Gospel Story Finder

Your Church leaders are ever ready to help you in your preparation, as are your parents. One young man’s parents encouraged him to choose carefully the music he listened to. He and his family listened to a talk by Elder Boyd K. Packer on choosing good music. He went to his room, sorted through his records, took a pile to the trash can and broke and discarded them. Following the principle of obedience helped prepare this young man to serve an honorable mission.

Carrie’s older brother tugged one of her thick blond braids. “Hey, Freckles, you ought to have the sheepshearers cut your hair, too.”
“Yeah,” chimed in her twin brother, “you have more wool than old Tim Buck.”
Nine-year-old Carrie made a face at her brothers. All three children were sitting on top of the strawstack at the far end of the sheep shed. Sheep, waiting to be sheared, moved about below them, bleating nervously. The shearing clippers buzzed, and men shouted orders as they threw the fleeces up into the wool bag.
Tim Buck, the huge lead ram, seemed to be the only calm one amid the confusion. He was penned apart and was munching on hay. Whenever he shook off flies, the large bell around his neck jingled.
“Carrie Helen!” shouted her dad. “Carrie Helen Shultz, please come here.”
Always anxious to please her father, she called back, “Coming!” Scooting off the strawstack, she ran to meet her dad.
“Carrie, I need you to go with Tim Buck to lead the sheep we’ve already sheared over to the south pasture. There are about a hundred ewes or so, plus the lambs. We have to make room for the next ones.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, grinning up at her brothers and throwing her shoulders back proudly.
Dad fastened one end of a stout rope to the lead sheep’s collar and handed the other end to Carrie. “OK, Carrie, Tim Buck’s ready. Remember what his job is.”
Without hesitating, Tim Buck started out of the holding pen. He showed no fear of Carrie and looked up at her with soft brown eyes, eyes filled with warmth and wisdom.
Confident of her own importance and of Tim Buck’s love, Carrie stepped out in front of the old sheep. She walked through the noisy ewes, who responded immediately to the sound of the lead sheep’s bell. As they followed Carrie and Tim Buck out of the corral gate, she felt their excitement as they rushed forward. They seemed to know that they were free now to go to the south pasture. Sensing their anticipation, and sure of her responsibility, Carrie tugged at the rope fastened to the sheep’s collar, pulling him toward the narrow bridge and her favorite shortcut to the south pasture.
But Tim Buck resisted Carrie’s tugging and headed toward the hill and the longer, usual route. Again Carrie pulled at the rope, trying to head the old sheep toward the bridge. Again Tim Buck resisted.
“Oh, why can’t you do it my way!” Carrie stamped her foot impatiently as Tim Buck stopped and refused to move. Though she pulled hard, her twenty-seven kilograms were no match against the weight of the huge sheep. When her arms began to tire, Carrie glared at Timi Buck and grumbled, “All right! I’ll do it your way this time. Come on. Let’s go up that long hill. At least we can cut across the hayfield and not have to take the long road around it.”
The ewes, confused at the delay, had begun to push forward, bleating worriedly. As Tim Buck moved forward, his bell started jingling, and the sheep quieted. When Carrie, walking a couple feet in front, quickened her step, Tim Buck quickened his. The hungry ewes also increased their pace. Out of breath, Carrie rushed to the top of the hill. “Now’s my chance,” she said, pulling tightly on Tim Buck’s rope, forcing his head toward the hayfield.
