Gospel Story Finder

Time for scripture study requires a schedule that will be honored. Otherwise, blessings that matter most will be at the mercy of things that matter least. Time for family scripture study may be difficult to establish. Years ago when our children were at home, they attended different grades in several schools. Their daddy had to be at the hospital no later than 7:00 in the morning. In family council we determined that our best time for scripture study was 6:00 A.M. At that hour our little ones were very sleepy but supportive. Occasionally we had to awaken one when a turn came to read. I would be less than honest with you if I conveyed the impression that our family scripture time was a howling success. Occasionally it was more howling than successful. But we did not give up.
Now, a generation later, our children are all married with families of their own. Sister Nelson and I have watched them enjoy family scripture study in their own homes. Their efforts are much more successful than were ours. We shudder to think what might have happened if we had quit trying.

The youth and adults of the Farmington Utah Stake presented an original musical production about the exasperation leading to the organization of the Primary. Entitled “Oh, Those Boys!”, the musical showed boys killing bats during Sunday School in the attic of the Church. A chorus of young girls sang the pleasures and responsibilities of being “at the end of the row.” (In early Primaries, older, well-behaved children were placed at the end of the row to set an example and control the other children.)

“Oh, Those Boys!” played two nights, and most of the audience went away informed, entertained, and amazed at the job the young people had done.

Before the prayer was offered, Sister Yvonne Nelson, a pioneer member of the Church in Barbados, spoke briefly about her encounter with missionaries in 1979 and her journey of testimony and baptism. Sister Nelson said she was first contacted by missionaries in 1979.
“They started to give me some lessons,” she said. “They gave me a Book of Mormon and told me I should read, but before I read, I should pray and ask Heavenly Father if it was true.”
Active in her own Christian faith, Sister Nelson would attend LDS services after attending her own church. Over time, she said she gained gospel knowledge about the premortal existence, the purpose of mortality, and life after death.
“What I didn’t understand, the missionaries would make clear to me,” she said.
She was baptized on February 3, 1980.
Joining the Church was “the best decision I ever made,” she said. “It helped me to get closer to Heavenly Father.”
She added, “Living a righteous life is not easy. There are ups and downs and temptations, but with Heavenly Father’s help, we can overcome them. We have to keep our covenants and do everything possible to do what Heavenly Father would want us to do. Sometimes we might not want to forgive our enemies, but we have to try to love everyone.”

Last fall I watched the example of a 10-year-old boy in Armenia. As we waited for sacrament meeting to begin, he noticed the oldest member of the branch arrive. He was the one who quickly went to her side, offering his arm to steady her faltering steps. He assisted her to the front row of the chapel, where she could hear. Could his small act of kindness teach us that those who are greatest in the Lord’s kingdom are those who look for opportunities to serve others?

The Prophet was true to himself not only in his youth but throughout his life. Eighteen years after the First Vision, the Prophet and others had been “penned up in a cold, open, unfinished court house” for several weeks.
“In one of those tedious nights [writes Parley P. Pratt] we had lain as if in sleep till the hour of midnight had passed, and our ears and hearts had been pained, while we had listened for hours to the obscene jests, the horrid oaths, the dreadful blasphemies and filthy language of our guards. …
“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’
“He ceased to speak. He stood erect in terrible majesty. Chained, and without a weapon; calm, unruffled and dignified as an angel, he looked upon the quailing guards, whose weapons were lowered or dropped to the ground; whose knees smote together, and who, shrinking into a corner, or crouching at his feet, begged his pardon, and remained quiet till a change of guards.
“I have seen the ministers of justice,” continued Parley, “clothed in magisterial robes, and criminals arraigned before them, while life was suspended on a breath, in the Courts of England; I have witnessed a Congress in solemn session to give laws to nations; I have tried to conceive of kings, of royal courts, of thrones and crowns; and of emperors assembled to decide the fate of kingdoms; but dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, pp. 209–211. Italics added.)
Certainly, the Prophet here demonstrated both great moral and physical courage.
His being true to himself and his Maker eventually cost him his life. It also assured him of eternal life and exaltation.

