Gospel Story Finder

One more story is from the life of Ida Jensen Romney, wife of President Marion G. Romney, who served in the First Presidency. Her grandparents joined the Church in Denmark.

[My grandfather] left a wet farmland, green with fertility, to come to Zion. The missionary told him how wonderful it was to live in Zion and that he would be given 40 acres of farmland when he came. He was sent down to Levan, Utah, to colonize a land that was not nearly as verdant as the land he had left behind. He wanted to get on the first wagon that would take him back to the old country. Grandmother insisted that they stay.

The example Belle set for her family has made a big impression on her youngest sister, Wong Cho Ho—who goes by the English name of Rambo—and her younger brother, Wong Wah Kan (Simon), both of whom are now teenagers.
“Before I was a member, I’d always notice Belle,” says Simon, who was baptized in 1992. “She wasn’t lazy. Every Sunday she’d get up and go to church. When Belle was a missionary, she was a good example to my family and she helped us.”
Rambo also talked about the gospel with Simon and helped him with his decision to be baptized.
And so the sharing went: Two missionaries talked to Belle. Belle joined the Church and began fellowshipping Rambo. Rambo was baptized and began talking about the gospel with Agnes and Simon. Agnes and Simon were baptized, and they were followed by Mandy, the Wongs’ oldest daughter, and May, Angela, and their parents.
Simon likes to think back to the time when he began seriously investigating the gospel. He remembers praying for the first time. “I didn’t know how to pray or what I should say,” he remembers. “But I always felt good when I prayed.”
Before Simon joined the Church, Sundays were reserved for rest and relaxation. He would generally sleep in, then get up and play soccer with his friends. These days, his friends don’t even bother asking him to play games on the Sabbath. “I’ve already told them I don’t do that, and they understand why I don’t and what I do instead,” he says. Sundays for Simon generally consist of attending church meetings and reading the scriptures. “I love studying in the Book of Mormon—especially about Lehi and the faith he had. My own faith isn’t great, so it’s good for me to read about someone who was so strong.”

Mary Jane Driver was eager and excited. James Buchanan had been elected President of the United States that year of 1856, and on such an occasion, as on all national holidays, her father flew their flag.
Mary Jane, her brothers and sisters, and a number of neighbor children gathered around her father, Captain William Driver, as he opened the camphorwood chest and removed the folded flag. Mary Jane knew how much he loved that flag, for he handled it with tender care. “That’s my Old Glory,” he told them proudly. Mary Jane never tired of hearing the story of the flag.
Her father had been born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1803, when the United States was very young. He had gone to sea when he was just thirteen. He loved the sea and ships, and he had become an expert seaman. By the time he was twenty-one, Mary Jane’s father had been made captain of a merchant ship, the Charles Doggett.
Captain Driver’s mother and his friends wanted to show him how happy they were about his new command, so they made a flag of worsted bunting for the Charles Doggett. It was a large flag, measuring nine feet five inches by seventeen feet. Captain Driver named the flag Old Glory.
“It was the proudest day of my life,” he told his children. “The flag looked beautiful flying up there on the mast of my ship.”
Old Glory flew from the mast of Captain Driver’s ship as he sailed to Australia and to Pitcairn Island—and on two voyages around the world.
But in 1837, when Mary Jane’s mother became ill, Captain Driver gave up his life at sea and settled his family in Nashville, Tennessee. It was here that Mary Jane grew up and where she watched her father take the flag out of his old sea chest on important occasions.
When the Civil War broke out, three of Mary Jane’s brothers fought for the Confederacy. Her father, however, remained loyal to the Union, the country of his flag. And because Nashville was in confederate hands, Captain Driver, fearful that his flag would be destroyed, hid it.
The Confederates knew that he had a Union flag, and several times they came to his home, demanding that he turn it over to them. Mary Jane’s heart beat fast on those occasions. But though Captain Driver allowed the soldiers to search his home, they were never able to find the flag.
Then, on February 25, 1862, Union forces entered Nashville. Mary Jane’s father asked a captain of an Ohio regiment to accompany him home, where he took his flag from its hiding place, stitched inside a quilt. Mary Jane watched proudly as soldiers escorted her father, carrying the folded flag, to the state’s legislative building. Once more his flag flew proudly in the breeze—this time over the Tennessee State Capitol! After the flag was raised, Captain Driver said, “I lived to raise Old Glory on the dome of the Capitol of Tennessee; I am now ready to die and go to my forefathers.”
Old Glory was flown throughout the night, and Captain Driver stayed at the capitol to guard the flag against possible harm.
The Ohio soldiers liked Captain Driver’s nickname for his flag, and as news of what had happened in Nashville spread, the term “Old Glory” became popular. Soon the Stars and Stripes came to be known as Old Glory on many battlefields.
In 1873 Captain Driver gave Mary Jane his dearest possession, Old Glory. He knew that she loved his flag, too, and would care for it. Mary Jane was very grateful, and for years she flew it on all holidays over her home in Nevada, where she had moved after she was married.
In 1886 Captain William Driver died. He was buried in Nashville. On his tombstone was engraved, “His ship. His country. And his flag, Old Glory.”
Usually the flag of the United States is flown only between sunrise and sunset, but Congress authorized a flag to fly day and night over Captain Driver’s grave.
Mary Jane kept Old Glory for many years as a reminder of her father and to honor the country that he had loved so dearly. Then, in 1922, she decided to give the flag to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. Although Old Glory was worn and faded by then, it was put on display there with other famous historical flags of the United States.

