Gospel Story Finder

After experiencing some unexpected financial obligations as a single woman, I knew I needed to find a second job. Soon afterward, Marty, a sister in my ward, approached me and asked for my help. She and her husband were going on a mission, so she had to give up her job. She explained that every Saturday she helped an elderly woman, Ruth, who lived in an assisted-living complex. Marty offered me her job and told me that Ruth would pay me for my work.
The following Monday, Marty and Ruth explained my tasks, and I began my work a few days later. I started by gathering Ruth’s laundry and carrying it upstairs to the laundry room. Soon after I began, Ruth rushed in and shouted at me. She told me that I was never to wash her clothes without first asking.
I was doing only what she and Marty had asked me to do. Frustrated and hurt, I fought back the tears. I told myself that I didn’t need any more stress or problems in my life. I would have walked out that very moment had I not promised Marty that I would care for Ruth while she was away.
Week after week Ruth shouted angrily at me over everything I did. It seemed that I could never please her no matter how hard I tried.
I started praying for strength to endure Ruth and her harsh words, but nothing changed. I continued to resent having to help her.
Then one day I changed my prayers. I stopped praying for myself and started praying for Ruth. I asked Heavenly Father to help me understand her needs and how I could help her.
From that day forward everything changed. My heart softened, and my love for Ruth grew. Ruth changed as well. She opened up and shared her life, her joys, and her sorrows. She told me she missed her family. She told me of the wonderful things she had done in her past but could no longer do. She told me she was lonely and sad.
I began to look forward to seeing Ruth each week, and she looked forward to seeing me.
My experience with Ruth taught me a valuable lesson. When I truly served with my whole heart, I came to understand President Spencer W. Kimball’s (1895–1985) teaching that “in the midst of the miracle of serving, there is the promise of Jesus, that by losing ourselves, we find ourselves” (“Small Acts of Service,” Ensign, Dec. 1974, 2).

I asked a Choctaw from Oklahoma if he knew the meaning of the word Nanah-ku-chi. He told me that it means “to bring out of the mountain.”
“You have said it just the way the Choctaw would say it,” he told me. “Nanah means mountain; Ku-chi means to bring forth.” I concluded that the words I had heard must have meant that the names of the Choctaw dead should be brought out of obscurity so that the Choctaws’ temple work should be completed.

The troops gathered early on a spring morning, just as the sun was breaking over the Montana hills. Mostly young men, they came in small clusters at first, a patrol here, another there, marshaling in the city park until their ranks were full. The ribbons and badges on their uniforms caught the fire of the dawning light.
You could tell by looking in their eyes that this was serious business. They came prepared for action, dressed in orange vests and hunting caps, wearing leather gloves. And they came heavily armed.
With trash bags.
For these were Scout troops, joined by Cub Scouts, some Girl Scouts, and a few other service groups. And their battle was an all-out war against litter.
This gathering of 289 in Missoula and others like it throughout the state would form an army of 7, 000. Dispersed in groups of four youth and two leaders per mile, they would clean Highway 93 from the Canadian border to Idaho. They would spruce up parts of Interstate 15. And working west from the North Dakota border, they would tidy significant stretches of Highway 2, Interstates 90 and 94, Highway 87, and other major thoroughfares.
By midday they would collect more than three million pounds of trash, including 2,000 pounds of recyclable glass and thousands of recyclable aluminum cans.
And they’d be home in time for lunch.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time as a visitor at the Utah State Prison. Some of the best friends I have ever made were made there. I like to go there because every time I go, I learn something. I learn about personal pride. I learn something about performance. I learn something about people.
One day, when I was talking with the warden at the prison, I asked, “How many prisoners do you have here in the prison who might be classified as ‘impossible’?” I knew that the prison was over-crowded—over 800 prisoners in buildings large enough for only 600, and I knew also that there were a lot of prisoners who presented problems for the prison officials. I remember one day being in the prison yard with some of them and seeing a tattoo across the chest of one man that said “A Born Loser,” and he was out to prove it. So I was impressed when the warden said that, of all the prisoners at the Utah State Prison, there was only one whom he would classify as being really impossible or unreformable.
I asked him to tell me about the man. He said that that prisoner has to remain in his cell 23 hours and 40 minutes every day. He cannot be with anyone else. He isn’t insane; he’s just hardened. “We can’t give him any freedom,” the warden told me. “His meals are served in his cell through iron bars. He has toilet facilities and a bed, and that is where he stays all but about 20 minutes of the day, when he is taken out for a shower. The last time he was allowed to be with other prisoners he put a knife through another prisoner. He would do the same again if he were allowed any freedom.”
No personal pride. No worthy performance. No patience. The only thing he is accomplishing in his life is being number one—number one in impossibility.

