Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, when our children were teenagers, we purchased a ski boat. A little while after we bought the boat, my two sons and I decided to venture out in it just before sunset. Out on the water, the motor suddenly spluttered for a few seconds and then cut out. The fuel gage stated we still had a quarter tank, but a quick investigation revealed that we had in fact run out of fuel. We made contact with our family onshore who arranged for a rescue party to come to our aid. We had been let down by a faulty fuel gage.
Unlike the faulty fuel gage, the old ship Zion will never let us down. Remaining on the old ship Zion, or active in and staying true to the gospel, will result in increased faith, happiness and growth.

One time while going through the St. Louis (Missouri) railroad station, I met a minister at the servicemen’s canteen. He invited me into a small conference room so that we could talk. He asked me if I belonged to a church; I replied that I did not. He said that in my career in the armed service I would, no doubt, find myself in company that would not be the best for me, that there would be girls who would desire my association and that my friends might try to convince me that it would be stupid not to take shrewd advantage of these situations. But he said that remaining clean and chaste was not stupid—it was very wise; and that although there were many who thought the life of Jesus Christ was a weak and senseless way to live, their opinion did not make it so. He said that a clean life was to be highly prized and that when I married—as I surely would some day—I should be as morally clean and virtuous as I would expect my bride to be. Living a pure life might be difficult, but it would be well worth my efforts; for one thing, I would be better able to draw strength and courage to meet the challenge of demanding situations in the military. He also said it would be best for me to make my decision about this right then, while I could still view it with a detached perspective.
That encounter was very impressive to me. I knew that what he told me was true, but I did not realize at that time that I had made a decision to follow his counsel. Afterwards I faced many dangerous moral situations, but somehow I came through unscathed, as though someone were protecting me.

The Targeteer A classes of the Orem Fourteenth Ward decided to do something to beautify our sacrament trays. This was done in secret so that only the members of the class and our teacher knew about it. Everyone rolled up their sleeves and really scrubbed and polished the trays. We became so enthusiastic that one class member suggested that we also clean the storage shelves. We felt good about it and many of the ward members commented on the gleaming silver trays.
We also baked cookies at our teacher’s home and took them to some of the sick and elderly people of the ward where we sang songs and visited.

When Marie married Tony, a nonmember, she was sure that he would not long resist the beauty and grace of the church that contained the full gospel of Jesus Christ. She loved the gospel, she loved him—surely the two would naturally come together. But, as the years went by, and even after six children, Tony was no closer to becoming a member of the Church.
All this time, Marie suffered the dilemma that many active Latter-day Saint members married to less-active or nonmember spouses share. She had two loves that she couldn’t bring together.
The gospel grew to be more precious as Marie became a wife and then a mother. More than anything, she wanted to share the gospel message with her husband. At times, she wanted to shake the earth with her testimony so that he, her best friend and confidant, would suddenly understand. Her existence, as well as that of her children and husband, had been enriched by the Church’s teachings and standards. Couldn’t he see that?
Although she wanted Tony to understand her regard for the Church, she recognized that using the Church as a wedge would split, rather than solidify, her marriage. She had seen it happen before when husbands and wives tried to force the Church into their relationships, only to have anger and rebellion result.
Marie determined not to have to force a choice between the Church and her husband, making the Church her husband’s enemy. If anything, the gospel was an ally, teaching her how to love, and understand, and forgive.
She felt that, aside from one’s own personal relationship with God, a good marriage relationship was the most sacred concern of a husband and wife. She decided that converting Tony to the Church ought not be her primary goal, nor should the marriage be sacrificed to that end. “After ten years of disappointment,” she says, “I decided to stop putting pressure on Tony to join the Church. Before we were married, my parents were upset about our engagement. They tried hard to discourage us, but, from the moment we married, they ceased their opposition and gave us 100 percent of their love and support. I should have followed their good example years earlier.
“So one day I said to Tony, ‘You are more important to me than anything else, regardless of whether you join the Church.’ Since then, we have been happier, and I have felt more peaceful.
“Tony treats me well; he has good values, and he is honest. But I had been feeling sorry for myself because he wasn’t a Church member. I decided to stop complaining and start being grateful. The Church doesn’t make marriage work—love, acceptance, and trust do that. The Church is a guide, not a guarantee.”

