Gospel Story Finder

When Elder Holland was a young dad, he moved across the country with his wife and two children to go to college.
They packed everything in their little car and started driving. After only 34 miles, the car broke down. Elder Holland looked under the car’s hood, but he didn’t know what was wrong. He walked three miles back to the nearest town to get help.
When he got there, a kind man gave him a ride back to his car. They drove Elder Holland’s car very slowly back to a larger city to get it repaired.
The mechanic checked the car for two hours, but he couldn’t find anything wrong. So Elder Holland and his family set off again. At exactly the same spot as last time, the car broke down again!
Elder Holland started the long walk for help again. The same kind man gave him a ride and helped bring the car back to the larger city. Elder Holland felt worried and discouraged.
Thirty years after this happened, Elder Holland drove by the same spot, this time in a car that worked. He remembered how hard that time was for his family. He wished he could tell his younger self, “Don’t give up, boy. Don’t you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead—a lot of it—30 years of it now, and still counting. You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come.”

I’m sure He’ll call His little ones
Together ’round His knee
Because He said in days gone by,
“Suffer them to come to me.”
I wonder, when He comes again,
Will I be ready there
To look upon His loving face
And join with Him in prayer?
Each day I’ll try to do His will
And let my light so shine
That others seeing me may seek
For greater light divine.
Then, when that blessed day is here,
He’ll love me and He’ll say,
“You’ve served me well, my little child,
Come unto my arms to stay.”

My greatest adventure, however, was the reading of the Holy Bible. From infancy I had enjoyed the simplified and illustrated Bible stories, but the original Bible seemed so interminable in length, so difficult to understand, that I avoided it until a challenge came to me from Sister Susa Young Gates. She was the speaker at the MIA meeting of stake conference and gave a discourse on the value of reading the Bible. In conclusion she asked for a showing of hands of all who had read it through. The hands that were raised out of that large congregation were so few and so timid! Some of them tried to explain by saying, “We haven’t read it through but we have studied many parts of it.”
I was shocked into an unalterable determination to read that great book. As soon as I reached home after the meeting I began with the first verse of Genesis and continued faithfully every day. Most of the reading was done in my attic bedroom that I occupied alone. I burned considerable midnight oil and read long hours when I was thought to be asleep.
Approximately a year later I reached the last verses in Revelation:
“He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.”
What a satisfaction it was to me to realize I had read the Bible through from beginning to end! What exultation of spirit! And what joy in the overall picture I had received of its contents!
For more than half of a century now I have continued to be grateful to Sister Gates for the inspiration that provoked me to read the Holy Bible my first time.
I commend it to you, young and old.

My mom and I went to the mall to buy my grandma’s birthday present. While we were walking through the mall, I saw a big picture of a woman wearing clothing that did not cover very much of her body. I looked away the whole time we were walking by it. President Hinckley has asked us to be clean. I can keep my mind clean by not looking at bad pictures.
My mom and dad gave me the “great plate” (a special plate to honor someone who has been good that day) at dinner because my mom saw me look away from the picture all by myself. I know that if I keep my mind clean and pure like the prophet asks us to, I will be happy.

When he was 14 years old, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was asked whether he had read the Bible all the way through. “I had read many books by that time, the funny papers, and light books, but my accusing heart said to me, ‘You, Spencer Kimball, you have never read that holy book. Why?”1 From that point on, President Kimball made it a point to “feast upon the words of Christ” (2 Nephi 32:3).

In a live Q&A session on Instagram, Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was asked about the most meaningful insight he had gained as an Apostle. He explained that God’s work is accomplished by finding and ministering to the one: “The most impactful thing I’ve learned is how real it is to say that the Lord knows us. He knows us by name. He knows us one by one. And that’s how He does His work.”1
He ended by sharing his witness that Christ knows us one by one.

I once wrote a poem on moods. One of the lines described how I would like to be locked in a room that had no key so I could be away from the world’s crimes. When I read the New Era, I feel that my poem has come true. The stories, poems, and all the other contents have a lot of meaning for me. My family moves around a lot, and I know that in every town I will have a friend—the New Era.
Monice GingerichTrafford, Pennsylvania

I first visited the River Ribble near Preston, England, while serving as a young missionary in the British Mission. There, Apostle and missionary Heber C. Kimball baptized the first converts to the restored Church of Jesus Christ outside of North America in July 1837.
As I stood on a bridge overlooking the river and thought about what had occurred there, I received an overpowering witness of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel.
My spiritually inspiring experience on the bridge over the River Ribble as a young missionary brought me the eternal joy promised to those who share the gospel (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:15).

