Gospel Story Finder

by Sandra Dawn Brimhall
The lights in the cultural hall are dim. All backstage noise comes to a halt as the scenery is put in place and the actors take their positions. An expectant hush falls over the audience. It is road show night at the Salt Lake Utah Monument Park Stake. The imminent performance by the Monument Park 15th Ward has everyone more attentive, and some a little more apprehensive, than usual. The word is out that the 15th Ward has had only one rehearsal.
The concept of a one-day-of-rehearsal road show was not born of poor management or procrastination. It was intentional. After road show veteran Gayle Clegg accepted the calling to direct the ward road show, she said, “There must be a way to take the pain out of road shows.” With the busy schedules of most of the youth, weeks of practice was a nearly impossible commitment. Sister Clegg received permission to try her one-day approach.
Advanced preparations included writing the script, planning and making costumes, and painting scenery. The show itself was divided into six segments with a leader assigned to each segment. Overcoming the young people’s initial concern that they would end up on stage unprepared, the leaders got commitments from nearly 100 percent of the youth.
On the day set aside for the one big rehearsal, the six sections practiced their parts and were rotated onto the stage every 45 minutes. Great things were happening in addition to preparing the show. Older participants were helping the younger, and a feeling of unity was emerging. Mindy Richards, 13, commented, “I never became bored at the rehearsal. When our group was through I enjoyed watching the others rehearse. We were not tired of it. It was new to all of us.”
The night the road shows were presented, the Monument Park 15th Ward was ready. The road show was a success. Richard Schettler had been in other road shows. He felt that this was “the best road show I have ever been in. All the youth in the ward were involved, and it didn’t take all of our time.”
In the end, the big success was not just the road show; it was also the great feeling of nearly every young person in the ward working together. Tina Clegg said, “We have never had so many kids in the road show before. It was great!”

Months later, my youth leaders challenged me to read the entire Book of Mormon before attending a summer camp. I agreed but procrastinated, and I soon fell behind. In a rush to catch up, I began to read for longer periods of time. I can still recall sitting on my porch reading for the better part of an hour. Before this, I was lucky to read for 10 minutes at a time. For the first time in my life, I lost myself in the scriptures. I realized that Alma the Younger was a real person. He wasn’t just a story my leaders taught me. He actually rebelled against his prophet father, and, through faith and the Atonement, was still able to change. I wondered what happened next. I had pieces of the story in my mind, but it hadn’t come together into a whole. I kept reading, watching him grow. For the first time I actually enjoyed what I read.
These experiences and many others began to build my small testimony. Yet, I still questioned. I questioned a lot. I decided to read the Book of Mormon daily and ask for confirmation that it was true. After many nights of reading and many prayers, I felt I received an answer from heaven. It was something I couldn’t create. There was no one else around to lead me to the feeling. I felt a warmth—almost like a light—in me. It somehow seemed to calm and excite me simultaneously. I felt that my Heavenly Father had heard my prayer. He sent a message through my thoughts that the Book of Mormon is true and the Church is His kingdom on earth. I also felt He wanted me to know that He had been answering my prayers continually throughout my life. I just hadn’t realized it. Where would my testimony be without the scriptures?
Later I read the same scriptures to calm my nerves on a plane to the mission field. I read them to inspire and motivate me through my college years. I read them to confirm if I should ask my wife to marry me. I read them for guidance in my career. I read them to find out how to be a better father. Every day I felt I learned and grew more. My testimony became stronger. I found the strength to trust in the Lord more and more.
The majority of my Christmas presents I received growing up were eventually packed in boxes, broken and discarded, or given to secondhand stores. But I still have those maroon scriptures with my name embossed on the cover. They are faded and worn. Some pages are torn, and the margins are filled with notes and quotes.
I cannot think of another Christmas gift that I have used more or one that has affected me more than what was in that little white box. Over time, it changed my life. It helped me come to my Savior Jesus Christ and learn to follow Him. It helped me gain a testimony of His gospel and motivated me to do my part in it. It has helped me become more like Him. What could be a more fitting Christmas gift? I thank my Heavenly Father that my parents gave me a gift I didn’t want.

