Gospel Story Finder

I remember many times, it seemed like almost every week, that four little towheaded boys would stand with their faces against the windowpane or against the screen door and wave goodbye to their mother and dad as they would get in the car and go to the temple in Mesa.
We didn’t know much about the temple, and we didn’t know much about what went on in the temple, but we had been taught without any reservation that Mother and Dad loved us and that they would do anything for us. So, as we stood there and watched them go, we knew that something important must go on in that temple, to have these two people who loved us more than anything leave us as often as they did to go there. We gained an understanding in those tender years of the importance of the temple.

The after-school job. It can range from scooping ice cream to mowing lawns, and at one time or another, most people have one to earn spending money, or save for a mission or college education. But two teenagers in Logan, Utah, have found that monetary gain is not the only reward for working hard.
Using the local community center in Logan, Lynette and Nicole Sieger teach dance lessons to nearly 80 students each week—at no cost. That’s right, Lynette and Nicole put in long hours every week teaching, choreographing, and explaining for free.
“This job takes lots of patience, but I love it,” says 16-year-old Nicole, who teaches three or four ballet classes each afternoon. “I absolutely love dance,” she says.
Thirteen-year-old Lynette echoes those sentiments by saying, “I really love little kids. They’re just a lot of fun to be around.”
Both sisters also teach love and affection while they instruct their students on the finer points of tap and ballet. While one gives help and instruction, the other is never far away, holding a child on her lap or whispering words of encouragement.
The sisters learned to dance in Texas, where they lived until just a few years ago. When they moved to Logan, they taught the free classes as an audition for a teaching job at another dancing school. When the job fell through, the sisters decided to continue teaching their classes anyway, at no cost to the students.
“I think you really have to be disciplined to do it,” says Lynette. “But it really is worth it to pass along something to people who may not otherwise get the chance.”
Nicole sums up her feelings by saying, “I couldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was important. Helping others create something of beauty is one of the most important things I can do.”

I remember my father stretched out by the fireplace, reading the scriptures and other good books, and I would stretch out by his side. I remember the cards he would keep in his shirt pocket with quotes of the scriptures and Shakespeare and new words that he would memorize and learn. I remember the gospel questions and discussions at the dinner table. I remember the many times my father took me to visit the elderly—how we would stop by to pick up ice cream for one or a chicken dinner for another or his final handshake with some money enclosed. I remember the good feeling and the desire to be like him.

I have known persons who began their academic studies with great momentum, but as time went by did not continue to invest the time they needed in their studies because they supposed they had developed such great faith that if they simply did their church work the Lord would bless them to achieve their academic objectives. In this way the supposed strength of their faith became the cause of their academic downfall. We might say to them as the Lord said to Oliver Cowdery when he failed in his efforts to translate:

Behold, it is because that you did not continue as you commenced. . . .
. . . You have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.
But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right. [D&C 9:5, 7–8]

Here the Lord counsels us on balance. Faith is vital, but it must be accompanied by the personal work appropriate to the task. Only then do we qualify for the blessing. The appropriate approach for students is to study as if everything depended upon them and then to pray and exercise faith as if everything depended upon the Lord.

Not long ago, my wife and I attended a choral concert at BYU. At intermission, I stood to stretch my legs and the young man standing next to me said, “You look like you're a smart person.” Now (pause), before I continue, you should know, that I have no idea what could have possibly given him that impression. But whatever it was—I wish I knew—because I would repeat it as often as possible. It was what he said next, however, that cemented this memory in my mind. “Can you predict the future?” he asked. “What an unusual question to ask a complete stranger,” I thought to myself. This is not the fare for the usual intermission chit-chat—at least, not for me—so I assumed that he must be joking. I half-chuckled as I said, “I wish I could, wouldn’t that be nice?” It was immediately clear that this young man was not joking, for his smile faded, he grew quiet, and his demeanor darkened just a bit. “I’m sorry,” is all I could offer. He turned, muttered that he was going to get a drink of water, and left the auditorium. “That was strange,” I thought again. Just as intermission was ending and the lights were dimming, this young man returned to his seat and quietly sat down beside me. The curtains raised and the concert began again. I don’t think I heard a single note from the rest of the concert. All I could think about was this young man. Something was obviously weighing on him and my mind raced. Was he in trouble? Why was he so worried? Why was the future weighing so heavily upon him? Oh, I longed to be smarter so I could help in some way. Oh, how I wished I could predict the future.

