Gospel Story Finder

Later on in my life, many of my prayers were answered with a yes. One such time was when I received a pocketknife for my Christmas gift. This was a rare and a fine gift for someone in my humble circumstances, and I cherished it with all my heart and took very good care of it. However, in the springtime, a terrible thing happened—I lost my pocketknife! I searched everyplace I could think of but could not find it. The days went by, and each day I continued to search and pray. Some weeks later as I was returning home from school, my brother came running as fast as he could, shouting that he had found my pocketknife. I was overjoyed and so thankful that Heavenly Father had finally answered my prayers.
In this case, my prayers were answered with a yes. Heavenly Father knew that this answer would strengthen my faith. Since that time, I have had many, many prayers answered, but not all have been answered with a yes.

When Jamie learned of her husband’s pornography use, she reacted with an understandable desire to control whatever she could. She thought she could arrange the life of her husband, Jon, so he wouldn’t seek instant gratification through pornography, and he would, therefore, have no other option but to choose righteousness. She wrote daily lists for him: what he could do for fun and what chores he needed to complete.
A pivotal moment in Jamie’s journey came when her bishop was inspired to emphasize, “Jamie, this is not your fault. Nothing you are doing is making him look at pornography. He is choosing.” And just as she was not the cause of his looking at pornography, she also could not be the cause of his stopping. Intellectually, she already knew what the bishop told her, but Jamie says that after the bishop’s reminder, “the lists stopped. I gave up trying to control his behavior and trying to force him into righteousness—and I focused on myself.” In effect, Jamie gave herself permission to feel her own hurt and to work on her own recovery.
After Jamie’s realization, Jon struggled and relapsed often, but he took responsibility for his own actions. And as they each worked on their own healing, Jon and Jamie found that they could heal better as individuals and as a couple.
Another turning point for Jamie and Jon came when one of their children needed a blessing. They called their home teacher, who bravely explained that he was seeking help to deal with his own struggles with pornography. He offered to find someone else to give the blessing. That openness lessened the shame Jon and Jamie felt about their own situation, and Jon finally felt safe enough to discuss his addiction with someone besides Jamie.
When the home teacher’s wife offered to talk with Jamie, Jamie didn’t see the point since her talking wouldn’t fix Jon—and at that point, fixing him was her goal. Yet after she and the home teacher’s wife visited, Jamie felt lighter. Nothing had changed. Jon still struggled, but she was relieved that someone else knew what she was going through and her world hadn’t come crashing down.
Well into their journey of overcoming pornography, Jon and Jamie discovered how helpful it was to set boundaries, and they still have them today—even after a good amount of sobriety—because of the peace of mind that boundaries provide. Jamie says that when she was most vulnerable, setting boundaries “protected my heart.”
She and Jon agreed that there were appropriate times and ways to discuss issues surrounding a relapse. They agreed not to have “text wars” but to speak in person. They also agreed that if a discussion was turning into an argument, they could take a break and talk later.
Many of Jon and Jamie’s boundaries relate to how they communicate, but some of their other boundaries take the form of if/then statements in which they agree that certain actions will lead to certain consequences. That, Jamie says, allows them both to feel that life isn’t quite so chaotic.
So do Jamie and Jon, who actively help other couples find the healing they have found through the Savior and His Atonement.

Others who are first in the hearts of Church members include May Anderson, who served for fourteen years as the second general president of the Primary Association, and who for thirty-eight years was the editor of the Children’s Friend. Prior to becoming the Primary president, May was a counselor to Louie B. Felt, the very first general Primary president. One day while May and Sister Felt were walking along the street, they saw a badly crippled boy and were inspired to establish a hospital to help boys and girls who need care. This was the beginning of the Primary Children’s Hospital, which has made it possible for children all over the world to “give that sick children might live.”

