Gospel Story Finder

On Sunday, Brandon was confirmed a member of the Church and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. He was interviewed by his bishop, and they talked about when he would receive the priesthood. Then Brandon was introduced during priesthood meeting and met the other young men who would now become part of his life. After the confirmation, Teren went to his own ward and joined in a priesthood lesson, even though he kept his leg propped up on a chair. The rivalry game had come and gone, but the priesthood teamwork was continuing. When that happens, everyone wins.

Dad and I have never missed having breakfast together when it’s been my turn. Even when he was sick with a cold one Saturday, we still ate together. Mom helped me fix up a tray, and I took it to his room, and we sat on the big bed and ate and talked and laughed.

Just like Esther, Joseph Smith, Joseph of Egypt, and many other scriptural figures, you can have the courage to stop your friends from speaking inappropriately about others. I was going through the same situation, and I had the courage to talk to my friends in a loving and understanding way. In the end, they accepted and understood how important it is to use pure and worthy language! Besides reading the scriptures and praying, fasting helps a lot in those situations. Pray and ask with faith that our Heavenly Father will give you the courage to speak and touch the hearts of your friends.
Paola H., 17, San Salvador, El Salvador

One convert, Special Constable Frankie Png, joined the Church a little over a year ago. He says, “At first, my associates tried to make me feel uncomfortable. But I always try to be patient and encourage them to live better lives. I also encourage my Muslim friends to live their religion more fully. Most respect my beliefs now.” Because of his fine example, his mother and brother were recently baptized.

Walnetta’s musical skills strengthened as she continued to serve. She witnessed the miraculous growth of the Church in her area, and with it came the opportunity to develop her talent. In her early teens, her branch became the Auckland 5th Ward, and its new chapel featured an electric pipe organ. Walnetta had never played an organ before. “The installer handed me a pamphlet and gave me a very quick rundown—it took about fifteen minutes,” she says. It would be the only organ-playing instructions she would ever receive—but she was not fazed. “I knew the Lord would help me. I then made it my business to learn all I could and to practice, practice, practice!”

Elder Boyd K. Packer made it clear that it can in his address to the Church on the subject in general conference. (“Inspiring Music—Worthy Thoughts,” Ensign, Jan. 1974, p. 25.) He observed that we can take a well-lighted hall, with modestly dressed individuals in attendance, proper supervision and organization, and yes, even music that preaches no evil message in its lyrics, and add to this gathering music of disproportionate loudness or intensity, and we may find that the Spirit of the Lord withdraws from the activity, and those involved find themselves bereft of this great gift we have been commanded to have with us at all times. Why?

One Christmas Eve while we lived in the Philippines, my father came home early from his work as a chaplain at Clark Air Base.
“Hey, Tam,” he said, “I need you to make cookies and practice Christmas songs on your guitar. Also, gather items for Nativity costumes. We’re going to spend the evening in the brig.”
I was still angry at my parents for moving our family across the world. The last thing I wanted to do was spend Christmas Eve in a military jail. I complained but to no avail.
When we entered the brig, we were led to a stark room with chairs and a table. Soon a door opened, and my father warmly invited a group of shackled and handcuffed men into the room.
Then we sang Christmas songs, reenacted Luke 2, and enjoyed homemade treats—the same things we would have done at home. But something was different.
My adolescent heart softened that night as I witnessed the humble gratitude of those dear men. One of them, referring to our Nativity reenactment, asked, “Can I be in it too?” Others also wanted to join. Soon, additional “angels” heralded the Savior’s special birth.
Those prisoners were not where they wanted to be, and I was in a country where I did not want to be. But I knew we were seen, known, and loved by our Savior, who had also been in a place from which He humbly sought removal (see Luke 22:42). In my 16-year-old heart, I knew I was not alone.
Those men were not the only ones who wiped away tears that Christmas Eve. The life-changing event that evening was not our Christmas celebration but rather Christ’s power to lift and heal.
It’s been almost 50 years since that Christmas Eve, but it remains a sacred memory. My most special, unexpected, and glorious Christmas gift was a new heart. Everything changed for me after that.
I embraced life in the Philippines, made new friends, found ways to serve, and chose to be happy—all because of the witness I received of Jesus Christ and His powerful love that Christmas Eve in the brig.
I know that our Savior can remove the shackles from our minds and our hearts as we come to Him. He is our greatest gift.

Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles presided at the Moscow Russia Stake conference in June, as other stakes met in Saratov and St. Petersburg, Russia. He also met with members in Latvia, Estonia, and Ukraine.

Romeo P., 19, Negros Occidental, Philippines
In high school, most of my classmates invited me to drink alcohol and watch pornography. I always said no because I do what the Savior wants me to do. I remember Him and keep my covenants. Sometimes my friends and classmates do not tempt me because they already know what my religion is. Sharing our beliefs and testimony with others—especially with friends, classmates, neighbors, and family—will lessen the temptation in our surroundings. I know that by living the gospel, we can overcome the temptations in our lives.

In 1970 the first six missionaries to enter Indonesia baptized the first members, organized the first congregation, and started the process for official recognition of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Several more congregations were formed, and a mission headquarters was established in Jakarta in 1975.

When I was nine years old, my mother announced that she wanted me to learn to play the piano. I thought there were better things for a nine-year-old boy to do, like riding my horse or roaming the hills behind our home. But I did not want to disappoint my mother, so I agreed to take piano lessons.
Every week my piano teacher gave me a new song to learn. I didn’t like to practice, but every day Mother set the timer to make sure I practiced the right amount of time. After a few months, my mother suggested that I learn to play some of the Church hymns. I agreed, and together we chose a hymn and I practiced playing it before my lesson. After that, my piano teacher assigned a new hymn for me to learn every week, along with the other music I practiced.
For the next few years, I learned to play a new hymn every week. By the time I turned 12 years old, I could play most of the familiar hymns in the hymnbook.
When I was ordained a deacon, the bishop taught me about the priesthood and that one of the things a deacon did was serve others. The bishop knew I had learned to play the hymns, so he called me to be a pianist during some of our church meetings. I enjoyed playing the hymns during our meetings. It made me feel that I could make a contribution to our worship services. Even as a young boy, I felt like an important part of the Church because I knew our ward needed me.
By the time I turned 16, our family had moved to Salt Lake City. Our new bishop asked me if I would be the ward organist. I told him that I did not know how to play the organ. “Well, you can learn, can’t you?” he asked. And I said, “Yes, I guess I can.” So I taught myself to play the organ by going to the church to practice.
That calling gave me a sense of service. That wise bishop who called me knew that playing the organ in sacrament meeting would help prepare me for a mission. And later, as a missionary in Germany, I played the hymns nearly every week in small branches that did not have a pianist.
That skill I learned as a nine-year-old boy really set a pattern for my church service through my whole life. Even today, long after I have forgotten the other music I learned to play, the hymns come easily to me. I can play them just like I did as a young boy.
I will always be grateful to my mother for encouraging me and helping me learn to play the hymns. Learning to play that sacred music had a profound influence on me, and it helped me learn to serve in the Church. I think that is the lesson my mother and my priesthood leaders really wanted me to learn. They knew that the sacred music would speak to my mind and my heart, and that the words and music would become familiar friends to bless me throughout my life.

