Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago in one of the courtrooms of Utah a divorce case was called for a hearing. One of the participating attorneys, indignant and incensed, took the witness stand to bring forward to the court the fact that the husband and the wife the night before had reconciled and composed their differences. He urged that because of the reconciliation his adversary was unprincipled, unfair, and unethical now to come into court. The judge turned to the other attorney who had been maligned and asked him if he were going to take the witness stand to refute the allegations against his character. The defamed attorney, a wise and experienced counselor, said: “Oh, no, your honor. I’m not going to take that witness stand. He might be able to prove all those allegations against me.” The courtroom broke into laughter, the tension was broken, and all things got put into their proper place.

Not long ago, while riding in a plane, I talked with a young man who was seated beside me. We moved from one subject to another, and then came to the matter of religion. He said he had read considerably about the Mormons, had found much to admire, but that he had a definite prejudice concerning the origin of the Church and particularly Joseph Smith.

He was an active member of another religion, and when I asked where he had acquired his information about the LDS church, he indicated it had come from publications of his church. I asked what company he worked for. He proudly replied that he was a sales representative for IBM. I then asked whether he would think it fair for his customers to learn of the qualities of IBM products from a Xerox representative. He replied with a smile, “I think I get the point.”

I took from my case a copy of the Doctrine and Covenants and read to him the words of the Lord expressed through Joseph Smith, words which are the source of those practices my friend had come to admire in us while disdaining the man through whom they had come. Before we parted, he agreed to read the literature I would send to him. I promised him that if he would do so prayerfully he would know the truth not only of these doctrines and practices which have interested him, but also of the man through whom they were introduced. I then gave him my testimony concerning the prophetic calling of Joseph Smith.