Tim Buck butted Carrie gently, loosening her grip. Then he moved toward the well-used road.
“Why, you ornery critter! Can’t you see how much easier it would be to cut across that field instead of going around it!” She yanked at the rope, trying to drag Tim Buck toward the hayfield. He looked at her, then shook his head forcefully. The bell jangled, and the ewes pressed forward as Tim Buck pulled away from the hayfield and moved quickly onto the familiar road. The rope started to slip through Carrie’s hands, but she held on tightly.
Half running, Carrie tried to get ahead of Tim Buck. But he only walked faster. The more she tried, the faster he went, and the faster he went, the faster came the ewes and lambs. Soon Carrie was caught between Tim Buck and the rushing sheep, and the rope was slipping out of her grasp. She clutched it desperately, even though it was burning her fingers.
Familiar with the road and quickened by hunger, the sheep hurried toward the open gate to the south pasture, where Tim Buck saw his own shortcut! He swerved suddenly from the road and down a steep slope. The sudden movement sent Carrie sprawling, and the rope was jerked out of her hands. The sheep quickly moved away from her and down the slope, following Tim Buck through the open pasture gate.
Carrie lay bewildered, hurt, and defeated. Sobbing, she struggled to her feet. With skinned knees and stinging hands, she stumbled back toward the sheep shed. With each step, she imagined her brothers’ teasing and her father’s disappointment.
Her dad met her in his truck before Carrie reached the shed. Stopping his truck, he got out and hurried over to her. Then, tilting her tear-stained face up for him to see, and putting one hand on her shoulder, he said, “It looks like you’ve had some troubles, honey.” He looked at her intently, but his voice was gentle and matter-of-fact. Seeing Carrie’s rope-burned hands, he dampened his handkerchief in some clean water and gently patted them while she told her story.
“So you wanted the sheep to take the shorter path across the bridge?” her father said when she had finished.
“It would have been much faster.”
“Do you think that all those sheep could have safely crossed that narrow bridge together?”
“Well,” Carrie hesitated. “I—I guess not. But they would have had plenty of room to cross the hayfield.”
“But, Carrie, do you remember how sick the sheep get when they eat too much hay? Do you know that most sheep can’t stop eating fresh hay once they get started?”
“Oh, Dad, I’m sorry,” Carrie sobbed.
“You’re lucky, Carrie, that Tim Buck wouldn’t allow the sheep to take a dangerous path.”
“Yeah, he’s really stubborn,” Carrie said.
“Perhaps he’s not as stubborn as he is committed to doing what he knows is right. Remember, Carrie, that he’s the lead sheep. He guides the others in the paths that will get them safely to where they want to go, just as Mom and I try to lead you along the right pathways so that you can return to live with Heavenly Father.”
Dad and Carrie got into the truck and he looked at her hands again to make sure that they weren’t seriously hurt. Then he drove toward the south pasture and stopped. Carrie was surprised when he got out of the truck and lifted her out too.
“All right, Carrie Helen. Now that you know why Tim Buck behaves as he does, do you think that you can take him back to get another bunch of sheep?”
“Yes, Dad. And this time I’ll let him lead the way.”

