Gospel Story Finder

Arlen Olsen is a champ. The 165-pound wrestler from the Helena First Ward, Helena Montana Stake, won the state wrestling title in Montana, came in first in the Northwest Regional Wrestling Tournament, and was chosen from the top high school wrestlers in the country to represent the United States in Europe as a member of the Cultural Exchange Team. Active in seminary, Arlen chose to attend a seminary convention (and convinced two friends to attend, too) instead of competing in a regional AAU tournament held at the same time. Typically, he came home with five blue ribbons from the convention, and his team there took first place in many of the events. An honor student and Eagle Scout with his Duty to God Award, he is also state judo champion, guard on the Helena High varsity football team, “chess king” of the school, and plays trumpet in the high school band.

Late one evening on a Pacific isle, a small boat slipped silently to its berth at the crude pier. Two Polynesian women helped Meli Mulipola from the boat and guided him to the well-worn pathway leading to the village road. The women marveled at the bright stars which twinkled in the midnight sky. The friendly moonlight guided them along their way. However, Meli Mulipola could not appreciate these delights of nature—the moon, the stars, the sky—for he was blind.
His vision had been normal until that fateful day when, while he was working on a pineapple plantation, light turned suddenly to darkness and day became perpetual night. He later learned of the Restoration of the gospel and the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His life had been brought into compliance with these teachings.
He and his loved ones had made this long voyage, having learned that one who held the priesthood of God was visiting among the islands. Brother Mulipola sought a blessing under the hands of those who held the sacred priesthood. His wish was granted. Tears streamed from his sightless eyes and coursed down his brown cheeks, tumbling finally upon his native dress. He dropped to his knees and prayed: “Oh, God, Thou knowest I am blind. Thy servants have blessed me that if it be Thy will, my sight may return. Whether in Thy wisdom I see light or whether I see darkness all the days of my life, I will be eternally grateful for the truth of Thy gospel, which I now see and which provides me the light of life.”
He arose to his feet, thanked us for providing the blessing, and disappeared into the dark of the night. Silently he came; silently he departed. But his presence I shall never forget. I reflected upon the message of the Master: “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”

There was no doubting the dedication or enthusiasm of the leaders who came to the conference to learn their duties. They stood in bulging lines outside the tabernacle to get in, and then many had to wait outside during the sessions. And everywhere they were talking to each other, not about baseball or the stock market or Watergate, but about the program, trying to find someone who understood it a little better than they did, trying to find out how to make it work, trying to learn how to better fulfill their stewardship.

Lee Shaw of Salt Lake City enjoys taking his six children backpacking in the high Uintas. “When kids hike into their camping spot, it helps them discover things,” says Lee. “It brings out the explorer in them.” Since several of Lee’s children are too small to carry a heavy pack, he must be particularly careful to eliminate any extra weight. “I repackage most things,” says Lee. “I strip them down to their lightest, smallest form.”
If his family is on a short trip, he will often freeze meat to take with them. If the meat is insulated away from the outer surfaces of the pack, it takes a day or more to thaw and can be used fresh.

In therapy, I once told a wife that I had never witnessed her showing godly sorrow for years of criticizing her husband. Her response was not regret but sulking: “Great, here is another thing I am not doing!” Abusive people reject responsibility and are touchy and defensive. They are easily offended by small things.

As a young man I was called as a ward missionary and enjoyed proselyting with the missionaries. I also watched as some of the young men in our ward went on missions. When they returned, they were different. They were more learned and mature, both physically and spiritually. My older brother also served a mission. When he returned, I saw many improvements in his behavior. I kept asking myself, “What is it about a mission that makes all these people change and grow so much?” I became enthusiastic about going on a mission.

(12) After her husband is paralyzed, Drusilla Hendricks provides for her family.

… When I was called to the Relief Society General Presidency, President [Gordon B.] Hinckley counseled me: “You bring a peculiar quality to this presidency. You will be recognized as one who represents those beyond the borders of the United States and Canada. … They will see in you a representation of their oneness with the Church.” He gave me a blessing that my tongue might be loosed as I spoke to the people.4

In those days of struggle for the Church in England, the missionaries took part in organized sports and choral singing, trying to create a new Church image. Elder Ashton decided to give both a try. “I don’t know how well I did in the ‘Millennial Chorus’ audition,” he chuckles. “They didn’t ask me to be the chorus.” But he was more successful in basketball. In fact, he was captain of the missionary team, the “Saints,” which won a grand national championship in Britain and an all-Europe championship at Lille, France.

