Gospel Story Finder

Girls in the Walnut Creek California East Stake shared a faith-promoting experience when they were asked to participate in the search for a three-year-old boy lost not far from their stake girls’ camp.
The girls divided into teams and searched until dark, but the boy was not found. Searchers did fin his footprints, however, and the girls fasted and prayed throughout the night that the boy would be found. They felt their prayers were answered when the night remained warm and clear and searchers found the boy the next morning.
Afterward, 150 girls and leaders tied and signed a quilt for the boy and reflected on the test of faith they had endured. All agreed that they had learned a lot about relying on an already full reservoir of faith rather than trying to develop faith in a time of crisis. They won’t forget that girls’ camp or that lesson very soon.

Rick Cartier, a former seminary student, now serving in the Brisbane Australia Mission, talks about his love of the scriptures. He says, “There were three of us in the branch that were really good friends. At times, either my friends or I went astray, but what kept bringing me back to the scriptures were two things: my testimony and caring leaders like our seminary teacher. It was love that kept bringing me back. And that’s what the scriptures are about, our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ’s love for us.” Rick and his friends are all serving full-time missions, the most missionaries the Charlottetown Branch has had out serving at the same time. They are a little like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, excited that they are all strong in the faith and teaching others.

I received my patriarchal blessing as a young woman and was counseled to prepare myself with a good education and to learn early in life those virtues that go into homemaking and rearing a family. I so wanted the blessing of a family; however, that blessing wasn’t fulfilled until I was 37, when I eventually married. My husband had been widowed, so the day we were sealed in the temple, I was suddenly blessed with not only a husband but a family of four children.

Long before that, there were many days when I felt like I was skiing in flat light, asking the question, “What does the future hold for me?” I tried to follow the admonitions in my patriarchal blessing. I studied diligently to become a schoolteacher and continued my education to become an elementary school principal. I prayed to my Heavenly Father and sought the guidance of the Holy Ghost. I held fervently to the promise of prophets who assured me that if I “remain true and faithful, keep [my] covenants, serve God, and love [my] Father in Heaven and the Lord Jesus Christ, [I] will not be denied any of the eternal blessings our Heavenly Father has for His faithful children.”

I know that my education prepared me for a life that has been nothing like I had envisioned as a young woman. I thought I was studying education to teach school and my future children, but I did not know the Lord was also preparing me to teach English in Mongolia on a mission with my husband and to teach the young women of the Church throughout the world and to teach my grandchildren the value of knowledge—all wonderful blessings I could never have imagined.

Katie Lewis is my neighbor. Her older brother, Jimmie, is battling leukemia. But like the faithful Latter-day Saints they are, the Lewises turned to God with urgency and with faith and with hope. They fasted and prayed, prayed and fasted. And they went again and again to the temple.
One day Sister Lewis came home from a temple session weary and worried. As she entered her home, four-year-old Katie ran up to her with love in her eyes and a crumpled sheaf [stack] of papers in her hand. Holding the papers out to her mother, she said enthusiastically, “Mommy, do you know what these are?”
Sister Lewis smiled through her sorrow and said, “No, Katie. I don’t know what they are. Please tell me.”
“They are the scriptures,” Katie beamed back, “and do you know what they say?”
Sister Lewis knelt down to her level and said, “Tell me, Katie. What do the scriptures say?”
“They say, ‘Trust Jesus.’”
Sister Lewis said that as she stood back up, she felt arms of peace encircle her weary soul and a divine stillness calm her troubled heart.

Sister Linda K. Burton told the story of a family who moved into a new house. The yard didn’t have a fence around it. The father put stakes in the corners of the yard and tied strings around the stakes to mark the edge of the yard. He told his five children that if they stayed inside the boundaries, they would be safe. The children listened to their dad, even when a ball rolled past the string! They were safe and happy.

