Gospel Story Finder

Dr. Heyerdahl—With great argumentation, with terrific debate! Scientists said that it would be impossible for anyone to leave America with a raft. Well, I had collected a thick volume of evidence, but no scientists wanted to read it because they said that balsa rafts and reed boats were the best vessels used by South American Indians and such vessels would get waterlogged and sink in two weeks. Well, even to me a reed boat sounded completely crazy at that time. So I discarded that. But I thought that a log raft would be sturdy enough to make it. Fortunately I knew nothing about sailing—otherwise, I never would have gone ahead. But I just believed in my ideas enough to do it anyway. The scientists kept warning me that a balsa raft would sink in two weeks. They’d taken a piece of dry balsa and put it in a tank, and it did absorb water and sink in two weeks. But if you do it like the Indians, go into the jungle and cut a tree with sap, the sap acts against impregnation. So together with four Norwegians and a Swede, right after World War II ended, I built the raft we called Kon-Tiki, after the legendary sun god of Peru. We left Peru and in 101 days had floated to Polynesia. Not only did the raft stay afloat off the Polynesian coast for several months after our arrival, but we took it to Norway and it floated for six months in the Oslo Fjord before we took it ashore to a museum.

I was puffing as I ran my third lap around the track, but I was determined to finish at least one more. My friend Jennifer had pulled ahead of me as usual, nearly half a lap ahead and still gaining. It didn’t bother me that she was faster. I admired her for it. I admired her for a lot of things.
We had been friends since fifth grade, and I remember that she struggled with math so much she had to get extra help. Now she was on the honor roll. Athletics were easier for her, but she had to work hard at that, too. That’s why we were running the track together. She needed the athletic conditioning; I needed the exercise.
It was hard not to like Jennifer; her outgoing personality made her cheerful and friendly. She seemed to have it all and do it all. Her life was an endless round of activities, all of them wholesome and productive.
I was busy, too. I always had more to do than time to do it in. In fact, I had to schedule my time very carefully. I thought about Jennifer’s schedule—which was busier than mine—and wondered how she accomplished all she did.
About then I noticed a younger red-haired girl standing by the track watching us. She was a handicapped student at our small school. I said a polite hello as I ran by her, but I couldn’t afford to slow my pace to say much more. She watched as I rounded the track.
Jennifer seemed to be behind me now, even though I knew she was already a lap ahead and about to pass me again soon. She would finish before me, I was sure, and move on to the other important activities she must have planned.
I looked ahead to the next turn and then looked back to see where Jennifer was. She had slowed to a snail’s pace, and the red-haired girl was holding her hand and running beside her. The busiest girl in school had time to help someone else, and I didn’t. I thought about the Savior as I watched the two of them running together.
I was the only onlooker. Only the Lord and I would ever know about that small kindness. Jennifer didn’t do it for recognition; it was just the way she was. That day she became my hero, not because of all the great things she was known for but because of that simple act of kindness when no one was around but me.

This question tasted especially bitter during the tougher seasons of life. Like when I experienced medical problems and hospital visits instead of the good health I prayed for. Or when I struggled with feelings of loneliness while watching friends and siblings find companionship. Even though I had plenty to be grateful for, questions about absent blessings remained heavy in my heart. Where was the simple “ask and receive” relationship the scriptures promised? During one period of time in particular, I felt especially betrayed by God. I found myself questioning if the scriptures were true, and if it was worth it to keep going to church and remain temple worthy.

I realized that I had a decision to make.

I would be lying if I said that I just decided to be faithful and that “gospel grit” alone got me through. The truth is that I was fortunate to have supportive friends and family members who encouraged my faith, even when they weren’t aware that I was struggling. I was lucky that my employment was a faith-tolerant atmosphere instead of a toxic one. And I was blessed with callings that helped me remain involved in my ward without being overwhelming. My heart aches for people who don’t have a similar combination of positive circumstances to help them get through periods of doubt. With all this help and a desire in my heart to understand the truth about God, I decided to remain active in the Church, even though it was painful at times.

Over time, I learned an important lesson: God had created me with two hands, each capable of holding something at the same time. Spiritually speaking, just because I had “picked up” a doubt or question in one hand didn’t mean that I had to let go of all the gospel truths I held in my other hand. It often felt like I was metaphorically holding on to the iron rod and pressing forward while dragging these questions behind me. But I didn’t really see an alternative. I didn’t want to ignore the questions I had, and I also couldn’t deny the spiritual truths I already knew. So, although it was exhausting, I found ways to honor both parts of my feelings.