It was Saturday night, and we were bored, so my brother and I decided to go pick up a movie. As I was browsing through an aisle in the electronics department, my brother pointed to a movie and told me his friend had really liked it. I read the description on both the back and front covers. It looked innocent enough, so I told him to go ahead and purchase it.
When we came home with the movie, I opened the case and went to turn the movie on. As I did, I picked up the case, turned it over, and was shocked to find—as I had failed to notice at the store—that the movie was rated R. My mother came in a few seconds later to call us together for family prayer.
During the prayer, my mind was racked with the decision of watching the movie or putting it away. My brother had just spent all this money on the movie, and I had already opened the case, thus eliminating the possibility of returning it! Why hadn’t I checked the rating? I couldn’t possibly tell him he had just wasted his money and I was not going to watch the movie. Maybe I could watch it once and never again.
Suddenly, I was reminded of an upcoming youth temple trip. I knew what I needed to do—keep the standards and be worthy to attend the temple. I could not willingly disobey the words of the prophets. I told my mom and brother of my dilemma and surprisingly, my brother said it was fine to get rid of the movie and would not ask me to pay him back for it. I am glad I made the right choice, and I am thankful that I upheld the Lord’s standards.

Brent Jones started it, but it was his little brother Scott who got the rest of us involved. Brent and his friends were graduating from Viewmont High School in Centerville, Utah, and soon they’d all be leaving on missions. They wanted to do one last thing together as a group. So Brent asked his dad Clarence, an avid backpacker, to take them to the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming. That was two years ago.
Brent’s younger brother Scott tagged along on that outing and made his father promise that he and his friends could have a similar trip the next year.
Then Scott’s friends added something new. They invited all of their dads, too. I’m one of those fathers. And by the time all the invitations were extended, there were 20 of us going to the mountains—five dads, eight sons, one son-in-law, and six friends.
Backpacking is nothing new to the Joneses. In that family the boys start hiking when they turn eight. But taking a group of 20 into the Wind Rivers would mean a lot of preparation. Such a trip isn’t just a holiday; it’s also a matter of survival.
“Great,” Scott Jones’s friends joked. “It’ll make our dads tougher.”
They soon found out it would make the boys tougher, too, not just in terms of physical endurance, but in terms of long-range planning and organization.
“I made up a menu,” Clarence said. “But I wanted the boys to have the experience of putting the trip together, so I told them they had to collect the money and buy the supplies.”
Each person’s pack would weigh 40 pounds, including tent, sleeping bag, fishing gear, and other essentials—like food!
Based on a budget of $20 per person (which included gas money for transportation as well), the Jones boys and their friends organized menus, assigned cooking groups, and packed the food in plastic bags marked with the day each meal would be eaten.
Before they left, the backpackers studied their route. Brother Jones, familiar with the trails in the Wind Rivers, only promised this: “It’ll be a character builder!”
The first day’s hike was tough, rising 2,000 feet in 10 miles. The trail was good, but mostly uphill. Blisters, sore feet, and aching muscles were common.
But the payoff was getting to the 10,500-foot plateau where the wilderness landscape is magnificent. Stately pine trees, distant rugged peaks, grassy meadows, rivers, streams, cliffs, and huge boulders formed the panorama.
“The beauty there is something you don’t find on the freeways,” said Dean Layton. “We had to earn it. We were just climbing a trail until we got the first ten miles behind us. Then we saw the real beauty.”
“It’s so untouched,” Dave Hill said, “so close to what I imagine creation looked like after the sixth day. You almost feel you shouldn’t talk, so you won’t destroy the sacredness of the environment.”
“You know it didn’t happen accidentally,” Joseph Nelson said.
Brother Jones kept us moving from one adventure to another—another stream to fish in; another lake to camp by; another panoramic vista; and at different times, storms rolling across mountain ridges, their lightning silhouetting black trees against a black sky.
But it wasn’t just the beauty of the place that made our trip delightful. It was the shared experience between fathers and sons. When you have the opportunity to be together and depend on each other for days at a time, there’s no bluffing, no phoniness. You see each other as you really are.

