Gospel Story Finder

In closing I want to share with you a personal experience. One day when circumstances made it necessary for me to be at home at an unusual time, I witnessed from another room how our eleven-year-old son, just returning from school, was directing ugly words towards his younger sister. They were words that offended me—words that I had never thought our son would use. My first natural reaction in my anger was to get up and go after him. Fortunately, I had to walk across the room and open a door before I could reach him, and I remember in those few seconds I fervently prayed to my Heavenly Father to help me to handle the situation. Peace came over me. I was no longer angry.

Our son, being shocked to see me home, was filled with fear when I approached him. To my surprise I heard myself saying, “Welcome home, son!” and I extended my hand as a greeting. And then in a formal style I invited him to sit close to me in the living room for a personal talk. I heard myself expressing my love for him. I talked with him about the battle that every one of us has to fight each day within ourselves.

As I expressed my confidence in him, he broke into tears, confessing his unworthiness and condemning himself beyond measure. Now it was my role to put his transgression in the proper perspective and to comfort him. A wonderful spirit came over us, and we ended up crying together, hugging each other in love and finally in joy. What could have been a disastrous confrontation between father and son became, through the help from the powers above, one of the most beautiful experiences of our relationship that we both have never forgotten.

“I shall always remember the faith of an old Maori brother in New Zealand. As the missionaries came to his humble little fishing shack located well off the beaten track, he hurried to find an envelope containing the money and letter to the missionaries. This fine brother didn’t have the ability to read the letter when it arrived, for it was written in English and his tongue was Maori, but he could read the financial figures contained in it, and he recognized the letterhead as being from the mission office. He thought the mission needed the cash amount mentioned for some special purpose, and he had it all ready for the missionaries. After translating the letter for him, it was now clear that the letter merely confirmed his annual tithing settlement and stated the total amount paid for the previous year. His faith was such that he stood ready to pay the same amount all over again if the Lord’s servants needed it for the work.” (Robert L. Simpson, Conference Report, April 1966, p. 52.)

Suppose you’re a student (the principle can apply to other situations equally well), and you walk into class in the first week of October, carefree and relaxed. You’re suddenly brought to attention when Mr. Gillam announces that a term paper with at least 15 references will be due December 15. You think, “Okay, that’s over two months away. I’ll get on it later.”
We’ve all had first-hand experience with that rather typical response, right? About December 5, we start to get worried; by December 10, we get to the library for some research; by December 12, we’re in a state of panic, omitting all other homework, and of course, the night of December 14 is an all-night session. The paper gets done, but we’re not very proud of it. The research is haphazard, and the writing reads like the first draft that it is.
So you leave Mr. Gillam’s class that day in October and promptly forget about the term paper. But that evening as you’re reading the new issue of the New Era, which has just arrived that day, you come across a wise, sparkling, and motivating article on “Taking Control of Your Life.” The spirit of repentance grabs you, and remembering Mr. Gillam’s term paper assignment, you think, “Why not try it?”
You turn your calendar ahead (You do have a personal planning calendar, don’t you?) and notice a few activities already scheduled for December: on the 8th, let’s say, your journal is due in your creative writing class; on the 10th, Sunday, you’ve been assigned to give a talk in a seminary-sponsored sacrament meeting. And on the 5th, your brother is coming home from his mission; you’ll have to move out of his room, put his stereo back together, and re-wax his skis. All of this plus December’s Christmas preparations too!
The idea of being your own boss is simply to decide that you won’t turn in the paper on the 15th, but on a prior date, say November 30. I know it sounds astounding to do the job before it has to be done. But look at the advantages: you’ll have time to put the finishing touches on the writing journal, have time to work on the talk, and of course, have time to spend with your brother, explaining how you poked his ski through his three-way speaker and other interesting things he will want to know.
You’ll have time for all of this if you get that paper done early. And think of the psychological power of setting your own deadline, being your own supervisor, turning in the paper when you choose. There’s also the secret pleasure of seeing Mr. Gillam’s mouth drop open and of smugly (but humbly, please) gloating over your friends’ last minute struggles to meet the deadline. (Of course, if you’re afraid someone will think you’ve lost your senses—after all, no one does anything early!—you can finish the paper and hold it until the due date before turning it in, and nobody will know.)
Now you look at your November calendar. It seems to be relatively clear. You look at October and it’s okay, so you make your decision: you can do it by November 30. Congratulations—you’re now your own boss; you’ve set your own deadline.
You’re not done yet, however. Naturally, you’re subject to the same possibility of failure that any boss has. For your deadline to be realized, you need a plan, a schedule. And now we need to look back to the first idea presented in this article. Of course! You have to sneak up on it. It won’t do to leave it until the last week of November, so you must set up your schedule now. One good approach is to build your schedule in reverse, that is, starting with the November 30 date and moving backwards. You decide to leave yourself plenty of time for the final typing, say from November 26–29. Now, moving backwards, you plan a week for the final draft, starting on November 19. Let’s say you’re one who writes three drafts (at least two, please!), so you leave a week (November 12–16) for the second draft, and two weeks (October 29 to November 9) for the first one. That leaves the rest of October, about three weeks from where you are now, for sampling topics and choosing one, then researching. And remember the idea we discussed earlier of researching one source per school day—sneaking up, you know.
Get the idea? Does it sound too easy? Well, don’t fool yourself. It will be work, just as much work as if you did it the “usual,” last-minute way. But it spreads it out, lessens the load on any given day, moves the mountain a spoonful at a time, and completely—yes, completely, if you maintain your schedule—eliminates the last-minute panic. And if you are delayed by sickness or other unpredictables, you can move the date back a week and still get the paper in early.

