Gospel Story Finder

As I was leaving one of our Church buildings in Montevideo, Uruguay—10 minutes away from the temple construction site—I received a call from my wife telling me that soon the statue of the angel Moroni would be placed on the spire of the temple. Many feelings came into my heart as I listened to the anxious voice of my wife asking me to come get her and our son so we could witness this event. There wasn’t much time left. I had to travel to the other end of the city and then return to the temple.
Our hearts beat rapidly and the minutes seemed like hours as we traveled. The heavy traffic almost wouldn’t let us through, but we finally arrived, thanks to the Lord’s help.
The weather had been gray, rainy, and moderately windy for several days. But this afternoon the sky was a clear, calm blue, and the sun’s rays fell upon our heads like the blessings of heaven.
When we arrived we found several other members who had also come to witness this important milestone in the history of the Church in Uruguay. Several members, among them my wife’s mother, were Church pioneers in our country. Their eyes filled with tears as they enjoyed the blessing—so long awaited—of seeing the construction of a temple here.
The sacrifice of many people who had spread the gospel was given symbolic expression in the brilliant sheen of the angel Moroni as he seemed to fly through the sky and then come to rest in a place of honor. There he announced to the world the Restoration of the everlasting gospel and the opening of the doors of a country that needed the Lord’s helping hand to progress.
We saw the statue, straight and majestic, reach its intended place, reminding us of the love of the Eternal Father, which would soon allow us to be sealed together in love in our own land. We hope that our children and grandchildren will go into the temple and make sacred covenants and be a blessing to the country.
We knew that there was much left to do—both before and after the temple’s dedication in March 2001. We needed to prepare for the times still to come, and above all else, we needed to remember our ancestors, because they also would be blessed by this holy house. But we will never forget that beautiful September day. Our hearts overflowed with gratitude that we were allowed to witness the placing of a symbol of our Heavenly Father’s love.

Listen to José and a powerful experience he had while growing up.

This was when I was nine years old. I was in a Catholic elementary school. It was run by nuns. They were very, very strict, and I remember one day during recess that I was playing soccer in the yard and I kicked the ball and hit a window and broke the window. It was very scary at the time. One of the nuns came out and she yelled at me—she reprimanded me very harshly and told me to go home and tell my parents what had happened. I remember walking very, very slowly, scared, and trying not to get there. But I was very, very scared, and when I finally got there, my mom opened the door and I think she noticed how scared I was. I was pale and just looking terrible, and I told her what had happened, that I had kicked the ball and broken a window. I was just expecting her to do the same thing that the nun had done to me, just reprimand me.

Note how José’s mother reacted to him.

But instead, she told me not to worry about it and she hugged me, and I felt a sense of relief and also of appreciation for having a mother that would understand and put her love for me above my mistakes.

These funny boys are serious about choosing the right and serving others. When their grandpa had cancer, they not only prayed for his recovery but also rolled up their sleeves and took care of his garden. They grew corn, cucumbers, broccoli, chili peppers, onions, peas, tomatoes, beets, some odd-looking carrots, and three pumpkins destined to become jack-o’-lanterns. The eggplants died, but nobody minded much, because Grandpa lived.

There was a recent court case called “Infant Doe.” It took place in a midwestern state. Infant Doe—you notice how lawyers tend to divorce all passion, all emotion and meaning from things—calling him “Infant Doe.” This little child had parents with names. I guess he himself never got a name, though. He was born a mongoloid child, retarded, but no one knows how severely. You do not find out the degree of severity until the child gets older.

Infant Doe also had a correctable physical defect. His esophagus was not connected to his stomach, and he couldn’t eat. So the doctor said, “We’ll go in, do an operation, and connect the esophagus to the stomach. It’s a serious operation, but it can be done.”

The parents said, “Wait a minute. This child is retarded. It would be better if he didn’t live, so we don’t want you to perform this operation.” And, of course, the doctor could not operate without their consent.

Some well-meaning people said, “We’ll go to court and get an order that forces them to let the child have the operation.” They went to court, and, to the disgrace of the American judicial system, the court said, “We cannot order this.”

So Infant Doe died. What was his crime to deserve capital punishment? He was retarded. What was it his parents didn’t want? “It would have been inconvenient,” their lawyer said. “It would have been inconvenient to raise this child. This child wouldn’t have the same quality of life others have.” What do we know about quality of life? Does a bird have no quality of life because it doesn’t think like a man? No, it is a finished work as the God of heaven intended and its life has all the quality God assigned to it.