When I was six years old, I set a goal to read the Book of Mormon before I turned eight. I wanted to read it before I was baptized. I was reading slowly at first. For a long time, I only read a few verses a day. When I turned seven, my parents and I looked to see how many more pages I needed to read before my baptism. I started doing just enough to reach my goal, but then I began to read even more. I just finished reading the Book of Mormon—three months before my baptism! I hope other children will read the Book of Mormon too. I know it is a true book.

Illustration by Mark Robison
“The rain barrel is empty,” said 10-year-old Lydia as she wiped a plate dry. “May I use some well water on my raspberry patch?”
Lydia’s mother sighed as she washed a bowl in the sink. “I’m afraid raspberries are a luxury during a drought. You may use the dish rinse water, but we need to save the well water.”
Lydia frowned. Her raspberry jam had once won a blue ribbon at the Iowa State Fair. She didn’t think her berries would be as delicious if she used dishwater on them.
Lydia’s father came into the kitchen and sat down heavily. He wiped his sweaty forehead.
“Are you all right, Stephen?” Mother asked.
“I’m fine,” Father said, “but I have some bad news. The well has finally gone dry.”
Lydia felt a stab of worry. A lot of the neighbors’ wells had already dried out. Mother twisted her apron in her hands.
“Don’t despair,” Father said gently, taking Mother’s hand. “We still have the deeper windmill well out in the fields. I’m taking the tank truck there right now.”
“May I go?” Lydia asked, suddenly feeling better. She was so glad they had that windmill!
“Yes,” Mother said. “I’ll save the rinse water for you.”
“Thank you!” Lydia hurried outside. Maybe if she helped fetch the well water, Father would let her use some on the raspberries.
Father climbed into the truck, and they began their dusty drive to the far end of the fields. When they reached the windmill, Lydia sat up and stared. Several wagons and trucks lined the road, and a crowd of people stood around the well. All of them had tanks and barrels.
“What are they doing?” Lydia asked.
Father narrowed his eyes. “Getting water, it looks like.”
“But it’s our water!” Lydia said. She imagined her raspberries drying out under the hot sun. “We need it. They can’t just take it!”
Father parked the truck and hopped out. “Stay put, Lydia,” he said.
The people around the well froze and silently watched Father approach.
Lydia couldn’t hear what Father said, but when he finished talking, she was surprised that many of the people were smiling. Some even cried and shook Father’s hand. Then they all worked together to fill all their barrels and tanks.
Lydia didn’t understand. Why was Father doing this?
When the crowd left and Father began filling his own tank, Lydia climbed out.
“You gave away our water,” Lydia muttered. Confusion and anger washed over her.
Lydia’s father stooped down so he was face-to-face with Lydia. “Listen carefully, Lydia Lucille. I figure the water in this well is a gift from God. We no more own it than we own the air we breathe. As long as there is water in this well, we will share it with those in need.”
Father then dipped a ladle into a bucket and handed it to Lydia. Gratefully she drank the cold, clean water. She thought about all the other people and how scary it must be for them to not have water of their own. She was glad her father decided to share.
Lydia scrambled back into the truck. She was anxious to get home and pour the dishwater on her thirsty berries. She might not get as many big, juicy raspberries this year. But whatever she got, she would be sure to share.
Even though many people used the windmill well on Lydia’s farm during the summer drought of 1930, the well never ran out of water.

A Quiet Night In by Jill Murphy Mrs. Large got the four little Larges ready for bed early so that she and Mr. Large could celebrate his birthday with a quiet night in. When he came home from work, all the little Larges asked was that he read them a story. But he fell asleep in the middle of it—and Mrs. Large fell asleep while trying to finish it for them. So the little Larges very quietly put themselves to bed!

Joseph cherished the faithfulness and constant support of his beloved parents, as seen by his tender pleading with the Lord concerning his father’s failing health in 1835: “I waited on him all this day with my heart raised to God in the name of Jesus Christ, that He would restore him to health, that I might be blessed with his company and advice, esteeming it one of the greatest earthly blessings to be blessed with the society of parents, whose mature years and experience render them capable of administering the most wholesome advice” (History of the Church, 2:289).
Even when Joseph was most busy with his responsibilities as prophet and President of the Church, his concern for his family and parents came to the fore. His diary for 8–11 October 1835—when he had just commenced again to translate the writings of Abraham—records his concern for his father. No other business was more pressing or important.
“Thursday, 8.—At home. I attended on my father with great anxiety.
“Friday, 9.—At home. Waited on my father.
“Saturday, 10.—At home, and visited the house of my father, found him failing very fast.
“Sunday, 11.—Waited on my father again, who was very sick. In secret prayer in the morning, the Lord said, ‘My servant, thy father shall live.’ …
“At evening Brother David Whitmer came in. We called on the Lord in mighty prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, and laid our hands on [my father], and rebuked the disease. And God heard and answered our prayers—to the great joy and satisfaction of our souls” (History of the Church, 2:289).

