Gospel Story Finder

In the early ’90s, before Melbourne had a temple, our stake hired a bus once a month to take us to the Sydney Australia Temple.

In preparation, I would ensure my visiting teaching was done. One Tuesday evening before a Friday bus trip, my companion and I visited one sister. As we sat chatting, her husband came into the lounge, and I felt to ask him for a priesthood blessing.

In that blessing, he said that two of the sisters whose work I would do in the Sydney Australia Temple would come and thank me in the celestial kingdom, which of course, was very nice to hear.

The next day, I received a phone call and was told that the bus wasn’t going to the temple on Friday.

I thought, “Oh dear, what am I to do?” I rang my friend, Bev, who always went on the bus, and she confirmed that the bus trip was cancelled.

I suggested that we hire a little bus for a few of us to go, but she didn’t want to do that.

“What about these two sisters?” I thought, recalling the words in the priesthood blessing I’d received. “I have to get to Sydney somehow!”

I worked on Fridays for a lady who owned a home in Ivanhoe for people with special needs. I did a lot of cooking and was responsible for all the meals there, which needed to be served exactly on time. The day before we were meant to bus to the temple, 24 ladies were to have dinner at 5:00 pm. I needed to have them fed and everything cleared away by 5:25pm so that I could get to the travel agency and book my airline ticket to Sydney.

Throughout the day, whenever I had a chance, I kept ringing the travel agent hoping to secure a ticket but to no avail. Anne, the travel agent, said to me at one point, “Give up, Bev.”

Well! That was like waving the red flag at the proverbial bull!

I managed to clear the evening meal and ring the bell and by 5:25 pm, with my bag in hand, I was waiting at the front door ready to leave—then off I went in my car to the travel agency.

Fortunately, another client was booking an overseas trip, so the office was still open when I arrived at 5:35 pm. The agent who assisted me looked at the screen and said, “I don’t think you’re going to find a flight.”

I stood there, smiled, and waited, and then she said, “Hang on. There is still one left.”

I said, “Thank you,” paid for my ticket and raced out to my car to get to the airport as soon as I could.

I knew I was a little late getting to check-in. I apologized to the attendant and asked, “Am I okay?” She had a look, found that the plane was running 20 minutes late, then handed me my ticket and said, “Go to Gate 11.”

From the Sydney Airport, I needed to catch a train to my girlfriend’s house in Epping, which is not far from the temple. When I landed, I thought I might get a taxi to her place instead, but it was 11:00 pm by then and no taxis were available. I had to walk in the dark for nearly two kilometres.

When I finally arrived at her home, I saw there were no lights on I had to carefully make my way down the dark driveway, lugging my suitcase, one step at a time, to knock on the door.

My friend had thought I wasn’t coming because I’d forgotten to tell her about the mayhem I had been through, but all is well that ends well.

I was able to do the work for those two sisters, and I often think of the time when I will greet them in the celestial kingdom of God.

One day at school, some classmates said Mormons don’t believe in God. I told them we do. The next day I brought in some pass-along cards that had a picture of Jesus on the front and the Articles of Faith on the back. When my classmates looked at the picture and read some of our beliefs, they were happy to know we do believe in God.

Recently, the New Era visited with elders and sisters at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. Here’s what a few of them had to say about their own decisions and reasons to serve.
Elder Johnson: “My dad would always encourage me to do what I could to have missionary experiences. Recently I was able to help teach a family which came into the Church. And I wanted to have that happen again and be part of the Lord’s work and help bring people to Christ.”

The simplest of instructions may reveal the tendency to murmur. I attended a meeting once when the presiding authority invited members of the congregation to come forward in the meeting room. A few stirred. Most did not. Why not?
I feel sure there were those who questioned why they should leave their comfortable position. “Why should I?” That question was, no doubt, followed promptly by an excuse or rationalization as to why it should not matter whether the seat was changed or not. I believe there followed some irritation that the presiding authority should make such a request. The last step, obvious to all who observed, was slothfulness in responding. Few moved. Was that a small thing? Yes. But it reflected a deeper, more profound lack of willingness to obey. It reflected a spirit of disobedience. That is not a small thing.

I love to knit and crochet. As a service missionary, I’ve been trying to find ways to use my talents to serve others. I’ve enjoyed making sweaters for dogs of my family and friends to keep them warm this season. I am currently working on a sweater to give to a friend for Christmas. I also teach my friends to crochet, which has been a fun way to spend time together.
Star Passey, Returned Service Missionary

Ten minutes before sacrament meeting
The chapel is empty
Except for the bishop’s family
And the organist.
In the quiet chapel
The organist worships
With her fingers,
Bringing forth
Prayers of notes
That fill the silence
With a peace
That eludes the minds
of chattering children
But reaches to the depths
Of a troubled soul.

