Gospel Story Finder

In a recent meeting, I told of a dentist in my ward who each year visits the Philippine Islands to work his skills without compensation to provide corrective dentistry for children. Smiles are restored, spirits lifted, and futures enhanced. I did not know the daughter of this dentist was in the congregation to which I was speaking. At the conclusion of my remarks, she came forward and, with a broad smile of proper pride, said, “You have been speaking of my father. How I love him and what he is doing for children!”

Not me, though. I had only one question when it was my turn to walk up in front of everybody as they announced my name: was I actually going to graduate?

I wasn’t exactly what you’d call a scholar. Studying pretty much never topped my ideal to-do list. And during my senior year I was doing so poorly in one class I didn’t even know if I had passed the class. The final exam earlier that week would seal my fate, but grades wouldn’t post until a week later.

If I failed this class, I wouldn’t graduate high school.

In the end, I squeaked by on the thinnest possible margin and did graduate. (Whew!) At that point I had 14 months until I turned 19, the missionary age at the time. I intended on working during that time to save money for my mission. I knew I wasn’t much of a student, so under no circumstances did I plan on attempting college.

Fast-forward three and a half years from my high school graduation ceremony. I had worked for around a year and a half, served a two-year mission, and ultimately decided to try college after all.

I wish I could say I felt all grown-up and ready for school, but that’s laughable. I felt more intimidated than ever. If I was so bad at high school, how in the world could I handle college? This time I resolved to do my best and involve God along the way. I prayed fervently to develop new and better study skills.

To my complete shock, I ended up doing so well that semester that I qualified for academic scholarships. Nobody was more surprised than me! Even so, I could also easily look back over the previous months and see the hand of God helping me along as I learned to become a good student.

What I believed about myself back in high school simply wasn’t true. From that point on and with God’s help, I was able to forge a completely new path that carried me through college graduation and beyond.

Following two years of investigation into the Church, Brigham was baptized in a creek that flowed through a nearby woods. It was a bitterly cold day in April 1832. Those participating in the ceremony could hardly see because of a heavy snowfall. Seated on a log, his wet clothes freezing on him, Brigham was confirmed a member of the Church and ordained an elder. He later said, “As I sat there I felt the sweet spirit of the Holy Ghost witnessing that my sins were forgiven.” His wife Miriam was baptized a week later, just a few months before her death of tuberculosis. After her death, Brigham and Miriam’s two daughters, Elizabeth and Vilate, were taken into the home of Heber and Vilate Kimball.

This summer the older girls in our ward Primary went swimming at the local pool for activity day. Every girl came, and one brought a friend from another church. They were polite and courteous to each other and everyone around them. That alone would have made me proud, but the girls’ next actions were such that I’m sure Heavenly Father was proud, too.
A short while later, a man carrying a baby suddenly cried out, “I’ve lost my wedding ring!” With the baby in his arms, he could not find it by himself. Fortunately, he was standing near our girls. They instantly stopped playing and let the water settle. Within seconds, one of them spotted the ring and dove to get it for the man. He was very grateful.
Neither the woman nor the man asked to be taught by missionaries right then and there. But if they come into contact with the Church again, perhaps they will remember the examples set by the activity-day girls.

She was a young girl. She had sacrificed her worldly plans to spend long, tedious hours in work in order to provide for and raise her younger orphan brother; but now she lay on her bed, dying of a sickness. She called for her bishop, and as she talked to him in her last moments, he held her rough, hard, work-calloused hand in his. Then she asked the question, “How will God know that I am his?” Gently he raised her wrist and answered, “Show him your hands.”

My wife, Sue, and I have known a wonderful couple for the last four years. When we initially met them, the husband was a new member of the Church, and his wife was meeting with the missionaries to study the gospel. Many missionaries met with her to help her come unto Christ. We felt that she had a vibrant testimony of the gospel and knew that the Church was true. She felt the Spirit often during our visits and actively participated in all the meetings. She loved to interact with the wonderful members of the ward. However, she found it difficult to commit herself to enter the waters of baptism. One day she was reading Moroni 7:43–44, which reads:
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, [your] faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart.”
After reading these verses, she realized what she needed to do. She thought that she had understood the meaning of being meek and humble. However, her understanding was not sufficient enough to have faith and hope to obey the commandments of God. She had to let go of her stubbornness and her own wisdom. She started to humble herself through sincere repentance. She began to understand humility in the perspective of God’s eyes. She relied on Heavenly Father and prayed to soften her own heart. Through these prayers, she felt the Spirit witness to her that Heavenly Father wanted her to be baptized.
Both husband and wife shared that the more they became humble, the more they could understand the words of God, and their hearts were softened to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.

