Gospel Story Finder

At once, I recalled a memory of a day when my six children were little, and they kept coming to me asking for things they must have known I would say no to.
“Mom, can I have a cookie?”
“No, we’re having dinner as soon as your dad gets home.”
“Mom, can I go to my friend’s house?”
“Are your chores done?”
“Not yet.”
“Well then, you know the answer.”
“Mom can I—”
“No.”
“Mom could we—”
“No.”
“Mom!”
“No! Would you kids just please ask me something you know I can say yes to?”
I wanted to cover my ears and curl into a ball then also.
With this memory, I felt the Holy Ghost whisper, “How about asking for something I can say yes to?”

For the strength of the Church is not in the numbers, nor in the amount of tithes and offerings paid by faithful members, nor in the magnitude of chapels and temple buildings, but because in the hearts of faithful members of the Church is the conviction that this is indeed the church and kingdom of God on the earth. Without that conviction, as one of my eminent business associates remarked, “The welfare plan of the Church would be but a shambles”; also missionary work would not flourish; and members would not be faithful in making generous contributions to the Church to finance its many operations. The secret of the strength of this church may be found in the statement of a president of a student body at one of our state-operated universities, whose identity, of course, is confidential. This is a quotation from his personal letter addressed to me:
“With the rule of the radical ideas which are sweeping the country, there has come a breakdown of family ties which is despised in many intellectual circles. The country is seemingly plied with sex education, abortion, planned parenthood, pornography, women’s liberation, communal living, premarital sex, and postmarital permissiveness. …”
And then this young college student leader concludes with this heartwarming declaration, which I know came from the depths of his soul. This is what he wrote:
“President Lee, I want you to know that the Latter-day Saint students on campus who keep the commandments are 100 percent behind you. Thank God we have leaders who stand firm against the subtle battle of the adversary who is striking at the home, the most vital unit of the world. Thank you for being the kind of a person that we, as young people growing up in this mixed-up world, can understand and can follow.”

Since my previous medical work took Sister Nelson and me to a number of developing nations, we have been exposed to many challenging scenes. In one country, so many people were sleeping in the streets and on sidewalks that we literally had to step over them as we walked. In another nation, our compassion was stretched almost to the breaking point as we yearned to help countless people in need. Young mothers with babies bundled on their backs begged for money while paddling their little sampan boats, which served both as their shelter and as their mode of transportation. And, oh, how our hearts ached for young men and women of another country who, one by one, were strapped as beasts of burden to wooden-wheeled carts heavily laden with weighty cargo. As far as our eyes could see, the endless caravan of vehicles continued, pulled by dint of human toil.

One of our favorite things to do as a family is to sit around after church and watch Church history movies. We learn a lot and come together as a family.Michael Lahusky, 18Navarre Ward, Pensacola Florida Stake

A few years later, while Patrick was at his second boarding school in England, a powerful storm blew in from the Irish Sea. The resulting storm surge flooded 5,000 homes in the surrounding area. Patrick and his classmates were called upon to help with the massive cleanup.
“I still remember the weight of the sodden carpets and the stench of it all,” he says. “But I remember digging in and getting the work done with my fellow school friends. And I remember the people and their gratitude.”
That experience was perhaps Patrick’s first glimpse into the mutual blessings of rendering and receiving service. Later, he realized that his teenage feelings of insecurity had left him “while I was involved in this great effort to assist our neighbors.”

Another case pertains to a man who had a serious heart condition. At two o’clock in the morning it appeared as though efforts to control the disease preying upon his body were ineffective. At this time a General Authority came into the room and administered to him; his heart action immediately improved, and his life was saved. His health has continued excellent to the present time.

Jenna Beverley of the Chorley Ward said: “I knew that so many families would be without [food] over the holidays, so when I heard Holiday Hunger East Lancashire needed help, I knew we could use our car and time for good. It was great to see people come together, with what they had, to make this happen at such short notice. What I thought would be a one-hour service project turned into a six-hour quest to provide some relief to as many families as we could, but it was incredible to see the community come together for so many who requested help.”

Jenna’s son Isaac, aged 12, described the experience, “It was kinda stressful to deliver so many meals to people’s houses, especially when it was bad rain and then the phone battery died, so we didn’t know where we were going … but we did it!”

After recovering from serious health challenges, Elder Robert D. Hales shared the following in general conference: “On a few occasions, I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. … I … learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.”

Vanessa sets an example not only at home, but at school too. One day her class was drinking something that is against the Word of Wisdom. Vanessa passed it up and politely explained why she couldn’t drink it. Another time she told some children who were using bad language on the playground that she didn’t like those words and that they upset her. The other children respected her feelings and stopped using the offensive language.

