at his hands and be forgiven of all that I had done contrary to his will.
Both the plates and the Urim and Thummim were taken from me … ; but in a few days they were returned to me, … and the Lord said thus unto me:
“Now, behold, I say unto you, that because you delivered up those writings … into the hands of a wicked man, you have lost them.
“And you also lost your gift [of translation] at the same time, and your mind became darkened.
“Nevertheless, it is now restored unto you again; therefore see that you are faithful and continue on unto the finishing of the remainder of the work of translation as you have begun.” (D&C 10:1–3.)
The Lord told Joseph Smith that the people who stole the manuscript planned to change some of the words. If Joseph translated the same plates again, the thieves would show the pages they had altered and say that Joseph wasn’t a prophet because the two translations weren’t identical. The Lord long ago commanded the Book of Mormon prophet Nephi to prepare a second set of plates covering the same things, and He told Joseph to translate this set, instead.
(See History of the Church, vol. 1, pages 18–24; The History of Joseph Smith, Lucy Mack Smith, pages 128, 133.)

On June 1, 1843, Addison Pratt left Nauvoo, Illinois, to preach the gospel in the Hawaiian Islands, leaving his wife, Louisa Barnes Pratt, to care for their young family.

In Nauvoo, as persecutions intensified, forcing the Saints to leave, and later at Winter Quarters as they prepared to migrate to the Salt Lake Valley, Louisa faced the decision of whether to make the journey. It would have been easier to stay and to wait for Addison to return than to travel alone.

On both occasions, she sought guidance from the prophet, Brigham Young, who encouraged her to go. Despite the great difficulty and her personal reluctance, she successfully made the journey each time.

Initially, Louisa found little joy in traveling. However, she soon began to welcome the green prairie grass, colorful wildflowers, and patches of ground along the riverbanks. “The gloom on my mind wore gradually away,” she recorded, “and there was not a more mirthful woman in the whole company.”

Louisa’s story has deeply inspired me. I admire her willingness to set aside her personal preferences, her ability to trust God, and how exercising her faith helped her to see the situation differently.

She has reminded me that we have a loving Father in Heaven, who cares for us wherever we are, and that we can trust Him more than anyone or anything else.

One of the most profound means of instilling a righteous image in our children is through the use of scripture and family stories. My own image of what I wanted to be began with stories of my great-grandfather, Robert D. Young. He lived to be ninety-five years old and died when I was fourteen years old. But I love the man as much as if he had walked with me and taught me every step I was to take.
I have few recollections of my own concerning him, but I was raised on stories about him. One of my favorites told of how as a young teenager he had hired on with a group of cowboys to run a herd of cattle from Colorado to Texas. During the first few days of the journey, the owner of the herd, a very wealthy man with no family of his own, rode with the group, but then left to attend to other business. As the cowboys made their way to Texas, the other men, all older than grandfather, spent their free time in pursuits that grandfather didn’t consider worthwhile. Instead of joining them, he would find a quiet spot and study mathematics and engineering.
The night before they arrived at their destination, the other cowboys decided they wanted to go into a nearby town and celebrate their safe arrival. They tried to get grandfather to go, but grandfather insisted that he had been hired to tend the cattle, and he would do just that. Later that night, the owner returned to find grandfather alone with his cattle. He was so impressed that he offered grandfather one-half of all he owned if he would become his business partner. Grandfather would have never again wanted for anything, but he refused. He said he just didn’t feel like that was what the Lord wanted him to do.
Many times during my youth I remember thinking, “I want to be just like my grandfather!” Other times I would ask myself, “Now what would grandfather do?” and then act accordingly.

On an August night three years ago, the Thornton family was in Roseburg, Oregon, at a baseball game. Before making the two-hour drive home to Reedsport, they stopped at a park to eat. The weary family then climbed back into their van that was stuffed with baseball equipment. At 11:30 P.M. the van pulled into their driveway, and the sleepy riders crawled out only to discover that six-year-old Greg wasn’t with them. Everyone panicked!
“Our focus wasn’t on anything except where he might be,” said LaRee Thornton, Greg’s mother. “We called 911, and it put us right through to the Roseburg police. My husband, Steve, started explaining the situation, and they said, ‘It’s OK. He’s right here.’ A Good Samaritan had found Greg alone at the park, shaking with fear. The man had wrapped him in a blanket and taken him to the police station.
Everyone wanted to go back to Roseburg to get Greg, but only Mom and Dad went; the rest of the family stayed at home, prayed, and waited. “It was 2:30 A.M. when we got back,” Mom continued. “Everybody had stayed up. Nobody wanted to sleep alone in their bedrooms that night, so we all slept in the living room together. Now we always want to make sure we know where everyone is. We’re kinder to each other and appreciate one another more.”

