Gospel Story Finder

One of the highlights of the tour was at the Great Lakes Naval Base in Illinois where two officer trainees had seen the Sounds perform, talked with the missionaries, and announced at the preshow warm-up two nights later that they were to be baptized that week.
“You taste a little bit of the truth and want more and more,” said Bill Harvey, one of the officer trainees. “I have to join the Church to satisfy that thirst. I just hope that the Lord will be able to use my life so I can be a missionary and teach other people. That’s what I really want to do now.”

Thank you for the April New Era. The photos are very special. I am always fond of seeing pictures from other countries. The articles about missionary work and the Message are very inspiring. I also liked the story “The Flowers of Early Summer,” but I am most excited about Chris and Tom Osmond’s article. I admire the Osmond family very much because it was through their music and their way of life (which I got to know from magazine articles) that I developed my interest in the Church. I have not had a chance to express my thanks to them personally, but I would like to do so through this letter.
I am also thankful for my American penpal Caryn Washburn, who had a great influence on me. We are still good friends, and the Church has helped us to feel closer to each other.
I am very thankful for my testimony. I love being active in the Church. I have been Sunday School secretary for four months, and I know that the Lord helps us whenever we try to serve him well. I know that the Lord lives. I know that Jesus is the Christ and that he has died for the sins of every one of us.
Gabriele Kegel-WannagutFrankfurt, Germany

Elder Wirthlin learned the first important key to happiness from a dog his family owned when Elder Wirthlin was a child. The dog, named Ruff, would run away at the sound of any loud noise. Elder Wirthlin said that, like his former dog, people run away from worthwhile goals and relationships because of fear.

The second example of lives filled with service, with which I shall conclude, is the missionary experience of Juliusz and Dorothy Fussek, who were called to fill an 18-month mission in Poland. Brother Fussek was born in Poland. He spoke the language. He loved the people. Sister Fussek was born in England and knew little of Poland and nothing of its people.

Trusting in the Lord, they embarked on their assignment. The living conditions were primitive, the work lonely, their task immense. A mission had not at that time been fully established in Poland. The assignment given the Fusseks was to prepare the way so that the mission could be expanded and gain permanence, that other missionaries be called to serve, people taught, converts baptized, branches established, and chapels erected.

Did Elder and Sister Fussek despair because of the enormity of their assignment? Not for a moment. They knew their calling was from God, they prayed for His divine help, and they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to their work. They remained in Poland not 18 months, but rather served for five years. All of the foregoing objectives were realized. Such came about following an earlier meeting where Elders Russell M. Nelson, Hans B. Ringger, and I, accompanied by Elder Fussek, met with Minister Adam Wopatka of the Polish government, and we heard him say, “Your church is welcome here. You may build your buildings, you may send your missionaries. You are welcome in Poland. This man,” pointing to Juliusz Fussek, “has served your church well, as has his wife. You can be grateful for their example and their work.”

On a recent trip to Hermanus, South Africa, I learned the importance of agency. This small coastal town is about a 90-minute drive from Cape Town and is one of the many beautiful beach towns along the coast. The waves were rolling in as I headed down to the beach to surf with a friend.
Once we had off-loaded the surfboards, I stood in the warm white sand and stared at the beach, squinting at the sun in disbelief. The lifeguard had already put up the swimming zone flags, but they were less than 50 meters (165 feet) apart! The beach was several hundred meters long, and all the good waves were outside the swimming zone. How was anybody supposed to swim between those two red-and-yellow striped flags? Was he just being lazy because he didn’t want to watch all the way down the beach?
My friend and I are pretty good swimmers, so we decided to head out to the right of the flagged area. As I walked out through the white water, I could feel the strong pull of the water washing past my legs, but I could still stand against the current, so I kept going. When I was in deep enough, I got on my board and paddled out to the unbroken swells. The waves kept coming, and we surfed for a while, enjoying catching the waves and watching each other catch the waves.
I turned around to look at the beach and suddenly noticed that I was rapidly drifting away from where I had started—the flags were far away! What I didn’t know about and couldn’t see was a large sandbar on the ocean floor, and as the tide was coming in, the water was washing over the sides of the sandbar, creating a powerful wash on both sides of the flagged area. The lifeguard knew that; he had been sitting there the whole day watching the water, so he knew where it was safe to swim.
I turned my board around and began paddling back toward the swimming zone. I paddled my hardest, but there was no way I could swim against the strong current. I was drifting farther out to sea! Panicking, I got off my board and tried to walk. My feet just touched the ocean floor, and I felt my toes dragging in the sand beneath. I could not hold myself against the thousands of tons of water moving past me, so I had to get back on my board. I lay there, powerless and drifting. I waved to my friend to help, but he was caught by the same current.
“Would the lifeguard still rescue me, even though I had ignored his warning?” I wondered. I had made the decision to swim in the no-swim zone and now had to accept the consequence—loss of control. I was being pulled by forces much stronger than I was. My only hope was to catch a wave back to the beach before I was pulled into the sharp rocks at the end of the beach. Eventually, a wave came, and I managed to ride it back to shore as did my friend.
We sheepishly walked back to the swimming zone and enjoyed the rest of the day surfing between the flags. Each time one of us began drifting too close to the edge of the swimming zone, we would warn each other to come back.