I found Ginky yesterday. Boy, was I surprised! “Mom!” I shouted. “I found Ginky!”
Mom wasn’t surprised at all, and she told me a story: “When you were a tiny baby and round all over, your daddy brought you this blanket. He held you and the blanket in one arm and said, ‘Blanket, blanket,’ lots of times. You said, ‘Ginky.’ Dad smiled and said, ‘Blanket.’ Both of you were talking about the same thing.”
I had to laugh at that.
“Pretty soon,” Mom went on, “we all got used to calling your blanket Ginky, the way you did. ‘Here’s Ginky,’ your daddy or I would say, or ‘Won’t you let us wash Ginky just once, real quick?’ But you never wanted Ginky to be washed.”
“I didn’t want Ginky swooshing around in all that soap,” I told her.
Now Ginky smells kind of stuffy and dusty from being in the drawer so long. Ginky used to be soft. I remember stroking my cheek with Ginky and wrapping it around my arm (the one with the good-tasting thumb) before I went to sleep.
At first Ginky had a satin edging that I could curl around my fingers. I could make a scratchy noise on it, too, with my fingernail. But the satin is almost all worn off now.
Lots of babies have blankets. But there isn’t another Ginky.
You know, I took Ginky to bed with me last night—just for remembering. I didn’t really need to. I tried wrapping Ginky around my arm. I tried scratching the worn-out satin. I even tried sucking my thumb.
But my thumb just doesn’t taste good anymore. After a while, I got all tangled up in Ginky. I wanted to go to sleep, so I folded Ginky carefully beside me. “Good night,” I said.
This morning Ginky was still there, looking kind of raggedy on my pillow. I packed Ginky away in my special box. Mom says that when I’m a big person, we’ll open my box and look at all the things I saved as I was growing up.
My picture album and my doll without any hair and a drawing I made of a fire engine were in my box already. I think Ginky belongs there with those other things.

Within the next three or four months, over four hundred young men holding the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood will be going to Hawaii for employment in the pineapple fields. I am quite sure none of them solicited this job. How, then, did they obtain it? Last year some of our young men found employment with this same firm. Their conduct and performance were so outstanding, the company this year wants four hundred of the same kind. I hope these four hundred young men are present in this priesthood meeting. Each one carries the reputation of the holy priesthood on his shoulders. If they honor their priesthood, they will be honest in all their dealings. They will be men of integrity, totally dependable. If they do this, they will bring honor to themselves, their families, their church, and their God. Certainly their Father in heaven will be proud to acknowledge them as his sons.

I was raising our children in the Church, but within a few years, our children decided they would rather spend Sundays boating with their dad than attending church with me. I was devastated. One day in 1975 I talked to my stake president and told him that I had decided I needed to leave the Church because it was breaking up our family. He patiently listened and said, “Do what you must, but be sure that your Father in Heaven approves.” So I went home and fasted and prayed. That was the second memorable prayer. The answer that came was the impression that I was the link in the gospel chain for my family; if I broke that link, everyone would be lost. I knew the answer came from God, so I committed to never leave the Church. And I never did.

Not long ago we invited two sister missionaries over for lunch. After we finished eating, we asked them to leave a spiritual thought with us. They were well prepared and introduced a scripture reading and marking exercise to us. They had brought a fresh copy of the Book of Mormon and a set of colored pencils. We accepted the invitation of the missionaries. Since then, our daily Book of Mormon family scripture reading has changed. In every chapter we mark with different colors the passages related to Jesus Christ as we discover them. Every time, this little exercise reminds us of our missionaries.
When the missionaries presented this, we immediately recognized it as a scripture study exercise suggested in Preach My Gospel. As a family, we are so thankful for this great and powerful missionary tool.