For example, when Sunday Church meetings seemed incredibly draining, I decided to stay only long enough to take the sacrament, committing that I would always show up at least for that ordinance. When scripture study became a source of frustration, I decided to just read Psalms or other verses that were comforting to my soul. And please don’t get me wrong—I’m not suggesting that we adopt these as longtime habits or look for reasons to excuse ourselves from what prophets and apostles have recommended. But this allowed me, during that particular season, to remain close to God while exploring my questions with an open heart. The whole time, I pleaded in prayer for increased understanding.

Time passed. I got better at gripping the iron rod more tightly while holding my doubts more loosely. Church, scripture study, and prayer became easier to participate in once more. And eventually, a couple of specific life events helped lead me to the answer I was searching for.

I am now 87 years old. You may wonder, at my age, what I can contribute to your lives. I have been where you are and know where you are going. But you have not yet been where I am. I quote a few lines of classic poetry:
The old crow is getting slow.
The young crow is not.
Of what the young crow does not know
The old crow knows a lot.
At knowing things the old crow
Is still the young crow’s master.
What does the slow old crow not know?
—How to go faster.
The young crow flies above, below,
And rings around the slow old crow.
What does the fast young crow not know?
—Where to go.
Not Wordsworth but classic poetry nonetheless!

A Boy’s False Alarms
A shepherd boy had a roguish trick of crying “A wolf! A wolf!” to fool the other shepherds. He had been at this sport so many times in jest that they would not believe him when at last he did tell the truth. So the wolves set upon a flock and seized the helpless sheep.
Moral: A truly wise person will never lie even in jest.

A few nights after his baptism, a mob of white men came to the house where he was staying and called out for him. “We just want to talk to you,” they said. In their hands were rifles and shotguns.
Len stepped outside. He was a Black man in the American South, where armed mobs sometimes enforced racial segregation with violence. They could injure or kill him on the spot and may never have to answer for their crime.
Someone in the mob demanded to know why Len had joined the Latter-day Saints. It was legal for Blacks and whites to worship together in Alabama, but the state also had a strict set of segregation laws and unwritten social codes to keep the races separate in public settings. Since nearly every Latter-day Saint in Alabama was white, the mob saw Len’s baptism as a challenge to the region’s deeply rooted color line.2
“So, you went over to the waters and learned a few things,” the man continued, referring to Len’s army service. “Now you want to join the whites.”
“I was investigating the Church long before I went to war,” Len finally said. “I found it was the only true church on earth. That is why I joined it.”
“We want you to go and have your name scratched off the record,” the mob said. “If not, we will hang you up to a limb and shoot you full of holes.”
The next morning, Len attended a conference of fellow Saints in the area and told them about the mob’s threat. He knew he was taking a risk by coming to the meeting, but he was willing to die for his newfound faith.
“Brother Hope, we could not scratch your name off if we tried to,” Church members reassured him. “Your name is in Salt Lake City and also written in heaven.” Many of them offered to help Len if the mob ever came after him again.3
But the mob never returned. Len soon married a woman named Mary Pugh in 1920, and they moved to Birmingham, a large city in central Alabama. Mary’s uncle, a Baptist pastor, predicted that she would join the Church before the year was over.

A beautiful illustration of Joseph F. Smith’s love for his family comes from his early years as a father, when he was existing on a poverty wage and was paid only in commodities. In these destitute circumstances, he made a trip to town one day before Christmas to buy “something for my chicks.”
“I wanted something to please them, and to mark the Christmas day from all other days—but not a cent to do it with! I walked up and down Main Street, looking into the shop windows … everywhere—and then slunk out of sight of humanity and sat down and wept like a child until my poured-out grief relieved my aching heart; and after awhile returned home, as empty as when I left, and played with my children, grateful and happy … for them.”