“We built this lemonade stand to use in the summer, but Christmastime is a perfect opportunity to use it to give people cookies and hot chocolate! I feel closer to my Savior when I find creative ways to serve others.”
Brooklyn H., Alberta, Canada

One day after school, Vernon rode his horse from house to house collecting the milk money for the past two weeks. At each house he put the money into a leather pouch that he hung on the saddle.
When he got close to home, he realized the leather pouch was gone. He looked on the ground around his horse to see where it had fallen, but he couldn’t find it.
Vernon got on his horse again and rode back up the road. He rode all the way back to town searching for the leather pouch, but he couldn’t see it anywhere. As the sun began to set, he rode his horse up and down the dirt road two more times. Still he couldn’t find the money.
As it got dark, Vernon knew his parents would expect him home soon. He also knew that the milk money was all his family had to buy food for the next two weeks. He felt sick to his stomach as he thought about going home without the money. He just couldn’t go home until he found it.
Vernon thought he might get into trouble for losing the money. For a moment he thought about hiding so he wouldn’t get into trouble. But he knew that would only cause his parents to worry. Then he remembered that you should pray to Heavenly Father when you need help. Vernon got off his horse and knelt down at the side of the road. As he prayed, he explained that he had lost the money and couldn’t find it. He asked Heavenly Father to help him find the leather pouch before it got too dark to see.
When he finished praying, Vernon felt that if he would walk instead of ride the horse, he would find the money. But the sun was going down and Vernon knew this was his last chance to look before it got dark. If he rode his horse he could go faster, he thought to himself. But once again, he felt he should walk.
Leading his horse by the reins, Vernon began walking back toward town. As he walked, Vernon looked everywhere—behind weeds and rocks and in old, dried-up mud puddles.
Then, about halfway to town, Vernon kicked a large tumbleweed. There on the road where the tumbleweed had been sitting was the leather pouch. A few of the coins were spilled on the ground. As Vernon gathered the coins, he could see that all of the money was still there.
Vernon knew that if he had ridden his horse down the road again, he would have missed the leather pouch and it would have been too dark to look again. He knelt by the side of the road and thanked Heavenly Father for helping him find the leather pouch.
When Vernon got home, he told his mom and dad about how he had lost and found the money. He told them that he had prayed and had felt that he should walk instead of ride his horse. That night, Vernon and his family knelt together in prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for helping Vernon find the milk money.

“What’s this?” I said to myself as I walked into my bedroom and saw a vase and flower on the dresser. It was a bud vase of green glass, with a yellow ribbon tied around it. It held a red velvet rose made with obvious care and skill.
I knew my 15-year-old daughter, Ellen, had made flowers like this before, usually for friends or to give away as presents. But why would she be giving one to me? Though we rarely quarrel, she and I had quarreled earlier in the day, and the storm clouds between us had not yet evaporated.
And what was this—a note addressed to me? I opened it and read:
“Dear mom this may seem like a small thing to give, and it may only be a copy of the real thing, but it still has the beauty of a real rose. This rose isn’t real though, and that’s on purpose. Because real roses die. But this one will always be alive. And so will the love I have for my mother. Even though it sometimes seems that I don’t love you, I do.
“Just like when there’s dust on the rose and you blow it away and everything seems new, the same is true when we’re upset. Blow the dust away and our love shines clean and new. I love you, mom. I always will.”
Tears dropped down my cheeks. My heart shamed me for not having been the first to apologize. But Ellen had beaten me to it. She had more than cleared the static between us. She had given me a gift of love.
We still disagree occasionally, but now we both know how superficial that dust on our relationship is, and we have learned to quickly blow it off. After we have, then, with warmth and tender appreciation, I walk into the bedroom and blow the dust off my velvet rose, too.

Kim Ho Jik was the first Korean to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was born April 16, 1905, to Confucian* parents in P’yöngyang Province. As a young boy, he yearned to find the true religion, and he began attending many different church services. He joined the Presbyterian Church in 1925 and was very active, but something still seemed to be missing from his life.

At the same time, George worked to improve the musical activities of the Church in England. He directed a London Conference choir, earning it such a high reputation that it was invited to perform at several of London’s leading concert halls.