The incident made news headlines around the world. A Latter-day Saint missionary had fallen off a 230-foot (70-m) cliff in Australia—and lived! That’s like falling from the top of a 23-story building.
Sometimes a miracle can be told in a single sentence. But for Elder Matthew Weirich—the missionary who fell—every detail of his story testifies to him that the Lord has a plan for his life that he has not yet completed.
Elder Weirich, from Fredricksburg, Texas, had just three months left of his missionary service in the Australia Sydney South Mission. On a preparation day in June 2004, Elder Weirich and three other missionaries got permission to visit a local park to see some of the animals unique to Australia. On the way back from the park they saw a sign pointing to the Grand Canyon lookout. It was close by, so they decided to stop and see what the Grand Canyon looked like in Australia. It is at this point that Elder Weirich’s memory of the day ends. Days later, in the hospital, he had to ask his companions what happened next.
The group had walked to the lookout and then followed marked paths below the lookout to some caves. The path had some crude rock steps back up to the lookout, and one of the missionaries lost a shoe that had been loosely tied. The shoe rolled partway down an incline. From his position Elder Weirich could see that the shoe was caught in a bush just a few steps from the path. It seemed easy to retrieve, and he offered to get it. His companions said that Elder Weirich called out that he had the shoe. Then they heard the noise of sliding rocks. Since they couldn’t see Elder Weirich, they didn’t know what had happened. But when he no longer answered their calls, they were afraid he had fallen.
The three missionaries looked as far over the cliff edges as they dared, then prayed and went looking for a cell phone to call the police. They heard a car door slam in the parking lot and ran to ask the man who had just arrived if he had a phone they could borrow. He did, and they called 000, the emergency number.
An hour later a rescue squad arrived just as darkness was falling. It was turning cold, and the heat-seeking helicopter flying overhead could find no sign of Elder Weirich. Everyone was afraid there was no longer a survivor to rescue.
But they were wrong.
At dawn the next day searchers made their way to the bottom of the cliff. They found Elder Weirich, alive but semiconscious. They carefully loaded him into a stretcher and flew him out by helicopter. He was taken to the hospital, where the medical staff expected to work on someone with many broken bones and other serious injuries. It turned out Elder Weirich had some swelling in his brain, but the only broken bones were his nose and two small fractures above his eye, all of which were left alone to heal.
Looking back, Matt lists the miracles that helped him survive.
Before his mission, Matt had been a pole-vaulter. In fact, he was a national champion in high school and was planning on going to college on a track scholarship. Perhaps—although Matt can’t remember exactly what he did while falling—his training took over and helped him adjust as he fell so he landed in a way that reduced his injuries.
At the top part of the cliff he hit several ledges that slowed him down, evidenced by the scrapes and cuts on his arms, before he took the final 90-foot (27-m) free fall.
The weather had been below freezing every night. But on the night he spent at the bottom of the cliff, the temperature was 10 degrees warmer than usual and did not dip below freezing.
He crawled a few feet after he landed, his head ending up downhill, which may have helped maintain good circulation to his injuries.
He was rescued by experts and given excellent medical care.
His survival story created great interest throughout Australia. Suddenly people everywhere wanted to talk to missionaries. Doors were opened. Many people wondered why this apparent miracle had happened and were asking searching questions about God and the Church this missionary represented.
Matt found other blessings from this experience. He says, “This whole event has brought me closer to my family and has helped me understand the value of life. It is more than just living day to day or thinking that you’ll be able to make up for mistakes later.
“I have stopped asking why. I’m now asking, ‘What can I learn from this?’ All I know is that I was an instrument in the Lord’s hands. I have seen some of the effects on other people. I’ve come to the conclusion that the Lord has things for me to accomplish. When temptations come my way, I realize that I wasn’t saved to fall into sin. I have to remember that the Lord has a plan for us all.”
Matt Weirich has returned from his mission. He has recovered and is a pole-vaulter on the track team at Brigham Young University, where he continues his studies.

Like most boys from Whitney, “T” had outstanding parents. His mother was noted for her sense of humor and sunny disposition. She had a unique gift for teaching a boy without criticizing him. One day on the way home from school, “T” took exception to the way his cousin George was treating Joe, “T’s” younger brother.

“I finally said, ‘If you do that once more, I’ll hit you.’ He went on teasing Joe, and as a result we got into a fight. We had quite a struggle in the dirt as well as on our feet, and I made George’s nose bleed.