A few months ago I was having troubles with the commandments and keeping them. I found this scripture one morning as I was reading 1 Nephi 10:18–22. Verse 18 says, “The way is prepared for all men from the foundation of the world, if it so be that they repent and come unto [Christ].” That verse stood out and gave me courage I needed to meet with my bishop. One of my closest friends who was also struggling spoke with her bishop as well. A few weeks ago we were able to go to the temple. I know Christ loves us and that He did atone for our sins. I love Him and I’m grateful for this knowledge.

When Leo Winegar of the United States first encountered questions about Church history, he learned the importance of compassionate friends. “My testimony withered,” he explains, as he went through a period of “loneliness and dark despair when I struggled to pray.” One day Leo felt impressed to contact a Church history professor. He not only encouraged Leo to reconsider his path of doubt but also became a close friend. Leo’s testimony gradually returned with the help of Leo’s mentor and years of hopeful study. In time, he found answers to many questions. “I feel eternally grateful to my Savior Jesus Christ for guiding me back,” he explains, “and for the friends who represented Him.”

“Brother Jacobs told us about the actual people the play was based on. They left their family behind in Armenia because they knew the Church was true. They decided to come to Utah. After they left, their family was killed. It makes you realize how important this play is. It gives you an appreciation for what people went through,” says 16-year-old Shae Dunkley.
Armenia of the 1890s may seem an unlikely place to find a missionary story, but the play “And They Shall Be Gathered,” written by Martin Kelly, is exactly that. Based on the true conversion story of husband and wife Arzuman and Akaby Tavoian, the play explores not only gospel principles but the love of a family as well.
Arzuman and Akaby (named Sarkis and Arick in the play) learn about the gospel individually, and each decides to be baptized—without telling the other person. (Because of their common last name, the missionaries are unaware that they are married.) When they discover they are both members of this new religion, they realize they must leave the country and go to Utah in order to fully live and practice their faith.
Just as they are preparing to leave, another young family member is killed in an accident. The family is severely saddened by the death and doesn’t understand why he was taken so young. Sarkis and Arick are able to leave with their family the gospel message of hope and the knowledge of life after death.
They then bid their family a fond but teary farewell and set out for Utah.
Sadly, Sarkis and Arick never hear from their family again. It is assumed that they were killed by invading Turks just after Sarkis and Arick left the country.

Several years later, when the teenage Joseph related to his family that he’d seen a vision, Hyrum—along with his mother and father—believed the report and began devotedly working to support Joseph in any way that he could. Some older brothers might have grown jealous at the Lord’s choosing a younger brother to lead. Not Hyrum. Never feeling or displaying envy, he continued to offer love and assistance to Joseph throughout his life. Perhaps one of the Lord’s most precious gifts to Joseph was his brother Hyrum.

On many evenings the family gathered near the hearth to be taught by the young prophet. They listened to what the Lord had revealed to Joseph, and to the fascinating tales that he told them about how the ancient Nephites and Lamanites dressed, what their buildings looked like, how they traveled, and what kinds of weapons they used. Hyrum and the other family members were anxious to learn and to assist Joseph in his calling.

I returned from my mission and studied mechanical engineering here at BYU. I also had the extraordinary good fortune to marry my wife, Peggy. As my graduation approached, I had a desire to get an advanced degree. Peggy had graduated in accounting and had a good job at a local CPA firm, I loved BYU, and it made sense to continue here for a master’s degree.

