Gospel Story Finder

I just received my August 1996 issue of the New Era. As I read through it I came upon the FYI article “Fine Tuning” about watching television. Recently my mother and I moved to Montana from southern California. It was a big change. I had grown up having everything within reach, like TV, radio, and different kinds of music. There is so much corruption and temptation everywhere, and after a while you kind of get used to it. I used to watch TV when I was at home, and I listened to the radio when I was in my truck. So when we moved here, at first I was upset that we didn’t have TV, and I got bored really easily. But then I started going outside and playing with my dog, reading books, and writing poetry on my computer. Then slowly I started forgetting about watching TV. I have been reading more books on the Church and developing my testimony. I sometimes go outside and watch the sunrise or sunset, admiring nature and all of the beautiful gifts Heavenly Father has blessed us with. Thank you for the spiritual encouragement.
Layla BastiansenHelena, Montana

The Durrant family takes pictures outside the temple.

As a young man, he volunteered as a scout to ____________ the Saints against Johnston’s Army.

When I was a young boy, “endure to the end” meant to me mainly that I had to try harder to stay awake until the end of our Church meetings. Later as a teenager I progressed only slightly in my understanding of this scriptural phrase. I linked it with youthful empathy to the efforts of our dear elderly members to hang in there until the end of their lives.

Years ago, I served as a local Church leader. One of our young men, Danny, was outstanding in every way. He was obedient, kind, good, and had a great heart. However, when he graduated from high school, he started to associate with a rough crowd. He got involved in drugs, specifically methamphetamine, and traveled down the slippery slope of addiction and destruction. Before long, his appearance completely changed. He was hardly recognizable. The most significant change was in his eyes—the light in his eyes had dimmed. Several times I reached out to him, but to no avail. He wasn’t interested.
It was difficult to see this incredible young man suffer and live a life that was not him! He was capable of so much more.
Then one day, his miracle began.
He attended a sacrament meeting where his younger brother shared his testimony prior to departing for a mission. During the meeting, Danny felt something he had not felt for a long time. He felt the love of the Lord. He finally had hope.
Although he had a desire to change, it was difficult for Danny. His addictions and the accompanying guilt were almost more than he could bear.
One particular afternoon, when I was out mowing our lawn, Danny pulled up in his car unannounced. He was struggling terribly. I turned off the mower, and we sat down together in the shade of the front porch. It was then that he shared the feelings of his heart. He truly wanted to come back. However, turning away from his addictions and lifestyle was extremely difficult. Adding to this, he felt so guilty, so ashamed for falling so far. He asked, “Can I really be forgiven? Is there really a way back?”
After he poured out his heart with these concerns, we read Alma chapter 36 together:
“Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities. …
“Yea, … the very thought of coming into the presence of my God did rack my soul with inexpressible horror” (verses 13–14).
After those verses, Danny said, “This is exactly how I feel!”
We continued:
“While I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world. …
“And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold” (verses 17, 20).
As we read these passages, tears began to flow. Alma’s joy was the joy he had been searching for!
We discussed that Alma had been exceptionally wicked. However, once he repented, he never looked back. He became a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ. He became a prophet! Danny’s eyes widened. “A prophet?” he said.
I simply responded, “Yes, a prophet. No pressure on you!”
We discussed that while his sins did not rise to the level of Alma’s, the same promise of complete and perfect forgiveness is made to everyone—in and through the infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Danny now understood. He knew what he needed to do: he needed to begin his journey by trusting in the Lord and forgiving himself!
Danny’s mighty change of heart was nothing short of a miracle. Over time, his countenance changed, and the brightness in his eyes returned. He became temple worthy! He was finally back!
After several months, I asked Danny if he would like to submit an application to serve a full-time mission. His response was one of shock and awe.
He said, “I would love to serve a mission, but you know where I have been and the things I have done! I thought I was disqualified.”
I responded, “You may be right. However, there is nothing precluding us from making a request. If you are excused, at least you will know that you expressed a sincere desire to serve the Lord.” His eyes lit up. He was thrilled with this idea. To him this was a long shot, but it was a chance he was willing to take.
A few weeks later, and to his amazement, another miracle occurred. Danny received a call to serve a full-time mission.
A few months after Danny arrived in the mission field, I received a telephone call. His president simply said, “What is it with this young man? He is the most incredible missionary I have ever seen!” You see, this president had received a modern-day Alma the Younger.
Two years later, Danny returned home with honor, having served the Lord with all his heart, might, mind, and strength.
Following his missionary report in sacrament meeting, I returned home, only to hear a knock at the front door. There stood Danny with tears welling in his eyes. He said, “Can we talk for a minute?” We went outside to the same porch step.
He said, “President, do you think I have truly been forgiven?”
Now my tears accompanied his. Before me stood a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ who had given his all to teaching and testifying about the Savior. He was the embodiment of the healing and strengthening power of the Savior’s Atonement.
I said, “Danny! Have you looked in the mirror? Have you seen your eyes? They are filled with light, and you are beaming with the Spirit of the Lord. Of course you have been forgiven! You are amazing! Now what you need to do is move forward with your life. Don’t look back! Look forward with faith to the next ordinance.”
Danny’s miracle continues today. He married in the temple and returned to school, where he received a master’s degree. He continues to serve the Lord with honor and dignity in his callings. More important, he has become an incredible husband and a faithful father. He is a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ.
President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Without the [Savior’s] infinite Atonement, all mankind would be irretrievably lost.” Danny wasn’t lost, and neither are we to the Lord. He stands at the door to lift us, to strengthen us, and to forgive us. He always remembers to love us!

