Gospel Story Finder

The Young Women of the St. Clair Branch, Dunedin, New Zealand, held a special fireside to celebrate the founding of the Young Women Organization. They performed musical numbers, gave talks, bore their testimonies, and presented a short film.

Along with the seven Young Women participating on the program were five nonmembers. The Young Women invited their parents and all members of the branch, in addition to several investigators.

A number of years ago I received a telephone call that would change my life—my eternal life.
A good sister from my ward called to invite me to perform a dance floor show number at a Mutual activity evening that was being held in a couple of weeks. Dancing was a hobby of mine, and I was studying ballroom dancing at a studio in Salt Lake City. I had never been to a youth MIA dance before, and I was excited to accept the invitation to perform.
My partner and I arrived on the appointed evening and were greeted enthusiastically. I was surprised to find that we were the only ones on the program. It was an exciting experience, and I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
The following Sunday morning, I decided to go to church in our ward for the first time since I was ordained a deacon. At that time none of my family was active. I found people who welcomed me warmly, and they demonstrated a genuine friendship and caring. These experiences started me on the road to activity and service in the Church that has been a joy to me throughout the years.
The senior Aaronic Priesthood committee, as it was called then, was a group of brethren who worked with men who were older than the normal Aaronic Priesthood age. These were just regular men who were doing what the Lord wanted them to do. They took me under their wing, and we became good friends. A wonderful returned missionary gave our class instruction. He taught the basics of the gospel and helped prepare me to serve a mission. During this same time I was asked to help teach dancing in the ward, which gave me a feeling of being needed, and it also gave me a responsibility.
The next 15 months flew by, filled with growth and happiness as I progressed. I soon received a call to serve a mission in Mexico. I quickly grew to love the language, the country, and its people. Sharing the message of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ gave me a foundation upon which to build the rest of my life.
That evening so long ago when I was invited to share my talent, the door opened to a wonderful new world of friends and activity in the Church. I am grateful for those who reached out with a warm hand of fellowship, invited me in, nurtured me, and blessed my life.

Switching locations and projects, in Santa Ana, California, the students at the institute of religion decided to celebrate Christmas with an “I Care” project. It has now grown into a year-round, community-wide effort of exciting proportions and ramifications. They called hospitals and day care centers and offered their services. The Children’s Hospital of Orange County signed them up to supervise the recreational therapy room on a four-hour shift basis. Because of the personal satisfaction in the work, so many students have signed up to help that a one-time turn is all many of them get. But young patients benefit from the big brother/big sister attention, and the hospital is overwhelmed with the caliber of college students who care.

It had been a long, disappointing day, and now Elder Cooksey and I were walking through the rain of Puerto Montt, a city in the Chile Osorno Mission. We had lost three families from our investigator pool. Two were unable—perhaps unwilling—to commit to keeping some of the commandments, while the third family felt they couldn’t leave the pastor of their current church, a man who was this family’s close, personal friend.
We knew that all three families had testimonies of the gospel, yet they were no longer interested in listening to our message. I was in the depths of despair. As we walked through the cold rain that night, I thought, What’s the use? We were struggling to share something that no one wanted to hear. I wondered what I was doing. I was in this strange country, far from family and friends, and now to make matters worse I was soaking wet.
As I dried myself after arriving home late that night, I crawled into my bed, ready to do battle with fleas. I opened the Book of Mormon at random and glanced at a page. The words of Ammon helped me find the answer to my despair.
“And we have entered into their houses and taught them, and we have taught them in their streets; yea, and we have taught them upon their hills; and we have also entered into their temples and their synagogues and taught them; and we have been cast out, and mocked, and spit upon, and smote upon our cheeks; and we have been stoned, and taken and bound with strong cords, and cast into prison; and through the power and wisdom of God we have been delivered again.
“And we have suffered all manner of afflictions, and all this, that perhaps we might be the means of saving some soul; and we supposed that our joy would be full if perhaps we could be the means of saving some” (Alma 26:29–30).
This passage brought me back to reality, and I had the answer I was looking for. That was why I was in a foreign land, and that is why we serve missions—that perhaps we might be the means of saving some soul.

For the Negrido family, helping 13-year-old Yushin prepare for his mission is a family affair. We talked to the young man from Quezon City, and he recounted how his family helps him with the various aspects of mission preparation.
““I go biking at least once a week so if I am assigned to an area where missionaries ride bikes, I won’t have to adjust anymore. My parents also enrolled me in a basketball academy where my agility and strength will be developed, and I will learn teamwork and collaboration with my teammates. We are also a family of divers and mountaineers so we climb and swim, a survival skill that might come in handy since our country is composed of many islands.””