We have had an endless problem in our class and in the stake—what service project could we do that is truly a service and not just a fun activity? There is always the orange grove assignment, or pulling weeds at the chapel grounds, or tying a quilt for someone special in the ward, or playing sub for Santa at Christmas, or whatever else we might finally think of that would seem appropriate. It has appeared that other wards are sharing our same dilemma. How do we find a service to which we may be strongly committed? It’s difficult to find a project requiring sacrifice, effort, time, and yes, eventually the feeling of joy that can only come from doing something that brings to others happiness, help, and a feeling that there are others who care about them.
This project all began on a serious and sad mood. Reading the paper one day, I discovered an article about a 14-year-old boy, Alvie Peters, suffering from leukemia and badly needing blood to replace the massive amounts he needed to sustain his life. I soon realized that I knew this young man, not personally, but through my family in Idaho. When it became more personal to me, I began to wonder what I could do that might help. I could not think of anything. Then I remembered the news item was a plea for blood. Maybe my Laurel class would like to donate blood as a service. Upon investigation I learned that to donate blood one must be 17 years old and have parents’ consent. Well, that would eliminate half my class, who were still 16. And, some of the 17-year-olds would be eliminated because of the requirement that all donors weigh a minimum of 110 pounds. Something kept at me. There had to be something we could do! Then, the thought struck me. Why not have our own blood drive and donate all the blood to Alvie. It would be a lot of work, but then most worthwhile things are.
I made some preliminary calls to gather some information before I presented it to Diane, the Laurel class president. Diane was interested, but I sensed she felt the enormity of this sort of undertaking and was silently questioning her ability to handle it. (To get 150 donor commitments before a bloodmobile unit would come would not be an easy task. We’d need to get help outside our ward. We needed all the Laurels and Explorers in the stake.) But, knowing how great her leadership abilities were, I encouraged her and expressed my confidence in her. We approached Bishop Campbell with our idea. Again, I sensed some reluctance because it was such a huge responsibility. But, being the supportive bishop that he is, he outlined what had to be done before we could proceed.
I had to contact my stake counterpart, Sister Peterson, who had to contact Brother Bawden, one of the high councilors, who had to contact our stake president. The word came back quickly that it had taken President Nielson about ten seconds to give us his blessing to use the cultural hall and proceed. In the meantime, Sister Brown had been approached as our specialist. She was selected because of her experience with the stake Relief Society blood drive. Her counsel, advice, and help proved to be invaluable. It looked as though we could proceed. Time was of the essence because of how far Alvie’s disease had progressed.
The phoning began. All the ward Laurel presidents had to be called. Coordination with the Red Cross had to be initiated. Publicity was needed. Why not attend our city council meeting and seek their support? So, the Laurel class of our ward and Darla, the stake Laurel representative, attended the next meeting. What an experience that was! We were at the bottom of the agenda. After we had sat there for nearly two hours, I began to fidget. The girls were so tired. (These girls are at seminary at 6:00 A.M. every morning, and here it was 10:00 P.M.) Darla, our spokesman, also had all that time to have her apprehension grow in approaching those formidable looking gentlemen. She did a super job! She explained our project, asked for their endorsement so that we might use their names in advertising, asked them to declare May 3 as Alvie Peters’ Day in Fountain Valley, and ended her plea by asking them if they would like to contribute their blood. There were a few chuckles over that. The former mayor saw a special humor in it. He looked at Darla and said smilingly, “There have been a lot of people after our blood. It looks as though they are finally going to get it.” The present mayor, quickly and without hesitation, offered all and any help to the girls. They left in high spirits. I believe this was the moment they caught real enthusiasm for the project, and it spread like a contagious disease to all those with whom they worked.
Sister Kennedy, one of the sisters in our ward, belongs to the South Coast Junior Women’s Club. She expressed a desire to help. Diane and the girls decided to ask this group to take charge of the publicity and furnish orange juice for the donors. Our girls would make the cookies that would be needed.
Everyone seemed to want to get involved, even those who were ineligible to donate blood. The day of the blood drive came, and girls eagerly arrived to help fill all the positions—receptionists, typists, donor-room aids, callers, canteen workers, kitchen help, phone committee, and hall monitors to avoid interference with the Primary meeting in session. And there were the girls like Liz who spent countless hours in recruitment, scheduling of appointments, and then following up again to make sure everyone would remember to come.
And the lessons of the day continued right up to the end. My one concern was that our clean-up committee of priests would not be there to do the assignment. Cleaning up is always so unappealing. Yet, more came for this job than were assigned. Those tremendous young men had the equipment loaded and the cultural hall “spiffed up” in no time. I wanted to hug them, and I don’t even know their names.
And now that it’s all over, I continue to think of Alvie. Alvie, you did not live long enough to use this blood that was so willingly given to aid you. You died the next afternoon. Be assured this blood will help another with the same dreadful disease. Your 14 years on this earth were short; but your life has touched so many, so very many. You have helped us to learn a little more about service, a little more about love.

I live in Lagos, Nigeria. When I was 13 years old, a missionary couple, Elder and Sister Grimshaw, started visiting us. They taught us the gospel, and at first I was unreceptive.
As time went on, I started listening attentively to them and asked questions which they answered satisfactorily. Yet I still did not believe them and planned to refuse baptism. On the day of our last discussion, they asked us to pray sincerely about what they had taught us. This touched me so much that I decided to be baptized with my family.
After baptism, I started studying the Book of Mormon, with frequent fasting and prayer. I did not feel bold talking to people, but as I studied, I began to feel a strong desire to lead a righteous life.
After completing the Book of Mormon, my testimony became very strong and a sudden desire to share the gospel came upon me. I started feeling the spirit of peace within me. I started telling my friends about the Church with boldness unlike before. My testimony grew so much I began to share it at fast and testimony Sunday.
My family was overwhelmed at my spiritual growth, and joy filled their hearts. All this happened two years after I joined the Church. The fear and shyness I used to have suddenly fled away. I was convinced that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth this day.

About 8,000 Southeast Asian refugees live in Utah, with about fifty to one hundred new refugees arriving every month. Donald and Irene Jones, of Mesa, Arizona, are a welfare services missionary couple who labor among the Cambodian refugees. Elder Jones relates that “about thirty percent of the people we help with clothing, furniture, food, and job-training are not members of the Church. Helping people often opens the door to teaching the gospel.”