Katie Patterson, 12, and Ingrid Millard, 13, were buddies to Kathy. She, too, is wheelchair bound with cerebral palsy and severe retardation. A lack of vital brain chemicals causes her to bite herself. For this reason, her arms were strapped to boards.
“I was scared at first,” said Katie Patterson. “But after I pushed her around for a while I wasn’t scared anymore. She’s nice.”
Ingrid Millard agreed. “We take her to see everything.”
What does Kathy think? Well, she had a big smile, which is her way of telling the world she’s happy.

We also served for three years in the Pacific Islands. It is significant that almost 25 percent of all the Polynesians in the world are members of the Church. Their faith and spirituality are legendary. Sister Cook and I were in Vava‘u in the Tongan islands on one occasion. I had just spoken about following the prophet in the general session of stake conference. At the luncheon following the conference, I sat next to a distinguished elderly patriarch. He indicated how grateful he was to hear what the prophet was teaching. He gave me the following account. Vava‘u, which is a relatively small island, usually has sufficient rain, but periodically there are severe droughts. The island has long inlets or bays, almost like sounds, which curl into the island below steep hills. When drought conditions left the village without water, there was only one way they could obtain fresh water and stay alive. Over the centuries they had found that fresh water traveled down through rock formations inside the mountains and came up in a few spots in the sea.

The Tongan men would set off in their small boats with a wise elder standing at one end of the boat looking for just the right spot. The strong young men in the boat stood ready with containers to dive deep into the seawater. When they reached the appropriate spot, the wise man would raise both arms to heaven. That was the signal. The strong young men would dive off the boat as deep as they could and fill the containers with fresh springwater. This old patriarch likened this lifesaving tradition to the living waters of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the wise man to God’s prophet here on earth. He noted that the water was pure, fresh, and, in their drought condition, lifesaving. But it was not easy to find. It was not visible to the untrained eye. This patriarch wanted to know everything the prophet was teaching.

Olivia hung her head as she listened to the excited whispers of the girls sitting behind her on the bus.
“I’m so glad your mom said you could get off at my bus stop with me! Did you bring the games?”
“I’ve got them. My mom let me bring a bag of popcorn too!”
Olivia frowned into the book she was reading. Didn’t they know she could hear them? She definitely didn’t like listening to her two friends make plans for something she wasn’t invited to.
Stephanie, Rebecca, and Olivia had been friends for a long time. They used to do everything together. But when the new school year started, Stephanie and Rebecca found out they had the same teacher, while Olivia was in a different class! Olivia remembered the sad feeling she had in her stomach as the two girls eagerly talked about sitting next to each other in class and eating together at lunch. She had that same sad feeling now.
The bus rolled to a stop in front of Rebecca’s house. Olivia watched miserably from the window as the girls jumped off the bus and ran to the front yard.
By the time the bus finally reached Olivia’s stop, she could barely hold the tears back. She hurried into the house.
“How was school?” Mom asked.
Olivia started crying. “It was awful! Rebecca and Stephanie barely even talk to me anymore, and we were supposed to be best friends forever!” she sobbed.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia. It can be hard when friendships start to change,” Mom said. She paused for a moment. “Do you remember when we went to the temple to be sealed?” she asked, pointing at the picture hanging on the wall. Olivia looked and saw her family smiling in front of the temple. She had been a lot younger then, but she could still remember being with her parents and older sister, Jane, in the beautiful sealing room.
“Do you know why we worked so hard to get ready to go to the temple?”
“Because we wanted to be a family forever?” Olivia answered.
“Exactly. Even if you’re not best friends with Rebecca and Stephanie forever, you’ll still have your family as your friends forever.”
“Yeah,” Olivia said. “But it’s not the same.”
“I know your feelings are hurt,” Mom said, “but I’m glad you’re home. I have a job for you and Jane.”
Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. Instead of helping her feel better, Mom was giving her chores!
“Go put on some old clothes and meet me on the back porch. Tell Jane to come too.”
Olivia went upstairs, stomping her feet a little harder than usual, and put on her work clothes.
When the girls were dressed and outside, they saw Mom walking back from the shed. She was carrying a green can, some paintbrushes, and a wadded-up sheet of plastic. When she got to the porch, she laid down the plastic and handed each of the girls a brush.
“You’re going to let us paint something?” Olivia asked skeptically. Usually Dad did those kinds of projects.
“Yep,” Mom said. “I want the back door painted by dinner time.” And then she turned and went into the house.
The girls looked at each other for a long moment and then grinned. This could be fun. They dipped their brushes in the smooth, green paint and got to work. Olivia liked this job—it didn’t seem like doing chores at all. Jane showed her how to move her brush in long, even strokes. Soon the girls were laughing and talking. Olivia started to remember all the fun times she and Jane had spent together. She was glad she would always have her sister for a friend.
A couple of hours later the girls were covered in splotches of green paint and wearing huge smiles. Olivia carefully opened the shiny green door and poked her head inside. “Mom, we’re done with the door,” she called. “Come see how great it looks!”

