Gospel Story Finder

Getting Stronger
Lucy was born with a syndrome that makes her muscles not work together well. It makes it hard for her to swallow and talk. She rides a special bike and goes on hikes with her family to help her get stronger.

On a cold winter’s night in 1951 there was a knock at my door, and a German brother from Ogden, Utah, announced himself and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?” I answered in the affirmative. He began to weep and said, “My brother and his wife and family are coming here from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with us to see the apartment we have rented for them?” On the way to the apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for many years. Yet all through the holocaust of World War II, his brother had been faithful to the Church, serving as a branch president before the war took him to the Russian front.
I looked at the apartment. It was cold and dreary. The paint was peeling, the wallpaper soiled, the cupboards empty. A forty-watt bulb hanging from the living room ceiling revealed a linoleum floor covering with a large hole in the center. I was heartsick. I thought, “What a dismal welcome for a family which has endured so much.”
My thoughts were interrupted by the brother’s statement, “It isn’t much, but it’s better than they have in Germany.” With that, the key was left with me, along with the information that the family would arrive in Salt Lake City in three weeks—just two days before Christmas.
Sleep was slow in coming to me that night. The next morning was Sunday. In our ward welfare committee meeting, one of my counselors said, “Bishop, you look worried. Is something wrong?” I recounted to those present my experience of the night before, the details of the uninviting apartment. There were a few moments of silence. Then the group leader of the high priests said, “Bishop, did you say that apartment was inadequately lighted and that the kitchen appliances were in need of replacement?” I answered in the affirmative. He continued, “I am an electrical contractor. Would you permit the high priests of this ward to rewire that apartment? I would also like to invite my suppliers to contribute a new stove and a new refrigerator. Do I have your permission?” I answered with a glad “Certainly.”
Then the seventies president responded: “Bishop, as you know I’m in the carpet business. I would like to invite my suppliers to contribute some carpet, and the seventies can easily lay it and eliminate that worn linoleum.”
Then the president of the elders quorum spoke up. He was a painting contractor. He said, “I’ll furnish the paint. May the elders paint and wallpaper that apartment?”
The Relief Society president was next to speak: “We in the Relief Society cannot stand the thought of empty cupboards. May we fill them?”
The next three weeks are ever to be remembered. It seemed that the entire ward joined in the project. The days passed, and at the appointed time the family arrived from Germany. Again at my door stood the brother from Ogden. With an emotion-filled voice, he introduced to me his brother, wife, and their family. Then he asked, “Could we go visit the apartment?” As we walked up the staircase to the apartment, he repeated, “It isn’t much, but it’s more than they have had in Germany.” Little did he know what a transformation had taken place, that many who participated were inside waiting for our arrival.
The door opened to reveal a literal newness of life. We were greeted by the aroma of freshly painted woodwork and newly papered walls. Gone was the forty-watt bulb, along with the worn linoleum it had illuminated. We stepped on carpet deep and beautiful. A walk to the kitchen presented to our view a new stove and refrigerator. The cupboard doors were still open; however, they now revealed that every shelf was filled with food. The Relief Society as usual had done its work.
In the living room we began to sing Christmas hymns. We sang “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm; all is bright.” (Hymns, no. 160.) We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion, the father, realizing that all of this was his, took me by the hand to express his thanks. His emotion was too great. He buried his head in my shoulder and repeated the words, “Mein Bruder, mein Bruder, mein Bruder.”
As we walked down the stairs and out into the night air, it was snowing. Not a word was spoken. Then a young girl asked, “Bishop, I feel better inside than I have ever felt before. Can you tell me why?”
I responded with the words of the Master: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40). Suddenly there came to mind the words from “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
(Hymns, no. 165.)