And repentance is a miracle, made possible by the atonement of the Savior. A young man bore this testimony: “I think of all the pain I caused my parents—and myself—by not realizing that sin does not bring happiness. After high school I moved out and started drinking, smoking, and using a little drugs. I thought I was having a good time, but now I know I was really quite miserable.
“Then one day I stopped and thought, ‘What if my parents could see me now? What would they think?’
“It was then that I started to turn my life around. I discovered that I wasn’t achieving happiness. I would never have been able to change without some good new friends and an understanding bishop—and without the help of the Holy Ghost. But with their help I was able to repent. And now I see how unhappy I was. I testify that repentance and righteous living bring happiness. And I know from experience that the Lord is always there to help us change our lives if we only let him.”

Sometimes the larger eternal reality the Lord lets us feel includes family across the veil. A sister found joy in conversion to Jesus Christ’s restored gospel. Yet two traumas had deeply impacted her life—seeing a boating accident and tragically losing her mother, who had taken her own life.
Yet this sister overcame her fear of water enough to be baptized by immersion. And on what became a very happy day, she witnessed someone, acting as proxy for her deceased mother, be baptized in the temple. “Temple baptism healed my mother, and it freed me,” the sister said. “It was the first time I felt peace since my mother died.”

One day when President Hinckley was about five years old, he was sitting on his front porch with some friends. A family of another race walked down the street in front of the house. Young Gordon and his friends made some unkind remarks about the people. His mother heard what they said, and she took them inside to talk with them. She told them that all people are sons and daughters of God. That day he learned that we must respect and help one another, regardless of race, religion, wealth, or anything else.

Class was starting, and I felt as nervous as a cat in a thunderstorm.
After roll call we would be starting with Kenneth’s speech. That would give me about fifteen to twenty minutes. Why do I have to give my speech today? I thought. Why did I choose Joseph Smith as my “famous American”?
The majority of the class were Baptist, including the teacher. I was the only Mormon in the whole group. I must have felt brave the day I chose this topic.
Kenneth was almost finished. No one had any questions about his speech on President Dwight D. Eisenhower.
It was my turn.
“My ‘famous American’ is Joseph Smith,” I began. “He was born in. …” My speech lasted about ten minutes—not bad.
“Any questions?” the teacher asked.
It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop.
“Well, I have one,” my teacher replied. “What is the name of the church that Joseph started?”
I knew I had left out something and it would be the most important part. I answered, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, more commonly known as the Mormons.”
That started the questions: Where did the plates come from? Who was Moroni? How did he get the plates? And oh, yes, the usual question—What about polygamy? By this time I was feeling pretty good. I answered all of the questions that I could, and then one student, who I’ll always be thankful to, asked, “How do you know it’s true?”
This question touched me. I truly felt the Spirit in my heart and in the room.
I looked at my questioner and said, “Bill, have you ever felt so right about something that no matter what anybody else says, you know it’s true? You know in your heart, and no one can persuade you otherwise?”
A hush came over the class. Even the teacher didn’t have a reply.
I’ll always be thankful to Bill for helping me realize that I do have a testimony and that I shouldn’t keep it inside.
I had been in front of the class answering questions for over thirty minutes. We even missed part of our break. And I felt radiant the rest of the day.
This experience helped me realize that people want to know about the gospel. I also realized that I have a duty to share my knowledge with others.