However, as we thought and prayed about it, we felt a clear impression that I should accept a job offer from an aerospace company in Texas. Although not as obvious at first, after some thought the advantages of this decision seemed clear. We already had our first child, Angela, and Peggy would be able to stay home with her. The company offered a program where they would pay my tuition to pursue an advanced degree part-time. Several local universities offered courses where the lectures were sent to the company by closed-circuit television. The company would allow me to attend classes during the day so long as I made up the time later. Another advantage of the job was that I would be an engineer on the design of the YF-22, the first prototype of what would become the U.S. Air Force F-22 Raptor. This was an unusual opportunity for a recent university graduate, and it was right in line with my love of doing new things.

Our family moved to Texas, and I had a great work experience. But it was also intense. It was a secret defense project with a tight deadline, and I was required to work over 60 hours a week. After adding in the responsibilities of a Church calling and a growing family, taking classes just wasn’t feasible.

I was disappointed and maybe even felt a little picked on. We were trying to do what we felt was right and follow the promptings we had received, but the goal of getting an advanced degree wasn’t working out. It turned out once again, however, that God’s plan was much better than my own. By taking this job, not only did I receive great work experience, but the long hours also came with overtime pay that we were able to save for a down payment on a house—or so we thought. Having those funds in the bank gave us the courage to eventually pursue graduate work full-time.

So our family, which by then included our son Travis, moved to Indiana, where I pursued an MS and a PhD at Purdue University. Having those doors opened gave me the educational experience that I needed to pursue my current career. By the time I finished my PhD, our third child, Nathan, had been born. And, as you might imagine, there were many other miracles and tender mercies required before I graduated. I wish I could say that I had the faith in Christ that helped this happen, but I can say that the experience, and others like it, provided opportunities to reflect and see God’s hand in my life. Having those experiences strengthened my trust in Him. When things appear to not be going my way, I can reflect on those experiences and trust Him and His will.

“What we wanted,” said President Michael Moulton of the Heber City Utah East Stake, “was some kind of meaningful project which would unite the youth of the stake for a few days of dedicated, all-consuming service.” Then he made it even tougher. “It should not only benefit the community, but teach our youth some basic skill.”
So should we have them construct log cabins, do plumbing, or lay brick? Or should we call in the Peace Corps?
The answer came when one of the leaders contacted Uinta National Forest officials, who suggested we organize a Touch America Project, which allows volunteers to learn about America’s natural resources by working under the direction of rangers on public lands. Ranger Roy H. Daniels said that to help with flood control, a rock wall needed to be built at Whiskey Springs picnic area in Daniels Canyon, before spring runoff began.
Youth leaders were called from each of the six wards in the stake. Footings were poured with donated concrete. Sand was hauled to the site, rocks were gathered, and soon portable mixers were stirring cement. With the help of a professional stone mason and a seminary teacher with previous cement experience, the youth began building the wall.
Work progressed over a number of successive Saturdays. The Forest Service was so pleased they asked us to extend the wall an extra hundred feet. Thanks to dry weather, the runoff was lower and later than usual, and we continued working through the end of May. On May 30 the final stones were laid, a cement cap was smoothed in place, and the project was completed.
I asked Kenneth Critchfield, of the Daniel Ward, how he felt about working on the project.
“I graduated from high school last night,” Ken said, looking a little bleary-eyed. “But I wouldn’t have slept in and missed this. I got here at 7:00 A.M. I just love the way this wall looks.”
If constructed professionally, the wall would have cost more than $15,000. Instead, it cost only time and labor. And it is now a monument to the youth of our stake. Imagine how they will feel when they bring their children here and tell them, “I helped build the wall.”