Every spring, the mother hen on the farm by Aaron’s house hatches new baby chicks. Aaron enjoys watching the mother hen take care of her chicks.
There are a lot of animals like snakes, foxes, and hawks near the farm that are dangerous to the baby chicks.
The mother hen watches for danger. When she sees an animal that could hurt her chicks, she clucks to warn her babies.
Some of the baby chicks quickly run under the wings of their mother for safety.
The mother hen keeps her chicks under her wings until the danger has passed.
Other chicks do not go to their mother quickly. Not listening to their mother’s calls for them is dangerous because the chicks cannot protect themselves from the animals.
In Primary, Aaron learned that Jesus said He is like a mother hen and we are like baby chicks. When we follow Jesus’s commandments, He will protect us like the mother hen protects her babies.
Watching the mother hen and chicks makes Aaron happy because it reminds him of how much Jesus loves us.

I am currently serving as a missionary. Four years ago I was an inactive college student. I would like to share an experience from then and now with you. One day in college I was in the LDS institute of religion just seething with rebellion. I picked up a copy of the New Era, glanced through it, and discarded it as having no relevance to me. Boy, was I ever wrong! Just the other day in an old stack of New Eras I found the exact same issue. Out of curiosity I sat down to read it. Amazingly, I found an article that really helped me find an answer to a problem I wondered about. In fact, I read the whole magazine and found it fascinating. The gospel changes lives, and I’m grateful for it.
Elder Robin WilliamsIowa Des Moines Mission

A few years ago, one of our young grandsons, Aaron, began having health problems. He became fatigued, had quite a bit of bruising, and did not look healthy. After medical testing, he was diagnosed with severe aplastic anemia, a disease where his bone marrow stopped producing red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. Without treatment and an eventual cure, his blood could not clot properly or fight off infections, so even minor falls, injuries, or illnesses could quickly become life-threatening.
For a period of time, Aaron received regular platelet and blood transfusions to keep him out of danger. The doctors explained that the only cure for the disease would be a bone marrow transplant, and the best chance for success would be to have a sibling as the donor. If one of his siblings were an ideal match, the outcome of the transplant could be lifesaving. His four younger brothers were tested, and one, Maxwell, was deemed a perfect match.
Even with a perfect donor match, a bone marrow transplant still poses a serious risk of complications. The process required that Aaron’s own cells in his diseased bone marrow be destroyed by a combination of chemotherapy and radiation before receiving the stem cells from his brother Maxwell’s bone marrow. Then because of Aaron’s compromised immune system, he needed to be isolated in the hospital for several weeks and then at home for several months with special protocols, restrictions, and medications.
The hoped-for outcome from the transplant was that Aaron’s body would not reject the donor cells and that Maxwell’s cells would gradually produce the needed red and white blood cells and platelets in Aaron’s body. A successful donor transplant causes a very real physiological change. Amazingly, a doctor explained that if Aaron committed a crime and left blood at the crime scene, the police could arrest his brother Maxwell. This is because Aaron’s blood would come from Maxwell’s transplanted cells and have Maxwell’s DNA, and this would be the case for the rest of his life.
Aaron being saved by his brother’s blood has spurred many thoughts about the atoning blood of Jesus Christ and the effect of His Atonement on us. I would like to focus today on the permanent, life-giving change that occurs as we allow the Lord to work miracles in us.
Aaron did not have the power in himself to overcome the disease. His body could not make the blood cells needed to sustain his life. No matter what he personally did, he could not heal his bone marrow. Just as Aaron could not cure himself, we cannot save ourselves. No matter how capable, educated, brilliant, or strong we are, we cannot cleanse ourselves from our sins, change our bodies to an immortal state, or exalt ourselves. It is only possible through the Savior Jesus Christ and His infinite Atonement. “There is none other way nor name given under heaven whereby man can be saved in the kingdom of God.” It is His atoning blood that cleanses us and sanctifies us.
Although Aaron could not heal himself, in order for the transplant to work he needed to be willing to do what the doctors asked—even very difficult, challenging things. Although we can’t save ourselves, when we submit to the Lord’s will and keep our covenants, the way is open for our redemption. Like the remarkable process of the very DNA of Aaron’s blood cells changing, we can have our hearts changed, have His image in our countenances, and become new creatures in Christ.
Can you imagine how overwhelming it would have been for our young grandson Aaron to assume he had to understand and perform all the medical procedures associated with his transplant himself? We should not assume we need to do what only the Savior can do in the miraculous process of our perfection.
With medical treatments like Aaron’s, there is always some uncertainty of the outcome. In fact, Aaron needed a second transplant when the first one had complications. Thankfully, with a spiritual change of heart, we don’t have to wonder if it will happen. When we live according to His will, “relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save,” there is a 100 percent guarantee of being cleansed by the Savior’s blood and eventually being perfected in Him. He is “a God of truth, and [cannot] lie.”
The miraculous change in Aaron’s health has brought great joy to our family. Imagine the great joy in heaven as mighty changes happen in our souls.