I would like to tell you a story of an excellent athlete—a young man with superb character. He never went to the Olympics, but he stands as tall as any Olympian because he was honest with himself and with his God.
The account is told by a coach in a junior high school. He states:
“Today was test day in climbing the rope. We climb from a standing start to a point 15 feet high. [My job is] to train and teach the boys to negotiate this distance in as few seconds as possible.
“The school record for the event is 2.1 seconds. It has stood for three years. Today this record was broken. …
“For three years Bobby Polacio, a 14 1/2-year-old ninth grade … boy, [had trained and worked, consumed by his dream] of breaking this record.
“In his first of three attempts, Bobby climbed the rope in 2.1 seconds, tying the record. On the second try the watch stopped at 2.0 seconds flat, a record! But as he descended the rope and the entire class gathered around to check the watch, I knew I must ask Bobby a question. There was a slight doubt in my mind whether or not the board at the 15 foot height had been touched. If he missed, it was so very, very close—not more than a fraction of an inch—and only Bobby knew this answer.
“As he walked toward me, expressionless, I said, ‘Bobby, did you touch?’ If he had said, ‘Yes,’ the record he had dreamed of since he was a skinny seventh-grader and had worked for almost daily would be his, and he knew I would trust his word.
“With the class already cheering him for his performance, the slim, … boy shook his head negatively. And in this simple gesture, I witnessed a moment of greatness. …
“… And it was with effort through a tight throat that I told the class: ‘This boy has not set a record in the rope climb. No, he has set a much finer record for you and everyone to strive for. He has told the truth.’
“I turned to Bobby and said, ‘Bobby, I’m proud of you. You’ve just set a record many athletes never attain. Now, in your last try I want you to jump a few inches higher on the takeoff.’ …
“After the other boys had finished their next turns, and Bobby came up … for his try, a strange stillness came over the gymnasium. Fifty boys and one coach [watched] breathlessly [as] Bobby Polacio … climbed the rope in 1.9 seconds! A school record, a city record, and perhaps close to a national record for a junior high school boy.
“When the bell rang and I walked away, … I was thinking: ‘Bobby, … at 14 you are a better man than I. Thank you for climbing so very, very high today’” (Especially for Mormons, 1972, 1:185–86).

Can the Master touch others’ lives through you and me? Oh yes, he can, and he will if we will just do our part. A home teacher in Florida let the Savior’s touch be felt in this way. I quote excerpts from a letter to me dated July 8, 1980.
“When I joined the Church in 1973, my husband did not join. He didn’t want to come to meetings, and he wasn’t sure there was a God anyway.
“In 1975 our home teacher became my husband’s best friend. For more than three years he missed coming only once. My husband found in our home teacher someone to talk to. He unburdened his years of bitterness and unhappiness. He had never had a real friend before in his entire life.
“In August 1978, our home teacher told us he was moving. We were heartbroken. On his last visit, our home teacher, with my husband’s permission, talked about how one can gain a testimony.
“In November, Elder Ballard, you came to our stake and taught the gospel at a special fireside. My husband and I attended and at the conclusion of the meeting, you put your arm around my husband and the Lord spoke through you. You told my husband that our Heavenly Father loved him and wanted him to be baptized and that the Church needed him.
“That night my husband made a decision to be baptized. We called our former home teacher, now living in Louisiana, to see when he could come to baptize my husband. He came and baptized him. One year later he was with us and our family when we were sealed for time and eternity in the Washington Temple.
“Although you may not remember us—for we know you meet many people every year—our lives were touched in an unforgettable way. We are especially grateful to our faithful home teacher.”

My father-in-law taught at BYU and loved BYU football but could not bring himself to watch their games because he was so nervous about the outcome. Then a wonderful thing happened—the VCR was invented, which made it possible for him to record the games. If BYU won, he would watch the recording with perfect confidence, absolutely certain of the ending! If they were penalized unfairly, injured, or behind late in the fourth quarter, he wasn’t stressed because he knew they would pull it out! You might say he had “a perfect brightness of hope”!