What do we know about a retarded child’s quality of life unless we can be that child? Many retarded children are happier and more loving than the so-called “normal child.”

We cannot know what Infant Doe’s quality of life might have been, but we do know the difference between life and death. So his parents never made the sacrifice that would have taught them to love Infant Doe. Thoreau said that every deed goes into the great sea of cause and effect and remains there throughout eternity. Who knows what effect that one death has on the quality of life of all the people in this generation and those to come?

When I was quite young, I heard a talk given by a leader in the Church. I do not remember who he was or even the setting of the talk. Although I cannot give proper credit to him, I think he would be glad to know that an idea remained with me. He said he asked for forgiveness from the Lord every day and that he needed to repent every day. It may surprise you to know that I just did not get that, at all. I couldn’t really comprehend that the person who was speaking would actually be doing anything for which he needed to repent of every day. At the time, I had a very simple understanding of sin and I thought repentance was just for serious problems. I also thought that it was very uncomfortable and unpleasant to go through, so I certainly did not want to subject myself to it on a daily basis; I cringed at the thought. Even though I could not really accept what I had heard, the idea didn’t go away. It bugged me from time to time through my teenage years and into my early twenties, and I’m using the term “bugged” intentionally. I would like you to think about what it feels like to have a little ant or bug crawling somewhere on your skin. It’s not harmful, but it really gets your attention, and then you swat it away as fast as you can. That is what this idea was like for me. Then I learned more about Jesus Christ, the gift of his Atonement, the purpose of repentance, and the miracle of forgiveness. I learned more about a lot of things. I came to know that my Heavenly Father does live and he loves me and wants me to be able to return to him. I came to know that Jesus Christ does live and he loves me so much that he would atone for my sins and he would redeem me. I learned more about the gift of the Holy Ghost and why this is a truly priceless gift. The Holy Ghost can reveal to us the truth of our actions so that we may see every day the things we need to correct and the faults within ourselves that we must mend as we try to be like Jesus. The longer and more consistently we invite the tutoring of the Holy Ghost, the more refined our vision of ourselves becomes and our sensitivity to what is right and what is wrong is greatly increased.
So, in this life we may never run out of things to correct through repentance as the Holy Ghost diligently works to help us try to become more and more like Jesus. The idea that speaker left with me doesn’t “bug” me anymore. It comes back to me all the time, but now I welcome it like a brilliant little butterfly landing on my outstretched hand. In other words, I don’t swat it away but take great delight in it. The concept of frequent, sincere repentance and personal reflection has become beautiful to me. And, I do need it daily because I am mindful of things now that I didn’t used to be mindful of. I think when I am a little white-haired and wrinkly lady that I will still be refining myself through repentance. I hope by then I’ll be a righteous example in everything I do and say and think, but I’ll probably still have things to work on within myself. I’m sure I’ll still be learning the things we have all come here to learn. I hope I will make progress and prepare every day of my life for the moment when I meet my elder brother and Savior again. I don’t know when that moment will come. I want to be ready. I don’t want to be afraid to see him. I just want to be happy to see him again. I want to be able to look into his eyes and see joy. What do you want that moment to be like?

I remember the many times my dear mother trusted in our Heavenly Father for my safety. I played quarterback at East High School in Salt Lake City and running back at the University of Utah. During all that time I don’t think my mother ever stopped praying for my safety. She trusted in our Father in Heaven, depending on Him to protect me from major injury during the games. Although I had my share of bumps and bruises, I never had a major injury.

I suppose my mother breathed a sigh of relief when I told her I was going to leave the football field for a season. I met with my beloved bishop, Marion G. Romney, to express a desire to serve a full-time mission. But that short, worry-free season soon ended when I was called to serve in the German-Austrian Mission. Three months after I arrived in Salzburg, the name of the mission was changed to the Swiss-Austrian Mission.

The year was 1937. I arrived in Salzburg, Austria, at the very time Hitler was amassing 300,000 troops on the border for the Anschluss, his invasion of Austria.

My mother and father gathered the family to kneel in prayer morning and night and pled for my safety. I know that I felt the influence of those prayers. I trusted my Heavenly Father would hear their prayers. I trusted in my prayers that He would preserve my life.

A month before Hitler invaded Austria, I was transferred to Switzerland. My testimony is that our prayers had been answered.

