Gospel Story Finder

One time I got nothing wrong on a test, but when I looked more closely I saw that I forgot to fill in an answer. I told my teacher, and I got to help hold our pet snake because I told the truth. The commandment I chose to follow was, “Thou shalt not bear false witness” (Exodus 20:16). When we know something is true but don’t say it, it is the same as telling a lie. The thirteenth article of faith begins, “We believe in being honest [and] true.” Even though my teacher marked that answer wrong, I felt good inside because I knew I was following Jesus Christ’s example.

Evan’s inspiration to help orphans living thousands of miles away in China began with his visit to that country in December of 1996. Evan accompanied his parents, Dave and Mary Pressley, when they adopted his little sister, Marianne Kai Yue. “After I got home, I just wanted to help some babies who are not as fortunate as my little sister, who has found a family.” Marianne and Evan have two older brothers, Ben, 19, and Dan, 18.
As a result of traditional prejudice against females, hundreds of girls are abandoned daily in China. Evan’s little sister was one of them. She had been left on a doorstep in a small village when she was only one day old. On a note attached to her clothing was the handwritten date and time of her birth: “April 15, 1996, 9:23 A.M.” Eight months later, when the Pressleys took her home, she weighed only 10 pounds. Poor nutrition is a fact of life for Chinese orphans. Their caregivers are very loving but lack the funds to feed the babies well.

What was a little nerve-racking was contributing to the lessons. At first it was hard to think that I could offer anything to men who had so much more life experience and so much more wisdom than I did.

Elders quorum is definitely different from priests quorum. Instead of a bunch of guys your age, you’re suddenly with adults. The first couple times I went, I didn’t really say anything. I worried that I was too young and didn’t know enough to contribute.

But the more I’ve been going, the more comfortable I’ve become, and the more I’ve come to realize that no matter how old you are, everybody has something to contribute. Everyone has different experiences with the gospel and everyone has different levels of understanding of different principles.

Reminiscing about his childhood, Bishop Brown said, “I was born a long time ago in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Our home had no central heating, only a wooden cookstove. I remember when we dug a basement under the house and installed a furnace. It had no heat ducts, just a floor radiator in the middle of one room. We tried to heat the whole house from that one room, and I remember how wonderful it was to stand over that single register on cold winter days.

Chanterel Hauata of the Heiri Ward also knows the joy of attending the temple. Although a benign brain tumor caused him to go blind six years ago, in the temple he sees clearly. “It is a place of clarity,” he explains. “In the temple we learn of eternity. It lifts us beyond this mortal life.”

“I’m adopted,” Taitia explains. “I’m the youngest of eight children now. My real mother is a relative of the family that adopted me. My adoptive mother used to look after her when she was little. I’m lucky though, because my family now has the gospel. My other one didn’t.”

I will mention just part of one such account. Two weeks ago I received a touching letter from a father of seven who wrote about his family and, in particular, his son Jason, who had become ill when 11 years of age. Over the next few years, Jason’s illness recurred several times. This father told of Jason’s positive attitude and sunny disposition, despite his health challenges. Jason received the Aaronic Priesthood at age 12 and “always willingly magnified his responsibilities with excellence, whether he felt well or not.” He received his Eagle Scout Award when he was 14 years old.
Last summer, not long after Jason’s 15th birthday, he was once again admitted to the hospital. On one of his visits to see Jason, his father found him with his eyes closed. Not knowing whether Jason was asleep or awake, he began talking softly to him. “Jason,” he said, “I know you have been through a lot in your short life and that your current condition is difficult. Even though you have a giant battle ahead, I don’t ever want you to lose your faith in Jesus Christ.” He said he was startled as Jason immediately opened his eyes and said, “Never!” in a clear, resolute voice. Jason then closed his eyes and said no more.
His father wrote: “In this simple declaration, Jason expressed one of the most powerful, pure testimonies of Jesus Christ that I have ever heard. … As his declaration of ‘Never!’ became imprinted on my soul that day, my heart filled with joy that my Heavenly Father had blessed me to be the father of such a tremendous and noble boy. … [It] was the last time I heard him declare his testimony of Christ.”
Although his family was expecting this to be just another routine hospitalization, Jason passed away less than two weeks later. An older brother and sister were serving missions at the time. Another brother, Kyle, had just received his mission call. In fact, the call had come earlier than expected, and on August 5, just a week before Jason’s passing, the family gathered in his hospital room so that Kyle’s mission call could be opened there and shared with the entire family.
In his letter to me, this father included a photograph of Jason in his hospital bed, with his big brother Kyle standing beside the bed, holding his mission call. This caption was written beneath the photograph: “Called to serve their missions together—on both sides of the veil.”
Jason’s brother and sister already serving missions sent beautiful, comforting letters home to be shared at Jason’s funeral. His sister, serving in the Argentina Buenos Aires West Mission, as part of her letter, wrote: “I know that Jesus Christ lives, and because He lives, all of us, including our beloved Jason, will live again too. … We can take comfort in the sure knowledge we have that we have been sealed together as an eternal family. … If we do our very best to obey and do better in this life, we will see [him again].” She continued: “[A] scripture that I have long loved now takes on new significance and importance at this time. … [From] Revelation chapter 21, verse 4: ‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’”

