Gospel Story Finder

When we were in South America, in Uruguay, a woman there told us that she had only been a member of the Church for a year or two but that she had brought 92 people into the Church. She went to the market to get her food for the day, and there she would spend a little time with other women whom she had met before, and she would say to them, “Have you heard the Mormon elders from America? Well, you had better listen to them. They have a great message that will change your life. Ninety-two people had listened to her, and she had contacted the missionaries, and they had baptized them.

And so it was that on August 4, 1899, in Whitney, Idaho, Sarah Benson started into labor. Her husband, George, gave her a blessing. “Dr. Allan Cutler attended her in the bedroom of their farm home, with both grandmothers, Louisa Benson and Margaret Dunkley, there. The delivery was protracted. As the baby, a large boy, was delivered, the doctor couldn’t get him to breathe and quickly laid him on the bed and pronounced, ‘There’s no hope for the child, but I believe we can save the mother.’ While Dr. Cutler feverishly attended to Sarah, the grandmothers rushed to the kitchen, praying silently as they worked, and returned shortly with two pans of water—one cold, the other warm. Alternately, they dipped the baby first in cold and then in warm water, until finally they heard a cry. The 11 3/4 pound boy was alive! Later, both grandmothers bore testimony that the Lord had spared the child. George and Sarah named him Ezra Taft Benson” (Sheri L. Dew, Ezra Taft Benson: A Biography [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987], pp. 13–14).

As a freshman in our country’s best university, I felt pressure to do my best. Persecution came, and I started to question my belief in the gospel as many of my professors expounded on what they professed to be “reality.” Many of my classmates were affected. This environment made it difficult to uphold Christian values. I thought of quitting but decided it was better to stay. I reasoned that if there were only a few who qualified to enter this university, and among those few were only a few Latter-day Saints, then I should stay and stand for truth.
My biology professor, a self-professed atheist, taught science without any belief in a Supreme Creator. Yet the more I heard, the more it reinforced to me that there is a Supreme Being—God, our Father—who created all these things. Others argued that this idea didn’t make any sense. Our discussions got more intense. I was anxious to raise my hand and explain I believe in God as the Creator.
The time came to give comments. At my school, it was normal for people to applaud, yell, or boo at those who presented their ideas. I stood boldly and said plainly to the opposing side: “Believing in God may not make any sense to you at the moment, but the day will come when it will all make sense to you as clearly as it does to me now.”
Since that time, I’ve never received any boos when standing up for my beliefs. From that time forward, I progressed academically, socially, and spiritually. I started to become active in student activities, and I was elected to several school offices.
I learned that standing for truth even once greatly affects our future decisions.
Vince A. Molejan Jr., Mindanao, Philippines

During her Peace Corps service, Martha recalls wanting an understanding of eternity and her place in God’s plan. She had inborn faith in a loving Father in Heaven. “I began feeling spiritual promptings telling me to set my house in order,” she remembers. “But when and for what reason was not clear.”
As Martha continued to lose herself in service, she began to awaken spiritually. She occasionally became discouraged, but remembers that she felt very close to God. “I relied on his Spirit to strengthen and direct me,” she says. “During this time, I had a dream similar to the one I would later recognize when I read the Book of Mormon—that of the rod leading to the tree of life. Other dreams assured me that my Heavenly Father would lead me from darkness into the light.
“I began reading my Bible daily but did not understand it,” she says. “I didn’t know what my next step should be—I just trusted the Lord. Then my mother became ill and I returned to Atlanta to care for her. I still continued to search the scriptures.”
While Martha stayed at her mother’s home, two missionaries came to the door. “We are here to teach you the restored gospel of Jesus Christ,” they said. After the first lesson, Martha felt grateful for additional knowledge, but she wasn’t inclined to join this “true church.” But by the third lesson, she began to receive answers to her prayers. She felt strongly that she was being led to this church where she would find people who would love and accept her.
On 1 May 1983, Martha Poston was baptized. She recalls that “my soul hungered and my mind and spirit were athirst, and God didn’t fail me.”

When there are no exciting climbs planned, Bennett and Kevin often just take off on a hike. One day they decided it would be interesting to hike through the mountains to Strawberry Reservoir, a 30-mile jaunt as the hypothetical crow flies, but closer to 50 on foot over tall mountains and through deep valleys. A little more than 24 hours after setting out, they staggered up to the placid blue water of the reservoir. Why do they do things like that? They shrug their shoulders. “It’s a challenge, I guess.”

