Gospel Story Finder

Janette Hales Beckham related this experience her husband had while attending medical school. “Getting into medical school is pretty competitive, and the desire to do well and be successful puts a great deal of pressure on the new incoming freshmen. My husband had worked hard on his studies and went to attend his first examination. The honor system was expected behavior at the medical school. The professor passed out the examination and left the room. Within a short time, students started to pull little cheat papers out from under their papers or from their pockets. My husband recalled his heart beginning to pound as he realized it is pretty hard to compete against cheaters. About that time a tall, lanky student stood up in the back of the room and stated: ‘I left my hometown and put my wife and three little babies in an upstairs apartment and worked very hard to get into medical school. And I’ll turn in the first one of you who cheats, and you better believe it!’ They believed it. There were many sheepish expressions, and those cheat papers started to disappear as fast as they had appeared. He set a standard for the class which eventually graduated the largest group in the school’s history.”
The young, lanky medical student who challenged the cheaters was J Ballard Washburn, who became a respected physician and was recognized by the Utah Medical Association for his outstanding service. He also served as a General Authority and is now the president of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple.

I received the other day a very interesting letter. It was written by a woman who joined the Church a year ago. She writes:
“My journey into the Church was unique and quite challenging. This past year has been the hardest year that I have ever lived in my life. It has also been the most rewarding. As a new member, I continue to be challenged every day.”
She goes on to say that when she joined the Church she did not feel support from the leadership in her ward. Her bishop seemed indifferent to her as a new member. Rebuffed, as she felt, she turned back to her mission president, who opened opportunities for her.
She states that “Church members don’t know what it is like to be a new member of the Church. Therefore, it’s almost impossible for them to know how to support us.”
This woman goes on: “When we as investigators become members of the Church, we are surprised to discover that we have entered into a completely foreign world, a world that has its own traditions, culture, and language. We discover that there is no one person or no one place of reference that we can turn to for guidance in our trip into this new world. At first the trip is exciting, our mistakes even amusing, then it becomes frustrating and eventually, the frustration turns into anger. And it’s at these stages of frustration and anger that we leave. We go back to the world from which we came, where we knew who we were, where we contributed, and where we could speak the language.”

Traffic in Santo Domingo is congested and noisy. Motorcycles, cars, and trucks make frequent use of their horns. At the start of our mission, our apartment was located at a busy intersection. During heavy commute times the traffic on this road is bumper-to-bumper. Motorcycles honk at every intersection. Cars honk the moment the signal turns green. Buses and semitrucks are especially loud and honk when they see the light change. The concrete apartment buildings here amplify the clamor. The traffic eases up at night, but some cars and motorcycles take advantage of the chance to gun their engines and race down the road.
Constant noise is hard for me. Early on, the only time I felt relief was at the temple or when working in the office. My brain felt the constant strain of trying to learn Spanish and trying to learn my mission responsibilities, and I desperately wanted a quiet refuge.
One opportunity that we have been given while in the Dominican Republic is to serve as temple workers in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple. In the temple it’s blessedly quiet. One day, coming out of the temple, the blaring traffic hit me hard, and I felt so oppressed. I said to Heavenly Father. “Could you please just make the noise stop for a little while?” In my mind I was huddled in a ball with my hands over my ears, begging.
With this memory, I felt the Holy Ghost whisper, “How about asking for something I can say yes to?”
I stopped there on the sidewalk outside the temple, where horns honked, and engines revved. I knew Heavenly Father would not stop the traffic. Then I remembered the story of the people of Alma in Mosiah 24. Alma and his people were in bondage to Amulon and the Lamanites. They were mistreated and burdened with heavy workloads. Alma and his people poured out their hearts to the Lord in prayer, and He heard them. I’ll bet a lot of those prayers were asking the Lord to make the hard things stop.
“And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.
“And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions” (Mosiah 24:13–14).
As the Holy Ghost brought these verses to my memory, I knew what to pray for. “Heavenly Father, please strengthen my mind so I can bear the noise of the traffic here and not feel the mental stress that plagues me now. I know you can say yes to this, because you did something like it for the people of Alma.”
I felt a new lightness as I walked home, dodging cars while crossing the street to our apartment building. I knew Heavenly Father heard and would answer my prayer. I didn’t know how it would come about; I just knew that He heard me.
About a week later, I was doing some work in our apartment, and I suddenly realized that I wasn’t covering my ears and I wasn’t in pain from the loud traffic. It had stopped bothering me the way it had before. It felt less intrusive and weighed on me less.

