Gospel Story Finder

Let me give you an example. A young married friend of mine lost his little daughter in a tragic accident. In the months that followed, with the loneliness, the asking “why,” and the sadness, doubt began to enter his life. He told me that he wasn’t sure what he believed anymore. I suggested to him that in this difficult time he might want to yield to his doubts a little less and trust the words of the Savior and the Savior’s chosen vessels a little more. My friend pored over the scriptures, the promises of the Savior, and the bold, reassuring witness of the living prophets. He held fast to their sure testimony of the Savior when his own seemed to falter. He held fast to the iron rod. With time, the darkness dissipated, the tree came back into view, and he partook of the precious fruit of the Atonement.

Satan first sought out Adam and Eve in the Garden; he has not rested one moment since. He was there to combat with exhibitions of evil sorcery the attempts of Moses to gain the freedom of the children of Israel. He was there to tempt Christ during his forty-day fast, trying to thwart the Atonement. “Worship me,” he cried to Jesus, after proffering all the kingdom of the earth (see Matthew 4:9). He was there in the woods were Joseph Smith sought the Lord in humble prayer, pressing down upon the young lad until he thought himself nearly destroyed. He haunted the early missionaries of this dispensation at almost every turn. Of those times, Heber C. Kimball recounts the following experience from his mission to the British Isles:

About daybreak, Elder Isaac Russell. . . , who slept with Elder Richards in Wilford Street, came up to the third story, where Elder Hyde and myself were sleeping, and called out, “Brother Kimball, I want you should get up and pray for me that I may be delivered from the evil spirits that are tormenting me to such a degree that I feel I cannot live long, unless I obtain relief.”
I had been sleeping on the back of the bed. I immediately arose, slipped off at the foot of the bed, and passed round to where he was. Elder Hyde threw his feet out, and sat up in the bed, and we laid hands on him, I being mouth, and prayed that the Lord would have mercy on him, and rebuked the devil.
While thus engaged, I was struck with great force by some invisible power, and fell senseless to the floor. The first thing I recollected was being supported by Elders Hyde and Richards, who were praying for me. . . .
Elders Hyde and Richards then assisted me to get on the bed, but my agony was so great I could not endure it, and I arose, bowed my knees and prayed. I then arose and sat up on the bed, when a vision was opened to our minds, and we could distinctly see the evil spirits, who foamed and gnashed their teeth at us. We gazed upon them about an hour and a half. . . . We were not looking towards the window, but towards the wall. Space appeared before us, and we saw the devils coming in legions, with their leaders, who came within a few feet of us. They came towards us like armies rushing to battle. They appeared to be men of full stature, possessing every form of feature of men in the flesh, who were angry and desperate; and I shall never forget the vindictive malignity depicted on their countenances as they looked me in the eye; and any attempt to paint the scene which then presented itself, or portray their malice and enmity, would be vain. I perspired exceedingly, my clothes becoming as wet as if I had been taken out of the river. I felt excessive pain, and was in the greatest distress for some time. I cannot even look back on the scene without feelings of horror; yet by it I learned the power of the adversary, his enmity against the servants of God, and got some understanding of the invisible world. We distinctly heard those spirits talk and express their wrath and hellish designs against us. However, the Lord delivered us from them and blessed us exceedingly that day. [Orson F. Whitney, Life of Heber C. Kimball (Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor Office, 1888), p. 143–145]

Now, the last thing I want to talk to you about: a broken bird.

Over the years, as a diversion, I have carved wooden birds. Sometimes it would take a year to complete one. I would get specimens and measure the feathers and study the colors and then carve them. I would carve a setting for them. It was very restful. Sometimes when I would get unsettled, my wife would say, “Why don’t you go carve a bird!” It was a very calming thing in my life.

Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I were going into town one day. I had one of the carvings. I was taking it in to show someone. We had put it on the backseat. At an intersection, he slammed on the brakes, and the carving tipped upside down on the floor and broke to pieces. He pulled over to the side and looked at it. He was devastated. I was not.

Without thinking, I said, “Forget it. I made it. I can fix it.” And I did. I made it stronger than it was. I improved it a bit.

