Gospel Story Finder

Our example will always speak loudly. During my years as a Church member, I have been influenced by the examples of many leaders and Church members. I remember a wonderful couple who were great examples to our family and to the entire ward. They were baptized in 1982. I was their bishop.

Celso and Irene lived quite far from the chapel. They walked 40 minutes each way to the church, and they never missed a meeting. They were always present with big smiles on their faces. It was their disposition to serve others. Celso and Irene have a son, Marcos, who was born mentally and physically handicapped. I remember well how they took such loving care of their son. In 1999 Celso had a cerebral brain hemorrhage that left his lower body paralyzed. Celso continued to come to church faithfully with his family. They were faithful in the payment of their tithing and paid generous fast offerings. Our son Moroni is now their bishop, and he shared with me that Celso and Irene continue to serve faithfully. Not only do they serve in their ward callings; they also serve faithfully as ordinance workers in the São Paulo Brazil Temple. They serve every Friday from early morning until night. They always contribute so willingly of their time and resources in faithfully fulfilling their Church responsibilities.

That is the kind of quiet service rendered by Celso and Irene.

My testimony that this is the true and living Church began in my childhood. One of my earliest memories is of a conference meeting held not in some place like this but in a rented room of a hotel. A man was speaking whom I did not know, nor do I know his name today. I knew only that he was someone sent to our little district in the mission field by someone who held the priesthood. I do not know what he said. But I received a powerful, certain witness before I was eight, even before I was baptized, that I was hearing a servant of God in the true Church of Jesus Christ. It was not the rental room nor the size of the congregation, which was small, but it was a witness that I had been blessed at that moment to be in a meeting of the true Church.

We have visited the actual grove in Palmyra, New York, on many occasions. It is one of my favorite places on this globe. My family all know that if I ever win an all-expense-paid trip to anywhere in the world, I will most likely choose Palmyra! I would like to share with you one of our many experiences.

Sacred Grove 2006
A grandpa and two little grandsons, hand in hand, on the path to the Sacred Grove. They had just come from the Hill Cumorah Visitors’ Center, where they had watched the movie of the First Vision. As they approached the entrance to the grove, grandpa asks the boys if they were ready to go in there. Brayden, the older of the two, said that he didn’t want to go in. Not expecting that for an answer, grandpa asked, “Why not?” His answer: “Because Satan is in there!” He remembered from the film that Satan attacked the boy Joseph Smith, bound his tongue, and tried to stop his communication with God. The Spirit prompted grandpa to ask what Joseph did when Satan attacked.

The boys responded, “He prayed harder.”
“And who came?”
“Heavenly Father and Jesus.”
“Yes, they did, and they kicked Satan out, and I don’t think he has been back since!”

With that explanation, they were good to enter.

Both of these boys, our two oldest grandsons are currently sharing their Witnesses of the Living Father and Son in a foreign tongue, called to Guatemala and Armenia/Georgia.

In 1941 the Gila River overflowed and flooded the Duncan Valley in Arizona. A young stake president by the name of Spencer W. Kimball met with his counselors, assessed the damage, and sent a telegram to Salt Lake City asking for a large sum of money.

Instead of sending money, President Heber J. Grant sent three men: Henry D. Moyle, Marion G. Romney, and Harold B. Lee. They visited with President Kimball and taught him an important lesson: “This isn’t a program of ‘give me,’” they said. “This is a program of ‘self-help.’”

Many years later, President Kimball said: “It would have been an easy thing, I think, for the Brethren to have sent us [the money,] and it wouldn’t have been too hard to sit in my office and distribute it; but what a lot of good came to us as we had hundreds of [our own] go to Duncan and build fences and haul the hay and level the ground and do all the things that needed doing. That is self-help.”

By following the Lord’s way, the members of President Kimball’s stake not only had their immediate needs met, but they also developed self-reliance, alleviated suffering, and grew in love and unity as they served each other.