The wind is cold;
The air is damp.
We stay indoors
And light the lamp.
We build a fire,
Warm and bright,
And watch it shine
Its golden light.
We read a book
And play a game,
While we forget
November came.

I have two big things in my life: church and sports. I found out that I had to combine the two when I tried out for my high school basketball team.
I started going to practice during the summer right before my freshman year. As I got to know the older players and their personalities, they started to notice I didn’t do a lot of things they did—I didn’t cuss, smoke, do drugs, look at pornography, or even go on dates yet. They started to make fun of me slightly. In a high school of about 1,500 students, only 4 of us are members of the Church. So you can guess we got teased a bit. But it didn’t bother me much, and I was happy to stand up for what I knew was true.
As the season drew on, my teammates started to ask me more about the Church. There weren’t big, important questions, just things like “Why don’t you date?” Then one day during study hall, some of the players started talking about their families, and that conversation turned to religion. So they asked deeper questions about the Church like “What is repentance?” and “Do you believe in a heaven and a hell?”
I always carry a copy of For the Strength of Youth in my backpack, so I pulled it out to help answer their questions. We talked about the Church for over an hour. When it was over, there were two questions I could not answer. I promised to look up the answers and get back to them. That night I looked up the answers, and my mom suggested I bring extra copies of For the Strength of the Youth and also the book True to the Faith.
The next day while we studied together, when the boys asked questions, I pulled out the books and passed them around. We had another long and deep discussion about the Church. I asked if anyone wanted to keep the books, and some people did. Later that week we had another talk about other churches, not just mine, and my coach, who is very religious, talked about his and other beliefs.
I don’t know if anything good will come out of this, but I know that my team members now know more about the true gospel and why I am different from them. My testimony had been strengthened, and I have gained the courage to talk about and stand up for what I know is right and true.

When my husband, Mark, and I lived with our five small children on the east coast of the United States, we lived in a house that had an oil furnace. To check the oil level, we would put a measuring stick into the tank. And if the oil was low, we would call the heating oil company to come fill the tank.
During an unusually cold January, we were having financial problems. I even took a part-time job in the evenings at a restaurant to supplement our income, but we still had trouble making ends meet. It finally came down to the choice of paying tithing or paying to heat our house. We measured the oil and it came to two inches (5 cm). That would last only a day or two. But we decided to put our faith in the Lord and pay our tithing.
The next day, Mark measured the oil again. It was still at two inches. Mark measured it again the following day, and it was still at two inches. The heat was coming on, but the oil was not going down. The next two days, the oil remained at two inches. I remember crying tears of joy at night when I heard the heat come on. Our furnace was not running on oil; it was running on faith.
I felt like the widow who fed the prophet Elijah and found that her “barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil fail” (1 Kings 17:16). When payday finally came, Mark once again measured the oil. This time it measured at one inch (2.5 cm). Now the oil was going down, but we had money to fill the tank.
Our family had tested the Lord’s promise found in Malachi 3:10: “And prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”
Our family will never forget when our oil furnace ran on faith instead of oil.

