Gospel Story Finder

Six months later, however, I began experiencing the same health problems over again. I remember lying in a hospital bed, delirious from hours of tests and injections. I couldn’t believe this was happening. This time I knew my mission was over. With tears of disappointment and regret streaming down my face, I listened to my wise mission president say: “Sister Romanello, you loved the Lord two times as much, because you came back.” I felt so much comfort from his words. This time as I boarded the plane home, I promised my Heavenly Father I would remain faithful even if I didn’t receive answers.

The bright coloring of the surrounding mountains was inspiring. The yellow, brown, and gray of the stone in the nearby hills and the blue of the distant mountains was a scene that only nature could paint. An artist who tried would be accused of exaggeration.
I stood on the edge of a great precipice. The ground beneath my feet was white sandstone. It was strange how drab the ground at my feet appeared but how beautiful that same stone was when viewed from a distance. “Isn’t that the way life is?” I thought to myself.
I looked down. Far below, the Colorado River, like a puny gray ribbon, wound itself through the deep canyon gorge. It made me dizzy, and I backed off for fear of losing my balance. I looked up and saw the other side of the canyon 183 meters beyond. As I contemplated how remote we were from civilization, fear came into my heart. “What have we promised to do?” I asked myself.
We had signed a contract to fabricate and erect the steel for a bridge to span the Colorado River gorge. We were relying upon our engineer’s computations and designs to do something we had never done before. The last thing I would ever do under these circumstances would be to express aloud any doubt. I had to be positive. If the leader of the organization lacks courage or judgment when exploring new horizons, the operation will crumble. It was a critical point, a precipice for those of us who had worked so long and hard to build a professional reputation. We could not turn back now. I displaced my fears by thinking, “If men never ventured beyond their experience, the world would make no progress.”
How do you go about bridging such a chasm? First, we spanned the river with a cord. The cord was used to pull a light rope across, then a heavier rope, a light cable, and a heavier cable, until we had a 76 millimeter steel cable spanning the gorge supported by high towers on each side. Together with other essential parts we had a high line system that would carry fabricated steel segments into their respective positions; some pieces weighed as much as 30 tons.
The segments of the arch were supported by towers and held 600 tons of steel high above the river until the arch could be closed. After the arch was closed, its weight was transferred down to the huge concrete foundations supported by the bedrock of the canyon walls, enabling the towers to be relieved and dismantled.
Every step taken had to be right. Every piece of steel had to fit with exactness. Every move was carefully planned. A complicated scheduling process was used to coordinate engineering, purchasing, steel preparation, steel fabrication, storing, transporting, unloading, and erecting so that the right piece of steel arrived at the site at the exact time it was needed. It’s that way in life, isn’t it? We must plan things to a standard of excellence if we want to succeed. The greater the challenge, the higher the standard must be, whether we are building bridges or building lives.
Today, people never notice the precipice on which I stood on that particular day. As the motorist travels over what before was an impassable route, he now crosses from one side of the canyon to the other in approximately eight seconds, I seldom look back upon that precipice in my business life without realizing that man, with the help of the Lord, can pretty well do whatever he determines to do. What is a challenge for one might be quite commonplace for another, but what is now commonplace was once a great challenge.

You can’t help but like Andrea* when you meet her. She’s warm and friendly and fun, and she knows how to make you feel good about yourself.

But she wasn’t always like that.

For a long time, she carried around a dark and tragic secret that she could confess to no one. She cried a lot. She was usually depressed. She withdrew from people—wasn’t close to anyone, and didn’t have the self-confidence to excel in school or anything else. Andrea had been sexually abused when she was younger.

“I thought I had committed a terrible sin,” she said. “I thought it was too gross to tell anyone. I felt disgusting and totally worthless, until a very understanding bishop explained to me that it wasn’t my fault, that the Lord still loved me, and that I could get help.”

The help Andrea got, which included professional and spiritual counseling, is enabling her to put those traumatic experiences in the past and become emotionally and spiritually healthy again.

Going through these stages has helped Andrea begin to lead a happier, more fulfilling life. Others like her who have experienced sexual abuse can also begin to recover. It is important for them to realize that they have a right not to be abused, and that they need to get help if it happens. They need to know that they are not at fault, that they are not impure, nor are they any less chaste. And most of all, they need to know that Heavenly Father still loves them, has great hope for them, and has provided ways for them to recover.