Cragg Rogers, 21, from San Diego, California, was first introduced to the Church when his parents gave him a survival trip for a graduation present. There were 37 Mormons and three non-Mormons enrolled in the program. They spent 28 days in a southern Utah desert.
“It was really a spiritual trip,” Cragg recalled. “From the first I noticed there was something different about the Mormons. Whenever we came up against hard circumstances, they would pray about it. We were out in the middle of the desert, with almost no food or water, and they held church on Sundays. They even had me give a talk, if you can believe it. In the general misery of a survival trip, everyone helped each other. There were no airs. That survival trip turned my whole life around,” Cragg said.
It was two years after that first introduction to the Church before Cragg finally joined. The spirit of the LDS friends Cragg had made on the survival trip left a deep impression.
“The spirit I felt on that trip was on my mind, and I couldn’t get rid of it,” Cragg said, smiling. “I finally decided to get into it and really find out what it was about. The members were more than willing to help.”

I take you back to the general conference of October 1856. On Saturday of that conference Franklin D. Richards and a handful of associates arrived in the [Salt Lake Valley]. They had traveled from Winter Quarters with strong teams and light wagons and had been able to make good time. Brother Richards immediately sought out President Young. He reported that there were hundreds of men, women, and children scattered over the long trail from Scottsbluff to this valley. Most of them were pulling handcarts. They were accompanied by two wagon trains which had been assigned to assist them. They had reached the area of the last crossing of the North Platte River. Ahead of them lay a trail that was uphill all the way to the Continental Divide with many, many miles beyond that. …
The next morning [President Young] came to the old Tabernacle which stood on [Temple Square]. He said to the people:
“… Many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with handcarts, and probably many are now seven hundred miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. …
“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess. It is to save the people.
“I shall call upon the Bishops this day. I shall not wait until tomorrow, nor until the next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen. I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them. Also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams.
“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”1
That afternoon, food, bedding, and clothing in great quantities were assembled by the women.
The next morning, horses were shod and wagons were repaired and loaded.
The following morning, Tuesday, 16 mule teams pulled out and headed eastward. By the end of October, there were 250 teams on the road to give relief.
Wonderful sermons have been preached from this pulpit, my brethren and sisters. But none has been more eloquent than that spoken by President Young in those circumstances.

As one of many examples, a translator was needed for the translation and recording of Church materials in Mam (pronounced “mum,” a descendant of the Mayan language, spoken in Guatemala). Among the first missionaries called to Guatemala was an elder whose grandfather had spoken Mam. The missionary had been raised in a city and spoke only Spanish. But every night his grandfather would come to him in dreams and teach him the Mam language. This young elder became the primary translator of Mam in the Church.

When I was called to serve a mission in 1980 to the Philippines, I was the oldest son and the oldest grandson on both sides of my family to accept a call. The last missionary to serve was my father, who served in the 1950s. I had never been away from home for more than a night or two in my life. Sensing my nervousness, my bishop told me I would be the best missionary ever to have served from our ward. That gave me some confidence. I am pretty sure he deliberately gave that message to every missionary. Fast forward two months, I am now serving in some very remote village hours from the mission home and across the planet from my family. There was only one telephone in town, no email, and we received our mail in batches, a month's worth of letters at a time. I was not only very homesick but became both anxious and depressed. Best missionary—not hardly! I began to doubt and, true to my fallen-man nature, became very focused on myself. I beat myself up for every negative thought. I tried listening to hours of church music, memorizing scriptures, and doing countless pushups—all trying to make myself feel better. When I shared my challenges with my mission president, he invited me to “cross the bridge.” He told me, “You are on the man-to-man side of the bridge. You are only focusing on yourself, your happiness, your baptisms, your chances for leadership. When you cross the bridge, your whole focus shifts to bringing others to Christ. Your investigators, your companion—everyone you have been asked to serve. On your side of the bridge, it is all about yourself; on the other side of the bridge, it is all about others.