It took one year to build concrete steps down a volcanic cliffside to the swimming hole and the beautiful waterfall below. Four boys worked on this project. They had two picks, two crowbars, and one sledgehammer, and they worked every night after school and every Saturday for six months. Little by little they chipped the rock away until they had a pathway wide enough to support some concrete clear to the bottom of the waterfall. It took them another six months of backbreaking labor to make the steps. They hauled sand from the beach in an old pickup truck. They added cement and took gravel from the river and mixed the concrete by hand in a shallow pocket hollowed out of a large stone. Then they shoveled the wet concrete into buckets and lowered them down the cliff with ropes attached to a long bamboo pole. One step at a time they worked until the trail was completed.

Pure religion encompasses patience and long-suffering. A father recovering from the wounds of alcoholism has often said, “I am making my way back because my family would not give up on me. Everyone had written me off except my wife and children.” How sweet are those words: “I am making my way back because my family would not give up on me.”

Todd had a hard time sitting still during sacrament meeting. He swung his feet. He wiggled in his seat.
Todd liked to sit on Daddy’s lap at church. But Daddy was out of town today. “Todd,” Mommy whispered. “It’s time to be reverent during the sacrament.” She gave him a copy of the Friend.
Todd looked at the pictures. But soon he got tired of being still. He held his baby sister, Sarah’s, hand. She wrapped her tiny fingers around his. Todd smiled.
Soon the bread tray was passed to him. Todd was hungry. He used both hands to grab lots of bread. Mommy frowned. She said, “Next time, just take one.”
After the meeting, Mommy smiled at Todd. “Thank you for helping Sarah while Daddy is away.”
Todd liked helping Mommy at church. He thought about all the bread he took.
“I’m sorry I took a lot of bread. Why do we only get one piece?” he asked.
Mommy hugged Todd. “We don’t take the bread because we are hungry. We take the bread to remember Jesus. And we take just one piece so that everyone can have a piece to remember Jesus.”
Todd tried extra hard to be reverent during church the next week. He took just one piece of bread. He was happy he could remember Jesus. He wanted to help others remember Jesus too.

How cheaply some men and women sell their good names! I recall the widely publicized case of a prominent public figure who was arrested for taking an item costing less than five dollars. I do not know whether he was ever convicted in the courts, but his petty misdeed convicted him before the people. In a measure, his foolish act nullified much of the good he had done and was capable of yet doing.

Then, recently I visited the Junior Sunday School meeting in connection with the stake conference where I was assigned. As I entered the room I saw a little girl crying and looking very lost and very, very frightened. Her parents had just deposited her and gone on to the meeting with the big people. In a moment a wonderful young teacher reached her, knelt by her, and put her arms around her and comforted her. The sobs turned to sniffles and peace began to enter a little heart. Just then the second act in the drama began. Another youngster appeared and started to cry also, frightened and feeling alone like the other had. The young teacher, still holding the first little one, reached the second child, and knelt by her and enveloped her in her arms. As she did I heard her say to the first little girl, “Ellen, this young lady is frightened and lonesome. Will you help me make her feel welcome?”
The first youngster, her sniffles barely dried, nodded, and the two little children, in the safe haven of the teacher’s arms, supported each other and soon both were quieted. The teacher put three chairs together and sat between the two of them, a hand gently resting on each.
When I left that morning I thought I had seen as clearly as I am capable of seeing how the Lord expects us to treat each other, and how wonderful it is to have someone who has lived a little longer and learned to love, to reach out and help us, and then help us help others.

Service is another important part of their lives. To earn money for a specially equipped bus for the handicapped in Utah County, Mike and Curt earned pledges and then wheeled 185 kilometers around Utah Lake in 16 hours. As a sidelight they shattered the world record, which was 173.8 kilometers in eight days.

I have a friend like you. More than forty years ago we were in the mission field together. In the years that followed he went off to war. In his loneliness he picked up with careless companions. He married out of the Church. He followed habits which had made him feel he would not be welcomed. He moved from one part of the country to another. His identity was lost.
One Sunday I found myself in a California city for a stake conference. My name and picture had been in the local newspaper. The phone rang at the stake center as the stake president and I entered the building that morning. The call was for me, and the caller identified himself. He wanted to see me. I excused myself from the meeting I was to have held early that morning and asked the stake president to carry on with it. I had something more important to do.
He came, this friend of mine, timidly and somewhat fearfully. He had been away for a long time. We embraced as brothers long separated. At first the conversation was awkward, but it soon warmed as we discussed together days spent in England many years ago. There were tears in the eyes of this strong man as he spoke of the Church of which he had once been so effective a part, and then told of the long, empty years that had followed. He dwelt upon them as a man speaks of nightmares. When he had described those wasted years, we talked of his returning. He thought it would be difficult, that it would be embarrassing, but he agreed to try.
I had a letter from him not long ago. He said, “I’m back. I’m back, and how wonderful it feels to be home again.”

