Gospel Story Finder

We have just enjoyed two special events in our family this year. The first was the privilege of participating in a priesthood ordinance as our first grandson received the Aaronic Priesthood. How proud I was of Terry as he presented himself fully prepared for this occasion.
The second was just a few weeks ago when a new little granddaughter was blessed. As the circle formed, I looked down on bright, beautiful, little Cami and thought how precious and sweet she is.
On both occasions I listened to beautiful blessings pronounced by my two sons-in-law. They were blessings of love, gratitude, faith, understanding, and hope, using the power of the priesthood, which each is worthy to hold.
In the circles which were formed to participate in these events were relatives who had made a great effort by traveling many, many miles over snow-covered roads to be with us for these occasions.

As the conference drew to a close, it was time for testimonies. It was while sharing thoughts and feelings that youth at the conference found the way to close the last remaining gaps among them. They found that they truly cared about each other. They discovered they understood each other’s pains and triumphs. There was a common bond that would last.

I first learned the names of the ancient and modern apostles in Primary. My mother was one of my teachers. I am certain that never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that any of those whom she taught would one day sit in the council of the special witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ.

My dear penpal who lives in Ogden, Utah, gave me a year’s subscription to the New Era for my birthday. That was the most wonderful present I’ve ever had. The New Era is a very valuable magazine. When I read it, I realize that English-speaking members are doing the same things we’re doing, feeling the same spirit we’re feeling, and teaching the same principles of the gospel we’re teaching. This recognition strengthens my testimony that this is the true gospel of Jesus Christ. Whether in English or in Japanese, the testimony we bear is just the same. God certainly lives. Kami wa masani ikitamo.

… There came into the office a while ago a man who wanted to take a car to his son in the mission field. He said, “My son is riding a bicycle and I am afraid he is going to get killed. Can I take a car to him?”
I said, “You can if the mission president feels he needs one.”
Correspondence went back and forth, and finally approval was given for the young man to have a car. The father came in after he had taken the car and said, “I’m proud of my boy in the field. We had never been very close when he was at home. There had always been something of a gulf between us. I want to tell you what happened.
“I drove a thousand miles to deliver the car to my son. I went to his place of lodging and rang the bell. He came to the door, and said, ‘Hello, Dad. Glad to see you. Is that the car? I’m late for a meeting. If you can come around at eight o’clock tonight down at such and such an address where we are having a baptismal service, maybe I’ll have a few minutes to visit with you.’
“I hadn’t seen him for sixteen months and that’s the kind of reception I got. I felt like getting in the car and driving back home. But I went out, had some dinner and took a little nap and thought better of it. I went to the hall where the baptismal service was held. My boy was the supervising elder of the district.
“I arrived late and sat on the back row. They had just finished the baptismal service and were having something of a testimony meeting. A man stood up and said, ‘I’m retired. I’ve made some money. I’ve traveled around the world. I thought I had seen everything and had everything. Then one day that young man who is sitting here came to my door. Time was heavy on my hands; I let him in; I listened to him. He intrigued me, and I listened again. He has brought something to me more wonderful than all I have ever seen or all I have ever known. And I want to bear testimony to the truth of what he brought, and before you people here, express gratitude of the Lord for having sent him to my door.’
“He was talking about my boy. I am not a sentimental sort of a man, but the tears began to roll off my cheeks. I’ve come closer to my boy in one day in the mission field than I came in twenty years at home. I have concluded to be a better man myself. I have changed my life so that I may be worthy of my son.”
Gordon B. Hinckley“The Consequences of Conversion,”BYU Speeches of the Year, January 28, 1959, pp. 3–4.

My Hopping Bunny by Robert Bright. New York: Doubleday and Co., Inc., 1960. A hopping bunny travels with his new owner, hopping higher and higher everywhere they go. When the bunny finally hops clear out of sight, he knows he has hopped too high.