After my mission, I learned that as a discouraged young missionary Gordon B. Hinckley received this simple counsel from his father: “Dear Gordon, . . . I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work.” [10] Like Elder Hinckley, I took my mission president’s advice and poured myself into the work. And though it wasn’t immediate, my homesickness, anxiety, and depression lifted. Regarding the value of serving God by serving others, Sister Ester Rasband stated, “It is still true that we must lose ourselves to find ourselves. There is no “I” in PEACE.” [11]

Sometimes the tables are reversed. A dear and cherished young friend, Wendy Bennion of Salt Lake City, was such an example. Just the day before yesterday, she quietly departed mortality and returned “to that God who gave [her] life” (Alma 40:11). She had struggled for over five long years in her battle with cancer. Ever cheerful, always reaching out to help others, never losing faith, she had a contagious smile that attracted others to her as a magnet attracts metal shavings. While Wendy was ill and in pain, a friend of hers, feeling downcast with her own situation, visited her. Nancy, Wendy’s mother, knowing Wendy was in extreme pain, felt that perhaps the friend had stayed too long. She asked Wendy, after the friend had left, why she had allowed her to stay so long when she herself was in so much pain. Wendy’s response: “What I was doing for my friend was a lot more important than the pain I was having. If I can help her, then the pain is worth it.” Wendy’s attitude was reminiscent of Him who bore the sorrows of the world, who patiently suffered excruciating pain and disappointment, but who, with silent step of His sandaled feet, passed by a man who was blind from birth, restoring his sight. He approached the grieving widow of Nain and raised her son from the dead. He trudged up Calvary’s steep slope, carrying His own cruel cross, undistracted by the constant jeers and taunting that accompanied His every step. For He had an appointment with divine destiny. In a very real way He visits us, each one, with His teachings. He brings cheer and inspires goodness. He gave His precious life that the grave would be deprived of its victory, that death would lose its sting, that life eternal would be our gift.

As the time to leave Nauvoo drew near, the Brethren redoubled their efforts to help as many Saints as possible receive their endowments. Brigham Young wrote, “Such has been the anxiety manifested by the saints to receive the ordinances (of the Temple), and such the anxiety on our part to administer to them, that I have given myself up entirely to the work of the Lord in the Temple night and day, not taking more than four hours sleep, upon an average, per day, and going home but once a week.”

But it was not just the Apostles who were working hard. Many faithful Saints gave freely of their time by washing the temple clothing each night so the temple work could continue the next morning.

The Brethren planned to stop the ordinance work on 3 February 1846. President Young left the temple to make final preparations to leave Nauvoo, but upon seeing a large crowd gathered to receive their endowments, he returned. This delayed his departure for another two weeks, but it meant that 5,615 Saints were endowed before they left Nauvoo.

I was sitting in a wonderful house where I live opposite the Marriott Center—pop in and say hi, but don’t all come at once!—one sunny fall day, and I was praying and reading section 136 of the Doctrine and Covenants. It made me weep with joy. President Brigham Young—at Winter Quarters, on the west bank of the Missouri River—wrote after the martyrdom of Brother Joseph:

The Word and Will of the Lord concerning the Camp of Israel in their journeyings to the West:
Let all the people of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and those who journey with them, be organized into companies.10

Those six short words—“and those who journey with them”—were like a fountain of truth and trust. I sat knowing that this scripture was another testimony of Jesus Christ in this new world—after all that had happened unexpectedly and crowning as it were the massive kindnesses overwhelming me. Traveling alongside this restored church means being a part of a fluid, happy, and repentant community. I am constantly delighted by the wonder of that invitation, not only to know ourselves as loved (“I am a child of God,”11 as you sing—that’s a dignity that nothing temporal can ever take away) but to continue becoming and building up one another in love, not being afraid to keep on growing.