One such conversion story is that of Sakhan Lay, who was a school teacher in Cambodia. When the government fell, her family was separated and she was sent to a prison camp. Twice she faced a firing squad, but her life was spared. Miraculously she escaped, and was able to locate her children who had fled to Thailand. A Latter-day Saint Cambodian family living in Utah sponsored the Lays so that they could come to Salt Lake City. They have since joined the Church, and Sister Lay is now working as a social worker among her people.

One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos family joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father that if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you promise something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.

Some time ago a high school senior and student body leader was asked about his relationship to his peer group. This young man said, “I find great strength in the example of my peers. To get up and walk out of an offensive movie, to stand up and defend or even befriend a person whom everyone else ridicules, to be the only one in the crowd to say no to drinking, dishonesty, breaking the Sabbath day—all of these actions take a person of strong character. Such people among my friends have given immeasurable courage to me and to others.”

He continued, “I remember a night when some friends and I sneaked into a movie through the exit without paying. We were laughing and feeling smart and smug about it when, without a word, one of my friends got up and left the theater. Suddenly, being dishonest didn’t seem funny any more. One by one each of us walked out each secretly wishing we had had that much courage.”

This young man went on to say, “Probably the most well-respected boy I know is a young man who makes friends with all kinds of people, regardless of their belief or status. He is loved among Church members and classmates. He is always the life of the party and a fun date, yet he has never lowered his high standards in any way to win a friend or to get a laugh. He gravitates naturally toward positions of leadership because his peers, even the weakest ones, sense his strength of character. He has changed the lives of many young people.”

Upon return from her mission, Yamikani encouraged her friend Peter Kidian Chinyumba to listen to the missionaries. He was baptized in the year 2004, and—a year later—Peter received his temple endowment. When Peter returned to Malawi from the temple, Yamikani realized that he was as committed to the gospel as she was. “That’s when I fell in love with him, I wanted him to be committed first to the gospel before he commits to me,” she said.
Shortly afterward, Peter and Yamikani were married—and later sealed in the Johannesburg Temple. Peter was called as the first district president in Malawi and as such, the couple welcomed and hosted Elder Russell M. Nelson on October 25, 2011 when he came to dedicate the country of Malawi for the preaching of the gospel.

I walked to school one day, my first day in fourth grade and at a new school. I was scared but got to my classroom OK. At recess, I was all alone. I saw Erin* all alone, too. She didn’t have any friends, and other kids made fun of her because she had lived in three foster homes.
I went over and said hi. She started crying. I asked what was wrong. She said that nobody had been that nice to her. It made me feel really warm inside to know that I had made someone feel better.

One of these people was a dear sister I met while serving my mission in Ecuador. Her name is Maria. Through her life experiences, she has learned how powerful being positive can be. Maria is a survivor of leukemia, breast cancer, and a brain tumor. With each cancer, she exercised positive power as she continually reassured others that she knew she’d be okay because our loving Father in Heaven would take care of her. She saw each challenge as a blessing because she knew that when she spent time in hospitals undergoing surgery or chemotherapy she’d be able to make many new friends among the other patients, nurses, and doctors. People around her feel her positive power and are deeply affected. This sister finds joy all around her. She exudes positive power and refuses to fall into the trap of complaining or expressing negative thoughts or feelings. She is a strength to all who know her.

I was deeply affected by Maria’s example of positivity, knowing how sick she often was.

I have been impressed with the moving account of Emma Smith’s most earnest desires at a very challenging time in her life. We read of when her husband decided to return to Carthage:
Emma asked [him] to give her a blessing. The Prophet told her to write the best blessing she could desire. He promised her that upon his return, he would sign it for her. [In Relief Society Courses of Study, 1985 (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1984), 199]
That tells us something about the confidence the Prophet had in the desires of Emma’s heart. He never returned from Carthage. But we have a record of her desires at that fateful time in her life. She wrote nine things she most desired. The first sentence used the words “I . . . crave,” and the following nine “I desire.” I would like to share with you her first and last statements:
First of all that I would crave as the richest of heaven’s blessings would be wisdom from my Heavenly Father bestowed daily, so that whatever I might do or say, I could not look back at the close of the day with regret, nor neglect the performance of any act that would bring a blessing.
She completed her list of ten with this statement: “Finally, I desire that whatever may be my lot through life I may be enabled to acknowledge the hand of God in all things” (in Relief Society Courses of Study 1985, 199). Under the most severe testing during that crucial time in the history of the Church, Emma Smith’s desires tells us something of the strength of her back.

