Gospel Story Finder

Emma Swenson Hansen, another woman of great strength and endurance, regularly helped her husband in the fields when her “condition” would permit it and had the reputation for loading hay better than anyone in the community. Once the hay she was stacking slipped, and her husband saw her slide and fall to the ground. “What are you doing down there?” he asked. “I came down for more hay,” she gamely replied. Her history shows that she kept bees, milked cows, fed the calves, cared for the chickens, cut alfalfa with a scythe to give to her pigs, cured their pork, half-soled the family shoes, and made all the family’s clothing.3

The other day following a Sunday School class a teacher came up and wanted me to shake hands with a special child. As I held my hand out and greeted the boy, I became aware that perhaps the only meaningful thing this child could do was carry the teacher’s books to class. What did this empathetic teacher have the boy doing? Carrying the books. Thank God for leaders who know how to teach self-reliance on a level commensurate with the capabilities of those they lead.

Let me tell you a story—a parable.
There once was a man who wanted something very much. It seemed more important than anything else in his life. In order for him to have his desire, he incurred [took on] a great debt.
He had been warned about going into that much debt and particularly about his creditor, the one who lent the money. But it seemed so important for him to have what he wanted right now. He was sure he could pay for it later.
So he signed a contract. He would pay it off some time along the way. He didn’t worry too much about it, for the due date seemed such a long time away. He had what he wanted now, and that was what seemed important.
The creditor was always somewhere in the back of his mind, and he made token [small] payments now and again, thinking somehow that the day of reckoning [the day he had to repay all the money] would never really come.
But as it always does, the day came and the contract fell due. The debt had not been fully paid. His creditor appeared and demanded payment in full.
Only then did he realize that his creditor had not only the power to repossess [take away] all that he owned but also the power to cast him into prison as well.
“I cannot pay you, for I have not the power to do so,” he confessed.
“Then,” said the creditor, “we will take your possessions, and you shall go to prison. You agreed to that. It was your choice. You signed the contract, and now it must be enforced.”
“Can you not extend the time or forgive the debt?” the debtor begged. “Arrange some way for me to keep what I have and not go to prison. Surely you believe in mercy? Will you not show mercy?”
The creditor replied, “Mercy is always so one-sided. It would serve only you. If I show mercy to you, it will leave me unpaid. It is justice I demand. Do you believe in justice?”
“I believed in justice when I signed the contract,” the debtor said. “It was on my side then, for I thought it would protect me. I did not need mercy then nor think I should need it ever.”
“It is justice that demands that you pay the contract or suffer the penalty,” the creditor replied. “That is the law. You have agreed to it, and that is the way it must be. Mercy cannot rob justice.”
There they were: One meting out justice, the other pleading for mercy. Neither could prevail [win] except at the expense of the other.
“If you do not forgive the debt, there will be no mercy,” the debtor pleaded.
“If I do, there will be no justice,” was the reply.
Both laws, it seemed, could not be served. They are two eternal ideals that appear to contradict one another. Is there no way for justice to be fully served and mercy also?
There is a way! The law of justice can be fully satisfied and mercy can be fully extended—but it takes someone else. And so it happened this time.
The debtor had a friend. He came to help. He knew the debtor well. He thought him foolish to have gotten himself into such a predicament. Nevertheless, he wanted to help because he loved him. He stepped between them, faced the creditor, and made this offer: “I will pay the debt if you will free the debtor from his contract so that he may keep his possessions and not go to prison.”
As the creditor was pondering the offer, the mediator added, “You demanded justice. Though he cannot pay you, I will do so. You will have been justly dealt with and can ask no more. It would not be just.”
And so the creditor agreed.
The mediator turned then to the debtor. “If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?”
“Oh yes, yes,” cried the debtor. “You save me from prison and show mercy to me.”
“Then,” said the benefactor [one who helps], “you will pay the debt to me, and I will set the terms. It will not be easy, but it will be possible. I will provide a way. You need not go to prison.”
And so it was that the creditor was paid in full. He had been justly dealt with. No contract had been broken. The debtor, in turn, had been extended mercy. Both laws stood fulfilled. Because there was a mediator, justice had claimed its full share and mercy was fully satisfied.

