Gospel Story Finder

One day I was playing with the sons of my boss. They were nine and seven years old. They said, “You know that our father is the branch president in our Church.” They explained what a branch president is and, without thinking, I said, “Your father will not go to heaven.” I realized I had made a big mistake, and I thought desperately about what I could say to them to make them forget my comment. At the end of the day, when they saw their father, they ran to him and repeated what I had said. I thought I would lose my job.
My boss had earlier shown me a jacket from when he had been in the military that showed he had killed. That’s why I had said what I did. In a very calm way, he asked me why I said that. I said, “Boss, remember, you told me that you killed in the war. In the Bible it says, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”
He asked me which church I attended. I told him that I used to attend the Catholic Church but hadn’t gone for seven years. He shared experiences in the Old Testament about wars and hostilities, and then he gave me a copy of the Book of Mormon. I was so excited that I didn’t lose my job.

Few are aware of the pure Christian service being administered at refugee camps in Thailand and in the Philippines by our missionary sisters. Basically, these sisters are restricted to teaching the English language and Western culture, but there is a deeper teaching that takes place through their pure love and sweet attitude toward these displaced people.
The story is told of a young camp refugee from Cambodia who was relocated in California. He found his way into one of our Church meetinghouses because the name of the Church on the sign out front corresponded with the one he used to look at each day on the name tag of the wonderful missionary sister who taught him at the camp. People don’t soon forget acts of simple kindness. Pure love can transcend all differences.

Recently, I witnessed a three-generation family participate in baptisms together for their ancestors. Even the grandmother participated—though she had some trepidation about going under the water herself. As she emerged from the water and hugged her husband, she had tears of joy. The grandfather and father then baptized each other and many of the grandchildren. What greater joy could a family experience together? Each temple has a family priority time to allow you as a family to schedule time in the baptistry.

I have related before my experience with a friend who took me to his ranch. He unlocked the door of a large new automobile, slid behind the wheel, and said proudly, “How do you like my new car?” We rode in luxurious comfort into the rural areas to a beautiful new landscaped home, and he said with no little pride, “This is my home.”

He drove to a grassy hill. The sun was setting behind the distant hills. He surveyed his vast domain. Pointing to the north, he asked, “Do you see that clump of trees over there?” I could plainly discern them in the fading day.

He pointed to the east. “Do you see the lake shimmering in the sunset?” It too was visible.

“Now, the bluff that’s on the south.” We turned about to scan the distance. He identified barns, silos, the ranch house to the west. With a wide sweeping gesture, he boasted, “From the clump of trees, to the lake, to the bluff, and to the ranch buildings and all between—all this is mine. And the dark specks in the meadow—those cattle also are mine.”

And then I asked from whom he obtained it. The chain of ownership of his property went back to land given by governments. His attorney had assured him he had an unencumbered title.

“From whom did the government get it?” I asked. “What was paid for it?” There came into my mind the declaration of the Psalmist, boldly restated by Paul: “The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof” (1 Cor. 10:26).

And then I asked, “Did ownership come from God, Creator of the earth and the owner thereof? Did he get paid? Was it sold or leased or given to you? If a gift, from whom? If a sale, with what exchange or currency? If a lease, do you make proper accounting?”

And then I asked, “What was the price? With what treasures did you buy this farm?”

“Money!”

Where did you get the money?”

“From my toil, my sweat, my labor, and my strength.”

And then I asked, “Where did you get your strength to toil, your power to labor, your glands to sweat?”

He spoke of food.

“Where did the food originate?”

“From sun and atmosphere and soil and water.”

“And who brought those elements here?”

I quoted the Psalmist:

“Thou, O God, didst send a plentiful rain, whereby thou didst confirm thine inheritance, when it was weary” (Ps. 68:9).

“If the land is not yours, then what accounting do you make to your landlord for his bounties? The scripture says: ‘Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s’ (see Matt. 22:21). What percentage of your increase do you pay Caesar? And what percent to God?

“Do you believe the Bible? Do you accept the command of the Lord through the prophet Malachi? Do you believe Moses’ words to Pharaoh that the earth is the Lord’s?” (Ex. 9:29).

