Gospel Story Finder

I can vividly recall a sunny Sunday afternoon in July 1959 when Pamela (whom I later married) and I were walking and talking together. I was contemplating becoming a member of the Church. Pamela said, “I can’t remember the missionaries teaching you about tithing.”
“What is tithing?” I asked.
Pamela responded that members give 10 percent of their income in obedience to God’s law and as an expression of their gratitude for all that our Heavenly Father has given them.
There have been a few moments in my life when I felt faint as a result of shock, and this was one of them. “Ten percent!” I echoed. “That’s impossible. There’s no way I could afford to pay tithing.”
Pamela calmly replied, “My father does. He has a wife and four children, and his income is less than yours.” She followed up by mentioning another family I had come to know in the branch, informing me that they lived on less money than I did and that there were six children in the family. This proved to be a useful challenge to me. If they could manage, I thought, then so could I.
Eleven years later, faced with a real test of my commitment to that law, I realized that through the payment of tithing great faith had developed. It was no longer simply a matter of money to me. In response to that test, I followed my faith, and was blessed for it (see Mal. 3:10).

Ben was angry. It was Saturday morning, and he had just come home from a violin rehearsal. He had a list of chores to do, a violin performance that afternoon, and now something more—his dad had just told him that it was his family’s turn to clean the church.
“I’m not going to have any time to play!” he declared as he threw his jacket on the floor.
Dad sat down with Ben at the kitchen table and said quietly, “I know this is a busy day. But it might be easier if you remember who your time really belongs to.”
Ben calmed down. He knew he was a child of God and that everything—even time—was a gift from Heavenly Father. He nodded slowly.
Dad smiled. “Go get a Book of Mormon, Ben. I want to show you something.”
Dad opened the scriptures to Mosiah 2. “You remember King Benjamin, don’t you?” Ben grinned. He liked to hear stories about the ancient prophet whose name he shared.
“King Benjamin wanted to teach his people how to be happy. He built a tower so people could hear him better, and the people gathered from all around. It was a lot like general conference. He stood on the tower and reminded the people that their homes, families, bodies, and even the air around them were gifts from a loving Heavenly Father.
“He also told his people that he had worked very hard his whole life serving them. He said, ‘And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’”*
“You see, Ben,” Dad concluded, “when you are helping other people, you are helping Heavenly Father. If Jesus appeared to you this morning and asked you to serve Him all day, you would probably be pretty excited about it. If you think about it, Jesus has already asked us to serve Him every day.”
Ben was almost convinced, but he had a question. “I can see how working helps others, but how does playing my violin serve anyone?”
Dad smiled wisely. “Why don’t you wait and see?”
As Ben started doing his chores, he realized that the work needed to be done, so he might as well be cheerful in doing it. He soon noticed how happy it made his mom when he worked without complaining.
Later, when Ben went to the church to help clean, he had fun racing his brother as they vacuumed the cultural hall. He thought about how a spotless church shows respect to Heavenly Father. And cleaning didn’t seem to take as long as he thought it would.
The violin performance was at a home for older people. At first Ben felt nervous. Most of the people were in wheelchairs, and many of them looked like they were asleep. But as Ben began to play his violin, he noticed a white-haired lady in the front row. She was tapping her foot to the music. Ben tried to play his very best just for her. He played a fast fiddling song, and everyone began to clap their hands and stomp their feet. Soon everyone was laughing and smiling.
The last song was “I Am a Child of God.”** Ben played better than he ever had before. As the final notes sang out, a sweet and peaceful feeling settled over the room.
Ben understood now. Beautiful music brings people closer to Heavenly Father, and he was serving others by inviting the Spirit. As he sat down, Dad squeezed his shoulder. “When you play your violin, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me. You have a great gift and you need to keep sharing it.” Ben felt warm inside.
As they walked out of the rest home, Ben waved good-bye to his new friends.
“How do you feel now?” Dad asked.
“I feel so good, Dad. I thought today would be nothing but work. But when I thought about serving Heavenly Father instead of myself, everything seemed easier.”

“This has been a pentecostal time with me,” wrote Elder B. H. Roberts of the First Council of the Seventy. “The Lord has shown me my inner parts, myself; and there I have found such grained and gnarled spots that I have been humbled to sincere repentance.”

I don’t remember exactly what comment in seminary made me start crying. Maybe it was “You know, less-active members just didn’t search hard enough for answers,” or the consensus that they’d all been deceived. Maybe it was the comparison of former members to people in the mists of darkness (see 1 Nephi 8:23–24) or the implication that there was no hope for them unless they speedily returned to church.
One of these comments was the breaking point, and I burst into tears. I didn’t leave class; I just sat at my desk and cried.
I was 15 years old. My dad had left the Church 13 years before.