Robert learned an important principle while serving in the military. Each unit in his squadron had a motto that had been chosen to inspire the pilots in their efforts. “Our unit motto (displayed on the side of our aircraft) was Return with Honor,” says Elder Hales. “This motto was a constant reminder to us of our determination to return to our home base with honor after we had expended all of our efforts to successfully complete every aspect of our mission.” This motto has served as a reminder of the importance of honesty and integrity in his personal and professional life. As a father, he put his arms around each of his two sons before they left to serve their missions—Stephen to England and David to Germany—and whispered, “Return with honor.” He still refers to this motto today.

Ryan Periga was grinning as he walked to the front of the classroom. Ryan was the president of our deacons quorum, and it was his turn to present our priesthood lesson.
“We’re going to do something a little different today,” he announced, holding out a box with a picture of Snoopy on the front. “I brought a jigsaw puzzle, and Brother Warner said we could spend a few minutes putting it together.”
He opened the box and spilled the contents out on the floor. He dropped to his knees and looked around. “Well, don’t just sit there,” he said. “Give me a hand!”
He didn’t have to ask twice. We were typical 12- and 13-year-old boys, and we were always anxious for something to do. Even if it meant working on a child’s jigsaw puzzle.
“Find all the edges first,” one jigsaw expert suggested as he sorted through the pieces.
“And the corners,” another deacon advised.
“Look, here’s part of his nose.”
“Yeah, and here’s a piece of his tail. Put it over there.”
According to the box, the puzzle was designed for three- and four-year-old children. It only contained about 30 large pieces, so it wasn’t long before we had the whole thing finished. The only problem was that one large piece was missing, right in the middle.
“Way to go, Ryan,” someone protested. “You brought a defective puzzle!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ryan said, eyeing the finished product. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“What are you talking about?” someone asked. “It looks dumb.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause it’s not all there!”
Ryan tried to look surprised. “Is that important?”
“Of course, it’s important! You can’t have a puzzle without all the pieces.”
Ryan grinned slyly: he had us right where he wanted us. He pointed toward the one empty chair in the room. “You might have noticed that Kevin hasn’t been to priesthood meeting for a while. So in a way, we’re just like this puzzle. We’re not complete. Without Kevin we’re not a whole quorum.”
Ryan had made his point. He’d taught his lesson so well that each of us understood it perfectly. And we spent the next several minutes discussing ways to bring Kevin back into the quorum.
You’ve probably had lessons on things like quorum unity before. So have I. But I’ve never seen anyone make the point quite as well as Ryan did. He focused our attention on the problem in a way that we all understood its significance.
Ryan’s lesson was effective because he didn’t just talk about quorums. He talked about our quorum. He didn’t simply talk about activating people. He talked about helping Kevin. Quorum unity was suddenly something each of us could relate to.
Ryan’s lesson is a good example. While we were busy working on the puzzle, we had no idea there was a point to what we were doing. But we were all involved; everyone was participating. And when the time came for Ryan to make his point we were more receptive to it.