I will never forget hearing my baby’s heart beat for the very first time. It was a life-changing moment I can only describe as pure ecstasy. It was his heart I was hearing, but it was my heart that was exploding! Exploding with a feeling of love and joy like nothing I had ever experienced before! I walked—or better said, I floated out of the doctor’s office in a state of absolute euphoria, and I didn’t come down out of the clouds for days.

Like most new parents, I didn’t know it was even possible to feel that kind of love—a love so pure, so perfect, and so sacred. I was experiencing, as President Nelson has described, “what is sometimes called the Spirit of Elijah—a manifestation of the Holy Ghost bearing witness of the divine nature of the family.” [1] My heart was turned to my child, and his heart was turned to mine. Our hearts truly were “knit together in . . . love.” [2]

Audrey liked to be awake. She liked to play with her friends Karen and Sue. Her mother and her grandmother were fun to be with too. Audrey liked to run and jump and chase her shadow. Some days she even liked helping with chores around the house.
The one thing Audrey didn’t like, though, was taking naps. Every afternoon when Mother suggested that Audrey lie down for a little while, Audrey would pout and say, “Do I have to?” Audrey was afraid she might miss doing something she enjoyed while she slept.
“Audrey, it’s time for your nap,” Mother announced shortly after lunch one day.
“Oh, Mother, could I skip my nap just this one time?” Audrey pleaded.
“But if you do, you’ll feel cranky and tired later on,” Mother warned.
“No, I won’t. I promise, Mother. Just let me skip my nap for today,” Audrey persisted.
“Well, OK, just this once,” Mother agreed, but Audrey noticed she didn’t look very pleased.
As Audrey raced over to Karen’s house, she felt very grown up.
“Where’s Karen?” she asked Karen’s mother.
“Karen is napping,” her friend’s mother answered.
Audrey felt disappointed as she walked next door to Sue’s house. She knocked on the back door and asked if Sue could play with her.
“I’m sorry, Audrey,” Sue’s mother said, “but she’s in her room taking a nap. Perhaps later.”
Unhappily, Audrey started home. Maybe Mother or Grandmother will play with me, she thought, rubbing her eyes.
When she was home again, Audrey looked up at Mother, who was busy sewing.
“Mother, will you play a game with me?” Audrey asked.
“Honey, I can’t now,” Mother told Audrey, glancing at the clock. “I’ve promised to hem this dress for your grandmother. She needs to wear it tonight.”
“Where’s Grandmother?” asked Audrey.
“She’s taking a nap,” Mother explained.
“But Grandmother is too old to take naps,” Audrey said in surprise.
“Audrey, people don’t take naps because of their age. They take naps because they’re tired and need to rest,” Mother explained, smiling.
Audrey knew what Mother said made sense, for already she was beginning to feel tired. She let out a yawn and then said, “Mother?”
“What, Audrey?” Mother asked.
“I don’t think I want to skip my nap after all. I think I’ll go lay down for a while like Grandmother. I’m sort of tired too.”
Then Audrey kissed her mother and hurried off to her room.

The first stake in Uganda was organized in 2010. The Church is growing rapidly, with many young men and young women in each ward and branch.

The young women in one ward were inspired by the teachings of Sister Elaine S. Dalton, Young Women general president, on virtue: “Now is the time for each of us to arise and unfurl a banner to the world calling for a return to virtue.”1 The young women hiked a hill overlooking the town and raised gold banners symbolizing their pledge to be examples of virtue. Together they sang “High on the Mountain Top” (Hymns, no. 5).

These young women have raised their personal standards of righteousness. Their obedience has strengthened their testimonies and influenced others. Sister Dalton has said, “Never underestimate the power of your righteous influence.”2 And like a banner, the example of these young women waves to all the world.