“It finally ended, and George went home as we did. When I arrived home Mother noticed the blood on my hands and on my shirt and asked what had happened. Of course, I explained. She didn’t chastize me for defending my younger and smaller brother, but she did say, ‘T,’ I was going to bake some bread, but I’m right out of yeast. I want you to go over to Aunt Lulu’s (George’s mother) and get some.’ I said, ‘Mother, don’t ask me to do that after I’ve had this fight with George.’ She said, ‘That makes no difference. I need the yeast and I want you to go to your Aunt Lulu’s and get the start.’”

In having to go to his aunt’s home and face his cousin George, “T” learned more about settling disputes than a lecture could have taught him.

A family home evening doesn’t need to be at home to be memorable. Lyubov Salimova of the Donetsk Ukraine District shares a special family home evening she experienced while vacationing at the seashore. Her sister, who lived nearby, had invited her to family home evening at 8:00 p.m. “Much to my surprise, however, long before the appointed hour, my sister met me at the seashore. ‘It won’t work out at home,’ she explained. She tried to smile, but the smile came out wry and forced. I felt that she was doing her best not to start crying. She was having problems at home. Her suggestion to have family home evening right there on the seashore was surprising in its absurdity. All around, people were walking, sitting, sunbathing, and laughing. Nevertheless, I agreed.
“We placed our towels across from each other and lay down on them. We bowed our heads and prayed. My sister had the July 2002 Liahona, in which general conference talks were published. She began reading a talk by President Gordon B. Hinckley. It seemed that each of his words explained to us how to conduct ourselves in relation to other family members. As we read the words of our living prophet, I saw that my sister had grown calm, having found support in the Holy Ghost, which was liberally poured out on us. We felt like beloved daughters of God, able to go farther in order to fight for good. Our souls were at peace.”

I appreciated the conference address President Dieter F. Uchtdorf gave in 201015 about the famous marshmallow experiment conducted at Stanford University in the 1960s. You will remember that four-year-olds were given a single marshmallow. If they could wait for 15 or 20 minutes without eating it, they would receive a second marshmallow. Videos have been produced showing the contortions that many children used to avoid eating the marshmallow. Some did not succeed.16

Last year the professor who conducted the original experiment, Dr. Walter Mischel, wrote a book in which he said the study grew in part out of his concerns about self-control and his own addiction to smoking. He was particularly concerned after the U.S. Surgeon General’s report of 1964 concluded that smoking caused lung cancer.17 After years of study, one of his professional colleagues reported that “self-control is like a muscle: the more you use it, the stronger it gets. Avoiding something tempting once will help you develop the ability to resist other temptations in the future.”18

One more example. This one really happened.
I remember sitting in my elders quorum meeting several years ago, enjoying a lesson based on “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” At one point in the lesson a member of the quorum read part of the proclamation. The instructor was about to move forward with the lesson when another quorum member raised his hand. “I have a question,” he said. Quoting a phrase that had just been read, he asked, “How can we teach our children ‘to love and serve one another’?” The expression on his face and the sound of his voice revealed that this was more than just a question—it was a plea for help. I was grateful that he asked because he expressed a plea that was in my heart as well.
This heartfelt question changed the pace of the lesson. Our teacher put his lesson plan aside temporarily. Quorum members paused to think, and some shared ideas and experiences in response to their friend’s question. Then the teacher shared an insight of his own and continued with the lesson, focusing on other truths in the proclamation. The discussion lasted only a few minutes, but it continues to influence my family and me.
Doctrine and Covenants 18:34–36 and 88:122 came together in that quorum meeting. The process began with a teacher who was humble and wise enough to invite us to read the words of the prophets. It continued when a quorum member had the courage to ask a question—to ask for help. Then, as different men with different backgrounds spoke one at a time, “all [were] edified of all.” I testify that by the power of the Holy Ghost, I heard the Lord’s voice that day—first through His prophets and second through my neighbors and friends. And I went home knowing the word of the Lord better than I had the day before.