Some 50 years ago I received an invitation to meet with President J. Reuben Clark Jr. (1871–1961), a counselor in the First Presidency of the Church, a statesman of towering stature, and a scholar of international renown. My profession then was in the field of printing and publishing. President Clark made me welcome in his office and then produced from his old rolltop desk a large sheaf of handwritten notes, many of them made when he was a law student long years before. He proceeded to outline for me his goal of producing a harmony of the Gospels. This goal was achieved with his monumental work Our Lord of the Gospels.
In my library is a personally inscribed, leather-bound copy of this classic treatment of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. As I have perused its pages, I have paused at the section entitled “The Miracles of Jesus.” I remember as though it were yesterday President Clark asking me to read to him several of these accounts while he sat back in his large leather chair and listened. That was a day in my life never to be forgotten.
President Clark asked me to read aloud the account found in Luke concerning the man filled with leprosy. I proceeded to read:
“And it came to pass, when he was in a certain city, behold a man full of leprosy: who seeing Jesus fell on his face, and besought him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean.
“And he put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will: be thou clean. And immediately the leprosy departed from him” (Luke 5:12–13).
He asked that I continue reading from Luke concerning the man afflicted with palsy and the enterprising manner in which he was presented for the attention of the Lord:
“And, behold, men brought in a bed a man which was taken with a palsy: and they sought means to bring him in, and to lay him before him.
“And when they could not find by what way they might bring him in because of the multitude, they went upon the housetop, and let him down through the tiling with his couch into the midst before Jesus.
“And when he saw their faith, he said unto him, Man, thy sins are forgiven thee” (Luke 5:18–20).
There followed in the scriptural account snide comments from the Pharisees concerning who had the right to forgive sins. Jesus silenced their bickering by saying:
“What reason ye in your hearts?
“Whether [it] is easier, to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Rise up and walk?
“But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power upon earth to forgive sins, (he said unto the sick of the palsy,) I say unto thee, Arise, and take up thy couch, and go into thine house.
“And immediately he rose up before them, and took up that whereon he lay, and departed to his own house, glorifying God” (Luke 5:22–25).
When I had read these scriptural stories aloud, President Clark removed from his pocket a handkerchief and wiped the tears from his eyes. He commented, “As we grow older, tears come more frequently.” After a few words of good-bye, I departed from his office, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his tears.

I live in a country where everything at the moment is very uncertain. I am the only Latter-day Saint in my family, and it is a true blessing to receive the New Era.
I lost my father in a glider accident and I felt awful for many months afterward. The articles “Soaring” and “After Dad Died” (April 1991) helped me very much. Thank you for bringing such a good magazine to the youth of South Africa. Your work does not go unnoticed.
Melissa Anna MessmerKrugersdorp, South Africa