Gary watched his brother Geof giving directions to their two younger brothers. Geof was waving his hands excitedly and talking very fast. Gary could not see all Geof was saying, but he caught the enthusiasm and excitement of his brothers.
Dad had taken Mother to the hospital earlier that morning, and the boys could hardly wait for him to come home and tell them about their new baby sister. They were sure the baby would be a girl, that she would be soft and pink, and they would call her Tammy.
Gary was sure he would love her at first sight. Sometimes his stomach would get all tight inside just thinking about having a baby sister at home to laugh with and to love.
Gary watched closely as Geof stood directly in front of him and carefully repeated what he had been saying. “When Tammy comes to live with us,” he said, “we’ll have to keep our trucks and bicycles out of the way so she won’t get hurt, and we can’t throw balls in the house, and we can’t yell too loud when she’s sleeping. Isn’t that right?”
Gary nodded enthusiastically.
At an important time like this, Gary wished he could talk and hear like everyone else. Sometimes it was hard being deaf, but he tried not to show his frustration.
Gary was learning to read at the school for the deaf, and he could use his fingers when talking in class. But at home his family spoke carefully and directly to him so he could lip-read what they said. With their patient help, he was learning to sound out many words so they could understand him.
Geof usually took charge of the brothers whenever Dad and Mother were away even though Gary was older. And Gary was usually glad because he knew that Geof was a good leader.
Gary was certain that it would be different with Tammy. He wanted to help take special care of her. He wouldn’t mind doing anything at all to help her and make her happy.
Gary and his brothers gave Geof their full attention as they made plans for their new little sister.
It was almost evening before Dad came home. The boys were keyed to a high pitch after the long wait.
They crowded around Dad.
“What does she look like?” Kent asked.
“How much does she weigh?” Karl questioned.
“Does she have dark hair? How long before we can see her?” Geof wanted to know.
Gary looked at his father soberly, “Is she all right?”
Father bent down and gathered his four sons into his long arms and said huskily, “The baby is all right. It weighs almost ten pounds and has dark hair and beautiful dark eyes and looks like Mother. But the baby is a boy.”
“A boy,” Karl said in disbelief.
“But what about our sister? We already have boys,” said Geof.
Gary looked up into his father’s face and smiled. “But if he’s okay, that’s all that matters,” he said with rapidly moving fingers. “When can we see him?”
A few days later Mother came home with the new baby. Gary took just one long look at his red wrinkled face, little clenched fists, and thin kicking legs, and he loved him immediately. Gary let the baby’s fingers curl around his own big finger. He liked the tight way the baby held on.
Here is someone, Gary thought, who can use some special help from me.
The family decided to name the baby Tommy.
Each night while Mother prepared dinner, Gary sat in the big rocker crooning softly to Tommy. Gary felt sure the baby understood him, and he was happier than he had ever been before.
All day long Gary looked forward to this hour before dinner when he could hold Tommy and put into song all the things he felt and had never before been able to say.
One day in school Gary’s teacher said, “I hear something special has happened at your house. Would you like to tell us about it?”
Gary went to the front of the class and began to describe his new baby brother. His fingers couldn’t move fast enough to tell all the wonderful things he felt about Tommy.
That night when Gary went home, he sat down in the big rocker as he did each evening. As he held the baby, Gary tried to sing all the things he had told his classmates. But Tommy was not feeling well. He wriggled and squirmed and cried even though Gary tried to quiet and soothe him.
Finally Mother said, “Perhaps Tommy needs to lie on his stomach. I’ll put him back in his crib for a while.” She took the baby from Gary, and soon Tommy stopped crying.
Mother came back into the kitchen. Gary watched her for a few minutes, and then he quietly went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Even Tommy doesn’t like my singing, Gary thought. He must know I have no real words ever to give anyone. And suddenly all the hidden hurt of a lifetime was inside of him and Gary began to cry. Once the tears started, he couldn’t stop them.
For a long time Gary stayed inside the bathroom, but finally he washed his face, opened the door, and went out to have dinner with the family. Mother gave him a quick hug as he sat down at the table, and Dad gave Gary one of his special smiles.
Later that night when the dishes were done and everything was put away, Gary went to bed in the room he shared with Kent, but he couldn’t get to sleep. A few minutes later Mother came in carrying Tommy, who was all ready for bed and wrapped in a soft blanket.
Mother bent low over Gary’s bed so he could read her lips in the soft night light. “Gary, are you still awake? I know Tommy would love to have you hold him for a few moments and sing to him. Cuddle him close and sing again the song you were singing this afternoon.”
Gary put out his arms and Mother gently put Tommy into them. Gary looked down at his little brother and held him close. Then he began to sing with all the love he had in his heart.
And Tommy seemed to understand. He looked up at Gary and smiled.