On the day of my baptism, I felt clean, pure, and truly perfect. I loved the feeling so much that I made a goal to stay perfect forever. I will never sin again, I told myself.
Fast-forward one day.
I wanted to play with my big sister’s new Barbie doll, but she wouldn’t let me, no matter how hard I tried to convince her. So, in a rage that made me forget my goal to remain sin-free, I grabbed a pair of scissors while she wasn’t looking and cut off all her doll’s hair.
Admittedly, I was somehow under the impression that the doll’s hair would grow back. But as I sat looking at all the synthetic hairs piled in my lap, I felt the sting of having ruined my newly perfected life.
When my sister found out, she was furious. My parents explained to me that the doll’s hair would not grow back. Guilt and regret overwhelmed me as I watched my sister cry at the sight of her forever-bald doll.
With a little time and a lot of apologizing on my part, my sister forgave me. But I still never forgot how disappointed I felt for having given up my perfect life all too quickly.
As painful as it was as an eight-year-old to realize I made a mistake the day after my baptism, Heavenly Father provided a way for me to repent. Through the Savior’s perfect example and sacrifice, we can overcome our sins and make good choices that bring us blessings.

In October of 1959, President David O. McKay called him to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. He served as acting president of the Quorum of the Twelve from November 10, 1985 to June 2, 1988, when he was called as president of the Quorum of the Twelve. During his later years in the quorum, President Hunter overcame several serious difficulties with his health. After losing his first wife to illness in 1983, President Hunter married Inis S. Egan in April 1990.

I am acquainted with a man who rebelled from the Church when he was a youth. He made some mistakes during this time and developed some habits. Eventually, however, he came to himself; he served a mission and returned home to hold many responsible positions in the Church. But he was never quite happy. He could have said as did Nephi:
“I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.
“And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins.” (2 Ne. 4:18–19.)
Finally, in a night of spiritual turmoil, the man confessed to himself that he had never fully forsaken his sins. Although he had not committed sins worthy of Church court action, he still harbored attitudes and thoughts that robbed him of spirituality, and he went through cycles of guilt and despair that dampened his happiness. He made up his mind to change, and he kept his resolve. He broke the chain of sin and despair and, for the first time in memory, began to experience a real, true happiness. If someone had asked him, “Are we having fun, experiencing happiness, yet?” he could have answered, “Yes, more happiness, or joy, than I could have imagined.”

Our cleanup person at school wanted to give us a treat for being nice. She put little bags of candies in our mailboxes (where we put our things to take home). Our teacher, Mrs. Richardson, showed us how to reach all the way to the back to make sure that we have all of our papers and things.
When Emily reached all the way back, she couldn’t find any candy, and she was sad. She told everyone that she didn’t have any candy, but no one else shared. I said, “I’ll give you my candy.”
She said, “Thank you.”
I felt good inside because I did the right thing. Mrs. Richardson told my mom what I did, because she thought it was really nice. My mom was very happy to know that I am trying to be like Jesus at school.

Back east, temperatures were low but spirits were high for the celebration. Young Women in the Washington, D.C., area gathered at the Netherlands Carillon, and as the city bells peeled “Come Hold Your Torches High,” the girls shivered. But not from the cold. It will be hard for them to hear those bells without thinking of the commitments they made that day.

Several years ago, I met a friend for lunch. We hadn’t seen each other for many years. During my high school and early college days, he had been one of my closest friends. He was one of the strongest and most committed young men I knew.
We attended seminary together, played sports together, attended the university together, prepared for missions together, and left for missions a few months apart. After our missions, he married a talented and wonderful woman from my stake.
As the years passed, our lives took different courses. We moved to different cities and eventually lost touch with one another. I still remember how stunned I was to hear that he and his wife had left the Church. Of all those I knew in my youth, he was the last one I would ever have thought would leave the Church.
At lunch we reminisced over the friendship that had meant so much to both of us. We laughed again at some of the crazy experiences of our earlier days. We talked about our families and tried to close the gap of time.
Finally, I asked the obvious question: “Tim, what happened? You were so deeply converted and committed! Why did you leave the Church? What caused you to walk away from your temple covenants? Have you also left the Savior? We promised one another that we would be true and faithful to the end of our lives!”
“Kevin,” he replied, “I simply see things differently now. My view of the Church and its teachings has changed. I don’t hate the Church—I just don’t need it anymore.”
As we concluded our visit, I expressed my love and gratitude for a friendship I still value. Then, with deep feeling, I expressed my testimony: “Tim, I know these things are true. And you know they’re true too. You have always known. You’ve simply lost the clarity you once had. But you can regain the light and understanding of the Holy Ghost you once had. Please come back.”
We embraced as we said goodbye, and he whispered, “I admire your conviction and passion. But how can you be so sure?”
As I walked away, I reflected deeply on the choices we had made and on their impact on our lives and on the lives of our children and grandchildren.