Sandra
Photograph by Cindy Smith
Like many young women in Uganda, Sandra walks more than a mile to church, helps clean the meetinghouse on Fridays, and attends seminary on Saturdays. During the week, she rises before 5:00 a.m. to read schoolbooks, and then she walks to school, returning home after 6:00 p.m. She missed a year of school because of financial difficulties but faces her challenges with a positive attitude: “The gospel has really helped me to stay steadfast and immovable.”

Sandra is the only Church member in her home, but her parents support her Church service, such as helping when the ward cleaned the grounds of a local orphanage. Her family sees how the gospel has helped her be strong, even when facing unresolved problems. Reflecting on the source of that strength, Sandra says, “When I go to church, I feel like I am putting on the armor of God” (see Ephesians 6:11–17).

A more recent convert, Susan, loves the Church. Originally from South Sudan, her family fled hardships and was blessed to receive the missionaries in Uganda. As a refugee, she found peace and protection in the gospel. On Sundays she would bring her younger siblings to church, as well as up to 10 other children who are not Church members. After the unexpected death of a family member, she returned to South Sudan, where she waits for the Church to be established in her area. Both Susan and Sandra face challenges, but they rely on God and enjoy the fruits of living the gospel of Jesus Christ (see Alma 32:6–8, 43).

Young men in Uganda start playing football as small boys, using tightly bound branches for a ball. Ever since he was very young, Dennis had a gift for the sport, and his high school gave him a scholarship to play for their team. After he completed high school, a professional team offered him pay, room, and board. It was a dream come true, but Dennis knew this would likely interfere with his plans to go on a mission later in the year.

Dennis
Photograph by Cindy Smith
Dennis’s desire to do what his Heavenly Father wanted him to do was so strong that he did not even want to be tempted to remain on the team when the time would arrive for him to serve a mission. Many people questioned his choice, but Dennis is certain he made the right decision—for himself and others. “My two little brothers and my little sister were just baptized,” he says. “I never thought my sister would hear the gospel. When I see God doing miracles in my family, it gives me a bright hope for my future.”

In Dennis’s ward the young men study Preach My Gospel each week. They have become like a team, working closely with the full-time missionaries and bringing friends to Sunday meetings and other activities, including basketball and football games during the week. The priests have baptized friends and others they helped teach with the missionaries. Over several years, this team of young men has strengthened the whole ward, and four of them, including Dennis, received calls to the Kenya Nairobi Mission.

They have followed the counsel of Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to “become missionaries long before you submit your mission papers.”3 They did so by working together as a quorum, a team better than any other.

All four missionaries overcame challenges in order to serve. Wilberforce explains, “I was almost losing hope of going on a mission [because of the costs], but then I read Matthew 6:19–20: ‘Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth … but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.’ So with diligence and commitment, I was able to accomplish my goal of serving a full-time mission. I love missionary service. Nothing is better than seeking first the kingdom of heaven.”

It was the morning before my son, Daniel, had his first day of kindergarten, and he had a few concerns about leaving home to attend school. I wanted to make sure that he felt prepared to meet the challenges in the “real world.” I told Daniel that I would miss him very much while he was away. I assured him that even though I couldn’t be with him at school, he would never need to feel afraid or lonely because his Father in Heaven would watch over him. I reminded him that he could pray anytime, anywhere and that God would always hear him.
As I spoke, Daniel, barely five years old, listened very intently. After some thought he responded, “Can He see me when I’m in my house?”
“Yes,” I assured him.
“Can He see me when I’m outside?” he asked.
“Yes, He can always see you,” I replied.
With a look of excitement, Daniel ran immediately to the backyard. I followed closely behind him. Daniel looked upward at the cloudless, blue sky and asked, “If I look up at the sky and smile, will He see me and will He smile back?”
Rendered speechless from the lump in my throat and the tug on my heartstrings, I nodded, “Yes!”
Still looking heavenward, this time with squinted, searching eyes and perfect, childlike faith, Daniel thoughtfully asked, “Can I see Him?”
“You might not be able to see Him,” I replied, “but you will know He is there because you will feel His smile in your heart.”
Daniel stood smiling as he gazed into the heavens. From the peaceful look on his angelic face, I knew he was experiencing that divine smile deep in his soul.