Aurelia shivered as she remembered the terrible day two years later, when Joseph and his brother Hyrum were killed by a mob in the nearby town of Carthage. Aurelia could scarcely believe that anyone could be so wicked as to kill a kind man like the Prophet.
Aurelia’s Papa had taken her to the Mansion House to see Joseph’s body. A great crowd was there, all crying and crowding to look. Aurelia couldn’t see, so Papa had lifted her up to the window from where she could see Brother Joseph one last time. That had been nearly two years ago.

I am from Fiji but at present I am attending BYU—Hawaii. This is my first semester here, so you can know how much I am missing my family. But through reading the New Era on the Internet, I get a lot of strength to adjust myself here. I really like to read comments on certain topics by the youth. Also, sometimes I find a solution for a doubt that I have. Thanks very much for compiling these articles for us.
Ashlyn NairLaie, Hawaii (via e-mail)

Constancy #4: Develop and live within a budget. A friend of mine has a daughter who went overseas with a BYU study-abroad program for a semester. She was constantly writing home for more money. His concern was such that he called her long-distance and questioned her about the need for the additional funds. At one point in the conversation the daughter explained, “But dad, I can tell you where every penny you have sent me has been spent.”
He replied, “You don’t seem to get the point. I’m interested in a budget—a plan for spending—not in a diary of where the money has gone.”

I learned early on that there is great value in listening to experience in older people. I had a stake president once who said, “I always tried to be in the presence of great people.” He was in a little town in Idaho, but he said, “If there was a lecturer coming or something special, I would always try to be there, because I could learn.”

When Heather decided she wanted to go out for baseball, she didn’t think twice about the fact that there are no girls’ teams in her area. Today the petite 15-year-old with long dark hair and bangs is the only girl playing on boys’ teams in her league, and she’s doing pretty well.
The Drummonds are not the most outspoken kids in the world. They’re doers rather than talkers. But they will open up if you ask. Heather, for example, will tell you that she doesn’t feel short-changed by not growing up with a mother. “I’ve lived with guys all my life, so I do the things they do,” she says. “But I also do girl things. My best friends are girls. I don’t think growing up only with guys has hurt me.” Heather has her own ways of asserting her femininity. In the dugout, for example, even though she tucks her long brown hair up under her cap and wears a bulky uniform like the rest of the players, you can’t miss her because she’s the one wearing pink lipstick. And sometimes, when the other players lose their tempers and start swearing, they’re quickly reminded that a girl is present when Heather tells them, “Hey—watch your language!” And, she says, “They usually apologize.”
“Some of the guys I play with are kind of mean,” says Heather. “They say the only reason I’m on the team is because the coach doesn’t know how to cut a girl. I have to play extra hard to overcome that. I’ve been tempted to quit, but when I am, I just tell myself I have to stick in there, because everyone would think I can’t handle it. I can handle it,” she says with conviction, and you don’t doubt her.

Almost a decade ago, I read a letter from a returned missionary who described this process in his life. He had written to thank those who direct missionary work “for daring to send me where the Lord required rather than where I had deemed appropriate.” He had come, he said, “from a background of proud, competitive intellectualism.” Before his mission he was a student at a prestigious university in the eastern United States. Quote:
“I guess out of a sense of obligation and inertia, I filled out my [missionary] papers and sent them in, extremely careful to mark the column indicating greatest desire to serve abroad and in a foreign language. I was careful to make it apparent that I was an accomplished student of Russian and fully capable of spending two years among the Russian people. Confident that no committee could resist such qualifications, I rested confident that I would enjoy a wonderfully mind-expanding cultural adventure.”
He was shocked to receive a call to serve in a mission in the United States. He didn’t know anything about the state where he would serve, except that it was in his own country speaking English rather than abroad speaking the language he had learned, and, as he said, “The people I would work with would likely be academic incompetents.” He continued, “I almost refused to accept the call, feeling that I would be more fulfilled by enlisting in the Peace Corps or something else.”
Fortunately, this proud young man found the courage and faith to accept the call and to follow the direction and counsel of his fine mission president. Then the miracle of spiritual growth began. He described it thus:
“As I began to serve among the uneducated people of [this state], I struggled mightily for several months, but gradually the sweet workings of the Spirit began to tear down the walls of pride and disbelief that had wrapped themselves so tightly around my soul. The miracle of a conversion to Christ began. The sense of the reality of God and the eternal brotherhood of all men came more and more powerfully to my troubled mind.”
It was not easy, he admitted, but with the influence of his great mission president and with his growing love for the people he served, it was possible, and it occurred.
“My desire to love and serve these people who in the ultimate scale were at least my peers, almost definitely my superiors, waxed stronger and stronger. I learned humility for the first time in my life; I learned what it means to make our valuations of others [without relying on the] irrelevant details of life. I began to feel swelling within my heart a love of the spirits that came here to earth with me” (letter to General Authorities, Feb. 1994).

