Gospel Story Finder

Have you ever wondered about this mantle which comes upon a bishop? He can sit in a sacrament meeting and look out at his flock and know who is in trouble, look at his Aaronic Priesthood—the deacons, the teachers, and the priests—and know which ones need his counsel. There is a hopeless feeling when you are released as a bishop to become a General Authority, and then return to your home ward where you have been serving and realize you have lost the power of discernment with the ward members. You can’t do what you did as a bishop.

We think of the disciples waiting outside the Garden of Gethsemane and not having the discerning nature to know what the Savior was going through. And yet, the Savior himself embodied that characteristic which a bishop and all of us should have. He said, “What, could ye not watch with me one hour?” (Matt. 26:40.) They did not understand.

Sometimes, experience is the best teacher of discernment. We are reminded of President Harold B. Lee having to lose his sweet companion so that he might understand the agony and anguish of a single person who has lost his or her companion, turning his attention as a prophet to the singles of the Church. It is in moments like this that we learn.

I remember, too, my mother as she went through eight years of being paralyzed. The last year and a half she needed care around the clock, and my dear father cared for her. One night, a few weeks before she passed away, I knelt at her bed after a word of prayer and she said, “I would like to go to heaven to see Papa.”
I said, “Mother, why have you gone through this pain?”
She said, “To learn patience.”
“Mother, have you learned enough patience?”
Then, with a mother’s kind way of teaching, she looked at me and said, “I have, but have you?”
At such moments we begin to understand that the difficulties and problems of others, if we will feel them, will make us grow, if we will but lend a hand.

There are many priesthood leaders here from all over the world. These stake presidents, Regional Representatives, and General Authorities know the truth of the counsel once given us by one of the Presiding Bishops of this dispensation, Elder LeGrand Richards. After a weighty discussion in the temple with all the General Authorities, he said, “Now, Brethren, I understand all that we discussed, but until the bishops move, nothing will happen. Everything above the bishop is all talk.” He taught a great lesson.

Each priesthood leader who is here this day must go home and make sure the bishops understand the messages which we have heard, for it is in their interviews with the youth, it is in their interviews in calling the people to positions, it is in their compassion for the needy and the widows that the important spiritual things happen in the lives of the Saints. The bishop who utilizes the resources at his hands—the auxiliaries, the priesthood—to fulfill the needs of his people, is a true bishop, not one who follows slavishly a handbook to the detriment of his people.

Having said this, I would like to ask the youth and adults who are here, and all within the sound of my voice, that every night and morning you pray for your bishop. He needs your help. He cannot carry the responsibilities on his shoulders without your help and prayers.

The story is told of the young child who misbehaved in sacrament meeting. Father and Mother were embarrassed by his actions. Finally, Father was a little disturbed and took the child out. As he went down the aisle, he gave the child a little squeeze. The child knew he was in trouble. As the father turned to go out of the chapel, the child, now up over his father’s shoulder, said, “Bishop, help me!”

All members of the Church can turn to their bishops when they are in need of help and can feel secure in his love for them and can have confidence in following his counsel. Bishops learn not to judge people against a standard of perfection. A bishop learns that he will rejoice with those over whom he presides in any progress they make.

When I was single, I made friends with someone who decided to come back to church after many years of inactivity. She struggled with faith and testimony but continued to attend church and meet with our bishop regularly. Eventually she started dating a member of our singles ward but still struggled with her testimony. She wasn't sure what she really believed, and the lure of the world seemed much more attractive than being obedient to the teachings of Jesus Christ. In one fast and testimony meeting, she was sitting on the back row next to her boyfriend, and after several testimonies had been borne, she looked at him and said, "You don't really believe this, do you?" He looked back at her and with all seriousness said, "Yes, yes I do." His short but sincere testimony had affected her. She didn't expect an answer from him with such conviction, but when it came she felt the Spirit and realized she believed too. She took the steps necessary to prepare to enter the temple, and they were sealed in the San Diego Temple.

Her story taught me a beautiful lesson about testimony. When you bear honest, sincere testimony, the Spirit will witness the truth of it. Not only will your testimony grow, but the testimony of those around you will grow.