As a youth of 18, I went off almost directly from high school graduation to World War II, carrying with me a carbon copy of my patriarchal blessing, which got very smudged. I read it for consolation and reassurance as a young, frightened infantryman during the fighting on the Pacific Island of Okinawa. Just prior to that, high school, for me, had brought some crises in self-esteem. Raising pigs for a farm club project did not, with some, help my social life; severe acne was no help either; and not being very tall meant, among other things, not making the basketball team. All of these things had combined to produce personal disappointment just prior to my going off to war.

But as I left the home of loving and “goodly parents,” I knew who I was and there were some glimmerings of the future. I knew, too, that the Lord loved me. Otherwise, I was insecure and anxious.

I really like science and math. I also play the organ and piano and I like to draw with charcoal. I’m a Nordic ski jumper. I’ve been doing it since I was nine—so about seven years now. I used to train for freestyle skiing right next to a Nordic jump. I thought that the jump looked really fun. So, I asked my mom if I could try it. I really liked it from the day I started. Now I’m on the USA Nordic Women’s Junior National Team. As soon as you jump, it’s like flying!

Another spiritual highlight came two days later in Haifa in the form of an apostolic blessing. The physical and professional demands had been overwhelming for everyone involved with the tour. The following comments of a choir member are representative of similar stresses experienced by others: “Three months of arduous rehearsals, several performances, a dozen broadcasts, personal preparations for the tour, family Christmas activities, and the death of my mother had taken their toll. When I boarded the plane on December 26, I was utterly exhausted. That’s no way to begin a choir tour.” Then in the first two days after arriving in Israel, the choir had four major rehearsals, including three rehearsals of the Berlioz Requiem (nearly an hour and a half long) and a rehearsal and a performance of the a cappella concert.
Before the choir’s first concert in Haifa, Elder James E. Faust pronounced a blessing upon the group. He blessed them that their bodies would be renewed and that they would have the strength to perform.
“I could physically feel the strength gradually come into me,” says choir member Toni Davis. “By the time we were on the stage, we were there in power. I believe that after you do all you can do, the Lord fills in the rest. When I returned to the hotel, I dropped to my knees and gave thanks to the Lord for the strength—not just the spiritual, but also the physical.”

I was only 12 years old when the missionaries arrived for the first time to preach in the city where I was born in northern Chile. One Sunday, after I had been attending the small branch for six months, a missionary offered me the bread as he was passing the sacrament. I looked at him and softly said, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” he replied.
I told him, “Because I am not a member of the Church.”1
The missionary couldn’t believe it. His eyes were shining. I suppose he thought, “But this young man is in every single meeting! How can he not be a member of the Church?”
The following day, the missionaries were in my home, and they did everything they could to teach my whole family. But since my family was not interested, it was only my weekly Church attendance for more than six months that made the missionaries feel confident enough to continue. Finally, the great moment I had been waiting for came when they invited me to become a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. The missionaries explained to me that since I was a minor, I would need my parents’ permission. I went with the missionaries to see my father, thinking that his loving answer would be “Son, when you are of legal age, you will be able to make your own decisions.”
While the missionaries spoke with him, I prayed fervently for his heart to be touched so he would give me the permission I wanted. His answer to the missionaries was the following: “Elders, over the past six months, I have seen my son Jorge get up early every Sunday morning, put on his best clothes, and walk to church. I have seen only a good influence from the Church in his life.” Then, addressing me, he surprised me by saying, “Son, if you will be responsible for this decision, then you have my permission to be baptized.” I hugged my father, gave him a kiss, and thanked him for what he was doing. The next day I was baptized. Last week was the 47th anniversary of that important moment in my life.
How grateful and happy I am for the decision that my father let me make 47 years ago. Over time, I have come to understand that the condition he gave me—to be responsible for that decision—meant being responsible to my Heavenly Father and seeking my own salvation and that of my fellowmen, thereby becoming more as my Father expects and wants me to become. On this very special day, I testify that God our Father and His Beloved Son live. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I’ve had some experience with obstacles and sidetracks. After teaching at the University of Miami for a year, I received in fall 1973 a postdoctoral grant to do research in Yemen. My ticket, paid for by the grant, took me from Miami to New York to Paris to Tunis and then (the plan was) to Cairo and Yemen. Because we had to pay for their travel ourselves, my wife and three small children took a cheapie airline to Luxembourg, rode trains for three days to Istanbul, then got on a plane to Beirut, whence they were to fly to meet me at the Cairo airport so we could proceed to Yemen together.

