Gospel Story Finder

I didn’t notice her at first. She was merely a part of the sea of people milling about the reception hall. Then she stepped forward and, struggling for the right English words, pointed to her heart and said, “When you sing, you have a love.”

I looked into her red, tear-swollen eyes and smiled the warmest “Thank you” I could muster. I couldn’t speak. My heart was in my throat.

Looking around the hall, I could see that the other members of the BYU A Cappella Choir were having similar experiences. We were at Kibbutz Chatzerim in the middle of Israel’s Negev Desert. The love of the gospel of Jesus Christ expressed through song had bridged the gap of culture, language, and religion to touch the hearts of these people. It was our first concert in Israel and the beginning of a tour that, through music, would take the message of the Restoration to thousands of Jewish people.

When Saints from Manaus prepared to make their first trip to the temple in Caracas, they were so happy they declared, “Now it takes us only 40 hours to get to the temple!” To get to Caracas, the Saints had to endure a 1,000-mile (1,600-km) bus ride that included traveling through unsettled parts of the Amazon jungle and changing from a larger bus to a smaller bus at Brazil’s border with Venezuela. The distance was shorter, but the trip still required substantial monetary sacrifice, with the added expense of obtaining passports.

As the Saints embarked, they sang, “Rise, Ye Saints, and Temples Enter.”1 To maintain reverence and stay focused on the purpose of their trip, they held firesides on the bus and watched Church movies such as The Mountain of the Lord.

In a journal compiled by those who were part of that first trip, Church members recalled their blessings, not their sacrifices. One sister wrote: “Today I am going to the temple for the first time. Yesterday I celebrated my 20th anniversary as a member of the Church—so many hours, days, and years of waiting and preparing. My heart is full of gratitude and happiness for my friends, priesthood leaders, and especially Jesus Christ, His Atonement, and this opportunity to go to the house of my Heavenly Father.”

A brother who was sealed to his wife and children on that trip said the temple gave him a glimpse of eternity. “I have no doubt that if we keep the covenants we make in the temple, we will have a happier and more abundant life,” he wrote. “I love my family, and I will do all I can to have them with me in the celestial kingdom.”

This past March, our second daughter, Emma, like many missionaries in the Church, went into mandatory isolation. Many missionaries came home. Many missionaries awaited reassignment. Many did not receive their temple blessings before departing to a field of labor. Thank you, elders and sisters. We love you.
Emma and her companion in the Netherlands were stretched in those first several weeks—stretched to tears in many instances. With only brief opportunities for in-person interaction and limited outdoor exposure, Emma’s reliance on God increased. We prayed with her online and asked how we could help. She asked us to connect with friends she was teaching online!
Our family began to connect online, one by one, with Emma’s friends in the Netherlands. We invited them to join our weekly, online, extended-family Come, Follow Me study. Floor, Laura, Renske, Freek, Benjamin, Stal, and Muhammad all have become our friends. Some of our friends from the Netherlands have entered “in at the strait gate” (3 Nephi 14:13). Others are being shown “the straitness of the path, and the narrowness of the gate, by which they should enter” (2 Nephi 31:9). They are our brothers and sisters in Christ. Each week we “count it all joy” as we work together in our progress on the covenant path.

As I sat restlessly in sacrament meeting one Sunday afternoon listening to a returned missionary speak, I entertained myself by watching two children play peek-a-boo across the back of the bench. Sunday meetings seemed a meaningless ritual. None of my friends went to church or observed the Sabbath, and I sat there grumpy, determined to be miserable.
Then I casually looked over my right shoulder and saw my parents with tears in their eyes. I looked around the room and noticed that many others had tear-stained cheeks. As I turned my attention back to the recently returned elder, I heard him say, “… and I know that my Father lives.”
That was a statement I had heard many times, especially in sacrament meetings. I had always asked myself, How could they possibly know that there is a God? The thought occurred again, and as the closing prayer was said, I felt a little guilty for my thoughts.
Later that evening my family sat down together for family scripture study. We were in the 30th chapter of Alma, and my older brother Jim was reading about the anti-Christ Korihor telling Alma there was no God. In verses 43–44, he read, “And now Korihor said unto Alma: If thou wilt show me a sign, that I may be convinced that there is a God, yea, show unto me that he hath power, and then will I be convinced of the truth of thy words.
“But Alma said unto him: … The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it.” [Alma 30:43–44]
That night I lay very still and pondered the words of Alma. I thought about all the creations on the earth, about the flowers and the trees and the animals—and about me. How magnificent the creation of the human body is! I lay there thinking a very long time until the words of a song I had learned in Primary entered my head: “Whenever I touch a velvet rose or walk by our lilac tree, I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world Heavenly Father created for me.”
Tears fell down my face, and I said a prayer to Father in Heaven asking his forgiveness and thanking him for the beautiful world he created for me. I know now that my Father lives.