It’s common to trust that promised blessings will come when we think we need them most rather than waiting on the Lord’s time and His plan for us. For almost a decade after being married, Brother Brothers and I still had not been blessed with a child. In fact, we had several pregnancies end in dramatic fashion requiring surgery and hospitalization. Each time the promises of motherhood in Priesthood blessings I had received became harder to understand. After losing our fourth baby, I lost my patience, my hope, my faith, I had nearly lost my life, I was in utter misery and a deep dark depression. I was angry with God because I was sure He had turned His back on me, so I turned mine on Him and shut out everyone and everything. It was what I imagine outer darkness feels like, completely removed from the presence of God. I remained in that despondent state for two nights until I came to my senses and admitted I needed help. In the very second I called out His name in prayer, I felt the overwhelming love and light of my Savior envelop me and melt away my misery. I felt the power of the Comforter and I’m sure many angels surrounding me. I was shocked at how quickly and how powerfully my answer for help came. He did not take away the sorrow but did help me through it. As it turns out, our path to parenthood came through the selfless sacrifice of amazing birth mothers who lovingly brought our two beautiful adopted children into the world. Their selfless love for these precious souls and trust in us to raise them is humbling and inspiring. God fulfilled His promises to bless my husband and I with the opportunity to be the parents of these two choice children.

The temple was as beautiful inside as it was outside. Everyone there was so nice, and there was a warm and peaceful spirit there. It was different than anything I had felt before. Everything was exactly perfect. My aunt brought names of some family members who hadn’t been baptized yet. As we were waiting, my mom and aunt and I imagined what these women were like when they lived on earth 300 years ago. It was special to have my dad baptize me for them.
Seeing everyone in white made me feel like I was surrounded by angels. The temple is like heaven on earth.

Insight Number Two
In 1982 Brother Crabtree had a heart attack. Open-heart surgery followed—five bypasses! A week after he was out of the hospital he insisted that his wife drive him out to the project. When she wasn’t looking, he climbed aboard a D-8 Caterpillar tractor and took off through the trees. He was gone for forty-five frantic minutes. He returned smiling and said everything seemed to be in place.

Brad plays nervously with his key ring. He will go to his new ward for the first time tonight, and he feels less sure of himself than usual. He has been thinking about how he will get acquainted and has decided the best plan is to just keep as quiet as possible for awhile. That way he will see what others are like before they form opinions of him. Brad smiles as he turns the key in the ignition. He isn’t sure just why, but somehow getting Dad to let him take the car tonight was very important to him.
Brad doesn’t realize that his keeping quiet does not prevent people from forming opinions of him. He also doesn’t recognize that the car makes him feel more confident in a new situation.

I’ve spent some time working in Naples, Italy, sequestered in dusty archives, pouring through old manuscripts and books as part of my research as a historical musicologist. The old Italian music I study is strange to the city now and seldom heard. When the libraries close, early and often, I’m back on the streets, sometimes in sections of Naples that are very poor, with beggars everywhere.

In the summer of 1987 a young boy there asked me for money in a subway station, and I ineptly shook my head and glanced away. At first I blamed my poor Neapolitan dialect for not understanding him (except for his open hand), but when others also looked puzzled, I realized that he too was foreign. I watched him go as he walked the length of the station.

It was always the same. He took a few slow steps, bent his right arm at the elbow, and rested it on his bony hip, his left hand behind his back reaching through to grab his upper-right arm. His right hand was cupped near to his body and almost closed, weakly drifting back and forth. He shifted all his thin weight to his left leg, turned his other foot to its outside edge, and bent his back in a slow arch. He never looked those he confronted in the face; his gaze went past you, about chin height. He repeated the same incomprehensible words over and over, and after each rejection he scuffed his feet, shuffled a bit sideways, and moved on, first to this group, and then that—a businessman, a mother, some imitation punk rockers, a factory worker, a man in uniform. He went to each person in the crowded station, a captive audience for his pitiful performance, and no one gave him anything. A few laughed. The teenagers mocked him. Most just ignored him.