“I don’t want to take piano lessons anymore,” I told my mother. I had been taking lessons for several years and was tired of all the practicing. I was ready to quit. I wasn’t very good anyway. Because I suffer from moderate hearing loss and wear hearing aids, I have never considered myself a person with musical talent. It always took a lot of practice to learn the tune of a song.
My mother didn’t say much but simply told me that I should keep taking lessons until I could play the hymns. After much complaining on my part and much encouragement from my parents, I decided not to quit.
Fast forward several years and thousands of miles to a chapel in the mountains of central Guatemala. As a missionary, I was attending a district conference. I had arrived early and found a piano there, so I sat down and started playing hymns. Most of the wards and branches had small electric keyboards that were hard to play, so I was very excited to play a real piano. I ended up being asked to accompany the congregation for the conference.
What changed my attitude between my younger years and my time as a missionary? I felt the power of the Spirit through music.
While serving a mission, I had many opportunities to use the musical skills that I had learned. I relished the many opportunities to sing and play the piano and played nearly every week in sacrament meeting. I will always remember listening to those faithful Guatemalan members singing the hymns. I taught members new hymns that they weren’t familiar with. I taught some basic piano lessons. My companions and I would sing to the people we were teaching. Even if we sang off-key, the Spirit was always there to touch the hearts of the people.
I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what your talents are; you can still learn to develop musical abilities. I’ll never be a world-class pianist, and many of the members in Guatemala will never be in the Tabernacle Choir. But it didn’t matter. We could still enjoy feeling the Spirit through music. I’m so grateful that my parents encouraged me to keep taking piano lessons, and I’m grateful that I kept practicing.

I read with interest your June article “There’s a Lot of Dough in This Business.” I initiated a similar venture in our former location in California. In fact, my “bread route” even became a valuable missionary tool. At Christmastime I gave my nonmember customers copies of the Book of Mormon. My business came to an abrupt end, however, when I was notified by state officials that it was illegal. I have since checked with the states of California and Utah, and here are the facts for those two states:
1. According to federal, state, county, and city statutes, it is a violation of both business and health codes to sell products that have been baked in a private residence.
2. Church or community groups who sponsor occasional bazaars or bake sales are exempt.
3. An individual may engage in a food business from his home if—
His kitchen facility is separate from his personal kitchen and is inspected and approved by the State Health Department.
He has obtained a business license (the legal requirements can be obtained from the State Board of Equalization).
Perhaps this home-baking arrangement is not illegal in Michigan, but most states prohibit it. Although my bread selling was certainly successful, it was nonetheless in violation of the law. I would encourage anyone interested in such projects to check with local authorities first to save embarrassment and possible legal penalties.
Nancy T. WudelOrem, Utah

Janie was tired of winter. It was too snowy and icy for her to play outside, so she looked out the window and wished.
She wished the snow would melt away.
She wished the world would be green with springtime again.
Janie told Father about her wish. He just smiled and said, “If you’re anxious for spring, we can make it come early in a corner of your room.”
Father helped Janie find a tall can. Together they found a spot of ground near the house that was covered with only a little snow. Janie cleared away the snow and dug enough soil to fill the can.
Mother found some beans in a bag in the cupboard. Janie planted the beans in the can and watered them. Then she placed the can in a corner of her room near the window.
Every day she watched the can. Finally the soil burst open! Bright green shoots pushed their way up through the soil. Just like magic, Janie had springtime in the corner of her room.
It was so much fun that Janie asked Mother to save another can for her. This time she planted kernels of wheat. In only a few days Janie could see little spiky green hairs sprouting up in the can. Janie laughed at such a funny sight.
Next she put pieces of carrot tops in a shallow bowl and filled it with water. In a few days the carrots had sprouts that looked like dainty feathery ferns.
Now that she had started, Janie couldn’t stop. Mother gave her a sweet potato and showed her how to put a toothpick in each side of it. Then they filled a quart bottle with water and placed the bottom part of the sweet potato down into the water. The toothpicks kept the rest of it outside of the bottle. Before long the sweet potato began to grow. Quickly it became the prettiest plant in all of Janie’s garden.
Janie was so busy tending the garden in the corner of her room that she had no time to worry about winter. In fact, she was so busy that she almost forgot to notice when it left.
Janie was happy when springtime finally arrived. But she was even happier because she had learned that she could have springtime all year round.