He saw and handled the plates of gold from which the Book of Mormon was translated and testified throughout his life to the truthfulness of that sacred book. His name remained firmly affixed, with those of the other witnesses to the Book of Mormon, in the front pages of that second witness of Jesus Christ. On one occasion he was imprisoned and told he would be released if he would deny the Book of Mormon. Not only did he not deny it, but he converted two persons during his 30-day confinement.

Ronald Webster, 18, and Le Lo, his younger sister, were selected as homecoming king and princess by the student body of the American school at Esfahan, Iran, this past year. Ron, who was first-string quarterback on the Toufanian High School football team, was also picked for the inter-city all-star team. Le Lo, a sophomore at the 750-member school, is a cheerleader.
Ron and Le Lo, with their parents, are members of the Esfahan Branch of the Iran Tehran Mission. Something Ron and Le Lo have found different in Iran is that all their Church meetings are held on Friday, the local religious holiday. Similarly, fast Friday is observed on the first Friday of the Iranian month, making it about ten days earlier than fast Sunday in western countries.

During the years of my life, I have gone to my knees with a humble spirit to the only place I could for help. I often went in agony of spirit, earnestly pleading with God to sustain me in the work I have come to appreciate more than life itself. I have, on occasion, felt the terrible aloneness of the wounds of the heart, of the sweet agony, the buffetings of Satan, and the encircling warm comfort of the Spirit of the Master.

I have also felt the crushing burden, the self-doubts of inadequacy and unworthiness, the fleeting feeling of being forsaken, then of being reinforced an hundredfold. I have climbed a spiritual Mount Sinai dozens of times seeking to communicate and to receive instructions. It has been as though I have struggled up an almost real Mount of Transfiguration and upon occasion felt great strength and power in the presence of the Divine. A special sacred feeling has been a sustaining influence and often a close companion.

But singing is what he loves—though his family didn’t even know he could until he was asked to sing a solo during a Primary program one year.
“Dillon’s always been shy,” his mother says.
He did so well in the Primary program that he was asked to sing during a conference of the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Stake. After that he was hooked.
He told his mom, “One day I’m going to use my talent for God.” After he was chosen to sing on the soundtrack, he told her, “Mom, I used my talent.”

“Mom, can I ride my bike over to Jason’s house?” Zach called as he ran into his bedroom.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Just be careful.”
“OK!” Zach skidded to a stop next to his bed and grabbed his tennis shoes. When he glanced up, he saw the picture of Jesus he kept next to his baseball trophy. His grandparents had given him the picture at his baptism last month. Zach could hardly believe he was finally baptized. He thought back to that important day.
He remembered sitting in the chapel next to his dad. Both of them were dressed in white. His Primary teacher, Sister Jones, gave a talk about the Holy Ghost. She told Zach if he listened to the still, small voice he would be blessed.
Sister Jones held up a whistle. “Sometimes the Holy Ghost will warn you of danger, almost like a whistle in your mind.” Then she held up a helmet. “Following the Holy Ghost is like wearing a helmet in a dangerous world. His still, small voice will prompt you so you will be protected spiritually and physically.”
Zach had thought about the talk a lot since then. He was grateful to have the gift of the Holy Ghost. As he finished tying his shoes, he stood up and noticed his bike helmet in his closet.
“Wear your helmet,” a small voice inside him seemed to say.
Zach stood still. Is that the Holy Ghost? he wondered. OK, he thought. I’ll wear my helmet. He put it on and ran out of the room. “Bye, Mom!” he called as he ran outside.
The afternoon hurried by as Zach and Jason played pirates in Jason’s tree house. Finally Zach noticed it was getting late.
“I’d better go,” he told Jason. He picked up his bike and snapped his helmet into place again. “See you later.”
Zach pedaled carefully along the side of the street. When he came to the corner, he looked both ways, then started across the road. Just as he reached the other side, a huge blue truck raced around the corner. Suddenly it hit the back tire of Zach’s bike, knocking him to the ground.
Zach caught his breath, then carefully sat up. The road was empty, except for his twisted bike lying nearby.
Zach stood up. He was shaking, but he didn’t seem to be hurt. Then he remembered—his helmet! He reached up and felt it still fastened firmly on his head. It had protected him!
Zach picked up his bike and walked the rest of the way home. When he reached the front door, he ran inside.
“Mom, Mom!” he said, hugging her tightly, his voice shaking a little. “A truck hit my bike!”
“What?! Are you all right?” she asked.
Zach nodded. “I was wearing my helmet. I felt a still, small voice tell me to put it on before I left.”
Mom sighed with relief.
“Sister Jones was right,” Zach continued. “The Holy Ghost is real! I followed His prompting and He protected me—just like my helmet.”

Another early convert, An Chea Maline, a Cambodian who joined the Church in May 1995 and served as a branch Primary president before emigrating to Australia, recalls that for a long time she knew nothing about God. “But now I know this Church is true,” she says. “It is a bright sun for me.”