An experience my mother and father had many years ago illustrates the importance and power of eyes to see and ears to hear. In 1982 my parents were called to serve in the Philippines Davao Mission. When my mother opened the letter and saw where they were called, she exclaimed to my father, “No! You’ve got to call them and tell them we can’t go to the Philippines. They know you have asthma.” My father had suffered with asthma for many years, and my mother was very worried about him.

A few nights later my mother woke up my dad at about 2:30 a.m. She said, “Merlin, did you hear that voice?”
“No, I didn’t hear any voice.”
“Well, I have heard the same voice three times tonight, saying, ‘Why are you worried? Don’t you know that I know he has asthma? I will take care of him, and I will take care of you. Get yourself ready to serve in the Philippines.’”

My mother and father served in the Philippines and had a marvelous experience. The Holy Ghost was their companion, and they were blessed and protected. My father never had any problems with his asthma. He served as the first counselor in the mission presidency, and he and my mother trained hundreds of missionaries and thousands of faithful Latter-day Saints in preparation for the coming of wards and stakes on the island of Mindanao. They were blessed with eyes to see and ears to hear.

The unfolding of God’s work often proceeds quietly. For example, whatever the immediate economic reasons the Joseph Smith Sr. family had for moving from New England to upstate New York, they were being led—unawares—to sacred plates, buried in Cumorah’s Hill, waiting to become “another testament of Christ” for “as long as the earth shall stand” (2 Ne. 25:22).

The man who became one of the Urdu translators was converted to the Church in Pakistan while working as a teacher. As a result of his conversion, he lost his job; he lost his house, which was provided by the school where he taught; and he lost the schooling for his children. A Church translation supervisor approached him about serving as a translator and offered him a modest recompense. After working as a translator for a few months, the man visited with the supervisor and timidly asked if the supervisor would buy him a new ballpoint pen. The one he had been using had run out of ink. Only then did the supervisor discover and fix a clerical error that had resulted in the translator receiving much less than what he should have been paid.

One day I was invited to give a talk in a local ward’s sacrament meeting on the topic of sacrifice. I was hesitant at first because I’d never spoken outside my own ward, but I said yes. I’m so glad I did! My testimony of Jesus Christ and my faith in Him increased as a result. I now see the value of saying yes to service—no matter how small—and of following Jesus Christ and bringing others along with me—just as I saw Scott do.

When I was nine years old, my father, Charles Monson, was called as a bishop. He served as bishop until I was nineteen years old. I had many marvelous experiences watching him serve and seeing him do so much and still be a wonderful father.
When I was twenty-nine years old, I was called to serve as a bishop. It seemed like a hard thing to do, but I remembered my father’s example. I also remembered my Primary teachers telling me how Nephi had received the difficult assignment to go back to Jerusalem and get the brass plates from Laban. He didn’t make excuses. Instead he relied on the Lord and said, “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7). I knew that if I also relied on the Lord, as Nephi had, I could accept the calling I had just received.

During the sixty years that Mary was with the Salt Lake Tabernacle Choir and the fifty-eight years she was pouring out her love for children and Primary workers through the pages of The Children’s Friend, she was also spending part of her time with crippled and ill boys and girls who were being cared for in the Primary Children’s Hospital.
Mary helped in the planning with Sister Felt and Sister Anderson when the original hospital was opened in 1922. It was housed in an old home on North Temple Street that was given to the Primary for a convalescent home and equipped by the Church. There they welcomed boys and girls who needed only limited medical help, but their dream was to be able to provide a shining new fireproof hospital where all medical services could be given.
A project was launched to secure funds for such a building. While the Church, friends of the Primary, and others who loved children contributed amounts both large and small for a new building, much of the money for it was given through the efforts of Primary children. Each boy and girl was asked to buy one brick for a dime, and the children contributed more than $18,000 to the brick project. Many children, excited by the joy that comes through sharing, asked friends and family to give money for the hospital instead of buying birthday and Christmas gifts. The smallest contribution received from a child was two pennies, but that, too, was accepted with gratitude.
In order to properly handle all the funds, the Primary sisters were advised to select a board of trustees and incorporate the Primary Children’s Hospital. It was Mary R. Jack who signed those articles of incorporation and remained as secretary of the board until her release in 1970.