Everyone on the Mountain View cross-country team will tell you their coach is the greatest. Coach Houle could easily be mistaken for one of the students, except for the constant five o’clock shadow he wears. He’s fit and without gray hair. And he’s not LDS.
“I feel like we are really good friends,” says Amy Jo Allen, a four-year high school all-American at Mountain View who is now a sophomore at BYU. She remembers the time Coach Houle helped her figure out how she could run the mile in under five minutes. “I didn’t believe his strategy would work. But he was right. By my senior year, I pretty much knew when he said something would work, it would. I never would have run if he hadn’t told me I could.”

I remember the occasion more than 70 years ago when, as a missionary, I was speaking in an open-air meeting in Hyde Park, London. As I was presenting my message, a heckler interrupted to say, “Why don’t you stay with the doctrine of the Bible which says in John, ‘God is a Spirit’?”

I opened my Bible to the verse he had quoted and read to him the entire verse:

“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth” (John 4:24).

I said, “Of course God is a spirit, and so are you in the combination of spirit and body that makes of you a living being, and so am I.”

I felt nervous to go to a new school. I prayed for help. The Holy Ghost helped me be brave. Each day I felt a little less scared. Now I love going to school.
Lyla R., age 5, Alabama, USA

The Pearl of Great Price teaches that Moses was shown all the inhabitants of the earth, which were “numberless as the sand upon the sea shore” (Moses 1:28). If Moses beheld every soul, then it seems reasonable that the Creator of the universe has the power to become intimately acquainted with each of us. He learned about your weaknesses and mine. He experienced your pains and sufferings. He experienced mine. I testify that He knows us. He understands the way in which we deal with temptations. He knows our weaknesses. But more than that, more than just knowing us, He knows how to help us if we come to Him in faith. It also explains why the plan of salvation seemed familiar to my Japanese friend as the missionaries taught him and as the Holy Spirit confirmed his purposes on earth and his potential.

Growing up in the Church, I have always been engaged in a battle of knowing truths and keeping my testimony strong. I remember one Thursday morning in seminary, my instructor was teaching us about prophets and apostles. He said a phrase that was burned into my memory: “President Thomas Spencer Monson [who was the prophet at the time] is a prophet of God, and whoever has the desire to know if this is true can sincerely pray to find the answer.” His words really touched me.
When I got home that day, I got on my knees and asked Heavenly Father to let me know if President Monson was called as the prophet by Him. At that moment, I felt a great and sweet joy fill me—something inexplicable. From that day on, I knew that the warmth I felt at that moment came from God, and it confirmed my faith in the prophet. My love grew to the point that I knew I needed the prophet’s guidance in my life. I couldn’t do without it. I always wanted to listen and obey all his words from general conference. When I learned of President Monson’s death a few years later, I was deeply saddened, because my love for him was so strong.

For some years I served in the Primary. During that time, the children’s pages of Liahona (Spanish) were a great help in my calling. The articles also helped me to prepare lessons for family home evenings and to teach my five Primary-age daughters.
My soul is filled with gratitude for the good influence that the Liahona exercises in people’s lives. The magazine serves as a resource to help us understand the gospel message, obey the commandments, and develop faith in the Savior.
Viviana Garay AnguloTalcahuano Centro Ward, Talcahuano Chile Stake

Now, there are obviously some infantile inclinations we don’t encourage. Twenty-five years ago, my then-three-year-old grandson bit his five-year-old sister on the arm. My son-in-law, caring for the children that night, frantically taught his daughter all the lessons on forgiveness he could think of, concluding that her little brother probably didn’t even know what a bite on the arm felt like. That ill-conceived fatherly comment worked for about a minute, maybe a minute and a half, until there was a window-rattling cry from the children’s bedroom, where my granddaughter calmly called out, “He does now.”

It took me many years to learn how well Heavenly Father knows and loves each one of us. And when I finally had a better idea of this, I realized I had some sore repenting to do for the offenses I had caused Randa.
I called her and asked her forgiveness for all the unkind things I had said and done at her expense. She could only remember one time I was cruel. Her memory had been much kinder to me than mine was. She freely forgave me.

When Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was young, he wanted to be a basketball star. He was the best basketball player among his friends. In fact, he taught one of them how to play. But his friend grew very tall, and he did not. One of the hardest experiences of his young life was being cut from his school’s basketball team while his friend made it.
Because he did not succeed as a sports hero, Elder Maxwell turned to words. The personal tragedy of the moment turned out to be an eternal blessing for many Saints who have learned from his wisdom, spirituality, and insight.
Let his life be an example to you. Not all your prayers will be answered the way you’d like. But if you trust Heavenly Father, He will not betray that trust.

Introduce yourself. I’ve learned to seek out the bishopric and to introduce myself first thing so they know that I am new. After that, I make sure I know who the high priests group leader is because he will assign high priests as my home teachers. In addition, as a sister, I ensure I know who the members of the Relief Society presidency are. The ward clerk also needs my address and phone number, and he can request my records from my previous ward. These people have introduced me to other ward members, helped me find my way to ward and stake activities, and provided support when I have received a calling.
I used to sit in the last pew, close to the door, so that immediately following the closing prayer, I could dash out before anyone talked to me and asked me who I was. But walking in and out of meetings with your eyes cast down—or focused on the exit—does little to help you acclimate in a new ward.
Swallow your nervousness, and approach the person in front of you. Shake the hands of those who teach the classes you attend or who speak in sacrament meeting (you can meet them in the foyer afterward). If you take a moment to scope the room before you sit down, you can meet different individuals and families each time you attend a meeting. Be bold enough to ask for a ride to a ward or branch activity. It’s often easier to walk in with someone than to enter alone. Ask for a ward or branch directory; it will help you recall names. Before long, names and faces begin to match, and people are no longer strangers. Neither are you.