Recently Tyler received his own set of scriptures. He asks his father to read the scriptures to him every night, even though his family also reads the scriptures together each morning. One day he took his new Doctrine and Covenants over to a friend’s house to show it to him. Tyler asked his friend, “Where’s yours?” His friend, a nonmember, said, “I don’t have one of those books.” Tyler replied, “Maybe you can get one. These are important covenants.”

An example of true love and inspired teaching was found in the life of the late James Collier, who had through his personal efforts reactivated a large number of brethren in Bountiful, Utah. I was invited by Brother Collier to address those who had now been ordained elders and who, with their wives and families, had been to the Salt Lake Temple to receive those eternal covenants and blessings for which they had so earnestly strived.

At the banquet honoring this achievement, I could see and I could feel the love that Jim had for those whom he had taught and rescued and the love they had for him. Unfortunately, Jim Collier at that time was afflicted with a terminal illness and had to persuade the doctors to allow him to leave the hospital to attend this final night of recognition.

As Jim stood at the pulpit, a large smile came over his face. With emotion he expressed his love to the group. There wasn’t a dry eye to be found. Brother Collier quipped, “Everyone wants to go to the celestial kingdom, but no one wants to die to get there.” Then, lowering his voice, Jim continued, “I’m prepared to go, and I will be there waiting on the other side to greet each of you, my beloved friends.”

Jim returned to the hospital. His funeral service was held just a short time later.

While recognition is a basic human need and is important in public service, there are those who do too many things “to be seen of men.” I had the privilege of seeing this on a grand scale in the U.S. Senate where there seems to be an imbalance between the showhorses and workhorses. I can remember vividly standing next to Lyndon Johnson one day in a Senate chamber anteroom as we both read a ticker tape with a news story about a major bill coming out of a Senate committee after months of labor. One senator who had not been attending the sessions while hearings were being held and tedious testimony was being taken, had managed, nevertheless, to show up the day the bill was reported out to take his bows before waiting TV cameras. He was one of those senators who would show up for the opening of an envelope. The man at my side, later to be President, mentioned his disgust for the showhorse senator who let others do the work while he took the bows. So often in human affairs, the many depend on the few to lead, to set the pace, and to show the way. It was so even in the inspired sessions of the Constitutional Convention of 1787. I’m grateful to have received in diverse ways that insight in my 20s.

One friend told me of an experience he had with his father more than 40 years earlier, when he was a teenager. My friend played on the high school basketball team in a small, predominantly Latter-day Saint town in Wyoming. One night a few of the other basketball players got into some trouble. Later my friend’s father said to him, “It’s sad that this happened. I know if you had been there, you would never have allowed such a thing to occur.” This statement of trust expanded the boy’s trust limit with his father as nothing else ever did. It was suddenly easier to talk to his father about matters that demanded trust.

When Lexie’s grandmother visited the Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, last year, she learned about the poor conditions for newborn babies in many parts of the world. “Grandma told me that babies were being brought home wrapped in newspapers, and I just thought, ‘What can I do?’” Lexie explains.
She set a goal to make them baby quilts. First, her grandma taught her how to use the sewing machine. Then they purchased batting and flannel decorated with pastel flowers, checked patterns, and bright smiley faces for babies to snuggle up in.
Lexie made her first quilt for her mom. She also gave one to her seven-year-old sister, Lillyn. Lillyn helped Lexie by tying the quilts—using a needle to sew yarn in neat rows across the whole blanket. Then she snipped between the stitches and tied knots so little puffs of yarn would stick up from the fabric. Lillyn had one problem with her task. “Sometimes when I poke a needle through the blanket, I poke myself!” she exclaims.
Lillyn helped in other ways, too. She went with Lexie, their grandma, and a cousin to deliver the blankets to the Humanitarian Center. There Lexie dropped the quilts into a big gray bin filled with blankets and quilts donated by other people. The Humanitarian Center sends these donated items to people in more than 100 countries.
Was reaching her goal worth so much time and work? “Yes,” Lexie insists, nodding quickly. “I know that I’m helping someone, and I feel very good about that.”

When my parents visited other wards for their Church service, they weren’t home on Sundays. Yet, even when we were alone, my brothers and sisters and I would get ourselves to church. We knew that we were expected to take the sacrament and do our part. People in the ward would ask my mother how she got us to go to church by ourselves. She would reply, “They just get up and go because that’s what they’re expected to do.”