It’s awful to be the first one to know good news and not be able to tell it.
When I heard Papa telling Mama that we were going to move to New Mexico, I was so excited I wanted to talk to Caroline and Ed and everyone else about it. But talking was something I couldn’t do. No matter how hard I tried to make the words come out, my tongue did not work right and the sounds were garbled and mushy, not sharp and clear the way I was thinking them. Only my brother Ed could tell what I meant most of the time.
Because I couldn’t talk, I wasn’t allowed to go to school. Caroline was in the third grade already and Ed in first. I had a hard time filling in the long hours until they came home. One day when I was playing behind the sofa, dressing and undressing my doll, I overheard Papa and Mama talking. I really paid close attention when I heard Papa tell Mama that their prayers to have a place of their own had finally been answered. “Just think, hon,” Papa was saying, “160 acres of our own to raise anything we want. We’ll grow corn, cantaloupe, potatoes, beans, tomatoes, and even some watermelons for dear Dora. She loves them so. We’ll have cows for milk and pigs for pork, chickens—”
“Is there a school?” Mama asked anxiously. “I want the children to go to school.”
“Just down the road a ways—close enough to walk to, I’m sure.”
“What about church?”
“Don’t worry about church,” Papa laughed. “It was some LDS folk down there that wrote to President Smith and told him about the available land. There’s already a meetinghouse in Harmony, and even if there wasn’t, there’s enough people going from here to start a ward—over eighty.”
“That many?”
“Figure it out. Twelve families, each with at least five children. That’s the requirement. I guess they figure anyone with that many children won’t pick up and leave.”
“Is anyone we know going?”
“The Coldwells and the Lenstroms.”
“No better folks than that anywhere. It sure would be nice to have room for the little ones to run. Is there a house?”
“Has to be. Someone has been living there. I imagine it will need some fixing up if they lost it by default.”
“Could that happen to us?”
“Of course not. That only happens if you’re shiftless and lazy. All we have to do is make the land productive and live there. After seven years it’s ours, free and clear. Oh, it’ll take lots of work, but we’re young and strong. We’ve got the boys to help me, and you and the girls can have a garden and bottle food for the winter. I tell you, hon, it’s the chance of a lifetime.”
“It’ll be nearly a year before we can bring in a crop,” Mama reminded him. “How can we manage until then?”
“We’ll have some money from selling our things, and I can get some bricklaying jobs. Even homesteaders need chimneys and fireplaces.”
“The winter’s ahead and we can’t take much with us,” Mama warned.
“Yes, but that far south is bound to be warm even in the winter. It’ll be good not to be shoveling snow.”
No snow! I thought. I’ll miss lying down in it and leaving a snow angel shape by brushing my arms and legs up and down to make the wings. And I’ll miss the noisy chase of fox and geese games and the sleigh rides with bells jangling on the horses’ harnesses.
Still and all, to take the whole family and move to a different state where there would be room to grow watermelons seemed like such an exciting thing to do that I almost couldn’t breathe thinking about it. I couldn’t wait till Ed came home. What I couldn’t get him to understand, he’d find out from Mama and Papa, and I knew he’d take me with him to tell all our friends.
At church on Sunday everyone was talking about the call to go to New Mexico. Brother Golden took me on his lap as usual, and while I brushed and braided his long red beard, he talked to Mama and Papa about the best place to buy a good cover for the wagon. I remembered the first time that he’d picked me up several years before, and I’d reached up to feel his stiff, prickly beard.

When my teenage daughter ran away from home, we were unable to persuade her to return, but we asked her to at least attend her meetings. She didn’t. The New Era was the only contact she had with the Church for over four years because of her hostility toward all Church members. But the New Era came to her every month, she read it regularly, and recently she came home, graduated from high school, and is now preparing to go to college on a national scholarship. She isn’t active in the Church yet, but she is home and safe and still reading your magazine.
Name Withheld

The word of God is powerful, too, in helping us find hope in coping with our daily trials. Sister Patricia Holland, wife of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve, experienced the pressures many women feel during the early years of her marriage as she supported her husband in school, moved many times, and cared for their very young children. At one point when her husband, a graduate student, was called to serve in a stake presidency and Sister Holland was called as ward Relief Society president, she admitted, “I really wanted to give up. … It wasn’t easy.”
Her husband’s gentle counsel was, “Read your scriptures more meaningfully. … The only way we will survive [feeling considerable pressure himself] is through spirituality. We will survive through the strength of the Spirit.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Sister Holland thought. On a day of fasting and prayer, “his words kept coming to my mind. … I remember walking over to my scriptures with the attitude, okay, we’ll just see if there’s something to this. And of course there was. The answers were there” (New Era, April 1981, pages 42–43).

One day I ate too much dinner and I got a stomachache. I decided to lie in bed because it hurt so much. While I was in bed, I thought I should read some of the stories from the Friend. The Friend had tons of good stories that helped me learn some good lessons. After I finished reading, I noticed that my stomach was feeling much better. I am thankful that I always have a Friend to count on.

One evening as I drove to a friend’s birthday party, I turned down a secluded, dark two-lane road. Suddenly, I had a terrible feeling. The thought came to me that I should turn around. I rationalized that I was just being nervous.
The prompting, however, came again two more times. “Heavenly Father,” I said out loud, “there is no place to turn around. If I need to do so, please show me where.”
Immediately, I saw a driveway I had never noticed before during my many times driving this road. I quickly turned around and went home.
My friends were disappointed when I told them I wouldn’t be coming to the party. Thinking I had turned around because I didn’t want to be alone, they suggested that my husband join me on a return drive. My husband agreed. He dropped me off at the party and left for home.
Later, my husband called me. He sounded alarmed. He said that as he drove home, police officers stopped him to ask if he had seen anything suspicious. They said a truck had been forced off the road by gang members who then beat and robbed the driver. The police suspected that the gang had targeted the truck because no other cars were nearby at the time.
I was stunned! Earlier, I had been the lone vehicle on that same road. I realized that my prompting had been from the Holy Ghost and that I had been protected by the powers of heaven. As I contemplated what had happened, other incidents in my life came to my mind. I realized that what I had thought were mere coincidences were actually promptings from the Holy Ghost.