Thoughts like these—and much, much more rattled around in my brain during the post-intermission concert. I then recalled worrying about my future when I was his age and felt the need to reach out to him somehow. I wondered if I should fold my program into a Cootie Catcher and reveal this young man’s future after the show. Perhaps I should give him some advice or tell him something that I had learned from my own experience that may prove helpful. With this in mind, I thought of Elder Boyd K. Packer once saying, “Young men speak of the future because they have no past, and old men speak of the past because they have no future.” “Oh no,” I thought, “my desire to speak of my past experiences confirms that I am an old man!” None-the-less, I knew I had to say something more to that young man before he left. Maybe I was feeling what Elder Jeffrey R. Holland once expressed, “We who have already walked that portion of life’s path that you are now on try to call back to you something of what we have learned. We shout encouragement. We try to warn of pitfalls or perils along the way. Where possible we try to walk with you and keep you close to our side.”

As soon as the concert finished and as the house lights came up, I quickly turned to this young man before he could stand. I gently grabbed his arm and looked him straight in the eyes. “While I cannot predict what your future will be like,” I said quietly, “it is possible for you to predict what YOU will be like in the future.” I handed him my program and said, as I pointed to the scribblings that I had written on the front cover, “Give it some thought,” I said. I stood, smiled, shook his hand, and said, “Trust me. This really helps.” I turned and left the concert.

I hope that he read what I had written on my program. I sincerely and earnestly hope that he gave it some thought. What did I write? I wrote, “Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things will work together for your good, if ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another.” (D&C 90:24). You should know, that I had underlined the conditional part of this scripture starting with “IF.” The underlined portion read, “IF ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another.”

During my second year of college, I worked at the university library as a student assistant. One day in December I was assigned to work with another student assistant. I had never met him before, so as we worked I tried to strike up a conversation. We talked about school, work, and our families.
Later in the afternoon he started to sing songs that mentioned God. I asked him about his religion. I hoped he would ask me the same thing so I could talk to him about the Church, and he did. I was so excited, because this was a great missionary opportunity. With a big smile, I told him I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He looked surprised and, in a not-very-pleasant tone of voice, replied, “The Mormons? You’re a Mormon? Those people don’t believe in Jesus Christ.”
His words were hard for me to hear. Whatever I was expecting, it certainly wasn’t to hear that I didn’t believe in Jesus Christ. I had heard stories like this, but now it was happening to me. What should I say? How could I respond to such a remark? The only thing that came to mind was, “But it’s the Church of Jesus Christ!”
I knew I had to repeat in my mind the Young Women motto—“Stand for Truth and Righteousness”—and put it into action. But how?
I proceeded to tell the other assistant that our church is the Church of Jesus Christ, that we believed in Him as our Savior, and that I understood the love He has for God’s children. I expressed from the depths of my soul that I believed in Jesus Christ, that I was a member of His Church, and that I had been taught to love Him and to follow His example.
My coworker did not want to listen anymore. He responded reproachfully to the things I said even while I kept trying to explain. He also talked about the Book of Mormon in the same manner as he had spoken about the Church. I could tell he didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to listen to what he was saying either because he was trying to contend with me. I knew I shouldn’t go on explaining, so I bore my testimony. I told him that I knew everything I was saying was true. I could feel it in my heart.
As I left the library, I wondered how anyone could possibly talk about the Church that way. I thought about what I had felt as I testified to him and wondered if I should have allowed him to express himself the way he did. I felt anger and fear and thought of things I could have said. I felt frustrated and doubted my own level of spirituality because he had not changed his mind. Had I failed?
On the way home, I prayed. I wanted to get rid of my negative thoughts. I wanted to feel sure of what I had been taught my whole life, and I wanted to feel that Heavenly Father was pleased with me for what I had done. Prayer was the best tool I had. Prayer and the Holy Ghost had helped me know what to say and how to testify to my coworker, and they also helped me to know that my Heavenly Father was pleased with me.
This experience helped me to know with a greater certainty that this is the true Church of Jesus Christ and that, just as He was persecuted, so is His Church. I learned the importance of having a firm testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and His Church.

Another diligent member is Talma “John” Bastian. Born in Haiti, Brother Bastian was introduced to the gospel by his friend Antoine Ferrier. After reading two Church pamphlets, Talma asked his friend for more information. Brother Ferrier gave him some Church books, including A Marvelous Work and a Wonder by Elder LeGrand Richards. He read the books eagerly and was ready when the missionaries came to him. He now serves as elders quorum president in the Soldier Road Branch.