I said again: “I seem to find no place in holy writ where God has said, ‘I give you ownership of this land unconditionally.’

“I cannot find such scripture, but I do find this from Psalms:

‘Those that wait upon the Lord, … shall inherit the earth’ (Ps. 37:9).

“And I remember that our Creator covenanted in the council in heaven with us all: ‘[And] we will go down, for there is space there, and we will take of these materials, and we will make an earth whereon these may dwell’ (Abr. 3:24).

“It seems more like a lease on which a rental is exacted than like a simple ownership.

“This does not seem to convey the earth but only the use and contents which are given to men on condition that they live all of the commandments of God.”

But my friend continued to mumble, “Mine—mine,” as if to convince himself against the surer knowledge that he was at best a recreant renter.

That was long years ago. I later saw him lying in his death among luxurious furnishings in a palatial home. His had been a vast estate. And I closed his eyes. I spoke at his funeral, and I followed the cortege from the good piece of earth he had claimed to his grave, a tiny, oblong area the length of a tall man, the width of a heavy one.

Later I saw that same estate, yellow in grain, green in lucerne, white in cotton, seemingly unmindful of him who had claimed it.

The youth from the Victoria Ward in Hong Kong and from the English-speaking branch in Taiwan combined in making a trip to the Taiwan Temple to do baptisms for the dead.
The group started their excursion with a trip to the peaks of Alishan, part of the central mountain range in Taiwan. The location is popular because of the spectacular sunrises. At 4:00 A.M. when the wake-up call came, the sleepy youth hiked to the highest part of the summit. They were issued cardboard sunglasses with darkened lenses to protect their eyes while they were watching the sunrise. They were not disappointed. The neighboring mountains rose out of the mist, and the sun burst above the final jagged peak. It seemed to set a theme for the trip: “The day dawn is breaking, the world is awaking,/ The clouds of night’s darkness are fleeing away” (Hymns, 1985, no. 52).
Arriving at the temple and performing baptisms was the highlight of the excursion. Garrett Povar of Hong Kong said, “I had a very special feeling in the temple—a feeling of calm and reverence.”
Jennifer Rasmussen said that doing baptisms in the Taiwan Temple added to her testimony. “Being in the temple is a testimony to me that Heavenly Father’s work is going on in different parts of the world. I can see that the worth of a soul is great in the sight of the Lord. I know this because the Church is concerned with the salvation of all.”
The youth had a four-day retreat from the world and from their daily routines. They had fun together, laughed together, and served together.

In the 1970s, the Bricknells had saved enough money to take their family to the temple to be sealed. But when Church leaders asked for donations from South African members to help fund the building of the Sao Paulo temple, the family sacrificed their travel savings.
“We contributed all we had saved for that family trip,” said Jennifer Bricknell. “And within a year, we had the money to take all five of our children to the Salt Lake Temple.”

In my early childhood I lost both my parents. Aunt Gu Ma, a spinster sister of my father, kept my brother and me together. She brought us up in a little farming village where she grew vegetables for a living. Every morning she would carry the produce to the market in two big baskets, one on each end of a long pole resting on her shoulders. She then would bring home rice and meat purchased with the proceeds of her vegetable sales.
I can remember cooking rice in a huge wok on top of a reed-burning stove. I was then six years old. The wok was so big that my brother and I had to lift it together, each standing on a stool while grasping a handle on opposite sides. Our occasional dinner special was either half-cooked or burnt rice, or both.
Aunt Gu Ma was a wonderful person. Although she had no formal education, she had a noble philosophy of life. She instilled in us correct principles, stern self-reliance, and the value of hard work. We are forever grateful for her love and sacrifice in our behalf.