My parents were wonderful examples of love and nurturing. They loved the gospel and lived the gospel, and were in my mind perfect examples of Christlike people. They loved their neighbors and took care of them. We had a small farm with lots of chickens, a cow, and a horse. We were not in a wonderful financial condition ourselves, but we never went without food. As a young child I remember many instances of people who were too poor to pay for their eggs. I remember my mother saying, “It’s OK, you don’t need to pay for the eggs today.” And, “Why don’t you take this chicken home with you and have a good chicken dinner?”

Let’s hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears, so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It makes no difference. Not only have I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her—I have communed with God.

Steamboat in a Cornfield This hilarious story of a true historical incident is told in rhyme. At the back of the book are three short paragraphs about what later happened to the boat and two people, and a page of interesting (often funny) explanations and comments about the photos.John Hartford8 years and up

Two years later, while I was back in France as an exchange student, Kayla Barth, a fellow student from California, boldly invited me to attend church with her. Kayla’s unbounded enthusiasm for the gospel fascinated me. I hung on to every word as she shared the plan of salvation. It all sounded so familiar, as if I had heard it before.
When I walked into the Angoulême chapel for the first time, it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. I had come “home.” That same day, in the Gospel Essentials class, the missionary who was teaching shared a powerful testimony of the First Vision. As he explained how the Holy Ghost testifies to us, warmth radiated from my heart and filled my entire body. This powerful witness left an indelible impression on me, one that has carried me through trials that have tested my faith.

Oplatek, a thin round waferlike cookie stamped with figures of the nativity scene, is the center of an interesting tradition in Poland. On Christmas Eve the father of the house breaks and shares an oplatek with each member of his family. The farmers even break cookies and share with their farm animals as a symbol of peace and goodwill to all on this holy night.

You are never too young to strengthen your family. Just ask Edward B., age 7, from Halifax, Canada. His testimony helped his father realize that the Church is true. Now their family is holding family home evening for the very first time and getting ready to go to the temple!
When I was born, my dad wasn’t a member of the Church. When he tucked me in at night, I always told him, “Daddy, you have to know that this really is the true Church.” Mom and I prayed and prayed that he would join the Church. Finally, one day he told me that he wanted to be baptized!
Even our cat came to family home evening!
We sang my favorite Primary song, “Nephi’s Courage,” and had chocolate brownies, which I love.
To prepare for family home evening, we visited the Halifax Nova Scotia Temple grounds. I took lots of pictures.
During our first family home evening, we talked about how our family could get ready to go to the temple. Every time we thought of a way we could prepare to go to the temple, we put one of my pictures of the temple up on a board.
We braided bracelets out of colorful string. The strands of the bracelet are tied together to remind us that our family can be sealed together forever.

I appreciated the article by Elder Christofferson in the June 2006 issue of the New Era (“A Sense of the Sacred”). My husband and I are serving a mission in Accra, Ghana, and each Sunday we visit a different ward. We have been impressed that the men and boys come to Sunday meetings dressed in white shirts and ties, and the women and girls come in clean, modest dresses. It is obvious that their clothing is the best they have. Likewise, when they come to the temple, they are dressed in their Sunday best. We marvel at their humility and their desire to show respect to our Father in Heaven by dressing appropriately when they enter His holy house—whether it is the meetinghouse or the temple.Sister Carolyn W., Ghana

When Daryl H. Garn was a missionary in western Canada, his mission president made a visit to his area. Elder Garn hadn’t seen much of the mission president because the mission was so large, so this was a special occasion.
“As President Arave concluded his testimony, he said he knew those things better than he knew anything,” remembers Elder Garn, “and the Spirit witnessed to my mind that it was true—that you could know things of the Spirit as well or better than you know anything.”

The Saints were humbled and knew that God was watching over them. This testimony helped them endure, for their trials were not over. The next winter was severe. Frequent snows kept the ground covered. Cattle could not find feed, and it was very difficult for the men to go into the mountains to get firewood. Strong winds and cold also made life in hastily built log cabins miserable.

The following spring, some Saints were making plans to go to California, where they could find milder weather and better supplies. Hearing of these plans, President Heber C. Kimball, First Counselor to Brigham Young, promised that in the Salt Lake Valley, “in less than one year there will be plenty of clothes and everything that we shall want sold at less than St. Louis prices.”