In May of 1967 I graduated from BYU-Provo with a wife and two small children. The following day I was commissioned a second lieutenant in the United States Air Force. We had orders for Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, near Dayton, Ohio. We loaded our little family in our very old car and commenced a journey across the country to my first Air Force assignment.

We had been led to believe that military housing was plentiful at Wright-Patterson. However, when we arrived at the base, to our dismay, we learned that the wait for base housing was at least one year. We had less than one hundred dollars and our first Air Force paycheck was thirty days away. What were we to do?A family of four in a new location with little money and no place to live.

We decided to locate the only friend we had in Ohio, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We telephoned a counselor in the bishopric of the Fairborn Ward, Denny Foscarini. I introduced myself and told him of our plight. He said, "Brother Russell, are you in a position to stay in a motel tonight?" I said that we were. He then asked that our family come to his home the next day. We arrived that next evening and for the first time the Foscarinis met the Russells. We had dinner. Then the blessing came. "Brother Russell, on Friday, we are going on vacation for thirty-days. Would your family be willing to stay in our home?"

Brothers and Sisters, I don't think that instant bonding between the Russells and the Foscarinis, that sense of trust, that spirit of sharing, could have possibly occurred were in not for our mutual friend, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

At the beginning of each year, I make at least one resolution. Last year, I resolved to read the Book of Mormon every day. But I didn’t want to just read it like I would any other book. I committed to really study and ponder the things I would read.
The night that I resolved to do this, I said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me stick to my goal. Then I started reading. As I read, the Spirit filled my room, and I knew this was going to be one resolution that I would keep.
There were many nights that I couldn’t put my book down to go to sleep because I was so involved with what I was reading. As I read about the prophets, they came alive to me. I felt like I was getting to know them each individually. They were becoming a part of my life like never before.
Whenever I experienced a trial or hardship, I would think of the trials that Nephi, Abinadi, or Alma went through. For the most part, my trials seemed small in comparison. But the lessons I learned from my trials were similar. I learned faith, patience, humility, and forgiveness. Most important of all, I learned how important and how real the Atonement of Jesus Christ is.
I am grateful that my testimony of the Book of Mormon has been strengthened, and that my love for the prophets and for my Savior has deepened.

Let me begin with a legend. There is a story of a grandfather, a holy man, who, caring for his grandson, sent him out to play. Shortly the boy returned sobbing as if his heart would break. He explained, “I was playing hide-and-seek with my friends. I went and hid and waited but no one came for me. They all ran away.” The grandfather embraced him and said, “Now you know how God feels. He hides and no one comes for him.”

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

Years later, our family had grown to five children, including our youngest, Spencer.
Once, when Spencer was six years old, my wife and I went away for just a few days and left the children with a babysitter. When we returned home, I sat down with Spencer and asked him how everything had gone while we were away.
He told me that he’d had a hard time sleeping. When I asked why he didn’t sleep well, he thought about it and said he did not know.
Later that evening our family began our nightly routine of reading the Book of Mormon together.
Suddenly Spencer exclaimed, “That’s it!” I asked what he was talking about. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep very well at night.”
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” I asked.
“We didn’t read the scriptures at night while you were gone, and I like how the scriptures make me feel.”
Spencer had learned that reading the scriptures every day brings us the comfort, peace, and guidance of the Holy Ghost.

The Bountiful (Utah) 42nd Ward wanted to give the shirts off their backs, but instead they arranged to buy some. New white shirts were purchased to be given to native missionaries entering the Chilean Missionary Training Center.
President Dave Lloyd, a member of the Bountiful Utah Mueller Park Stake, was serving as president of the Chilean Missionary Training Center. He and his wife returned to the United States while he underwent surgery. When President and sister Lloyd returned to Chile, they took the donated shirts and ties with them to aid missionaries entering the mission field in Chile.

