Gospel Story Finder

Shortly after my father began walking again, I received a letter from my mother. She had returned to Japan and was working in a factory in the city of Fukui. “Come to Japan,” she wrote. “I can get you a job.” I became excited about living in the land of my ancestors and decided to go.
When I arrived in 1992, I was intrigued by the technology and other conveniences available in the country. But I also faced many new challenges. I had a job, and although I looked Japanese, I couldn’t speak Japanese. I struggled to learn the language. My coworkers were not always patient with me.
Despite my Christian background, I had never attended church nor read the Bible regularly. But now, as I faced these obstacles, I remembered how my father’s faith had given him strength. My thoughts turned increasingly to God.

It has been about two months since I became a member of the Church, and I would like to say that I am grateful for the articles I read in the New Era. They help me live the gospel and become a better person. I am proud to tell you that my testimony of the Church is growing every day. This has happened because of prayer and reading the Book of Mormon and the New Era.
Stephen MumesulaJinja, Uganda

A few years ago, I was interviewing missionaries. A winter storm was blowing in as missionaries came and went throughout the day. The storm changed from icy rain to snow and back again. Some missionaries arrived by train from nearby cities and walked to the church through the storm. Others rode their bicycles. Almost without exception they were cheerful and happy. They were the Lord’s missionaries. They had His Spirit and felt joy in His service regardless of their circumstances.
As each companionship concluded their interviews, I will never forget watching them go back out into the storm to preach the gospel and do what the Lord had called them to do. I could see their commitment and dedication. I could feel the love they had for the people and for the Lord. As I watched them leave, I felt an overwhelming love for them and for what they were doing.
Later that night I attended a priesthood meeting in the same city. The storm had continued and was now mostly snow. During the opening song, the branch president of the smallest and farthest branch and his two missionary counselors, Elder Warner and Elder Karpowitz, came into the chapel. As they got ready to sit down, these two wonderful missionaries took off their winter hats and gloves. They took off their outer coats. Then they each took off a second winter coat and sat down. Like the missionaries earlier in the day, despite the weather these missionaries were happy. They felt the Spirit of the Lord in their lives. Through service in the Lord’s cause, they felt a certain love and warmth and joy that are difficult to describe.
As I watched these great young missionaries that evening, I had a remarkable experience. In my mind’s eye, I saw missionaries throughout the mission going out into that winter night. Some were knocking doors and facing rejection as they sought to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some were in homes or apartments teaching individuals and families. In spite of the conditions they faced, they were doing what they could to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ to those who would listen, and they were happy. Into my heart came a feeling that I cannot fully explain.
By a wonderful gift of the Spirit, I felt His love, the pure love of Christ that He has for faithful missionaries everywhere, and it changed me forever. I understood how precious each missionary is to Him. I caught a glimpse of what prophets would describe as the “greatest generation of missionaries” the world has ever known (see M. Russell Ballard, in Conference Report, Oct. 2002, 50; or Ensign, Nov. 2002, 47). I began to understand why it was necessary to raise the bar so that missionaries everywhere would be entitled to the protection, direction, and happiness that accompany the Spirit of the Lord. I also began to understand why—as parents, bishops, stake presidents, and other leaders—we must do everything we can to help the young people of the Church become worthy of the blessings of missionary service.

Dressed in their homemade, bright yellow, tie-dyed shirts, the young women of the Concord Second Ward in Walnut Creek, California, raised their flag of virtue after hiking to the top of nearby Mount Diablo.
Following an inspiring fireside focused on the importance of virtue, each young woman took a strip of yellow fabric and wrote her pledge of virtue on it. Then they tied all the strips of fabric to a discarded tree branch. The next morning, the young women carried their banner on a hike around the summit of Mount Diablo, hoisting it high as a standard to the world at a point overlooking their homes in the valley below. The young women linked arms, symbolizing their unity in following the standards of the gospel and in their love for each other and for the Savior.
Beehive Morgan March said, “As we stood together as a group of Young Women, it made me feel grateful for all of the girls who had the same values as me. As we go through hard times we always know that there are people with our same standards.”

I close with another example of a family relationship. At a stake conference in the Midwest about 10 years ago, I met a sister who told me that her nonmember husband had been accompanying her to church for 12 years but had never joined the Church. What should she do? she asked. I counseled her to keep doing all the right things and to be patient and kind with her husband.

About a month later she wrote me as follows: “Well, I thought that the 12 years was a good show of patience, but I didn’t know if I was being very kind about it. So, I practiced real hard for over a month, and he got baptized.”