I’m grateful for the gift given to me of ears to hear. One of my great-grandfathers, John Bennion, walked or rode his horse from over Jordan to this place to hear his name called out to go on a mission to Dixie. His journal doesn’t say much, except just that the next day he prepared to go, and he went. His assignment was to be a sheepherder. In his journal there is a record of an evening in which he met with Erastus Snow. He said another man was in the room; his name was Henry Eyring. And somewhere in St. George that night was Bishop Miles Romney. They talked about sheep. And you might have thought they were talking about something temporal. But not to those men, because they knew they were God’s sheep, and they knew they were for God’s people. And they knew how to listen, and they knew how to do what they heard.
John Bennion went on another mission to Wales and back again to this valley. Henry Eyring went on to Colonia Juarez, as Miles Romney did. And they left for me a tradition which I deeply appreciate. They were the yeomen of the Church, the soldiers of the Church, and my great-grandfathers. You can’t find in their journals records of the positions they held, just of the instructions they heard, and knew were from God, and followed. I’m grateful to my parents who handed me that heritage undiminished. I’m grateful to my wife, who more than once has heard when I did not and gently said, “Would you pray about it?” If my sons and daughters will listen to her, and hear through her what God has in mind for them, we will pass the heritage on again.

I too was questioned by my friends, classmates, and even my teachers in school about our standards. They said that our Church standards are so strict. Instead of arguing with them, I asked for their time to share with them all about our Church standards. I simply showed them that I am very happy and comfortable living with our standards. I also did not use our standards as an excuse to miss some school activities. Instead, I suggested some ideas for the school activities to follow our Church standards. I also shared with them the advantages of following those standards.
Ailyn L., 19, Davao, Philippines

I stood with thousands of youth, waiting for the First Presidency to speak. After hearing from President Hinckley, President Monson, and President Faust, we would perform in the youth cultural celebration as part of the Sacramento California Temple dedication.
I was about to begin my senior year of high school, and anxiety began to creep into my heart. I didn’t know how to balance my many activities—advanced classes in school, music lessons, and college preparation. Could I possibly get everything done and still be successful?
“Remember the three principles of success: listen, learn, and labor,” President Monson said. Peace washed over my soul as he explained how to listen, apply what you learn to your life, and then get to work without looking back. Those words gave me the confidence I needed to move forward.
I started my senior year by applying those principles to my schoolwork and other obligations. Instead of dwelling on my fear of the future, I took action by applying for scholarships and studying for college entrance exams.
But I still felt like something was missing. After a lot of pondering and prayer, I realized President Monson had not only been talking about success in school, but also about success in life—especially eternal life.
I began setting aside more time to study the scriptures and the words of the living prophets. I made personal prayer more of a priority, even when I had other things that needed to get done. To my amazement, my tasks were easier, my mind was clear, and my heart was happy.
Three simple words—listen, learn, and labor—gave me the formula for success in high school and in life.

Following the opening prayer, we were introduced to Brother Corbridge of the stake high council. Brother Corbridge told us that he and his family had just returned from a wonderful vacation trip that included a visit to the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove near Palmyra, New York. Then he related in great detail his family’s experience while in the Sacred Grove. An unmistakable manifestation of the Spirit had come to them to confirm beyond question the truth of what had happened there on that early spring morning of 1820.

Growing up, I always wanted to be a member missionary. I knew how important sharing the gospel with people not of our faith is. I even prayed for opportunities. However, none of the people I knew who weren’t members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were interested. That all changed when I entered high school and met Robbie.*
Robbie and I became friends when we performed in a musical at the community theater. After it was over, we stayed in touch and would occasionally hang out.
One evening we were messaging. Because of early-morning seminary the next morning, I needed to stop so I could go to sleep.
“Thanks for chatting, but I’ve got an early morning!” I sent the message.
“How early?” Robbie asked.
“5:30 a.m.” I replied. I wasn’t sure if I should explain why, but I felt a small nudge from the Spirit to share.
“I have early morning seminary at 6 a.m.,” I said. “It’s a class at my church where we study the scriptures and learn about God before school. I always feel really good after the class.”
Then, I felt another small nudge: “You should come sometime,” I said.
Robbie was excited when I explained what seminary was. “That sounds cool! I could bike there. Maybe I’ll come tomorrow.”
At first, I thought Robbie was kidding. But the next morning as my dad and I drove into the parking lot just before 6 a.m., there was Robbie waiting outside the church with his bicycle. I was shocked.
That day our class learned about temples as we studied the Old Testament. Robbie was fascinated through the entire lesson—he loved all the pictures and learning from all the students about the ways temples unite us with God and our families.
The teacher and other students welcomed Robbie even without any warning that he was coming. Robbie kept coming throughout the rest of the school year. He also came to a couple of youth activities. He made friends with the other youth in my ward and stake. At the end of the school year, Robbie came to the end-of-the-year seminary fireside with us.
That next summer my family moved to a different ward, but when school started again, Robbie kept going to seminary, and the entire class welcomed him back.
Robbie didn’t join the Church, but he always talked about his good experience with me when we would see each other later.