Currently, my favorite family home evenings are those Monday nights when I shut my door to the world and have my own private time. There is a difference between this activity and just another night at home. It doesn’t seem to matter exactly which worthwhile activity I choose during this time, but an opening prayer is critical. Somehow, the spirit present is different then. I may spend time researching a question in the scriptures or reading about it from books in my personal library. Or I may pursue a cultural activity. What a blessing these evenings can be! Often, the knowledge gained improves the decisions I make.

Under the Same Stars Joseph Williams is just nine when his family arrives by steamboat at Jackson County, Missouri, in Under the Same Stars. Later, when they are driven by mobs into Clay County, he saves his older brother’s life. In As Wide as the River, Joseph works on a riverboat before going back to help his family as they are driven into Caldwell County. Before they are driven across the river into Illinois, Joseph will have served many dangerous missions for the Brethren. In Facing the Enemy, seventeen-year-old Joseph learns who the real enemy is.Dean Hughes11 years and up

Lilia, the mother, was baptized in the United States while she was visiting on a grant from the U.S. government, making her the first Moldovan baptized. That was in May 1997.
At first the only Church members in Moldova were three Latter-day Saint Americans: John Nielson and Paul and Betty Morris. They met in the Morrises’ home for sacrament meeting. Two elders from the România Bucharest Mission were sent to Moldova, and then the sheep began to recognize the voice of the Shepherd. Lilia and her mother began attending meetings after Lilia’s mother returned from the United States.