In early 2011, New Mexico—usually a mild desert state—felt record low temperatures. The freezing caused pipes all over the state to burst, including some in the stake center where the Scouts of Troop 211 meet. Within hours volunteers, including many of these Scouts, were at the building to help clean up.
But serving together is nothing new for the boys of the troop. Just days after helping clear out the building, parents and Scouts gathered to hold a court of honor for the 10 boys from the ward who would be receiving Eagle awards. These young men had performed a host of service projects in their community, including organizing a blood drive; cleaning up a baseball field; working on the landscaping, classrooms, and libraries of local schools; and assisting with research for eye diseases in Peru. In recognition of the boys’ collective service, the city’s mayor attended their court of honor and pronounced February 9, 2011, as “Troop 211 Eagle Scouts Day.”

A few years later, Elder Harbertson played softball for a commercial team. “And when we went into the state tournament and the national tournament,” he recounted, “games were scheduled on Sundays. I went to the manager and said, ‘I’m sorry, but I won’t play on Sunday.’ I thought I would be dismissed from the team, but I was allowed to play in the state tournament. I played every game but the one on Sunday, and we won the state tournament. Then, as we were preparing to go to the nationals, the coach came to me and said, ‘We let you play in the state tournament and miss the game on Sunday, but we can only take twelve players to the nationals, and we have to have you play on Sunday.’ I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t play on Sunday.’ I thought, There goes my dream of playing in the national tournament. But the team had a meeting, and they decided to let me go, and I played every game but the one on Sunday! Heavenly Father always blesses you when you choose to do right!”

“Want to try again?” Elder Higgins asked as we approached a group of houses next to a church.
I knocked on the door and stood back waiting. A tall man wearing a clerical collar opened the door and smiled at us like the cat about to eat the canary.
“What can I do for you boys?” he said with a very proper British accent. He obviously knew who we were.
I glanced at the mailbox as I swallowed and stepped back. “The Reverend Richard Cutts, Ph.D.,” it said.
What could I say to this man? How could I challenge what he believed? I whispered a quick prayer. I could see Elder Higgins getting ready to jump in.
It’s funny how much can go through your mind in a few seconds. I thought of my first Primary teacher, Oma Santos, telling the story of Moses and the burning bush; my Sunday School teacher, Cloe Davis, explaining the importance of Joseph Smith’s first vision; Velda Dalton teaching about the Sermon on the Mount; and my Uncle Elton talking about the restoration of the priesthood in deacons class. I grew up in a small town in southern Utah. None of my teachers had Ph.D. behind their name. None of them read Greek or Latin like Reverend Cutts most likely did. But it didn’t matter. What they knew was much more important.
“I’m Elder Roberts,” I said, feeling for the first time the strength and importance of what I’d been taught, what I was here to teach. “This is Elder Higgins, and we’d like to tell you about the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
The expression on Reverend Cutts’s face changed. He looked a little surprised. “Come on in,” he said, smiling.

One summer many, many years ago, my mother decided it would be a great project for her children to refinish the dining room chairs. The chairs were painted a dark cherry color, and my mother had discovered that underneath that paint was good, hard maple wood.
I will never forget that experience. We began by applying a nasty solvent called toluene to all the painted surfaces, and then we scraped the paint off. Once the paint was removed, we had to sand the wood with several grades of sandpaper in order to remove the very last bits of paint and to prepare the wood for a new finish. When the sanding was finally done, we applied a finish to highlight the grain and enhance the wood’s natural color. In the final step we sealed the new hardwood finish with two coats of varnish. Those chairs were transformed!
I think about that experience every time I read Alma’s penetrating question to the members of the Church in Zarahemla:
Behold, are ye stripped of pride? I say unto you, if ye are not ye are not prepared to meet God. Behold ye must prepare quickly; for the kingdom of heaven is soon at hand, and such an one hath not eternal life.1
The words “are ye stripped of pride?” evoke in me images and smells from that summer. I think of toluene and scraping and stripping and sanding to get down to bare wood. When I think of the finishing process with a vibrant color and the protecting sealing varnish, I think of the description of the Savior as “the author and finisher of our faith”2 and the words of King Benjamin to his people:
Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works, that Christ, the Lord God Omnipotent, may seal you his.3