Ours was a very contented marriage as long as we left religion out of it, which was all right with both of us. Because of my extremely unhappy childhood, at eighteen I left home and church, marrying Norman, a nonmember, when I was twenty. And even though I was not living my religion, I do feel the Holy Ghost guided and protected me in my marriage. Norman was a fine man and, though strongly prejudiced against the Church, agreed to let me raise our children as Mormons. I never intended to set foot in the church again myself, but my spiritual roots must have been deeper than I knew.
We were not blessed with children for fifteen years, and then we adopted a baby boy; two and a half years later I gave birth to a son. When Douglas was three, I took him to Sunday School because I had decided that my children would be taken, not sent as I had been. I had no intention of getting involved; I just wanted our two boys to get a good religious background. One of my favorite sayings was, “My bad habits hurt no one but me, but if I ever accept a call in the Church I will live the standards fully.” I felt safe, since I never intended to accept a call. But when Steven was nearly three, I was called to teach the 3-year-olds group in Junior Sunday School. With great reluctance I accepted the call; Steven wouldn’t go to Sunday School without me, so I was trapped. And I began to live the Word of Wisdom and all other commandments to the best of my ability.
Gradually I discovered that the gospel was what I needed and wanted for my family. I gained a strong testimony, went through a very painful period of repentance, and dedicated my life to the Lord. In 1956 I received my patriarchal blessing and in it the comforting assurance: “If you are faithful and prayerful the Lord shall go before you and by his messenger shall prepare the way that in due time the righteous desire of your heart, and the prayer of your life, shall be answered, and all shall be well.”
What happiness I now knew! Yet it was not without its sadness, because my dear husband would have none of it. I was stubborn and I tried to force the gospel on him. I wanted him to understand and accept this wonderful thing that I had found. With me pushing and pulling, we came close to divorce in 1958.
This crisis completely humbled me and I spent a great deal of time in prayer, putting the matter in my Heavenly Father’s hands. I knew that there must be no more pushing and pulling, no more making my husband feel guilty that he did not attend church with us. And I began trying to make a truly happy home for him. I resolved to be an exemplary and loving wife in every way and leave him his free agency. Norman, being an honorable man, held to his agreement to let me raise the boys in the Church. This was admirable, because his deep prejudice had been there since childhood. My boys and I accepted every call to serve in the Church, and we always returned home with happy smiles and love for dad. We prayed for him, fasted for him, but above all, we loved him. He was always the head of the family.
I felt I must know the gospel well in order to answer any questions Norman might ask, so for fourteen years I studied diligently—and the more I learned, the more important the gospel became. I spoke of it to him only when moved by the Spirit, and many times I received definite promptings as to what to say and when to say it. To talk about these fourteen years in just a few sentences is not really enough. There were many setbacks and much heartache, but the boys and I never ceased to live the gospel.
In 1967 Norman elected to join a religious service fraternity, and I worried that this would be one more barrier to his conversion. Strenuously, I told my objections, telling him it would lead to further prejudice against the Church. When he said he was not prejudiced, I asked, “Are you tolerant enough to go to church with me?” He didn’t answer, but later that day he said that if I really wanted him to attend, he would. So he began attending the investigators’ class in Sunday School, and within a year he was also attending sacrament meeting. Of course, the boys and I were delighted, and we will be forever grateful to the ward members for the way they welcomed him and made him a part of the ward. But through that year I could sense a great struggle going on inside him. He questioned many doctrines. (Later, when we asked him what was most instrumental in his conversion, he said that his family meant more to him than anything else, and this church’s family orientation was a strong appeal. Second, he was unable to prove the gospel wrong, so decided it must be right.) I was also gratified that we were invited to many social activities in the homes of ward members, and Norman found that we could enjoy ourselves without the need for alcoholic drinks. He also supported both boys on missions and gave brief talks in sacrament meeting prior to their leaving.
But it was the inspiring words of Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Council of the Twelve, given at the Relief Society conference in Salt Lake City in the fall of 1971, that gave me the courage to tell my husband how I felt about him joining the Church. Among other things, Elder Packer said:
“I have often said that a man cannot resist membership if his wife really wants him to have it, and if she knows how to give him encouragement.
“If you have faith enough and desire enough, you will yet have at the head of your home a father and husband who is active and faithful in the Church.
“Some who have long since lost hope have said bitterly, ‘It would take a miracle!’ And so I say, Why not? Why not a miracle! Is there a purpose more worthy than that?
“And I repeat, if your husband doesn’t feel at home going to church, then do everything you can to make him feel at church while he’s at home.
“Sisters, make the gospel seem worthwhile to them, and then let them know that that is your purpose.
“He needs to know, he needs to be told that you care about the gospel and what it means to you.” (“Begin Where You Are—at Home,” International Magazines, July 1972.)
Now an apostle of the Lord had told me to tell my husband what it would mean to me for him to accept the gospel. What a task! In our home the gospel was never mentioned unless my husband started talking about it first. I wept, trying to figure out how I’d ever be able to do it. Then I remembered the scripture, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10). I decided once again to fast and pray and trust in the Lord. It took me until January 1972 to find the courage to speak.
Then, one night, I asked Norman if he felt he could ever accept the gospel. He gave me a firm, but not unkind, no. Taking a deep breath, I told him how much the boys and I loved him, what a fine father and husband he had been; but, I said, he was unable to give me the thing I wanted most of all. Well, I had done it! An apostle of the Lord had told me to do it. Within six months of that night, after thirty-seven years of marriage, Norman was baptized. It was indeed a miracle.
Looking back on the months following that January conversation, I can see that many things happened to bring this about. Some friends from Salt Lake City gave Norman the book, No More Strangers by Hartman and Connie Rector, and challenged Norman to take his place at the head of his family and bear the priesthood. After our younger boy’s missionary farewell, where Norman spoke briefly, Norman’s Sunday School teacher challenged him to be baptized. Steven wrote letters of encouragement and asked his dad to read the Book of Mormon. Douglas also bore testimony to him. Though Steven had left a nonmember father behind in 1972, he returned in 1974 to find his father sitting on the stand as second counselor in the bishopric.