Dan wasn’t always as helpful as he is now. The “old” Dan didn’t like to work. He was sometimes disobedient and impolite, and he didn’t study very hard. Then one day his father, Jones, met two Latter-day Saint missionaries on the street. In time, the whole family joined the Church. Learning that he was a child of God gave Dan a new point of view. His baptism and confirmation helped it grow. “I felt forgiven and clean and good,” he remembers. “And since then, the Holy Ghost has helped me do what I should. And when I repent, He helps me know I’m forgiven.”
Seeing himself differently, Dan began seeing others that way as well. “I love my brothers and sisters like I love myself. I would do anything for them,” he says. Dan changed in other ways, too. Barely able to read, he studied hard and became a good reader and a good student.
Brother Balyejusa has noticed a change in all his children. “Since we joined the Church, I don’t have as many problems with my family,” he explains. “We are now like one person. Before, we were divided.”

Bruce eased his paddle into the lake water, slicing the dark substance noiselessly, watching the droplets drip from the end of his wooden blade, interrupting the rhythm of his strokes to observe the shimmering return of water to water. Wet diamonds, Bruce thought, as he watched the droplets recombine with the lake.
For the moment, they were the richest and loveliest jewels he could know.
It was late September, and the predusk air was just beginning to acquire the distinctive and leafy mustiness of early autumn. The Connecticut evenings were chilly already, yet Bruce sensed the first morning of frost was still weeks away. When he was younger, the coming of the frost mattered little to him, for September meant only one horrible and inescapable event: the removal of freedom. He was not conscious of beginnings then, as he was today; he was aware only of endings. He smiled as he pushed the paddle deep into the water again, for he could still feel the horrible cringe in his mind that haunted him during the last weeks of summer every year. How he hated to relinquish the freedom of his summer to the walls of a school.
And they had been extraordinary summers. After finishing his job at the pet shop or completing his gardening assignments at Geysmar’s estate, he would hop into his beat-up VW, pick up Bob at the gas station, and they’d rumble and downshift their way over the winding roads to the lake. A few cans of soda, some bug repellant and fishing tackle, and they were set at least until dark. Sometimes longer.
Again Bruce smiled, this time more to the familiar back that occupied the forward seat of his canoe than to the endless water. He had picked Bob up tonight at his gas station, both of them curious to try out the old fishing spots one more time before Bruce took off for Utah and then Germany. They had left the station at 4:30, and when they arrived at the lake, there still were a few hours of daylight left.
“You really think there’s fish left in this puddle?” Bob asked, as he and Bruce lifted the canoe off the roof of the Bug and carried it over their heads to the water’s edge. “Bet the acid rain has just about wiped this place out.”
“Sure there’s fish. How can you doubt it? You just have to find them.” But they had found none so far, Bruce had to acknowledge, though the reawakening of memories had been well worth the trip.
“Hey Bruce, can’t you remember those stars?” Bob said. The silent onset of dusk had begun to slip in over the lake. “Don’t you remember those nights?” He was silent for a moment, then continued. “It really isn’t that long ago—just two years since the last time we were up here, right? But man! Those stars. Sometimes when I work the pumps at night now, I remember those stars.”
How could anyone forget them, Bruce thought, checking his line for bass as Bob spoke. They had been trolling the lake for about a half hour now, but still no luck. Sometimes it was like that.
“Those stars, Bruce.” Bob laughed. “Man, I still can’t say what they make me feel.”
They stopped paddling, then floated freely, words stuck in the stuff of their memories. Suddenly it seemed to Bruce that he was 14 again, and he and Bob were lying on their backs on the seats of their old rowboat, their lines limp at the side of the boat.
“Hey Bruce, do you think there’s ever an end to those stars?” Bob had asked. And Bruce had felt it then, as surely as he knew it again this evening, that the stars stretched on forever.
“Can’t you imagine a wall out there, Bruce? Can’t you feel it? You know, all of a sudden you reach the end of the space, and then there’s this big giant wall. Bam! That’s it. The big end.” And they had laughed.
But Bruce had found that he had to stop laughing that night. The waters licked softly at the base of the boat; a peeper sounded from the shore. There was nothing but blackness in the middle of the lake, all that black and silent water. Bruce shook his head vigorously, shutting his eyes, sitting up so suddenly that he hurt the bones in his back on the seat of the boat.