When I moved to Utah, I was instantly greeted by Jenny. She welcomed me to the ward and introduced me to others in the room. Jenny radiated love for others.
Each week, she searched for those who were a bit lost at church. They would be quiet, often sitting in the back or in a corner in meetings. She hugged each one and engaged them in conversation. It didn’t matter who they were—no one escaped Jenny’s embrace. She glowed with Christlike love and acceptance.
Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles described what can happen when we minister out of love: “We will serve not because our service is being counted and measured but because we love our Father in Heaven and are motivated by a higher and nobler pursuit—helping our friends find and stay on the path home to Him. We are loving and serving our neighbors as Jesus would if He were in our place, truly trying to improve people’s lives and lighten their burdens.”
President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, spoke of the “poor in spirit” who struggle and shared his deep testimony of the power of Christ’s love: “There can and will be plenty of difficulties in life. Nevertheless, the soul that comes unto Christ, who knows His voice and strives to do as He did, finds a strength, as the hymn says, ‘beyond [his] own’ [“Lord, I Would Follow Thee,” Hymns, no. 220]. The Savior reminds us that He has ‘graven [us] upon the palms of [His] hands’ [1 Nephi 21:16]. … When He says to the poor in spirit, ‘Come unto me,’ He means He knows the way out and He knows the way up. … He knows the way because He is the way.”
Each of us can share Christ’s love with those around us who are feeling “poor in spirit.” From testifying to encouraging to simply wrapping our arms around them and saying, “Jesus loves you!,” we can find many ways to share His love with those who desperately need reminding.
Each of us can invite others, say hello to them, pray for them, search for them, and share Christ’s love with those who struggle. This work of ministering can unite us all with bonds of charity as we do Christ’s work among our brothers and sisters.
The author lives in Utah.

Taking care of my physical and spiritual health made a large difference during the past 10 months. There were days, especially at the beginning, where I had no appetite. We were so blessed by the women of our ward who brought meals, so my family ate and I was presented with an easy solution to ensure I ate. Sleep was also very important so I was rested enough to deal with the stresses of the week. Spiritually, I was blessed to have friends and family watch our son so I could go to the temple. I remember the first time I went after the accident. My husband was in the ICU and unconscious. Two people I knew were at the temple that day. They were just the right people. I have returned to the temple almost weekly throughout this trial. It is a place of strength and healing. Attending reminds me to pray for the strength to carry the burdens that I encounter throughout the week, and God listens and answers those prayers. It gives me a wonderfully peaceful place to plead for the needs of my husband in his recovery.

“Before the big dam was built near Hyrum, there was an open place called ‘the holler.’ That’s where my Grandfather Wilson had his pastures. One of the grandchildren’s duties was to take the cows down to pasture every morning. Nearby was a stream where we fished and swam. The ‘holler’ was located between Hyrum and the town of Paradise. The holler was truly a paradise for us kids. We’d get together there with our cousins and swim, fish, hunt, and play all day long. Toward evening we would get the cows and lead them back home to be milked.”

Walking to church wasn’t the only regular trek Paulo made in exercising his faith. Twice a year he traveled 530 kilometers (330 mi) to attend the São Paulo Brazil Temple. On one of those temple trips he was introduced to Rita de Cássia de Oliveira, who worked in the temple. Odete Lustoza, wife of President Lustoza, had previously met Rita at the temple and had encouraged Paulo to write to her.
Rita was accustomed to life in a big city, and she enjoyed her friends and the blessings of being a member of a ward with a nearby chapel. But after a long-distance courtship that resulted in her marriage to Paulo in the São Paulo temple in 2003, Rita joined him on the farm.
She has adjusted to farm life and is thankful for the blessing of a temple marriage. “The hardest part was finding a husband,” she said. “The rest I can adapt to.”

Our son-in-law Jeff recalls that through some of his teenage years, there were times he saw the commandments of God as restrictive, and he was like the kite that would cut its string at every opportunity. At that point in his life, obedience was a challenge. He would obey at times largely out of duty to his family or when motivated by fear of punishment. He says he didn't feel a love for the Savior--that he did not really know Him. Fortunately, through the influence of those around him, including his parents and a Young Men adviser, he was obedient enough that the Spirit could touch him with some understanding and desire to do good. Line upon line, he slowly progressed and became converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Jeff remembers: "Looking back 30 years later, I can see that I have been caught up in a virtuous cycle of obeying and receiving light and knowledge, which causes me to want to obey more. I see in my own life the truth that President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught: 'We come to see obedience not as a punishment but as a liberating path to our divine destiny. And gradually, the corruption, dust, and limitations of this earth begin to fall away. Eventually, the priceless, eternal spirit of the heavenly being within us is revealed, and a radiance of goodness becomes our nature.'"[18]