September had come, and autumn was just around the corner. The leaves of the poplar and cottonwood trees had changed from green to golden yellow. The grass that grew beside the road had turned to rusty brown. And Malan had turned eight.
The day of Malan’s baptism finally arrived. He had learned about baptism in Primary and during family home evenings, and he had thought about the event for a long time. Using his own new copies of the scriptures, he and his dad had read about the baptism of Jesus (Matt. 3:13–17). Now he could be a member of record of the Church, like his mom and dad and the bishop and the boys who passed the sacrament. If he always tried to do the right thing, his baptism would enable him to “enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:5), and that’s where he and Dad decided they wanted the whole family to be. Malan closed his eyes and listened to the hum of the car’s tires on the pavement as the car carried them to the Parkland Ward meetinghouse.
In a few minutes he and his sister, Ginger, his mom, Aunt Marcia and Uncle Scott, his cousins Jenny and Coral, and his Grandma and Grandpa would be there. His dad was already there, running water into the font and making sure that the white clothes were ready.
It seemed to Malan that time was dragging. The streets of the city were crammed with cars, and every red light seemed to refuse to turn green. A lane ahead was blocked because a truck had tipped over and spilled its load of wood.
Malan peered anxiously out the car window. A man was frantically directing the traffic and casting unhappy glances at his overturned truck. Behind him, driving along the ditch, was a police car with its red and blue lights flashing.
“Don’t worry,” Malan’s mom said, turning around and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “We’ll be there in time.”
Malan sighed with relief when they finally pulled up in front of the large red brick building. He was so eager to get inside that he almost forgot how important it was to walk quietly and be reverent in the Lord’s house.
He saw his dad, dressed all in white, coming to meet him. But something was wrong! Dad knelt down; his kind blue eyes were concerned. “You have a decision to make, Son,” his dad said, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I’ve run the water for a long time, and it appears that the hot water heater is broken. The water in the font is very cold. Do you want to be baptized in cold water or wait until next week?”
Malan stood for a long moment and wondered what to do. Behind him he could hear his Grandpa talking, and the excited voices of his small cousins. Through the chapel window he could see the yellow-clad branch of a tall poplar tree as it scratched gently against the pane.
“Were you baptized in a river, Dad?” he asked.
His dad smiled. “Yes, I was baptized in the Moose Jaw River.”
“Was it cold?”
“Only for a few moments.”
Malan lifted his chin and hoped that his dad wouldn’t notice his trembling body. “I want to be baptized today. I don’t mind if the water is cold.”
Malan was uneasy as he changed into his white clothing. And although he tried to sit quietly through his Grandpa’s prayer and his mother’s talk about Jesus, Malan’s legs insisted upon swinging and his stomach had a big knot in it.
Finally it was time! As Malan stepped into the icy water, his knees shook and he wanted to run back through the halls and out to the shelter of the car. Then his dad’s strong hands reached for his. “Are you ready?”
Malan nodded. He listened to the prayer, then pinched his nose as the icy water swept over his head. When he stood up, he gasped for air and splashed to the stairs of the font. As he moved toward the dressing room, his body shook and his teeth chattered, but he hardly noticed. Inside he was filled with a golden warmth, like the autumn leaves outside.

Strong families and an active seminary program have produced enthusiastic and willing Latter-day Saint youth in Brooklyn. But according to Randy Dow, a native of Maine who has worked with the youth for years, “A few years ago, we started seminary with only a couple of students. One of the problems was that parents didn’t want their children out late at night.” Private cars are rare in Brooklyn, but rides were organized, and activities later followed the weekly classes. Now seminary is held on Friday nights—the unanimous choice of the youth.

Our Sunday School lesson on keeping the Sabbath day holy had gone well—until somebody mentioned television.
As people chimed in with their opinions regarding whether watching television on Sunday was appropriate, some class members became prescriptive. Before long, other class members became offended. The Spirit, which at first had accompanied our discussion, was replaced by a palpable tension.
Observing the growing discord, Kenneth Payne, a member of our stake presidency, asked to speak. He stood and began telling us about his son Brian, who had served in the Japan Tokyo North Mission. When President Payne and his family greeted Brian at the airport upon his return from his mission in March 2003, he complained of a stiff, sore jaw. Within weeks, Brian was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
A month later he began a regimen of chemotherapy and then radiation. President Payne said doctors had planned a bone-marrow transplant for September 22, but just after the first of that month, “Brian began having difficulty.”
He was hospitalized the second week of September. By then, because of the cancer’s aggressive nature, doctors determined that it was too late for a transplant. The family brought Brian home from the hospital on September 21. He passed away the next morning.
“September 22 is a special day for my family and me,” said President Payne. “On that day we slow down and think about Brian, his contributions to our family, and how he gave the last two years of his life to the Lord and to the Japanese people, whom he loved. We miss him, and on that day we reflect upon his life and honor his memory.”
For all of us, President Payne said, Sunday is a day to slow down and remember.
“We take time out to attend our Church meetings, partake of the sacrament, sorrow for our sins, and ponder the Savior’s suffering on our behalf,” he said. “We serve, we love, and we try not to be distracted by activities that would prevent us from worshipping Him.”
President Payne said that if Sunday activities are in keeping with that spirit, then we can feel right as we engage in them. But if they distract us from remembering the Savior and ministering on the Sabbath as He would minister, then perhaps we should reconsider our choice.
He then sat down and said no more. He didn’t need to. The Spirit had returned to the classroom, and we were all listening.