I would tell you how searching the holy scriptures can answer every question you may ever have in life. I remember a difficult time in my life when I thought I couldn’t make it. I had failed a grade in school. It was awful. I just remember praying with all my heart that I could be smart. Some time after that I became aware that the scriptures could provide answers when I needed help. I’d like to share with you one scripture that really helped me during that time in my life.
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Prov. 3:5–6.)
You might think that I never lack confidence now, but I do sometimes. And when I feel that way, I reread that scripture, and I can feel His love and know He is near.

I would like to thank all of the people whose stories appear in the New Era. They have helped me very much. I am in my first year of seminary and am serving as vice-president of our class. I have had some trying times, but I just get out the New Era and read my favorite stories, and it rejuvenates me so that I can try harder in my calling. I want to thank anyone and everyone who puts his time and effort into this magazine. Believe me, it is worth it.
Jennifer BurgessSpringfield, Arkansas

The news reached me on a telephone that seldom rang. My two sons and I were working in the yard of a mountain home we built as a place of retreat from my heavy responsibilities as president of Brigham Young University. The caller was Elder Boyd K. Packer. He told me about the revelation on the priesthood, which was just being announced. We exchanged expressions of joy, and I walked back to my work. I sat down on the pile of dirt we had been moving and beckoned to my sons. As I told them that all worthy male members of the Church could now be ordained to the priesthood, I wept for joy.

At school, a boy and my friend got into a fight. My teacher asked what was going on, and they told her a lie. She asked me what happened. I was going to tell a lie so that my friend wouldn’t get in trouble. But I had a bad feeling, so I told her the truth. After, she said I did the right thing.
Caitlyn T., age 9, North Carolina, USA

Raphael remembers one day in seminary when the class was watching a video about the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith. “I started crying. ‘Why?’ I asked myself. As I concentrated on what I was feeling, the answer came: I was receiving a witness from the Holy Ghost that Joseph Smith is a prophet and that the Church is true.”
He smiles at the memory. “Good things happen in seminary,” he says.

I was born into the family of Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel Mamody Oyegwa of Ojantelle in Apa local government of Benue state. I usually attended the Methodist church but because of my zeal for Jesus Christ, I would often fellowship with numerous churches. However, there were some encounters that led me to decide not to take my children to church anymore. For a year we were home praying on our own. I told God that I wouldn’t go to any church until He showed me the one I should go to. I didn’t know how He would show me but that’s how I felt.
One day, I was coming from a neighboring household and saw two young men that were nicely dressed, clean and had tags on their shirts talking to my daughter Habiba and her friend. I shouted to them from a distance and asked them “What have I done to you that you gave them a Bible and you didn’t give me one or speak with me?” These two elders were Elder Ohenhe and Elder Okoko from the Nigeria Enugu Mission. They joyfully told me “Mama, we are here because of you”.
They took their time teaching me and never seemed to mind the uncomfortable state of my house. They asked me to pray about what they shared and left a Book of Mormon with me. I was instructed to read the introduction, which I did with much eagerness. I had two questions that I wanted to know the answers to. The first had to do with my ancestors and the second was about marriage. The answers they gave me brought me hope.