7. Recognize the Hand of the Lord
Be humble and acknowledge the hand of the Lord. Look for miracles and write them down. I recorded this miracle in my journal a few years ago. “In 2019, my husband had his second stroke. He was life flighted to the University of Utah where we spent 8 days. While in the hospital, I had plenty of snacks to eat, but after a few days, I wanted a real meal. I walked down to the cafeteria, but nothing appealed to me. What I really wanted was a Subway sandwich. Instead of getting any food, I walked away and headed to my car in the parking garage to get some clean clothes. It was busy with vehicles and noisy with the sound of a helicopter taking off. All of a sudden, I heard a car honking right behind me. I quickly moved over and looked back at the car. There was my sweet daughter-in-law with her window down, and in her hand, she held out nothing other than a Subway sandwich for me.”
How could she have known and how could she have been there at that exact moment to meet me? She couldn’t have known, but the Lord knew and He poured His love out on me with that simple act of love. I have felt His love many times in my life and know He is aware of me even with my many inadequacies. We need to take notice of His little tender mercies and expressions of love in our lives.

Bro. Tew: Many years ago after I had moved away from home and graduated from college, but before I met Donnette, I called my parents to tell them that I felt I had not really accomplished anything notable in my life. My mother wrote down a list of things from my life she thought were notable. My father added to the list; then they mailed it to me. After I read the list, I said, "That's right. That has happened. And so has that! Maybe there have been lots of worthwhile events in my life after all." My parents say that my optimism improved after that. I have watched the fervent prayers my mother has given in my behalf. I know that those prayers continue even when I do not see them. I feel of their strength, and sometimes today when I have something difficult to deal with, such as preparing for this devotional, I ask for my parents' prayers because of the strength I feel from them.

Heavenly Father knows our individual journeys are not easy. We are faced every day with situations that require courage and strength. A recent story in the Church News affirms this truth:
““A teacher in a high school a few months ago began her instruction one day by asking students who supported a political issue to stand on one side of the room, while those who opposed it were instructed to stand on the other side.
““After students had formed their sides, the teacher took her stance on the opposing side. Singling out one young woman on the side of the supporters, the teacher commenced an attack on her and the other classmates for their views.
““The young woman, who was a Mia Maid in her ward, absorbed the assault that criticized her beliefs.
““[She remained] calm in the face of a public attack leveled by someone in authority” (“What Youth Need,” Church News, Mar. 6, 2010, 16).
This young woman showed remarkable courage on her own battlefield, which on this day happened to be her school classroom. Wherever you are and whatever you may face, I hope you will take advantage of the guides found in the book of Joshua so that you can trust in the Lord’s promise: “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest” (Joshua 1:9).
I want to leave you with my testimony that Heavenly Father knows and loves each of you. If you turn to Him, He will not fail you! He will bless you with the strength and the courage you will need to complete your journey back to Him. I am grateful for the scriptures and for powerful examples like the prophet Joshua. I am grateful for President Monson, who strives to lead us safely back to our Heavenly Father. I pray that, like the children of Israel, we will all enter our “land of promise” and find rest in the blessings of the Lord. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I remember two simple events that happened when I was a little girl. Each shows how the Spirit touches hearts in special ways no matter our age.
The first experience happened when my brother was sick. My father called a man from our ward to come to our home and help give a priesthood blessing. As our family gathered before the blessing, the man suggested that we children should leave because we might disrupt the spirit of the blessing. My father replied gently that it was important that each child be present during the blessing because our pure faith was needed. Even at that young age, I not only felt the presence of the Spirit, but I also sensed the great love my father had for his children. My father’s love helped me believe in and understand Heavenly Father’s love for me.
A few years later, our family participated in sacrament meeting. My mother was a gifted musician. However, she gave my sisters and me the opportunity to sing instead of her. I clearly remember the song she was inspired to have us sing:
I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How He called little children like lambs to His fold;
I should like to have been with Him then.
(“I Think When I Read That Sweet Story,” Children’s Songbook, 56)
As my sisters and I sang the song, I felt warm and happy inside. My tender testimony was strengthened as the Holy Ghost helped me feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ loved me.
How grateful I am for the blessing of the Holy Ghost and the love of my parents and my Father in Heaven.

