Gospel Story Finder

Besides bringing their family closer, working together has also prepared the Schwieder children for the challenges of life. For example, Jay was already characterized as a hard worker by the time he arrived at the Washington Tacoma Mission because the mission president heard that he grew up working on a farm.
“I decided that if that is what he thinks, then I’d better work hard,” Jay says.

As I began studying the Book of Mormon for seminary, I experienced the feelings Elder Parley P. Pratt (1807–57) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles described when he first found the Book of Mormon. “I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page,” he wrote. “I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [1985], 18).

On a vacation, I was traveling by ship down the Volga River in Russia, far from any LDS chapel. That Sunday I had planned to read the Book of Mormon alone in my cabin.
My plans changed when I found out the ship was leased for summer tours to a Latter-day Saint family. With permission from their Church leaders, they had scheduled a worship service for LDS passengers, including several Russian Latter-day Saints traveling on the ship. I was asked to bless the sacrament.
Later that morning when I entered the music salon where the meeting would be held, my anxious heart rested as I saw other young men in ties and young women in dresses. I looked around for something resembling a sacrament table. To my right, I noticed a white tablecloth from the dining hall had been spread over the piano bench. The bread and water trays sat on the white linen. Brother Wakefield, who had asked me to bless the sacrament, introduced me to a young man about two inches taller than I am.
“This is Sergei,” Brother Wakefield said. “He will bless with you.”
Sergei, from Moscow, had just completed his service in the militia. He had met two missionaries in the subway. That eventually led to his baptism.
“Dobray Dien!” I said, practicing what little Russian I had learned.
“Dobray Dien,” he responded with a chuckle.
“Minyah Savoot, William,” I said, introducing myself.
“Minyah Savoot, Sergei.”
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“A little.”
He pulled out a small white sheet of paper—tattered and used—and unfolded it. It was a definition sheet of LDS religious terms. He pointed to the word sacrament as if to communicate our role in the worship service. I nodded. With a concerned look, he then pointed to the word bread and he pointed to himself.
“Me, bread?” he asked.
Then he pointed to the word water and then pointed to me, and I understood. He would bless the bread. I would bless the water. He seemed eager and confident.
“Da,” I said in Russian, agreeing with his plan. “Me, water.”
The music had begun and a young man, Vladimir, led the congregation in “Come, Come, Ye Saints.” The curtains had been drawn and through the windows we saw a panoramic view of Russia’s countryside.
Sergei’s copy of the Book of Mormon was well used, and it excited me that he had been reading his Russian scriptures. He thumbed through the Book of Mormon for the sacrament prayer.
We stood and broke the homemade Russian sourdough bread. I could hear the congregation singing “I Stand All Amazed,” half singing in Russian and the other half in English. No one had hymnbooks, so we sang from memory. I was impressed to hear the combination of Russian and English—as if our voices were creating a new language.
When the hymn ended, I knelt with Sergei on the floating ship. Our knees rested on the floor, and I could feel a slight rocking of the ship. The congregation bowed their heads. Sergei began saying the prayer in Russian.
I felt the Spirit of God enter my heart and burn through my chest. Here, on a ship far from our homes and families, Sergei and I were two people the same age, from different continents, speaking different languages, and feeling the same Spirit. I understood the words he spoke, clearly and peacefully. I felt solemnity fill my mind.
After wiping a few tears from my eyes, I stood with Sergei and we passed the bread trays to three young priesthood holders, who then passed the bread to the congregation.
A few minutes later, I blessed the water in English, saying the prayer with more conviction than ever before. I felt as if I were actually speaking to the Lord. My heart swelled with joy as I said amen and stood to serve the water trays.
That day, Sergei and I had come together to do the Lord’s work. We had blessed the emblems Christ instituted just before his death and sacrifice. Sergei had spoken Russian. I had spoken English. But for all of us who were present, the language spoken was the Spirit.