Several years ago I spoke at a meeting for members and investigators in the Peru Lima South Mission. I don’t know why I started talking about revelation and the importance of having a prophet. But as I did, I noticed two young men on the first row listening attentively and taking notes. After the meeting, those two young men came to me and said, “You talk about prophets and about revelation. We thought that there weren’t any prophets after John the Baptist.” The young men had been sent by the local priest to find out what I said. I had to leave on an airplane soon and didn’t have time to explain more about prophets and revelation. However, I did tell them that if they wanted to have personal revelation, they should read the Book of Mormon and follow the counsel in Moroni 10. I gave them each a Book of Mormon and marked Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]. Three months later, I received a letter from those young men telling me that they had been baptized. One year later, I received another letter saying that they were both preparing to go on missions. The Book of Mormon was what converted them.

Perhaps you are aware that my family were refugees from Mexico. During the years that followed our arrival in the United States, Father had a difficult time getting enough food to feed his family. I remember the time about two years after we came out of Mexico (that would be about 1914) when Father got a job in Oakley, Idaho, teaching in the Cassia Academy for $80 a month.
When Father and his brother left Mexico, they both had large families. Knowing that they would have a difficult time making a living (they brought nothing out of Mexico except what they could bring in one trunk), they joined together and pooled their earnings. After a short stay in El Paso, Texas, they went together to Los Angeles, California, where they worked as carpenters. Later they moved to Oakley, Idaho, where they could raise their families in a Latter-day Saint environment. When one of them was out of work, they divided the income of the other and thus eked out an existence for both families. My uncle was out of work one winter in Idaho. That left them the $80 my father received for teaching with which to support about seventeen people. They had to pay rent; they had to buy everything they ate; and they would have had to buy fuel, except I went out on the hillside and dug the sagebrush from under the snow for fuel. I kept warm digging, and Mother kept warm poking it into the stove.
The question came up in the family council—should father pay tithing on that $80? If he didn’t he would have $40 a month to care for the family; if he did, it would be cut down by $4, and he would have $36 a month. I remember that council, and I remember that they decided they would pay their tithing; and I remember they sent me with the tithing to the bishop. It was cold, and I didn’t have warm clothes; I really wondered what had gone wrong with Father. But I learned from that—the training of my parents—I learned there is truth in the Lord’s promises.

“We hosted a spa night for the Activity Day girls to help them get excited to move from Primary to Young Women. We served the younger girls by doing their hair and nails. One girl I didn’t know very well was sitting alone. I went and asked if she wanted her nails done. She got this big smile on her face and nodded. She was really excited to have an older girl help her. It was a good lesson for me because sometimes I’m kind of shy about talking to people I don’t know very well. I know she was really happy when I went and talked with her.”
Kara W., 13, Washington, USA

Other experiences may not be so dramatic but are nevertheless real and heartwarming. I recall an elderly couple whose frame home, situated at the end of a dirt lane, had not seen a coat of paint for too many years. These were neat and tidy people; they were concerned about the appearance of their small house. In a moment of inspiration I called, not upon the elders quorum or upon volunteers to wield paint brushes, but rather, following the welfare handbook, upon the family members who lived in other areas. Four sons-in-law and four daughters took brushes in hand and participated in the project. The paint had been provided by a dealer located in our area. The result was a transformation not only of the house but of the family. The children determined how they might best help mother and dad in their old age. They did so voluntarily and with gladness of heart. A house was painted, a family united, and respect preserved.

I’m from Guadalajara, Mexico. I love eating traditional Mexican food, especially tlayudas (large tortillas with yummy toppings), and celebrating Mexican Independence Day and the Day of the Dead.
Recently, my parents got divorced. At first, I felt like it was my fault, but I now know it wasn’t. If you are going through something similar, please know it’s not your fault either. I’ve learned that reading the scriptures helps and that it’s good to consider seeing a psychologist or trying new things like baking, drawing, or exercising.
Though this experience has been very difficult, I’m not worried anymore. Going to church, listening to God, and keeping His commandments have helped me increase my faith.
Sometimes when you are going through something hard, it’s easy to distance yourself from God. But as I’ve fasted and prayed fervently, I’ve stayed on the right path. I know God loves me.