Many years ago I worked for one of our railroads. A switchman was aimlessly strolling about the platform one day. I asked him to move a car to another track. He exploded. He threw his cap on the pavement and jumped up and down on it, swearing like a drunken sailor. I stood there and laughed at his childish behavior. Noting my laughter, he began to laugh at his own foolishness. He then quietly climbed on the switch engine, drove it over to the empty car, and moved it to an empty track.

I thought of a verse from Ecclesiastes: “Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry: for anger resteth in the bosom of fools” (Ecclesiastes 7:9).

Prepare because opportunities and challenges arrive unexpectedly. Let me give you an example. I had been here in Hawaii for less than six months when Hema approached me and asked me to run for office with him. I told him no since I would be leaving for the summer. I asked for guidance from my family and friends and then when Hema approached me again, I agreed to run for office. So many people doubted us, but we were soon elected and are now where we stand today. This position has forced me to grow and understand so much more while taking on huge responsibilities and challenges. I am only twenty years old and I am here speaking to you and serving you. God works in mysterious and powerful ways. He believed in me when it seemed I could not believe in myself because he knew I can do so much. What I have sacrificed and what I have endured has made me a better and stronger person. I too struggle and do my best, but I fail at times because I am human. However, I am doing my best and I have seen the Lord pour out his blessings upon me because He knows I am trying.

A few years ago I drove to Temple Square in Salt Lake City to meet an acquaintance of the missionaries. Their guest did not keep the appointment. My response to the missionaries was, “The Lord will provide someone for us to teach.” In less than two to three minutes, two adult men walked through the front door of the North Visitors’ Center and directly up to us. They spoke Spanish, and we did not! We assured them the best we could that someone would be able to help them. In moments, the only Spanish-speaking sister missionaries in the entire mission arrived at the visitors’ center because they felt impressed to come there that morning!
Over a period of several weeks the missionary discussions were taught to those men, and they asked to be baptized. The Lord was true to His word. “An effectual door” was opened in the very moment it was needed for this beautiful experience.

After Elder Kimball had surgery on his vocal chords, he traveled with fellow Apostle Elder Harold B. Lee.
Elder Lee: I’d like to invite Elder Kimball to bear his testimony.
Elder Kimball: I’m too embarrassed to keep speaking. I rasp and make terrible noises. Maybe in our next meeting I shouldn’t speak.
Elder Lee: Spencer, your testimony needs to be heard. You better get your voice back.
Elder Kimball did all he could to regain his voice. He followed his doctor’s orders, received priesthood blessings, and took voice lessons.
Elder Kimball: Camilla, I realize I cannot quit for anything, though the temptation is terrific when I stumble and stammer and halt.
The true test came when Elder Kimball returned to his home—the Gila Valley in Arizona.
Elder Kimball: Forgive my voice. While in the East, I fell among cutthroats.
Woman: His voice is different, but he still has the same sense of humor!
President Spencer W. Kimball never stopped preaching. In fact, his soft, deep, mellow voice became something people loved about him.

On a memorable Christmas Eve in 1937, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, then a full-time missionary, and his companion walked from Salzburg, Austria, to the village of Oberndorf, nestled in the Bavarian Alps. While visiting the village known as the inspiration for the hymn “Silent Night,”1 they paused in a small church to listen to Christmas music sung by a choir.
“A crisp, clear winter night enveloped us as we began our return trip,” Elder Wirthlin recalled. “We walked under a canopy of stars and across the smooth stillness of new-fallen snow.”2
As they walked, the young missionaries shared their hopes, dreams, and goals for the future. In that heavenly setting, Elder Wirthlin renewed his commitment to serve the Lord: “I made up my mind that I would magnify any callings I received in the Lord’s kingdom.”3

The longer I stared at the phone, the more nervous I became. I kept going over and over in my mind what I would say. Then I worried that the girl I wanted to call might say no. Finally, I managed to punch in the phone number, hoping no one would answer. They didn’t. What a relief—except I had to start the whole process over again later!
On my second attempt, her mother answered and agreed to get her daughter. Now the sweat was really starting to build. I thought about hanging up, but then I was greeted by a friendly hello. I managed to stumble my way through asking her out. Instead of giving an immediate answer, she said she needed to check with her mom. To me that was code for, “Let me talk to my mom to see if she can help me get out of this one.” Instead she returned to the phone with a cheerful, “That would be great.” I tried not to act too surprised and ended the call. I sat in my chair emotionally drained yet feeling great. I did it; my first date was on its way!