Now, who made you? Who is your Creator? There is not anything about your life that gets bent or broken that He cannot fix and will fix. You have to decide. If some of you have made mistakes and you think you are broken and cannot be put together, you do not know the doctrine of the Church. You do not know what the Atonement was about and who the Lord is and what a power He is in your life.

I started to get the New Era as a gift from a dear friend, and I think it is great. My friend Becky started to visit me while I was in prison. She asked me if I would like to talk to the elders, and I agreed. I saw them for six months, and it really helped. I’m going to keep on subscribing to the New Era now because it is still helping me. Thanks to Elder Castleberry and Elder Muller, and a real big thanks to Becky Hartswick for two wonderful gifts, the Church and the New Era.
Jeffrey D. AumanLewistown, Pennsylvania

One afternoon, Ben’s mom said he had to clean up his room in the next 15 minutes if he wanted to play video games. Ben’s room was a big mess, with toys, clothes, and books all over the floor. Ben wanted to play video games, but he didn’t want to clean his room. “Please let my room be cleaned by magic,” he prayed. Fifteen minutes later when Mom came back to check, the room was still messy. Ben was not allowed to play video games. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?” he wondered for the third time.
One night Ben awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible earache. His ear hurt so much that he had to go to the hospital. On the way, he prayed, “Heavenly Father, my ear hurts worse than anything has ever hurt me before. I really need help. Please help the doctors find a way to make my ear feel better.” Ben remembered that Heavenly Father hadn’t always given him what he asked for, but he tried to have faith and believe that the pain would go away.
At the hospital, the doctor gave Ben some medicine. It tasted yucky, but Ben swallowed it, and on the way home his ear started feeling better. He knew that Heavenly Father had answered his prayer.
As Mom tucked him back into bed, Ben told her about the scuba diver, the broccoli, and the messy room. “Why does Heavenly Father answer some prayers and not others?” he asked.
“Heavenly Father always answers our prayers,” she said. “But sometimes the answer is no if we ask for things that would be bad for us. He wants us to learn here on earth. What did you learn at the swimming pool?”
Ben thought for a minute. “I learned that some things float and some don’t,” he said. “And that I have a nice brother who will help me.”
Mom nodded. “Then there’s the casserole. I’m sorry you think that broccoli is squishy, but it’s good for you. Why do you suppose Heavenly Father let you eat it?”
Ben sighed. “Because he wants me to be healthy and strong.”
“And finally the messy room,” Mom said. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father clean it for you?”
“I guess because it’s my job, and I need to learn to do it.” Ben sat quietly for a minute, thinking. “But when I asked Heavenly Father to help the doctors to make my ear feel better, the answer was yes,” he said.
Mom nodded. “Yes, it was. But did your ear stop hurting the instant you asked?”
Ben frowned. “No. Why not?”
“Heavenly Father wants us to do all we can to help solve our problems. What did we do?”
“We went to the doctor, and I took the medicine he gave me, even though it tasted yucky.”
Mom smiled. “Heavenly Father helped the doctor to give you good medicine, and He helped your ear to feel better.”
Ben rubbed his ear. “Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes it’s no.”
“And sometimes it’s ‘not yet,’” Mom added.
Ben hopped out of bed. “I’m going to thank Heavenly Father for helping the doctors to make my ear feel better,” he said. “And from now on, I’m going to try to ask for things that are good for me. Heavenly Father knows how to answer best.”
Mom gave him a hug. “I think that broccoli is making you smarter already!”

As a member of the teachers quorum, which has the responsibility to prepare the sacrament, Scott was faced with an unfortunate situation one Sunday: there weren’t enough sacrament cups for his large ward.
“I felt bad—feeling that we hadn’t fulfilled our duty,” Scott says. “We decided that the teachers had to be more organized, and now our quorum presidency meets the hour before sacrament meeting for our presidency meeting to make sure everything is in order for the sacrament and to prepare for the next few weeks. I like the order in the Church. When there is order, you don’t have to worry.”