Richard and Carol had been married for 20 years. When they first came to see a counselor to resolve their marital difficulties, Carol complained that Richard was cruel, manipulative, thoughtless, and ill tempered. The counselor turned to Richard, expecting to hear a different story, and was surprised to hear him agree with Carol. He later learned that Richard had low self-esteem and compensated for it by trying to control Carol and their children. Richard acknowledged that he needed help and said that he was eager to change.
Over the next year, the counselor watched Richard gradually become kinder and more thoughtful. Happy with the changes he was making, Richard felt good about himself. Nevertheless, Carol filed for divorce. While it was true that Richard had treated Carol poorly in the past, he had repented and changed. But the hurt Carol felt ran deep, and she was unable to forgive him.
The story of Richard and Carol is not unusual. Many couples hold grudges for years, sometimes using the memory of hurts as justification for punishing each other. Their unwillingness to forgive stifles communication, and their interaction becomes strained.

“It sure takes a long time to wait a few minutes!” Daniel muttered to himself, glancing at the schoolroom clock. Just thinking about picking apples after school with Grandpa made him feel like jumping up and down and hollering. Even hard work with Grandpa was fun.
“Class!” Mrs. Webb waited until everyone was quiet. “Your assignment for language arts is to write a story about an ancestor. Remember that every story must have a dilemma—a problem to solve. Any questions?”
Daniel’s heart sank. I’m tired of hearing about ancestors, he thought. I don’t care a scrap about mine. How can I? I’m adopted! And I don’t even have to hunt for a dilemma—I am one!
It seemed lately that every talk in church and every Primary lesson was about ancestors. “I can’t write any names on this chart,” he had told his Primary teacher. “I don’t even know who my real parents are, let alone my grandparents.”
“But you’ve been sealed to your mom and dad and legally adopted,” she said. “In the eyes of the Lord, your mom and dad are your real parents, and their ancestors are yours.”
“I guess I just feel that that’s not fair or honest. I wish I knew who I really am.”
Daniel’s memories were interrupted by the final school bell, and he plodded sadly off to Grandpa’s house. Even the cookie-and-milk snack he got there didn’t cheer him up. When Grandpa asked, “Why the sad face?” Daniel burst into tears.
Grandpa sat on the rocking chair and pulled Daniel onto his lap. “Trouble at school? Hurtin’ someplace? Why not tell your old grandpap all about it?”
Never before had Daniel mentioned his worries about being adopted. Now he blurted out the whole sad story. Grandpa listened quietly. “Oh, Grandpa, I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “A big fourth-grade guy shouldn’t be bawling like this.”
“Well, he should if he needs to. Even old men sometimes do.”
“I bet you never did.”
“Oh yes I have! I’ve even shed happy tears.”
“How can anyone cry about being happy?”
“I can remember being pretty weepy when I first saw you. I was grateful that you were going to be part of my family. Your parents had been awfully sad because they had no children. You were an answer to all our prayers.”
Daniel and Grandpa walked to the orchard and began to pick apples. One happy idea led to others, and they were soon talking about family fun and activities. Then Daniel suddenly stopped working. He stood thoughtfully, holding an apple in each hand. “Hey, how did this happen? These were both growing on the same tree, but they aren’t alike at all. They’re even different colors.”
Grandpa explained about grafting—how a branch from one tree can be joined to another, how it can become so much a part of the tree that it’s hard to tell that it was ever separate. “The whole tree is supported and fed by the same roots,” Grandpa said. “It’s really quite a miracle.”
“Why, Grandpa, that’s just like me, isn’t it? And now I’m growing on your family tree. That would make a good story for me to write, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I surely do—a story with a very happy ending.”
“I’m glad I found out about grafting. And, Grandpa, you must be the very best root in the whole world.”
“And no family tree has a better branch than you,” Grandpa said, giving Daniel a grandpa-sized hug.

After my grandmother died, my cousin moved in with me and became my guardian. My cousins are my best friends, but the change was still really hard. I had to learn to do all the chores that my grandmother used to do. I had to wake myself up for school and take care of the house.
My bishop had always talked about self-reliance, so I searched about it in Gospel Library. It helped me learn to stand on my own two feet.