As I watched the scene unfold, I thought, “He’s about the same age as my own 11-year-old son, about the same height, same hair color, same complexion, same awkward, uncomfortable posture that all 11-year-old boys have.” Then suddenly, as I stood in that crowded Neapolitan mélange of humanity, I saw my son in his face as he stumbled into the press around me, and I panicked and wanted desperately to go after him. But my train arrived, and I got on, maneuvering next to the window to search for him. I saw him standing there, alone in the deserted station, and then he was gone.

The face of that young boy in a subway station will be one of those images that will never leave me. Like the face of my young brother, years ago, as I led him into a hospital room to say goodbye to our father, or the face of my firstborn child, the face of that young beggar was the face of need. I’ve thought a good deal about beggars since then. The young boy had no money, and I had no will to help him. Which of us was the beggar? “For behold, are we not all beggars?” was the question posed by King Benjamin (Mosiah 4:19).

We are reminded of a young boy whose home was threatened by a severe storm. All day there had been reports of it on the radio and when evening came, he and his mother heard frightening warnings. The boy grew more and more upset. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the power failed. The radio became silent and the house was plunged into darkness. Then the mother heard muffled sobs from her young son.

“Try not to be upset,” she told him. “We’ve prepared as well as we could. After all, we are together, and there’s nothing more we can do about it.”

“I know,” he answered. “I know there’s nothing we can do about it. But isn’t there something more we can do about us?”

So in the darkness the mother and the boy knelt together and prayed for courage and comfort and safety. The storm did not cease, but a sweet peace came to them and stayed in their hearts until help arrived.

Orson’s great faith and natural ability were demonstrated through the numerous assignments he filled for the Church and the Prophet Joseph Smith, whom he revered and loved. Faithful, ambitious, and aggressive, Orson was called as an apostle on February 15, 1835, after which he performed successful missionary service in the United States and in Canada. While serving in Canada he was challenged to a debate by a Presbyterian priest. Reluctantly he agreed. The debate began and lasted until dinner. His record follows:
“After two hours, the forces were again drawn up in battle array. The enemy’s fire soon became less and less spirited, until, at length, under a well-directed fire from the Spirit of God—the enemy raised his hand to heaven and exclaimed, with affected contempt, ‘Abominable! I have heard enough of such stuff.’ I immediately rejoined, ‘Gentlemen and ladies, I should consider it highly dishonorable to continue to beat my antagonist after he had cried enough,’ so I waived the subject. The priest did not appear to think half so much of his scurrilous books, pamphlets and newspapers, when he was gathering them up to take away, as when he brought them upon the stand. Their virtue fled like chaff before the wind. About forty persons were baptized into the Church in that place (Scarborough) immediately after the debate.”3

After the temple was dedicated in 1958, many Saints gathered to the temple from across New Zealand and the Pacific Area to receive their endowment and sealing. For example, when Vaha’i and Sela Tonga of the country of Tonga heard that a temple would be built in New Zealand, they made plans to attend the dedication. Despite financial hurdles to travel, Vaha’i and Sela were the first couple to be sealed in the Hamilton Temple.

In a personal way, I recall the experiences my dear wife and I went through after deciding the course I should take for my life’s work. I had taken some courses in pharmacy with the plan in mind of converting to a career in medicine. As many of us do, I changed my mind and engaged in another business, banking. We were blessed with steady employment, but I felt attracted toward the profession of law. This was a serious decision because I was married and had a family to support but after fasting and prayer and obtaining the facts as to the best way to proceed, I completed my undergraduate work and entered law school. I took classes at night because it was necessary to be employed during the daytime. These were not easy years for us, but desires are usually accomplished if we are willing to make a determined effort. Needless to say, I had the help and support of my wife. She remained a homemaker and cared for our children. What she gave in love, encouragement, frugality, and companionship was far in excess of any material contribution she might have made by taking employment.