Sunday: You both sat quietly as you took the sacrament to renew your baptismal covenants. You were reverent, and you remembered how important the sacrament is.

He married Louie Emily Shurtliff in the Salt Lake Temple in 1898. One year later he was called on a mission to Great Britain for two years and was loyally supported by his wife. Upon his return, the two resumed their lives together and were blessed with the births of two daughters. Sadly, during a difficult third pregnancy Louie passed away.
In his sorrow Joseph prayed, “Help me, I pray Thee, to so live that I shall be worthy to meet her in eternal glory, to be united again with her, never again to be separated. … Help me to rear my precious babies that they shall remain pure and spotless throughout their lives.”8

One day my family went sledding with my grammy and papa. We walked to an open area that was covered with several feet of fresh snow. It was really hard to walk in! My sister had a hard time walking in the snow, so my papa said, “Just walk in my footsteps.”
My sister and I started stepping in his footsteps. After a while I wanted to try to walk on my own for a bit. When I walked by myself in the snow, it was way harder!
Walking in my papa’s footsteps was easier because he already did the hard part of walking in the snow. I have a testimony that Jesus Christ already did the hardest part. If you walk in Jesus’s footsteps, your life will be easier too.

A group of young basketball players climbed aboard the bus on which I was riding. They seemed to compete with each other to see who could curse most viciously. Perhaps they had learned it from older men as they associated with them in various activities. I know they did not fully realize the seriousness of their words.

Many young people have done better than I did.
A 15-year-old son of a mission president attended high school with very few members of the Church.
One day the class was given a true-or-false test. Matthew was confident that he knew the answers to all except for question 15. It read, “Joseph Smith, the alleged Mormon prophet, wrote the Book of Mormon. True or false?”
He could not answer it either way, so, being a clever teenager, he rewrote the question. He crossed out the word alleged and replaced the word wrote with translated. It then read, “Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet, translated the Book of Mormon.” He marked it true and handed it in.
The next day the teacher sternly asked why he had changed the question. He smiled and said, “Because Joseph Smith did not write the Book of Mormon; he translated it. And he was not an alleged prophet; he was a prophet.”
He was then invited to tell the class how he knew that.

Vienna. What a magnificent, historic city, but what a huge place in which to be looking for a missionary companion! Elder Thomas Biesinger, age 39, just off the train from Germany, looked in vain for Elder Paul Hammer, who was to arrive by train about the same time. November 25, 1883. 5:30 A.M. He waited in the railroad restaurant until daylight, then walked outside the station and from an elevation looked out at the Austrian capital. He was awestruck as he thought about his difficult mission, and in his mind he conversed with Vienna:
“Thou City of Vienna, thou boasteth thyself as being one of the proudest cities of the East and the beauties of thy gardens and parks are perhaps not excelled in the world. Thou also containeth many ancient relics amongst the abode of a monarch who sways his proud sceptre over a dominion containing nearly forty millions of inhabitants.”
Vienna, he recalled, had 20 years before expelled one of the most noble and intelligent Apostles of the Restoration, Orson Pratt. “Again God has extended his mercy unto thee,” he warned Vienna in his mind, “and has inspired his servant the prophet to send to thee other messengers. One of these has just entered the city, though much inferior in wisdom and intelligence to the one thou rejected.” The lonely elder then prayed for God to have mercy on Austria, to “soften the heart of the emperor and officers of the land, that thy servants may be permitted to stay and [be] given liberty to search for the honest in heart.”
His prayer, however, would require decades for fulfillment. For Austria-Hungary, an empire old and mighty, was not a land of freedom. In order to keep its different states and nationalities from breaking away, a police state prevented anyone from preaching new ideas, political or religious.
He rented an inexpensive room with cooking facilities, then checked with the Vienna police to see if his companion had registered with them. No sign of him. Because Elder Hammer was the senior companion, Eider Biesinger did not start his actual missionary labors yet, except to enter into conversations with people he met as he went back and forth to the railway station. They finally found each other on December 3 and discovered that for a week they both had been living in different quarters on the very same street!