There was a tornado where I live. I prayed that it wouldn’t hit our house. In the morning, we saw branches everywhere! People from our ward came and helped clean up. I thanked Heavenly Father for helping us be safe.
Rhett B., age 12, Wisconsin, USA

As a boy, David O. McKay wanted to know for himself that Joseph Smith was a prophet. One day while looking for cattle, he got off his horse and knelt under a serviceberry bush.
He asked Heavenly Father for a spiritual witness, then waited for something wonderful to happen. Nothing did.
David: If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same “old boy” that I was before I prayed.
Disappointed, he got back on his horse and rode away.

Illustration by Dilleen Marsh
I’d always been somewhat confused about prayer, especially growing up with parents of separate religions. With such confusion, I didn’t have a testimony and I didn’t feel like I could trust what I heard about prayer, because everyone seemed to believe something different.
I especially struggled with this when I started at a new school with no friends and no stable family or belief system to keep me rooted. I floundered for a long time and, with uncertainty and confusion, became really depressed. As it worsened, I felt so lost and far from my Heavenly Father. With everything going on within my family, it was easy to feel unworthy of love or compassion.
I’d prayed before that things would get better in my family, but they didn’t seem to. I thought that if Heavenly Father really answered prayers for other people, then I must not be worthy of having my prayers answered, because nothing changed in my family. In fact, things got worse.
I thought that maybe I didn’t deserve answered prayers since I was so confused about what to believe. How could I expect Heavenly Father to answer me when I didn’t feel like I knew Him very well? In my eyes, I deserved to drift because it seemed I couldn’t figure out what the right thing was. I thought I’d stumbled too many times and that—for that reason—I wouldn’t be given answers.
So I stopped praying, partly out of anger and partly because I didn’t feel worthy to. I slipped further into despair until I no longer had a desire to keep going. I really felt like I didn’t matter. I was at the end of my rope, feeling utterly worthless, when I finally turned to Heavenly Father.
“What’s the point?” I asked. “Why should I go on?”
Suddenly I felt something I’d never felt before. Despite the hurtful things I’d believed about myself, I knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me. They always had, and nothing I’d done had driven them away. I knew that Christ is my Savior, something I’d had a hard time believing before. I remember hearing the words “You are loved.” I’d never before felt like I could say that I knew anything with certainty. At least not until then. I knew that I was loved and valued and that I had eternal worth. I know that Jesus Christ and His Atonement are real and that He truly is my Savior. I’m grateful that even when I had turned my back on Them, He and our Heavenly Father were still there to lift me up once I was ready to reach for Them.

Several years ago, a young man who was in love with a beautiful girl sought my counsel. He was reluctant to marry her because her parents had fallen into apostasy. He said the girl’s mother had told him she knew the Church was false. When he asked how she knew that, she said a voice once whispered to her to go into a nearby bookstore. She did so and there found a bitter anti-Mormon book from whose reading she concluded that the Church was false. Had this sister understood the gospel, she should have prayed in secret, relating her experience and asking God to reveal whether her conclusion was correct, in the manner prescribed in the ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants (see D&C 9:8–9).

Sometimes those who have successfully faced and fought handicaps of their own are the most willing to help when others are in need. Kenneth Scott Robertson, a deacon from the Bennion Tenth Ward, Bennion Utah West Stake, is a good example of this. Kenneth has cerebral palsy, a disease affecting muscles and body coordination, and was advised that he would never walk. He recently overcame that prognosis, however, and walked away from his wheelchair. Soon after, he went door-to-door and secured pledges of ten cents to one dollar for each book he would read during the coming four-week period. This was in conjunction with the Multiple Sclerosis Read-A-Thon. Kenneth read 60 books and was able to raise $318 for the multiple sclerosis research efforts.
The young deacon comes from a family of nine children and participates each year in the Special Olympics and also in the Scouting program.