As I poured the boiling water into the mush pot and stirred in the cracked wheat, I thought of other Thanksgivings. Last year when Grandma was taking flaky crusted pies out of the oven with a towel, her thumb accidentally touched the hot tin pan and she dropped a currant pie upside down on the kitchen floor. Steaming red juice trickled across the clean linoleum, and I thought it was a disaster until Grandma said, “You youngsters can have that pie.” She wasn’t one to waste anything. I remember my aunts saying that Grandma was so saving that if a mosquito lit in the molasses, she’d lick its legs before turning it loose. Maybe so, but no pie ever tasted so good as the one she dropped.

I recently had a conversation with a student who called the Student Honor Office to report a problem. This conversation was like many that come to our office during a semester. I listened to the report. The reporting student had had some problems with one of her roommates and felt disrespected. It was, in her mind, serious enough to involve the Student Honor Office. As I listened, I felt prompted to turn to Matthew and read to her the passage of scripture that I have just read. I asked if she would like to hear what the Savior had to say about her situation. She agreed, and we read together His counsel. I asked her how she felt. We both agreed that it looked great on paper but could be a little more difficult in reality. I asked her if she had, like His counsel instructed, ever prayed for her roommate. She said that she had not. I invited her to find a quiet place, to get on her knees, and to ask Heavenly Father if He would bless her roommate to be able to deal with the hardships in her life. I encouraged her to ask that her heart might be softened as she truly heeded His counsel. She accepted without reservation, and then our conversation ended. I'm not sure how the situation eventually worked out, but in the few minutes that I interacted with this sister, her demeanor changed. Initially, she was animated and agitated. When we were finished, her attitude was different. Although I'm sure our interaction turned out differently than she thought it would, she was calm and seemed eager to act on what we had explored together.

It was a unique service project for a unique Christmas season. Many families in the northern California bay area were still busy rebuilding their homes after last year’s tragic earthquake and hadn’t given Christmas decorations a thought. But the girls in the Hayward Fourth Ward, Hayward Stake, had. They decided to make Christmas decorations for earthquake victims in the surrounding areas.
The girls made napkin holders, Christmas tree decorations, and Christmas wall hangings. Each piece was one-of-a-kind, and the recipients were thrilled with them, since many of their own decorations had been destroyed by the quake. Their project spread the true Christmas spirit to both the givers and the receivers.

Today my cousin Janie moved to our neighborhood. She’s the daughter of Uncle Ben, who never had much to do with the rest of the family. She has red pigtails and buck teeth and wears glasses that look like the bottoms of pop bottles. I saw my friend Lola frowning at her during recess, and later Lola walked the long way around to avoid meeting her. That’s when I knew that I had a real problem.
You see, Lola is the most popular girl in my class. She has silky blond hair and blue eyes, and if you’re friends with her, everyone likes you and you get to go to her house and play with her dolls and eat chocolate ice-cream sundaes. I’ve been her friend now for two months. It’s been the best time of my life, and I don’t want it to end.
I avoided Janie the whole day, but when it was time to go home, she caught me as I was sneaking through the hedge behind the school building.
“Hi, Ginger,” she said.
“Hi,” I answered, peeking over my left shoulder. Lola was nowhere in sight.
“I haven’t seen you for a long time—not since we went ice-skating on the creek at Grandpa’s. Remember?”
I shrugged. “Sort of.”
“Do you think we could do that again?” Janie kicked at a rock with her toe.
I noticed that the ends of her shoes were scuffed and that there was a hole in one knee of her leotards. It made me wonder how I’d be dressed if I didn’t have a mom. “Maybe, sometime. I have to go home now,” I told her, then hurried away and left her standing behind the hedge with her hands clasped behind her back, looking at the ground.
Things went much better than I’d expected. I had been afraid that I’d have a terrible time getting rid of Janie and that she’d follow me around like a lost pup. She didn’t. She stayed away from me, and the only thing that I noticed was that every once in a while I would glance up and see her staring at me from behind those thick glasses. But she seemed fine, so I didn’t worry.
Then Sister Bates was sick one week and couldn’t teach our Primary class, and Brother Bates took over. He’s a stake missionary and always says things like “Feed my sheep” and “Love one another.” On this particular Sunday he told us a couple of stories and finished off by quoting what Jesus said in Matthew 25:40: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” I thought that that sounded all right, but it was ridiculous to think that it applied to me and Janie. After all, I was very kind to her—I didn’t tease her or pull her hair, like some of the other kids did.
But then things changed for the worse. On Saturday morning Uncle Ben called. He had to go to Edmonton for the day, and he wondered if Janie could stay with us. “Of course,” Mom said. “Bring her right over.”
Now, Saturday morning is when I always go over to Lola’s to play with her dolls. She has every kind that you can imagine. I used to count them, but I gave up long ago because she keeps getting more and some of them look so much alike that you can’t be sure if you’ve already counted them or not.
When I put my sweater on that morning and headed for the front door, Mom asked, “Aren’t you taking Janie?”
“I guess so,” I mumbled.
By the time we were halfway to Lola’s house, I had worked out a plan: I would leave Janie standing on the corner, go up the block to Lola’s house, tell her that I wasn’t feeling well, and ask if I could please come back and play another day. Then I would go back and get Janie and go home again.
We got to the corner. “Wait here a minute, Janie,” I said. She had on a brown dress and gray socks and those scuffed black shoes.
“Will you be long?” Janie asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
As she watched me walk away, my feet got heavier with every step I took. “This is dumb,” I said firmly to myself. “I’m not doing anything wrong.” But my knees started to hurt. Then a lump began to grow inside of me, and it worked its way up to my throat till I could hardly swallow. I stopped. “You’re being silly,” I muttered to myself. “If you keep this up, you’ll ruin everything.” Then I turned around and cupped my hands around my mouth and called to Janie.
Lola answered the door. She was wearing a pink silk dress with ruffles on the sleeves and the neck and a ribbon around the skirt. Her hair was done in French braids, not a strand out of place.
I looked Lola right in the eye. “This is my cousin Janie,” I said. “We’ve come to play.”