“As I did so [begin to read the Book of Mormon] the spirit bore witness that the record which it contained was true. I opened my eyes to see, my ears to hear, and my heart to understand. I also opened my doors to entertain the servants of God.” (As quoted in Matthias F. Cowley, Wilford Woodruff: History of His Life and Labors, Salt Lake City, Utah: Bookcraft, 1964.)

I remember the night vividly and marvel at how far I had strayed from what I knew was right. There I was, searching through trash cans behind a supermarket for food. I was close to suicide, yet I was afraid to die. Deeply frightened, I reflected on the incredible changes I had permitted to occur in my life.
I had been born into a Latter-day Saint home, and from the time I was a youngster I had attended my Church meetings. I graduated from seminary, was active in leadership roles, and loved being an active member of the Church.
After graduating, I was offered a scholarship to Brigham Young University. Instead of accepting it, I decided to try out for the top-rated baseball team of a university in another state. I had visions of becoming a professional athlete.
In college, I was exposed to an entirely different lifestyle. People’s attitudes were different, and I discovered a maze of differing philosophies. My Church activity dwindled, and my value system soon weakened. In spite of my lifelong membership in the Church, I wasn’t a true disciple of Jesus Christ. I was fully capable of ignoring the Spirit of the Lord.
New ideas and temptations hit me head-on. I began experimenting with drugs and alcohol and started dating a girl who was not a member of the Church. I even quit the baseball team to get a job so I could buy a car to impress her. I skipped classes as I became more involved with my girlfriend and drugs.
It wasn’t long before I was addicted. Within two years I couldn’t hold a job or function in normal society. I was broke, sick, and friendless on the beaches of San Diego, California.
That night in the supermarket parking lot, I fell to my knees. With tears streaming down my face, I pleaded for help, hoping that what I had learned as a child was true and that someone was listening.
Suddenly a wonderful warmth engulfed my head, then filled my entire body. I could feel the Spirit of the Lord with an intensity I had never known. A soothing calmness came over me, and for the first time in years, I felt at peace.
When I finally stood again, I was free of fear and anguish. I knew my desperate, sincere prayer for help had been answered.
The road back was a long but rewarding one. I returned to activity in the Church and began seriously studying the scriptures. I served as director of a drug rehabilitation center in southern California for a time and saw many helped through the power of God. I also saw others, who would not heed the Lord’s teachings, sink lower into hopelessness and degradation. I ache for those people and feel ever grateful to the Lord for hearing and answering my desperate prayer.

At eight in the morning
on a Saturday
beneath an overcast sky,
I wander across the boardwalk
of weather-beaten planks
to the deserted beach below.
Eleven seagulls sleep nearby,
their left legs tucked up, for warmth.
The sand is cool
on my bare feet.
I sit just above the damp tide mark,
brushing the smooth sand
into a wide arc
with my hands.
The tide edges forward,
and an almost blue mussel shell,
broken in half,
rolls and tumbles
briefly in the shallow froth,
Before it is carried
once more out of sight.
I stand and brush
the sand off my legs;
skirting a broken bottle,
I walk towards
the three-foot chain-link fence
surrounding our beach house.