I learned a great lesson early in my business career. I was called into my boss’s office one day. He wanted to impress upon me, his financial manager, a good lesson in the use of money. He asked me to give him a definition of interest. Of course, I pulled one out of a textbook I had used in business training. He said, “Oh, no, no, no. This is the one I want you to remember. ‘Them’s that understands it, receives it; them’s that don’t, pays it.’ “

This was one of the great lessons of my life. I have tried to stay out of debt as much as humanly possible. It is a lot more fun to earn interest than to pay it.

I saw the results of another great teacher while serving as the president of a single adult stake at BYU–Idaho. That experience changed my life. On one particular Tuesday evening, I interviewed a young man named Pablo, from Mexico City, who wanted to serve a mission. I asked him about his testimony and his desire to serve. His answers to my questions were perfect. Then I asked about his worthiness. His answers were exact. In fact, they were so good, I wondered, “Maybe he doesn’t understand what I’m asking him.” So I rephrased the questions and determined that he knew exactly what I meant and was completely honest.

I was so impressed with this young man that I asked him, “Pablo, who was it that helped you come to this point in your life standing so uprightly before the Lord?”

He said, “My dad.”

I said, “Pablo, tell me your story.”

Pablo continued: “When I was nine, my dad took me aside and said, ‘Pablo, I was nine once too. Here are some things you may come across. You’ll see people cheating in school. You might be around people who swear. You’ll probably have days when you don’t want to go to church. Now, when these things happen—or anything else that troubles you—I want you to come and talk to me, and I’ll help you get through them. And then I’ll tell you what comes next.’”

“So, Pablo, what did he tell you when you were 10?”
“Well, he warned me about pornography and dirty jokes.”
“What about when you were 11?” I asked.
“He cautioned me about things that could be addictive and reminded me about using my agency.”

Here was a father, year after year, “line upon line; here a little, and there a little,”10 who helped his son not only hear but also understand. Pablo’s father knew our children learn when they are ready to learn, not just when we are ready to teach them. I was proud of Pablo when we submitted his missionary application that night, but I was even prouder of Pablo’s dad.

In my hand I am holding a pair of pioneer shoes. They were made by a modern-day pioneer, Brother Robert King, while he was serving as a missionary in Nauvoo. He was the first member of his family to join the Church, or so he thought. Brother King and his wife are currently serving as family history missionaries, and in the course of his research, he discovered that his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham joined the Church in 1835. But Reed was lost. He wandered down unknown paths, and the tender seedling of faith within him died.

Allow me to tell you the rest of Brother King’s story. Remember that the seed of faith was planted in the lives of both his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham. What became of Abraham? He kept the faith. Feeling fulfilled in the cause, Abraham endured the persecutions and trials of the pioneer migration west. Due to Abraham’s commitment to the cause of Zion, his posterity includes more than 2,000 members of the Church today.

Just as Abraham is loved and revered for being a courageous pioneer in his family, so will be my friend Robert King. He pioneered his way through a lost line of family history and caught up with his great-grandfather Reed. Because Brother King chose to seek for “the things of a better” and don his pioneer shoes, he is a conduit through which generations, both past and future, will receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

One night shortly after his baptism, Don was tending the ship’s engines and reading the Book of Mormon in his spare time. One of the crew came up behind him and asked what he was reading.