A young mother told me she would never forget the day her husband came home distraught over leaving his wallet in a telephone booth. Her first reaction was to criticize his irresponsibility at losing the family’s rent money. But as she glanced at his sad, pained face, she kept silent. The rent could be paid a few weeks late. The young mother said the look on her husband’s face—a look that clearly showed his relief at not being criticized—was well worth her silence. After all, she reasoned, what good would have been accomplished had she heaped criticism on her already upset husband?

Elder Neal A. Maxwell tells the following story:

Thomas B. Marsh, once president of the Twelve Apostles, was excommunicated, yet he returned. In 1857 he made his way to Salt Lake City, where he spoke in the Bowery and humbly asked for forgiveness. To the congregation he said: "I became jealous of the Prophet and then I saw double, and overlooked everything that was right and spent all my time looking for the evil; …I thought I saw a beam in brother Joseph's eye but it was nothing but a tiny mote and my own eye was filled with a beam."

Elder Maxwell goes on to say, "Those in communities of Saints will love but not follow the disappointed dissenter. Instead they will help each other to sustain and support the brethren" (If Thou Endure it Well p. 102).

It is 1869, and President Brigham Young is concerned about the young women in the Church. He is worried that some of them, including his own daughters, are too caught up in the fashions and trends of the world.
On 18 November 1869, he holds a meeting with his daughters. He asks them to set an example by spending more time learning about the gospel and gaining important life skills rather than chasing after trends.
“I desire [you] to retrench from [your] extravagance in dress, in eating, and even in speech,” President Young tells his daughters. “I should like you to get up your own fashions, and set the style for the rest of the world who desire sensible and comely fashions to follow. … There is a need for the young daughters of Israel to get a living testimony of the truth” (A Century of Sisterhood, 8).
At first this is difficult for his daughters. These girls are some of the most popular girls in the territory, and they enjoy stylish things. Now they can’t spend hours looking at clothing catalogs from back East. Instead they must sew their own simple and modest dresses, without any ruffles, that go all the way to the ground. They must spend less time socializing and more time studying the scriptures and learning the gospel.
But these girls know their father is a prophet, and they choose to follow him. They create the Young Ladies Department of the Cooperative Retrenchment Association and begin meeting often to support each other in their efforts.
It has been almost 50 years since Brigham Young first met with his daughters, and now girls throughout the world are following his counsel.