The mayor of Bastia knew very well that the missionaries standing in front of him were foreigners. Why, he wondered, would young men come from other countries and offer to help his people on the island of Corsica?
After a pause, he accepted their offer and challenged them to show up early the next morning to paint his small hotel.
True to their promise, the young men arrived at 7:00 a.m., eager and ready to refinish the mayor’s hotel on this picturesque island off the coast of France in the Mediterranean Sea.
When the mayor arrived at the hotel later that day to find the missionaries still working in the coastal sun, “he was astonished to see us there,” said Jake Lowry, one of the missionaries serving at the time.
Amazed at their willingness to bend their backs to help people they didn’t know, the mayor softened his resistance and “asked us to sit down and tell him what we needed,” Brother Lowry said.
The missionaries shared the gospel and told how their purpose was to bless the people on the isle of Corsica. They recounted their difficulties in finding an apartment because of residents who were weary of outsiders. A few months earlier, all missionaries had been removed from the island for safety reasons. But these elders had now reopened it for missionary work.
The mayor listened to the elders. “By the next morning,” Brother Lowry said, “he had secured a well-situated apartment for us and written a kind note.”
That evening, after settling into their new accommodations, “two well-dressed representatives from the mayor’s office stopped by to greet us and assure us that we were welcome and safe in the city,” Brother Lowry said.
In short order, the mayor and his wife began attending Sunday meetings with the branch, where they loved singing the hymns. Soon the mayor’s wife was baptized.
From these simple beginnings in the early 1990s, the Church took root on this island renowned as the birthplace of Napoleon Bonaparte. Missionary work soon flourished. After three months, more than 40 people were attending Sunday services in a wonderful meeting place arranged by the mayor.

On the way to priesthood meeting on Sunday mornings, Dad would make several stops. He would leave the car, disappear to the rear of the home, and then, in a minute or two, reappear. I inquired about why we were making the stops. “Oh, just a little missionary work” was his usual response. It wasn’t until I was a priest that I realized the missionary work being done was the quorum president knocking on bedroom windows reminding his sleepy quorum members of the need to attend their meetings. As the president of the Aaronic Priesthood, the bishop has the responsibility to see that all youth receive instruction concerning the doctrines of the kingdom as well as in the principles of honesty and charity. When the bishop encourages your attendance at meetings, he is not attempting to plan your life or adjust your schedules. He is attempting to show interest and concern because he knows the importance of partaking of the sacrament and the strength we gain by associating with each other.

Thank you for such a beautiful and inspirational October edition: “From First Date to Eternal Mate.” When I came home from school, the first thing I saw was the New Era. My mum had placed it on the table so I would not miss it. That day at school all 32 class members bombarded me with questions about my beliefs on dating and marriage. I explained why I’m not going to be dating until I turn 16, and why I don’t watch TV programs or movies or listen to music that is suggestive. On my way home I wondered what I could do on a date and how I should go about dating. In answer to my silent prayer, I opened the door and saw the New Era! I read it from cover to cover and deeply felt the Spirit, knowing that the things I had shared in class were true.Rachel Gordon, Oxford Ward, Reading England Stake

Twenty-year-old Elaine Jack of Livingstone Ward, Scotland, found this to be so. “Not only was I the only LDS student at school where religious beliefs were mocked, but I was also the only active youth at church,” she says. “Now that I’m older, I don’t mind being different, but as a teenager I wanted so much to be accepted. Between ages 15 and 17 I stayed away from church. Until then I had relied on my parents’ testimony. This was not enough.

“It wasn’t until a caring Primary leader asked me to help with the children,” continues Elaine, “that I slowly began attending church again. I was still ready to find fault with everything. Then I studied the Book of Mormon in institute. That completely turned me around. By then I was ready to reach out and learn. The last three chapters of Second Nephi became especially significant to me.”