Many years ago, Elder Bruce C. Hafen, now an emeritus member of the Seventy, shared a comical example of bad choices during a talk given in New Zealand. As I remember it, Cookie Monster (a famous Sesame Street character) had won a quiz show, and he could choose among three choices for his prize. First, he could have a new house one month later. Second, he could have a new car one week later. Or third, he could have a magnificent cookie—right now! What do you think he chose? You are right—he chose the cookie!6

Elder Tuttle then left us these lines from Robert Browning Hamilton titled “Along the Road,” which teach a lesson on pleasure and a lesson on sorrow:
I walked a mile with Pleasure.
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne’er a word said she;
But oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!

“I experienced a similar situation several years ago. I befriended a person to try and help him, and I associated regularly with him. Although I feel I helped him, I ended up having a lot of problems, which I brought upon myself. It was a hard and painful road back.”
Elder Don PattersonKorea Seoul Mission

The bus speeds past more and more houses. Just a few fields and we are in the outskirts of the next town. Then we pass the all too familiar mining villages. The pit heaps of red shale blend into the scenery, looking almost like the canyons and valleys we see in cowboy films. The likeness ends there. The smoke-blackened terrace houses crowd upon each other, almost as if they had been fighting to see which could be built closest to the pit head. Each little house fronts onto the street, but the backyard contains the most precious possession of all—the pigeon hut. No one seems to know why, but miners seem to have a love for these remarkable birds, cherishing and loving them almost as if they were human.
The skies grow darker as we move farther south. I close my eyes, trying to forget the hectic day of preparation. Finish work early, overnight case to pack, and picnic case to fill. Then the agonizing wait for the bus. Had it crashed? Perhaps it hadn’t turned up at all, or could they have forgotten about me and decided to take a different route onto the motorway?
Daylight is now well and truly gone and the lights of the oncoming traffic glare off the wet road surface. Little people in their little cars going—who knows where? My heart fills with warmth as I anticipate tomorrow and its events.
The northern conurbations have been left behind now. There is more countryside, but, sadly, all we see of its beauty is the occasional light twinkling from some ancient farmhouse kitchen, a small candle in a saucer of darkness. The endless drone of the engine goes on and on, though it is almost drowned by the constant, excited chatter of our fellow passengers. The passengers, between the ages of 12 and 90, take the opportunity of having a chat. Six hours later everyone knows someone just a little bit better, and all are grateful for the time spent together. The first time, I brought a book to read, but then I realized there were better things to do.
It is now 10:00 P.M. and we are getting very tired. Still the endless drone of the engine arid the swish, swish as cars pass by in the other direction. Heads start nodding onto tired shoulders. One woman sits with her head resting on the seat and a warm traveling rug over her legs. It is easy to tell that she has made this visit before. My eyes begin to close as I, too, lapse into that uncomfortable halfway stare that is neither sleep or consciousness, and the endless motorway sounds are ever present.
The frequency of the villages and townships tell me that we will soon be near to the city. By the city, I mean the city. The city of millions of people, the city of ancient buildings and modern tower blocks. The city of beauty and splendor, and the city of poverty and filth. The old capital of the Commonwealth, and the modern capital of inflation. The city of Queen Victoria, Dickens, and Florence Nightingale.
We leave the motorway and enter the endless semidetached suburbia of North London. The streets, shops, and houses soon become as monotonous as the darkened countryside. We pass the place where the bus broke down on the last visit and its occupants had to spend the night in the uncomfortable seats. People reminisce and laugh at their past troubles. And so we continue onward through the city. People unfamiliar with the city excitedly look as others point out landmarks. We pass Hyde Park corner, Buckingham Palace, Lords cricket ground, Westminster Abbey, and finally the “Old Man” himself, that most famous and historic of all rivers—the Thames. The icy blackness reflects the embankment lights and winds away into the distant darkness. Then we are through. Through the glamour of the old floodlit buildings and famous streets, the expensive hotels and statues. Now we are south