Across the ocean in Clay County, Missouri, Michael Arthur, another great-great-great grandfather who was not a member of the Church, also had a choice: persecute the Mormons or help the Mormons. He chose to give jobs to Lyman Wright, Wilford Woodruff, and others and offered the use of a cabin on his farm where Joseph Smith disbanded Zion’s Camp and organized a stake. Michael Arthur also wrote to the newspapers and spoke passionately against the persecution of the Saints in Missouri.

The organ music was playing softly as Johnny followed his dad, mom, and little sister into the chapel. He stuck his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to give Kevin a friendly poke as he walked past. Johnny had learned from an earlier experience that this was not the time or place for greeting a friend that way.
His family quietly filed into the fifth row where they customarily sat. As Johnny sat there, he ran his fingers along the crease of his new pants. It was hard to pay attention to the man at the pulpit. He was just talking to the grown-ups, anyway.
Johnny began thinking about his birthday. Soon he would be eight years old. In three weeks he would be baptized. He had talked to Dad about it last night.
“When you have been baptized, Johnny,” Dad had told him, “all the things you do wrong will be your responsibility.” Dad talked to him about how the Holy Ghost would help him make good decisions so that he would do the right things.
Dad also talked to him about the importance of the sacrament and the reverent feelings he should have. “Now that you’re old enough to be a member of the Church, you’re also old enough to try to be more reverent at church and to know about the blessings of the sacrament. It’s important for your thoughts to be reverent too. The sacrament reminds us of the promises we make at baptism.”
Johnny didn’t understand how his thoughts could be reverent. His teacher had talked about being reverent during sacrament meeting, and she seemed to think that Johnny knew just how to do it. Maybe it means just being quiet, Johnny decided. I’ll try sitting here as quietly as I can and see if I feel different while the sacrament is being passed.
He sat there quietly for a while, his legs dangling over the seat of the pew. Then his toes started to feel funny. He began swinging his legs back and forth. He swung them harder and harder until he was making a kicking sound against the bottom of the bench.
“Shh!” his mom whispered. “Johnny, be reverent!”
Johnny thought he was being reverent—he hadn’t been talking. I guess being reverent means you don’t kick your feet—even if your toes feel funny, he decided.
Johnny sat very quietly. He was trying to feel reverent during the sacrament, but all he felt was tired from sitting on that big, hard pew. He saw Brother Willey sitting in front of him. He was an older man with large glasses. The glasses had thick lenses. If Johnny wiggled up onto the edge of his seat and Brother Willey held his head just right, Johnny could look right through his glasses. They made everything look funny. Ricky, Johnny’s friend, looked fuzzy, as if he were underwater. Johnny moved around so he could see how Brother Willey’s glasses made other things look.
“Stop wiggling, Johnny. Be reverent,” his mom whispered.
Johnny had forgotten about being reverent. He slid back against the hard bench. He tried to get comfortable so that he could sit quietly and be reverent.
Then he noticed a man with a mustache sitting next to his Primary teacher. As Johnny watched, the man fell asleep. Then the most remarkable thing happened. Each time the man breathed out, his mustache wiggled, just like the wind was blowing it. Johnny had never seen anything quite like it. The longer he watched, the funnier it looked to him. All of a sudden, the man made a long, soft, whistling noise. His whole mustache looked like it jumped. Johnny started to giggle.
“Shh! Don’t giggle, Johnny! Try to be reverent.”
Johnny turned the other way so that he couldn’t see the sleeping man. As he turned, he noticed the speaker standing at the microphone. It’s Brother Curtis, our home teacher, Johnny thought. He listened to Brother Curtis.
Brother Curtis was talking about when the Savior died. Johnny remembered the picture that his Primary teacher had shown the class of Jesus hanging on a cross. There were nails through his hands and feet, and blood—
Blood! That reminded Johnny of the day the previous week when he was trying to ride his new bike. He had fallen from it onto a sharp rock and cut his knee. Blood had streamed down his leg and onto his pants. Boy, it sure hurt! Johnny thought, pulling up his pant leg. His knee still looked pretty bad, even with a bandage on it.
Johnny sat there very quietly. He thought about how it would feel to have someone pound a nail through his hand. Why would Jesus let those men hurt Him like that? he wondered.
“I know the Savior suffered, bled, and died because He loves us so much,” Brother Curtis was saying. “And when we partake of the sacrament, we promise to always remember Him.”
Jesus really must have loved me to die for me, Johnny thought. When I ate the bread and drank the water during the sacrament, it was in remembrance of His body and blood. Suddenly it was almost as if Jesus was sitting there beside him on the pew. Is this the reverent feeling that Mom, Dad, and my teacher were talking about? Johnny remembered a song he liked to sing in Primary: “This is God’s house, and he is here today. He hears each song of praise and listens when we pray.”
When Sister Watene offered the closing prayer, Johnny folded his arms and bowed his head and listened carefully.
Next week, he promised himself, after adding his “Amen” with the other members’, I’m going to be reverent all during sacrament meeting. I won’t talk, or wiggle, or giggle, or kick my feet. And during the sacrament, I’ll think about Jesus and try to feel Him close to me again.