As some of you may know, Mike Wallace, senior correspondent of the 60 Minutes CBS program, recently interviewed me. I consented to this interview only with the hope that good would come to the Church because of it. He asked me many questions over several hours; it seemed to me like hundreds of questions. Among his questions was something to this effect: “Your church is growing in many parts of the world. How do you explain this?”

I replied to this effect: “This work stands as an anchor of stability, an anchor of values, in a world whose values are shifting. We stand for something. Our values find their roots in the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ. These are unchanging. They are today as they were when Jesus walked the earth. They are as applicable now as they were then. They have been tested in the cauldron of human history, and they have not been found wanting. We expect great things of our people. This religion is demanding. It requires self-discipline. It requires study and courage and faith. People are responding to this as they feel the ground under them shake with uncertainties in a world of crumbling values.”

I do not ask that you be prudes. I ask only that you choose the right. Members of the Mike Wallace team spoke with a few students like you when they were here. These were both young men and young women. The reporters told me that the students said that it was easy to turn down a cigarette. There was no problem in refusing beer. The lines were clearly drawn on these things. But sex was a different matter. It was harder to tell where to draw the line.

I replied, “Those students know where to draw the line. They do not have to have that defined in clinical detail. They know when they are on slippery ground.”

For some years we lived near a very skilled mechanic. He and his wife resolved never to go in debt. This resolution was born of a bitter memory. When they were newly married and had their small family, the Great Depression came along, and, as skilled as he was, he could not find a job. Their home mortgage was foreclosed, and they lived through the depression in a chicken coop, which was made reasonably comfortable because of his mechanical skills.

While serving as a mission president, I presided over the membership council of a brother that resulted in the withdrawal of his Church membership. This man repented of his sins and after a year was authorized to be rebaptized.
After his baptism, I received an email from him that read: “Dear President, yesterday the ordinance of baptism was performed, and I can assure you that I feel like new. A miracle was performed within me. The sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ became effective in me. Today, I feel free from the oppression of sin. I know that I would not have achieved this alone. My leaders and my wife helped me keep my sights on the goal. Christ is my Savior. The miracle of forgiveness exists.”