After dinner with his family, Hal read through the term paper once more, and after correcting two typing errors, placed it in a yellow plastic cover. “Twenty-seven pages,” he thought. “That’s the longest paper I hope I ever have to do. I sure hope Mr. Gillam is interested in the post-war politics of Yugoslavia.” Hal put the paper with his other schoolwork. “I’m glad I started on it when I did, or I’d have never had it ready to turn in tomorrow,” he thought. “That man really expects a lot of us seniors.” With his homework finished, Hal went downstairs and watched a TV show with his little brother before going to bed.
Three houses down the street, Paul, another member of Mr. Gillam’s current affairs class, had gulped down a few bites of mom’s homemade lasagna, one of his favorite meals, and said, “Sorry, mom, I’ve just got to get that paper started—and finished!” and hurried to his room. His study desk was covered with notecards, most of them obviously written in haste. “At least I got some research notes taken at the library last night, so I can type all night if I have to.” He moved some of the cards aside to slide his typewriter into place, put a piece of paper in the machine, and looked at the first stack of cards. “I’ll just have to skip the first-draft stage,” he sighed, “not to mention the second-draft stage. This paper has to be turned in tomorrow morning or else.” As he started to type the one and only draft of the paper that Mr. Gillam would use to decide half of his semester grade, he wondered, “When will I ever learn to start sooner?”
Now, which paper will impress Mr. Gillam more? Right the first time! Obviously Head-start Hal’s paper has a much better chance of being organized and well-written, more thoroughly researched and error-free than does Procrastinator Paul’s. (Hal has a better chance of being awake in class tomorrow, too.)
It’s really the lazy man’s way of getting a job done. Here’s how it works. Let’s say you have a task to do that appears difficult and not too much fun and that needs to be done in two months. For example, the term paper assigned to Hal and Paul mentioned earlier. Most of us, on receiving such an assignment, go through a thought process something like this: “Two months is a long time, so I won’t worry about it for a couple of weeks. (You know the old saying: Never put off till tomorrow what you can put off till next week.) But I’ll surely get started then, and I’ll get it done on time.” In fact, that’s just what Paul thought! But those two weeks were soon gone, and he said, “I just don’t have time right now, but I’ll get to it.” And suddenly the two months had passed, and it was only two more days until the paper was due, and Paul ran to the library … and you know the rest.
But what did Hal do differently? When he got the assignment, he thought like this: (A) “I’d better get started on this. I’ll choose my theme by tomorrow.” (B) “I’ll start my research next Monday by looking up my sources and researching one book per day. That way I can get the main research and note-taking done in just a few minutes a day in the library. By doing one book per school day for three weeks, I’ll have 15 sources.” (C) “Then I’ll start the writing and organizing of the paper.” (D) “Two days before the paper is due, I’ll type the final draft so that the night before it’s due, I can make any corrections needed.”
Is Hal really a better student than Paul is? No, they both seem concerned and conscientious, but Hal’s methods certainly are more effective. Let’s analyze those methods. Notice that Hal had a plan. Notice too that Hal did the main part of his work by sneaking up on it, by doing a little at a time, so that it didn’t seem like a big job. He managed his research in 20 minutes a day over 15 days. That’s 5 hours, but, since it was spread out, it didn’t seem hard. Paul did his research all at once, on the next-to-last night. And it was work.

When I turned 18, I wanted to serve a full-time mission and help in the Lord’s work. I eagerly told my parents about my plan and how I wanted to invite people to come unto Jesus Christ by helping them receive and live the principles and ordinances of the gospel. Their response surprised me. They said it broke their hearts to think of me leaving on a mission, and I had to choose: my family or my mission.
I was shocked when I heard those words. Immediately I went to the Church building near our home and entered one of its rooms to kneel and ask Heavenly Father, “What will I do? What will I choose: my family or my mission? Both are important to me.”
While on my knees, the words of the missionaries came to mind: “Whatever God commands, do it.”
I love my family and want to be with them forever. I respect their feelings. Yet the scripture says, “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22). The Spirit of the Lord filled me, and I was strengthened. I decided to serve because I knew Heavenly Father would help my family understand.
I went home only to be sent away by my father’s angry words and told to never return. Not knowing where to go, I packed my things. I was not a bit scared, because I knew the Lord was with me, that He has a plan for every family, and that someday my family would understand this beautiful plan.
I was only a few steps away from home when my mother caught me. She embraced me and said how much she loved me. As I left, I could see her crying with all the love and pain of a mother seeing her child go.
For over a year, I stayed in the house of a returned missionary I had met when I was an investigator. The Lord was true to His promise in 1 Nephi 3:7—He provided the way so I could obey His commandments. He sent this selfless and generous man to provide for me and to create a spiritual environment where I could prepare for my mission. I felt the hand of God sustaining me through my challenges. I felt the love of our Savior Jesus Christ through His atoning sacrifice. This love carried me through my trials until I was set apart as a full-time missionary in the Philippines Cauayan Mission.
A few months later, I received a letter from my family telling me they were waiting for my return. I never lost faith and hope that my whole family would become members of the Church, be sealed in the temple for all eternity, and be with our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, someday.