Many years ago I worked for a railroad. I was in charge of what is called head-end traffic. One morning I received a call from my counterpart in Newark, New Jersey. He said, “Train number such-and-such has arrived, but it has no baggage car. Somewhere, 300 passengers have lost their baggage, and they are mad.”
I went immediately to work to find out where it may have gone. I found it had been properly loaded and properly trained in Oakland, California. It had been moved to St. Louis. But some thoughtless switchman in the St. Louis yards moved a small piece of steel just three inches, a switch point, then pulled the lever to uncouple the car. We discovered that a baggage car that belonged in Newark, New Jersey, was in fact in New Orleans, Louisiana—1,500 miles from its destination. Just the three-inch movement of the switch in the St. Louis yard by a careless employee had started it on the wrong track, and the distance from its true destination increased dramatically. That is the way it is with our lives. Instead of following a steady course, we are pulled by some mistaken idea in another direction. The movement away from our original destination may be ever so small, but, if continued, that very small movement becomes a great gap and we find ourselves far from where we intended to go.

Shortly after Edward was born, Mary Ann moved with her children to Salt Lake City and took work as a midwife, cook, and cleaning woman. Since her meager income could not support the needs of her family, Edward left school when he was twelve and went to work on the night shift at the Salt Lake Tribune.
A few months later Mary Ann had saved five dollars from Edward’s earnings for tithing. “Eddy,” she told him, “I have not paid your tithing yet. I know that you have no overcoat, and you must walk many miles to and from work each might. With winter coming on, it’s going to be bitter cold when you return home at four or five o’clock in the morning. So I’ll give you this money, and you can either pay your tithing or buy an overcoat. I’ll leave the decision up to you.”
He did exactly what she knew he’d do. Edward later recorded, “I took the money, ran immediately over to the bishop’s home, and paid the tithing.”
A week later his Aunt Mary came to visit, and brought with her an overcoat that one of her sons had outgrown. It fit Edward perfectly and “was a better overcoat than [he] could have purchased for five dollars.” After that day, Edward recorded, he was always generous in paying his tithes and other Church offerings.

It happens almost every Sunday evening. After church and after the dinner dishes are washed, nine-year-old Xinia (pronounced ZEEN-ya) gets out a pencil and several sheets of lined paper and starts writing her letters.
She sits at the kitchen table, absorbed with her writing. Sometimes she’ll look up to ask someone how to spell a word or to say something she remembers about the person she is writing to. But during most of her letter-writing time, she seems to be in her own world—or in the world of the person who is lucky enough to get her letter.
Who is she writing to? “The missionaries,” she answers with a smile. The letter she is working on now is for Elder Ed McCoy, a close friend of the family, who is serving a mission in California. Ed is the only member of his family who belongs to the Church, and Xinia makes sure that he gets at least one letter every week—hers.
“He used to come to our house for Sunday dinner,” she says. After he left for his mission, Sunday evening just didn’t seem complete without visiting with Ed—even if only through a letter. Before long, she started writing letters to the other missionaries, too. Now Xinia writes a letter nearly every Sunday evening to all six missionaries from Belize City. Sometimes she also writes to missionaries who served in Belize and have now returned to their homes. Every Monday morning, her mother mails a stack of Xinia’s letters to places such as Honduras, England, Canada, and the United States.