For the past four years, Brandon R., 17, has been able to earn spending money and save for a mission all while doing something he loves: teaching piano lessons. “I love influencing others to enjoy the wonderful gift of making music,” Brandon says.
Brandon has been taking lessons himself since he was only two years old. He currently has students ranging from ages 6 to 15. He loves watching their progress as they learn to enjoy playing.
“When I started teaching one student,” Brandon says, “he would run away. But then he started liking it more and more.”
Now in his senior year, Brandon is seeking additional students so he can save money even faster for his mission.
Brandon believes that from teaching piano, his teaching techniques in other areas have improved. “I think, for example, it’s easier to teach my brother something in math or to teach somebody something in a class,” he says. “There’s no better way to improve your teaching skills than to practice.”

Dressed in 19th century clothing, pushing and pulling handcarts, leaving home comforts and technology behind, a group of teenagers in Tasmania recently took part in a trek.
The purpose of the activity—organised by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—was to help each young person feel—even in small measure—what the early pioneers of their faith experienced when they travelled across the plains of North America.
A trek reminds members of the sacrifices and lessons learned by the Church’s 19th century converts as they travelled from America’s Midwest to the Salt Lake Valley. For these youth, it also helped them remember the history of the Church in Tasmania.
In 1854 the first members of the Church in Tasmania were baptized in a small creek in Glen Huon. During the trek the group stopped at the creek to acknowledge the sacrifices made by those who came before them.
Rachael Sayers, one of the trek organisers, described the experience this way: “Imagine this scenario: Over 80 teenagers gather together for four days, all having a desire to work together in groups that are not of their choice, walking over widely varied terrain, through mud and puddles, up and down rocky, slippery hills, working in unity, serving each other, giving their time, sweat, and energy, sharing their faith and testimonies, and without a comfortable place to sleep, without jealousies, without murmurings, without conflicts. Sounds hard to imagine, doesn’t it?”
One young participant, Emma, said, “I have a deeper appreciation for the strength of youth and what they can achieve when they are united and pushed out of their comfort zone.”
Another organiser, Steve King, said, “It is difficult to describe the energy and teamwork that shone forth as the youth and leaders became one in purpose and moved out as a body to take on the arduous journey.”
According to one youth leader, small miracles are not unusual on trek, as it is designed to build faith through sacrifice, courage, and sheer hard work. Those who participated in the Tasmania trek learned who they really are. They are modern-day pioneers facing challenges with determination, faith, and love.

Mary Lou Beilfuss, a Laurel from the Holladay 17th Ward, Salt Lake Olympus Stake, earned the money for her banner by working at a grocery store. The theme of her banner was eternal life.
“It helped me understand more about the recent death of my father, because I studied more about eternal life. The subject was on my mind a lot, and the banner gave me the opportunity to express it on material.
“My mother and sister helped me make it. We are very close already, but working together helped us share our love. I feel close to them because they’re always willing to help. We also shared tears together because the banner had a very special meaning. It made my sister and I think of our father and my mom of her husband.
“I learned from making this banner that I am a daughter of God and that he is there when I call. It has helped my self-image and helped me grow closer to my Heavenly Father. Also, it comforted me about my father’s death,” said Mary Lou.