“He did not intend his last joke with her to turn out as it did. Just to tease her, he had been telling her before we came to the last canyon, Emigration, that her wagon was going to tip over, in fact, he knew it would. She said that if it did she would tell Brigham. And sure enough it did tip clear over and lifted on the bows. It was a very hard canyon for men to drive down. Riley was awfully surprised. He was only a boy and was terribly frightened. No one worked harder than he to get it righted. With the help of the men in the camp he got it up into the road which was very steep. It looked pretty dilapidated with the bows all smashed down, but did very little damage to the contents and since it was our last day before entering the Valley, he managed very well. Riley never heard whether she told Brigham Young or not.”

1 One day Tanner got a picture of Jesus. He loved the picture. He wanted to share it with somebody. He knew that not everybody knows about Jesus.
2 “Mom, can I give my picture of Jesus to somebody?” Tanner asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Who will you give it to?”
“I’m going to give it to my teacher, Mrs. Young. I like her because she reads me lots of stories.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.”
3 When Tanner got to preschool, he gave the picture to Mrs. Young. She was happy to get a picture of Jesus. Tanner was happy she liked it.
4 A few days later, Tanner and his family made a book that looked like the Book of Mormon golden plates. Then they wrote their testimonies in the book.
“Mom, can I take our book to school to show Mrs. Young?” Tanner asked.
“Yes, you can,” Mom said.
5 The next day at school, Tanner carried a backpack with his family’s golden plates inside. He told Mrs. Young about the book his family had made. Tanner’s teacher was very interested.
6 When Mom picked up Tanner from school that day, his teacher went to talk to Tanner’s mother.
“Tanner brought something very interesting today,” Mrs. Young said. “Can you tell me more?”
“How would you and your husband like to come to dinner at our house?” Mom asked. “We can talk more then.”
“That sounds great,” Mrs. Young said.
7 A few months later, Tanner and his mother went to Mr. and Mrs. Young’s baptism.
“I’m very happy I shared my picture of Jesus with my teacher,” Tanner said.
“I know that she is too,” Mom said. “You are a big reason why Mrs. Young and her husband are being baptized today.”
8 Tanner had a happy feeling as he watched Mrs. Young be baptized. He smiled as Mom leaned over and whispered, “Four-year-olds are great missionaries!”

Elder Kimball called on another occasion. “Bishop Monson,” he said, “I have learned that there are two Samoan boys living in a downtown hotel. They’re going to get in trouble. Will you make them members of your ward?”

I found these two boys at midnight sitting on the steps of the hotel playing ukuleles and singing. They became members of our ward. Eventually each of them married in the temple and served valiantly. Their influence for good was widespread.

“We didn’t have a lot of material things, but we were rich in the things that mattered. We didn’t have much land, but we squeezed everything onto it. We had chickens and cows and pigs. Raising pigs taught me how to work, and I learned about the law of the harvest. I also discovered that farmers have to work very hard to make money. After our pigs were sold and the cost of raising them was calculated, the profit on them was very little—sometimes nothing.”
Elder Maxwell won so many award ribbons for his prize pigs that when they were pinned to a blanket, they filled its entire surface. “I was proud of those ribbons,” he said. “And I still have that blanket.
“The part I didn’t like about farm work was that you were never through with it. If you milked cows or fed the animals in the morning, you knew that you had to do it again at night. Our turn to use the irrigation water for our crops would often come in the middle of the night. It was hard work, but it was good discipline.”

I lived with my father and family that winter and even attended school. Because of the love they showed me, the prejudices and the hate for Mormons I had grown up with began to fade. Late in the winter my father asked me if I’d thought about being baptized. I told him I didn’t know. He said I could do what I wanted, but that if I believed in the gospel he would like to see me baptized.

He told me that before he had left my mother and Aunt Emily, he had given my brother Isaac and me a blessing. While his hands were on my head he prophesied I would come to the valley of the mountains and afterwards return with my brother. He told me he wanted me to go back in the spring and get my brother Isaac.

Nothing more was said on the subject of baptism for several months, and then I was asked again if I had thought about it. I had felt the healing warmth of the gospel and of members of the Church. I knew it was right. I told my father I wanted to be baptized.

We went up to City Creek. The water was cold, iced over, but I didn’t notice it much. After the baptism my father confirmed me and set me apart for the mission of bringing my brother back.

When I arrived at my old home in May of 1863, my grandparents, brother, and friends were happy to see me. A few days after my arrival, my grandmother and most of the family went to visit some friends for the day. My grandfather was ill and couldn’t go with them. He asked me to stay with him while they were away.

When we were alone he started to ask me questions about my trip to Utah. He asked me if I’d seen my father. I told him I had. He said he was glad I’d seen him. He asked me if I’d been baptized, and I told him I had. To my surprise he also said he was glad for that.