A student wrote:
“In my own family I can remember times when my father spent long days at the office and helped very little with the children at home. He was under a lot of stress, and I don’t think he took his problems to the Lord like he should have. Rather, he spent more and more time trying to make money. It seemed as though he worshiped money, spending all his time and resources to get more.
“I don’t know exactly when things changed. But all of a sudden our family started to be together more. We prayed more as a family, and we were happier all around. It didn’t take long to realize that my father had turned to the Lord, and our family has been blessed ever since.”

Recently at a stake conference a young man was called to the pulpit with only a few moments’ notice. He said he had been away to school and had come home to find a very dear friend in trouble. She had become enmeshed in the drug scene and had been tragically hurt. The young man sought the Lord in prayer, crying out for strength to help his friend. “For the first time in my life I truly forgot myself,” he said. “While I prayed I came to a consciousness I had never before possessed. My concern for her was honest and intense and without self-reference, and I knew as I prayed that the love and concern of Almighty God for me and for my friend were pure and real and very personal.”

It started out with my sister reminding me how old I was by telling this little account. She said, “Remember when you returned home from your mission and you were invited to a post-mission interview with Levi Edgar Young, one of the Presidents of the First Quorum of the Seventy?”
The number of missionaries in those days was so small that those returning were given an interview by a General Authority. As the interview concluded, I was instructed to go home and tell my stake president that I was to be ordained a seventy. Puffed with pride, I returned home and informed my stake president the instruction I had received. The stake president happened to be my father. He never acted on the instruction—I was never ordained a seventy.
This puzzled me, and I sought out my mother to inquire why my father had never acted on the instruction. My mother gave me some wise counsel. She said, “Don’t worry about it. He is your stake president, and he knows what calling is right for you.” A short time later I was called into the stake Young Men’s presidency, which led to an event where I met a beautiful young lady who soon became my wife. My sister had brought back a very pleasant memory. Then she startled me with this statement, “At last you’ve made it to the seventies.”

“He’s a vigorous man who was raised in the tradition of hard work. His father taught him the value of money at an early age. At seventeen, Grandfather held five jobs.

“Grandfather likes to tell us about experiences he had when he was young. He recalls with a smile that once when he was attending school away from home, he wrote his father, telling him that he needed money for a new pair of shoes and hoping there might be a little left over to take out his girl friend. His father responded by sending him only the new shoes.”

When Camille Erickson was born, no one knew quite what to do.
Don’t misunderstand. Her parents already had five other children, so they were getting to be pros at parenting. Her five siblings had excitedly awaited her arrival. It was just that, well, she was a … girl.
Being the younger sister of five older brothers, and then the older sister of one younger brother, Camille knows a lot about “being one of the guys.” When the family splits up into teams for sports, Camille plays right along. As the only girl, Camille was the only person to have her own room—a fact she didn’t get used to for a long time.
“When I was little, I used to sneak into their rooms at night and go to sleep. My mom would find me the next morning, curled up on the floor,” she says.
But Camille, now a Mia Maid in Battle Ground, Washington, hasn’t slept on the floor for a long time. She still likes to play sports and to roughhouse with her brothers, but Camille’s life is more focused on school, Young Women, and friends than in those days when she was little. Also, her older brothers have grown up, and many of them don’t live at home anymore. In fact, since the age difference between her oldest brother and her youngest brother is 22 years, having the family all together is a rare experience.
“My brothers and I try to do things together, one-on-one, so that we have time to talk,” says Camille
Activities Camille enjoys with her brothers include things that are pretty unstructured, like watching videos, going out for treats, and taking walks together. But, occasionally, there is something more planned, like the time she took ballroom dance lessons with her 23-year-old brother, Travis.
“I think the average age in that class was 60,” says Travis with a grin. “But we had a good time.”
There are traditions that keep them close, too. The night Camille was born, Brad, her oldest brother, stayed up late to make her a birthday cake. Now her brothers send roses to her at school on her birthday.
“When my friends see that I get flowers from my brothers, they’re shocked. They can’t believe we’re all friends.”