During that same Saturday afternoon leadership meeting, I noticed some youth slip into the meeting and reverently and attentively listen to the teachings and discussion. I was surprised to see them, as those invited to the leadership meeting were adult district and branch council members, and typically youth are not anxious to sit through long additional Church meetings, especially when not directed at them. After the meeting, we went to meet these fine young people and to learn more about them. I was astonished to learn that they had just arrived on a public transportation bus from seven hours away. They had come straight to the meetinghouse with the desire to feel the Spirit during this weekend district conference. It was obvious that they were full of joy at being in the midst of fellow members of the Church far from their homes in the north of Namibia. Several were new converts, and several were actively preparing to serve missions despite living in a town where there was no organized unit of the Church. They were led by a wonderful returned missionary who radiates the joy of the gospel and is appropriately named Happy. Immediately following the Sunday session of the conference, this impressive group of young people would once again get on a bus for the seven-hour return journey so they could be home in time for school and work on Monday. I marveled at their willingness to journey from so far at great personal sacrifice to hear the word of the Lord and am delighted to know that now in their own town of Ongwediva, we have since organized a branch of the Church.

President and Sister Groberg were called to preside over the Tonga Mission when Gayle, their fifth daughter, was only six months old. When they left, Jean, a young mother going into a strange land with five young children, expressed her feelings this way: “I had heard John talk through the years of these people—their great faith, their love, and their service—and I didn’t have any worries. I was really excited about it.” She summarized that period of their life by saying that it was more than a chapter, it was the whole theme of life. “It really doesn’t matter where you are, the things that really count can be developed in any humble or great place.”

Our parents were happy for us to join the Church, but they wanted no part of it. My sister and I tried our best to regularly attend church meetings, but it wasn’t easy, especially with competing influences in our home. For example, we often had to choose between going to sacrament meeting and spending Sunday at the beach with our family.
But Fiasili and I worked to strengthen each other’s testimonies. We thought that if our parents could just accept the gospel, we wouldn’t have to live in two worlds. So, we invited the missionaries to teach them. In the process, our younger brother—and many of our cousins who lived with us—joined the Church.
It took a little longer for my parents. My sister was serving a full-time mission in Suva, Fiji, when our mother finally got baptised. Our father had actually been a less active member for many years, and it was such a joy to see them both start coming to church with us.

My mother taught me to work hard. She asked me to get the work done first and then go play. One day a few of us helped my mom move a piano from upstairs to downstairs. It was a big, old piano. It wasn’t easy to move. We moved it around corners and finally down the stairs. When we set it down, my mother was glowing with happiness—just because we’d moved a piano! I said, “Mom, I think you would rather move a piano than listen to a piano.” She nodded. She loved to work.

Allow me to share with you an experience from my own boyhood. When I was 11 years old, my family had to leave East Germany and begin a new life in West Germany overnight. Until my father could get back into his original profession as a government employee, my parents operated a small laundry business in our little town. I became the laundry delivery boy. To be able to do that effectively, I needed a bicycle to pull the heavy laundry cart. I had always dreamed of owning a nice, sleek, shiny, sporty red bicycle. But there had never been enough money to fulfill this dream. What I got instead was a heavy, ugly, black, sturdy workhorse of a bicycle. I delivered laundry on that bike before and after school for quite a few years. Most of the time, I was not overly excited about the bike, the cart, or my job. Sometimes the cart seemed so heavy and the work so tiring that I thought my lungs would burst, and I often had to stop to catch my breath. Nevertheless, I did my part because I knew we desperately needed the income as a family, and it was my way to contribute.
If I had only known back then what I learned many years later—if I had only been able to see the end from the beginning—I would have had a better appreciation of these experiences, and it would have made my job so much easier.
Many years later, when I was about to be drafted into the military, I decided to volunteer instead and join the Air Force to become a pilot. I loved flying and thought being a pilot would be my thing.
To be accepted for the program I had to pass a number of tests, including a strict physical exam. The doctors were slightly concerned by the results and did some additional medical tests. Then they announced, “You have scars on your lung which are an indication of a lung disease in your early teenage years, but obviously you are fine now.” The doctors wondered what kind of treatment I had gone through to heal the disease. Until the day of that examination I had never known that I had any kind of lung disease. Then it became clear to me that my regular exercise in fresh air as a laundry boy had been a key factor in my healing from this illness. Without the extra effort of pedaling that heavy bicycle day in and day out, pulling the laundry cart up and down the streets of our town, I might never have become a jet fighter pilot and later a 747 airline captain.