In Alaska, LDS teenagers who live in the towns of Wasilla, Palmer, and Eagle River look at the Anchorage Alaska Temple and know that something of theirs is safe inside. They were fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time to make a promise, sign their names to it, then have those pledges sealed inside the cornerstone of the temple at the dedication.
The promise they signed was quite short. It said simply: “As I prepare for marriage and a mission, I will live the standards of worthiness for entrance into the house of the Lord.” It was a promise that many of them were willing to make, but now that the promise is literally encased in stone in the temple and sealed with mortar, these young people have taken it very seriously.
“This was a goal I had previously made,” says Katie Green of the Eagle River Second Ward, “but had never put on paper. When I was given the opportunity to do so, I jumped at it. I didn’t just sign it; I pondered it. To me a promise is a promise and cannot be broken, especially with our Father in Heaven. Living the standards of worthiness doesn’t mean just not crossing the line. It means that we must live as far away from that line as possible.”
For Amie Uscola of the Wasilla First Ward, making a promise like this one is very personal. “Having my name in the cornerstone of the temple is like an agreement on a personal basis with the Lord. It is like a possession of His, and if you broke it, it is more personal. I actually do think about it every time I come here.”
These teens are thrilled to have a temple so close to their hometowns. Before the Anchorage Alaska Temple was built, these teens only rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to travel to a temple. The trips were expensive and often a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Now they have many more opportunities to do baptisms and to go through the temple for their own endowments before leaving on missions or being married. Ryan Rampton of the Eagle River Second Ward said, “With something as sacred as doing temple ordinances, now I won’t have to go to another state. I can do it in the place I grew up. That actually means a lot to me.”
Having signed a pledge that is now permanently in the temple’s cornerstone makes coming to the temple even better. “The feelings I get whenever I enter the temple,” says ShaLene Grover of the Palmer First Ward, “make the desires of my heart stronger to be a better person. This makes a difference in my life, to always be worthy to go to the temple, so I can always feel the peace I feel when going there.”
Just exactly what can these teens do to keep the promise they signed?
Katie Green’s friends know she has standards that she lives. They even know about the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet that outlines and explains just what those standards are. And they like it that when they are with Katie, they have a friend who will help them be a little bit better instead of a little bit worse.
Attending Church meetings and seminary makes it easier. Christy Kendall of the Eagle River First Ward explained how she received an answer as to how she was supposed to act. “It was a lesson when I was a Mia Maid that said you need to make a decision now so that when evil things confront you, you will have a definite answer ready. From then on, For the Strength of Youth became my handbook. It wasn’t just words to me because now I knew that was how I needed to act. Those were my answers that I needed to say when confronted.”
And staying worthy of a temple recommend also prepares these young people to serve the Lord. “The promise I made with my Heavenly Father,” says Austin Wallace of the Eagle River Second Ward, “has influenced my life. I strive to live worthy to enter the temple. I know that if I am temple worthy I am also mission worthy.”
Austin has always followed the good examples set by his friends. He says, “My friends are still the people I look up to. Their testimonies shine through me because I’ve emulated them in all they’ve done.” Austin’s best friend is serving a full-time mission, and Austin is preparing to serve also. “I’ve just loved the Church so much. Now that I’ve seen the choices my friends have made, it’s part of my own personal choice to do the same.”
The Anchorage Alaska Temple is not large, but its light-gray granite walls catch the light. It’s easy to see from one of the main highways. Tim Miner of the Palmer First Ward sees the temple when he has to go that way to get to work. And he remembers his promise.
And Tisha Harman of the Wasilla Second Ward remembers her pledge. She even remembers where her name was among the dozens of other signatures on the sheet.
Dené Christensen of the Eagle River Second Ward says, “When you really think about it, having your name sealed in a cornerstone in the house of the Lord is just amazing. You don’t want to do anything wrong. You don’t want to tarnish or damage any part of that temple. Then I remember that my name’s in there.”
Even though these teens were the right age and at the right place to sign a pledge to remain worthy to enter the temple, Emerson Fry of the Palmer Second Ward reminds us all, “Whether or not you sign a paper, I hope that everyone makes the same promise to themselves and to God.”
“We committed ourselves to our Heavenly Father, that if He would send us to the earth and give us bodies and give to us the priceless opportunities that earth life afforded, we would keep our lives clean and would marry in the holy temple and would rear a family and teach them righteousness. This was a solemn oath, a solemn promise” (Salt Lake Institute of Religion Devotional, 10 Jan. 1975, 2).—President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985)
“Signing this promise was simply a unique way of recommitting ourselves on a more personal level, much like renewing covenants every Sunday in sacrament meeting. This promise offered me a new chance to recommit myself to the standards I may have faltered in obeying. It redefined the covenants I’ve made and gave me renewed purpose to become prepared to enter the temple, go on my mission, and get married.”—Ryan Rampton, 16, Eagle River Second Ward, Wasilla Alaska Stake
“I was able to sign the pledge that is placed in the cornerstone of the temple. By signing I was able to make a promise that I will always be worthy to enter the temple. Just to think that one day I will be able to enter the temple knowing that I have been worthy brings me joy and happiness.”—Crystal Eriksson, 17, Wasilla Second Ward, Wasilla Alaska Stake