Perhaps less visible than the Prophet’s father, but equally important in shaping and influencing his life, was his mother, Lucy Mack Smith. Although this strong woman gave occasional leadership, her primary role appeared to be support to the family. She gave birth to eleven children and endured faithfully as all but four preceded her in death. During her life, she watched six of her immediate family and one grandson die as a result of ruthless mob violence and persecution.
Lucy prepared herself early in her marriage to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, ed. Preston Nibley [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1958], pp. 34–35).
She gave continual encouragement, support, and strength to her son Joseph the Prophet. His mother was the first person with whom young Joseph shared some of his momentous experiences of the Sacred Grove. Years later, he shared with her the joy and relief he felt when the Lord allowed others to view the sacred plates of gold. Lucy wrote that “Joseph threw himself down beside me, and exclaimed, … ‘You do not know how happy I am: the Lord has now caused the plates to be shown to three more besides myself. They have seen an angel, … and they will have to bear witness to the truth of what I have said, for now they know for themselves, that I do not go about to deceive the people, and I feel as if I was relieved of a burden which was almost too heavy for me to bear’” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 152).
The Prophet’s mother shared also in his sorrows, sufferings, and persecutions. One time a mob took Joseph and his brother Hyrum prisoner and threatened to shoot them. The two brothers were confined under a cloth cover in a wagon. Their courageous mother risked her life and forced her way through the hostile mob to comfort her sons. Joseph and Hyrum could not see their mother and could only extend a hand from under the confining cover. As Lucy’s hand and the hands of her sons touched, the wagon drove off, literally tearing the sorrowing mother from her two sons.
Her determination to testify to the restoration of the gospel may have led her to dictate her well-known History of Joseph Smith. This was a major undertaking in her day. The book’s importance to the Church today is immeasurable! It contains many details of the Prophet Joseph’s life that might never have been known otherwise. It stands as a monument to the devotion of Lucy Mack Smith and her family.
Like great parents of all ages, Lucy turned to prayer for divine help to sustain her family. During the march from Ohio to Missouri known as Zion’s Camp, Joseph and Hyrum were seriously ill with cholera, and their lives were almost taken. At one point, “Hyrum sprang to his feet and exclaimed, ‘Joseph, we shall return to our families. I have had an open vision, in which I saw mother kneeling under an apple tree; and she is even now asking God, in tears, to spare our lives. … The Spirit testifies, that her prayers … will be answered’” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 229).
In the exercise of agency and in the divine providence of God, Lucy’s sons Joseph and Hyrum ultimately sealed their testimonies with their blood. As the grieving mother looked upon their lifeless remains, she cried, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!” As a kind blessing to a faithful mother, the Lord softened her grief and granted to her the peace that only God can bestow. A voice spoke to her soul: “I have taken them to myself, that they might have rest” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 324).

I commence my message this morning with a question: Have you ever taken a vacation with your entire family? If not, you are in for some surprises when you do. My wife and I a few years ago joined our children, their companions, and the grandchildren at Disneyland in southern California. Beyond the entrance to the famous theme park, the group rushed to what was then the newest feature—Star Tours. You enter a simulated rocket, take your seat, and fasten your seat belt. All of a sudden the entire vehicle begins to vibrate violently. I think the mechanical voice which comes over the loudspeaker calls it “heavy turbulence.” (I have never returned to this featured ride. I get all the real turbulence I can handle just flying from place to place fulfilling my responsibilities.)
After recuperating for a few minutes, we journeyed to the feature with the longest line. It is called Splash Mountain. The crowd filed round and round in a serpentine pattern. The music, which was piped through the loudspeakers to the waiting throng, contained the words of the song:
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay,
My, oh my, what a wonderful day!
Plenty of sunshine, headin’ my way,
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay!
By now we were ready to board the boat which would carry us in a vertical dive that evoked screams from the passengers in the boat ahead as it roared down the waterfall and glided to a stop in the water below. Just before taking the plunge, however, I noticed on one wall a small sign declaring a profound truth: “You can’t run away from trouble; there’s no place that far!”
These few words have remained with me. They pertain not only to the theme of Splash Mountain but also to our sojourn in mortality.