As a bishop of a student ward adjacent to the University of Utah campus about 18 years ago, I tried vainly to hold a young marriage together. The wife had been unfaithful, and as I sought to help and to understand, I learned that as a child this woman had an adulterous father. Though unjustified, she acted out her feelings about men. What she then did was not love. Several years after my release as bishop, I saw a story in the local paper about her having been arrested for prostitution. I know not where she is today, but I cannot put out of my mind the words of Jacob, who decried unfaithful fathers who had lost the confidence of their children because of their bad examples (see Jacob 2:35).

In October 2004 the Young Women and Young Men organizations in our stake had an event called “Modesty in Dress,” based on the pamphlet For the Strength of Youth. It consisted of a fashion show divided into three parts: casual wear, sportswear, and formal wear. We asked each of the young men and young women to select three changes of clothing, and we helped them choose which clothes were suitable. We invited their leaders and parents to this activity. We emphasized scriptural verses about the body being a temple (see 1 Cor. 6:19–20) and the counsel of our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley. The activity had a positive effect; the young people in our stake are more concerned now about grooming and dressing in an appropriate way.
Teresa de Jesús Contreras de Ramírez, Mexico

It was a period of rapid economic growth for Kirtland and Ohio. Money and credit were scarce on the American frontier. Population, business opportunities, and land prices were all increasing rapidly, and LDS businessmen saw the need for a bank to print and circulate notes as an aid to paying debts and further stimulating an inflationary economy. On November 2, 1836, Joseph Smith and others organized the Kirtland Safety Society Bank and applied for a state charter. During the previous eight years more than 400 new banks had been established in the United States for similar purposes. But the Kirtland application arrived in Columbus, the capital of Ohio, just after anti-banking forces won control, and government officials refused to issue any new bank charters. The Mormon applicants then decided to create a joint stock company to issue notes and take in money. They called it the Kirtland Safety Society Anti-Banking Company and overprinted that name on the bank notes already prepared.
When Kirtland notes began circulating in January 1837, backed by a limited amount of gold, they were accepted at face value. Residents used them to purchase goods and pay old debts. But before the month had ended, the bank had to stop redeeming its notes in gold coin. The demand for gold was greater than available supplies. When other banks in the area learned that the paper money was redeemable only in land they refused to accept the Kirtland notes. These difficulties for the company were multiplied when the United States entered an economic panic which forced hundreds of banks to close.
Joseph Smith resigned as cashier of the Kirtland Anti-Banking Company early in the summer of 1837, several months before the firm closed its doors permanently. Like a number of others, the Prophet was left deeply in debt by the company’s failure. He had invested in land and had purchased merchandise for his store on credit, but could not easily sell his assets to get money to pay his debts.
Some of his associates failed to separate Joseph Smith’s role as prophet and businessman. He was struggling like others to earn a living, and closure of the business was not related to his integrity as a religious leader. Yet some in Kirtland became bitter and attempted to replace him as president of the Church. A faction turned against him as a prophet. Their apostasy led to threats against his life and against the lives of his supporters. Brigham Young and others publicly defended Joseph Smith and then joined the Prophet in fleeing from Kirtland to escape assassination or harassment.
The departing Church leaders traveled in the cold of winter to Missouri. They arrived in the early spring of 1838 at Far West, where members came to their assistance with animals and money. That summer many of the loyal members remaining in Kirtland decided to join the Saints in Missouri. Under the direction of the seventies, a group of more than 500 people known as the Kirtland Camp traveled by wagon over rough frontier roads to Far West and then became settlers at Adam-ondi-Ahman.