of the river, into the slums. There are old buildings here also, but these are old buildings of a different kind—with boards over windows, crumbling plaster on walls, and in many places, absolutely crowded with unwilling occupants. Fortunately we soon make our way through the most depressing parts and again return to semidetached anonymity. The shops and their wares begin to look all the same, and we long for a return to the countryside, for then we know that the journey will be almost ended. The gardens become larger, and we know that soon we will be there. After almost two hours of endless buildings, the trees spring upon us with an alarming suddenness. The narrow leafy lanes of Surrey seem welcoming and quiet. We have come a long way from the pit villages and Yorkshire, and yet this seems like home too. Driving is difficult when the road is only wide enough for two cars. The last village passes by, and everyone sighs with relief. It is after midnight, and we are tired. Only four or five hours sleep and we shall have to arise and finish the last little part of the journey. Heavy heads touch pillows. The long ride has acted as a perfect sleeping pill, and eyes soon close.
Who on earth is that knocking on the door when I have just gone to sleep? 5:00 A.M! Never! I am sure it is only five minutes since I closed my eyes. We all have a light breakfast and go out to the coach. It is still dark and very very cold. The last sleepy-head is hurried out into the coach, and we yawn our way back into the narrow lane, now completely empty of any traffic. We go a little way and pass the elegant homes of the well-to-do, probably businessmen, executives, some even in the millionaire class, and all of them asleep, not able to share in our excitement. We round a bend in the lane and there it is—the London Temple! Less than a mile away, all floodlit with its white walls reflecting the light over all the countryside. We catch our breath at its beauty and secretly urge the driver to go faster so that we can be sooner inside those sacred walls. The people queue at the door, their recommends clutched in freezing fingers. I hold my recommend with that other precious piece of paper. We are here at last, my grandmother and I. Perhaps it is only her name on the paper, but she has come here this day just as surely as I.

Recently I received a letter from a young man who was serving his mission. He was almost not allowed to represent our church as a missionary because of the severe problems he got himself into as a teenager. He wrote: “Looking back, my biggest regret is not even the sins I committed—as bad as they were. Even more, I regret the time I wasted. I feel so far behind. I know that through the Atonement I have been forgiven for my sins, but there is one thing that even Jesus can’t give me back—the time I lost.”

In 1964 the Church dedicated El Centro Escolar Benemérito de las Américas, a school that served the educational, social, spiritual, and leadership needs of the members until becoming a missionary training center in 2013.11 Sister Lorena Gómez-Alvarez, who graduated from the school, says, “Benemérito helped me to discover and develop my talents and to gain a background and a knowledge of the gospel that has blessed my life. It will now help missionaries spread the gospel and will still bless people’s lives, just in a different way.”12

For a jade carving to have great value, the jade has to be one solid color. Carvings made out of perfect jade sell for high prices because it is nearly impossible to find perfect jade. The Jadeite Cabbage is green on one end and white on the other, and it has cracks and ripples. No skilled carver would waste time on such a piece of jade, until someone came along whom the Chinese call a master carver.
If this jade could talk, I can imagine the conversation it would have with this new carver. I imagine the carver picking up this piece of jade.
“What do you want?” the jade would ask.
“I am looking for jade to carve,” the carver would say.
“Then find another piece. I am of no worth. I have two different colors so intertwined that you’ll never separate them. I have cracks and ripples in me. I will never be of any worth. Don’t waste your time.”
“Oh, you silly little jade. Trust me. I am a master carver. I will make a masterpiece of you.”
What makes the Jadeite Cabbage so amazing is that this anonymous master carver used the weaknesses of the jade—the two colors, the cracks, and the ripples—to make the cabbage all the more lifelike. The opaque white part became the stem of the cabbage, and the cracks and ripples make the leaves come to life. If it weren’t for the “weaknesses” of this jade, it could not have looked so real.
Because of the beauty of this piece of art, it became a gift for one of the royalties in China and adorned the halls of beautiful Asian palaces until it ended up at the museum in Taiwan.