My family moved near Manti, Utah, in my sophomore year of high school. We lived at a place called Crystal Springs. By then, it was only a skeleton of more prosperous earlier years, when it had been a popular resort and, thereafter, a large dairy farm operated by my grandfather Giles and his family, including my folks.
We moved to Crystal Springs after my father had a heart attack and lost his job. We didn’t have much in those days, so it was necessary for my father to work as much as he could and for me to take employment as a plasterer’s helper to supplement the family income.
Although my parents were less active in the Church, my mother’s family, also living at Crystal Springs, fortunately were very active. They provided the critical support I needed to stay active in the Church at that time.
Of those high school days, I can remember many nights sitting on the edge of my bed, looking out at the Manti Utah Temple through my second-story bedroom window. I realized that, regardless of whether my folks had ever been there, the temple was a place I wanted to be able to go someday. The temple became a standard for me to measure everything else against.
It was during this time in my life that I began to feel the need to serve a mission. The promises made in D&C 31:5 began to play upon me: “Therefore, thrust in your sickle with all your soul, and your sins are forgiven you, and you shall be laden with sheaves upon your back. … Wherefore, your family shall live” (emphasis added). The two key promises in that verse became increasingly meaningful to me.
I made up my mind that I was going to serve a mission. I needed some method of showing the Lord that I truly did love Him in spite of my sometimes foolish youthful actions.
So, with the temple as a standard and a desire to serve a mission, I started to plan for a mission. Not long after that, my father had another heart attack and died. I was still in my first years at the university. With the death of my father, I suddenly realized that if I were to go on a mission, there would be no one to take care of my mother, grandmother, and two sisters.
I was torn between my sense of obligation toward my family and my obligation to Heavenly Father. I wasn’t even sure I could save enough money to get started on a mission, but I was determined that, if it were possible, I would go. I made a decision based totally on my faith in the Lord’s promise: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt. 6:33).
Not long after, I received an offer to work at a very good job as an engineering aide in Oregon, in the western United States, which permitted me to save for a mission and send some money home. Still, it wasn’t easy. But as I pondered D&C 31:5 and Matthew 6:33, the Spirit said to me, “If you will seek first my kingdom (a mission), I will take care of your family.” I didn’t know how that would be possible, but I believed the Lord’s promises with all my heart.
When the time neared for me to leave, I still didn’t have all the money I would need to support myself, so I went to my bishop and explained my predicament. He said, “All the help you need you’ve got right at your fingertips.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
He told me to talk to my relatives, even to nonmembers and less-active members, to see if they would help me. “Go bear your testimony to them,” he said. “Tell them you want to serve the Lord, and ask for their help.”
I didn’t know how I was going to do that, but I did, and all those I asked said they would help a little. The high priests group in my ward helped me with the rest.
I was soon on my way to the Spanish-American Mission, based in San Antonio, Texas. After I got into the mission field, the things that took place, both there and at home, clearly confirmed that I had made the right decision. My family was being taken care of as well or better than if I had stayed home, and the joy of missionary service had changed my heart and the direction of my life.
My mission became the great turning point in my life. I could tell myself and my family at home that I knew I was doing what the Lord wanted me to do and that, although I didn’t know how everything was going to work out, I knew it would work out the best for all of us.
During the time I was in the mission field, my mother began to come back to church. And when my sweetheart and I married after my mission, my mother was able to be in the temple with us. Many of those who assisted in financing my mission also drew closer to the Church.

A little over 34 years ago, when yet a high school student, I was first contacted by the missionaries—who invited me to attend MIA and join their basketball team. Not knowing anything about the Church, but being very interested in basketball, I attended MIA. Later I attended Sunday School, then sacrament meeting.
After a year of attendance and studying the gospel with the missionaries, and having read the story of Joseph Smith’s first vision, I accepted the invitation to be baptized into the Church. That evening, I returned home, having committed myself to baptism, to ask my widowed mother for permission to be baptized.
Suddenly I saw tears in her eyes. I asked her why was she shedding tears. And she answered, saying, “These are not tears of joy, but of sadness”—for she had just lost another son. In her widowhood she had lost a son—my brother—and so she said she had just lost another son to a Christian church.
She later explained that at my father’s deathbed she had promised and covenanted with him to raise the children honorably in the Buddhist faith. I quickly assured my mother that in the year that I had been associating with the missionaries, I had always been lifted up and had learned nothing but good things from them.
I promised her that if she would permit me to be baptized and later found that through my behavior I had caused her any embarrassment—or committed some shameful or dishonorable act—then all she had to do was ask me to stop going to church, and I would, without question, obey her will.
However, on the other hand, if I became a better person—more attentive to her needs as a widow, more kind toward the demands of home, brothers, and sisters—then, I said, “Would you permit me to continue to go to church? Because I know that this is the place where I can gain an education for an eternal life.”
It is my testimony today that I never had to leave the Church nor cause my mother any concern about my behavior. As I lived the gospel principles taught by the missionaries, and as I studied the principles myself, I had the assurance from my Father in heaven that my future outcome would be one that I would never have to worry about.