What comes after Christmas? For girls with at least three years of camping experience it’s weekly meetings as they train to become junior and senior camp counselors. They participate in a rigorous preparation program and go over all the skills they’ve learned during their years of camp. The final test of the counselors’ training comes when they have their special pre-camp overnight hike. With thirty-pound packs on their backs, these girls hike into the mountains, pitching shelters, cooking, and really testing their skills.
Finally the frightening day arrives: the counselors are assigned to the girls for whom they will be responsible. Then another two-month program begins. This time the counselors instruct the girls in their own wards, with the support and advice of assigned ward camp directors. The counselors thus take the ward groups through all the necessary training steps to prepare them for camp. Mixed with the training is a lot of fun. Each ward prepares a skit for presentation at camp. Most wards choose a mascot and a motto. Many make insignias or decorate T-shirts or buy matching hats to help identify their group.

When I attended the dedication of Brigham Young University’s Monte L. Bean Life Sciences Museum, Brother Bean said, “All that we have is the Lord’s. We are his stewards, and anything that he wants of me or that the leaders of the Church want of me, I am prepared to give.” What a great spirit we would have if we would realize that all that we have to administer, all that we call our own, is the Lord’s, and we have the responsibility to do it the way he would have it done.

Fletcher and the Great Big Dog by Jane Kopper Hilleary When a great big dog stands in Fletcher’s way, he turns and pedals away. The dog follows him wherever he goes, and he gets lost. When it starts to rain, Fletcher tries to find his way home. This time the great big dog doesn’t follow him, so Fletcher wisely decides to follow the dog.

Earlier this year I was on assignment visiting a stake in the western United States. It was a normal Sunday, a normal meeting, with normal members of the Church. I watched as people entered the chapel and reverently moved to available seats. Last-second, whispered conversations echoed throughout the hall. Mothers and fathers tried—sometimes in vain—to quiet energetic children. Normal.

But then, before the meeting began, words inspired of the Spirit came into my mind.
These members had not come just to fulfill a duty or listen to speakers.
They had come for a deeper and far more significant reason.
They had come to worship.

As the meeting progressed, I observed various members in the congregation. They had an almost heavenly expression, an attitude of reverence and peace. Something about them warmed my heart. The experience they were having that Sunday was something quite extraordinary.
They were worshipping.
They were experiencing heaven.
I could see it in their countenances.
And I rejoiced and worshipped with them. And as I did so, the Spirit spoke to my heart. And on that day, I learned something about myself, about God, and about the role of true worship in our lives.

When I reflect back on what began as a normal Sunday morning, in that normal meetinghouse, in that normal stake, even today I am moved by that extraordinary spiritual experience that will forever bless my life.
I learned that even if we are exceptional managers of our time, callings, and assignments—even if we check all the boxes on our list of the “perfect” individual, family, or leader—if we fail to worship our merciful Deliverer, heavenly King, and glorious God, we are missing much of the joy and peace of the gospel.

Through the years the Tabangos’ humble home was blessed with 15 children, but only four survived beyond the age of five. The couple’s faith, however, was not shaken. In the fall of 1978 and at great personal sacrifice, Brother and Sister Tabango traveled across the South American continent to Brazil for the dedication of the São Paulo Temple, where they renewed their friendship with President Spencer W. Kimball, who greeted them warmly. Following the dedication, the couple was endowed and sealed, giving them hope and assurance of an eternal family. Later the children they had lost in life were sealed to them for eternity.