“I have suffered you to be prejudiced towards the Mormons and your father.” He closed his eyes while he talked. “And now I feel it is my duty to remove that prejudice.

“I knew Heber C. Kimball was your father, and I knew he was a good man; but I didn’t want you to know it. I wanted you and Isaac to be the means for my support while I lived. It’s a hard thing to be old and sick. You’ve been to your father now. That’s the way it should be. I’ve been wrong.

“I know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and I know Brigham Young is his legal successor. I always did know it. The trouble with me was that I wanted to lead and could not be led. I’ve run my race and sealed my doom. I know what I’ve got to meet.”

My grandfather closed his eyes again and cleared his throat.

“I want you to go back to your father and take Isaac. I know that’s right. I want you to remain steadfast to the gospel, to Mormonism. Never, never yield that point; it will save and exhalt you in the kingdom of God.”

My grandfather wept like a child then.

After hearing the truth about our father, Isaac was willing to go back to Utah with me. We left just a few days after the talk I’d had with my grandfather. When we arrived in Salt Lake City, our father was very happy to see us. He welcomed us into his home, and we contentedly settled down there, feeling more loved and more at home than we had ever felt in our lives.

Elizabeth married a Chinese farmer, but he was also lured away by the gold rush and left her to raise their eight children with only her housekeeping and sewing skills. Times were difficult.

Although illiterate, Elizabeth knew the value of education and found creative ways to learn. She was determined to give her children more opportunities to elevate themselves than she had received. For example, she had her young sons read the daily newspaper to her, and they became good readers by the time they started school.

In my history class we were studying the Seven Years’ War and my teacher told us that we would watch a film. I was excited until she informed us that it was rated R. I knew that I didn’t want to see it. My teacher insisted it was not a bad movie, but I knew it still wasn’t right. I looked to see what the other kids would do, and I waited for someone to stand up and leave the room. In the end I was the only one who left.
Even though it was really hard, I’m glad I left. Many people have told me that they know what my standards are. I’m glad I didn’t lower them in order to watch the movie. My teacher apologized for challenging my standards and said from now on I won’t be pressured into watching R-rated movies in her classroom.

Another example of President Kimball’s discipleship occurred one Christmas Eve several years ago. He called and asked if I was busy. I quickly responded, “Not at all. What can I do for you, President Kimball?” He told me that he needed a companion to go with him to the Primary Children’s Medical Center to give blessings to several children from South America, as well as to some American Indian children.
Once there, we went from floor to floor giving blessings to them and to many others. I was deeply affected by the love of President Kimball and by his tender friendship with each child. He exemplified the tender, loving friendship that the Savior would give. It was easy to see how he could say, “The Savior is my friend.”

The bishop of a twelve-year-old confined to a wheel chair came to the boy’s home with a measuring tape. Since the young man was not able to walk or carry anything, this sensitive priesthood leader measured his wheelchair and made a wooden shelf that could hold a sacrament tray. Now ward members witness a beautiful example of charity in action each week as other priesthood holders take turns pushing his wheelchair so he can pass the sacred emblems to the congregation.

When the car was ready to go, we started on our way again, slowly, down the coast. A short time later we saw two young Mexican parents and their two toddlers standing next to a car with a mangled tire. Our opportunity to help had come sooner than I expected.
We spoke with them and offered to take them to their home a few miles down the road. They gratefully accepted and piled into the back seat.
Two dusty little hands plunged into our box of crackers as we bumped along that rocky dirt road in the Mexican desert. Now seven people were crammed into the minivan, along with a cooler, two surfboards, camping gear, and a pile of oily towels.
As the toddlers eagerly devoured the last cracker crumbs and we joked with their parents, I realized that this was what helping was all about. It didn’t matter how much it cost the man to give us the epoxy or how far out of our way we went to take the family home. We all knew we had done the right thing, and the feeling was worth more than anything in the world.

A mother of a son with special needs says: “When we moved to a new ward, I called the bishop to see if there was a class for Adam. I called back several times, but no one ever contacted me. My visiting teachers and home teachers began to ask why we weren’t attending. Again we asked if someone could help us with our problem. But as time went on and no one responded, we began to drift away from the Church. My husband and I were divorced, and I began to go to another church because they had a class each Sunday for special children. Anyone of any faith was welcome.”

Fortunately, this good woman later met and married a man who was contacted by the missionaries and joined the Church. The family moved to a new area where the leaders responded to the needs of the son, and the whole family has now been sealed in the temple.