Because you are a first-generation member, each choice you make is important. Seemingly small, insignificant decisions will impact past and future generations, as well as your own life. One young first-generation member, Chris, was offered a drink of alcohol at work the day after his baptism. His friends were all there and were drinking. There was considerable pressure. No one else knew that the day before, he had been baptized and made promises to the Lord. He made the decision not to drink and was treated poorly. Reflecting on that event later, he wrote: “It is now forty years since I made those [baptismal] promises and I can truthfully say that I have … kept the Word of Wisdom. … I believe if I had accepted [that] drink that I would, perhaps, never have been able to keep the Word of Wisdom.”

But Chris kept his baptismal promises. Later he met and married a faithful member. Together they raised eight children in the gospel. Now in the sixth generation, his faithful descendants number in the hundreds. Dozens have served missions and introduced the gospel to others. His efforts in family history opened the blessings of the gospel to hundreds more. One small decision by a first-generation member made a difference for thousands.

Many years ago, while serving as a bishop, I invited a young man to serve a mission. He refused. It set me back; I had not anticipated his refusal. He claimed that he did not have a testimony, and he felt that it would be hypocritical of him to serve without a testimony. Six months later I issued the invitation again and received the same response. This time the Spirit came to my rescue. I said, “Young man, answer me some basic questions. Is there a God in heaven?”

“Well, of course there is. If I didn’t believe there was a God, I wouldn’t pray.”

I said, “Thank you. Is Jesus the Christ?”

“Yes, of course He is. I’ve never doubted that fact. He is the Son of God; he is my Savior.”

“Was Joseph Smith the Prophet of the Restoration?”

“Oh certainly, Bishop,” he said. “I feel certain that he received a divine commission from God to perform his work.”

I said, “One more question. Is David O. McKay a Prophet today?” (This was many years ago.)

A big smile crossed his face, and he asked, “When do I leave?” He had the testimony all the time. He just had not realized what a testimony was and how to verbalize it.

After learning of this counsel, the Lugo family of Valencia, Venezuela, felt inspired to begin their own home storage. Each week they began setting aside a small amount of food, water, and money. Even with their limited resources, they were able to gather a modest reserve after only a few months. Later that year a workers’ strike in Venezuela put many local workers’ jobs in jeopardy. Brother Omar Lugo was among those who eventually lost their jobs.

It took nearly two years for Brother Lugo to find new employment. During that time, Brother Lugo and his family lived on their savings and food storage. Despite the difficult challenges of unemployment, the Lugos experienced peace and comfort because they were prepared. They faced the uncertain future with confidence, knowing they had followed the counsel to gradually build their home storage.9

For their efforts in saving the life of Levi Tapp, Sand Tapp and David Bos received Boy Scout National Council certificates of Heroism.
In a televised presentation, the two 11-year-olds received gold medals for risking their lives to save another’s. The three boys were walking along the bank of a lake close to their home. Levi slipped in the mud and fell through the ice at the edge of the lake. Sand and David crawled out to Levi, and with one holding the legs of the other, grabbed Levi and inched him up onto solid ice. Sand wrapped Levi in his coat and carried him the half mile to his home.
The boys are from the Second Ward, Springfield Missouri Stake.

My father died last year, and now he is getting more of the education that he always wanted when he was a little boy. And me? Well, my wife and I have children of our own in school. And when they say, “But I don’t want to go to school,” I say, “Then I’ll go in your place. Do you think the teacher would mind? I wonder if I can fit into the seat at your desk?” And when they say, “My teacher makes me work too hard,” I just smile and mess up their hair and say, “I doubt it.”