Even though he seems to have conquered every obstacle in his life, at one time Spence felt his leg would stop him from serving a mission. “I was about 16. I was struggling. I didn’t know if I was going on a mission. I have a fake leg, and I was scared. I thought I’d just rather not go. And I was having trouble with sports. My prosthetic legs were breaking a lot, and things were not good.
“One night, after family home evening, I got a feeling that I needed to read something. I didn’t know what. We have a bunch of Church books up on our shelf. I’d never looked at them before. I pulled out a book by Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone. I started reading it. I got to one story when Elder Featherstone was talking to a kid who didn’t have a leg. He wasn’t going on a mission, but then Elder Featherstone talked to him about it. I put myself into what was happening. The kid came back and told Elder Featherstone that he had a mission call and he was going to go. I just stopped. I realized, ‘That’s me. He’s talking straight to me.’ I set the book down. I had found my answer.”
But that moment was just the beginning of the changes in Spence’s life. For the first time in his life, he started praying on his own. He’d been taught to pray, but up until then, he had only prayed when called on in Sunday School or in his family. “Now I pray all the time in everything, in every sporting event, before every test. I pray for help,” says Spence. “My whole life turned around. Church hadn’t been my main priority, sports were. Now the gospel is the main thing. I have gained even more of a testimony of the Atonement. What Jesus Christ did for me is unbelievable.
“These past couple of years, I’ve been a lot happier. Even people at school can see that I’m a lot happier, a lot friendlier. I talk to everybody. If they say hi to me, I’ll talk to them. I hardly ever get mad anymore. That’s what I try to explain to my friends who aren’t members of the Church. It’s not that we’re out to convert you just to have another member of the Church. We want to make you happier.”
In the end, Spence learned what everyone has to learn for themselves—it doesn’t matter what you have to deal with in this life; if you turn to the Lord, He will listen and guide you in your decisions. And that’s why Spence packed his extra leg and made the commitment to serve the Lord for two years on a mission.

We don’t have the New Era here, and I read the magazine on the Internet with the translators online to help. The New Era helps me so much, and I am grateful for the opportunity to read it.
Brenda, Brazil

He’d never forget the day he’d driven the car home from the paint shop, so gloriously white that it glowed. She had been waiting on the porch when he’d rounded the corner, his horn blasting across the neighborhood. She’d whooped and hollered and raced him to his driveway.

“It’s beautiful! It’s all white and pretty, and it’s ours!”

“You bet it is, kid. Hop inside and we’ll take it for a spin.”

They had gone to the toy store, had bought a red kite with long white streamers, and had taken it to the beach. The sky had been filled with puffy white clouds and a crisp breeze that carried the kite high into the sky and over the waves. He had given her the string, once he’d gotten the kite into the air, and she had run across the sand, her bare feet kicking a trail behind her. The kite had faltered, then fallen, slow and steady, until it had dipped into the ocean and disappeared.

“The kite! It’s drowning!”

“It’s okay.” He’d picked her up and lifted her onto his shoulders. “We’ll buy another one.”

“Wow, I’m on top of the world!”

“Ouuff, you’re on top of me, fatso.”

She had giggled and squealed, and for the first time he’d realized how much he really loved the kid.

This is the time when you can help. Instead of overly worrying about her, you should just talk to her and be a good listener. I am grateful for my Church friends, who always lovingly rallied around me when I felt depressed, frustrated, angry, or sad. I know I am loved because they are always there to lend a listening ear. Usually, I felt much better about the situation and about myself after I talked it out. So be supportive and encouraging, and help her regain her confidence. Also, ask Heavenly Father to bless her with more faith and happiness.Yue-Min L., 16, Taiwan

Maya and Cade raced to the chicken coop.
“Is anything there?” Maya asked.
“Not yet,” Cade said.
Maya and Cade took care of the chickens every day. They gave them food and water. And they checked for eggs. But there were no eggs yet.
“My chicken will lay the first egg,” Cade said.
“No,” Maya said. “Mine will.”
A few days later Cade ran into the house. “I found an egg!” The egg was white with brown speckles.
“That’s from Cade’s chicken,” Mom said. “My chicken’s eggs will be brown. Maya, your chicken’s eggs will be blue.”
Cade pumped his fist. “My chicken laid the first egg!” he said.
Maya thought about the blue egg. She could wait for that.
But waiting was hard! The next egg didn’t come for days. And it was brown. “Your blue egg will come,” Mom said. “Sometimes we have to wait for good things.” So Maya kept waiting.
Every day Cade and Maya filled the water. Every day, they scattered seeds for the chickens to eat. And they kept checking for eggs. Sometimes there was a speckled egg. Sometimes there was a brown egg. But never a blue one. So Maya kept waiting.
One day Maya checked for eggs again. This time she found two. One was speckled. One was brown. Then something caught her eye. Another egg, hidden under the straw. A blue egg!
Maya picked it up. It was beautiful. Waiting was worth it.