I just started receiving the New Era in November 1990 and I love it. My favorite was the November Q&A on young men going on missions.
One morning during a sacrament meeting, the speakers were talking about missionary work. They were encouraging all the young men to go. I was watching the interpreter translating the speaker’s words into sign language and I started thinking about my own plans.
My heart swelled with hope and a desire to serve a mission. So I went to talk to my bishop and he encouraged me to go. I finally prayed and decided to go when I turn 19.
Michael RobbKalama, Washington

President David O. McKay tells of a singular event that happened to him. After falling asleep, he said he “beheld in vision something infinitely sublime.” He saw a beautiful city, a great concourse of people dressed in white, and the Savior.
“The city, I understood, was his. It was the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness.
“But who were they?
“As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to a semicircle that then appeared above them, and on which were written in gold the words:
“These Are They Who Have Overcome the World—Who Have Truly Been Born Again!
“When I awoke, it was breaking day.” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, comp. Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1976, pp. 59–60.)

About halfway through my third year at college, I realized that the money I had saved to pay for rent and utilities would not be sufficient to get me through the summer. It was that time of year when I could work to pay for the next semester. I found a part-time job as a shop assistant.
All went well until my work schedule changed to include Sundays. During the job interview, I hadn’t said anything about not working on Sundays because at the time the store was closed that day. Nevertheless, the job was important to me, and I liked what I was doing. I worked with a friend, and between us we could be free on two Sundays and work the other two. This let me attend some Church meetings and attend to my calling.
However, soon I found that I could not keep up with this schedule. I actually had a feeling that I wasn’t able to fulfill my Sunday responsibilities even if I didn’t work every Sunday. I started asking myself what I could do to change this situation. After I had prayed to ask for a way to soften the heart of my supervisors, I read 1 Nephi 7. I remembered reading verse 19, where, after Nephi had prayed, the hearts of his brethren were softened. Finally, I was able to speak to my employers about not working on Sundays.
I told my superiors that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and they asked me about what Latter-day Saints believed. When I asked them if I could have Sundays off, the response was no. They pointed out that during my first interview, I had said I was available to work any day of the week and had never mentioned any religious needs.
The months passed without any change until one Sunday I rushed out of Church meetings to hurry to work. I asked myself, “What is most important to you?” The response was immediate and impossible to miss: the Church, the gospel, service in my calling, participation with all my heart in Sunday meetings, and discipleship in word and deed.
I decided that I would ask again not to work on Sundays, but this time I would do it with a letter of resignation in my hands, in case they told me no a second time.
I had prayed, fasted, and received supportive text messages from friends.
At the moment of my interview, even though my heart was fluttering, I was calm because I knew I was doing the right thing. This time my supervisor said yes. My prayer had been answered. I tore up my resignation letter as soon as I got home.
I received many blessings from this experience, but the most immediate and tangible blessing was that I was able to keep my job and still keep the Sabbath day holy. For that I am truly grateful to the Lord.

A few years ago, my family moved back to the United States. We were excited to attend church here after 26 amazing years in smaller, more isolated units. I was called as a ward missionary. We had a great ward mission leader and were doing exciting things and teaching wonderful people. I asked to attend a ward council meeting to observe and to get their help with the friends we were working with. I was surprised when all that was discussed was an upcoming ward activity. I approached the ward mission leader afterward and opined that he didn’t get the chance to return and report on our people. His response? “Oh, I never get to report.”
I contrasted that with a branch council meeting in Lahore, Pakistan, that I had attended just weeks before. This little group sat around a small table together, and all they talked about were people. Names. Each leader reported on their stewardship and the individuals and families that they were concerned about. All had the chance to add their thoughts on the best ways that they could bless those being discussed. Plans were made and assignments given. What a brilliant lesson in counting and accounting by name from our first-generation brothers and sisters.
In the Church of Jesus Christ, we have been instructed by prophets past and prophets present—and by the pattern set by our Savior—how to minister. We take names, we remember, and we counsel over the welfare of souls. Leaders who do this will never run out of agenda items in their council meetings! The principle of counting and accounting works. It is the Lord’s way. We can do better. To God, who created the universe and rules over all, this work—His work and glory—is very personal. And so it should be for each of us, as instruments in His hands in His amazing work of salvation and exaltation. Miracles in the lives of real people will result. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Visiting teaching is also a very effective tool in retention and reactivation efforts. A young single adult sister shared the following:
“While reading the First Presidency Message from the Ensign, I was reminded of my visiting teaching assignment. My companion was a good friend of mine, but we always seemed to have conflicting schedules. That morning I decided to just make the calls to our sisters, schedule a time, and hope that it would work with my companion’s schedule. Unfortunately, my companion was unable to make it. I asked a couple of my roommates to join me for those visits, but no one was available. Knowing that doing my visiting teaching alone wasn’t ideal, I thought about calling to cancel but decided it was better to make visits by myself than let another month slip by without visiting our sisters.
“I arrived at Alejandra’s home and nervously approached her door, not knowing if I would recognize her. She had been very friendly on the phone, so I imagined it was a sister I had seen at church. Alejandra greeted me with a warm hug and a big smile. It was a new face! During our conversation, Alejandra shared her desire to start going to church again and said she had been hoping for some kind of visit for the past few months. She stated that this was the first time she had ever received a visiting teacher. We talked about some gospel principles and shared our impressions of that month’s Visiting Teaching Message. She committed to going to church that week. Sure enough, she did (she even brought her boyfriend)!
“Since then, Alejandra and I have become good friends. I am no longer her visiting teacher, but we visit much more than once a month. Alejandra attends church and family home evening regularly and is attending institute.
“I now have a stronger testimony of visiting teaching than ever before. I am grateful for the guidance of the Holy Ghost and His subtle prompting that would lead me to such a kind and loving friend like Alejandra. We were equally strengthened from this experience, and we both needed it for our spiritual progression.”