I was terrible at setting goals growing up. I didn’t really understand the purpose. But I learned to set realistic and faithful goals while serving a mission in Dallas, Texas, USA. Since returning home in 2018, I’ve applied three valuable lessons about goal setting.

I just finished reading “Chiasmus in the Book of Mormon” [February] by John W. Welch and want to thank Brother Welch for writing it and you for printing it. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as chiasmus, let alone that it was contained in the Bible and Book of Mormon. This article has really helped me understand and appreciate the Book of Mormon even more than I did before.
Chad PharisMoscow, Idaho

Earlier this year, I was provided with an exciting yet humbling opportunity to help my little sister, Oceane, progress on the covenant path by accepting the invitation to be baptized and fulfill one of the prescribed requirements to enter the celestial kingdom. She postponed her baptism one month, until I was ordained a priest, to give me the privilege to perform the ordinance, while our other sisters were also privileged to work under priesthood assignment and stand as witnesses. As we stood on opposite sides of the font and prepared to enter the water, I noticed her excitement, as it matched mine. And I felt united with her, seeing that she was making the right decision. This opportunity to exercise the priesthood required me to be more careful and less casual in my gospel living. In order to prepare, I went to the temple every day that week, supported by my mom, grandma, and sister, to perform baptisms for the dead.
This experience taught me a lot about the priesthood and how I could exercise it worthily. I know that all priesthood holders can feel the same things I felt if we follow Nephi’s example to “go and do” (see 1 Nephi 3:7). We cannot sit idly and expect the Lord to use us in His great work. We must not wait for those who need our aid to seek us out; it is our duty as priesthood holders to exemplify and stand as witnesses of God. If we are making decisions that inhibit us from our eternal progression, we must change now. Satan will try his hardest to keep us in a carnal state of seeking simple pleasures. But I know that if we put in the effort, find those who will support us, and repent each day, the resulting blessings will be incredible and our lives will be forever changed as we press forward on the covenant path.