Andy straightened his neckerchief and grabbed his Webelos manual.
“Hurry, Andy! You’re going to be late,” his mother called from downstairs. He rushed down and out the front door.
“Bye, Mom!” he yelled as he hopped on his bike. In his last ward, his mom had driven him to the church every week for Scouts. It seemed so cool that now he could ride his bike just around the block to Sister Snow’s house for den meeting.
Sister Snow’s son, B.J., answered the door. Andy liked B.J., but B.J. always seemed to be looking over Andy’s shoulder, like he was hoping someone else would show up. B.J. led Andy to the family room where David, Tanner, Bryce, and Jemison were busy painting a poster. David looked up and smiled when Andy said hi.
All during the meeting Andy tried to be friendly to everyone, but especially to B.J. He wanted to have some friends in his new ward before school started. It would be easier to go to a new school if he already had friends.
When den meeting was over, Sister Snow said that the boys could stay and play together a little longer if they wanted to.
“Great!” B.J. said. “Let’s play a video game. You have to see this new one I got.”
Andy looked to see what game B.J. was putting on. With a sinking feeling, he realized it was not one his parents would let him play.
“What’s wrong?” David asked. All the boys turned to look at Andy.
“I was just wondering what other games you have,” Andy said to B.J.
“Why? Don’t you like this one?”
“It’s just—it’s just that …” Andy stammered, trying to make his voice work. “It’s just that my parents won’t let me play that game.”
B.J. laughed. “Oh. Well, that’s OK. We won’t tell them.”
Andy felt the other boys watching him. He said in a small voice, “I think maybe I’ll go home.”
Nobody said anything for a second. Then David said, “Hey, guys, let’s pick another game.”
“You could always stay and just watch, you know,” B.J. said.
Watching wasn’t the same as playing, was it? But, no, that didn’t feel right to Andy either. He felt all tight inside and wanted to cry. “No, I think I’d better not.”
“Better not what?” Sister Snow asked as she passed through the room. “What’s wrong, Andy?”
“Andy thinks his parents won’t let him play this game,” B.J. said.
“Wow, Andy. That’s really responsible of you to obey your parents even when they aren’t around.” Sister Snow smiled. Then she left. Andy had hoped she would make B.J. change the game. Now what would he do?
Finally B.J. said, “All right. Let’s just pick another one.” He put in a different game. Even though Andy was allowed to play it, he still felt lonely.
When he got home, Andy ran straight to his room. A few minutes later his father knocked on the door. “Andy? Can I come in?”
Andy rolled over and looked at the wall. “I guess,” he answered softly.
Andy’s dad came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sister Snow called,” he said. “She told me you followed our family rules and didn’t play the game the other boys chose.”
Andy shrugged. Then he looked up into his father’s face. He was smiling. “Andy, I am so proud of you.”
Hearing the love in his father’s voice made tears come into Andy’s eyes. “I thought about calling you or Mom. I thought maybe if I asked on the phone, you might let me play it.”
“So why didn’t you call us?”
“Because I knew what you would say. Then the other boys said I should just play it, because you would never know.”
“But you didn’t do that,” Dad said.
“No, but I almost did. The game looked really cool, and I felt like a baby not playing it. I can’t wait until I’m a teenager and can play those games.”
“Wait a minute,” Dad said. “Are you sure you’ll be playing them when you are a teenager?”
“But the rating was—”
“I know. But some things are still not good for us even when we are older. Your mother and I are both old enough to see any kind of movie, but we don’t because the Holy Ghost has told us that some movies aren’t good for us. We have rules for you now, but as you get older you’ll have to make rules for yourself—rules that will help you keep the Holy Ghost with you.”
“But it’s so hard to be left out,” Andy said.
“Let me tell you something that has helped me,” Dad said. “I have a best friend who helps me choose the right: Mom. We can always do good things together. Do you have any friends who might feel the same as you about video games?”
Andy thought about that. “Well, I think David might have been glad when they switched to another game.”
“It sounds like David is the kind of boy you might want to spend some more time with.”
“Yeah, maybe so. Dad, can I invite David over tomorrow?”
“OK,” Dad said. “I love you, buddy.” Dad rubbed Andy’s hair and left the room.
Andy sat on his bed for a few more minutes and thought about David. It would be nice to have a friend who didn’t want Andy to do what felt wrong.
Andy looked at the bare walls around his room and the moving boxes on the floor. He would call David right now. David was probably the right person to help Andy hang his posters up tomorrow.