Kindness is powerful, especially in a family setting. Her letter continued, “I am even trying to be kinder now because we are working on a temple sealing this year!”

Six years later she wrote me another letter: “My husband was [just] called and set apart as the bishop [of our ward].”

When Brad was six he helped give a five-year-old girl with a congenital defect similar to his own the courage she needed to undergo an amputation so she could get an artificial limb and walk normally instead of having to hobble about with a lift and a brace.

Another proclamation was issued on April 6, 1845, by the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, over nine months after the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum Smith. The Lord commanded Church leaders to make this proclamation in a revelation received January 19, 1841 (see Doctrine and Covenants 124:2–4). The proclamation was first printed and distributed in New York, New York, USA, in April 1845 and then in Liverpool, England, in October 1845. This document addressed the leaders of all nations and proclaimed that the heavens were open and the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. It also contained an invitation for all to assist in God’s work.
“To all the kings of the world; to the president of the United States of America; to the governors of the several states; and to the rulers and people of all nations:
“Greeting. Know ye that the kingdom of God has come, as has been predicted by ancient prophets, and prayed for in all ages; even that kingdom which shall fill the whole earth, and shall stand for ever.”5

Now, isn’t that wonderful? Now another. A young man in Mexico City was approved to receive a loan of approximately $1,000 to make it possible for him to attend school to become a diesel mechanic. He has said: “My promise is to give my best in order to feel satisfied with my efforts. I know this program is valuable and important. Because of this, I am trying to take maximum advantage of this for the future. I will be able to serve and help the poor and help counsel my family members. I thank my Father in Heaven for this beautiful and inspired program.”

But God does not work this way. The father in this story does not tantalize his children. He does not mercilessly measure them against their neighbors. He doesn’t even compare them with each other. His gestures of compassion toward one do not require a withdrawal or denial of love for the other. He is divinely generous to both of these sons. Toward both of his children he extends charity. I believe God is with us the way my precious wife, Pat, is with my singing. She is a gifted musician, something of a musical genius, but I couldn’t capture a musical note with Velcro. And yet I know she loves me in a very special way when I try to sing. I know that because I can see it in her eyes. They are the eyes of love.

On June 6, 1994, the day after Howard W. Hunter (1907–1995) was set apart as President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he extended two invitations to the members of the Church. Speaking with a tone of gentle encouragement, he said: “First of all, I would invite all members of the Church to live with ever more attention to the life and example of the Lord Jesus Christ, especially the love and hope and compassion He displayed. …
“I also invite the members of the Church to establish the temple of the Lord as the great symbol of their membership and the supernal setting for their most sacred covenants. It would be the deepest desire of my heart to have every member of the Church be temple worthy.”1
From that moment on, all my thoughts turned to the house of the Lord. At that time, I had been in the Church for three years and it was the first time to watch a living prophet on television. This event has remained engraved in me to this day. Fifteen years later, in 2009, I entered the temple for the first time with my wife for our endowment and sealing. It was then that I had a deeper testimony of the truthfulness of the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ—for Joseph Smith the Prophet could not have devised all of this when he himself was a man with very little formal education. Rather, that there is a Supreme Being who revealed to him all these things.

Yes, the Lord hears and answers our prayers, but we have to do our part! At one time in my professional career, things were not going well and I was praying fervently every day for an improvement in my situation. At the time, I was a member of the Mutual Improvement Association General Board, and I went to board meeting one night with a heavy heart. At the start of the meeting, we recited the MIA theme for that year, which was taken from Doctrine and Covenants 90:24: “Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good, if ye walk uprightly.” [D&C 90:24]
I had recited that scripture many times, but that night I was more sensitive to the whisperings of the Spirit, and the realization came to me: That’s it! That’s the answer to my prayers. Pray always and be believing. Do my part and the Lord will open the way.
Just a few weeks later a new opportunity came that changed my life for the better.