“Once, when I was about seven years old, Mother gave me a dollar bill and asked me to go to Joe Wood’s market to buy a pound of hamburger. As Joe Wood put the hamburger on the counter, I put my hand in my pocket for the money—but the dollar bill was gone! I just panicked. I said to him, ‘I’ll have to come back later,’ then ran out of the store and retraced my steps, looking for the money. I couldn’t find it. I got all the way back home without finding it.
“I couldn’t face Mother and tell her I’d lost the dollar, so I ducked under the kitchen window and went around to the coal shed. I knelt down on the ground and told Heavenly Father that I just had to find that money. Then I crawled back under the window and went down the street again. There in the parking lot I found the dollar! Gratefully, I picked it up and went into the store to pay Joe Wood his money and get the hamburger.

This past summer my wife and I were again blessed to be with President and Sister Kimball and other General Authorities and their wives at area conferences in Scandinavia and Europe. Following the closing session in Copenhagen, Denmark, we all visited a cathedral referred to as the Dome. Within this great edifice are the best-loved works of Denmark’s greatest sculptor, Bertel Thorvaldsen—his original Christus and the Twelve Apostles. The imposing statue of Christ stands in an alcove at the front of the cathedral beyond an altar. Standing in order along the two sides of the cathedral are the lifelike statues of the apostles, with Paul replacing the betrayer Judas Iscariot. As we looked at those beautiful works of art we noted that Peter was sculptured with large keys in his hands; John is holding scriptures. Others of the Twelve are shown with identifying symbols indicating, for example, the manner in which they earned a living or how they were martyred. President Kimball thoughtfully studied each statue.
As we were ready to leave the cathedral, the Danish caretaker, a man about sixty years of age, was standing near the door awaiting our departure. President Kimball shook his hand, thanked him for his kindness in letting us visit the cathedral. Then the president began an explanation of the church established by Jesus Christ and of its importance to us. All those present gathered near to be taught by the prophet.
He began in simple words which went something like this: “My dear friend, the man who created these statues was surely inspired of the Lord. The beauty and majesty of the Christus are wonderful. While Thorvaldsen was doing his work here, in 1821 to 1844 Joseph Smith was doing his work in America. Thorvaldsen didn’t have the gospel as did Joseph Smith, but he had the Spirit. He must have been inspired to create these statues of Christ and the apostles. He was trying to bring them to life.”
Gathering President Tanner, Elder Monson, and Elder Packer closer to him, the president continued, “We are living apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. There are Twelve Apostles and three others who are the presidency of the Church. We hold the real keys, as Peter did, and we use them every day. They are in use constantly.” Then the president introduced me. “This is a real, live seventy,” he said. “You will recall that the Savior called His Twelve Apostles and His seventy. He sent the seventy two by two before His face into every city into which He Himself should come to prepare the way before Him. We can give you the true gospel of Jesus Christ.”
What a thrilling spiritual feeling to hear the prophet bear witness of his own calling and to have so graphically illustrated the importance of living apostles. As beautifully and masterfully done as the statues were, they were only marble and could do no more than remind us of the real priesthood leaders which they represented. How blessed we all felt to be present with a living prophet and apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. Brethren, we must be more than “marble.” We must follow the prophet’s lead and become “living examples” of Christ—bearers—living carriers of His message of salvation to those about us.