Success story number four has to do with the lion-hearted King Richard, who ruled England during the latter part of the twelfth century. Richard organized a crusade to the Holy Land to dispossess the Turks of the sepulcher. But the expedition was unsuccessful and Richard himself was captured and confined to a foreign prison. During his absence from home, traitors took over the government, and when Richard finally effected his escape and returned to England, it was necessary for reasons of his own personal security that he come disguised in plain, unmarked armor. When back in England, he quietly gathered around him a few of his faithful followers with the idea of putting England back in the hands of its rightful rulers. One of the first things he did after this little group had been assembled was to attack the castle at Torquilstone. Torquilstone was the stronghold of the enemy in which Ivanhoe, the faithful friend and follower of the King, was wounded and imprisoned.

When Ivanhoe heard the noises of assault beginning to take place outside the castle, and since he was unable to raise himself from his couch because of wounds and loss of blood, he asked his nurse, Rebecca, to stand by the window and tell him what was taking place. The first thing he wanted to know was who the leader was. And that is the most important thing that anyone needs to know about any undertaking. So he asked Rebecca to describe for him the insignia or other marks of identification on the armor of the leader and then he would know who he was and what their chances for rescue were.

But Rebecca reported back that the leader fought in plain, unmarked armor and that he had no insignia or marks of identification. Ivanhoe said, “Then tell me how he fights and I’ll know who he is.” That is, everyone has a set of traits about as characteristic as his fingerprints, and the best key to his identity is what he does. So Rebecca tried to describe this great knight clad in plain black armor as he swung his ponderous ax with thunderous blows assaulting this castle stronghold almost single-handed. And here are some of the things that she said about him. “Stones and beams are hurled down from the castle walls upon him, but he regards them no more than if they were thistledown or feathers.” Again, she said, “He fights as if there were twenty men’s strength in his single arm.” Again, she said, “It is fearful yet magnificent to behold how the arm and heart of one man can triumph over hundreds.”

I suppose that Richard’s arm wasn’t much stronger than any other warrior’s arm, but that is not where strength comes from. Rebecca had said, “The arm and heart of one man.” Richard was fighting with his heart; he was fighting for England. And when one begins to put his heart in what he is doing, then things really begin to happen.

Ivanhoe did not know who this man was. He knew that Richard fought like this, but no one fought like the King, and he believed Richard to be a prisoner in an Austrian dungeon. And then he paid this great tribute to an unknown leader. He didn’t know what this man’s name was, but he knew the traits that characterized greatness, and he said to Rebecca, “I swear by the honor of my house, I would endure ten years of captivity to fight a single day by that great man’s side in such a quarrel as this.” Captivity would have been the greatest punishment to which Ivanhoe could have been subjected, and yet he said, “I would gladly languish ten years in a dungeon cell for the privilege of fighting by the side and under the banner of a great man in a great cause.”

We made an appointment for the following Tuesday, and during the interval, my life passed before me as in a film. Until the age of twenty, I had abstained from alcohol. But then a business failure and financial difficulties sent me into a deep personal crisis, compounded by my wife’s illness and two-year convalescence in a distant hospital. I sought comfort in alcohol, and before long I began to drink quantities of strong spirits from morning until night. Add to that the 70 to 100 cigarettes I smoked daily and you can understand that my physical condition deteriorated gradually to the point where I was embarrassed about it.
At one point I entered a hospital to be detoxified, but the doctors were unable to help me and I became even more depressed. I had a good job and a wonderful family, but I needed to get out from under these vices. In desperation I abandoned myself even more completely to alcohol, at one point even attempting suicide. I tried to enter a private clinic for help, but could not afford the treatments. It was at this point that Elders Sorensen and Waterman entered my life.

Ninety-six years later a tall, well-built, rather handsome, youngish but balding man walked into a cafeteria on the BYU campus and sat down at a table where two freshmen boys were discussing the vicissitudes of college life over their roast beef dinner and green punch. He began asking them questions about their feelings, their likes, their dislikes, and their hang-ups regarding their university experience.
Finally one of the young men asked him, “Do you teach around here or something?”
“Yes, I work here,” the man replied.
“What do you do?”
“I’m president.”
“President of what?”
And so Dallin H. Oaks, president of Brigham Young University, introduced himself to these students. “I’m glad to meet you,” the young man with the questions responded. “I come to assemblies, but you’re so far away I can’t see your face.”