No one told us that a war would break out between Egypt and Israel a few hours before our scheduled reunion. My wife missed her plane from Beirut—luckily, because it came under fire. My plane was grounded in Libya, where I was put under arrest for three days and then sent back to Tunis. It took me nearly a week to discover that my family was stranded in Lebanon. They came to Tunis, where my research grant had been reassigned by U.S. officials—who changed their minds, however, and told us to proceed to Yemen. We went first to Rome. Our flight from Rome to Jidda in western Arabia was diverted around the war zone to eastern Arabia, where we were detained overnight and then deported to Bahrain. After a month of such obstacles and sidetracks, we finally arrived in Yemen, where we discovered a magical society in which I conducted my research and my wife taught at a Yemeni school. After leaving Yemen we finally did go to Cairo, where we spent the next 11 years.

Soon after I was called to be a stake president, our stake presidency received training from an Area Seventy. During the training, I asked a question to which he responded, “That is a good question. Let’s turn to the Church Handbook of Instructions for the answer.” We then went to the handbook, and there was the answer to my question. A little later in our training, I asked another question. Once again he responded, “Good question. Let’s turn to the handbook.” I did not venture to ask any more questions. I thought it best to read the handbook.

One man who had committed himself to do everything he could to share the gospel with others walked out of his office one day and saw a man running down the hall. He learned this man had stapled his finger. He reached into his big pocket, pulled out Merthiolate and a Band-Aid, and dressed the wound. The shocked individual asked in amazement why he did this. He responded: “I am a Mormon, and Mormons do these things.” This man was prepared to help another whenever possible.

When facing some difficult challenges when I was a teenager, I remember praying to Heavenly Father, asking Him to just take them away from me. I knew He could. I knew He had the power to. But every morning when I woke up, the trials would still be there! I would be devastated. My heart would sink, my faith in the Lord would dwindle. I would feel completely abandoned.

Sometimes I thought my trials were given just to torment me. I couldn’t see any point to them.

One day, I came across these words from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “When those moments come and issues surface, the resolution of which is not immediately forthcoming, hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes.”1

I didn’t know the reasons for my trials at that time, but I decided to focus on what I did know. And I did know deep down that if God wasn’t taking my trials away, there had to be a reason for what I was going through, even if I didn’t understand what that reason was at the time. So I continued to put my faith and trust in Him. I kept hoping some “additional knowledge” would come.

And for me in some of my trials, that knowledge finally did come. And even if it didn’t, the Lord still blessed me in other ways.

President Spencer W. Kimball taught that without trials and challenges in life, “there would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls.”2

There has to be opposition in all things (see 2 Nephi 2:11). Otherwise, how would we ever appreciate the good without the bad? How would we ever feel triumphant when we beat a challenge? We wouldn’t be able to grow if God just magically waved trials away when we asked Him to! When I realized this, my whole perspective on adversity and trials changed. I began to see the good in them.

Trials bring goodness, growth, and strength like nothing else can. But sometimes it can take a while to recognize that goodness. For example, I’ve faced a heavy trial for years, and I may have to face it for the rest of my life.

This particular trial has stretched me, pushed me, and almost defeated me a few times. But now that I look back on everything this trial has put me through, I can honestly say that I am thankful for it. I’m thankful for all my trials.

I’m a different person now because of them. I’m more compassionate, more patient, more forgiving, more resilient, and more hopeful. Through it all, I’ve grown closer to my Heavenly Father and the Savior more than I ever thought I could be. I wouldn’t be who I am today without all my trials.