As anxious European Saints crowded aboard the beautiful sailing ship Olympus, an apostle prophesied that their voyage would be terrible—but successful.
Elder John Taylor, presiding over the French Mission, was in England on Church business in early March 1851. He took time to bid good-bye to friends—converts and missionaries—then leaving Liverpool for America aboard the Olympus. One friend was William Howell, who the previous year had opened up France for the preaching of the gospel, and who was named presiding elder for the 245 Saints taking the trip. Elder Taylor wished the travelers well. Then he prophetically warned that the Olympus would be wracked by storms, that Saints would suffer from evil spirits and from sickness, but “that God would preserve them in the midst of all dangers, and lead them to a harbor of safety.”
Another part of Elder Taylor’s prophecy likewise found quick fulfillment. Hardly had the Olympus entered the terrible Irish Sea when harsh head winds whipped huge waves against the wooden vessel day and night. For three weeks many of the tossed-about passengers were seasick, “suffering intensely from the distressing affliction.” Finally, when a calm day brought relief, the passengers felt the worst part of their voyage was behind them. But Captain Wilson’s trained eyes, making a careful survey of the horizon, spotted a rapidly approaching cloud. At first it was no bigger than a man’s hat, but it swelled and spread at an alarming rate.
Quickly the captain massed both shifts of the crew on deck and ordered all sails immediately shortened. He allowed Brother Nowers and a 20-year-old carpenter from Dover, Edmund Fuller, to stay aloft and help the crew. (Later in the voyage Mr. Fuller fell in love with a Mormon girl, Adelaide Jelley, and he joined the Church and married her in St. Louis.)
Barely were sails hauled in and secured, and passengers herded below deck, when the new storm struck the ship full force. The Olympus trembled and reeled “like a drunkard.” The “regular white squall” snapped the foremast off and carried it overboard. Several men nearly went overboard with the broken mast, which, hanging by the ship’s side, had to be cut loose from its stays with axes. Torrents of wind and water sprang the mainmast at the deck.
Thrown on her beam ends the Olympus became unmanageable. Into a fearfully dark night the ship struggled, battered by hurricane winds. Seams of the vessel cracked, letting water seep into the hold.
Two hours after the storm began, about 8:00 P.M., four feet of water had poured into the hold and the ship’s pumps were started. Above, knee-deep waters rushed over the decks, causing Brother Nowers and Mr. Fuller to lash themselves to the pumps they were manning to keep from being washed overboard. Hour after hour the storm raged. And the Olympus took on more and more water.
By midnight the captain, crew, and men on deck were despondent because the storm showed no signs of abating. Within earshot of Brother Nowers the captain ordered Second Mate Hamilton to go below deck and tell the Mormon’s president, Elder Howell, that “if the God of the Mormons can do anything to save the ship and the people, they had better be calling on him to do so.” The captain confessed that despite the crew’s best efforts the Olympus was sinking at the rate of one foot per hour and that by daylight it would be on the bottom of the sea unless the storm ceased.
The second mate asked Brother Nowers to accompany him below to deliver the message to the Mormons. As soon as the crashing waves allowed, the two messengers unbarred the companionway and ducked below. They found Elder Howell in his bed and told him the captain’s appeal.
“Very well,” answered the Mormon leader calmly. “You may tell Captain Wilson that we are not going to the bottom of the ocean for we embarked from Liverpool on a voyage for New Orleans, and we will arrive safely in that port. Our God will protect us.” Mr. Hamilton returned to the deck and gave Captain Wilson the Mormons’ answer.
Brother Nowers, dripping wet, could not help noticing the absolute chaos below deck. Everywhere unsecured trunks and packages rolled and skidded from one side to the other as the ship swayed and rolled. Some passengers were crying. Others prayed. Still others simply waited.
President Howell quickly arose, dressed, and called about a dozen brethren, including new convert Wilson Nowers, to his side. The leader instructed that each man in the circle take a turn to pray vocally that the Lord would spare the vessel. Elder Howell prayed last.
“While he was still engaged in prayer,” said Brother Nowers, “I noticed a material change in the motion of the ship.” Instead of rolling and pitching, the Olympus “seemed to tremble as one suffering from the effects of a severe cold.” He could not believe the ship was sinking. But he also could not believe that the storm had so suddenly ceased.
After the final hearty “amen” President Howell sent the prayer circle members back to bed. Brother Nowers, however, returned to his pumping duties on deck. There, astonished, he found that “the storm had miraculously ceased; the wind had gone down, and the waves were stilled immediately around the ship, while in the distance the billows were still raging.” The Olympus trembled at so sudden a change.
Pumping continued until daylight. When the Sabbath day finally dawned, clear and bright, Captain Wilson admitted that he had done all he could do before calling on the Mormons and that only God’s hand had saved the sinking ship.