“Having left behind the relative light and spiritual comfort of the preexistence, the singer is witness to temporal wonders and counterfeits of truth as he sails on his ‘ship of dust’ through the nighttime waters of mortality. In the dawn, as he sails into the eternal realm, he is surprised to find that his voyage is not ended, but continues on a ‘sea of glass,’ in his now celestial ship.” According to Marvin, this song was the springboard for an album of songs along these lines. “I feel very large and expansive when I sing it,” he claims.
We wandered through the shipyards,
through the timber and the rope,
and the wise men saw the longing in our eyes.
So they made for each of us
a ship of dust, with sails of trust,
and the sun behind us vanished from the skies.
Now it’s a long time since the sunset,
and the time we raised the sails,
and the time the old shipbuilders waited for.
There are wonders in the night;
there are strange and dangerous shades of light,
but the dawn is gonna see me on that shore.
Sweet stars, mark the night.
Fair winds, arc the right waves over my prow—
I am homeward.
Wooden wheels and oaken rudders
bend like grass against the sea,
and the canvas fails and falls against our hope.
I am climbing on the mast
and I see a trace of dawn at last
and I feel a strange new feeling in the rope.
Now the sun splits the horizon
where I thought the beach to be,
and the graveyard for the ships done with the sea
But I’m on a sea of glass
and the light is more than sun can pass
and the deck is turning silver under me.
Sweet stars, mark my mind.
Fair winds, you can find me sailing your source—
I am homeward.

President Packer was called as an Apostle in April 1970. He wanted to share his testimony with everyone. He said, “I bear my witness that the Savior lives. I know the Lord. I am His witness.”

The spiritual balance of these young men surfaced in a van full of priests traveling from Orem to Dead Horse Point the day the outing began. The conversation was about motorcycles for a while, but then it shifted somehow to the scriptures—so smoothly and naturally that you couldn’t quite remember how it had happened. It was as if trail bikes and Bibles might have something to do with each other in the lives of these young men.
And maybe they do.

I loved the article “Practice Makes Possible” (Feb. 2004) by President Heber J. Grant. The influence this article had in my life was so great I decided to write to express my appreciation immediately.
A few months ago my mission president encouraged us to sing hymns during our discussions with investigators, but I was hesitant because I felt that I did not have a nice voice. As I read this article, I realized that my voice plays only a little role in carrying the hymn’s message to the heart of my investigators as compared to singing the hymn in the spirit in which it was written. I took the courage to put into practice the message I got from the article, and I have been successful these few times.Elder Aristotle Fokuo, Nigeria Port Harcourt Mission

2. Be Your Own Kind of Beautiful
The original idea was to have a single lily among a vase of roses. But a lily seemed too elegant to convey the intended message. A daisy was better—a symbol of the beauty in the ordinary.