I sought more help and contacted a bereavement support group. Six video sessions with a counselor named Emma were transformative. I learned to open up and to be more vulnerable.

On July 20, 1969, astronauts landed on the moon, a planet located some 239,000 miles from the earth. Millions of people the world over witnessed this historic event on television and stared in amazement as the lunar module came to rest on the moon’s surface. All were thrilled when Neil Armstrong exited the spacecraft and announced: “One small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.”
The press coverage of this monumental achievement was broad. It occupied headlines and was the subject of feature stories for many days. After all, the moon landing had opened new frontiers of space travel, revealed new knowledge about the universe, and represented a major investment of human resources. Some reporters declared that the moon landing was the greatest event in the history of mankind since the resurrection of Christ.

You’re crazy, Josh. You had enough money for a new bike and then you go wacko and give a tenth of your hard-earned loot to your church.
If you didn’t want to use that money for your bike, you could’ve bought baseball cards.
If you didn’t want baseball cards, you could’ve bought a model plane.
If you didn’t want a model plane, you could’ve had a new football. This thing’s coming apart at the seams.
But no, you just gave your money away! And now what do you have to show for it?
Peace of mind? What’s peace of mind?

I would like to say thank you for a beautiful white magazine that came today, the June issue. I’ve just finished reading it from cover to cover, and I feel so full inside. In fifty-three days I’ll be married. You can’t imagine how much more I love him after reading this and how much closer I feel to my family, even though they won’t be at my wedding because of inactivity. The articles and inspiration are tremendous.
Name Withheld

He had met Bathsheba and stayed at her home on an earlier mission in 1837. He was there when she was baptized at age 15, and the 20-year-old “made provisional arrangements … the Almighty preserving us, in three years from that time, we would be married.” At that location he also preached a two-and-a-half-hour sermon just to outlast hecklers. (See “Youngest Modern Apostle,” Church News, 1950–51.)
Three years from that time, the Almighty had indeed preserved them but on opposite sides of the Atlantic. In a letter to a relative, the recently called Apostle wrote: “Tell Sister Bathsheba I have not really forgotten her. … If she is married, wish her much joy for me, and if she is single, wish her much joy with me.”
He returned to the United States in 1841, visited his parents, then went straight to the Bigler home. He and Bathsheba were married 10 days later on July 25.

Years ago Bonnie McKean Giauque won the National Wheelchair Decor Contest. This Salt Lake mother had been stricken with multiple sclerosis and had to care for her husband and five lovely daughters from a wheelchair. She decorated her wheelchair as Raggedy Ann so that children seeing her would have something to comment on besides her handicap. One fast day she confided that she and another friend, likewise handicapped, had decided, “Aren’t we lucky because we have wheelchairs?”

Alison listened eagerly as the bishop announced that their ward would be having a Christmas open house this year. “We want it to be a special evening,” he said. “It will be a wonderful opportunity to invite friends and neighbors.”
Alison loved the Christmas holidays. She liked shopping for presents for her family and friends and singing Christmas carols. And she loved reading the story of Jesus’s birth and thinking of Him as a small baby.
The bishop’s next words caught her attention. “Because of the open house, we won’t be having our traditional ward Christmas party this year.”
Alison frowned. “No party?” she whispered to her mother. The ward Christmas party was one of her favorite parts of the season.
Mom put a finger to her lips.
“Some of our friends and neighbors do not understand that we are Christians,” the bishop continued. “We want them to know that we believe in Jesus Christ.”
Alison turned her attention back to the bishop.
“The open house will focus on Jesus Christ,” he said. “We’re asking families to bring nativity sets, and we will have a live reenactment of the Nativity scene.”
As the time drew near for the open house, Alison started getting excited. Mom and Dad invited an elderly neighbor to go to the open house. Alison invited Erica.
The night of the open house, Alison helped Mom wrap both of the family’s nativity sets in newspaper. Then Mom and Dad drove her to pick up Erica.
When they got to the church, Alison and Erica looked at nativity sets from Japan, Austria, the Philippines, and many other countries.
Then the girls went outside where the young men and young women were acting out the Nativity. There were live cows, sheep, and even a nanny goat. “Everything but a camel,” Alison said.
The bishop asked everyone to gather in the chapel. Alison and Erica sat with the Primary children. The children sang “Picture a Christmas” and “The Nativity Song,” and the ward choir performed parts of Messiah.
“That was really great,” Erica said on the ride home. “I wish my parents could have come.”
“Maybe next year,” Alison said, smiling. She thought about the open house and realized she hadn’t missed the Christmas party after all.