Not long ago, I had a soul-stretching experience when a loving Church leader made a very direct suggestion that I could use greater measure of a certain attribute. He lovingly cut through any distortion. That night, I shared this experience with my wife. She was mercifully charitable even as she agreed with his suggestion. The Holy Ghost confirmed to me that their counsel was from a loving Heavenly Father.

After Joseph Smith had languished in Liberty Jail for about two months, he finally cried out, “O God, where art thou?” Instead of providing instant relief, God responded, “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high.”

Joseph now understood that this bitter experience was but a dot on the eternal spectrum. With this enhanced vision, he wrote the Saints from that same prison cell, “Dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God.” Because of the Savior’s Atonement, we can have an eternal perspective that gives meaning to our trials and hope for our relief.

Moving pipe! The words filled me with dread. My thoughts turned to a few months earlier when mom had insisted that I get a summer job. In our small town, that meant pretty much one thing—moving pipe. So all summer, my cousin Scott and I were moving pipes.
On the first day of our summer job, we stood gazing across a vast landscape of green alfalfa. The 40-foot-long (12 m) pipes were linked together in a straight line that seemed to stretch out for miles. After a short training, Scott and I disconnected our first pipe. Scott lifted his end up, and cold water splashed all over my tennis shoes. We hefted the pipe through sticky mud and reconnected it at the next riser. As we walked back for the next pipe, my sloshing shoes became heavier as mud clung to them in ever-thickening layers. Eventually, the mud, water, and our own perspiration drenched our clothes and spirits.

All of our memories were refreshed during the course of the service. One friend recalled that on one occasion our Sunday School teacher invited us to bear our testimonies in class. As he sequentially called upon us, he passed over Lynn, perhaps feeling he could not respond with understanding. With all the righteous indignation Lynn could muster, he let the teacher know he expected his opportunity to express himself. Though we didn’t understand much of what he said, we felt his love and the depth of a great spirit tragically locked in a body that could not fully function. The spirit in that class was very strong!

A group of young women once asked Sister Cheryl A. Esplin what she wished she had known when she was young. Sister Esplin said that part of her answer would be that she wished she had understood the sacrament better. She said that when she takes the sacrament now, she sometimes thinks about a picture of the Savior with His arms outstretched, as if He wants to give us a hug. When we listen to the sacrament prayers and promise to follow Jesus, the sacrament can be a sacred and special time for us.

Seventy-five years ago, on February 14, 1939, in Hamburg, Germany, a public holiday was celebrated. Amid fervent speeches, cheering throngs, and the playing of patriotic anthems, the new battleship Bismarck was put to sea via the River Elbe. This, the most powerful vessel afloat, was a breathtaking spectacle of armor and machinery. Construction required more than 57,000 blueprints for the 380-millimeter, radar-controlled, double-gun turrets. The vessel featured 28,000 miles (45,000 km) of electrical circuits. It weighed over 35,000 tons, and armor plate provided maximum safety. Majestic in appearance, gigantic in size, awesome in firepower, the mighty colossus was considered unsinkable.
The Bismarck’s appointment with destiny came more than two years later, when on May 24, 1941, the two most powerful warships in the British Navy, the Prince of Wales and the Hood, engaged in battle the Bismarck and the German cruiser Prinz Eugen. Within five minutes the Bismarck had sent to the depths of the Atlantic the Hood and all but three men of a crew of over 1,400. The other British battleship, the Prince of Wales, had suffered heavy damage and turned away.
Over the next three days the Bismarck was engaged again and again by British warships and aircraft. In all, the British concentrated the strength of five battleships, two aircraft carriers, 11 cruisers, and 21 destroyers in an effort to find and to sink the mighty Bismarck.
During these battles, shell after shell inflicted only superficial damage on the Bismarck. Was it unsinkable after all? Then a torpedo scored a lucky hit, which jammed the Bismarck’s rudder. Repair efforts proved fruitless. With guns primed and the crews at ready, the Bismarck could only steer a slow circle. Just beyond reach was the powerful German air force. The Bismarck could not reach the safety of home port. Neither could provide the needed haven, for the Bismarck had lost the ability to steer a charted course. No rudder, no help, no port. The end drew near. British guns blazed as the German crew scuttled and sank the once seemingly indestructible vessel. The hungry waves of the Atlantic first lapped at the sides and then swallowed the pride of the German navy. The Bismarck was no more.1
Like the Bismarck, each of us is a miracle of engineering. Our creation, however, was not limited by human genius. Man can devise the most complex machines but cannot give them life or bestow upon them the powers of reason and judgment. These are divine gifts, bestowed only by God.
As with the mighty Bismarck, so it is with man. The thrust of the turbines and the power of the propellers are useless without that sense of direction, that harnessing of the energy, that directing of the power provided by the rudder, hidden from view, relatively small in size but absolutely essential in function.
The clock of history, like the sands of the hourglass, marks the passage of time. A new cast occupies the stage of life. The problems of our day loom ominously before us. Throughout the history of the world, Satan has worked tirelessly for the destruction of the followers of the Savior. If we succumb to his enticings, we—like the mighty Bismarck—will lose that rudder which can guide us to safety. Instead, surrounded by the sophistication of modern living, we look heavenward for that unfailing sense of direction, that we might chart and follow a wise and proper course. Our Heavenly Father will not leave our sincere petition unanswered. As we seek heavenly help, our rudder, unlike that of the Bismarck, will not fail.