Basketball is one of the most important things in the life of Roger Enrique Velasquez Paredes, who goes by Koki because it’s much easier to say when the clock is running down and the game is on the line.
Koki, a member of the Victoria Ward, Puno Peru Central Stake, is a starting forward on the Benson Jazz under-17 boys’ team, a community league team sponsored by Church members in Puno, Peru. Koki’s team went undefeated going into the championship game each of the last two seasons and took second both years.
His experience on the team has taught Koki not only a lot about basketball but also a lot about living the gospel and making seminary worthwhile.
“Seminary and basketball aren’t so different,” he says, then laughs. “I have to wake up early for both.”
Joking aside, Koki does see some important similarities between the game he loves and the gospel he lives: you have to listen to the coach, apply what he’s teaching, and not stop practicing what you’ve learned.
Koki says his coach is great, but it doesn’t matter how good your coach is if you don’t listen. Seminary is no different.
“In both basketball and seminary, I have a good coach,” Koki says. “But if I don’t listen, I don’t get any better.”
A coach tries to teach a player things that will make him or her better, like how to shoot. “The teacher is doing the same thing,” Koki says. Among other things, teachers try to help students succeed against their opponent in life. “They try to teach us how to leave the world and strengthen us against temptation.”
Koki has learned that just showing up, whether in basketball practice or at seminary and church, isn’t enough to make you better. You have to listen to the coach.
Koki tries to listen while the coach is explaining something new. But he has learned that if he really wants to understand what the coach is saying, he’ll have to put it into practice.
Putting something into practice, or applying it, is an important part of learning, Koki says. A coach can talk all day long about good shooting form and even demonstrate over and over, but until you practice doing what he says, you won’t have learned how to do it yourself.
“That’s how I learned about prayer,” Koki says. He had been taught that consistent personal prayer would invite the Lord’s help. “But it was only after I tried it that I found it was true.”
Putting gospel principles into practice gives the Holy Ghost an opportunity to testify to us that the principle is true.
“If we learn something new but don’t apply it, it’s like we never really learned it,” Koki says.
Koki listened when his coach taught about shooting, and he tried to apply what he learned. Now, in order to improve, Koki has to be diligent in practicing.
Diligence means dedication or persistence in applying what you’ve learned even in the face of opposition.
“I have to be dedicated,” Koki says. “If I stop training, my skills will get rusty.”
That’s an important lesson he learned after he couldn’t practice for a while because he broke his nose in a rough pickup game with some older players.
“If we don’t practice, we don’t just stop progressing—we lose ground,” Koki says. “It’s the same spiritually. If we pay attention and apply what we learn, we can learn more. If not, we lose what we have.”
Koki’s teammates have done their best to listen to the coach and apply what he’s taught them. They practice for hours to keep what they’ve learned.
They’ve also learned that after all of that, it is possible—and disappointing—to fall short of perfection. “We worked hard,” Koki says. “It was discouraging to lose the championship again.”
But while immediate perfection isn’t guaranteed, it would be impossible if they gave up trying. In the meantime, Koki has seen that there are many rewards, including improvement and progress, that come from trying.
Koki, who is serving as a ward missionary, has seen rewards for being diligent off the court as well. He helped organize movie nights, campouts, and sports activities in order to interest two young men in his ward who hadn’t attended church for some time. “At first we’d have to go get them, or they wouldn’t come,” he says. “Now they come on their own. It took a little time and a lot of visits, but they’re coming regularly now.”
Between playing basketball, going to seminary, and serving in the Church, Koki is learning what King Benjamin meant when he said we must be diligent to “win the prize” (Mosiah 4:27).
He’s also learning that both on the court and off, the rewards are worth the work.

Recorded in Church History is the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith's reaction to the need of a Church member.

Evidently, Joseph was working in his garden in Nauvoo, and several of the brethren were sitting on the rail fence surrounding the garden asking questions and listening to the Prophet teach them. Another person approached them and commented to Joseph that a certain member who lived some distance from Nauvoo had his house burn down the night before. Nearly all of the men expressed their sympathy for the man's loss. Joseph put his hand in his pocket, took out five dollars and exclaimed, "I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars: how much do you feel sorry?"[13]

The other brethren present immediately began to search their own pockets for spare money, as the Prophet had shown them by example that "action speaks louder than words."