I have to read 15 minutes every night for homework. I enjoy reading the Friend. Reading it makes me happy, and I feel good inside. I usually end up reading 20 minutes or more!

This story happened in the USA.
Bradley dumped another cup of sand into his bucket. He was going to need lots!
His school’s science fair was soon. Bradley was making a model that showed how tsunamis worked. He learned that a tsunami is a big wave of water caused by an earthquake in the ocean. He wanted his project to be perfect. Maybe he would win a prize!
When his bucket was full, Bradley gathered some sticks. Then he found a plastic bin and some small toy houses in the basement.
Bradley poured the sand into the bin to make the land. He carefully placed the houses and trees. Next came the exciting part—the water! Once he poured it in, he could push a piece of cardboard through the water to create the wave.
But then he made a big mistake. He poured in too much water! The houses were flooded—and he hadn’t even made the wave yet. The wet sand made a goopy, muddy mess.
Bradley called to his mom in the kitchen. “What should I do now? I put too much water in.”
“That’s OK. You can just start over,” said Mom. “Let’s do it together and measure a little at a time.”
“OK.” Bradley hung his head and went outside to get more sand.
This time they carefully measured the right amount of water and poured it in. Bradley moved the cardboard and watched the waves crash against the sand. It worked!
Next Bradley and Mom worked on his poster. He started writing some fun facts about tsunamis. But the words didn’t fit on the page.
“I don’t want to write it all over again!” Bradley said. His head began to ache.
“We don’t have to rewrite all of it,” said Mom. “We can just reword it so it will fit on the page.”
Bradley groaned. His poster did not look at all like he wanted it to. “I don’t want to do that. It will look bad if the words don’t fit perfectly.”
“Learning can be hard.” Mom gave him a hug. “Sometimes we make mistakes. But the important thing is that we don’t give up. Heavenly Father wants us to keep trying. So let’s take a break and finish in the morning.”
The next morning, they finished his poster. It wasn’t perfect, but Bradley felt a little better about it.
Finally the day of the science fair came. Mom dropped Bradley off at school. “Remember,” she said, “you worked hard on your project and learned a lot. And that’s what matters.”
Bradley carried his project to the big gym. It was full of projects and posters. All the fourth-graders were sitting down and waiting for their turn to show their project.
Soon it was Bradley’s turn. His heart beat fast as he walked to the front. What if everything went wrong?
Bradley pushed the cardboard through the water and showed the judges how the waves crashed against the land.
“What causes those big waves in the ocean?” one of the judges asked.
“The big waves are caused by . . .” Bradley’s mind went blank. “I can’t remember. But I can tell you some fun facts about tsunamis.” He read them the facts on his poster.
After school Bradley climbed into the car with his project.
“How did it go?” Mom asked.
“Not exactly the way I wanted.” Bradley smiled. “But I did my best and kept trying.”

Think about this next story.
In Thailand in 1955, a nearly 10-foot sculpture of a Buddha was being moved to a new building. Made of plaster and very heavy, it didn’t appear all that remarkable.
But as the statue was being lifted from its pedestal, the ropes broke and the sculpture fell to the ground. The anxious movers quickly checked the statue for damage, and to their dismay they discovered cracks in the plaster. Then a glint of color caught their attention.
Where the plaster was removed, they discovered that the sculpture was really made of gold!
Buddha statue: 9.8 feet tall, weighs 6.1 tons, worth $250 million.
Photograph from Getty Images
Apparently, hundreds of years earlier, the golden statue had been covered in plaster, perhaps to protect it from thieves, and over time the secret was forgotten until the fall revealed its true inner beauty. Today the gold alone is valued at $250 million, and the statue is housed in a building of honor as a beautiful, historic, religious work of art.2
The temple of Wat Traimit, Bangkok, Thailand.
Photograph from Getty Images