Several years ago, I was in a sacrament meeting where a new member shared what led to his conversion. One day, he was working in his garden when two young missionaries walked up the path towards him. One of the missionaries then asked him this question: “How would you feel if you knew that there was a living prophet and twelve Apostles on the earth today?” The man had never considered such a thing, and although not religious, he immediately wanted to know more. The missionaries taught him the gospel and he gained a personal testimony. All because he learned that once again we have living prophets and apostles walking the earth.

I also learned on my mission, during the hot summer of 1981, the importance of charity. Jesus Christ taught: “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:34–35).
The area I served in that summer included a part of the city that had many apartment buildings with security guards. It was very difficult to get permission from the guards to tract in those buildings. We often tried but usually failed.
One afternoon both my companion and I felt we should go to that part of the city. During the bus trip there, we saw an older woman pushing a wooden cart. She seemed heavy laden, so we determined to get off the bus to help her. But the driver refused to stop since the road was so steep. When the bus did stop, my companion and I immediately ran back to the hillside. Her load was very heavy; it took us 15 minutes to get it to the top.
Some of the security guards saw what we were doing. That day when we walked into their buildings, they simply let us pass. That afternoon we had much success—we found three new investigators, one of whom was later baptized.

“Well, my dear daughter, it all depends on where you want to go!” the father answered as he gently led her by the arm over to mother’s nearby quilting project. “Let’s take a little tuft of this cotton upstairs to your room and put it on the turntable of your record player.” He molded the cotton with his fingers into a small ball as they entered her room and walked over to the record player. Then he placed the ball on the very edge of the turntable and said, “Now turn it on.
She did so, and after three or four revolutions the little cotton ball went flying out into the room.
“Turn the record player off,” the father directed, “and put the cotton at the center of the disc. Now turn it on again.”
She did as she was told, and round and round the turntable went. But this time the tuft of cotton did not move.
“That is what I mean by centrifugal and centripetal forces,” the father continued. “One force causes an object to flee from the center, and the other directs an object toward the center.”

Illustration by Greg Newbold
I’d never met Irv and Carmen Walker before, and I was nervous about being their new home teacher. But I liked them the instant I met them. Carmen, who was almost blind, had a straightforward and humorous personality that made me feel completely at ease. I was amazed at the things she could do despite her loss of sight. She attended a pottery class and sculpted beautiful bowls and figurines, was part of a women’s social organization, and volunteered on a service committee for the blind. Carmen also took care of her husband, Irv.
Irv had experienced numerous strokes and suffered from decreased brain function. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was slow and quiet. He was always smiling though. He loved to pull little pranks—especially on his wife—and he enjoyed making others laugh.
Irv and Carmen hadn’t been to church in over 20 years, and because of their physical limitations they had no way of getting there on their own.
As my companion and I began to meet with Carmen and Irv, two things became apparent. First, they’d forgotten most of the Church’s teachings. Second, they were fantastic people who loved helping others. As we continued to home teach them and discuss the gospel together, we eventually invited them back to church. They accepted, and we began to pick them up on Sunday mornings. They both befriended many ward members and were a great blessing to the ward.
Not long after they started to come to church again, Irv experienced a major illness and was hospitalized. He passed away shortly after. I’ll always be grateful that he was reminded of Heavenly Father’s love and teachings before he died.
After Irv’s death, Carmen remained a great friend and continued to amaze me with her talents. Over the years many ornaments on my family Christmas tree were crafted by her skilled hands. Eventually, however, her eyesight worsened to the point that she was completely blind and experiencing pain and discomfort. Carmen eventually moved away to be closer to her eye specialist and her children.
I’m grateful for home teaching because it has allowed me to meet wonderful people like Carmen and Irv. Home teaching has taught me that some of the most amazing people may be less active and living within my own ward boundaries. The key is to befriend them and remind them that they haven’t been forgotten and that they can receive great joy and blessings in the Church. Even though home teaching assignments may change and people may move away, I’ll always remember the friendships I’ve formed through home teaching.

As a boy of fifteen I was called to preside over a quorum of teachers. Our adviser was interested in us, and we knew it. One day he said to me, “Tom, you enjoy raising pigeons, don’t you?”

I responded with a warm “Yes.”

Then he proffered, “How would you like me to give you a pair of purebred Birmingham Roller pigeons?”