Jess remembers her younger brother as a super smart guy with a kind heart. She remembers the last funny sitcom they watched together and how he was laughing and seemed to be having a good time. And she remembers standing in front of their home just a few days later, watching the paramedics, realizing that her brother had just died from suicide.

“I felt everything from complete shock to devastation beyond anything I can explain to pure disbelief that this was even really happening,” she says. Their family, now grief-stricken, hadn’t realized he was in such pain.

I was a typical high school football player with a typical football vocabulary. I was one of the captains of the football team at El Segundo High School and didn’t have the best reputation. Glenda’s locker was a couple of lockers from mine, and whenever she walked by I suddenly improved my language. I worried that if I offended her she would avoid me.
As the semester progressed so did our mutual respect and friendship. She was unique, but I did not understand why. One thing I knew for sure, though, was that she never attended the parties I went to.
So, when she invited me to a Christmas party at her home, I didn’t know what to expect. Although I enjoyed my friends, I had seriously considered changing my bad habits. I was searching for something different. I was interested to see what kind of a party she would throw. I put on my best clothes, poured on the cologne, and off I went.
Was I surprised! I was shocked to see everyone having fun, dancing, playing games, and drinking—soft drinks! After a while, I couldn’t believe that I was having fun too. I was surprised to meet Glenda’s parents at the party, since all the parties I ever attended occurred while the parents were away. Most everyone was a bit surprised to see me. Still, they were all smiles and treated me with kindness.
As the evening ended I offered to provide rides home to anyone who needed one. Fortunately, one particular girl I had my eye on during most of the party needed a ride. I drove all around town dropping people off until we were alone. I drove her home very slowly.
I asked her what she was doing for Christmas, and she told me her family was leaving for Argentina the next day. What a small world, I thought. I briefly explained to her that my family had immigrated from Argentina 11 years ago. She said her father had served a mission there, and they were going to visit some of her father’s old friends. Soon we were at her home, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her what a mission was, but the seeds of curiosity were sown and so was my interest in her.

One day I was sad and grumpy. My mom said sometimes that just happens when you grow up. I got out my scriptures and started reading to my mom. I felt the Holy Ghost comfort me.
Abigail H., age 9, Île-de-France, France

I was nervous when I first started serving in the temple because I knew I would have to memorize the words to all the ordinances. I was worried I would mess up, so I spent hours studying the words to make sure I could get them right. And while I’ve heard stories of workers who felt like the Holy Ghost helped them memorize the words faster, that wasn’t my experience.
Sometimes I felt upset that I was struggling to memorize the words. Learning the words to the first ordinance took me almost a month. But looking back, I’ve realized that my struggle was an amazing blessing. I was able to sit in the Lord’s house and study the words of the ordinances for hours. And deepening my understanding of those words brought both peace and power into my life. I was able to recognize the voice of the Lord more clearly and more often when I was both inside and outside the temple.
This experience was a testament to me that Heavenly Father knows us personally and knows what experiences will be the most beneficial to us. The opportunity to contemplate the ordinances gave me a better understanding of what the ordinances say and strengthened my desire to keep the covenants I made in the temple.

In my earlier years of marriage, I found myself asking these questions and was discouraged by what I perceived to be the answers. Although my husband was an excellent father, I often felt irritated and angry. I wanted him to fit the image of what I thought he should be. I had certain ideals and goals that I wanted implanted in him.