My great-grandfather Henry Ballard joined the Church in February 1849 in Thatcham, England, as a 17-year-old. To pay for his voyage to America, Henry contracted his services for two years to a company owned in part by Lorenzo and Erastus Snow. He was hired to drive a herd of sheep west to the Salt Lake Valley. Henry described his entrance into the valley in the following words:

“In October as I drove the sheep down little mountain and through the mouth of Emigration Canyon, I first beheld the Salt Lake Valley. While I rejoiced in viewing the ‘Promised Land,’ I lived in fear that someone might see me. I hid myself behind bushes all day until after dark for the rags I had on did not cover my body and I was ashamed to be thus exposed. After dark I crossed over the field to a house where a light was shining … and timidly knocked on the door. Fortunately, a man answered the door and the candle light did not expose me to the view of the other members of his household. I begged for clothes to cover my naked body so that I might continue my journey and locate my parents. I was given some clothing and the next day continued my journey and arrived in Salt Lake City 16th October, 1852, feeling very thankful to God that I had reached my future home in safety.”7

Thanks so much for printing “A Positive Note” in the April 1993 magazine. I am constantly criticizing myself, and the article helped me realize I am a special person. This article gave me an idea: I’m going to look for kids at school who need “a positive note.” Thanks, New Era.
Heather SmithConway, Arkansas

My dad had a stroke and went to the hospital when I was seven years old. He was still in the hospital when I turned eight. I decided to wait until my dad was out of the hospital to be baptized and confirmed. It was one of the happiest days for me.
William M., age 9, Queensland, Australia

President Brigham Young turned to Henry Grow for help in transforming his vision for the Tabernacle into reality. A convert to the Church and a native of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Brother Grow was a bridge builder with the skills necessary to take on such a task.
Plans were made, and in 1863 construction began.
Unable to acquire many common building materials, workers recycled materials and used local resources to build the Tabernacle. Lumber was harvested from local canyons, excess stone was taken from the Salt Lake Temple construction site, leftover military equipment and wooden oxen shoes were transformed into nails and washers, glue was created by boiling animal skins, and plaster was created from local limestone and enhanced with animal hair for strength.
Considering the materials available at the time, the Tabernacle truly was built with faith and ingenuity.
Four years after construction began, conference was held in the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle was officially dedicated in October 1875, after the completion of the interior.

Thirteen-year-old Wid Covey, standing before an audience, volunteered his testimony, “I’m thankful for this Moroni’s Promise program because it helps me understand the scriptures. When I sit down with my dad to read the Book of Mormon he helps me understand about it also. I’m thankful for Michelle Gardner. She calls me every week, and it helps me a lot and she encourages me.”

My father was my best friend while I was growing up. He had a great influence on my life because of the way he treated my mother. I never, ever heard him speak a cross word to her. He treated me and the rest of our family with the same kindness.
He often took me fishing. We also worked together at our family’s sawmill. After working hard all day, we sometimes went on evening picnics. Spending time working and playing together created a real family bond.

Orderville, Utah—One December evening some of the sisters of Orderville met to plan a Christmas treat for the children. The Order had no luxuries and the necessities were strictly rationed. About the only sweets the people had was molasses, so, the sisters decided to make molasses candy and cookies for the youngsters.
But on Christmas Eve, they came to “Grandmother Spencer,” wife of Howard Orson Spencer, bishop and leader in Orderville, with the news that the brother in charge of the molasses “won’t let us have any. He says our allowance for the month is already used.” Grandmother’s lips tightened. “The children are going to have something for Christmas. I’ll speak to my husband after dinner—he’ll give us permission.”
When her husband came in tired and hungry, Sister Spencer hovered over her husband and after dinner urged him to rest by the fire. As he sat looking drowsily into the flames, she said in a low voice, “You do think the children should have some candy and cookies for Christmas, don’t you Howard?” “Ummmhmmm,” was the sleepy response, and grandmother went away smiling. She reported to the ladies that everything was all right, “My husband has given us permission.” “Did he say we could have the molasses?” asked one doubting Thomas. “He didn’t say ‘No,’” replied Sister Spencer truthfully. “Now we won’t wake up the brother in charge of the molasses. We’ll just slip out and take what we need.”
The man in charge of the molasses barrel was very conscious of his responsibility. On the lid of the barrel he had placed a section of heavy logging chain and a large boulder. Only a thin wooden partition at the head of the bed separated him from the barrel outside, and he was a light sleeper. Shivering from the cold the women crunched through the snow toward the barrel. It was beginning to snow again and the night was very dark.
With infinite caution they removed the heavy chain without so much as one betraying clank. It took the combined efforts of all the women to lower the boulder noiselessly to the ground. There was a breathless pause as Sister Spencer raised the lid and dipped into the barrel with a saucepan. She emptied its contents into a bucket and dipped again, and again. “We have enough now,” whispered one of the women. “Let’s go back.” With the same caution the chain and boulder were replaced and the women filed back to the warm kitchen to make the Christmas goodies. But, there was a dismayed gasp when they looked into the pail. “Oh dear, we haven’t enough molasses. We’ll have to get some more.” “Oh no, Sister Spencer. It’s cold and dark. It’s too risky.” “Well, just the same, we must unless we want the children to be disappointed.”
There could only be one answer to such a statement and the little band of mothers went again to the molasses barrel. They returned safely and set to work. When morning came, every child in Orderville had two molasses cookies and one big slightly sticky lump of candy in his stocking. Santa Claus had not forgotten them. Grandfather insisted all his life that he could not remember ever having given the women permission to get the molasses.
Our Pioneer Heritage, 18 (1975): 160–61