Marny and Nancy attend early-morning seminary with one other student. It’s at 6:30 in the morning, and they have evolved a creative way of dealing with the early hour. They arrive at seminary with their hair undone, their makeup unapplied, wearing sweat suits or whatever else they can throw on. Then, after seminary, they both go to Nancy’s house, where they shower and dress for school.
Melissa attends a once-a-week seminary class, doing the rest of the work through home study. Both classes are taught by a Sister Babcock who is, by all accounts, a real ball of fire. She used to be a champion sprinter, and she still keeps things moving fast. “We never fall asleep in her lessons no matter how tired we are. She makes it so interesting, and she’s so enthusiastic. It gives you a real boost. We also have Mutual, and that helps. But I especially look forward to Sundays. Sunday is WOW! Supercharge! You come home from church a mile high! Getting together with LDS friends has the same effect. It’s like being in a desert and seeing water. ‘A Mormon! Talk to me!’”

It was my senior year at Greenwich (Connecticut) High School when I had the chance to take college recruiting trips. Deep in my heart I wanted to play for BYU, but when I made my official visit, Coach Edwards called me in and said, “Steve, we hear you’re a pretty good athlete, but we’re sorry, we don’t have a scholarship for you right now. If one opens up, we’ll let you know.”
Obviously, I was very disappointed when I went home.
But somehow a scholarship did open up. All summer I worked like a crazy man trying to get in shape for football. I ran miles and miles. My dad had an old ’65 Oldsmobile. It was a huge car—the kind that holds five people in one seat. And I used to push that around the neighborhood because I once saw Dick Butkus do it to get in shape. All it did was mess up my back, but I worked as hard as I could to be ready.
As I worked, I tried to figure out which quarterbacks would be in front of me. I thought there were about four ahead of me, and that wasn’t too bad for a freshman. But you never knew. Maybe the coach would really be impressed and make me third team. And then maybe he’d want me to get some playing experience and make me second string. And then, maybe he would think I was great and make me first team as a freshman. That was my frame of mind when I got to BYU that fall.
I remember the day I arrived at school. I went to the fieldhouse and looked at the depth chart, which everyone’s name by position and order. I saw all the names I figured I’d see in front of mine, but there were more. Not until I got to the end of the list did the name Young appear. Eighth-string quarterback—in parentheses. That’s like letting you be in the school choir but putting you off in another room to sing by yourself.
And the parentheses. What did that mean? Maybe waterboy? What?
I soon found out. In practices, I was to play the opposing team’s quarterback. Unfortunately, the defensive players never figured out that I wasn’t really the opposing team’s quarterback. They creamed me all week long.
I remember so many times when the opposing team, with me at quarterback, would run the dumbest plays. They’d have ten guys go one way so the quarterback would be left alone. Then their defense would smash me. I’d be at the bottom of the pile; my helmet would be turned sideways, and I’d be peering out through the ear hole, trying to see where I was.
After about five weeks of that, I became very discouraged. The coach didn’t even know my name. It seemed that nobody cared.
I called my dad and said, “I’ve had it with this whole thing. I’m not having fun; I’m not enjoying myself. I think I’m going to quit and come home.”
Luckily, because he truly cared for me, my dad said, “Son, you can quit, but you can’t come home. I don’t live with quitters.” So there it was. I kept on playing, no matter how discouraging it got.
One of my toughest tests came at the first home game. It was a crisp fall afternoon, the band was playing, the balloons were up, and there were people everywhere. There was excitement in the air, but not in my heart as I walked over to the stadium with that huge crowd. Eighth-string quarterbacks don’t suit up, so I was going to sit in the stands with the rest of the spectators. I was deeply disappointed and discouraged that I wasn’t playing. I wondered how in the world I would ever make it onto that field. It seemed almost impossible.
That very day, right there in the stadium, I decided I would do two things. First, I was going to be the first player on the field every day and the last one off. Second, I was going to give 100 percent to every play I ran, no matter how stupid it was. I was going to execute every play like it was the last one of my life.
Now I was asked to run a lot of dumb plays that season, and I got a lot of mud in my face. There were a lot of days when the varsity players thought I was crazy because I didn’t leave the field until after they did. It was embarrassing, but I hoped it would make a difference.
And it did make a difference. I don’t know exactly what happened. Maybe Coach Edwards glanced over during one of those dumb plays when I was working extra hard, and he said to the coach next to him, “Hey, who’s that scrub quarterback over there? Let’s check him out.” What matters is that I didn’t quit, things got better as the season went on, and I finally got the opportunities I had always hoped and worked for.
The key was learning to develop good habits and self-discipline so when the coach just happened to look, I was doing my best. When I was the eighth-string quarterback in parentheses, becoming the starting quarterback at BYU often seemed impossible. It was the little things I did every day, the habits I developed, that eventually put me on that field in front of 65,000 people. It’s the same way with the gospel and life. Our ultimate goal of returning to live with Heavenly Father may seem an unreachable goal at times, but the daily habits we develop in life are the ones that will help us get there. We need to develop habits of hard work, self-discipline, honesty, consideration, and finding ways to serve those around us. We need to develop the habits of scripture reading, meditation, and starting and ending each day with prayer—good, sincere communication between us and our Heavenly Father.