She was sure it was late fall of 1993. At least that’s what Amy Westerby thought when she left Provo one morning to travel to Antelope Island located in the middle of the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Somewhere along the way, she seemed to go back in time 600 years before Christ.
Amy had been selected to play the character Susan in the new seminary videos where truths from the Book of Mormon are played out in modern scenarios. This day she was there to participate in the opening shots of the video called I Will Prepare the Way, where her character walks along a long, white sand beach. She was also going to get the chance to see Nephi’s boat being built.
According to Amy it was amazing to see a huge wooden boat being constructed before her eyes. And the men playing Nephi and his brothers were so realistically dressed. It felt a little like a time machine. “It was great just to be there,” said Amy, “and watch the whole thing happen.”

“I’m tired of being a clown,” Till sighed one day. “I think I’ll leave the circus.”
So, still wearing his clown suit, he set out on his way through the German countryside. By the time the sun had set, Till was quite tired. He stopped in front of a little village bakery. Mmmm—the bread and rolls sure look good, the traveler thought. How I’d like to bite into one of those freshly baked rolls!
“I need a helper, friend,” said the baker, who suddenly appeared at the door to his shop. “Can you bake?”
“Bake, uh, why of course!” answered the clown with a smile. Now Till knew as much about baking as an elephant knows, but he was hungry and needed to earn some money.
“Fine, you’re hired,” the baker said, leading him inside. “Here’s your apron. Now let’s go to work.”
Till watched the baker carefully and did whatever his master showed him. This was fine for a while, but one morning the baker announced, “I’ve been invited to a wedding feast in a neighboring village, and I won’t be back until tomorrow. Tonight you’ll have to do all the baking yourself.”
Till was worried and thought, What can I do with no one here to show me? With a puzzled frown he turned to the baker and asked, “What shall I bake?”
“What should you bake? Ha-ha, what a joke! Bake owls and monkeys for all I care!” The master laughed, for he thought Till was just asking a silly question. Laughing uproariously, he repeated, “Bake owls and monkeys for all I care!” Then he left, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Owls and monkeys,” Till muttered. “Then owls and monkeys I shall bake.”
He mixed the dough just as his master always did. When it had raised to twice its size, he punched it down and broke off a piece about the size of a small ball. He squeezed and patted it until he had made a monkey figure with a long curling tail, and he used raisins for its eyes. He made tray after tray of monkeys until he had filled five trays.
With the remaining dough he shaped owls with round heads atop their small squat bodies. He gave them raisin eyes too. From ten o’clock at night until three o’clock in the morning he worked, baking nothing but owls and monkeys.
Early the next day the master baker returned, expecting to see the bread and rolls all finished. Instead he found the bakery full of owls and monkeys. “What is this—a zoo?” he shouted.
Till held up a final tray proudly. “See,” he said, “I baked owls and monkeys just as you suggested. Don’t they look real?”
“Out, out, you chowderhead!” cried the master. “But first you must pay me for the dough you’ve wasted.”
Till thought fast. “All right, I’ll pay, but only if you let me take the owls and monkeys with me.”
“Take them,” said the angry baker. “What do I want with such foolishness?”
Till paid the baker and gathered up all the owls and monkeys. He put them into a large sack and quickly left the bakery. Then he ran off to the marketplace in the center of town where people were beginning to arrive to do the day’s shopping. When they saw the funny clown with his baked animals, they were indeed amused.
“Owls and monkeys!” exclaimed one woman. “Look at these!”
People gathered to look and to buy, and soon everything was sold. Not one owl was left. Not one monkey remained. Someone had even bought the sack!
When the baker saw all the excitement, he rushed out of his shop. “I’ll get that rascal!” he cried. “I forgot to charge him for the wood he burned in the bake ovens. He owes me more money.”
The angry baker looked all around the marketplace, but Till had gone. All he saw was a crowd of happy people with their owls and monkeys.
And where was Till? Who can say!”