The bishop of a twelve-year-old confined to a wheel chair came to the boy’s home with a measuring tape. Since the young man was not able to walk or carry anything, this sensitive priesthood leader measured his wheelchair and made a wooden shelf that could hold a sacrament tray. Now ward members witness a beautiful example of charity in action each week as other priesthood holders take turns pushing his wheelchair so he can pass the sacred emblems to the congregation.

My initial feeling of peace stayed with me for another week and a half. I was sitting in a wheelchair watching fireworks through the hospital window on the Fourth of July when it hit me—my mom was gone. She wouldn’t be at my high school graduation. She wouldn’t be there when I received my endowment in the temple. She wouldn’t be at my wedding. She was gone.
That’s when things started getting really hard. The pain in my leg was terrible, and I had no appetite. I watched TV without seeing it, and I mostly just slept. My family worried about me because I wasn’t crying very much.
The tears came a lot more when we finally went home to Oregon to an empty house. I suddenly had to take over some of my mom’s responsibilities, and my siblings often looked to me for comfort. I tried to be strong for them. But it wasn’t easy.
Going back to school was tough. Everyone had heard about the accident, and if they hadn’t, they heard about it when my teachers introduced me as the girl who was in the accident. I felt isolated.
It was especially hard when my dad remarried nine months after my mom died. I knew that my stepmom would be good for our family and that we needed her, but it was hard to adjust.
Not everything was dark during this time though. I felt a lot of love from my Father in Heaven, my family, and my Church leaders. What helped me heal and move forward after the accident was doing simple things that strengthened my faith. Every day I spent an hour before going to bed reading the scriptures, praying, and writing in my journal in my closet. In the privacy of my closet, I didn’t have to be strong for my siblings. I could cry as much as I needed and pour out my heart to God. I told Him exactly what I was feeling and how much I missed my mom. I know He heard me because of the many tender mercies I felt. That closet space became sacred to me.
Doing those simple things helped me stay connected to God instead of pushing Him away and becoming bitter. I didn’t see the accident as God hurting my family. I felt more power to be patient and submit to His will and keep moving forward through my hard days. And there were some really hard days.

We had completed the assignment given us by President David O. McKay to check on a site claimed to be that of the ancient city of Zarahemla.
We had located the suggested site by following the description given in a document that President McKay sent with us. All four of us agreed that this particular site was altogether too small to support a city as large as Zarahemla. Furthermore, Zarahemla had fields where crops were grown, as well as pasture lands on either side of the city for the Nephite’s flocks. According to the description given in the Book of Mormon, Zarahemla seemed to have been the largest Nephite city in ancient America.
After our return to the hotel, I became quite ill during the night. The next morning my traveling companions came to my bedroom to see why I had not come to breakfast. I told them I was too ill to get out of bed. They said that they would eat breakfast and then go down to the airstrip and look at the plane to see that everything was all right.
They soon returned and informed me that clouds had settled down on the airstrip and on Tuxtla so heavily that we would not be able to get out. We were fogged in, and they had been informed that the airstrip would probably be fogged in for a considerable time because the rainy season was beginning. They asked me what should be done.
After thinking for a few moments I was impressed by the Holy Spirit to say, “Give me a blessing and we will fly out today.” At first they replied, “President Hunter, you are too ill to fly.” But I insisted on being blessed. President Strong anointed and his son Bert sealed the anointing and gave me a blessing. I immediately got up out of bed, went in and ate breakfast, and felt completely healed.
We took our luggage and went down to the airstrip. Shortly after, the clouds lifted sufficiently for us to fly out. We heard later from the archaeological workman that several days passed before the fog and clouds lifted again. Therefore, that particular day was our time to fly out of Tuxtla.
On the way home President Strong said, “President Hunter, write an article for the Church magazines on this marvelous experience we have had. You were directed by the Holy Spirit as strongly as Wilford Woodruff was when he was told to get out of bed and move the wagon in the night. He followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit and moved the wagon just before a strong turbulence came along and pulled up the tree exactly where his wagon had been standing. He and his companion would have been killed if he hadn’t followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit. We have had a similar experience. By following the promptings of the Holy Spirit, our lives were saved.”
Youth of the Church, if you will try to keep all of God’s commandments, then through the promptings of the Holy Spirit you will be guided at critical times in your lives just as we were. Your lives may also be saved by the guidance of the Holy Spirit and by the power of the Lord.