During one of my most challenging transfers as a missionary in Rwanda, I remember I recorded everything I was feeling at the time in my journal and I concluded my entry with this statement, “I did not come this far to only come this far”—Tom Brady.1
As I have remembered this distant and seemingly small memory of my mission, I have realised that I have actually unknowingly continued the application of that statement in many aspects of my life.
For instance, when I have come as far as being enrolled to study the degree of my choice only to feel that maybe I do not have what it takes to make it, I am reminded to keep working. When I have come as far as accepting a calling in the ward and being set apart only later to feel that I actually have a lot on my plate, I am reminded to keep my word and render that service anyway. When I have come as far as feeling a fraction of the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ only to make mistakes that bring me great sorrow, I am reminded to repent regardless of how hopeless I feel.
It is always at these crucial moments when I have forgotten how far the Lord has brought me because I am overwhelmed at how far I still have to go, the account in John 6 becomes extremely relevant to me. The Saviour had just finished teaching about Him being the true bread from heaven which was an uncomfortable teaching to many because “from that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.
“Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?
“Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.
“And we believe and are sure that thou are that Christ, the Son of the living God.”2
To imagine the Saviour asking me this question causes me to consider my ways and to desire to push forward. Even Peter understood that he could not have walked that far with Jesus Christ only to walk away at a moment of personal inconvenience or due to a lack of understanding.
Looking back, I wonder if I would have learned this important principle of endurance had I not been a missionary fighting to rise above her challenges and somehow something tells me, probably not. I doubt that statement in my journal would have affected me the way that it did had I read and written it under different circumstances. The prophet Joseph Smith felt the words in James 1:5 piercing him in his heart because at that time, he was going through something that prepared him to receive eternal truths. I have come to understand that there are eternal truths to be found and learned when we strive to do the will of the Lord no matter how hard it is. Serving a mission for me was not a sacrifice because I lost nothing, and I gained everything. I thought leaving my family for 18 months was a huge deal, but I came back and personally, I think my grandmother loves me more because she realised how boring the house is without my constant talking and occasional drama. My education, my friends, my hobbies, my social media etc. all these things have been restored to me but have been doubled because now they come with sanctifying mission experiences that help me to discern the attacks of the adversary hidden within them.
The adversary, the enemy of truth, seeks to discredit the blessings of serving a mission to prospective, current and returned missionaries because he knows that those experiences carry the children of God further than where they are now. I testify that we did not come as far as we have in the plan of salvation to only come this far. The Saviour Jesus Christ is willing to carry us from this telestial world to the celestial. But His scope of interest is not limited to those of us that are here. Collectively it extends to those that do not know of His restored gospel and individually it extends to our eternal families. I pray and hope that none of us will walk away from the promises we have made to our Saviour Jesus Christ. I love Him, I love His gospel and I am grateful that priesthood authority has been restored in our time.

I had always wanted a dirt bike. Both of my brothers-in-law had bikes and went riding a lot. I wanted to go with them. I bought my bike during the winter, so I didn’t have a chance to ride it right away. While the snow was on the ground, I would go out in the garage and sit on it and dream about riding.
I had heard a lot of horror stories about people getting hurt while riding. As I sat on my bike in the garage, I thought about difficult situations I might get into. I decided that as much as I loved that bike and as nice looking as it was, if I found myself in a situation where it was a choice between my life or saving my bike, the bike would be gone.
Summer came and I had the chance to go riding. My brother-in-law and I went biking in a gravel pit that was near a local reservoir. It had some nice hills. I was playing follow the leader with him. I was down below watching him as he went up a hill. He stopped at the top and was kind of looking off in the distance. He didn’t turn around and say anything, so I started up the hill much faster than he had taken it. When I got to the top, I gunned it and got a little air. The problem was that about as soon as I made it to the top, I could see that there was a drop-off. I had a split second to act. As soon as my front tire hit, I laid the bike down. The bike skidded over the cliff. The momentum carried me over as well, but I was able to grab on to the edge. My legs were dangling, and I was running in air, but I was able to pull myself up.
After my heart slowed a little, I looked over the edge and there was my bike, 30 feet down. I thought it was going to be demolished. I went down and picked it up. I kick started the engine, and it seemed fine. The only damage was bent handlebars and a broken mud flap. But when I looked back up the little cliff, I realized that if I had tried to stay on my bike, I could have been seriously hurt.
That really drove home to me how grateful I was for having made my decision ahead of time. I had already visualized what I would do in the safety of my garage. So when the moment of danger came, I reacted just as I had imagined. I let the bike go and saved myself from injury.