As we consider these sobering words of the Savior, we realize that there is something very peculiar about the state of mind or “heart” of the person who deliberately commits sin in the expectation that he or she will speedily and comfortably repent and continue as a servant of God, preaching repentance and asking others to come unto Christ. I will illustrate the peculiarity of this attitude with an analogy.
The mother of a large family is burdened almost past the point of endurance. Every waking hour is spent serving the needs of her large family: meals, mending, transporting, counseling, caring for those who are sick, comforting those who mourn, and administering to every other need a mother can understand. She has committed herself to do everything within her power to serve the needs of her children.
She is giving her life for them. The children know she will attempt to carry whatever load is placed upon her. Most of them are considerate and do all they can to minimize her burden. But some, knowing of her willingness to serve, heedlessly pile more and more tasks on the weary mother. “Don’t worry about it” is their attitude; “she’ll carry it. She said she would. Let Mom do it, and we’ll just have a good time.”
In this analogy, I am obviously likening the heedless children to those who sin in the expectation that someone else will bear the burden of suffering. The one who bears the burden is our Savior.

On a bright September day our youngest daughter, Erica, was in a serious car accident. She was flown to the hospital, and after hours of emergency surgery, we received the terrible news: our beautiful, vivacious, 17-year-old daughter had died.
The next few months were agony for us. We endured her birthday and Thanksgiving and braced ourselves for our first Christmas without her. People warned us that the holidays would be difficult, but no amount of warning could have prepared us.
Besides feeling overwhelming sorrow and despair, I was jealous of other families who were together and happily celebrating. I bitterly wondered, “Why us? Why weren’t we granted a miracle like the ones others speak about?”
At Christmas we celebrate the beginning of the Savior’s life on earth, but for me, His birth will now always be wrapped up with His suffering, death, and Resurrection—the Atonement. Because the Savior broke the bands of death, I know that Erica’s death will not be final. That is the miracle to be thankful for—the greatest miracle of all time.

Ken Bradford, 15, of Santa Fe, New Mexico, really made a difference by standing up for what he knew was right.
Ken had won two gold medals in wrestling and his coach told him he had an excellent chance of taking first place in his division at the state meet.
When Ken found out that part of the meet would be held on the Sabbath, he told his coach he would not be able to participate in the Sunday matches. Ken came in first in the Saturday matches, but he received the second-place medal in the meet because he did not finish the competition.
The following Monday, Ken’s coach said that he would change the rules so future tournaments would not be held on Sunday.

Now to the present for an interview I had with a handsome zone leader in the Brazil São Paulo Interlagos Mission. I said to the missionary, “Tell me about your family.” He then relayed the following. He was born into a wealthy family. His father had a responsible position in a multinational corporation. They moved from Brazil to Venezuela. He was one of seven children, all members of the Church.

When the missionary was fifteen years old, his father was shot and killed by a fleeing thief. In a family council it was decided to return to Brazil and invest their savings in the purchase of a small home. A year and a half later, the mother informed the children that she had been diagnosed with cancer. The family used valuable savings to help pay the medical expenses—but to no avail. Six months later the mother passed away, leaving the young family alone.

Our young missionary, Elder Bugs (pronounced Boogs), now sixteen years old, went to work, first selling clothing, then later computer supplies. He used his hard-earned money to support the young family. He said, “We were always blessed to have enough to eat. I would work during the day, then help the children with their studies at night. I especially miss my little sister. I taught her to read.”

Elder Bugs continued, “Then the bishop invited me to come in for an interview. He called me on a mission. I told him I would need to speak with my family first. In our family council, they reminded me that Dad had always taught us that we should be prepared to serve the Lord as full-time missionaries. I accepted the call. When I received my letter from the prophet, I withdrew all my savings. I bought a new suit, a pair of pants, white shirts and ties, and a new pair of shoes. I gave the rest of the money to the bishop (enough for about four months of support for the family). I hugged my little family and left for my mission.”

I looked at that brave young man and I said, “But Elder, with you away, who is taking care of your family?”
“Oh,” he said, “my brother is sixteen. He is the same age I was when our mother died. He is taking care of the family now.”

I had an opportunity recently to talk by telephone with Elder Bugs. He has been home from his mission for six months now. When I asked him how he was doing, he said, “I have a good job again and I am caring for the family, but oh, how I miss my mission. It was the greatest thing I have ever done. I am now helping my younger brother prepare for his mission.”