“It’s the Book of Mormon,” Don replied.
“Are you Mormon?”
“Yes, I am.”
Burt ground out his cigarette and said, “So am I.” He had been brought up in the Church but had stopped participating when he joined the military. Don convinced him to join the others at sacrament meeting the next Sunday. Burt began the process of repenting and getting his life back in order.

Just before Don was released from military duty, he wrote to my wife and me.
“As you know,” he said, “I am the only member of the Church in my family. I had been saving part of my paycheck so that when I get out I would be able to pay cash for a new car. But now I’ve decided to use the money for something better—to support myself on a mission.”
Ken also decided to serve a mission. After their missions, both Ken and Don were married in the temple, and both have served faithfully in many Church callings.
We asked Ken and Don what it was about the gospel and the Church that attracted them most. Without a moment’s hesitation they each said that it was Willis’s life, his example.

As a young newly returned missionary from the Nigeria Enugu Mission, to a family where my faith is strange to everyone, there were many ideas and plans running through my mind. Where and how to start was the only question I had. After a few days, I was added to the institute class in my ward on WhatsApp, where assignments were given every week for us to study.
I must confess that though we live in a world of hardships, where we have to battle with a deadly virus called corona (COVID-19), the Lord is still hastening His work of salvation (D&C 88:73). Studying scriptures every day has really boosted my spirituality level. After submitting an assignment on the First Vision and after a heartfelt prayer, I felt the impression that I should approach my elder sister and her family, who I am living with, and introduce them to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and to His Church. I did it and I was so happy the many questions she had about the Church even before I left for mission were resolved by the help of the Holy Ghost. She has, for some time, stopped going to her church because of some misunderstandings. I used the opportunity to invite her to church and she promised to come after the crisis is calmed and controlled.
The institute class has really strengthened my faith and has shown me many means to invite others to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Despite the hardships and the oppositions, I know with all my heart that the work of the Lord will still move forward. Now, I have been able to create a plan to diligently assist the Lord in hastening His work. I know He is mindful of His children and I love Him with all my heart.

I had won the race. The prize seat in the minivan was mine. As I squeezed in between my best friend and the guy I had a crush on, I thought, “Life is great.” Soon I would be caught up in the normal chatting that accompanies any Mutual Christmas-caroling activity. Only this time, by some chance, I saw Chrslyn—left behind in our mad dash for the vehicles.
I knew Chrslyn from passing conversations in school. I may have even called and invited her to a few Church activities. But in the previous months I had failed to bring her into my circle of friends because she was in a wheelchair.
On that winter night, squashed into a minivan, as I watched her skillfully yet slowly struggle to catch up with us, I realized I also had a disability, and I knew I must change. I must treat Chrslyn as the daughter of God that she was. I decided to help her when she needed it.
As I tried to be of aid, I felt a little frustrated because I was being left out of the fun of the evening. No one even noticed that I was no longer with the group. At one stop, as I was helping Chrysln to her wheelchair, I begged Jared, one of the more outgoing young men, to wait for me. He complied, and soon the other youth began to notice Chrslyn and offer their help in various ways. The quest to help Chrysln soon became a game, as we each fought for a turn in pushing her wheelchair. We rotated the privilege of sitting in the truck with our new friend and generally kept her at the center of attention the whole night.
We soon had a system set up. I was responsible for lifting Chrysln from the vehicle while one of the young men reassembled her wheelchair, and then we were off. Even as we walked up and down the dirt roads that were becoming more mud than dirt, we were not daunted. This was our new mission, and nothing would stop us from helping Chrslyn have the caroling experience of her life.
At the last home we visited, we were able to park close to the house, so instead of reassembling her wheelchair, I just carried Chrslyn to the door. I was surprised at how light she felt. As strains of “Away in a Manger” (Hymns, no. 206) filled the night air, I looked down and saw Chrslyn smiling. Holding her in my arms, I thought of the Savior’s message: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40).
In my mind I saw the picture of the Savior healing the lame man near the pool of Bethesda, and I knew this night another miracle had been performed. Only this night it was not the physically lame who had been made whole: it was I, the spiritually blind. I now saw Chrslyn as a person and a friend who had feelings and desires similar to mine.
That night ended, and months passed. Chrslyn and her family left our branch, but I know that through Chrslyn my life was changed. Even now, when I think of this experience, I am reminded to follow the Savior, loving and serving all men, no matter their circumstances, for we are all children of God.