Dean Ieremia’s dream of developing his skills “to be playing with the boys on TV” came true recently. On 30 April he played his debut game in Australia’s rugby league, with top-rated Melbourne Storm.
A member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he says, “I made a promise to God that if I could improve my ability to play, I would keep the commandments. I set some standards and my faith motivated me to keep them. I put in the hard work and God gave me the opportunity.”
Ieremia continues, “One of the reasons why I choose to play for Melbourne is because the club puts family first, and family is important to me.”
He thanks his parents for their unfailing support through many challenges and trials. He says he was surprised and delighted to see the large group of family and friends at the game, holding a huge poster of him.
The hometown local played solid defense in his debut. He represented Victoria from the under 14’s through to the under 20’s and played for the Storm’s junior and feeder teams before getting a late call up to the NRL side in round eight.

Many people would think Paula was doing all she could, but she decided that her peers needed to do more than escape bad situations; they needed chances to participate in good ones. Paula noticed that a large number of athletically talented Hispanic students were not involved in school sports. When she invited them to join her on the track team, she found that the problem was not lack of talent or desire, but a lack of money to provide physical exams, sports insurance, and track shoes.
Paula found a local health facility that was willing to do the examinations for free if each person was prompt for the appointments. She then petitioned service clubs and individuals to give financial aid for shoes and insurance. Donations finally covered costs. The track team got several new members.

Romero had been looking forward to this day for a very long time. This was the day his mother and he had planned on going to the park. But that morning his mother had been called away to help a neighbor who was very ill. When she left, she promised Romero that they would still go to the park when she returned if he would do some of the household chores while she was gone. Romero told her that he would.
After his mother left, Romero started to do the things she had asked him to do. Then his friend José came by and wanted to play. Romero remembered what his mother had asked him to do and her promise that they would go to the park if he was obedient. He told José that he couldn’t play just then because he had work to do. José went home, and Romero hurried to finish the chores. When his mother came home, she was happy to see that he had done what she had asked. Because he had, she kept her promise and together they spent the afternoon at the park.