During the time I was a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, I was called to be president of the quorum. With the urging and assistance of a dedicated and inspired quorum adviser, I worked diligently to ensure that each of the young men attended our meetings regularly. Two of them were a particular challenge, but with our perseverance and love and a little persuasion, they began to attend meetings and participate in quorum activities. However, as time passed and they left the ward to pursue education and employment, each of them drifted back into inactivity.
Over the years I have seen each of these two dear friends at various functions. Whenever I do, I place a hand on their shoulder and remind them, “I’m still your quorum president, and I won’t let go. You mean so much to me, and I want you to enjoy the blessings which come with activity in the Church.” They know I love them and that I’ll never ever give up on them.

I recently visited with a woman who has been battling a life-threatening disease for over two years. She indicated that prior to her illness, her days were filled with activities such as cleaning her house to perfection and filling it with beautiful furnishings. She visited her hairdresser twice a week and spent money and time each month adding to her wardrobe. Her grandchildren were invited to visit infrequently, for she was always concerned that what she considered her precious possessions might be broken or otherwise ruined by tiny and careless hands.

And then she received the shocking news that her mortal life was in jeopardy and that she might have very limited time left here. She said that at the moment she heard the doctor’s diagnosis, she knew immediately that she would spend whatever time she had remaining with her family and friends and with the gospel at the center of her life, for these represented what was most precious to her.

One of the amazing legacies of this campus is the hundreds of employees and the thousands of students who are guided here by direct intervention of the Lord. Their stories read like something out of scripture, miraculous, compelling. For many years BYU-Hawaii was considered by some as a dead end to a university teacher's academic career. It was seen as a nice place, but hardly a serious institution that would advance one to the top of one's profession. The special mission of this school and the spirit of God have brought some of the finest people in the Church to serve and teach in this place.
Bruce Bowen, former Dean of Admissions wrote that the thought of taking a position at BYU-Hawaii turned his wife Debbie's world upside down. They had just moved into a brand new home they had built. Debbie had just delivered their eighth child. The thought of moving the entire family to a island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was overwhelming, crazy. But once the idea was deposited, like the seed of faith, it grew and swelled and filled their minds and hearts. He says "It seemed that [once the seed was planted] everywhere we went we met someone who had lived in Hawaii or heard someone speaking about Hawaii or saw something that reminded us of Hawaii, we couldn't get away from it. Bit by bit our hearts were softened as the Lord's will was made known. When we came to the campus for interviews, we had another witness of the spirit while touring the Polynesian Cultural Center. . We moved to Hawaii in June of that year and embarked on the most wonderful experience of our lives . . . we are not the same people that we were before moving to Hawaii, and we will forever be grateful for the way our hearts and lives have been touched by the spirit of aloha." Bruce Bowen is now the Dean of Admissions at Weber State University.

In 1962, Elder Harold B. Lee, then a member of the Council of the Twelve, used a very practical modern example of that principle. “It is sometimes very interesting to get the reaction of people,” he observed. “I recall when President McKay announced to the Church that the First Council of Seventy were being ordained high priests in order to extend their usefulness and to give them authority to act when no other General Authority could be present. I went down to Phoenix, Arizona, and I found a Seventy who was very much disturbed. He said to me, ‘Didn’t the Prophet Joseph Smith say that this was contrary to the order of heaven to name high priests as presidents of the First Council of Seventy when they were named in the beginning?’
“And I said, ‘Well, I had understood that he did, but had you ever thought that what was contrary to the order of heaven in 1840 might not be contrary to the order of heaven in 1960?’ You see, he had not thought of that. He … was following a dead prophet, and he was forgetting that there is a living prophet today. Hence the importance of our stressing the word ‘living.’” (“The Place of the Living Prophet, Seer, and Revelator,” address given to Seminary and Institute Faculty at BYU on July, 1964.)

As a young boy of five or six years of age, I had a powerful experience with prayer. My grandfather, who was not very old at the time, was very ill—feverish, ashen, and almost unconscious. It was a real crisis for our family. He lay in a bed that had been set up for him in his living room, and many of our family members, as well as our stake patriarch, knelt in a circle around his bedside to pray for him.