When Brigham Reneer (6) of Provo, Utah, sings with the Primary, “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission,”* he already knows, because of his special circumstances, what being called to serve is like. On February 4, 2001, he was called to be a stake youth missionary in the Provo Utah Oak Hills Stake. Even though most young men are called to serve full-time missions when they are nineteen years old, Brigham is already serving as a stake missionary.
His family lives near the Missionary Training Center in Provo, and every time they drive past it, he is fascinated by the groups of missionaries gathered outside. “I want to go on a mission,” he repeatedly told his parents, Julie and Randy Reneer. But they knew that his health would never allow him to serve a full-time mission.
The opportunity for him to serve came when Brother Wayne Arballo, the Reneers’ home teacher, was called to be a stake missionary. Brother Arballo said, “I was passing Brigham in the hall at church. I knelt down by him, and he tried to take my missionary tag. I let him take it, but it made me wonder if there was something more I could do for him.” Brother Arballo wanted to help Brigham fulfill his dreams of becoming a missionary. He talked to the stake mission presidency, and they spoke with the stake president. The result was that Brigham was called as a stake youth missionary.
Brigham received his call in a letter, much like the letters full-time missionaries receive. His grandfather bought him a black suit, his aunts and uncles gave him a set of scriptures, and the stake mission presidency ordered a missionary tag with his name on it. His missionary plaque hangs in the display case at the Oak Hills Second Ward. It includes his favorite scripture, Isaiah 11:6—“And a little child shall lead them”—and his favorite Primary song, “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”† He could not be set apart because he is not yet baptized, but he received a blessing from the first counselor in the stake presidency, Stephen Clark, to help him in his calling.
Being a stake missionary is a dream come true for Brigham. He and Brother Arballo, now his companion, visit Primaries and other organizations in the stake to share a message about Jesus Christ. After Brother Arballo bears his testimony, Brigham tells the story of the Savior’s life while his companion displays pictures. Brigham loves to bear his testimony that Jesus died on the cross and was resurrected. Even though Jesus’ crucifixion makes Brigham sad, he knows that the Savior lives and will return to earth. “Jesus helps people get better,” Brigham testifies. He knows that because of Jesus, we have nothing to fear.

Our little blue Volkswagen rolled down the country road, carrying us farther and farther away from the home we had grown to love so much during the past five years. Mom was driving the car that contained my two younger sisters and me, and Dad was ahead in a borrowed truck that was loaded high with beds and tables; our old upright piano; and boxes of dishes, dresses, and collected memories. Leaving our little town of Potlatch, Idaho (population 880), for the big city of Lewiston, Idaho (population 26,000), was traumatic. I was 12 years old, and I knew that the sidewalks, drive-ins, and paper mill of this strange new place I was moving to could never replace the fresh country air and close friendships I was leaving behind. I was sure the best part of life was over, and I tried to resign myself to my fate.

After we were settled in our new little home, I spent most of the hot summer days lying on my bed listening to records, reading, and writing letters to my friends. Yet, as August drew to a close, I began to get more excited about attending this big junior high school that had almost as many people as the whole town of Potlatch.

With a new dress and a nervous smile, I entered the building that September and went to first period English. I took a seat near the front of the room and was delighted when the girl in front of me turned around and introduced herself.

As the days continued, I found that, miracle of miracles, the students here were really not so different from my other friends. They also liked the Monkees, hamburgers with mustard, and football games. They also weren’t too excited about math tests, cold weather, or the rival junior high school. I began to feel a part of things and even quit plotting to return to Potlatch for my senior year. I played the clarinet in the school band and quickly found that being in that organization offered me the security of belonging to a group. I didn’t know then that there was an even greater group that was soon to enter my life.

Although I was a member of the Church, when we lived in Potlatch I had usually attended a Protestant church located just behind my house. (There was at that time no branch in Potlatch, and our family seldom traveled the half-hour distance to the nearest ward.) When we moved to Lewiston, however, we began attending Sunday School at the LDS church. It was large, and the people seemed quite friendly—I couldn’t believe how welcome they made me feel! I became good friends with a girl named Teresa, and one day she invited me to come to Mutual. I had no idea what that was, and even after she explained it to me, I figured it must be something like 4-H. What a surprise to find that both boys and girls attended and that we had interesting classes and fun activities! I became involved in Church activities and hardly ever missed Mutual. Mutual was the place where I felt the greatest warmth and acceptance. I didn’t have a testimony of the Church at that time, and the reason I attended was because of the love and friendship extended to me by my friends and leaders. I could feel a warmth there that influenced my life in a very positive manner.

Today when I hear the names of inactive boys or girls, I try to remember that each of them is a potential active member. I am grateful to Teresa, a wonderful friend who kept inviting me to Mutual until I came, and for those open-hearted people in my ward who loved me into activity. I am grateful they did not say, “Oh, well, another inactive girl. I wonder what her problem is?” I’m glad that instead, they thought, “I wonder what her strengths are? We need her.”

Mutual gave me so much—firesides, girls’ camp, slumber parties, eternal friends. And perhaps most important, it gave me the beginnings of a testimony of the gospel and the understanding of what a tremendous influence Mutual can be in the lives of young men and women. For many years I was one of the many inactive little girls throughout the Church; how grateful I am that I wasn’t allowed to remain one forever! I wonder how many inactive members are waiting for us to invite them back into the Church? President Harold B. Lee once said, “What you have to give just may be enough.” From personal experience I know that sometimes that doesn’t have to be very much at all.