It was eleven o’clock at night. Elder Todd Bradford lay in bed, listening to the slow, even breathing of his companion as he slept across the room.
What had gone wrong? For as long as he could remember, Todd had always known the right thing to say. “Polished” was the word people used when talking about Todd.
But even from the beginning of his mission, he’d felt as if he didn’t belong. As if he were just going through the motions, copying what the other missionaries did, pretending he was like them.
But he wasn’t, and he knew it.
They said they knew the Church was true. He said it too, but sometimes he wasn’t sure if he knew or not.
They said they knew Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, but sometimes he wondered if it was just because they’d been conditioned to say that since they were kids in Primary.
He was smart, he learned fast, he quickly learned to imitate the other missionaries. There’d even been some baptisms.
He’d gotten by all right for ten months.
Until today. When they’d been tracting door to door.
Todd’s companion was Elder Stewart, who’d been in the mission field for only two weeks.
Two doors that day had done Todd in.
The first door was opened by someone not much older than Todd, wearing blue cotton slacks, a short-sleeved sport shirt. He had a tanned face and athletic build and an easy, infectious smile.
They introduced themselves. His name was Devin Anderson.
“What do you do?” Todd asked.
“I’m at the university,” Devin answered.
“Taking classes?”
“No,” Devin smiled. “Giving them.”
“You’re a professor?”
“That’s what they say.”
“You seem so young.”
“Well, I guess I’m what they call a child prodigy. I’m 20 and have a doctorate in philosophy.”
“Was that your car we saw coming in? The Corvette?”
“Yes, that’s mine. Why?”
“I always wanted to have a red Corvette.”
“Take it for a test ride if you want.”
“Really?” Todd said. And then he noticed his companion looking strangely at him. “Well, no, I guess not,” Todd continued. “We’d better just tell you why we’re here.”
Todd began to talk about their message. Devin listened with interest. When they finished, he asked with a smile, “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Why not?”
“It seems so bizarre, that’s all. Tell me, do you have any proof of what you say? Where are the gold plates these days?”
“The angel took them back.”
“Sure he did,” Devin laughed. “Really, guys, let’s be honest with each other. I don’t mind you going around looking for members, but no person with an education over the third grade could possibly swallow that story. Do you?” He was looking at Todd.
“I wouldn’t be here unless I believed it,” Todd said, mainly because he’d heard other missionaries say that.
Devin went to answer the door. A beautiful blonde stood there wearing a red jump suit that was so flashy it looked like it must be battery operated.
Devin introduced the elders. Her name was Brandi.
“Oh, how about that!” she chirped, “You both have the same first name.”
“Devin, let’s invite them to the party tonight,” Brandi said.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Devin said.
“It’s at a friend’s apartment, but they won’t mind a couple more coming along.” She gave the address.
“Hey, that’s just across from our apartment,” Todd said.
“Great, we’ll see you then. It’ll be a lot of fun,” Brandi said.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to go,” Elder Stewart said.
A few minutes later they left and continued tracting.
That was the first door.
Ten minutes later they met Sloan Thomas, a saintly looking elderly man who was the minister at a local congregation.
“How old do I look to you?” he asked them as he ushered them into his home.
“I don’t know. Maybe 45,” Elder Stewart said.
“I’m 64. God has been good to me. Now you boys just go ahead and present your message.”
When they finished, Reverend Thomas looked Todd in the eye. “I’ve spent my entire life preaching the gospel. Every waking hour I’ve had a prayer in my heart to be an instrument in God’s hand. He’s answered my prayers. I love Jesus with all my heart. And so what you say bothers me. Do you mean to tell me that what I’ve done my entire life is wrong?”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve done the best you could do,” Todd mumbled.
“Are you telling me that what I’ve said about Christ is wrong? For 40 years I’ve preached that if you’ll just accept Christ as your personal Savior, then you’ll be saved in the kingdom of God. What can possibly be wrong with that?”
“Nothing really,” Todd stammered.
“Except a person needs to be baptized by someone who has authority,” Elder Stewart said.
“And you’re saying that all these years I haven’t had any authority?”
“That’s right,” Elder Stewart said.
Reverend Thomas turned to Todd. “If God didn’t approve of what I was doing for the past 40 years, why wouldn’t he let me know?”
“He is now. That’s why we’re here,” Elder Stewart said. “We have more truth to tell you about.”
“More truth? What do you mean?”
“We have the Book of Mormon in addition to the Bible.”
“All a person needs is found in the Bible. We don’t need anything else.”
They discussed back and forth. Todd could see that Reverend Thomas was as good a man as anyone he’d ever met. How can you tell a man like that, with love and warmth in his eyes, and a face like a prophet, that he’s been wrong for 40 years of his life?
“Boys,” Reverend Thomas concluded, “I admire you for leaving your homes to come here to talk to people, but the truth is that the claims of your church are wrong. Mormons are simply not Christian. You are promoting lies by what you’re doing, and my advice to you is pack up and go home.”
For the first time in his life, Todd didn’t know what he was supposed to say.
They excused themselves and left.
After that, for the rest of the afternoon, Todd just went through the motions.
That night they had two appointments, but much to Todd’s relief, they both fell through.
He and Elder Stewart returned to their tiny apartment, got ready for bed, and said their prayers. Todd asked his companion to say the prayer.
And now Todd lay in bed and listened to his companion sleep.
He could hear music. He got up out of bed and looked out the window and across the street where the party was.