He also served several missionary assignments, accompanying American missionaries to other areas for proselyting. On one of these journeys, Opapo, his long-time friend Elisala, and one of two American missionaries went to the island of Manu‘a. Upon arriving they found that the local king, Tuimanu‘a, had forbidden anyone from receiving or assisting the Latter-day Saints in any way—the punishment for disobedience was immediate stoning. However, the missionaries were determined to succeed and stayed for two months, eating fallen coconuts from the beaches and sleeping each night in holes. They covered their heads with leaves to protect themselves from the mosquitoes, each one taking a turn nightly to help the others arrange their leaves and then unassisted himself, suffering from bites the rest of the night.
After several weeks of this grueling ordeal, Opapo was awakened by the smell of some freshly baked food in a nearby basket. The missionaries did not know whether through a human or a divine source; but after weeks of coconuts, they were profoundly grateful. Near the end of their stay the incident was repeated when an elderly woman brought them some food, saying that if she had to die for her kindness, she would, but she did not fear Tuimanu‘a.
A few weeks later, after exhausting every possible avenue, the missionaries prepared to depart. Ceremonially, Opapo and Elisala spoke directly to Tuimanu‘a and his people, warning them that they would feel the wrath and power of God if they did not repent. As his last act before boarding the longboat, Opapo paused at the edge of the village and dusted off his feet as a witness against the island. A couple of weeks later a devastating hurricane struck the island, killing many, destroying all of the crops above ground, and leveling every house except one—the fale (hut) in which lived the elderly lady who had helped the missionaries.
It is true that miracles strengthen the faith of believers but do not necessarily give faith to the unbelieving. It was not until 1974 that a branch was actually organized in Manu’a. On the other hand, the Saints to whom Opapo returned heard of the incident and increased in faithfulness.

Across from Indian Shore Luke, a young white boy, needed the help of the ancient Princess Weetonawammet, the last survivor of the Wampanoag nation. In return, he earned a gift for the princess and her people, and in so doing he also earned the name she bestowed upon him, Chasatonga—Little Big Man.Barbara Robinson10–15 years

A nonmember father whose son was serving a mission was asked, “Will you be baptized on Father’s Day?” He was baptized, with four former bishops of his family in attendance.

I was much interested in the short treatment “Handwriting Analysis” [January FYI section], which received its impetus from my master’s thesis and which received further comment in May “Feedback.” The purpose of my thesis was to explore the relationship between a few specific strokes of handwriting and specific personality characteristics as measured by personality inventories, using college students as subjects. As you accurately reported, the findings were negative; however, this study by no means negates the whole field of handwriting analysis. In fact, as a result of research related to my thesis, I am more convinced than ever that one’s personality is definitely expressed in one’s handwriting and that a learned and skilled graphoanalyst can tell a good deal about an individual’s behavioral and emotional tendencies from a page or two of handwriting. However, I feel that additional unbiased experimentation is needed in order to clarify the entire field.
Richard B. BirdMidvale, Utah

When my wife, Kathy, and I were in Africa a few weeks ago, we visited Mbuji-Mayi, Democratic Republic of the Congo. Because the chapel was not large enough for the 2,000 members, we met out of doors under large plastic coverings supported by bamboo poles. As the meeting began, we could see dozens of children watching us, clinging to the bars on the outside of the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property. Kathy quietly whispered, “Neil, do you think that you might want to invite the children to come in?” I approached District President Kalonji at the podium and asked him if he would welcome the children outside the fence to come join us inside.
To my surprise, with President Kalonji’s invitation, the children not only came but came running—more than 50, perhaps 100—some with tattered clothes and bare feet but all with beautiful smiles and excited faces.
I was deeply moved by this experience and saw it as symbolic of our need to reach out to the youth who feel alone, left behind, or outside the fence. Let us think about them, welcome them, embrace them, and do everything we can to strengthen their love for the Savior. Jesus said, “Whoso shall receive one such … child in my name receiveth me.”14 In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.