When my grandfather James E. Fisher was set apart as a missionary in 1892, he was told, “The Lord will provide food, raiment, and shelter for you.”
At age 19, grandfather had traveled 160 miles by horse and wagon from Meadow, Utah, to St. George to be married in the temple to Elizabeth Stewart. They returned to Meadow where they lived as farmers for the next six years. It was then that James E. received his mission call to New Zealand. It was common at that time to ask young married men to leave home and family to serve for two to five years.
For the next three years and four months, his young wife not only raised three children and (with the help of his brother Joseph) ran the farm; she also kept him on his mission by milking cows, selling eggs, and doing whatever else she could. They understood hardship and sacrifice better, I think, than we do today. But the Lord was mindful of them and blessed them according to his wisdom.
In New Zealand, Elder Fisher and his companion no doubt wondered and worried about their loved ones back home. In a new land with new customs, often relying on the kindness of others for shelter and sustenance, they must have felt out of place at times and in need of reassurance. The food commonly used by the Maori people was much different than that to which they were accustomed.
One day as the missionaries rode along on their horses, they talked about how much they missed the good, homemade bread so common back in Utah. Money from home had not yet arrived and they were, quite simply, hungry. Elder Fisher’s companion suggested that they were alone and could dismount. They went into the woods and prayed. They expressed their desire to serve, as well as their love and concern for those back home.
The two elders felt better, got back on their horses, and continued on their way. As they rode along, they noticed something just off the road. They dismounted and to their amazement found, wrapped in a white cloth, a fresh loaf of bread, the same kind of homemade bread they had talked about in their prayer. They rejoiced as they ate it, although it wasn’t the bread that was so important, but the reassurance that Heavenly Father knew who they were and where they were, that they had faithful wives and that the Lord’s kindness and goodness was over them all. Later, they both wrote home and told their wives of the incident.
At that time, it took six weeks for a letter to get from Utah to New Zealand, and it cost 50 cents for postage, which was then an enormous sum of money. Therefore letters were sent only about once a month.
About three months after the elders found the bread on the trail, Elder Fisher’s companion received a letter from his wife. She wrote that on that same day they made their discovery, she had been baking bread.
When she opened her oven to remove it, one of the pans was empty and a white cloth that had been on the table was gone. She had been home all the time and saw no one come or go.
Two missionaries in New Zealand had received an answer to prayer. The loaf of bread came to symbolize for them that it was Heavenly Father who had sent them to New Zealand and that he was supporting and watching over their families.
Incidentally, when James E. returned home, the farm had prospered and he and his wife owned more cattle and sheep and had more money than before.

You’re at your first Church dance when it happens. You just worked up the courage to ask the new girl to dance. She’s recently moved into the ward, and you simply want to say hi to welcome her and get to know her better.
And that’s when you discover the two of you share the same love of volleyball, have the same taste in music, and enjoy the same favorite ice cream. She even laughs at your jokes. That’s when you realize you like her—and, unless you are wildly mistaken, that she likes you too.
Gulp.
Now what? You’re not old enough to start dating. Obviously, it’s time to flee the dance, rush home, and immediately start pretending you never met. You might also want to change your bike route to the park so you don’t have to pass her house. Right?
No, actually. In fact, you don’t need to do any of these things. Even if dating is still far away, you can always make a new friend. As explained in For the Strength of Youth, “Everyone needs good and true friends. They will be a great strength and blessing to you. They will influence how you think and act, and even help determine the person you will become” ([2011], 16).
Sometimes it might be easy to misinterpret dating standards to mean that we can’t even form friendships with members of the opposite gender before we’re 16. But if we follow that way of thinking, we might miss out on rewarding friendships. So, yes, you can become friends.

Until recently, part of my assignment has included the country of Peru, an area of the world that is experiencing great turmoil. Inflation and internal strife have been robbing the Peruvian people of almost any hope of stability in their lives.
It has been difficult for my Brethren and me to visit Peru regularly because of the dangers of traveling there. It has been necessary for the Peruvian members to assume much more responsibility for priesthood and auxiliary leadership and for full-time missionary service.
The Area Presidency recognized the need to fortify the members of the Church in this country and, after much prayer and fasting, decided to emphasize just two basic teachings of the gospel. They prepared a letter to be delivered to each family unit in Peru. The theme was “Being Converted to the Lord,” and the letter stressed family prayer and family scripture study.
The Area Presidency taught these principles first to the stake presidencies. They in turn instructed their high councils, and from there the teaching was done to bishops. The bishops then instructed their ward members, and a follow-up letter was delivered by the home teachers to each family unit. The fathers were encouraged specifically to lead their families in daily prayer and scripture study.
The blessings that have come to the Peruvian Saints from practicing these two basic gospel principles, daily prayer and scripture study, have been most remarkable. It soon became evident that faith and testimony were increasing among members of the Church there. There has been a significant increase in sacrament meeting attendance, which has resulted in a greater sense of community and increased interest among the Saints in loving and caring for each other. Though travel to the temple has become increasingly difficult and dangerous, temple attendance is up significantly.
The number of full-time missionaries immediately began to increase. Now the five missions in Peru fill their missionary needs with native Peruvians. The full-time missionaries are arriving in the field better prepared to serve, which of course has resulted in increased convert baptisms.
A renewed emphasis on two basic gospel practices—daily prayer and scripture study—created a dramatic change and offered increased spirituality and works among the Saints there.
The success of the Peruvian Saints should teach all of us the importance of adhering to the basics of a gospel-centered life. Let us consider again the blessings promised us if we faithfully practice daily family prayer and daily family scripture study.
Among the Peruvian Saints, who live in this nation racked with heartache and despair, there has emerged a stronger faith and devotion to our Father in Heaven because they heeded the counsel of His servants to hold daily family prayer.
A special maturing in the gospel has developed among the members of the Church in Peru because they added to their daily family prayers the practice of having daily family scripture study. When the revealed words of the prophets found their way into the hearts of the Saints, they brought about a mighty change in the way they lived and believed. Questions, personal problems, and important concerns were answered for them by the inspired counsel of the scriptures.