President Brigham Young made his own promise: “As the Saints gather here and get strong enough to possess the land, God will temper the climate, and we shall build a city and a temple to the Most High God in this place.” With this encouragement, most of the people stayed.

As promised, the Lord did temper the elements. The next year’s harvest was large enough to feed the nearly 6,400 Saints who had made their way to Deseret.

Also as promised, temples began to rise. One of the first things Brigham Young did upon arriving in the Salt Lake Valley in 1847 was identify a site for the Salt Lake Temple. It was started in 1853 and dedicated in 1893.

The first temple completed in the West was in St. George. It was begun in 1871 and was dedicated on 6 April 1877 during a general conference of the Church. Temples were also dedicated in Logan in May 1884 and in Manti in May 1888.

“I can’t remember not believing in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I have loved Them since I learned of Them at the knees of my angel mother, reading scripture and gospel stories. That early belief has now grown into a knowledge and a witness of a loving Heavenly Father, who hears and answers our prayers.”
Elder Ronald A. Rasband of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “I Stand All Amazed,” Liahona, Nov. 2015, 90.

Somewhere else, yesterday, in the mission field, a dialogue between a missionary and a priesthood leader:
“Elder, you were called by a prophet of the Lord to serve Him. Do you remember when you received your call, signed personally by a prophet of the Lord? He said that you would be expected to devote all of your time and attention to serving the Lord, leaving behind all other personal affairs.”
The answer came quickly: “I don’t want to serve anymore. I don’t like the people; I don’t like the country; I don’t even like the food!”
“Well, what do you like, then?”
“Oh,” he replied slowly, “I like to drive my car. I want to go home.”

“Yes. It’s a story about a little girl named Ida, who was very, very sick. In fact, she was so sick that her parents were afraid that she might die.”
“Didn’t they take her to the doctor?” asked Kristi.
“Well,” continued Mother, “this story happened a long time ago, before penicillin was discovered, so although the doctor tried to help Ida, he wasn’t certain that she would get well.
“For many days Ida stayed in her bed. She didn’t feel like eating, even though her mother coaxed her, and she became very weak. When she slept, she tossed and turned and cried out in her sleep. Then, little by little, she began to improve.
“When her strength began to return, it wasn’t easy for Ida to be patient. She wanted to be completely well immediately. The sounds and fragrances of summer came drifting through the open window. Bees droned around the snapdragons, birds chirped, and the scent of blossoms filled the air. Peals of laughter echoed across the lawn as Ida’s older brothers and sisters scrambled to fill Mother’s big blue bowl with sweet cherries from the orchard. How Ida longed to be with them, climbing the leafy branches and plucking the juicy red fruit.
“‘Perhaps in a few days you will be well enough to sit on the porch,’ her mother had said. But ‘a few days’ seemed like forever to Ida.
“Creak-bang! went the screen door downstairs as Ida’s father returned, tired and dusty from his work in the fields. Ida could hear the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen and the soft wails of Baby Beth, tired and cross from the heat.
“‘Poor Baby Beth,’ Ida sympathized. It seemed like such a long time since Ida had played with her brothers and sisters. She missed them all, especially Baby Beth. But because her illness was contagious, the other children were not allowed to come into Ida’s room. Because it was summertime, her father spent nearly every day working in the fields. And with cherries to preserve, a hungry family to feed, and little Beth to look after, it was difficult for Ida’s mother to find time to just visit with her. For Ida, the hardest part of being sick was the loneliness.
“‘Are you asleep?’ her mother asked one day, setting a cup and bowl down on the little table next to Ida’s bed.
“‘No,’ Ida replied with a frown. ‘I was just thinking.’
“‘What about?’
“‘I was thinking about how summer evenings seem so long.’ Ida paused. ‘Mama, will it be long before I’m well again? Will there still be cherries on the tree?’ Ida peered anxiously at her mother’s tired face.
“‘It seems awfully long to you, doesn’t it?’ Her mother smiled sympathetically. ‘Try to be patient.’ She blew Ida a kiss as she turned to leave.
“Ida listened to her mother’s footsteps on the stairs, then folded her arms and closed her eyes.
“‘Dear Heavenly Father,’ she whispered, ‘I thank Thee for this food. Help me to eat it so that I can get better soon. And please help me to not feel lonely tonight.’
“After dinner, Ida closed her eyes again. The sun had nearly set. If only I could sleep, she thought. But it was no use. Her eyes just simply would not stay shut. The corners of the room were beginning to get dark, and Ida heard the sound of a lullaby floating up the stairs, accompanied by the clickety-whirr of her mother’s treadle sewing machine.
“Ida felt a wave of loneliness sweep over her. She wanted to run downstairs and tuck Baby Beth into bed or watch her mother sew or just sit on her big brother’s lap. She tried not to cry, but a big salty tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her nose. And that is when she saw it: Poised on the windowsill, ebony-black against the twilight, was a cricket. It sat silent and motionless for a moment, then burst into a chirping song.
“‘What a strange sound!’ Ida exclaimed. She caught her breath as the cricket hopped up in the air and landed again on the windowsill. Ida watched, entranced, as the cricket leaped and chirred in the fading light until, at last, her room was enfolded in darkness and she was fast asleep.
“In the morning the cricket was gone. But when twilight came, it returned to the windowsill to sing and dance until Ida fell asleep. After that the cricket came every night to sing Ida to sleep.
“One day Ida was finally well enough to leave her bed and go downstairs to sit on the porch. That night the cricket didn’t come. It never came again. But always after that, whenever Ida heard the song of a cricket in the twilight, she remembered ‘her’ cricket and felt again the assurance that there is a loving Father in Heaven who answers the prayers of His children.”