I remember walking home from church alone the day I became a deacon. I didn’t know much about the Holy Ghost then, but He bore witness to me as I walked home that I held the holy priesthood and that it was very important. I’ve never forgotten that.
Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ love you very much. Children are pure and close to Heavenly Father, and you can have incredibly powerful spiritual experiences, just like my experience as a deacon walking down the street. If you will remember these spiritual experiences throughout your lives, they will serve as a very strong foundation for future spiritual growth.

When I was a senior in high school, a good friend who had gone on to college was visiting at Christmas break. She told me that she wished she had been taught my standards as a child because it would have been much easier to keep from getting into trouble. She told me to hold on to my standards no matter what because they would keep me safe.

Elise wanted to dress up. She put on Dad’s shoes and a fake red nose.
I’m a funny clown.
Elise ran back to her room. She put on a yellow construction hat and grabbed a plastic hammer.
Elise hammered the floor before she ran back to her room.
I’m a strong builder.
Elise put on a glittery purple and silver gown and twirled out of her room.
Elise liked being a princess. She stayed dressed in her gown for the rest of the day.
I’m a beautiful princess.
At bedtime Elise changed into her favorite green pajamas. She walked out of her room and sat on Mom’s lap.
I am Elise. I am a child of God.

Desiree listened to her Primary teacher, Sister Ruiz, in wonder. She couldn’t believe what Sister Ruiz was saying. It seemed too good to be true. Desiree looked at the other children in her class. They didn’t seem to be as amazed as she was. Finally Desiree raised her hand. “Do you really mean it, Sister Ruiz? Would you really do anything for us?” she asked.
“Yes, Desiree.” The kind look in her teacher’s eyes, even more than her words, showed Desiree that she really meant it. But Desiree continued to wonder if it was really true. Maybe someday she would find out.
It wasn’t even a week later that Desiree was able to test her Primary teacher’s promise. One day when she came home from school, Desiree found a note taped to the front door and grabbed it. When she entered the house, no one answered her calls. The house was empty. A strange, spooky stillness surrounded her, making the hair on her neck prickle.
“Where are you, Mommy?” Desiree whispered as tears trickled down her face. She dropped her backpack on the couch and sat down next to it. Remembering the note in her hand, Desiree opened it. She recognized her mother’s handwriting, but the letters were joined together by slants. Her mother had forgotten that she couldn’t read cursive writing.
“I’ll do anything I can for you, because I love you.” The memory of her Primary teacher’s words came to Desiree’s mind. Maybe she couldn’t read cursive, but she could read typing and she could read numbers. She could find Sister Ruiz’s phone number and call her to ask for help.
When Sister Ruiz heard Desiree’s dilemma, she told her that she would be right over. To Desiree it seemed like a long time before she arrived, but even though Sister Ruiz lived in another town, she made the trip in just 10 minutes.
Desiree flung open the front door and ran down the sidewalk when she saw Sister Ruiz get out of her car. Through her tears, she handed her Primary teacher the note left by her mother.
Sister Ruiz read the note and smiled. “This says that your mommy is at your grandma’s house working on a quilt.”
Desiree suddenly remembered that her mother had told her to go to grandma’s house, just down the street, after school. She had left the note to remind Desiree but had forgotten to print it in letters Desiree could read.
“Do you want me to walk you to your grandma’s?” Sister Ruiz asked.
Desiree shook her head. She looked up at Sister Ruiz. “You drove all this way just to read a note. Thank you.”
Sister Ruiz smiled, and Desiree noticed that her eyes were glistening with tears. “This wasn’t much, Desiree. I’ll do anything I can for you.”
“It was a lot to me,” Desiree said.
Sister Ruiz hugged Desiree. “I’m glad you think so.”
Desiree carefully looked both ways before crossing the street and walking down to Grandma’s house. Sister Ruiz watched to make sure she arrived safely. Then she drove away.
“Where have you been?” Desiree’s mother asked when she walked in. “I was starting to get worried.”
“I just learned that my Primary teacher will come all the way to my house to read me a note.”
“Why didn’t you read it yourself?” Desiree’s mom asked.
“Because I can’t read cursive.”
Desiree’s mother’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I didn’t even think about it, Desiree. I’m sorry you had to call your teacher to help you.”
“That’s OK.” Desiree grinned. “My teacher said she was glad to do it, because she loves me.”