One day, I turned to my father for advice. Because of his training as a psychiatrist, I knew he wouldn’t be too critical of his son-in-law. His first words were like a bucket of cold water over me: “Martha, if you continue like this, you could drive your husband away.”

My jaw dropped. “What do you mean by that?” I asked. This wasn’t going at all as I had expected.

He held up his hand to ward off my indignation. “Just let me explain. Not long ago, I counseled a Latter-day Saint woman who had left a basically good marriage. She felt her husband wasn’t living all the Church standards. Years of nagging and pleading hadn’t changed him. She thought that if she left him, he would change his ways in order to win her back. She never suspected that he would find someone else who loved and respected him as he was. He remarried happily after their divorce, and she was devastated.”

Why am I getting this lecture? I wondered. I had never considered leaving my husband. “Are you saying I should just quit being assertive and forget my own ideals?” I asked defensively.

“No, I’m saying lead but don’t drive. Be gentle in your persuasion while recognizing his strengths and achievements. Be an example without criticizing. In your rush to achieve your goals, you may be sending a silent message that he’s not good enough for you. He’s a good man, Martha, and he needs to know that you think so, too.”

I sat, unable to speak as tears welled in my eyes. I was torn. I understood my father’s words, but I expected my husband to be what I had always dreamed of.

My father tried a different approach. “Have you heard the story about the farmer who hitched two mice to his wagon? His neighbor saw him climbing into the wagon and laughed at the farmer. ‘You don’t really expect those two little mice to pull that wagon, do you?’ he asked. The farmer replied, ‘Why not? I have a whip.’”

I laughed in spite of myself. The image of me in the wagon was clear. I had been using anger and resentment as my whip, with just about the same chance for success.

“Okay, I guess I am being too pushy,” I said. “But I see other men who lead the way I want to be led. Is it wrong to expect that?”

Dad’s voice was gentle but firm. “You are going about this with the wrong attitude. One of the most treacherous developments in any marriage is when partners wonder if they made the right choice. The marriage begins to fall apart because they quit working at it.”

“Dad,” I interrupted, “it’s because I love him that I get discouraged. I want him to reach his full potential.”

“It’s all a matter of loyalty. Do you realize that disloyalty begins with your thoughts—that you are actually being disloyal when you compare your husband to others?”

I was losing my argument fast, and I knew it. I tried one more time: “My commitment to him is eternal. The day-to-day choices he makes as the priesthood leader affect the family eternally.”

“Patience and love are eternal, too.” He opened his scriptures and read: “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;

“By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile” (D&C 121:41–42).

I knew these verses. They were written for priesthood holders about exercising unrighteous dominion. Why was he reading them to me?

“These two verses,” he explained, “contain the elements for success in any relationship—and especially the relationship between husband and wife. One of the great challenges in marriage is to accept all the differences in personality, background, and motivation—and to work toward being one in purpose. That’s no easy task, and it may take a lifetime. But as you pointed out, marriage is an eternal commitment.”

Then he told me about a farmer he had known when he was a boy. The man used to catch wild horses in northern Arizona. They were free and available to anyone who wanted to catch them, but they were difficult to tame and train. Late at night, he would round up part of the herd into a temporary corral near the watering hole. Then he would select the best one and tie one end of a cotton rope around its neck and the other end to his strong white mule, leaving just enough space for them to travel side by side. Then he would leave them in the desert to work out their own compromises.

The mule knew the way home and would gladly travel in that direction. If the horse tried to go another way, the mule would stand firm and not go. If the mule got off track, the horse would be unwilling to move. So it went until they had worked through their differences. Within two weeks, the two would come trotting home to food and shelter. The horse would be ready for training, and it and the mule would behave as though they had been together all their lives. Dad added, “I almost left out the most important part: that rope around their necks was a very soft rope.”