My last story comes from our missionary son, Elder Trevor Ram, who currently is serving in the India Bangalore Mission. I’ve changed the name of the investigator so as to protect his identity. I’ve replaced it with my husband’s name – Tulsi – instead. The story as told by Elder Ram:

“I have a great testimony of the Spirit’s power to bring peace to troubled hearts, even if the troubled one is me. Last night, we were teaching [Tulsi] and reviewing the baptismal interview questions with him. [Tulsi] is pretty much the man, so he came over to church on Sunday night in the pouring rain. Needless to say, he was drenched when he met us. Because he wanted to sit in the classroom without any fan or windows open, it became pretty stuffy and hot pretty quick in there. My stomach was upset and so that combined with the muggy atmosphere of the room made things pretty uncomfortable. Throughout the teaching, I was unable to follow much of what was going on because [Tulsi] speaks mostly in Tamil to Elder Raja which just added to the uncomfortable situation.

“Anyhow, the lesson went on and on and I just got more and more uncomfortable there. I was wondering when things were going to end but I could feel the Spirit withdrawing and that was not a good feeling, Silently, I prayed that I could just keep it together and get through the lesson.

“Just then, [Tulsi] asked a question. Elder Raja probably noticed my discomfort and translated the question so I could answer it. [Tulsi's] question was, approximately, if I make a mistake after three or four years of baptism, will I be able to come to Church? I bore my testimony of the Atonement and the Savior's willingness to forgive. As I did, I felt the Spirit come over me. I knew what I was saying was true and it made me feel good. The discomfort of the moment was pushed out and only the truth of the gospel really mattered right then. [Tulsi] seemed satisfied with the answer and within a few short minutes, we closed up and were on our way.

“This week, my testimony is that the Savior's teaching is true: those who seek to find themselves will lose themselves, but those who lose themselves in His service will find themselves happy and comforted and filled with goodwill. I had forgotten a bit that the thrill of doing missionary work doesn't come from seeing all the cool things India has to offer but from being blessed as I forget myself and serve as selflessly as possible. I'm grateful Heavenly Father took the time to reteach me that lesson again this week. He is unspeakably wonderful.”

As my wife mentioned in our introduction, after we were married, we moved to Provo to prepare for school and the football season. I enrolled in the 'Living Prophets' course. We committed to follow President Ezra Taft Benson’s counsel for mothers, like Julie, to stay home and nurture and raise our soon to be born 1st child, Mapuana. As I was on a football scholarship, I couldn’t work while in school.
Julia was offered a teaching position that was to pay more money than we’d ever had (mind you, Julie only made $9,000 the previous year as she was a full-time student) so anything more than that was a lot of money, to us. We did not accept the offer and trusted in the Lord so Julie could stay home with our Mapuana.
After making that decision, my dear maternal grandparents, Joseph Keaunui and Henrietta Bee Ah Quin of Hauula Hawaii...who we thought would never leave this rock or Hawaii, and who were not active members of the church, decided out-of-the-blue to sell their beautiful farm in Hauula to move to Utah. We were blessed to live with them and ohana until I graduated and returned home to Laie, therefore meeting our needs and desire for Julie to stay home with Mapuana.

President Monson was born on August 21, 1927, in Salt Lake City, Utah. Growing up, he liked to carve and race toy boats and go fishing with his dog, Duke. He raised pigeons, chickens, and rabbits. During the Great Depression, many people didn’t have much money. But the Monson family shared what they had. It was young Tommy’s job each Sunday to bring a plate of food to an elderly neighbor. He learned to always look out for those in need.

The name Ceská Trebová brought to my mind Sister Lukasova, the sole member of the Church in that town in earlier years. In 1948, she requested that missionaries come to her area. My companion and I tracted in Ceská Trebová for many weeks, and Sister Lukasova helped us arrange several informal gatherings. When the police disrupted one of our meetings and subjected us to intense questioning, the mission president called us back to Prague. Sister Lukasova’s contact with the Church was cut off.

When I was a young mother of several small children, at the end of days filled with diapering, dish washing, and disciplining, no one sang more emphatically the Primary song “I’m so glad when daddy comes home.” I’m sad to admit, however, I was not always cheerful when Craig seemed to bounce through the door after a hard day of work. He always greeted each of us with a hug and kiss and turned many difficult and sometimes disastrous days into delightful daddy times. I wish I had been a little less preoccupied with the endless list of to-dos still to be done and had more wisely focused, like he did, on things that mattered most. I would have stopped more often and enjoyed sacred family time and would have thanked him more often for blessing our lives!