Melinda Bassett won the final round of a spelling bee sponsored by the European Congress of American Parents, Teachers, and Students in Berchtesgaden, Germany. She defeated her last opponent by spelling rallentando correctly.
Melinda, 12, plays the violin and coronet. She has five brothers and sisters, and her parents are stationed in the Air Force at RAF Lakenheath in England. They belong to the Cambridge Ward, Ipswich England Stake.

My dad and I started early, loading the woodcutting equipment into the truck well before sunrise and pulling out of the driveway just as the stars began to fade. As we snacked on toast and fruit drinks, we sang Scout songs and laughed at silly things I had done as a child. But as the first rays of sunlight splashed across the pristine Arizona sky, our talk turned to my mission—just two weeks away—and to the realization that this would be our last chance to spend time together like this for two years.
The sun left the horizon as we pulled off the main road and ascended into aspens and pines. An hour later we reached our destination: a small clearing at the top of a cliff overlooking a valley camouflaged in the yellows, reds, and greens of fall.
As I climbed out of the truck and peered over the cliff, my thoughts turned to my mission. Would I see such sights there? Would anything be similar so far from home? The knot that had formed in my stomach the day I opened my call tightened.
My dad quietly stepped up behind me and dropped one of his well-worn hands onto my shoulder.
“Are you ready?” he asked. I knew he was talking about cutting wood, but I instantly thought of my mission. Was I ready? Would I be able to learn Spanish? Would I love the people? Was my testimony strong enough?
The questions gathered around my heart like a great weight, threatening to crush my spirit. And then the memory of the greatest lesson my father had ever taught me leapt into my mind.
Over the years, the memory of that hike and what my father had done for me had faded. But as I stared into the valley that last morning before leaving on my mission, it came rushing back.
In that moment, I saw that my father had shown me an incredible example of how the Savior works. He lets us live our lives and make our own decisions. He lets the weight of the world gather on our shoulders as we face choices and circumstances that test our faith and dedication. And then, when we can go no further, He reaches out with His strong arm and lifts our packs so we can continue on.
Staring into the valley now, I no longer feared the long journey ahead or the trials I would face on my mission or at any other time in my life. I knew that the Lord would always be close behind and that, when I had done all I could, He would reach out and lift my pack.