Although I was the only child in the room, I was invited to be in that prayer circle. Each member of the circle took a turn saying a prayer out loud. Then I, as the youngest one there, was called upon to pray last. I had participated in family prayer, the blessing on the food, bedtime prayers, and the other prayers that children say, but I had never experienced prayer like this before. People were crying, and everyone was anxious and concerned. It all seemed awfully important and urgent and somewhat frightening.

As a result of these prayers, my grandfather’s health was restored. The patriarch later told me that he felt my grandfather had been healed primarily because of my prayer. I have never forgotten that experience. Because I was so frightened at the responsibility to pray in such a setting, prayer took on a deeper meaning for me.

Who could forget the story of Abram and Zimri, brothers who worked side by side in the field? Abram had a wife and seven sons, and Zimri had none. When harvest time came, they divided the harvest equally; but that night, as Abram sat in his house, he thought, “I have a wife and seven sons, and Zimri has none. It isn’t fair that we divide the harvest equally.” So he slipped out into the night, removed a generous third of the sheaves from his harvest, and placed them on Zimri’s pile. Then he went back to his home and sat by the fire with seven sons.

As Zimri sat alone by his fire in his home, he thought, “It isn’t fair that we share alike. My brother Abram has seven sons and a wife, and I have none.” And so he slipped out into the night, carefully removed a generous third of the sheaves from his harvest, and he placed them on Abram’s pile. Then he returned to his home.

The next morning, when they went out to the fields, both brothers noticed that the harvests were exactly as they had been the day before, and neither one of them could understand. So that night again, after it got dark, Abram crept out into the night and repeated his work of the night before. This time he went to a nearby ditch, crouched down in it, and waited. In a few moments, he saw his brother Zimri come out of his home and begin to remove a generous third of the sheaves from his harvest. Jumping up from his hiding place, Abram ran to his brother and fell on his neck and kissed him, his joy so full he could not speak.

However as many of you know our family has also received another type of blessing. Recently our little grandson Jack was diagnosed with a rare chromosomal deletion affecting his development and making everything about his care challenging. On the surface level this may not seem like a miracle that we have prayed for. But we do feel that Heavenly Father is blessing us with so many little miracles to help us.
There have been clinical mercies like finding just the right home therapist and like having the national family support conference held right in their home town. Aside from such temporal blessings, we have felt spiritual blessings. Jack’s sweet personality is touching the heart of each member of our family. Teenage grandchildren who may struggle to get outside their own feelings of inadequacy, forget themselves as they serve Jack and are in return blessed by him. I am sure he has special purposes for being sent to our family, in teaching us about faith, endurance, and God’s perfect love.
Even though we know of God’s love and blessings, meeting Jack’s needs on a daily basis is a struggle. On one particular day I was praying that my daughter would feel angels attending her that day. I knew that she needed that strength. Later in the week I talked to my daughter, and I asked her how that hard day had gone for her. She said that nothing miraculous had happened, except that she had felt almost an uncanny strength to get through it. I stopped her and said, “That was the miracle—not necessarily what you had expected, but just what you needed—an uncanny ability to just make it through.”
As with Becky, I felt that angels were attending her and I knew that the day of miracles has not ceased.