Love, Amalie
Love, Amalie
Love, Amalie
Love, Amalie
Illustrations by Dilleen Marsh
Christmas was almost here. Amalie was excited. Soon she could unwrap the presents under the tree!
At family home evening it was Mom’s turn to give the lesson.
“Why do we give presents at Christmas?” Mom asked.
“Because it’s Jesus’s birthday!” Amalie said.
“Then shouldn’t we give a present to Him?” Mom said.
Dad helped Amalie’s brother Noah read a scripture. It said that when we serve other people, we are serving God (see Mosiah 2:17).
“Is serving others giving a gift to Jesus?” Mom said.
Noah nodded.
“What else?”
“Keeping the commandments,” Amalie said.
“Being nice,” Noah said.
“Great ideas!” Mom said. “Now let’s play a game. I’ll say a gift someone gave to Jesus. Tell me if you know who it was. Here we go. This person gave out Christmas cards at the care center.”
Noah raised his hand. “Amalie did that!”
“This person went home teaching.”
“That’s Daddy,” Amalie said.
Soon they had named lots of gifts they had already given to the Savior.
“We can give gifts every day,” Mom said.
The next morning it was time to clean the house. “Oh no,” Amalie groaned. But then she remembered. Serving others is a gift! If she helped Mom, it was the same as helping Jesus. She found a cloth and wiped the counters until they shone.
The next day Amalie earned some money.
“Your tithing is eight cents,” Mom said.
Amalie remembered again. Tithing is a commandment, so paying it is a gift. She put eight cents in her tithing jar.
Later that week Amalie helped pick up pillows. Her baby brother had thrown them off the couch. “Another present for Jesus,” she said.
On Christmas Eve, Mom and Dad told Amalie they were proud of her. “You’ve been giving gifts to Jesus all week long,” Dad said. “That’s like having a little bit of Christmas every day.”

Dale Stanton, 13, of Friendswood Ward, Friendswood Texas Stake, loves sports. He plays on a recreational basketball team that has won their competitions four years straight. He also plays quarterback on his school’s football team, ran the 100-yard hurdles, and played shortstop in baseball.
Dale’s baseball team won the city of Houston championship, then went on to win the state of Texas championships. Of his efforts in sports, Dale says, “I just play my hardest and do my best and it turns out good.”
In addition to sports, Dale is an excellent student and plays the french horn in band. He is the deacons quorum president in his ward.

“I think I can share this with you. As I sat in the Tabernacle at the last conference and was sustained by the people of this church, there came before me in my mind’s eye, the picture of my mother when I was a little boy. And I’m sure she must have thought then that I wouldn’t amount to much because I was not an easy little boy to deal with. I am grateful that I have the opportunity in my old age to bring honor to her name. …”

From the record, it is obvious that most home teachers do not really enjoy home teaching. I have been a home teacher for 21 years. I don’t think I have missed a half dozen visits over the whole period. I cannot say that I love to home teach until I get to the first home, and then I do love it because I then get the spirit of a home teacher because I am acting like a home teacher—doing what a home teacher does.

The Wilsons are a close-knit family who take drives in the countryside when their busy schedules allow. They also like to play games together. Sometimes for family home evening they play a Book of Mormon game Sister Wilson made. It stretches clear across the floor. For many years they invited an elderly neighbor to each of their family home evenings and adopted him as their granddad. After his death, they began to invite a handicapped man from their ward. “He’s a lovely man with a beautiful spirit,” Sister Wilson says, “but he can’t speak. He has to use a machine to communicate.” The children welcome guests with open arms. At Christmas they invite in anyone they know is going to be alone. The family also goes caroling to some of the elderly people who live nearby.

In spite of how hard that experience was, I forgave my friends for what they did. I knew they didn’t understand my standards and my decision to live the Word of Wisdom, so I forgave them and chose not to have any bad feelings toward them. When we finished school, I left on my mission but continued to communicate with Juan and Francisco. I wrote them frequent letters sharing with them the gospel and my testimony of Jesus Christ. I invited them to repent and to attend church. To my great surprise, one of them actually went.
I had frequently invited my friends to Sunday meetings before, but none had accepted until now. Although I couldn’t attend with Juan, my brothers and my father were there to help him and fellowship him. My family accepted him, and Juan felt very comfortable at church. He started changing little by little until he made the decision to get baptized. I was thrilled for him and even more thrilled when he told me he had learned to love Jesus Christ because of my letters. When I came home from my mission, I also stayed close with Francisco, and after some time, he and his wife also got baptized. Today, Juan and Francisco are still two of my closest friends.

Later I decided not to read the giant edition of the Sunday newspaper on that day; this was asking a lot for I used to read all the papers and comics before church and then spend the rest of the day picking them up. Now they lay folded on the table until Monday morning. And I was free. Sound silly? Try it and you’ll find as I did that it makes Sunday a pleasant day. Nor is it a tremendous sacrifice; it’s a joy!