“Justin, next week is your turn to be Student of the Week!” Mrs. Mills announced. She handed him a paper explaining what he needed to do. “Can you make sure to bring your ‘About Me’ poster on Monday?”
Justin nodded and held the paper tight. Part of him felt excited. Being student of the week meant he could take Buddy, the teacher’s stuffed toy rabbit, on an adventure and bring his mom to lunch on Friday.
But part of him felt really nervous too. He did not want to stand in front of the class. Whenever Mrs. Mills called on him, he looked down at his desk while he answered so no one would pay attention to him. But next week he’d have to stand in front of the whole class and talk about himself. He’d even have to call on people and answer questions. Everyone would be looking right at him!
That weekend was full of fun. Justin took Buddy on a sleepover at his cousin’s house and drew a picture of them all together. Then he designed the “About Me” poster just right. He added a drawing of his favorite treat (brownies) and a map of places he’d visited (like California and Texas). And of course there was a picture of Justin’s family. On Sunday, Justin even set up a stuffed-animal Primary for Buddy!
But in the back of his mind, Justin kept worrying about talking to the class on Monday. What should I say? he wondered. What if I can’t talk when everyone is looking at me? What if I can’t talk loud enough?
Finally Monday morning came, and Justin said a prayer for help before heading to school with Buddy and his poster. When it was Justin’s turn to speak, his stomach was doing flips. He took a deep breath and stood up.
Please help me do this, he prayed as he walked to the front of the class. Please help me be brave.
Justin told the class all about the favorite things on his poster. When it was time to answer questions, he made sure to call on both boys and girls. Before he knew it, it was time to sit down! Justin felt great about how he’d done.
After school Mom asked Justin how it had gone.
“I was brave enough to talk a lot in class today. You know why? I prayed twice.”
On Tuesday, Justin was supposed to bring a bag with something he loved inside. He walked to the front of the class and pulled out his favorite book, about a snake who wanted to play ball with his friends. Then he flipped open the cover and cleared his throat. He read as loud as he could.

When missionaries arrived in William Jarvis’s town in Lancashire, England, some men tried to prevent the missionaries from preaching. But they continued anyway, and William and his wife, Jane, joined the Church.
William’s family left England to travel to America in 1859. After 13 weeks in a sailing vessel and after many train rides, they joined other immigrants in the George Rowley handcart company. William pulled a handcart more than 1,000 miles (1,600 km).
Jane became sick and died. The company needed desperately to find food, so William stayed behind to bury his wife. Two Swedish converts stayed to help.
As the men started out again, they saw some Indians riding toward them. William was worried. Imagine his relief when the Indians were friendly. They laughed about the carts that the men were harnessed to. The Indians then harnessed themselves to the handcarts and pulled the carts until they caught up with the company! William’s grandson later wrote, “Surely never was a small kindly deed more appreciated.” (See Jeston Jarvis, A Short Sketch of the Life of William Jarvis.)

I appreciated the conference address President Dieter F. Uchtdorf gave in 201015 about the famous marshmallow experiment conducted at Stanford University in the 1960s. You will remember that four-year-olds were given a single marshmallow. If they could wait for 15 or 20 minutes without eating it, they would receive a second marshmallow. Videos have been produced showing the contortions that many children used to avoid eating the marshmallow. Some did not succeed.16

Last year the professor who conducted the original experiment, Dr. Walter Mischel, wrote a book in which he said the study grew in part out of his concerns about self-control and his own addiction to smoking. He was particularly concerned after the U.S. Surgeon General’s report of 1964 concluded that smoking caused lung cancer.17 After years of study, one of his professional colleagues reported that “self-control is like a muscle: the more you use it, the stronger it gets. Avoiding something tempting once will help you develop the ability to resist other temptations in the future.”18

Some, because they lack faith or understanding of the eternal plan, become bitter and lose hope. One such was a 19th-century writer who achieved both success and wealth with his dazzling wit and writing style. His wife came from a religious family, and he wanted to have faith in God but wasn’t really sure God existed. Then he was hit by a series of crushing blows. In 1893 a national financial crisis left him deeply in debt. His oldest daughter died while he was on a speaking tour. His wife’s health failed, and she died in 1904. His youngest daughter died in 1909. His own health declined. His writing, which had formerly been so full of sparkle, now reflected his bitterness. He became progressively depressed, cynical, and disillusioned and remained so until his death in 1910. With all his brilliance, he lacked the inner strength to deal with adversity and simply resigned himself to his misfortunes.