We learn of the dedication which was given to the seminary program in its very beginning by reading from a diary of John M. Whitaker, one of the early instructors of the seminary program. In April of 1915 he was employed as an instructor in the Granite Seminary with a salary of $1,500 per year. He found little to work with as he assumed his new position. His diary records:
“I had to start without the least scratch, or outline, and I thought out many approaches to the new problem before me. I had taught several years at the University of Deseret. But there I knew my course well, but to commence a course now, where here-to-fore the Bible alone had been the guide, and to meet the need of the hour when students of the age coming into high school and junior work, with strict outlines and supervision, with everything before them and now coming from the discipline of high school requirements, into religion class work where they could come if they desired or remain away, … but to take religion which was frowned down upon during the week days, only for Sundays, was a task too great to undertake alone. So I did as I have always done when presented with a task, went in humility and prayer to my Father in Heaven and in my simplicity told him my problem and asked for inspiration, guidance, wisdom and courage for the task before me. … I was unknown to most of the Faculty and students of the Granite High and so during the summer I thought out how best to make a beginning.”
He became enthusiastic about the beginning of the year in teaching at Granite High School and looked forward to registration day, on September 3, 1915. A crowd of students was on hand, and his journal entry describes the event: “Commenced a very important period of my life and one that will, I am sure affect the destiny of thousands of the youth of Zion, if the plans maturing in my mind blossom into fruition” (quoted in Lyman Clarence Pedersen Jr., “John Mills Whitaker: Diarist, Educator, Churchman” [master’s thesis, University of Utah, 1960], 167).
His diary records events step-by-step which led to the tremendous success he had in carrying forward this program over the years. Significant is the statement of the late S. Dilworth Young, one of the Seventy, who was one of Brother Whitaker’s earliest seminary students: “Had Elder A. Theodore Tuttle been clairvoyant, he would have seen in the year 1914 a fourteen-and-a-half-year-old stripling entering the first seminary instituted by the Church. Across the street from Granite High School a building had been constructed—one room in size—a teacher employed, and the school opened to students. I was that stripling. There died yesterday the third teacher of that particular seminary. The teacher was John M. Whitaker.
“I should like to make a short tribute to Brother Whitaker. He likely did not know the profound influence he had upon me as a boy, as I studied minutely under him and Guy C. Wilson before him, the detail of the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the Doctrine and Covenants. I look back upon it now, realizing that there was where I got my first detailed knowledge of these standard works. Could I have enough influence I would see to it that every boy and every girl in the Church had a like experience under a man of faith” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1960, 80).
The service of John M. Whitaker is an example of thousands of instructors who over the years have devoted their lives to building testimonies in hundreds of thousands of young people who have availed themselves of the opportunity of taking advantage of seminary classes.