Adversity is meant to shape you into the person Heavenly Father wants you to become. Trials are definitely challenging, yes, but through it all, they allow you to reach out to God for help, and to feel the comfort, peace, and joy only He can offer you.

If you are struggling to see the good in them now, be patient, keep praying, and have faith. Heavenly Father can strengthen you to endure them well as you continue to put your trust in Him.

Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Challenges, difficulties, questions, doubts—these are part of our mortality. But we are not alone. As disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, we have enormous spiritual reservoirs of light and truth available to us.”3

If you’re facing a difficult trial, you’re in good company. The Lord is very close to you. He will not abandon you. And He can give you more strength and more courage and more faith than you can imagine.

Though it may seem impossible, you truly can have joy in your trials! In fact, President Russell M. Nelson has taught: “When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives. Joy comes from and because of Him. He is the source of all joy.”4

Having joy in your trials comes from focusing on gratitude, having a good attitude, serving others, and always remembering how much God loves you. He is on your side! He wants what’s best for you. He has a plan. Trust Him. He can bring you true happiness. Things might not always be easy in this life, but it is possible to have joy in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in!

Whenever you’re feeling discouraged, remember that everything will make sense one day. We will have all the answers to our “whys.”

Doctrine and Covenants 101:32–33 says: “In that day when the Lord shall come, he shall reveal all things. Things which have passed, and hidden things which no man knew, things of the earth by which it was made, and the purpose and the end thereof.”

I look forward to that day when everything will make sense. When all the dots finally connect. When everything will absolutely work out. Because it will! Though the tunnels of trials we enter may be long sometimes, the light at the end will never go out. It will always be there to guide us. Just keep going. Just keep trusting in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. They will be with you! And you will find true joy throughout this adventure we call life.

Jon trudged through the back door. He dropped his backpack and slumped onto a chair.
“I’m not going to school anymore,” he said to Mom. “I don’t know all my ABCs. I don’t know all the numbers in the math book. I don’t know everything. It’s too hard.”
Mom sat down next to Jon and put her arm around him. “It sounds like you had a tough first day of school,” she said.
“I’m not going back,” Jon said, sniffling a little. “I am just going to stay home and help you take care of baby Ella.”
“You are a good helper,” Mom said as she reached down to pick up Ella, who had crawled over to them. “You are patient and gentle with your sister. You are good at helping wash the car. You can rinse the dishes and pick up your toys and tie your shoes. You can do hard things.”
“Those things aren’t hard to do,” Jon said.
“Do you remember when you were learning to tie your shoes?” Mom asked.
“Yes, that was hard,” Jon said. “The laces kept getting tangled in my fingers.”
“It was hard, but you just kept working at it and soon you could do it by yourself,” Mom said.
Jon shrugged. “Well, I wish I could be like Ella. She doesn’t have to do anything hard.”
“Ella is learning too,” Mom said. “Look how she likes to practice walking to you.”
Jon smiled as Ella toddled toward him and grabbed his fingers. “She’s a little wobbly,” he said.
Ella took two steps holding tightly to Jon’s hand. Then Jon wiggled his fingers out of her grip, and she sat down on the floor.
“When I let go she falls down,” Jon said.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “But she keeps getting back up. She wants to do hard things like you.”
“Did I have a hard time learning to walk?” Jon asked.
“Yes, but you didn’t give up,” Mom said. “You just kept trying, and now look at you—you can walk and run and skip and hop and climb trees.”
Jon hopped all the way around the kitchen table. Then he stopped, sat down, and put his face in his hands.
“But school is really hard,” he said. “Do you think I can learn all my letters and all my numbers and everything?”
“Yes!” Mom said. “School is a good place to learn. You’re not supposed to know everything already. By the end of the year I think you will be surprised at all the hard things you can do.”
“Really? You think I can do it?”
“What do you think?” Mom asked.
Jon grabbed his little sister’s hand and pulled her up to stand. “I think I can do hard things.”