As I sat at home trying to calm my anxiety over what was going on in the world, I opened my journal randomly and landed on the following: “There are so many fears that come with getting up each day in this world, but with faith in the teachings of the gospel, we can put one foot in front of the other. … Faith always defeats fear.”
I knew that I had just received powerful personal revelation and that Heavenly Father gave it to me through my own journal entries from several years before. I was blessed with a moment of peace and the knowledge that Heavenly Father was with me back then, and He’s right here with me now.
Danette Gray, Utah, USA

A devout Christian from the Netherlands named Corrie ten Boom found out firsthand the power of asking God to help her forgive someone.

She and her sister Betsy had been imprisoned in concentration camps during World War II. Corrie and others endured horrible abuse from the Nazi prison guards. Her sister Betsy even died as a result of that abuse. Corrie survived.

After the war, Corrie discovered the healing power of forgiving others. She often shared her message in public settings. Yet one day her words were put to the ultimate test.

Following a public speech, Corrie was approached by one of the cruelest prison guards from the camps.

He told Corrie that he’d become a Christian since the war and had repented of the terrible things he’d done as a prison guard.

He held his hand out and said, “Will you forgive me?”

Despite all she’d learned and shared about forgiving others, Corrie couldn’t accept this particular man’s hand and forgive him—not on her own, anyway.

She later wrote, “Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. … Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.

“I tried to smile, [and] I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer. Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness.

“As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.

“And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.”1

Nell of Branford Hall It is 1664. Nell’s parents see how intelligent she is and allow her to learn from books and her father’s microscope, a new invention then. When the plague comes, though she understands (from looking through the microscope) how even dead fleas can transmit the deadly disease, she doesn’t want to understand why she can’t save her best friend from it. A story of courage by an entire village.

When 15-year-old Jenni tells about having a prayer answered, she starts with an apology. She is sorry to admit that she hadn’t been praying regularly for almost a year. Things in her life had not been going well—not at school, not with her friends, not even at church.
One night, Jenni explains, she wanted to watch a movie. She bent down to look at the movies on the lowest bookshelf when she caught sight of a photo of her uncle who had tragically passed away not too long before. Suddenly, the weight of everything she was worried about made her want to cry. “I just knew in that instant that I had to pray,” says Jenni. She knelt where she was and prayed.
Jenni describes receiving her answer: “As soon as I was done, I had the answers to my questions. I felt that everything was all right again. Everything is going to be OK. Everything with my uncle is OK. I realized that I love school and my friends. As soon as I finished praying, I knew that I had to go to church because it is for me. It really hit me, and I felt so comfortable and so warm. I know my Heavenly Father loves me and He will help me through things.”
For Jenni, this prayer was one she had been wanting to say but somehow couldn’t. Now, even thinking about it, she gets that same feeling of comfort over again and the same assurance that her answer was from the Lord.

“Economically, our family had its ups and downs. Like many Americans, we did well during the 1920s. My father started making lots of money in real estate, in addition to his other businesses. For a few years we were actually wealthy. But then came the Depression.
“No one who’s lived through it can ever forget. My father lost all his money, and we almost lost our house. I remember asking my sister, who was a couple of years older, whether we’d have to move out and how we’d find somewhere else to live. I was only six or seven at the time, but the anxiety I felt about the future is still vivid in my mind. Bad times are indelible—they stay with you forever.” (Lee Iacocca and William Novak, Iacocca: An Autobiography, New York: Bantam Books, 1984, p. 7.)