When he was 15, his family moved to New Jersey, where he had some of his most memorable testimony-building experiences. “It was during that time that my faith matured into a full-blown testimony,” he says. “I grew up with faith among family and friends and others who influenced my life; I don’t recall a time when I didn’t have that belief that the gospel was true. But in New Jersey I became conscious of knowing that it was true and that it mattered.”2
During that time, he and his brother Greg participated in the Hill Cumorah Pageant in New York for two summers. Once when he was about 16 years old, he was searching for a personal testimony of the gospel and thought that the pageant would be the perfect time to get it. He recalls:
“One night after the performance, I decided to go to the Sacred Grove alone. It was a beautiful, clear summer night. I thought, This is it—the place, the time. What more ideal setting could I have? I prayed for a long, long time—well over an hour. Nothing happened. I finally gave up and walked back to Palmyra, wondering, What did I do wrong or what didn’t I do right? What was missing?
“I’ve since thought a lot about that experience. One of the lessons I learned from it was that you shouldn’t try to dictate to God the timing or the content of revelation. It was later that summer—when I was home by myself in a little basement bedroom, reading the Book of Mormon—that a witness came very powerfully. It just overwhelmed me. I know from that experience the truth of what Joseph Smith witnessed and the truth of the Book of Mormon and the reality of the Savior. That hasn’t been my only witness, but it was a great strengthening of my testimony.
“I found that you don’t have to be in a special place to receive that witness. You will receive answers to your prayers if you are earnest and keep asking and searching. … Anywhere in the world, the Lord will speak to you.”3

This story took place in England.
Jonah ate his last bite of food and smiled. Dinner was always more fun when the missionaries came over.
“We want to share a message with you about service,” said Sister Kearl. “Why is serving others important?”
“Because it makes Jesus happy!” said Eliza, Jonah’s little sister.
“You’re right! It makes Him very happy. And when we help others, it makes us happy too,” said Sister Christensen. “Do you know anyone who needs help?”
Jonah thought for a minute. “I can’t think of a person, but our garden at school could use some help.”
“Good idea,” said Mum.
Jonah’s school had a garden where they could do outdoor activities. But no one had taken care of the garden for a long time. The bushes were overgrown. There were lots of weeds too.
“We’d love to help you with that!” said Sister Kearl. “Who can we invite to help clean it with us?”
“Our cousins!” said Jacob, Jonah’s brother.
“And our Primary class,” said Jonah.
The next day, Mum talked to someone at the school to get permission. They picked a day to clean the garden. Then Mum helped Jonah and his siblings call their cousins and Primary class.
A few weeks later, Jonah and his family met the missionaries at the school. Their cousins and Primary friends were there too. It was time to get to work!
Jonah put on a pair of big rubber garden gloves. “Look, Mum. My hands are huge!”
Mum laughed. “You can use those huge hands to help trim these bushes.”
She handed Jonah some clippers that looked like giant scissors. Then she helped him cut away the dead branches.
“This is fun,” Jonah said.
While Jonah trimmed, Eliza helped dig around the garden. Jacob helped Daddy build a new bird house. The others pulled weeds and gathered sticks. They put them in big blue plastic bags. Even Jonah’s youngest brother, Ezra, helped by picking up rocks.
Soon the garden was clean. Jonah counted the bags they had filled. “There are 13 bags!” he said. “We cleaned up so much rubbish.”
Sister Christensen smiled. “Now we need everyone’s big muscles to help us carry these to the car.”
Jonah, Jacob, and Eliza each grabbed a bag. Jonah felt happy as he lifted the last one into the car. Helping the missionaries had been fun. He wanted to be a missionary someday too. Until then, there were lots of ways he could serve. He could hardly wait to think of his next project!

Ilnara Peixoto Marinho of Fortaleza, Brazil, had been sealed to her family in the temple. But for a long time the family had not been as active in church as they once were. Then one Sunday morning, Ilnara’s Young Women president showed up at her home, along with Sister Beck, who was in town and wanted to visit some young women. When Sister Beck asked Ilnara about her Personal Progress, Ilnara had to admit she had never worked on it at all. Then Sister Beck gave her a challenge. If she would find her book, finish one of the short experiences, and bring it to the fireside that night, Sister Beck would sign it off for her.

That day, Ilnara not only started working on Personal Progress; she also started helping turn her family’s life around. She began attending church. Then she and her sister began going with their mother. When Ilnara’s dad finally joined them, he was called to be in the bishopric. The whole family returned to the temple together. And it all started with Personal Progress.