This time I answered, “Yes, sir!” You see, the pigeons I had were just the common variety trapped on the roof of the Grant Elementary School.

He invited me to come to his home the next evening. The next day was one of the longest in my young life. I was awaiting my adviser’s return from work an hour before he arrived. He took me to his loft, which was in a small barn at the rear of his yard. As I looked at the most beautiful pigeons I had yet seen, he said, “Select any male, and I will give you a female which is different from any other pigeon in the world.” I made my selection. He then placed in my hand a tiny hen. I asked what made her so different. He responded, “Look carefully, and you’ll notice that she has but one eye.” Sure enough, one eye was missing, a cat having done the damage. “Take them home to your loft,” he counseled. “Keep them in for about ten days and then turn them out to see if they will remain at your place.”

I followed his instructions. Upon releasing them, the male pigeon strutted about the roof of the loft, then returned inside to eat. But the one-eyed female was gone in an instant. I called Harold, my adviser, and asked: “Did that one-eyed pigeon return to your loft?”

“Come on over,” said he, “and we’ll have a look.”

As we walked from his kitchen door to the loft, my adviser commented, “Tom, you are the president of the teachers quorum.” This I already knew. Then he added, “What are you going to do to activate Bob?”

I answered, “I’ll have him at quorum meeting this week.”

Then he reached up to a special nest and handed to me the one-eyed pigeon. “Keep her in a few days and try again.” This I did, and once more she disappeared. Again the experience, “Come on over and we’ll see if she returned here.” Came the comment as we walked to the loft, “Congratulations on getting Bob to priesthood meeting. Now what are you and Bob going to do to activate Bill?”

“We’ll have him there this week,” I volunteered.

This experience was repeated over and over again. I was a grown man before I fully realized that, indeed, Harold, my adviser, had given me a special pigeon; the only bird in his loft he knew would return every time she was released. It was his inspired way of having an ideal personal priesthood interview with the teachers quorum president every two weeks. I owe a lot to that one-eyed pigeon. I owe more to that quorum adviser. He had the patience to help me prepare for opportunities which lay ahead.

I have witnessed this happiness in the lives of many members of the Church. Several weeks ago I had the assignment to preside over a stake conference in Cali, Colombia. I met a very special young man there who is a member of the Church and can well illustrate the meaning of true happiness.
His name is Fabián. His family belongs to the Church, and he learned of the plan of happiness when he was just a little boy. In 1984, when he was three years old, Fabián and his family lived in a house close to a large and busy avenue. That avenue was a route for many city bus lines.
One day, seeing the gate open, little Fabián tried to cross the avenue and got hit by a bus. Thanks to Heavenly Father’s goodness, Fabián survived the accident. His parents took him to three different hospitals that indicated they could not treat him. They continued looking for help, and upon finding the proper medical assistance, they learned the prognosis was not very good. After undergoing multiple surgeries, the doctors informed the family that the damage to his feet and legs was so extensive that to save him, they had to amputate his right leg.
Little Fabián started a different life then, without one of his legs. He slowly learned to control his body balance and to walk with the help of crutches. He went to school and had the support of his teachers and friends. Some people used to mock him, but he soon learned not to care about the jokes they played on him.
He wanted to participate in all physical activities, and did so frequently. Even though winning was very hard to come by, he was always brave and ready to participate.
Fabián currently serves as a counselor in the Young Men organization of his stake. He attends institute of religion classes and is active in the student body organization. He plays basketball and soccer. He also plays Ping-Pong with his friends from the institute. He rides a bike and does everything a young man can do. He works as a volunteer teaching English at a foundation that cares for poor children.
Fabián wants to serve his fellowmen and God with all his strength. He has a smiling face and is always there to help someone in need. Fabián is truly a happy young man. With an overwhelming strength which comes from his faith and trust in God, Fabián is a great example to the citizens of his hometown.
His happiness comes from striving to live worthily every day and to obey God’s commandments.