One couple whose children are grown invites other adult friends to a special dinner. Here they share memories and reflect on what Easter means.

During COVID, with the uncertainty of the school year, I had to trust that the Lord knows what is best for everyone. My school actually got to return to campus, which was the best for me, because I’m not a great off-site learner.

Members of the Samabula 1st Ward participated in a service project for the Harland Hostel for the Deaf in Fiji in March 2021.
A group of 20 volunteers spent three hours cleaning the hostel and playing with the children. They raked the yard, cut the grass, planted, and cleaned. They also repaired a washing machine.
“We wanted our members, especially our children, to see firsthand how children as young as five years old leave their homes and loved ones and live at the hostel just so they can have access to quality specialized education,” explained Eileen Swann, one of the participants.
The Harland Hostel for the Deaf has 26 children from ages five to 14. There is also a rented home for older boys and a hostel for older girls.
“The hostel is just five minutes away from our chapel where we meet each Sunday and we as members of the Church need to be aware of others in the community where we live,” said Swann.
“We need to know our community, know what services are available or how we can be of service to our community. When we look beyond our differences, we will find that we have a lot in common with others. In doing so we build resilient and tolerant communities and better citizens.”
Other participants expressed gratitude to see how happy the children were despite having a loss of hearing and being away from their families.

Following the dedication of the magnificent new temple in Nauvoo, we rode home on the airplane with Sister Parkin, Sister Hughes, Sister Pingree, and their noble husbands. I asked the sisters if they had gone to the red brick store in Nauvoo where the Prophet Joseph established the Relief Society on March 17, 1842, with only 20 members present. Sister Parkin responded that they indeed had.

As I was speaking to them, I was forcefully reminded that all of the sisters anywhere in the world can inherit and benefit from the blessings of the Lord for women. The Prophet Joseph Smith said: “I now turn the key to you in the name of God. … Knowledge and intelligence shall flow down from this time.” This blessing of knowledge and intelligence comes to all righteous women in the Church, regardless of their race or nationality, and irrespective of whether they are new in the Church or descendants of one of the first 20 members in Nauvoo in 1842. These blessings flow to those sisters who willingly perform the work of angels.

On one occasion, a missionary in the final week of his mission reminded me that I had given him clearance two years previously to serve a mission. The clearance had been extended with some reservations on my part because his life before his mission had been dotted with transgressions. He said, “You allowed me to go into the field after due repentance and after I promised that I would be strictly obedient and would work diligently. I can assure you that I have worked hard and have obeyed every rule.”

Then he said something very significant. “I will always wish I had never done those things in the first place. But I feel that my sins have been forgiven. I feel perfectly clean.” He had been cleansed through selfless service and by developing a close association with the Holy Spirit. He had been through the refiner’s fire, and impurities had been burned away.

Elder Pierre Sewell and Elder Keown Dyson, whose mothers are sisters, received their calls in March 2020 just as the country was going into lockdown. Elder Dyson was excited to receive his call to serve in the Jamaica Kingston Mission, which is where he had always wanted to go. Elder Sewell had also wanted to serve somewhere far away but thought there was little chance of that, now that his cousin was going to Jamaica! However, just a few days later, he was thrilled to see he would serve in the Philippines Legazpi Mission, Tagalog speaking.

Another time, Harold was standing in the open doorway, watching a thunderstorm outside.
Suddenly his mother shoved him away from the door.
Mother: Move, Harold!
Harold: Ouch!
Seconds later, a bolt of lightning came down the chimney of the kitchen stove. It shot out the front door and split a tree trunk outside!
He was thankful his mother listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Several times she protected the life of the boy who would become the eleventh President of the Church.