Despite my efforts, I couldn’t locate an LDS meetinghouse. Ghersi offered to help, but I never did find the address of the building closest to where I lived. In the meantime, he loaned me some pamphlets that he had.
Finally, while walking not far from my house, I saw a building under construction. The sign read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” I recognized the name from the pamphlets.
Months later, when construction was finished, my sister Haydee and I went together to that building. Two missionaries greeted us, and I told them about my experience with the Book of Mormon and my desire to be a member of the Church.
During the discussions, I told the missionaries of my concern about the sheep of the other fold. They asked me to read of the Savior’s visit to the Americas—particularly His words in 3 Nephi 15:16–21—and I knew I had found my answer at last. Two weeks after finishing the missionary discussions, my sister and I were baptized into the Church I had sought for so long.

The highlight of Joseph’s beekeeping adventure was when his hives yielded 60 kilograms of beautiful wild honey. He gave away dozens of jars and received rave reviews. “Even my friend who runs a honey business said that my honey tastes better than what they produce,” Joseph beams. He couldn’t wait to see how his hives would perform in the next harvesting season.

Bishop Fuqua told of a missionary who wrote to his friend about baptizing someone, “That little piece of paper may have changed his friend’s life,” the bishop said. “It helped him discover that he wanted to share the gospel too.”

I had expected to be overwhelmed by the differences—the languages, the cultures, the variety in ages and in experience in the Church. But as we sang hymns, prayed, and worshipped together, there was a great spirit of unity. We were united by our testimonies of the Savior, by our love for the Book of Mormon, and by the knowledge that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I felt the differences melt away. The languages, the cultures, our tastes in foods and clothing were unimportant—for I had come to the place where the four corners of the world meet, and I had met my brothers and my sisters.

My family is your typical busy family, running around with a million things to do every day.
Last year, new schedules revealed that many of our activities would fall on Monday evenings. My younger sister had a dance class on Monday night; my younger brothers had soccer practice that night; and I had marching band. I loved being in marching band, and I had just received a solo part. That part was a particular joy because I love creating music.
When my mom and dad realized family home evening was in jeopardy, they decided that our other Monday night activities had to go—including marching band practice. I was very upset. I knew that not going to those practices meant my grade in band would suffer and that I might lose my solo part. I tried to explain my dilemma to my parents, but their answer was, “The prophet says we need to have family home evening,” and that was that, end of discussion.
I knew they were right, but I was still angry and upset over the loss of my practices. And it wasn’t just me. My brothers could no longer go to soccer practices; my sister had to change dance classes. It was inconvenient for all of us.
The first couple of Mondays, we complained about the things we were missing, but then we realized Mom and Dad weren’t going to give in on this one. Eventually, I started looking forward to free Monday nights and family time. I didn’t have to go back to school for more practice. I could just stay home and be with my family.
Then my fear happened: I lost the solo in the marching band show. How my heart ached. It was hard to give up something I loved so much. But a short while later, band practices were moved to Wednesdays. It’s nice that band doesn’t conflict with family home evening anymore.
Some people might say it was a coincidence that practices were moved, but to me it says that blessings come from keeping the commandments.

Like all of us, Toshio Kawada of the Obihiro Ward, Sapporo Japan Stake, has had to make crucial choices when faced with life’s difficulties. He joined the Church in 1972, and he and his wife, Miyuki, were sealed in the Laie Hawaii Temple in 1978. They have two sons. Brother Kawada served as president of the Obihiro Branch, president of the Kushiro Japan District, and counselor in the Japan Sapporo Mission presidency for many years.
More than 20 years ago, when his family was still very young, Brother Kawada was working for his father as a dairy farmer. Tragically, one day the large barn where they kept their milk cows and all their equipment burned down. Financially devastated, his father went to the farmers’ union for a loan but was turned down. Subsequently, his father and older brother filed for bankruptcy. Although not legally responsible, Brother Kawada felt obligated to help pay back all the debts.
As Brother Kawada was pondering a solution to his problem, he decided to plant carrots. He had grown potatoes, but he did not know how to grow carrots. He planted the seeds and prayed earnestly for his carrots to grow.
All this time, Brother Kawada faithfully served in the Church, kept the Sabbath day holy, and paid his tithing. When he and his family dressed in their best clothes and went to their Sunday meetings, many neighbors scoffed at them. It was difficult to lose one day a week in their fields, especially at harvesttime. It was not always easy for them to pay their tithing, but they offered it to the Lord obediently and cheerfully.
Fall came and Brother Kawada’s carrots turned out to be unusually sweet and large, with an exceptionally rich color. He had an abundant harvest and went to the farmers’ union for help, but they refused to sell his carrots through their distribution system. He fasted and prayed and felt inspired to try to find a produce distributor in Tokyo—something that is very difficult to do without introductions or connections.
Brother Kawada was blessed to find a large distributor in Tokyo. Since then he has been very successful and has repaid all his father’s debts. He currently has a large agricultural operation with many employees, and he is teaching young farmers how to effectively organize their businesses.
Even in exceptionally trying circumstances, Brother Kawada chose to be true to the promises he made in his baptismal, priesthood, and temple covenants. Although it would have been easy to rationalize working on the Sabbath, not serving in the Church, and not paying tithing until his problems were resolved, he was resolute in following the directive to “seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness.” He then found that, indeed, “all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt. 6:33).
I respect Toshio Kawada not simply because he overcame hard times and became a successful farmer. Far more impressive is that he made courageous choices during a difficult period, knowing they would not necessarily bring an immediate reward—or any temporal reward at all. His example of righteously using agency and steadfastly holding to everlasting principles is worthy of emulation.