My young friend whom I’ll call Lindsey needed hope. She lived in a home which was devoid of the Spirit and of love. Her friends were wild, and even most of her Young Women leaders looked on her only as a “project.” But deep inside she felt that the Lord loved her, despite her deplorable situation. She focused on always remembering Him. She chose not to participate with her friends when they did bad things. She tried to worship Heavenly Father in the privacy of her own bedroom because she wanted to feel His Spirit in her life. Something in her wanted to be good, to keep His commandments. Even with her limited knowledge and lack of outside help, she was trying to keep her baptismal covenants. She felt hope to carry on, and she felt love from Heavenly Father.

Like the Saints in Missouri, Lindsey knew that in spite of her deplorable conditions, Heavenly Father hadn’t given up on her. His love was firm. She took comfort in the “immutable covenant” of His love—that “all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good” (D&C 98:3). As with Abraham, hers was not an easy path to walk, yet she pressed forward. As she did so, she found help. One special Church leader loved and guided her. She grew closer to Heavenly Father and eventually found a young man who loved her, taught her much about the gospel, and married her.

At last many of the blessings she had longed for earlier in life were poured out upon her. She found she could have the Spirit in her own family and raise righteous children. Where once she was isolated and neglected, she now feels enveloped by love. This has come from pressing forward while waiting patiently on the Lord. Being steadfast in Christ brought hope to Lindsey as it will to each of us as we struggle with life’s challenges. The words the choir sings tonight will encourage us to come unto Him:

During humankind’s early push into space, the unmanned rockets had no windows. But by the Apollo 8 mission to the moon, the astronauts had one. While floating in space, they were struck by the power of seeing our earth and took this spectacular image, capturing the whole world’s attention! Those astronauts experienced a sensation so powerful it has been given its own name: the overview effect.
NASA
Viewing from a new vantage point changes everything. One space traveler said it “reduces things to a size that you think everything is manageable. … We can do this. Peace on earth—no problem. It gives people that type of energy … that type of power.”

That feeling has brought back to my memory the first day I walked into the Salt Lake Temple. I was a young man. My parents were my only companions that day. Inside, they paused for a moment to be greeted by a temple worker. I walked on ahead of them, alone for a moment.
I was greeted by a little white-haired lady in a beautiful white temple dress. She looked up at me and smiled and then said very softly, “Welcome to the temple, Brother Eyring.” I thought for a moment she was an angel because she knew my name. I had not realized that a small card with my name on it had been placed on the lapel of my suit coat.
I stepped past her and stopped. I looked up at a high white ceiling that made the room so light it seemed almost as if it were open to the sky. And in that moment, the thought came into my mind in these clear words: “I have been in this lighted place before.” But then immediately there came into my mind, not in my own voice, these words: “No, you have never been here before. You are remembering a moment before you were born. You were in a sacred place like this.”

When I was 17, I’d taken out a small insurance policy that I thought would be useful, when it matured, to go towards a deposit for a house. I cashed it in early. (I lost nothing; every penny I had paid was returned to me; there was no financial penalty for early exit.) I was sent a cheque that paid for my whole mission. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Another small unplanned blessing. I then posted my papers.

Toward the end of the first semester after his mission, a pretty young woman he saw on campus caught his attention. Although he didn’t meet her then, he did remember her face and looked her up when the campus yearbook was published a few months later.
The student was Kathy Jacob, an attractive, gregarious young woman who had lived in both California and Utah. The following fall, when he was back in school, Todd arranged through a mutual friend to take Kathy on a date.
Over the next several months, they found they were compatible. Their love grew and matured, and the following spring, on May 28, 1968, they were married in the Salt Lake Temple.

I know of one family who took their children to a welfare farm in the Salt Lake valley. The three-, ten-, and eleven-year-old children were given the opportunity of pulling weeds in a sugar beet field with their father. As the work became harder, the ten-year-old girl suddenly stopped, turned to her father, and asked, “Why are we doing this, Dad?”
He explained that all the work they were doing was helping the sugar beets grow. After the beets were grown, harvested, and processed, the sugar would be taken to the Bishops Central Storehouse. The processed sugar, along with all the other different kinds of food from welfare farms throughout the Church, would be put into bishops storehouses for those members of the Church who don’t have enough money to buy the food they need.
The Welfare Services program, however, involves more than this. It means learning and planning how to help ourselves and our families in many areas.