In Medford, New Jersey, Kristin Feuz, 17, a member of the Medford Ward, noticed that Medford was celebrating its 150th anniversary in 1997, which coincided with the Church’s sesquicentennial celebration. So she went to work. Along with other members of her ward, she helped plant flowers and clean up several different areas in Medford.

In addition to so many other responsibilities, the President of the Church receives a great deal of correspondence each day. I am reminded of one such letter and share it with you. I have changed the name of the young man who wrote the letter. It begins:
“Dear President,
“Hi. My name is David Smith. I live in an area where the starlings are very bad, and they are making nests in my step-grandpa’s boat and in my dad’s barn and all over the place. My step-grandpa and my dad both think I should shoot them, but my mom doesn’t. I know the law says it is okay, but I am not asking your opinion as a hunter. I am asking your opinion as a Church leader.
“Sincerely, David Smith
“P.S. A starling is a black bird that eats other bird’s eggs and other bad things.”
Each letter which comes in is answered. A response to this particular letter was sent by the secretary to the First Presidency, F. Michael Watson.
“Dear David:
“I have been asked to acknowledge your letter of April 30 addressed to the President of the Church about the problems you have been having with starlings.
“The Church does not have an official policy on this matter. The Brethren feel it should be left up to your parents to give you appropriate guidance.
“I hope this information is helpful to you.
“Sincerely yours, F. Michael Watson”

I want to thank you and let you know how much the New Era has helped me. My parents are not members, and I have had to depend on my aunt and uncle who are members for a lot of strength. I remember many a time walking to my aunt and uncle’s house just to read through the New Era. The Message was always straight and clear. The poetry let me explore my inner self, and the short stories often brought a chuckle or a tear. I’m back from my mission now, and I still indulge in a chuckle or two or let a tear fall as I read through the New Era.
Kenneth FurukawaKaunakakai, Hawaii

Elder Carlos E. Asay, an emeritus member of the Seventy, shares an experience he had as a missionary with this gift. He and his companion visited a branch torn by divisions. His companion was asked to speak at the meeting held to deal with the conflicts. After fasting and prayer, his companion “stood with confidence and worked the miracle. He spoke with the tongue of an angel. That young, inexperienced elder’s words healed wounds festering in the hearts of men much older than he, prompted confessions, and literally saved a branch of the Church” (Ensign, April 1988, 17).

Laura Call, a Laurel in the Safford Arizona Stake, was one of 54 students chosen nationwide to attend the Rickover Science Institute at the Xerox Training Center. She was chosen on the basis of grades, aptitude test scores, essays, and recommendations. She was the only student chosen from Arizona.
The six-week program matched students with a high aptitude for math and science with top-notch teachers who stressed the theoretical aspects of mathematics and physics and biological sciences. Each student served an internship with scientists in ongoing research projects. Laura’s research involved use of a mass spectrometer and gas chromatograph.

After four days at home and the office, Sister Kimball and I left on Saturday, February 28, for Florida for a week-long series of meetings with the Saints and some business leaders. On Saturday, March 7, we broke ground for the new temple in Atlanta, Georgia. Ten thousand were present for this occasion, including the governor of Georgia and his wife, several legislators, and U.S. senators Jake Garn and Paula Hawkins. Immediately following that service, we flew to San Juan, Puerto Rico. The next morning, Sunday, March 8, we held a meeting with over twenty-six hundred members of the stake and mission on that island. We next visited the Dominican Republic and held a meeting at Santo Domingo on Monday. Two years ago there were only two families of members on that island, but at our meeting we had over fifteen hundred members present. We left Santo Domingo on Tuesday, March 10, and that night dedicated a new visitors’ center on the Church’s Deseret Ranch near Orlando, Florida.