Aaron traipsed along the hot, dusty road, pulling his wagon. The only sounds were the rattle of wheels over the lumpy ground and the clinking of coins in his pocket.
“Two dollars and 75 cents,” he thought. “Mrs. Murphy gave me much more than it costs to buy her a bag of flour and a sack of potatoes.”
Needing a rest, he sat in the shade of a wild olive tree on a stack of old fence posts in an empty field. He reached for his small canteen, emptied the last few drops of water into his mouth, and tossed the empty container back into the wagon.
A lizard crawled onto the end of one of the fence posts and stared at him. “It’s hot enough to turn even you belly up in the sun, you know that?” he told the reptile. “I guess that’s why you’re under this tree, like me.”
He pulled the coins from his pocket and eyed them. “Mrs. Murphy said this would be enough to buy what she needs,” he said, “which probably means she doesn’t expect anything back. Of course, she can hardly see enough to know a penny from a dime.”
Aaron squinted at the huge field of tall, dead weeds and twisted olive trees, their leaves almost glowing in the heat. “I’m sure Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t mind if I bought a tall glass of lemonade at the soda fountain. There will be enough money left over. Besides,” he reasoned, “I’ve earned it. It’s a half-mile between her place and town. She’s our neighbor, and I’m helping see to her needs, like Mom and Dad asked. But I have needs, too, like lemonade on a hot summer day. Since my canteen is empty, what choice do I have?”
He stood, and the lizard stiffened. “Even you lizards get thirsty. But all you have to do is find a fat, juicy spider. It doesn’t cost you a penny. But we humans have to pay for a drink when our canteens are empty. It’s just the way of things.”
Aaron stepped back onto the road but stopped short. Through the waves of heat, he saw something that looked like a bad dream—a large dog in the road, barking at him! He hurried off through the field. The dog didn’t chase him, but Aaron soon found himself up against another problem: his socks and pants were covered with foxtails.
When he reached the store, he sat on the curb and pulled the spiky weeds from his clothes. His father had once told him how foxtails are similar to bad habits: “Foxtails dig in and stick to whatever touches them, just as bad choices do. Once they become embedded, they are twice as hard to remove. It’s best to avoid them in the first place by staying on the better path.”
After Aaron cleaned off his clothes, he bought Mrs. Murphy’s food, loaded the flour and potatoes in his wagon, and headed down the street toward the soda fountain for a tall glass of cold lemonade. But his father’s words about wrong choices kept whispering to him.
Aaron stopped in front of the soda fountain and looked at the change in his hand. Then he looked again at the soda fountain. Then back at the leftover money. Then at the dirt road baked by the summer sun.
A half-hour later, Aaron pulled his wagon to a stop in front of Mrs. Murphy’s place. He was even more thirsty than before, having decided not to spend any of Mrs. Murphy’s change. He knew she would never have known the difference, nor perhaps even cared. But he would have known, and Heavenly Father would have known, too. Foxtails were enough of a problem in his socks. He didn’t like the idea of having to remove bad habits as well. That would be much more difficult. If he stayed away from making bad choices, he wouldn’t have to worry about creating bad habits.
He climbed Mrs. Murphy’s steps, carrying the sacks of flour and potatoes. Not only did he feel good as he handed her the change, but Mrs. Murphy gave him something else as well: the biggest and best glass of cold lemonade he had ever tasted.

Susa Young Gates, the official stenographer for the dedicatory services, attended the first session of the dedication. “I was sitting on the lower side of the east pulpits, at the recorder’s table,” she wrote. “Almost as soon as President [Joseph F.] Smith began to address the Saints, there shone through his countenance a radiant light that gave me a peculiar feeling. I thought that the clouds must have lifted, and that a stream of sunlight had lighted on the President’s head. … I looked out of the window, and somewhat to my surprise … there was not the slightest rift in the heavy, black clouds above the city; there was not a gleam of sunshine anywhere. … Whence had come the light that shone from the face of President Smith? I was sure that I had seen the actual Presence of the Holy Spirit, focussed upon the features of the beloved leader. … I cherish the occurrence as one of the most sacred experiences of my life.”
Sister Gates was not the only person to witness the light surrounding President Smith. An elder seated at the opposite end of the room saw a light of “yellowish or golden tint and exceedingly brilliant” appear around President Smith as he spoke.

It was about a sister who had been less active for several years and had no intention of going back to church. But an inspired bishop issued her a calling, and she gave up her bad habits and returned.

I met a great little family some time ago while attending a stake conference. They bore a sweet testimony to me of what the sacrament has come to mean to them. The father some years before had lost his job when a factory he had been working in had closed. Rather than move to another city to obtain new employment, he proposed that the family open a family fast- food business. The business was successful for several years; then a chain fast-food business opened up across the street and remained open seven days a week. In family council they determined that they must meet the competition. They would remain open on Sunday and take turns going to Church. After one year of seven-days-a-week operation, they discovered they were worn out, cross with each other, and complained about every little thing that would arise.