How has your testimony been strengthened through working with your sister? I have definitely seen the hand of God in the transformation of my sister from a sickly child. Seeing color in her face, watching her develop a love for running, and watching her feel well has been so miraculous. I know that could have been accomplished only with the help of God. My testimony of the love of God for each of us has grown immensely.

Other kinds of blessings can come, too. Teresa Gai, a widow living in Lima, Peru, supported herself by operating a small store, and Sunday was one of her biggest business days. When missionaries taught her the gospel, she worried about closing her store on Sunday. One weekend she finally agreed to do so, not realizing she was closing her store the day before New Year’s—her most profitable day of the year! With no business for two days in a row, she faced serious financial consequences. But she had promised. She closed her store and went to church. On Tuesday, she discovered that by the end of the day she had done more business than any day since opening her store. She never again did business on Sunday, and her sales increased steadily (see “Pioneering in the Andes,” Liahona, May 1997, 44–46).

In August 1977 my husband and I moved to Rehovot, Israel, with our three children, all less than six years old. The language was unfamiliar, few people spoke English, the food was different from what we were used to, and shopping was a challenge. We learned much during the two years we lived there.
Time moved quickly, and soon it was December. For most people in the country, December 25 was going to be just like any other day. But for our family and the small number of other Christians living in Israel, it would be Christmas.
We came to know a beautiful Jewish couple, Israel and Millie Jachobson. He had come to Israel as a refugee from his native Lithuania, and she was from South Africa. They were in their late 60s and lived in a small apartment about a mile from us. Israel worked at the Weizmann Institute of Science, where my husband also worked. They had been kind to us, inviting us to their apartment several times to celebrate various Jewish holidays.
As we prepared for Christmas that year, we wanted our children to feel the importance of celebrating the Savior’s birth. I found some brown wrapping paper and cut it into the shape of a Christmas tree. Our children colored it with green crayons. Then we glued candy to our paper tree as ornaments and taped it on the wall. We were not expecting many gifts under our tree that year. We felt alone and far away from everyone and everything we knew.
One evening just a few days before Christmas, someone knocked on our door. When we opened the door, we found Israel Jachobson standing there, holding a cake. He and his wife knew we were Christians and that the birth of Jesus Christ was important to us. They did what they thought was best and made a cake to help us celebrate the Savior’s birthday. That was a tender experience for our whole family.
That Christmas we enjoyed visiting Bethlehem and the fields around it. But nothing touched us more than the thoughtful gift of a wise man named Israel Jachobson and his kind, loving wife, Millie.

I may not have met him physically, but spiritually I feel I have. Whenever I read his inspired messages, I imagine him talking to me one-to-one with his hand on my shoulder. A First Presidency Message entitled “Life’s Obligations” (see Ensign, Feb. 1999, 2) helped me understand that although income is important, I do not need to be a multimillionaire to be happy. This message has brought me inner peace and satisfaction.

Taking a stand wasn’t easy for Sarah Koyle, a Laurel who lives in Rancho Cucamonga, California, but she knew it was the right thing to do. When a teacher at her school showed a movie that Sarah felt was inappropriate, she made her opinion known.
After Sarah’s bold move, there was little room for doubt by her peers as to what Sarah believed was right. Then a local newspaper interviewed Sarah about her stand on R-rated movies. Again, Sarah was able to voice her opinions without reservation.
Was all the attention worth it, especially when Sarah seemed to be the only one who felt that the movies were wrong?
“If I were given the chance, I would definitely do this again,” says Sarah. “Standing for the prophet’s words is something I can’t do enough of. It wasn’t easy, but it was right.”