Kelly stepped back from the easel. Something was not quite right about that lower limb of the tree—there! A tiny swirl of brown paint added the knot that had been missing from her painting. Now it was perfect.
“Kelly!” her mother’s voice came through the screen door. “You were supposed to watch Steve while I was at the grocery store. Instead you are painting again. Do you have any idea where your little brother is?”
“He’s probably around at the side of the house,” Kelly answered, putting down her paint box. “I’ll go get him.” She couldn’t understand why her mother worried so. Steve was a handful, but even Mom didn’t watch him every minute. What’s wrong with painting a picture and watching Steve at the same time? she wondered. I only have two more days before the school art contest.
“I’m going to China!” Steve announced proudly from where he was digging.
Kelly groaned. “Oh, no! Did you have to start your trip by going through Mom’s flower bed?”
The smile faded from her little brother’s face. He didn’t know what he had done wrong but he could see Kelly was unhappy with him. “I’ll buy you a present when I get there,” he promised. “I have lots of money.” He put a muddy hand into his pocket and pulled out a nickel and a penny.
Kelly had to smile in spite of the fact that she knew her mother would scold her about the flower bed. “That’s nice, honey, thank you,” she said. “But what will Mom say?”
“I’ll buy her a present, too,” Steve said with a bright smile.
“Do you think any present you could buy would be as nice as the flowers you spoiled when you dug that hole?” Kelly asked.
Steve’s mouth dropped open with surprise. Then he looked down at the ruined flower bed. “They’re not all dead are they?” his eyes and voice pleaded. Tears hung from his lower lashes.
“Well, maybe not. Maybe we can save some of them,” Kelly answered. She picked up the spoon Steve had been using as a shovel and started scooping dirt back into the hole. She picked up the wilted flowers and gently shook the dirt from them. Some of the plants were broken or missing roots but Kelly replanted them all, hoping that at least a few would take hold and start growing again.
“That should do it,” she said as Steve flattened a lump of dirt.
“Maybe the flowers would like a drink of water,” he suggested.
“Oh no!” said Kelly. “They don’t need a drink right now. Let’s go get you cleaned up for supper.”
It was a quiet meal except for Steve’s excited chatter. Mom was still upset because Kelly had been painting instead of watching Steve. Dad was tired because he had worked hard at the welfare farm since six o’clock that morning. Kelly was wrapped up in her own thoughts about the school art contest. I hope I’ll win the prize. It would be great to have a complete set of oil paints, she thought.
“Is that party at the ward tonight?” Dad asked Mom.
“Yes, it starts at eight o’clock,” Mom answered, “and I’ve asked Kelly to watch Steve.”
Kelly felt her mother’s eyes on her. “I’ll take good care of him,” she promised. “I’ll read to him from his storybooks.” Then turning to her little brother, she asked, “Would you like that, Steve?”
Her brother’s head bobbed up and down. He gulped the last of his milk and climbed down from his chair. He raced from the room and came back holding a tattered book. When Mom and Dad left later that evening Kelly and Steve were sitting on the sofa. Their heads were close together so that Steve could “read” the pictures in his book while Kelly read the words.
Later, Kelly closed the book and her little brother sat back with a happy sigh.
“That was a good story,” he said and pleaded, “ ’Nother one?”
Kelly looked up at the clock and saw that it was eight thirty. “Well, just one more, if it’s a short one,” she answered.
Steve ran to his room for another book. While waiting for him to return, Kelly remembered her painting was still outside where she had left it that afternoon. Funny, she thought, bringing it into the kitchen, in this light the green on that side of the tree doesn’t look dark enough. The sun must have been in my eyes.
Kelly rinsed her brush and began to touch up the green of the leaves. She became absorbed in her work, until the sound of their old chiming clock caused her to look up. “Is it nine o’clock already?” she gasped. “Steve went to his room half an hour ago to get another book!”
Kelly hurried to Steve’s room but there was no sign of her brother. She checked all through the house, but he was nowhere in sight.
An icy feeling crept over Kelly. He must have gone outside, she thought. But where would he go? “Mom isn’t going to care about my winning the prize if I let anything happen to Steve,” she muttered to herself, “and I wouldn’t care very much about it either.”
Kelly skidded to a stop. I’ll bet he’s back in that flower bed, she decided. Steve was afraid the flowers would be thirsty.
She found her brother in the flower garden. Dad’s flashlight was lying on the ground and Steve had a cup in his hands. He was giving water to the drooping plants. The dirt in the flower bed was soaking wet and Steve had mud up to his knees. But Kelly didn’t care about that when she picked him up and hugged him.
“I ought to spank you,” she scolded. “And Mom ought to spank me. But oh, I’m glad you’re all right!”
Steve squirmed to get out of her arms. “I was just giving the flowers a drink. Let me down, please. They’re still thirsty.”
“No, they’re not thirsty anymore,” Kelly said. “They’re tired, just like you. Let’s go inside so the flowers can sleep. And I can give you a bath.”
They went to the back door so they could wipe their muddy feet on the porch mat before going inside. On the way through the kitchen Steve stopped to look at Kelly’s painting.
“That’s the tree in our backyard!” he shouted with surprise. “It’s beautiful!”
Kelly was pleased. “Do you really like it?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” Steve answered. “I wish it was mine.”
There will be other art contests, Kelly thought, and I can always paint another picture. But I’ll never have a sweeter brother than Steve.
“Tell you what,” she said. “You take a bath and let me tuck you into bed and I’ll give you this picture.”
“To keep?” asked Steve.
“To keep,” Kelly answered with a loving smile.

William Tyndale, born about 1494, came upon the scene during Martin Luther’s courageous work on the German translation of the Bible.12 While still a young man, Tyndale conceived the idea of making a new and better English version of the Bible based on the original languages of Hebrew and Greek.

About 1523 he sought help and encouragement from the Catholic bishop of London to produce such a version but was vigorously rebuffed. Because a prohibition against translating the Bible had been passed by the convocation of Oxford in 1408, Tyndale needed official permission to proceed without interference.

Dedicated to the task of translating the Bible into English, Tyndale secretly began his work and finished translating the New Testament in 1525. Printed in Cologne, Germany, Tyndale’s translation was smuggled into England, where it was being sold in early 1526.

Eventually, Tyndale, like many other men and women who were put to death for wanting the common people to have access to the scriptures in their own language, was strangled while tied to the stake in early October 1536.13 Nevertheless, his English translation lived on as his words and phrases and entire sections of his translation were incorporated into the King James Version.14