Another family council was called and the proposition presented that they close on Sunday to see if they could get back their family spirit. They soon discovered that the Lord’s system works. Even though sales were fewer, profits increased.

This story happened in Malaysia.
Claire heard the fish sizzling in the kitchen as she played with her little sister. While Mom and Dad cooked dinner for Lunar New Year, Claire and Chloe pretended to be the festival dragon.
Chloe giggled when Claire stomped through her room in her dragon mask and red shirt. Everyone was wearing red today. On Lunar New Year, red meant you’d be happy and strong. Claire loved her family’s Lunar New Year traditions!
“Mom, will we talk to Grandma and Grandpa today?” Claire asked when Chloe went to bed for a nap. Usually they celebrated with Grandma and Grandpa. But they were living in a different country now.
“Yes. We’ll call them after dinner,” Mom said. She wiped her hands on her red apron. “Do you want to help me make cookies?”
Claire nodded and climbed onto the chair by the table. She carefully cracked eggs into a big bowl.
While the cookies were baking, Claire helped Dad set the table. They put out the special holiday plates with pretty patterns on them. Then Claire put photos of Grandma, Grandpa, and other family members on the table. Setting out the photos helped make it feel like they were all together.
Soon the kitchen smelled like buttery cookies. It was time to eat! Claire, Chloe, and their parents sat around the table.
Claire said the prayer. “Thank Thee for another year to be with my family.” After everyone said amen, Claire put a sticky rice ball in her mouth and smiled. It was so good!
When dinner was over, Dad got out two red envelopes. This was another tradition. They meant good luck in the new year. “One for Claire and one for Chloe,” Dad said. Claire shook the envelope next to her ear. She listened to the coins clinking inside.
“Thank you,” Claire said to her parents. “Now can we call Grandma and Grandpa?”
“Of course!” Dad said. He set up his phone on the table, and Grandma’s and Grandpa’s smiling faces filled the screen. Claire and Chloe waved.
“Hi, Grandma! Hi, Grandpa!” Claire said. “We miss you so much!”
“We miss you too. How are you?” Grandma asked. Claire talked with them for a long time.
After Claire talked with Grandma and Grandpa, Mom asked them about people Claire didn’t know.
“Mom, who are those people?” Claire asked after they said goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa.
“They are some of our family members. I’m learning their names and stories so I can include them with our family history,” Mom said.
Claire thought about that. “What’s family history?”
“It’s when we learn about all of our family,” Dad said as Chloe climbed onto his lap. “The more we learn about our family, the stronger we become.”
Claire nodded. “Can you tell me the stories?”
“Of course!” Mom reached across the table and picked up the family photo album. She turned to an old photo in black and white. “This is Dad’s great-great-grandpa. He lived a long time ago. But we can feel close to him when we learn about his life.”
Claire looked at the photos while Mom and Dad told her stories. While she listened, she felt happy. She didn’t have to always be near her family to feel their love. She smiled. It was a very good Lunar New Year.
What’s your favorite family tradition?
Illustration by Hannah Li

In Mexico, President Russell M. Nelson was introduced in the national Chamber of Deputies (the lower house of Congress), and the Church was praised for the good it has done in defending religious freedom and in strengthening families. President Nelson also met with members and missionaries and said that members “are an active force for good in their communities.”

In his article “When Evil Appears Good and Good Appears Evil,” Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles discusses how he is especially concerned about climbing abortion rates. While visiting a Holocaust museum in 2016, he had a painful realization. He explains:
“It is believed that more than one million Jewish children were killed during the Holocaust.
“As I experienced the museum, I was overcome with emotion. Standing outside to regain my composure, I reflected on the horror of the experience and suddenly realized that in the United States alone, there are as many abortions every two years as the number of Jewish children killed in the Holocaust during the Second World War.
“The Jewish children were killed because they were Jews, and there is no analogue to this in all history, but the intensity of my feeling was about the loss of children.”