As much as I loved the Church, it was during those boyhood days that, for the first time, I had a sense there was something even more. When I was five years old, a major conference was held at the tabernacle. We walked down the lane on which we lived and over a small bridge leading to the stately meetinghouse and sat on about the 10th row in the large chapel. Presiding and speaking at the meeting was David O. McKay, the President of the Church. I do not recall anything he said, but I vividly remember what I saw and what I felt. President McKay was dressed in a cream-colored suit and, with his wavy white hair, looked very regal. In the tradition of the islands, he wore a triple-thick red carnation lei. As he spoke, I felt something quite intense and very personal. I later understood that I was feeling the influence of the Holy Spirit. We sang the closing hymn.
Who’s on the Lord’s side? Who?
Now is the time to show.
We ask it fearlessly:
Who’s on the Lord’s side? Who?
(“Who’s on the Lord’s Side?” Hymns, no. 260)
With those words being sung by nearly 2,000 people but seeming to be a question posed just to me, I wanted to stand and say, “I am!”

Elder Carlson was born on October 3, 1949, in Hibbing, Minnesota, USA, to Clifford and Helen Carlson. He spent most of his childhood moving throughout the northern half of the state as his father was promoted within the Minnesota Forestry Department. When the family moved to Brainerd, Minnesota, Helen Carlson (who had been baptized in her youth) was finally able to take her children to a small branch of the Church that met nearby.

A sister in Mexico City was 16 years old when the missionaries came to her door. She says that as they taught with the Spirit, “it seemed like they had taken the bandages off my eyes and that the Lord was clearing my understanding. … The word of God and my prayers strengthened [me] to overcome my next trial, to face my father. When I met rejection from my family because of my baptism, the Spirit of the Lord strengthened me by whispering: ‘Keep on. Go on. Some of your relatives will become members of the Church.’”

During the first year of my mission, my parents were not supportive about my missionary service. The Lord revealed to me while I was on my mission that my family was fine, and they would be taken care of. Then things changed all of a sudden. The last six to eight months of my mission my family was very supportive. They said they were receiving blessings, and they knew it was because of my serving a mission.

I’ll never forget the lesson I learned a few years ago. It was a lesson of how to show, not just teach, the gospel message. At the time, I was serving in the Sweden Stockholm Mission in a town not far from Stockholm.
One rainy day, while my companion and I were riding the bus home for lunch, we met a young lady who had been an exchange student in the United States. She told us that her name was Anna and that she was attending the university in town. We asked her about her beliefs and found that she was very active in another church. She said that she would never change but accepted our invitation to hear more about our beliefs.
During the weeks that followed, we taught her several discussions and had some wonderful spiritual experiences. She read from the Book of Mormon and prayed for answers to her questions. She felt that it was right, but because of her previous religious ties, she had a hard time accepting the challenge to be baptized.
That Thanksgiving we had planned a small “feast” for our investigators and some member friends. As the word spread, our small feast became a large gathering. Of course Anna was invited, along with others that my companion and I had grown very close to.
Before the blessing on the food, I took the time to explain the significance of Thanksgiving and why we celebrate it. I also explained to the guests just how much my companion and I loved and appreciated each one of them. I thanked them for the kindness they had always shown us.
The rest of the night went rather well. There were musical numbers by members and nonmembers alike and many other fun activities. I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, however. It had taken much more of our time than I had expected, and I wondered if the time could have been better spent.
Later that next week, I received a notice of transfer, but before I left, Anna wrote a short letter and gave it to me. I have translated a portion of that letter:
“I also want to thank you for letting me come to your Thanksgiving party. It was quite an experience for me in two ways—partly because I got to eat American food and partly because I got to see the warmth that exists between you and your friends. It will be of great importance for me in my decisions concerning your teachings.”

To get ready for the Primary program, I learned the songs and memorized my part. But when it was my turn to speak into the microphone, I was scared by all of the people watching me. My Primary teachers tried to help me, but I was still too scared to say anything. Then my dad came up and held my hand. I didn’t feel scared anymore, and I said my part just right. That must be like how Heavenly Father helps all of us.

I often think of the eleven-year-old boy I taught in Primary many years ago. He had been labeled “troublemaker.” But as I came to know him, I found the label was wrong; it should have been “mentally alert,” or “ahead of everyone.” He was bored because he knew all the answers. He had only to be challenged.