Cancer? Me? I thought only people in big cities got cancer. After biopsies and close examinations by competent specialists, I learned the problem I was having with the swelling in my right forearm was an osteogenic sarcoma. Translated, it meant I had a type of bone cancer which, in those days, was nearly always fatal, even with the amputation of the affected limb.
Fatal! I was 19; having something fatal had never crossed my mind. I was excited to serve my mission, marry in the temple, have a great family, and enjoy a wonderful life. Still I loved the Lord, and I knew He loved me. Whether He allowed me to remain here or leave this life, it would be OK.
The immediate outcome was the loss of my right arm. The extended outcome has proven to be a lifetime of adventure. As I look back, I can honestly say the loss of my arm, rather than being a tragic experience, has been one of my greatest blessings. I have learned and gained so much from it.
The adjustment was interesting. I had been working in logging and road-building operations in the Pacific Northwest woods, so my body was strong. But I was extremely right-handed, and that greatly-depended-upon arm was truly missed. Although I could formerly throw a baseball farther than anyone on the team, with my left arm I could throw a ball only a short distance. Writing was really interesting. My penmanship could have been improved on by almost any preschool child. Everything was a challenge: tying shoes, buttoning shirts, carrying large objects, driving, shaving, drawing, eating, being stared at, enduring phantom pain, and so on.
Very quickly I came to realize I had much to get used to, to learn, and to relearn. I also realized there was very little I could do about the fact that I had only one arm, and my attitude about that fact—and in life in general—was totally up to me. I was at a crossroads. It was apparent I could cry if I wanted to, or I could handle this and all other challenges with faith and a positive attitude. My happiness and eternal well-being were dependent upon my choice.
The decision was simple. I chose to be positive, creative, very active, and to do everything possible to fulfill my destiny as a son of God, sent to grow from an earthly experience. Once made, this choice was firm and I never looked back.

Even if you feel your talents are small, you can still achieve. Where the desire is strong, seemingly weak talents may be strengthened and developed. As a boy, President Heber J. Grant became aware of some limitations. He was not blessed with athletic talent. He could not sing well—in fact he couldn’t even carry a tune. He could not write legibly.
With a burning desire to achieve, and through long and consistent hours of practice, he became a member of the state-championship baseball team. He learned to sing many of the Latter-day Saint hymns. He became an expert penman and supplemented his income by writing Christmas cards.
President Grant summarized his achievements with these words from Ralph Waldo Emerson: “That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do, not that the nature of the thing itself is changed, but that our power to do is increased.” (Heber J. Grant, Gospel Standards, Salt Lake City, Utah: The Improvement Era, 1941, p. 355.)

In Thailand in the late 1970s, Sister Srilaxana worked as a translator of the scriptures five days a week and then traveled throughout her country at her own expense each weekend, visiting fledgling Relief Societies. These followers of Christ did what it was in their souls to do to serve God’s children. They did what their individuality permitted, and their examples invite us to do the same.

When I was 16, I didn’t get along with my twin brother at all. We fought about everything. One day he humiliated me at school with an intensely critical and personal attack in front of a group of friends. His actions and hurtful words left me devastated in a way my teenage self could not bear. Even when our parents confronted him about the incident, he never said he was sorry. For years I held onto the pain.
He was still on his mission when I received my own mission call. I was preparing to enter the temple and began to reflect on my life to find where I needed to change to feel prepared to go to the temple. I realized that even though I didn’t often think about what my brother did, I still needed to forgive him.
My brother had hurt me more than anyone else, and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to forgive him. So I prayed for help from Heavenly Father.
With His help, I decided to start writing my brother regularly on his mission. Before that, I’m sorry to admit, I hardly wrote him at all. Then I sent him a package. When I left on my mission, he came with my parents to the missionary training center and gave me a hug. He even wrote me a few times.
I know that even though it may take time, with Heavenly Father’s help, we can let the past remain in the past.

Another moving story of loyalty is that of Stephen Markham, who appeared in the Prophet’s later life at nearly every occasion of peril. When Joseph was imprisoned in Missouri, Stephen Markham brought the Smith family safely to Illinois. 15 When Joseph was illegally detained and abused by two Missouri constables, it was Stephen Markham who defied them, shamed them into humane behavior, and helped prevent the Prophet’s abduction to Missouri.16 At Carthage, it was Brother Markham who offered to trade clothes and help the Prophet escape.17 On the day of the martyrdom, Brother Markham was returning to the jail with medicine for Willard Richards when the conspiring guards challenged him, attacked him, and finally forced him away at bayonet point to keep him from returning to the Prophet. Prodded onto his horse, he was poked so many times that his boots filled with blood.18 Joseph Smith’s last journal entry records a prophecy spoken to Stephen Markham that “if I and Hyrum were ever taken again, we should be massacred.”19 The measure of Brother Markham’s love is his brave effort to prevent that prophecy’s fulfillment.