Some time ago, my wife and I became concerned about a pattern of behavior developing in some of our teenage children during family scripture study, family home evenings, and even our impromptu, one-on-one gospel-centered conversations. They were meeting a minimum learning standard—a physical presence, occasional eye-contact, and one-word answers—but they were not engaging in active learning.
We knew that in order for them to gain strong testimonies and to experience deep, personal conversion by the power of the Holy Ghost, they needed to do more. The Savior wants His disciples to not just hear His words—He wants them to act on His teachings with faith (see Teaching in the Savior’s Way [2016], 30).
One night we talked with them about our feelings. Our intent was to counsel with them in a Spirit-guided discussion. Our discussion, however, quickly deteriorated into a one-way lecture. Our boys heard our message, but their minds and hearts remained unaffected.
That experience troubled us, so my wife and I began to ponder how we could help our children become more proactive in their gospel learning, inspiring them to act instead of being acted upon by our speeches and lectures. Our questions led us to develop a plan based on what we learned from searching the scriptures, the words of latter-day prophets, and other Church resources related to teaching and learning. Our plan reads:
Cultivate love and respect. Love softens hearts. Expressions of love will help prepare our children for the influence of the Holy Ghost. It will also nurture their desire and willingness to engage in active, spiritual learning. Respecting our children by listening to and validating their perspective and feelings will help them feel safer and more willing to share what they are feeling.
Teach by the Spirit. Carefully observing and listening to our children will prepare us to discern by the Spirit what to say next, what question to ask, or what invitation to extend that will lead them to seek the Holy Ghost’s influence in their learning.
Anchor every discussion in the word of God. While sharing our own thoughts and opinions about the gospel together can be helpful, the scriptures and the words of latter-day prophets will often provide a deeper, more powerful connection to the Spirit (see D&C 84:45).
Make the Savior the basis of all gospel-centered discussions. Substance and power will come to our discussions as our children see how what we are discussing relates to the Savior and His Atonement, “the very root of Christian doctrine” (Boyd K. Packer, “The Mediator,” Ensign, May 1977, 56).
Ask inspiring questions. Effective questions will lead our children to draw truth and understanding directly from the scriptures and words of the prophets with the Spirit’s help. What they learn in that way will mean more to them than our clearest explanations of the very same material.
Encourage family members to do the talking. When our children use their own words to express what they are seeing, thinking, or feeling, they invite the Holy Ghost to help them know what to say and how to say it. That process will help them see and understand more clearly what the Lord wants them to learn and feel.
Be patient! The Holy Ghost will work with our children as they search their minds and hearts for truth and understanding. We need to resist the temptation to cut their search short by prematurely jumping in with personal opinions and self-conceived solutions.
Lead by example. Striving to learn and live the gospel in the same way we ask of our children will help us qualify for the support and guidance of the Spirit in our discussions.
As we’ve tried to implement our plan, we are learning that inviting the influence of the Holy Ghost into our family discussions will take practice and time. But we refuse to get discouraged or give up. Just the other night, our 10-year-old daughter, prompted by a verse from the Book of Mormon we were reading as a family, asked in sweet sincerity, “How do you learn by the Holy Ghost?” I smiled. I knew we were getting somewhere!

Since as far back as I can remember, I’ve been gaga, as in crazy, about America, and have always dreamed of being an American! For the longest time, however, coming to this country remained a dream, a goal without any plan for its achievement, until I discovered basketball at the relatively old age of 18. I started to play basketball because I got tired of answering in the negative whenever I was asked if I played the sport. You can imagine why, but that was the first question everyone I met asked me! I was also tired of being made to feel as if I was wasting my height.

Because I realized immediately that basketball could be my passport to America, mastering the sport became the most important thing in my life. I knew I had to be extremely good to be recruited. So, I became laser-focused on achieving that goal. What a goal, though, for someone who just started learning at age 18! Time was not on my side! Admittedly I had one huge advantage: my height. But that was not enough. But with God, everything is possible! Where there’s a will, there’s always a way!

With inspiring quotes such as these, I encouraged myself. I also received encouragement from my mother and a few friends, who supported me because they loved me. If I had told them I was going to the moon, they would have told me that the moon was too low for me to aim!

However, there was not a shortage of naysayers, but I guess they probably meant well. They were sure I wouldn’t succeed. “You are too old to learn basketball,” they told me. “ "It's an impossible dream!" How could you hope to be good enough in a few years to compete with players in America who started playing the sport as soon as they started walking?” To make matters worse, I was doing most of the learning by myself, as there were not very many good coaches or good basketball programs around.

The enormity of my task loomed like Mount Everest before me. I knew it would certainly take a miracle for me to succeed. But that was okay because I believed in miracles. I felt certain that if I did my best, God would surely take care of the rest. So, with faith in God, I persisted through the long and painful transformation from a novice to someone who didn’t “travel” every time he got the ball, and eventually, to a somewhat decent basketball player. It was an embarrassingly brutal experience at first, but the intensity of my desire to come to this country and my faith in God gave me a very thick skin.

But after a few years of prayer and hard work that seemed to be getting me no closer to being recruited, I became very frustrated and impatient. I, however, refused to consider defeat, and instead, I worked even harder. But still, there was no breakthrough!