Henry Drummond, in his classic writing on the subject of Christ’s love, tells of a man who went to see a dying boy. He put his hand on the boy’s head to comfort him and said, “‘My boy, God loves you.’” The boy soon arose “from his bed, and called out to the people in the house, ‘God loves me! God loves me!’ One word! It changed that boy. The sense that God loved him overpowered him, melted him down, and began the creating of a new heart in him. And that is how the love of God melts down the unlovely heart in man, and begets in him the new creature, who is patient and humble and gentle and unselfish. And there is no other way to get it. There is no mystery about it. We love others, we love everybody, we love our enemies, because He first loved us.” (The Greatest Thing in the World, Old Tappon, N.J.: Fleming H. Revell Co., n.d., pp. 47–48.)

When I was a small child, I remember coming into my mother’s room and seeing her cry as she read a book. I had never seen her do this, and I asked what she was reading. She said it was a book about a man named Spencer W. Kimball, a prophet of God. She told me many wonderful things about what he had done with his life. From that moment on, I felt that a prophet was someone I could trust and love, especially if my mother felt that way. So when my Young Women leaders asked me to find a message in President Gordon B. Hinckley’s talk, I knew there would be one for me.
As I listened and read through the prophet’s talk, the personal message I found was that I needed to work on reading the scriptures and pondering and praying about them.
Every night, before I went to bed, I would read the scriptures. I would ponder and pray, asking my Father in Heaven if they were true. As I finished and climbed into bed, I felt a warm, tingly sensation through me. I knew my prayers were being answered. Through the week I found I was happier and more helpful. I did better in school. I found the time to study and remembered what I was taught. Usually my mother and I argue about things, but that week I found the patience to listen and understand her point of view, which is something that isn’t easy for me. I felt better about myself than I had in ages. I also noticed the Lord made more time for me to continue my scripture studies.
My testimony was strengthened. I felt worthier—all from reading the scriptures every night before going to bed.
I want to keep those same feelings for the rest of my life. I want to keep on getting those many blessings. And all these blessings had come to me from listening to President Hinckley. I want to have such a wonderful change come over me and become as close to Jesus and Heavenly Father as I do when I read my scriptures.
Young women all over the world, I challenge each of you to listen to the prophet and find something you can improve on, so you can receive the blessings when you follow his advice. I know it works. It is definitely worth it, because you receive so much more than you give. We will always be in debt to Heavenly Father. I know you will draw closer to our Father in Heaven and his Son, Jesus Christ, as you listen to the words of the prophet. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

An anonymous Church member wrote about the continuous heartache her brother caused her parents. He got involved in drugs. He resisted all efforts at control and discipline. He was deceitful and defiant. Unlike the prodigal, this errant son did not come home of his own accord. Instead he got caught by the police and was forced to face the consequences of his actions. For two years his parents supported Bill’s treatment program, which brought about his eventual recovery from drugs. In summary, Bill’s sister observed: “I think my parents are extraordinary. They never wavered in their love for Bill, though they disagreed with and even hated what he was doing to himself and to their family life. But they were committed enough to their family to support Bill in any way necessary to get him through the tough times and onto more solid ground. They practiced the deeper, more sensitive, and extensive gospel of Christ by loving one who had gone astray.”

Building relationships—as well as cutting down some unwanted trees—is in full swing where a third group of youth are stationed. Todd Swenson, age 17, is here, and he’s a little tired from pulling up roots and clearing leaves. But his attitude is not the least bit tiresome. “This is my first time doing anything like this, but I want to do it again. I think it makes the people we are helping feel that they have friends, that someone is looking out for them,” Todd says.
Ben Mullins, age 14, agrees. “I hope it makes them feel that Church members like to help other people. It also gives me a better attitude about serving.”
Besides, according to Heather Swenson, there’s not much better to do on a Saturday. “I can spare one Saturday. I’ve got a lot of time left in my life to help other people. I need to use that time well.”