“No way, Bobby,” Bruce said, still shaking his head. “I just can’t handle that. It’s like something cracks—snap!—in my head. You know what I mean? I just can’t handle a wall in space. I just can’t handle it ending. Things have got to go on. Don’t you think, Bobby?” But it was more feeling than thinking, he knew.
Nights like that had made it easier to believe the missionaries, Bruce realized, when they had come knocking on his parents’ door. Nights like that had helped his new faith to seem almost reasonable. If space was endless, then life was endless, and endless life demanded a God. And if there was a God, Bruce just couldn’t imagine any other church being truer than the one that the missionaries had taught to him. He’d felt it as sure as he felt the warmth of the sun. And so he’d done it. He’d slipped gently into the bright waters of baptism, knees bending, his white clothes clinging to him as he felt his body going down and then up, lifted from the wetness by some power much greater than skinny old Elder Larsen. He had felt himself rising from the waters, a new person.
Water. It was always water for him. Once, when he was ten, he had tried to walk on the lake water. Lying on his back on the dock near his parents’ old cabin on the lake, he had become curious with the possibilities of faith. He had heard the story countless times in his Methodist Sunday School of the Savior walking on the water, but now his wondering made him restless. If he had enough faith, would the substanceless substance become firm beneath him? He stepped confidently out, then fell clumsily into the water.
“You caught any fish back there?” Bob asked, snapping Bruce back into the present.
Bruce looked at his line; it hung lifelessly in the dark.
“Maybe it’s time to head back,” Bob suggested.
Bruce said nothing. It was hard to stop fishing. He was always filled with the wild hope of just one more minute, just one more moment of patience, and then the tiniest movement of the line would come. If you weren’t careful, you would miss that gentle sign of interest, and the hope would be gone.
“Another 15 minutes, Bob. Let’s wait till it’s real dark. Then we’ll go back.”
Bruce reeled in his line, then pulled the pole back and cast out with one final hope for success. Setting the rod in the bottom of the canoe, he turned in the seat to get more comfortable and bumped his pole in the process. It jerked precariously, the line getting caught under the bow of the canoe. Impulsively, Bruce reached his hand into the black and unknowable water, the dark liquid now fused with the dimming horizon that was tentatively lit by a few of the earliest stars. Bruce tugged at the trapped line with his hand, freeing it, and then, for some reason, felt reluctant to let it go. Unexpectedly, the line raced through his enclosing fingers, pulled taut with certain promise.
“Hey Bob!” Bruce called softly, carefully pulling his hand in from the water, unwilling to disturb the pulse of the line. “I think I’ve got something, my friend.”

I served in the United States Navy near the end of World War II. Navy boot camp was not an easy experience for me or for anyone who endured it.
When Sunday rolled around after the first week, we received welcome news from the chief petty officer. Standing at attention on the drill ground in a brisk California breeze, we heard his command: “Today everybody goes to church—everybody, that is, except for me. I am going to relax!” Then he shouted, “All of you Catholics, you meet in Camp Decatur—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!” A rather large group moved out. Then he barked out his next command: “Those of you who are Jewish, you meet in Camp Henry—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!” A smaller group marched out. Then he said, “The rest of you Protestants, you meet in the theaters at Camp Farragut—and don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!”
Instantly there flashed through my mind the thought, “Monson, you are not a Catholic; you are not a Jew; you are not a Protestant. You are a Mormon, so you just stand here!” I felt completely alone.
Then the chief petty officer looked in my direction and asked, “And just what do you guys call yourselves?” I had not realized that anyone was standing beside me or behind me. Almost in unison, each of us replied, “Mormons!” Joy filled my heart as I turned around and saw a handful of other sailors.
The chief petty officer thought for a moment and finally said, “Well, you guys go find somewhere to meet. And don’t come back until three o’clock. Forward, march!”
As we marched away, I thought of the words of a rhyme I had learned in Primary years before:
Dare to be a Mormon;
Dare to stand alone.
Dare to have a purpose firm;
Dare to make it known.
How grateful I am that I made the decision long ago to remain strong and true, always prepared and ready to defend my religion.