Many years ago, I served a mission in Southern Germany. One morning early in my mission, I knelt in prayer to ask my Heavenly Father for help. I was discouraged and worried, unsure of myself, and troubled by fears and doubts. I pleaded with the Lord for relief, for help, and for guidance. As I prayed, I heard a voice, as clear as if someone were standing by my side, say to me: "Believe in God." I looked up but only saw my companion across the room fixing breakfast. I said to him, "Is there a scripture somewhere that says, 'Believe in God'?" In an offhand way he said, "Oh yeah. Mosiah chapter 4, verse 9."
I sat on the bed, opened the Book of Mormon and read that scripture:
Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.
As I read that verse, the Spirit bore a powerful witness of its truth. I had my answer.
In an hour of intense need, in a time of trial, I received reassurance of the Savior's love, mercy, and grace, along with divine counsel for a lifetime: when you are in tough situations, when you face important decisions, when you need to repent, when you are discouraged or lonely or afraid, turn to Christ. Act with faith and humility to seek the blessings of His Atonement in your life.

Many years ago while my children were very young, the nighttime bottles and the daytime diapers seemed as endless as the frozen ground outside our military apartment. When I feel sorry for myself, it helps me to do something for someone else. That winter my need was great, so I needed a grand solution. I decided to make a sport coat for my husband. Having no experience in tailoring, I began by finding the best pattern and materials on the market. With great enthusiasm I took out the pattern guide. My heart nearly failed me. There were pages of instructions—138 steps, as I remember. It was beyond my ability. The next few days I took that pattern everywhere I went. I decided to work on no more than two steps per day so I wouldn’t get discouraged. When two steps were completed, I would read the directions for the next day’s task. Occasionally I got overanxious and had to unpick, but fortunately mistakes in good materials don’t remain if they are carefully removed. A few months later I had created a masterpiece. The pattern had made the miracle possible. Patterns had become very important to me.

I can remember when I first discovered that the thoughts inside my head came to me as pictures. From a young age, I found that it was easier for me and more natural for me to express myself visually rather than practically. For example, if you asked me how I felt about a certain food, I might tell you that donuts taste like sunshine and that salads tastes like sadness. When something is yellow, my mind instinctively conjures the image of a lemon. And as a result, when discussing ideas and concepts related to that color, my thoughts often lead me to associations with citrus. What I initially thought was just a personal quirk over time revealed itself to be a gift that I came to recognize was deeply connected to my love of reading and writing. As a young woman, I would spend hours writing short stories that not only eventually helped me to learn how to express myself better but also allowed me to cultivate my love of words. Words weren’t just tools for clear communication in my native language; they were also the way to convey the emotion of my meaning because, for me, words always carried the power to paint vivid pictures. My hope was always that by using sensory or illustrative language I could help others understand the message I was trying to share.
Later in life when I embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ, I discovered that this gift opened the way for the highest and most joyful expression of my ability to communicate. I realized that my voice, my thoughts, and my feelings were expressed most authentically when I used them for two sacred purposes: first, to bear witness of my love and devotion to Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ; and second, to express my love and care to others. I have felt the Lord’s Spirit and His power in my life as I share my witness of Him and His gospel. As I seek to use my gifts with even greater purpose, I find that the Savior guides me closer to Him and helps me realize that my gift is not accidental, nor incidental.

Another unusual experience happened many years ago. My wife was the ward president of the YWMIA in the Valley View Sixth Ward, and I served as the stake mission president. On the 24th of July at 5:30 A.M. the experience took place. Our bedroom window was at ground level, and as usual it was open through the night. My side of the bed was near the open window. All of a sudden there was the terrible blast of a bugle playing “Reveille” through the window. I jumped out of bed and stood at attention. When the bugle finished playing, one of the girls who was part of the group outside the window said, “We would now like to have an opening prayer,” so I stood there, and bowed my head, and an opening prayer was given. Then we sang an opening hymn, and the person conducting said, “We would be pleased now to have two talks about our pioneer forefathers. They will be delivered by __________ and __________,” two of the girls in the ward. At the close of the talks she said, “We’ll now have a closing hymn,” and so I sang the hymn along with them, and then we had a closing prayer and they left. I looked over at my wife who had stayed in bed and who had listened to this entire presentation. She had a big smile on her face and had enjoyed every minute of it. I said to her, “What did we just go through?” to which she replied, “We have just had a special sunrise service in commemoration of the 24th of July.” I climbed back in bed and thought about this great woman by my side who felt highly honored, who understood, and had such a love for the young women in our ward.