Christmas that year was a memorable one. I took the bus to Saigon, where the members met together for the first time in ten years in Viet Nam. The meeting was in a park. There were nearly one hundred people there. We had ice cream and cake. Later, at our table, brethren holding the priesthood broke bread and poured water into small glasses for the sacrament. We bowed our heads and prayed silently. Our joy was full.

—The lights were already blazing at the famous Lincoln Center in Manhattan, but their glow was a little brighter when reflected in the eyes of the young women who had been doing service projects in New York that day.
Young women in the Manhattan Spanish Ward spent the day helping at a crafts fair and celebration to benefit a facility that assists women dealing with AIDS. The girls decorated hand towels, handed out fliers, and helped cook lunch. They not only provided service but were educated as well. “Now that we understand about the virus, we will not brush these people off,” says Karina Mora. “We know how to help people and not be afraid.”

I met Karla my first semester at Snow College in the small town of Ephraim, Utah. We got along immediately, friends at first sight. We didn’t have any of the same classes, but we spent time together almost daily. We were walking back to her dorm one night, cutting in between the tall trees as we crossed campus. I was expressing my desire to go see a movie that was currently being shown in the local theater.
“Isn’t that rated R?” she asked.
I thought about it. “I think so, but I hear it’s only for a couple parts. No big deal really.”
She looked at me, “Do you smoke?” she asked.
“Of course not!” I laughed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Why don’t you smoke?” she persisted.
That was an easy answer. “Word of Wisdom, bad for your health, smelly breath, yellow teeth, cancer, the General Authorities say not to.” I spouted off a list of reasons.
“The prophets say not to.”
“Right, I said that.”
“Well, they also say not to watch movies like that, right?”
A light clicked on in my mind. I couldn’t deny that. The long-term effects of submitting yourself to immoral entertainment could be just as detrimental to your spiritual health as smoking is to your physical health.
I decided I would not go see that movie.

At that time the nearest temple was in Mesa, Arizona, in the United States. It was difficult to make such an expensive trip. Later, when my father was called as district president, the mission president asked him, “Well, what are you planning to do?”
“We are going to the temple,” my father answered. He organized a group of about 100 people who traveled together to the Mesa Arizona Temple. Our family was sealed, and we all felt my mother’s presence. We knew she had accepted the gospel.

When I tell you that I played football in high school, it is not a boast. It is more of a confession.
You see, football came to our country town later than to most. The school board had no money for equipment or for a coach. Instead, we all played basketball. The only equipment we needed for basketball was a pair of shoes.
Finally, our principal saved enough to buy 12 inexpensive football outfits, not including shoes. The cleated shoes were too expensive, so we used our basketball shoes instead. Our coach was recruited from the faculty. He was selected because he had once watched a football game.
We learned a few simple plays. We learned how to tackle—or so we thought. Then we set off for our first game with Twin Falls, the previous year’s Idaho state champions.
We dressed and went out to the field to warm up. The other team’s school band started to play. They had more students in the band than we had in our entire high school! Then through the gates came their team. Our team of 12—a full team of 11 plus one all-around substitute—watched in amazement as they kept coming through the gates, all 39 of them in full uniform.
The game was most interesting. To say it was a learning experience is rather mild. After two plays we didn’t have any desire to have the ball, so we would kick it away, and soon they would score. Our main problem was how to get rid of the ball. It was less punishing for us when we weren’t being tackled!
In the final minutes of the game, the other team became a little reckless. A wild pass fell into the arms of Clifford Lee, who was playing halfback with me. He was startled. He didn’t know what to do until he saw the entire opposing team thundering toward him. Then he knew what to do! He was not interested in six points. He ran for his life!
He was fast. He made a touchdown, and we finally got six points on the board. We really didn’t deserve the six points, but with our torn shirts and socks and bloody shins, we took them anyway. The final score: 106 to 6!
That game was definitely a learning experience. It taught me that a team (or an individual) must be prepared. Success in all things depends on preparation.