The people had left their curtains open, and he could see right into the room. They were not much older than he was. They looked like people he’d like.
A red Corvette pulled up. Devin and Brandi got out and went up the sidewalk to the apartment building where the party was. Brandi looked terrific even from across the street, and he could hear her laughter as they walked.
Todd had always hoped that someday he’d have a girl friend who looked like Brandi, except perhaps she could be a little more intelligent.
If I had a red Corvette, he thought, then girls like Brandi would go out with me too. Maybe someday, when I get off my mission. But if I’d just taken the money I’d saved for my mission, I could have put down a sizable down payment on a Corvette. Then, on a night like tonight, instead of standing here, I could be like Devin, at a party, talking with friends, with a girl like Brandi by my side.
What am I doing here? I don’t belong here. And what if Reverend Thomas is right. What if all that we tell people is wrong?
Suddenly it seemed to him that he’d spent his whole life living up to someone else’s expectations, doing what someone else wanted him to do.
Even when he was six years old, he got up month after month and bore his testimony in church, always saying that he knew the gospel was true.
What does it mean to say I know something is true? How can anyone know anything for sure? All this time I’ve been faking it. I don’t belong here. Not me. How can I convert someone when I’m not sure myself?
He closed his eyes. God, help me. I need help. Please help me, he began.
A few minutes passed. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Devin and Brandi out on the veranda of the apartment across the way. They were in a deep, passionate embrace.
He felt that was an odd way for God to answer his prayer. Watching them carry on was more than Todd could stand, so he got up and went into the kitchen.
He looked up at the one overhead light on the ceiling. It made the room look like a morgue. He made himself a peanut butter sandwich and got a carton of milk and sat down at the table, but then he decided he wasn’t hungry.
I’ll go home, he thought, and take the money I have left and buy me a red Corvette, and then I’ll just be like Devin and find me a girl like Brandi too.
It was as if he were seeing everything for the first time, and everything was tinged with gray and dust. On the table was the jar of peanut butter, a knife still coated with peanut butter, and a sandwich made with the cheapest white bread that money could buy.
Near the middle of the table, off to one side, was a stack of mission newsletters that nobody had thrown out for months. And just to the right of that was a crumpled paperback copy of the Book of Mormon that some unknown elder in the past had read while eating breakfast.
Todd picked up the book and examined it. As he turned the pages, he noticed that because it had been read during meals, some of the pages were stuck together.
In a way the glue from the food made it more of a challenge to read. He found one section of the book that was stuck together. He pried open a page in 2 Nephi, chapter 33, and began reading. “And now, my beloved brethren, and also Jew, and all ye ends of the earth, hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good.
“And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day” (2 Ne. 33:10–11).
Todd stopped reading. How odd that the very page he picked was one that testified of Christ.
How could anyone reading that say that Mormons aren’t Christian, he thought.
He picked another page at random and found on that one page alone there were five references to the Savior. And on another page, eleven references. And on another page, exact quotes from the Savior in the New World after his resurrection.
A little later he pried open the part of the book containing 3 Nephi. He began reading in chapter 11 about the Savior’s appearance to the people in the New World. For the first time in his life, he could see it all in his mind. Jesus, gently coming down from heaven, his arms outstretched, the wound marks on his hands and feet. He speaks and his voice is gentle, but at the same time, it touches the very souls of those who hear him. “Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world. And behold, I am the light and the life of the world” (3 Ne. 11:10–11).
He continued to read through much of the night.
Suddenly passages seemed to jump out at him. Passages of scripture that answered the doubt and uncertainty of his heart.
He smiled a little when he read 3 Nephi 13:19–21 [3 Ne. 13:19–21]: “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
He smiled about thinking that a red Corvette was more important than a mission. The Savior was talking about him all right.
It wasn’t the first time he’d read the scriptures. He’d read them in seminary, but mainly to find the answers to the teacher’s questions. He’d read them in missionary study class, but mainly to be doing the assignment so he could check it off as being done. This was the first time the scriptures had become his scriptures, advice for him.
It seemed that the more he read, the lighter and more cheery the room became, until for the first time in his life, he realized he knew for a certainty that what he’d read was true.
Now he knew that he’d stay on his mission and tell anyone, everyone who’d listen, about the truths found in the Book of Mormon.
He went into the bedroom and looked out the window. Across the street, the party was just now beginning to break up. Devin and Brandi slowly made their way to their car. Brandi lurched unsteadily, leaning precariously as Devin, not too steady himself, tried to help her.
Even so, Todd thought, she’s still very attractive. And he continued to think that until she bent over and vomited all over a rose bush.
A minute later they made it to the car. Devin got in and tried to start it up. After several tries, it became apparent the car was not going to start.
“Stupid idiotic car!” Devin raged, getting out and kicking the tires.
Todd started laughing. Strange, he thought, that Jesus would know so much about red Corvettes.
He lay down in bed and hoped he’d be able to get some sleep before the alarm went off.
It would be another full day for him and his companion.
“Father in Heaven,” he prayed silently, “thanks for giving us the scriptures.”