“No. Mine!” Eli said loudly and pushed his little fist into my shoulder, hard. “Susie is my bear,” I shouted back. “Grandma gave her to me for my birthday!” I turned away from Eli so he could not grab the bear from me. Then I yelled for Mom.
“Susie, mine! No Hannah!” Eli told Mom with a frown.
“Hannah, I know Susie is your bear,” Mom said. “But Eli doesn’t understand. Could you at least let him hold her today, since it’s his birthday?”
That didn’t sound fair to me. When Susie was new, Eli was just a baby. I let him carry her around and sleep with her in his bed. Pretty soon Eli thought that Susie was his own special bear. He wouldn’t share her with me anymore—not ever.
“Mom, Eli is two years old now,” I said. “He should know how to take turns.”
“We’re going to have to think about this,” Mom said. Then she put Susie up high in the closet so we wouldn’t keep fighting.
That afternoon, when Eli was taking his nap, Mom and I had a good idea. “This means that when you want to play with Susie, you will have to ask Eli,” Mom reminded me.
“I know,” I said. Mom gave me a hug. Then we went down to the basement and found some tissue paper and a bag. Mom let me decorate the bag with markers. “This is going to be so fun for Eli,” I said.
When Eli woke up, we brought him into the living room. “Hannah has a special surprise for you, Eli,” Mom said.
I handed him the bag and he pulled out the tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag he found Susie.
“Susie. Hannah. Me!” Eli said. He smiled and laughed and did his happy dance. He hugged Susie again and again.
“Susie is your bear now,” I told him. “Happy birthday.”
That night Mom and I watched Eli fall asleep with Susie in his arms. Mom squeezed my hand and I felt warm inside. But I wondered how long it would be until Eli would let me play with Susie again.

My fourth and last suggestion to help us become strengthened by the hand of the Lord relates to temple worship. One summer I visited Nauvoo, Illinois, with my sister and her family. We walked down Parley Street along the Trail of Hope reading the testimonies of the faithful Saints who had left their beautiful city for the unknown. As we turned and looked up the bluff at the majestic Nauvoo Temple, I mentioned to my nine-year-old nephew, Justin, how sad it must have been for the Saints to leave this beautiful temple they had just built. Justin said to me, “I would take the temple with me.”
It is possible to take a piece of the temple with us each time we attend.

It was midnight when the wagon journey from Nauvoo ended. Joseph and his brethren entered Carthage, and his fate was sealed. His enemies had awaited their coming with great anxiety. The governor, who was present, persuaded the mob to disperse that night by promising them that they should have full satisfaction.

The next day, after a hearing, Joseph was released on bail, but re-arrested on a trumped-up charge of treason. Bail was refused and Joseph and Hyrum were placed in Carthage Jail.

The last night of Joseph’s life on earth he bore a powerful testimony, to the guards and others who assembled at the door of the jail, of the divinity of the Book of Mormon, also declaring that the gospel had been restored and the kingdom of God established on the earth. It was for this reason that he was incarcerated in prison, not for violating any law of God or man.

It was late at night when they tried to get some rest. At first Joseph and Hyrum occupied the only bed in the jail room, but a gunshot during the night and a disturbance led Joseph’s friends to insist that he take a place between two of them on the floor. They would protect him with their own bodies. Joseph asked Elder Markham to use his arm for a pillow while they conversed, then he turned to Elder Dan Jones, on the other side, and whispered, “Are you afraid to die?” And this staunch friend answered, “Has that time come, think you? Engaged in such a cause, I do not think death would have many terrors.”

Joseph replied, “You will yet see Wales, and fulfill the mission appointed you before you die” (HC 6:601).

My father, who died in an accident nearly thirty years ago, was such a man. Still today I meet people who say, “He was the kindest man I have ever known.” He worked in a steel mill—not the most glamorous or prestigious of occupations—and I am embarrassed to say that when I was young, I wished he were smarter, cooler, richer. Thankfully I’ve grown up since then, and today there is no one I admire more.

I doubt any of you have ever spent a day at a steel mill, but let’s just say that it is not the quietest or cleanest environment. Power, in that setting, is usually asserted through gruffness and crude language. And yet my father, in his more than three decades there, was never known to swear or to speak an unkind word. He never even raised his voice. After he died, his coworkers told us that they could always count on him to be pleasant and positive, regardless of the circumstances. We found curled up in his lunch box several Church pamphlets that he faithfully studied during his lunch break and often shared with his coworkers, many of whom became active in the Church because of his goodness and example.

That is fearless power. It is the kind of power that comes to those who trust God and have faith in Jesus Christ—faith to do things His way, even if it differs from the world’s way.