Snowed In by Barbara M. Lucas Where do you live? What would you do if you were snowed in all winter? Grace and Luke live on a farm in Wyoming. This book tells what they did in the winter when they were snowed in—really snowed in! Easy to read.

Annie threw her paper airplane. It sailed up and over the gray block wall at the back of her yard. She stomped her foot and thought, Now I’m never going to get it back.
Just then, her typing-paper airplane glided back over the wall and landed by the patio. Annie grabbed the plane and ran back to the wall.
“Thank you,” she called. No one answered. “Is anyone there?” she asked. No one answered.
She threw her airplane back over the wall, sat on her swing, blocked the setting sun with a salute, and waited. Suddenly a different plane, made of newspaper, flew over the wall, through the swing chains above her head, and glided to a perfect landing in front of the sliding-glass door.
“Wow!” Annie reached for the plane. “I wish I knew how to make planes fly like—” Suddenly she stopped. The plane had a message written on one of the wings. “Hi, Amelia! From the Secret Pilot.”
Who’s Amelia? wondered Annie. Maybe the family who lived here before us had a girl named Amelia. The Secret Pilot sure can’t print very well. Her writing’s so scribbly, she couldn’t be very old. Or, it could be a boy. He sure knows how to make good airplanes. I have to find out who the Secret Pilot is.
“I’m going to ride around the block—OK, Mom?” Annie called.
“Not now, Annie. I need the table set for dinner.”
Annie chewed on her bottom lip. “May I go after dinner, please?”
“You need to wash your hair tonight,” said her mother.
Annie glanced back at the block wall. “May I please have a minute to do something before I set the table?” Her mother smiled and nodded. Annie grabbed a pen from the desk in the hall and ran back to the yard. On the other wing of the airplane, she wrote:
Dear Secret Pilot,
I’ll be over tomorrow.
Your friend,Annie
She paused for a minute, then added “Amelia” after her own name. She sailed the plane back over the wall and waited, but it didn’t come back.
The next morning Annie jumped on her bike and pedaled around the corner. She kept her eye on the tall palm tree in her backyard. When she rode past a park on the next street, she lost sight of it for a minute but then was able to line it up with a long, low building. It didn’t look like a house. There was a parking lot beside it, and a large sign on the lawn. The sign said, “Seacliff Retirement Home.” Annie could see her palm tree behind the building.
She went up the sidewalk and peeked through the door. As she stepped on the black rubber doormat, the door buzzed aside like the one at the supermarket.
A nurse hung up a telephone and smiled at Annie. “May I help you, dear?” she asked.
Annie walked to the desk. “Do any kids live here?”
The woman said kindly, “No children—just older people.”
As Annie turned to leave, she saw a man with white hair and a blue captain’s hat walking slowly down the hall. His hat had gold wings embroidered on the bill. Annie saw something sticking out of his jacket pocket—her paper airplane. He saluted to the nurse.
“Hi, Captain Penny,” said the nurse. “Off to the park again?”
Captain Penny nodded and patted the nurse’s hand.
“Excuse me,” said Annie. “I’m Annie Amelia. Are you the Secret Pilot?”
Captain Penny smiled with every wrinkle on his face.
“He was a pilot all right, but it’s no secret,” said the nurse. “You should see his scrapbook. Why, he even knew Amelia Earhart, the first woman to fly the Atlantic Ocean alone.”
Captain Penny took off his winged pilot’s hat and set it on Annie’s head. She grinned back at him.
“He can’t speak very well since his stroke, but he doesn’t let that stop him,” the nurse explained. “He takes his newspaper to the park every day and watches the children play.”
Captain Penny scribbled a shaky note and handed it to Annie:
Dear Miss Annie Amelia,
Some young friends and I are meeting at the park today to make airplanes. Might your mother let you join us?
Your Secret Pilot
Annie gave him a salute. The nurse called Annie’s mother, and Annie and the Secret Pilot headed for the park.

As a father I would not consider my son a very grateful person if I gave him a camera for his birthday and he said with a sweet smile, “Thank you, Daddy, thank you very much!” and then after a week or so I found the gift thrown away like garbage in the darkest corner of our backyard.