And then, one day, I had an experience that became a turning point. I was on my knees praying when a new idea occurred to me. I immediately sensed it was a brilliant idea! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? I was sure I had found God’s soft spot. You see, previous to this time; I was only thinking of just basketball, the NBA, and many other temporal blessings that awaited me in America. But suddenly, my mind was recalibrated. I knew now what to do. With tears in my eyes, I began to pray again, “Please God.” This time making sure to ask in a way that I felt would be in line with His will, “send me to a college in America where I will not only get to play basketball and live the American dream but please send me to a college where I will also have the opportunity to learn more about You and draw closer to You so that I can better serve You.”

I meant every word of this prayer. Even though I was by no means a saint, my heart was always attuned to God, and I had always wanted to serve Him. This had been my greatest unspoken ambition. A feeling of peace descended upon me even before I finished praying, and with it came the assurance that I was on the right track and would soon receive my miracle. Whereas before, my faith was tempered by not knowing if emigration to America was God’s will for me, I now felt sure that it was. It's now going to be only a matter of time! A few weeks later, out of the blues, I got a letter from the then BYU–Hawaii men’s basketball coach, Chic Hess. I had no idea how he discovered me and wouldn't find out until many months after I arrived. I will always be grateful to Coach Hess, but also to one Jack James in Nigeria, a friend of a friend, whom God also used, unbeknownst to me at that time, to answer my prayer and to bring to my family and me a tremendous blessing.

After this first contact with Coach Hess, many obstacles still persisted, but with guidance from above, I overcame them. However, the last obstacle was so daunting that it was as if it had to be so, to make it forever clear to me that it would require nothing short of God’s miraculous intervention to overcome it. When I finally made it to the American embassy, I was denied a Visa, because the supporting documents I brought with me had expired.

You see, the scholarship letter and Form I-20 BYU–Hawaii had sent me got lost in the mail, and by the time I received them, the dates on them were expired, making the documents invalid. But, believing that this was only a test of my faith, I decided to take the expired documents with me to the embassy anyway. But I was denied a Visa. It was not meant to be. Dejected, I left the embassy, not knowing what to do next. But remember, where there’s a will, there is always a way! There had to be away. As I was praying for direction, another idea, which some might have considered too fantastic, occurred to me. I realized that there had been a precedent over 5000 years ago, which now offered a perfect solution to my problem! The Old Testament stories of Abraham and Lot, his nephew, and the many miracles they experienced had always been my favorite. At this point, it provided me the inspiration I needed.

It was clear that the odds were stacked against me. I now had more than my expired documents to worry about! The rule then was that if your application for a visa was denied, you had to wait for six months before you could return to the embassy for another application. They would even stamp your passport, an easy way for them to detect if you had returned within the six months.

I couldn’t wait for six more months, and I had to do something now! As I thought about it, it became clear to me that the only way I would have a chance was if the stamp on my passport as well as the expired dates on my Form I-20 and on the scholarship letter would just disappear and become invisible. My brothers and sisters, drastic times call for drastic measures! And that’s where the story of Lot came to my rescue!

If God struck the men of Sodom and Gomorrah with temporary blindness, and I believed He did, I would then ask Him to blind the eyes of anyone that would examine my documents at the embassy so that they would not see the expired dates, nor the stamp of rejection on my passport from my previous visit to the Embassy only a couple of days ago.

I was at this point ready to try anything to show my faith in God! To show that faith, I purchased a nonrefundable plane ticket to Hawaii, and against every logic and reason, but armed with the same faith as Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, I went back to the embassy with the expired documents. It was reckless and foolhardy, but I didn’t care! Were I not a witness to what transpired at the Embassy that day, I would dismiss the whole thing as totally made up, the same way some folks dismiss the miracles in the scripture as fabricated. But I was there and witnessed firsthand that indeed my mother was right! God is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He is definitely a God of miracles. And so on that fateful day, I not only walked out of that embassy with an American visa, but I also walked out with something else, much more valuable than a visa: An absolute conviction of the reality of God!