After winning a silver medal in the 1960 Olympic 400-meter hurdles in Rome, Cliff Sushman fell in the 1964 Olympic trials and missed a chance to go to Tokyo. Several fans in his hometown wrote to Cliff expressing sympathy. His reply:
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I feel sorry for some of you.
“In a split second all the many years of training, pain, sweat, blisters, and agony of running were simply and irrevocably wiped out. But I tried. I would much rather fall knowing I had put forth an honest effort than never to have tried at all … Each of you is capable of trying to make your own personal Olympic team, whether it be a school football team, the singing club, the List of students who receive high grades in school, or whatever your role may be. Unless you strive to achieve more than is readily available to you, how can you be sure what you can attain?
“… Certainly I was disappointed in falling flat on my face. However, there is nothing I can do about it now but get up, pick the cinders from my wounds, and take one more step, followed by one more and one more, until the steps turn into kilometers and the kilometers turn into success.
“I know that I may never reach my goal. The odds are against me, but I have something in my favor—desire and faith.
“Some of you have never known the satisfaction of doing your best in sports, the joy of excelling in class, the wonderful feeling of completing the job and looking back on it knowing you have done your best.
“… There is plenty of room at the top, but no room for anyone to sit down.”

Experience #4
Later in 2022, in our game vs Army, as always, I humbly but earnestly petitioned the Lord for help. This was another critical game. People might think it is strange or inappropriate to ask the Lord for help for a football game, but for me this was more than a football game; this was my life; this is what I did for a living; this is how I supported my family. These were more than football games for me and my family. I was pleading with the Lord for help with my job. I was seeking His guidance. The livelihood of my family and many other families were at stake.

One night during the week of the game I was awakened by a dream. For me it was a nightmare. In my dream I had a vision, and in this vision I saw the Army sidelines storm the field in celebration. I woke up and pleaded with the Lord, "Please no! I’ve given 25 years of my life to help build this program. I am doing everything you ask of me. I am honoring all of my covenants. I am faithfully serving as your stake president. Lord, please no." Then the impression came to my mind, "Lovest thou this, more than me?" In my mind I responded, "Lord Thou knowest that I love Thee more than this... but please no."

The game was close, as the Army games normally are. Early in the game I received a clear inspiration to call a play that we never even practiced that entire week. I was inspired to put in a player who wasn’t playing at the time. These clear, distinct impressions have happened several times during my career and they were always right and always had positive results. Well, the play worked perfectly. The player we put in the game ran untouched 75 yards for a touchdown! As I ran down the sidelines I said to myself, “Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!” And then I heard a voice telling me, “I am here.” That gave me great peace again, thinking that meant we were going to win. Things looked promising. We were going in for the go-ahead touchdown in double overtime, but we fumbled the ball inches before the goal line. Army then kicked the game winning field goal. And then, their entire sidelines stormed the field in celebration. It was the exact same scene that I saw in my dream. As devastating as the loss was, I was comforted again because the Lord had already showed me earlier that week that we wouldn’t win. I was also comforted by the perfect play call knowing the Lord hadn’t totally abandoned me. He was still with me.

I was fired immediately after the game in the locker room. My wife and I decided that it was best that we left Annapolis and move closer to family. Thus, I would have to be released as stake president. As I met with the new stake president, a wonderful man, he told me that as he watched the Army-Navy game on TV that as soon as we fumbled the ball at the end of the game he received personal revelation that he was going to be called as the next stake president. It was a tender mercy from the Lord for both of us, to help us both recognize and both prepare ourselves for the will of the Lord.