The Beehive class of three girls of the Alton Ward, Kanab Utah Stake, set a long-range goal to be members of the state 1-A girls basketball championship team.
The trio—Holly Heaton, Wendy Crosby, and Deanna Rust—attended workshops and clinics and practiced several hours each day, summer and winter, to achieve their goal. Their efforts paid off. The three girls were all starting members of the 1-A Utah State Girls Basketball championship team. Holly was voted the Most Valuable Player at the state tournament, and Deanna was named to the All-State Tournament team. In addition, they were all starters on the 1-A State Girls Volleyball championship team.
When the girls go to other schools to play, they always arrive wearing dresses. They take pride in setting an example of modesty and femininity.
In addition, they are all excellent students and have perfect attendance at church, even when they are very late getting home from away games.

As my family sat a few rows behind the deacons one sacrament meeting, all I could think about before the opening hymn was that one of the deacons had failed to properly tie his long tie and correctly tuck in his wrinkled shirt. I thought someone should have helped him out. After all, when passing the sacrament, deacons should be an example of the Savior in action and dress.
The meeting proceeded, and I forgot about him. After the deacons had passed the sacrament, the talks began. The second speaker was the young man’s mother. She spoke of her conversion, of her trials growing up, and of her struggles as a single mother. It was a wonderful talk that left her in tears. She took her seat on the stand and continued to cry as the ward choir gathered to sing.
Just then her son, with his crooked tie and untucked shirt, stood and walked to the stand. He hugged his mother and crouched beside her to comfort her. Tears came to my eyes as the scene played out before me; I was touched beyond words. But then realization dawned, and I hung my head. Sitting in my crisp double-breasted suit, with my perfectly tied tie and polished black shoes, I realized I had truly missed something in preparing for the sacrament.
The young man and his mother came down from the stand and sat together as the choir began to sing. I sat there, unable to listen to the music because the sermon taught by this deacon flooded my heart with a message of Christlike charity.
He had performed his act with tenderness and care. There was not the slightest sign of embarrassment on his young face—only pure love. The subsequent messages over the pulpit that day were good, but I will always remember the sermon behind the pulpit.

Mara bounced happily on the tall kitchen stool as she watched Grandma get out the ingredients for her wonderful tarts. Grandma hummed as she worked, and by the time she rolled out the dough, Mara was humming along with her. “These tarts will be good for your sister’s wedding reception tomorrow,” Grandma said.
“Why can’t I go inside the temple for Alyse’s wedding, Grandma?”
Grandma stopped rolling for a minute. “Well, because you’re not old enough to understand the special covenants we make there.”
“What’s a covenant?”
“A covenant is a promise you make with another person, Mara. In the temple we make special promises with Heavenly Father, and He promises us great blessings when we do our part. All this is part of what we call the endowment.”
Grandmother began rolling out the dough again. When the dough was thin enough, she cut out small circles and carefully fit them into the muffin cups.
Mara watched her grandmother’s wrinkled hands creating the beautiful little tarts. “Grandma, what’s it like inside the temple?”
“There are beautiful flowers and pictures to see. It is beautiful and peaceful, Mara. Everyone is dressed in white, and it feels as though you are surrounded by angels. We learn about Heavenly Father and Jesus there, for the temple is God’s house.”
“I know,” Mara said. “In Primary we sing a song about it called ‘I Love to See the Temple.’ It makes me feel quiet and reverent inside. Is that what the temple feels like?”
“Yes, dear,” Grandma replied. “When you sing that song from the Children’s Songbook, the Holy Ghost helps you have those quiet, reverent feelings. And when you visit the temple, those peaceful, reverent feelings are even stronger. As we worship God in the temple, we can feel His love and peace.”
Grandma spooned fruit filling into the little dough cups, then wove strips of pastry on top of each one. Her white hair bobbed as she moved back and forth. She looked up and smiled at Mara.
“I have another question,” Mara said, smiling back. “Why does everyone wear white in the temple?”
“Wearing white clothes helps us to remember to have thoughts that are pure and clean. Then we can better understand the instruction and guidance we receive there.”
Mara twirled around on her stool. “Dad said that when you get married in the temple, you are married for eternity, not just until you die. Is that why Alyse and Paul want to get married in the temple?”
“That’s one reason. And when they have children, each one will automatically be sealed to them in a ‘forever family.’ Some people get married, then have to work to become worthy of temple blessings, and many people have died without even knowing about them. Once living people are worthy, they can receive the temple ordinances for themselves and for the dead. That way, if they are worthy, everybody who lives or who has lived on earth can be joined together as families and as part of God’s eternal family.”
“Wow! I sure want to be married in the temple when I grow up, Grandma. Will you make your tarts for my reception too?”
Grandma winked at her. “I’m looking forward to it!”