It’s still amazing to me that out of the thousands of colleges I could have gone to in America, I ended up here at BYU–Hawaii. Coming here was truly an answer to my prayer.

Let me now share a very personal experience from years ago that may serve to illustrate this point. I was set apart as a stake president by two General Authorities, and during the blessing, certain—as I viewed them—promises were mentioned, one of which related to the success of a new business venture I had just undertaken. But things did not go well business-wise. Unbeknownst to me, I had started an advertising agency on the cusp of a serious recession. After weeks of unease, early one morning, with many unanswered questions in my heart, a terrible uncertainty and a feeling of being alone washed over me like a waterfall of doubt. Although going into business for myself seemed like an inspired decision at the time, I had begun to second-guess the rightness of my choice, and I even wondered about the inspired words that had been uttered in that blessing just a few months earlier.

Fortunately I followed a common pattern and went to the scriptures and to the Lord, anxiously looking for answers—any answer that would mitigate my vexed state of mind. I was pondering the words in Matthew 28 about the risen Lord, specifically what the angel said to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary who were in search of the Master, searching just as I was on that morning and perhaps as you may be searching today: “He is not here: for he is risen, as he said.”13

The details of what followed are not important here, except to say that in my scriptures there is written in the margin a little note that says, “Special experience.” The Lord blessed me that day with a powerful witness of the reality of the Savior as my personal advocate with the Father, as the Creator of heaven and earth, and as the would-be Friend of all mankind. Today I testify that He lives and that He wants nothing more than to help us perform well on this playing field of life.

Yes, the business survived the recession and, happily, all the words spoken in my blessing were fulfilled. More important, I learned something about the definition of the phrase “in the Lord’s own way.”

Deposition (oil on canvas)
Sarah Hawkes, born 1998, Utah
The composition of this work resembles many images of the Savior as His body was removed from the cross. The central figure here is the artist’s mother, a woman who has fought breast cancer. The other women in the piece represent the nurses, doctors, and friends who supported her on her journey. “[My mother] believes it is a spiritual gift of women to understand how to lift one another spiritually, emotionally, and sometimes physically” (Sarah Hawkes).

A few weeks later I was at a lake with my family. Still not knowing how to swim, I waded around in the shallow water. I was there about 10 minutes when I saw one of my friends coming into the lake. I was horrified. “What if Stephanie finds out I can’t swim?” I thought. I’d be so embarrassed. So I quickly dropped to my knees and began to pretend to swim—I walked on my arms while kicking my feet. Stephanie jumped in the water and began swimming for real. This only added to my embarrassment. After a while she came over and talked to me. Then she dived off in another direction, leaving me in the wake caused by her perfect, coordinated strokes. I resumed my fake swimming, feeling foolish.
After a few minutes I decided to stop being so scared and try to swim. I was in shallow water, so I lifted my arms from the ground and started dog paddling. It worked. I floated. It was only for a few seconds, but I floated. I did it again and again throughout the evening. By the time we left, I could dog paddle across the entire lake.

I will start with a story related by M. Sue Bergin in a recent BYU Magazine; I quote:

"When Tom Puzey was a teenager, he became perplexed by arguments challenging his religious beliefs. He went to his dad ... in emotional anguish, doubting all he had been taught. His father smiled, hugged him, and said, 'This is wonderful.' Then his father told him, 'It's okay to question ... You'll figure it out. And Tommy ... you're going to be okay."[12]
Tom later noted that he believed his father, which gave him added confidence to resolve his doubts.

June 7, 1955
This afternoon I watched the girls play outside. They were having so much fun making necklaces out of dandelions. They laughed and giggled at the silly things each would say and do. As I quietly watched, Elizabeth noticed me and ran over to give me a big, yellow dandelion. “I love you, Mom,” she said.
In my heart I thanked Heavenly Father for such precious children. They are like the sunshine that lights my day. I continue to pray and work toward the blessing of being sealed as a family in the temple. Until that day arrives, I will put my trust and faith in the Lord.