After decades of living where members of the Church are a minority, my husband and I moved into a neighborhood in Rexburg, Idaho, USA, that contained only two nonmember families. It was our good fortune to live next to one of them.
The father was mowing his lawn the first time we drove into our driveway. My husband and I crossed our lawn to get acquainted. As I put out my hand, I asked, “So what brought your family to Rexburg?”
He replied, “My job—and we searched specifically for a town that needed to be introduced to Christ.”
I felt as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown in my face, but I smiled. I determined at that moment that no matter what our new neighbor said or did, we would become the best neighbors the family ever had. We would try to respond in every interaction with them in a kind, loving, and reasonable way, as the Savior would.
The following eight years brought many shared activities between our families. The mother was invited to and attended Relief Society activities. She invited me and many of our Latter-day Saint neighbors to a Christian women’s retreat sponsored by her church. My husband and I were invited to their children’s dance and piano recitals. Their family was included in neighborhood cookouts and parties. And we received calls from their older children when they needed rides home from work and couldn’t reach their parents.
The parents worried that their children might begin to like Latter-day Saints too much, so they didn’t let their sons join our ward Scouting program. But our home was considered a safe place, where they let their children play when our grandchildren visited.
Every time our neighbors tried to help us see “the error of our ways,” we reminded them that we had the utmost respect for their beliefs and the way they lived and nurtured their children. We then added that we expected the same respect for our beliefs, which also centered on the Savior’s teachings.
When the mother tried to make our differences into a deep, uncrossable chasm by claiming that Latter-day Saints believed in a “different Jesus,” I reminded her that we both believed He is divine and the beloved Son of God. Eventually she and I enjoyed a warm and friendly relationship.
Their family moved without joining the Church. But if they can say, “We lived among Mormons; they are good and respectful people with sincere hearts,” then I feel we succeeded in being good neighbors and in helping them become more open and fair in their assessment of Latter-day Saints.

A true story from the USA.
“Are we there yet?” Justina asked.
“Almost,” Grandma said. The car turned around the corner, and there it was! The temple stood tall on the hill. It was so beautiful!
Justina and her family were here for the temple dedication. Mom said it was an important meeting where an Apostle would give a special prayer inside the temple. Then the temple would be ready for Church members to perform ordinances inside. “Temple dedications are broadcasted so members of the Church can watch them from their church buildings,” Mom explained. “But we are lucky to be able to attend the dedication inside the temple.”
Outside the temple doors, they were given white plastic covers to put on their shoes. Justina thought they looked silly. “Why do we have to wear these?” she asked Grandma.
“They protect the new carpets,” whispered Grandma. “Remember, we need to whisper inside the temple, OK? We want to be reverent in the Lord’s house.”
As they walked through the temple, Justina stared up at the high ceilings. It was so quiet that she wanted to walk on her tippy-toes and hold her breath. She was amazed when they began to walk up a spiral staircase. The stairs seemed to go on forever.
Finally they arrived at the room where her family would watch the dedication. “This is called a sealing room,” Grandma said quietly. “Do you know what happens here?”
Justina shook her head no.
“This is where families are sealed together forever. That means they can live together in heaven after they die. Look at the mirrors.” Grandma pointed to mirrors on both sides of the room. “See what happens when you look at your reflection?”
Justina looked in one of the mirrors and saw her reflection repeated over and over.
“Wow,” Justina said, making sure to whisper this time. “It goes on forever.”
As the dedication began, Justina thought about her family. Her parents were divorced. And she knew they hadn’t been sealed in the temple.
She looked at her mom and siblings sitting next to her. Would she get to be together with them in heaven? What if I can’t be with my family forever because we’re not sealed? That thought made her feel scared and worried.
Justina leaned close to Grandma and asked, “What happens if you aren’t sealed to your family?”
Grandma thought for a minute. Then she said, “I don’t really know, honey. But I do know that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”
Justina thought about that as she listened to the next speaker. Soon the dedication was almost over. It was time to sing “The Spirit of God.”
As Justina stood and sang, she felt a warm feeling in her heart. She knew the Holy Ghost was telling her that everything would be OK. She felt like her faith was growing.
When the song ended, Justina gave Grandma a hug. She didn’t have all the answers, but she had faith that God loved her and her family very much. She knew she could trust Him.

Up north, just over the state line in Tullahoma, Tennessee, Branden Bates looks at his neighbor’s house across the street. It brings a smile to his face. And whenever he walks across the street to say hello to his neighbors, he brings a smile to theirs. Not long ago, their house and garage were badly in need of painting and repairs, but they are elderly and have health and sight problems. They couldn’t do the work themselves and couldn’t afford to hire it out. As part of a community beautification activity, Branden and other young men helping him with his Eagle Scout project came to their rescue.
Which ties in with what Branden says, summing up the experience of all three young men. “You learn to love those you serve with,” he says, “as well as those you serve.”