The differing perspectives of scientific evidence and religious doctrine can be likened to the difference between studying about an automobile by observing its operation and disassembling and analyzing its various parts or by reading the operator’s manual written by the manufacturer. Much can be learned by observation and analysis, but that method will yield only partial knowledge of the function and potential of a machine. The best and most complete knowledge about the operation and potential of a machine will be revealed by studying the manual written by its manufacturer. The operator’s manual for our bodies and souls is the scriptures, written by the God who created us and interpreted by his prophets. These are the best sources of knowledge about the purpose of life and the behavior and thoughts we should cultivate in order to live in happiness and to achieve our divine destiny.

In early 1975 the Bridgeport Ward (New York New York Stake) was divided. Ward members felt the two new wards would be weakened in all phases of the Church program, but the young men of the new Merritt First Ward had different ideas. Even though they had never won a stake championship in their previous ward, the Merritt First Ward young men felt they had the talent to do well in athletics; and well they did.
It all began in the spring when they took the stake, region, and area championships in softball. Then in the fall they repeated the same winning streak in basketball against tough opposition. Even that was not the end of the story. In volleyball, they repeated the act once more. This still was not the end. They won their second season of softball, too. The Merritt First Ward young men have an unconquerable spirit.

The loving example of Ghanaian members has a powerful effect on their friends and families.
Phillip Ohene, now serving as clerk of the Koforidua Second Branch, says his LDS employer “talked to me about the Church through his actions. He would tell me the thing, and I would see him doing it himself.” This example helped Phillip decide to investigate the gospel. In shaping people’s attitudes about the Church, he says, “What they hear is not so important. It is what they see.”

I once heard a stake president mention the great success of one of his elders quorum presidents. He said, “His name is Hershel Pedersen. Perhaps you have heard of him. They used to call him ‘Bones’ when he played for BYU.” Well, I, along with many of you had heard of Brother Pedersen. As a matter of fact he grew up in my stake. He is one of the seven sons of Oliver Cowdery Pedersen, who all went on missions, most of them to Denmark. I heard his report when he returned from his mission, and I signed his temple recommend when he was married. So I was interested.

The stake president continued: “Brother Pedersen has committed himself to qualify every man in his quorum for a temple recommend. They are all qualified now except six.” Some time later when I was with the Church Home Teaching Committee, we remembered this story and asked Brother Pedersen to report on how his quorum had turned out. He said, “We got them all but three. Then they released me to become president of the stake mission. But since my release we got the other three.”

Back in Macclenney, 15-year-old Jonathan Fish talks about writing advice. “I wrote what I thought the youth in the future could use and what they should strive to do.” He also surprised himself. “I thought I could give some advice just to help them along, but I found myself preaching,” he admits with a laugh. Did he stop and think, Oh, I’m becoming my dad here? Again he laughs. “Yes. It was actually scary at first.”