He knew they would be looking for him, so David scrunched down in his seat on the bench behind Brother Johnson. He figured the deacons quorum adviser wouldn’t be able to find him way back there, even though the chapel wasn’t very crowded and it would be difficult to remain unseen.
He knew if they found him he would be asked to pass the sacrament, and he didn’t want to. He was a priest now and tall enough to play on the high school basketball team. It was embarrassing to stand at the front of the chapel with the little 12-year-old deacons, who all seemed half his size.
His father had been watching him from the stand, and David felt his disapproval. Much to David’s surprise, however, he wasn’t asked to assist the deacons. Before anyone could ask him, Brother Hensley volunteered.
Brother Hensley was a new member of the Church, not much older than David, and recently ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood. Everyone had been excited to learn that he was taking the missionary discussions. He had been very popular in high school and was now attending college.
He stood tall alongside the deacons. He walked proudly and passed the sacred emblems with dignity.
Several members were talking to Brother Hensley in the foyer after the meeting. David couldn’t help overhearing their conversation, especially when he moved closer.
“Thanks for helping us out today,” someone was saying. “I hope it didn’t bother you to work with the young deacons.”
“Not at all,” David was surprised to hear him say. “I consider it a great honor. You know who the first person to ever pass the sacrament was, don’t you?” Then answering his own question, he continued. “It was Jesus Christ—when He passed the sacrament of the Last Supper to His Apostles. It is my understanding that our apostles and prophets today administer and pass the sacrament to one another just as we did today. I guess if they consider passing the sacrament a privilege, well, so do I.”
David moved on quietly as he reflected upon what he had just heard. He decided he would sit in plain sight the following Sunday. He would sit where they could find him.

Nearly 30 years ago I desired to attend a general conference of the Church and drove 14 hours to be in Salt Lake City for the conference. I entered Temple Square at 8:00 A.M., where the line outside door number 10 was all the way across Temple Square and halfway down the south side of the Assembly Hall. I was nearly 300 feet from my goal. The usher called out that the Tabernacle was full. People dropped out of line, and I inched forward.
At five minutes before 10:00 I was the only person standing in front of my chosen door. The door opened, and the usher said, “Are you still here?” He closed the door, and my heart sank. As the choir began to sing the opening hymn at 10:00 sharp, the door opened one more time, and the usher beckoned me inside. He placed me on half a seat and behind a post, but a welcome seat it was! I was able to sustain the Lord’s chosen leaders and hear their counsel that special day.

When I was in high school, I thought I wasn’t as valuable a disciple of Jesus Christ because I struggled with talking to people. I wasn’t just introverted—I was severely shy! I was so shy I had a difficult time making friends and being my true self around my classmates at school and at church.
Because of that, I shied away from callings in Young Women and felt like I couldn’t be as spiritual as my peers who were a lot more talkative and social than I was.
So when I graduated from high school and decided to serve a mission, I was terrified!
I felt like God wanted me to serve, but my first thought was, “Why does God want someone like me to serve? I can’t talk to people!”
But as scared as I was, I decided to trust God and serve a mission anyway.
As I served, things were difficult at first, but as I continued to try (and to let myself fail), I found that the Lord strengthened me to do the work He asked me to do.
In the Book of Mormon the Lord says: “If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).
On my mission I realized that Jesus Christ could do wonderful things with me not because of my strength but because of His. And I also realized that His strength didn’t come to me just because I was a missionary, but it was also something that I could have relied on in high school.
The wonderful thing about Jesus Christ is that we don’t need degrees or extensive résumés to serve in His kingdom and be strong disciples! If we are humble and sincere in our desires to serve, Jesus Christ will take us exactly as we are, where we are, and give us the necessary help and strength to serve Him.

I was taught more about the spirit of tithing by President Henry D. Moyle, who lived in my ward when I was serving as a young bishop. One tithing settlement, President Moyle came in and declared, “Bishop, this is a full tithe and a little bit more, because that’s the way we have been blessed.”