While a stake president is normally found among the current leadership of the stake, there are exceptions. On one occasion we interviewed brethren into the late evening, unable to feel the confirming Spirit among the outstanding men we were meeting. Finally, after exhausting the prepared list of those to interview, we turned to respected men not currently serving in leadership positions. As we met with a Gospel Doctrine teacher at 10:00 p.m., the Lord powerfully confirmed this was His selection. Only after extending the call did we learn that he had been at his home, awaiting our phone call. Several months earlier, before any announcement of a change in the stake presidency, he and his wife were awakened in the night knowing that the calling would come to him.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Matt, I’ve asked you a thousand times to not play with my tools.
I didn’t Daddy.
My hammer’s gone and you’ve taken it before.
Not this time. I promise!
I’m sorry that you’ve chosen to lie to me, Matt. You’d better go to your room until you’re ready to tell the truth.
But, Daddy!
No “but, Daddies.” Go to your room!
Here’s your hammer back, dear. I just needed to hang a picture.
I’m sorry, Matt. I shouldn’t have accused you unless I was sure. Will you forgive me?
Sure. Can I play now?
I wish I were that good at forgiving.

For a number of years we have lived outside of the city. We have horses and other farm animals, including chickens. Some of the chickens are free to roam the barnyard. The children have to be alert to find where these chickens lay their eggs, for sometimes they are found in the haystack or in the woods or under the woodpile.
One spring a little speckled hen hid her nest under the manger in a small place where she could not be seen. None of us knew where she was, but we were sure that she must be sitting on a nest somewhere.
One day when I arrived home, the children came running to tell me that they had found the little hen and her nest. They had found the nest because the chicks had hatched and had begun to make little peeping noises.
They pulled me to the barn, and I carefully reached back under the hen and brought out a handful of little chicks. As the children gathered around, touching the soft little chicks, one of our daughters took a chick and held it carefully.
“That will certainly make a nice watchdog when it grows up, won’t it?” I asked. She looked at me like I didn’t know very much, telling her a chick would grow to be a dog.
I quickly corrected myself and said, “It won’t grow up to be a watchdog. It will be a nice riding horse, won’t it?”
She looked at me again with a puzzled expression, for even though she was only four years old, she knew that the little chicken would not grow up to be a dog or a horse or even a pheasant or turkey. Somehow she knew that the little chick would grow up to be either a hen or a rooster—much like its mother or father.

When it was announced in 2002 that missionary work would become the responsibility of the bishops, I marveled. I’d been one. It seemed to me they were already carrying a load close to their limits in ministering to the members and directing the organizations in the ward.

One bishop I knew saw it not as an added duty but as an opportunity to draw the ward together in a great cause where every member became a missionary. He called a ward mission leader. He met with the missionaries himself every Saturday to learn about their work, to encourage them, and to learn about the progress of their investigators. The ward council found ways for organizations and quorums to use service experiences as missionary preparation. And as a judge in Israel, he helped young people feel the blessings of the Atonement to keep them pure.

Recently I asked how he explained the surge of convert baptisms in his ward and the increase in the number of young people ready and eager to take the gospel of Jesus Christ out to the world. He said it seemed to him that it was not so much the duty anyone performed but the way they all became one in their enthusiasm to bring people into the community of Saints that had brought them such happiness.