Church activities form another part of their lives. Mike works with the Explorers in the Alpine Fourth Ward, Alpine Utah Stake. He and a couple of other members in the stake took the Explorers to the National Explorer Olympics at Fort Collins, Colorado, for a week in August 1978. Mike coached basketball and helped coach volleyball during the Olympics. Mike says some of the Explorers in his ward like to double date with Jan and him.

Rob Kimpel, 12, of Sparta, Wisconsin, knows how to endure to the end—to the end of a race that is. Rob loves to run and has been running and entering races for half his life.
His parents have never pushed their son to participate in running; he just enjoys it. Rob runs the 4 1/2 miles to school and is proud to announce that he is the best runner in class competitions. His accomplishments go beyond school races. He finished second in the 19-and-under division in the town’s nine-mile run. His goal is to be on the track team in junior high and high school and possibly someday run in the Olympics.
Rob is a good student and recently took fourth in a city-wide speech competition. He serves in the Sparta Wisconsin Branch of the Rochester Minnesota Stake as music director for sacrament meetings. He also plays the piano and violin and has performed in church.

I love going to places where Jesus walked, like near the River Jordan, where Jesus was baptized. When I’m at these spots, I walk around quietly near people who are worshipping Jesus by lighting candles and kneeling in prayer. I always feel in my heart that Heavenly Father and Jesus are happy when people show love for Them.

Frank Fourie, first counselor in the Capetown South Africa Stake presidency, belongs to one of several such families who have been members for more than fifty years. Recalling his late mother Johanna’s conversion, he says: “Mother had several gospel queries which our minister could not explain. She warned him: ‘If I find a church that does have the answers, I will have to join it!’
“In 1934, Latter-day Saint missionaries knocked at our door, were invited in, and answered every question. Mother and we children were baptized in the Old Hall at Mowbray, now demolished. Looking up at a picture of the Salt Lake Temple on the wall, she vowed she would go there one day. It was during the Depression, so her dream seemed unlikely, but it came true in later years.” Johanna served as a Primary president for many years. “I have a copy of Cumorah’s Southern Messenger [a Latter-day Saint publication of an earlier era] describing her eightieth birthday party while still serving in this calling,” President Fourie says.

We had a busy weekend. Dad talked with Mrs. Thompson Saturday morning, and she said she couldn’t wait till Tuesday. So the missionaries came that night and the next night, and tonight too. And she asked to be baptized! Heavenly Father answered our prayers, even though it wasn’t the way I expected. The Browns are still our friends, and maybe someday they’ll want to learn about the Church and get baptized too. I hope so. Meanwhile, I’ve already written to tell Nancy the good news about Mrs. Thompson. I guess I know a little about how she feels being a missionary. It feels GREAT!
I felt sad all day because the Browns don’t want to listen to the missionaries. Then this afternoon the most amazing thing happened! I went to Mrs. Thompson’s house to rake leaves again. While I was raking, she came out with some milk and cookies for me, and we sat down on the porch. We started talking about families. She thinks our family is pretty special. I told her that Mom and Dad were married in the Washington Temple and that that means we’ll be together forever. She got tears in her eyes and asked me if there was a way she could learn more about being married forever. I said, “Sure—just come over to our house next Tuesday, and the missionaries will teach you.” And she’s going to come!
Dad and I raked leaves for Mrs. Thompson across the street. She’s old and can’t do it for herself. Dad says that doing things for other people is part of missionary work. I think it made her happy. Her husband died last summer, so she needs help with some things, I guess she’s lonely too.

I know a family where a father gave a blessing to his son who had been elected to an office at school. This is a family to whom living the gospel is a blessing itself and a personal privilege as well as a duty. Here was a chance for the son to be a light unto the world as a student leader. With the blessing he was given extra and important strengths, and he felt sustained in his new activity.

In school I had to think of something good to say about someone I had bad feelings toward. This person had ripped off my flag in Capture the Flag, and I felt defeated. After I thought about it, I was able to write that she was good at Capture the Flag. Then I felt better. And, hey—she was good at Capture the Flag!
Trent L., age 10, Utah, USA