I was thrilled when I passed the driving test and at long last was permitted to drive the family station wagon. My parents gave me a set of keys, which I proudly attached to my keychain, vowing to honor their trust in me. But one evening, while my parents were away, a heavy rainfall and a weak moment tested my good intentions.
My parents left my brothers and me for a few hours while they ran some errands. It started raining, and soon we saw large puddles outside of the house. We lived in an area surrounded by rich farmland, and whenever the ground was soaked by a good rain, fat earthworms (we called them night crawlers) would pop to the surface, almost like magic. When the rain cleared, we could see hundreds of plump night crawlers slithering along the slick mud around our garden and along the walkways.
My brother Bobby wasn’t old enough to drive yet, but he approached me with an idea for earning some money from the worms. He’d heard about a place across town that purchased night crawlers for fishing bait. He figured we could collect hundreds of night crawlers from the wet ground, drive to the bait store, sell them, and then be back before our parents returned. I didn’t know much about fishing or selling bait, but I knew I shouldn’t drive the car without permission. I rationalized that I knew how to drive safely and we wouldn’t be gone very long. But first, of course, we had to collect the worms.
It was still damp outside when we gathered flashlights and a few empty cans and began digging through the soft mud in search of the slithery creatures. The plan didn’t quite hold the attraction for me that it did for my brother, but I got past my squeamishness and grabbed my share of squirmy night crawlers. We spent some time picking worms from the mud and then realized that we needed to hurry across town to the bait shop. I didn’t know where it was, but my brother assured me he knew how to get there.
I followed his directions, and soon we found ourselves driving through dark and unfamiliar streets. We were miles from our home and safety. My brother was determined to sell the worms, but all I wanted was to get back home as fast as possible. Just as I was ready to turn the car around, we saw a dimly lit shed ahead of us, with people standing in line holding jars and buckets. I reluctantly agreed to stop at the shed just long enough to sell the night crawlers. However, the line moved very slowly, and more time passed before my brother finally made it to the counter where they weighed the worms and paid us for them. We knew we had been gone far longer than we planned.
When we pulled into the driveway, our parents were already home. My heart sank; I knew I would be in a lot of trouble for taking the car without permission. My stomach was tight as I remembered the numerous opportunities I’d had that evening to make better choices. We held our heads low as we entered by the back door, hoping to avoid attention. No such luck. But we were unprepared for the reaction.
Our parents sat at the kitchen table, their faces stricken with fear and grief. Tears poured down our mother’s face; our father’s eyes were red, and he was clearly distraught. Rather than greeting us with anger, they both cried out in relief that we were alive and safe. Then they asked where we had been.
I felt very foolish and childish as I offered my stammering answer: “Um … we were out selling night crawlers.” Their grief and emotion cut me to the soul. I would never knowingly or intentionally have caused my parents such hurt, but I knew I had done exactly that. I was acutely aware that I had not lived up to the trust and responsibility they’d placed in me, nor had I lived up to my own goals.
The lessons I learned that night were far reaching. I had given my parents my word, and I didn’t keep it. When we make a covenant with Heavenly Father, we have a responsibility to keep it. Just as my parents were thankful to see us come home, Heavenly Father welcomes us with love when we return to Him.
Eventually the trip my brother and I made to the bait store became part of our family folklore. For years it served as a gentle reminder that we always need to be on the right path. Otherwise, one of our parents was sure to ask, “Were you out selling night crawlers?”

I am 14 years old, and I was born deaf. I have a very difficult time understanding speakers at sacrament meeting and teachers in Sunday School and at activity night. I attended a special seminary for the deaf, but it was not enough, so I started to read the New Era, and I enjoy it! Now I want to look back in the old magazines that my parents have saved, to read them all over again. The Mormonisms are my favorite, and I like the other departments and articles too. I am looking forward to seeing the next issue of the New Era. Thanks for saving my life from being handicapped!
Coleen Marie JohansonSalt Lake City, Utah