A vital part of that loving is listening. I know what listening really is, because I have had the blessed experience.
I used to farm with my dad. I didn’t always enjoy it, but when lunchtime came we’d sit in the shade of the tall poplar trees, eat our lunch, and talk. My dad didn’t use this as a golden teaching moment to lay down the law and straighten out his daughter. We just talked—about anything and everything.
This was the time I could ask questions. I felt so safe I could even ask questions that might provoke him. I remember asking him, “Why did you embarrass me in front of my friends last week when I had stayed out too late and you came and got me?”
His answer leads to another aspect of love. He wasn’t being arbitrary. There were certain standards of behavior I was expected to live. He said, “Having you out late worried me. Above all, I want you safe.” I realized his love for me was stronger than his desire for sleep or the inconvenience of getting dressed and driving down the road looking for me.

As a young man, Joseph “was called up to serious reflection” on the subject of religion. Because he was born in a land of religious freedom, he could question which of all the churches was right. And because the Bible had been translated into English, he could seek an answer from the word of God. He read in the book of James, “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,” and he did as directed. In answer to Joseph’s prayer, God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to him. This humble farm boy was the prophet chosen by God to restore the ancient Church of Jesus Christ and His priesthood in these latter days. This restoration was to be the last, the dispensation of the fulness of times, restoring all the priesthood blessings which man could possess on earth. With this divine commission, his work was not to reform nor was it to protest what was already on the earth. It was to restore what had been on earth and had been lost.

Two Hundred Rabbits by Lonzo and Adrienne Adams. New York: The Viking Press, 1968. A tired traveler saves the day for a young boy and one hundred ninety-nine rabbits intent on entertaining the king.

L. Tom Perry
(46) As a boy, L. Tom Perry and other Primary children hike to a favorite canyon spot with their teacher.

My mom reads the illustrated Book of Mormon stories to me. It helps me to understand what faith is.
Heitor F., age 5, Paraná, Brazil

The branch president of the Kingston Branch of the Church wore his own identifying label. Gustav Wacker was from the old country. He spoke English with a thick accent. He never owned or drove a car. He plied the trade of a barber. The highlight of his day would be when he had the privilege of cutting the hair of a missionary. Never would there be a charge. Indeed, he would reach deep into his pockets and give the missionaries all of his tips for the day. If it were raining, as it often does in Kingston, President Wacker would call a taxi and send the missionaries to their apartment by taxi, while he himself, at day’s end, would lock the small shop and walk home—in the driving rain.
I first met Gustav Wacker when I noticed that his tithing paid was far in excess of that expected from his potential income. My efforts to explain that the Lord required no more than ten percent as tithing fell on attentive but unconvinced ears. He simply responded that he loved to pay all he could to the Lord. It amounted to about half his income. His dear wife felt exactly as he did. Their unique manner of tithing payment continued throughout their earning lives.
Gustav and Margarete Wacker established a home that was a heaven. They were not blessed with children but mothered and fathered their many Church visitors. A sophisticated and learned leader from Ottawa told me, “I like to visit President Wacker. I come away refreshed in spirit and determined to ever live close to the Lord.”
Did our Heavenly Father honor such abiding faith? The branch prospered. The membership outgrew the rented Slovakian Hall and moved into a modern and lovely chapel of their own. President and Sister Wacker had their prayers answered by serving a proselyting mission to their native Germany and later a temple mission to the beautiful temple in Washington, D.C. Then, just three months ago, his mission in mortality concluded, Gustav Wacker passed away peacefully while being held in the loving arms of his eternal companion. Only one label appears fitting for such an obedient and faithful servant: “Who honors God, God honors.” (See 1 Sam. 2:30.)