In these canyons, Mosiah, Lao Moy, and many other faithful Saints worked tirelessly to divide the boulders with hand drills, wedges, and low-power explosives. The rough blocks were then transported by oxteam—four yoke required for each block—and every trip was a difficult three- or four-day journey to the temple site some twenty miles away.
Mosiah touched Lao Moy’s shoulder and brought him out of his reverie. “I’m going to set off the blast, Lao Moy,” he cautioned, and then shouted a warning to the nearby workers. Mosiah lit the fuse and sprinted with Lao Moy for cover.
Two other workmen held a team of oxen. One of them was fourteen-year-old Corey Atwood. Corey, a tough, stout boy, had long taken pleasure in cruelly funning Lao Moy because of his broken English, his long queue (braid), and his quiet and obedient ways. It was often Corey who kept Lao Moy’s bitterness alive, but the Chinese boy had held it all inside, even when the troublesome Corey had once grabbed Lao Moy’s queue and threatened to cut it off with a knife.
The blast erupted like the sound of cannon fire over a Virginia cottonfield, and the big piece of granite split in two. Cheers went up, and Mosiah scrambled up the rocks to view his accomplishment. Lao Moy started up, too, but was soon held fast by Corey, who held onto his queue.
“What’s the matter, Lao Moy,” he chuckled, “somebody got your tail?”
Suddenly something exploded inside Lao Moy with no less force than Mosiah’s dynamite blast. He turned and struck Corey in the face so hard that the big boy was lifted off his feet and thrown backward in front of the team of oxen. The wide-eyed Atwood looked as surprised as Lao Moy. He wiped at the blood on his mouth and started to lift himself up when a clap of thunder suddenly boomed. As the already spooked oxen lurched forward, Lao Moy sprang for Corey and rolled him out of the path of pounding hooves and grinding wheels.
For a long moment the two boys just lay there, staring at each other. Finally, a smile broke across Corey’s dusty, blood-smeared face. Lao Moy smiled back, and all the old bitterness in his heart seemed to melt away like ice in a summer sun. A new peaceful feeling assured him it would not return.
Lao Moy was forty-five years old when the Salt Lake Temple was finally dedicated on April 6, 1893; Mosiah, seventy-six; and Corey Atwood, forty-seven. Corey sat close beside Lao Moy as President Wilford Woodruff offered the dedicatory prayer. A friendship had grown between them, a friendship as strong as the temple granite they had helped to cut. And like that granite, it would last forever.

One Saturday afternoon in September 1985, our family was enjoying a restful afternoon under the shade of a tree after a late lunch at our new home in Gigiri, Nairobi. We had moved there earlier that year and found that the garden needed much work. We did not have the money to hire a professional landscaping contractor, and so we made it a family project to do the work ourselves. As we had done on most Saturdays for several months, we spent much of the morning and early afternoon digging up the lawn to level it in preparation for planting new grass and flowers.
It was in this situation that, without prior appointment, two gentlemen walked in through the gate. One was an extended family member whom we knew well. He introduced his companion as an engineer who had recently returned from the US where he had gone to study.
That engineer and his family became new family friends. We learned that he was a member of a church which was not yet established in Kenya at that time. A short while later, Sister Sitati and I felt the desire to check on him after visiting a relative who lived in his neighborhood. Soon after we arrived at his home, the senior couple missionary—who later baptized us into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—walked in. After answering our curious questions, the couple invited us to attend church in their home the following Sunday. We accepted the invitation. The rest is history—we have attended church every Sunday since then.
Out of the normal and natural interactions of our lives, our family came to learn about and join the Church.

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.

From a missionary I received an unforgettable letter. He wrote: “I still am not certain why it was that I was [afflicted] with [cancer], particularly during the time I was serving the Lord on a mission, but I can say with all honesty and sincerity that I am eternally grateful to our gracious Heavenly Father for allowing me to have that experience. … Not a day goes by,” he continued, “that I don’t think about the days I spent lying in the hospital suffering through chemotherapy or grimacing with the pain from another operation. … Not a day passes when I don’t think of the days I spent studying the scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon, and remembering the overwhelming feelings of comfort and peace which I felt. I often think of the nights when I would retire to bed and pour out my soul to my Heavenly Father and thank Him for preserving my life.” Then the elder shared this wonderful news: “I returned to the doctor this week … and … he found no evidence of any disease in my body.” I love such faithful missionaries!

Adult leaders of the youth in the Hong Kong China Stake asked the youth council to choose their own service project. After the youth looked into their community’s needs, they decided to teach children from low-income families at a local school. Around 125 youth taught over 80 schoolchildren about developing talents, making healthy food, holding family gatherings, and creating true friendships.
“This was not just a one-time influence,” said Anita Shum, stake Young Women president. “What the youth have done with the kids could have a lasting effect.” She added that the youth now have good memories and experiences that will bless them forever.