I began to see the connection between the story and the scripture he had quoted—and I knew it wasn’t about being as stubborn as a mule. Marriage commits us in purpose as surely as that rope between the mule and the horse. Even though we recognize our ultimate destination, we don’t always travel in the same direction or at the same pace to get there. The soft strands of the rope that tie us together—representing love, patience, commitment, and faith—should prevent the rope from chafing. If the rope material is too rough, one of the partners might decide to cut it rather than endure pain and suffering.

I had misunderstood. Was I really willing to have a dynamic, take-charge leader for a husband and stand in his shadow, being pulled toward a goal or ideal? On the other hand, I wondered how much my husband appreciated being dragged along by my unwavering zeal.

I have studied the last six verses of Doctrine and Covenants 121 with new understanding. The principles they teach have strengthened and enriched my marriage. When one partner is less enthusiastic about the path they are following, it’s easy to blame the other partner—and that is what I had been doing.

I’m grateful to my father for a gentle reminder that made such a difference in my life. The deep love and respect my husband and I enjoy in our seventeen-year marriage is a product of my father’s advice. Each time I’m tempted to be domineering, I hear my father’s words: “He’s a good man, Martha, and he needs to know that you think so, too.”

Thanks, Dad. You’re so right.

For some time I considered myself “graduated” from the New Era, but we continued to receive it because my husband teaches a teenage Sunday School class. I would read snatches of it during the baby’s nap time or whenever I had nothing else to read. I am from the England Leeds Mission originally and so the participatory journalism “The Journey” caught my eye when I picked up the July New Era today. What a beautiful story! I was able to relive my trips to the London Temple and remember all the different scenery and landmarks that I haven’t seen for so long. Sister Dunne made me homesick. After such a good start, how could I put the magazine down? I especially enjoyed “There Is a Law” and “How Do You Tithe a Car?” Now the baby’s entire nap time is gone, and I didn’t do any of the things I told myself I’d do, but thank you for taking up my time so wonderfully.
Judith AdamsWaycross, Georgia

It was an emotional trip from New Zealand to England, the land where Kathy Waterson was born. Raised in Southport by her adoptive parents, Kathy brought her family (pictured) to visit her hometown. At fifteen her adoptive parents had taken her to a new life in New Zealand. Years later, after both adoptive parents died, Kathy found an adoption order in both hers and her birth mother’s name. Kathy recalls: “I don’t know why my adoptive mother had the certificate, but it made me determined to find my birth family.” Collaborating with a lady online, Kathy put an advert in the local papers and was soon in contact with her maternal Aunt.
Kathy remembers: ‘Through her I discovered more about my late mother and cousins. In 2007 I travelled back to England for the first time. I met with family and friends. It was wonderful. We had no extended relations in New Zealand so finally, at 59, I belonged to a big family.” Kathy also visited her birth mother’s anonymous grave. Kathy arranged to add her mother’s name and had ‘Mother of Kathleen’ engraved on the stone, as her mum had never had any more children. “This was an emotional and proud moment. I was doing something that acknowledged my mum’s existence and that I was her daughter.” Kathy recalls.
Since then, Kathy has returned to England several times, building relationships with her extended family. Recently, Kathy and her family attended The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Southport. As members in New Zealand, they knew that at Church they could access genealogical help and advice. With that help Kathy found her adoptive grandmother’s grave. Kathy returned to New Zealand and is now hoping that DNA searches will lead her to locating her paternal family too.

I recall a story of a Latter-day Saint boy in military service. He was the only Latter-day Saint in his barracks, and he soon wearied of the jibes of his associates. One day when the going was particularly rough, he finally agreed to go into town with the crowd. But as they entered the town, there came before his mind’s eye a picture. He saw the kitchen of his home. It was supper time. There was his family, kneeling at the kitchen chairs—his father, mother, two sisters, and a small brother. The little brother was praying, and he was asking our Heavenly Father to look after his brother in the military.
That mental picture did it. The young man turned away from the crowd. The prayer of that little brother, of that family, brought clarity of mind and courage to that Latter-day Saint youth.