Some years ago a young Primary boy was on a train going to California in the days when we traveled on trains. He was all alone. He sat near the window watching the telephone poles go by. Across the aisle from him was a gentleman who also was going to California. The attention of the gentleman was called to this very young boy traveling all alone without friends or relatives. He was neatly dressed and well-behaved. And this gentleman was quite impressed with him.
Finally, after some time, the gentleman crossed the aisle and sat down by the young man and said to him, “Hello, young man, where are you going?”
He said, “I am going to Los Angeles.”
“Do you have relatives there?”
The boy said, “I have some relatives there. I am going to visit my grandparents. They will meet me at the station, and I will stay with them a few days during the school vacation.
The next questions were “Where did you come from?” and “Where do you live?”
And the boy said, “Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“Oh, then,” said the gentleman, “you must be a Mormon.”
And the boy said, “Yes, I am.” There was pride in his voice.
The gentleman said, “Well, that’s interesting. I’ve wondered about the Mormons and what they believe. I’ve been through their beautiful city; I’ve noticed the beautiful buildings, the treelined streets, the lovely homes, the beautiful rose and flower gardens, but I’ve never stopped to find out what makes them as they are. I wish I knew what they believe.”
And the boy said to him, “Well, sir, I can tell you what they believe. ‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’” (A of F 1:1.)
The businessman was a bit surprised but listened intently, and the boy continued, “‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.’” (A of F 1:2.)
And the traveling companion thought, “This is rather unusual for a mere boy to know these important things.”
The boy went on: “‘We believe that through the Atonement of Christ, all mankind may be saved, by obedience to the laws and ordinances of the Gospel.’” (A of F 1:3.) And the gentleman was amazed at the knowledge and understanding of a mere boy—he was yet to be a Scout. But he continued and gave the fourth Article of Faith and said, “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
“That is wonderful,” said the gentleman. “I am amazed that you know so well the doctrines of your church. I commend you.”
With a good start and with encouragement, Johnny continued. “‘We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands, by those who are in authority to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.’” (A of F 1:5.)
“That’s very solid doctrine, my boy,” the gentleman said. “I am curious now to know how they get called of God. I can understand how they would receive the call and be established with the laying on of hands, but I wonder who has the authority to preach the gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.”
They discussed the matter of calling and sustaining and laying on of hands. Then the lad said, “Would you like to know more?”
The gentleman thought that was very unusual for a boy in these tender years to know what the Church taught, and he said, “Yes, go on.”
So Johnny quoted, “‘We believe in the same organization that existed in the Primitive Church, viz., apostles, prophets, pastors, teachers, evangelists, etc.’” (A of F 1:6.)
That brought some other discussion. “You mean that your church has apostles such as James and John and Peter and Paul, and prophets such as Moses, Abraham, Isaac, and Daniel, and also evangelists?”
And the boy responded quickly, “Yes, even evangelists. We call them patriarchs, and they are appointed in all parts of the Church where there are stakes. And by inspiration they give to all the members of the Church, as required, what is called a patriarchal blessing. I have already had my patriarchal blessing, and I read it frequently. Now we have twelve apostles who have the same calling and the same authority as given to the apostles in the days of old.”
The gentleman came back with these questions: “Do you speak in tongues? Do you believe in revelations and prophecies?”
And the boy brightened up as he quoted, “‘We believe in the gift of tongues, prophecy, revelation, visions, healing, interpretation of tongues, etc.’” (A of F 1:7.)
The gentleman gasped. “This sounds like you believe in the Bible!”
And the boy repeated again, “We do. ‘We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God.’” (A of F 1:8.)
The gentleman discerned that we believe both in the scriptures and in revelation. And the boy quoted, “‘We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.’” (A of F 1:9.) And then he continued, “‘We believe [also] in the literal gathering of Israel and in the restoration of the Ten Tribes; that Zion will be built upon this [the American] continent; that Christ will reign personally upon the earth; and, that the earth will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal glory.’” (A of F 1:10.)
The gentleman was listening intently. He showed no interest in crossing the aisle back to his own seat. Then Johnny came in again. He said, “‘We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.’” (A of F 1:11.) He then continued, “‘We believe in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, and magistrates, in obeying, honoring, and sustaining the law.’” (A of F 1:12.)
And then as a final contribution, the boy repeated the thirteenth Article of Faith. “‘We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.’”
This youngster relaxed now as he finished the Articles of Faith. The gentleman was clearly excited, not only at the ability of this young boy to outline the whole program of the Church, but at the very completeness of its doctrine.
He said, “You know, after I have been to Los Angeles a couple of days, I expect to go back to New York where my office is. I am going to wire my company that I will be a day or two late and that I am going to stop in Salt Lake City en route home and go to the information bureau there and hear all the things, in more detail, about what you have told me.”
I am wondering how many of you know the Articles of Faith. How many of you big men, as well as the little men? Do you know them? Have you repeated them? You are always prepared with a sermon when you know the Articles of Faith. And they are basic, aren’t they? I would think it would be a wonderful thing if all the boys, as they learn them, would learn them word perfect. That means that you don’t miss and you don’t forget.
Shall I tell you how I did it? I think I have told you before, but I used to milk cows. I typed with two fingers, and I would type out these Articles of Faith on little cards and put them down in the corral right by me when I sat on the one-legged stool and milked the cows. And I repeated them over, I guess 20 million times. I don’t know. But at any rate, I have claimed that I could say the Articles of Faith now after these many, many years and could say them word-perfect. And I think it has been most valuable to me. Will you do that, my fine young men?

When I went to youth conference one year, I had no idea of the impact it would have on me. We had three days packed full of fun activities, and I was excited to see old friends, meet new ones, and get involved. But my favorite part was the testimony meeting. The Spirit was strong as we bore our testimonies of the gospel, and many of us were moved to tears. For me this beautiful feeling lasted for days after the conference, and I wanted it to stay. I didn’t even watch TV or listen to non-Church music. This experience truly strengthened my testimony of the Church.
The Spirit is the only way for us to know the Church is true. We must do things to allow the Holy Ghost to be with us, like studying the scriptures, praying sincerely every day, and thinking of times when we have felt the Spirit. When we live with the Spirit, we can feel His warmth and know the Church is true. I love the gospel; it has answers and direction. I wish that everyone in the world could know what we know.
Tahnee H., age 20, South Australia

Vasily is a child who spends much of his time in the streets and is not supported by his parents in his search for truth. He found a small branch of the Church in his town, and he came to every event held at the church. He also brought his three younger brothers to church, and other friends joined him in Primary. In fact, at one time, the largest Primary in that area was made up of these little boys who are not members of the Church. They were drawn to the truth, and the light of the gospel began to be reflected in their faces. They were welcomed, protected, taught, and loved by all the members of that little branch, including youth, young adults, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood leaders. Think of the children in your neighborhood or Primary class. Who are the children in your branch or ward? Is there one, like Vasily, who needs you?