My brother and I are a year and a half apart. For the past four years, insults between us have outnumbered the praises and expressions of love. He is beginning to see himself as the person I described to him through my insults. I now see that he lacks confidence in himself. I can’t change what I’ve said, and I may have lost a wonderful brother. I can ask for forgiveness, but tearing down the wall between us is much harder. Before you belittle someone with your insults, think about what you risk losing eternally.
Name Withheld

I recently represented the Church at the annual G20 Interfaith Forum in Italy. I was encouraged, even buoyed up, when I met with government and faith leaders from around the world. I realized wounds and differences can be resolved and even healed when we honor God, the Father of us all, and Jesus Christ, His Son. The Great Healer of all is our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I had an interesting moment as I closed my talk. The previous seven speakers had not closed in any manner of a faith tradition or in the name of God. As I spoke, I thought, “Do I just say thank you and sit down, or do I close ‘in the name of Jesus Christ’?” I remembered who I was, and I knew the Lord would have me say His name to conclude my message. So I did. Looking back, it was my opportunity to express my belief; and I had the freedom of religion to bear my witness of His holy name.

I received permission from my dear friend and emeritus General Authority Seventy, Elder Robert E. Wells, now 97 years old, to share his experience of more than 60 years ago:
While living in Paraguay in 1960 and employed as an international banker, Robert Wells, then 32 years old, and his wife, Meryl, were each a pilot in two different planes, flying home from Uruguay to Paraguay. Encountering thick clouds, Robert and Meryl lost visual and radio contact with each other. Robert quickly landed, where he learned his wife’s plane had crashed. Neither his wife nor the two friends flying with her had survived. His children, at home in Asunción, were ages seven, five, and two.
Elder Wells spoke of his grief:
“Words will forever be inadequate in expressing the pain that swelled within me, consuming my emotions and numbing my senses. Profound tears of sorrow simply wouldn’t stop flowing. To make matters worse, as my mind was attempting to deal with the devastating realization of my wife’s passing, I found myself experiencing tremendous guilt for feeling I was responsible for the crash.”
Robert blamed himself for not having had the plane inspected more thoroughly and for not giving his wife better instrument flying instructions. He felt he was guilty of neglect.
Robert said:
“My mind went into a dark daze. … I simply existed—[for the sake of the children,] nothing more.”
“I … lost my desire to continue on.”
In time, Robert was blessed with a deeply spiritual experience. He recounted:
“One evening, about one year later, while on my knees in prayer, a miracle occurred. While praying and pleading to my Heavenly Father, I felt as though the Savior came to my side and I heard an audible voice speaking these words to my soul and to my ears: ‘Robert, my atoning sacrifice paid for your sins and your mistakes. Your wife forgives you. Your friends forgive you. I will lift your burden. …’
“From that moment, the burden of guilt [and despair] was amazingly lifted from me. I had been rescued! I immediately understood the encompassing power of the Savior’s Atonement and … that it applied directly to me. … I … experienced light and joy like I had never before known. … I had been given an unearned gift—the Lord’s gift of grace. … I didn’t deserve it—I had done nothing to merit it, but He gave it to me nonetheless.”

At one time in his life, President Grant encountered some severe financial reverses, and in his words, “I was just $91,000 worse off than nothing.”
He was called to open and preside over a mission in Japan, and he was given one year to prepare and put his affairs in order prior to his departure.
After the meeting in which he was called, a fellow apostle told Heber J. Grant that the president of the Church would never have called him if he had known of his difficult financial situation. President Grant agreed. At that moment President Grant put himself completely in the hands of the Lord, and every morning his prayer, in essence, was: “Please help me today to do something to help me get out of debt.” Within the year’s time, all of his creditors had been paid. He was not only completely out of debt but had sufficient to sustain himself in the mission field.