With sweat pouring down his face, Australian rugby star William Hopoate keeps his eye on the ball. His team, the Blues, representing New South Wales, is facing their rival, the Maroons from Queensland, in the biggest match of the year. After the first 20 minutes, Will’s team is behind and has to catch up quickly. Will has a lot to prove because this is his first match with the team. He is also the youngest player on his team and the second-youngest player ever to play in the State of Origin series.
Will watches as the ball is passed to his teammate and then thrown toward him. He jumps up to catch it. Caught! With the ball in hand, Will sprints toward the goal line. With the defense right beside him, he hurtles down the field. Just a few more yards. At the very edge of the field, between landing the goal and going out of bounds, Will is nearly out of time. He pushes himself forward, leaps toward the goal with faith, and slams the ball on the ground. Everyone pauses for a moment. Did he make it? Then he hears the audience erupt into cheers!

Hyrum B., age 7, South Dakota, USA, is the only one his age in his ward. He tries to be an excellent example at church and school. He has memorized all the Articles of Faith, and he is a good brother to his two younger brothers and younger sister. He is excited to be baptized soon.

President Spencer W. Kimball also recognized the benefits of taking on a challenging goal. He told this story of a goal he made when he was 14:
“When I heard a Church leader from Salt Lake City tell us at conference that we should read the scriptures, … I walked to my home a block away … and I read the first chapters of Genesis. …
“I found that this Bible that I was reading had in it 66 books, and then I was nearly dissuaded when I found that it had in it 1,189 chapters, and then I also found that it had 1,519 pages. It was formidable, but I knew if others did it that I could do it.”
That amount of reading wasn’t easy for a teenager, but nevertheless President Kimball persevered and completed his goal. As an adult, he said, “I have always been glad I read the Bible from cover to cover.”
President Kimball benefited from taking the time to think through the logistics of his goal. Even though it sounded daunting, the information prepared him to succeed. As was the case with President Kimball, reaching for and achieving a challenging goal at a young age can bring feelings of confidence and satisfaction to serve us throughout life.

With all of this in mind, I fasted. The first time, I fasted and prayed that I might withstand a particular temptation that had been bothering me. The results were miraculous. Not only did I withstand the temptation, but it ceased to be a temptation! Not only did I resist the sin, but I did not want to sin. And so I was immediately blessed.

Joan smiled and flashed her crossed fingers at Bob and Drew as she entered class. The three had completed a special class on how to take tests just in time for midterm exams. It came as no surprise when Mr. Smith, their history teacher, announced the midterm. Joan turned to section one of her notes from the test class: “What You Should Know about a Test.” Her hand flew into the air.
“Mr. Smith, what kind of test will it be?” she asked. “I mean, like true-false or multiple choice.”
“Multiple choice,” he replied.
“How many questions will there be?” Joan pressed.
“Fifty even,” responded the teacher.
Joan followed her outline. “What will the test cover—what chapters in the book? And will it cover our class notes, too?”
“The test will cover chapters one through five in the text and a handful of questions on your notes,” he replied.
“Can you be more specific about the class-note questions?” Joan persisted.
“There will be about ten questions from your notes, and they will cover the same period as your chapter on the revolutionary war through the civil war. Any more questions?” Mr. Smith asked with a smile.
“Yes,” Joan broke in. “Will we have the whole class period for the test?”
“No, we’ll take a little break for roll call,” Mr. Smith quipped.
Everyone laughed, but Joan continued, “You didn’t tell us when the test will be.”
“Right,” answered Mr. Smith. “You haven’t given me a chance! The test will be on Monday, one week from today.”
Bob groaned out loud. That was the same day as his English midterm. Drew Stevens tapped Joan on the shoulder. “Way to go,” he whispered. “Mr. Smith has never been pinned down like that before!”