Like many people who pursue unusual careers, Shawn was concerned at one time with the question of whether or not his career would conflict with his feelings about the Church.
“After I had been in college three years, I wanted to rodeo for a while, and I was worried about the apparent contrast of ideals in my two worlds—the Church and the rodeo. I worried and prayed about it and spent time thinking it over. Then I realized the right answer for me was very simple. I knew the Church was true, and as long as I did the right thing and lived my religion, I couldn’t be doing wrong. I was then at peace with myself, and the Church has turned out to be one of my biggest assets on the rodeo circuit. I have been the subject of a lot of publicity because I am different. Writers casually mention that I am a Mormon cowboy and then go on to explain some of our beliefs. There are a lot of good Catholics and Methodists and other religions represented on the circuit, but their religions never seem to be mentioned.”

Moses Mahlangu, of Soweto, South Africa, patiently but persistently waited sixteen years for baptism. When he speaks of his long wait, Brother Mahlangu compares himself to Cornelius, who he says was “very good in waiting to receive the word of God or to be a member of the Church until the angels came and told him what to do.” (See Acts 10:1–7.) Today, at age sixty-seven, Moses is a groundskeeper at the Johannesburg South Africa Temple, which he regularly attends.

Benjamin Ballam, who has spina bifida, is a special child of Michael and Laurie Ballam, of Logan, Utah. He has been a blessing to them and many others. Having had seventeen surgeries, Benjamin knows all about hospitals and doctors. Once, when an overwhelmed attendant became vocally upset—not at Benjamin, but over stressful circumstances—little three-year-old Benjamin was an example of the Lord’s commandment to be “full of love” (Mosiah 3:19). He reached out, tenderly patted the irritated attendant, and said, “I love you anyway.”

Zoe got out of bed and put on her fuzzy slippers. It was Saturday! That meant extra time for games on Mom’s phone!
Zoe went into the family room and snuggled into a chair with the phone. She loved playing games.
When she was tired of one game, she opened another. And then another.
After a while Mom came in. “Zoe, I think it’s time to put it down,” she said.
“Not yet!” Zoe said.
“You’ve played enough today,” Mom said. “Why don’t you go outside or color a picture?”
Zoe didn’t want to play outside or color. She frowned as she handed Mom the phone.
The next Saturday when Mom came in and asked for the phone, Zoe looked sad again. The same thing happened the next week.
Finally Mom said, “I don’t think playing on the phone so much is making you happy. Next Saturday you can play for a little while, and then you need to do something else.”
Zoe tried not to think about next Saturday.
But Saturday came. Mom set a timer, and when it went off, Zoe knew her phone time was up. She trudged into the backyard.
The sun warmed Zoe’s face. It made her feel a little better. She looked down and saw daisies in the flowerbeds. Zoe smiled a little. When did those get there? She picked a few and tied the stems together to make a necklace. Soon Mom was calling her for lunch.
The next Saturday, Zoe felt a little sad when Mom took the phone. But she went to her room and colored a picture. Mom said it was beautiful.
A few weeks later when Mom came into the family room on Saturday morning, Zoe had just put down the phone.
“Are you already done?” Mom asked.
Zoe nodded. “Can I go play in the sprinklers?”
Mom smiled. “That’s a great idea. Let’s find you a towel.”
Zoe laughed as she skipped through the sprinklers. Then she pretended she was a mermaid. She liked playing games on the phone, but there were a lot of other fun things to do on a Saturday morning.

In the spring of 1945, I was on Okinawa as a frightened, barely adequate infantry replacement, concerned with victory to be sure, but very much concerned with selfish survival. Japanese artillery pieces had tried for several days without success to hit the little plateau our mortar squad was on. Then one evening they dropped three shells on us; they had finally found the range and we knew it, and they surely knew it. Since one of those shells fell just several feet from my foxhole, I was stimulated to intense prayer, full of promises. Strangely, no more shells fell near us that evening—at the very time when more shells should have been fired for effect. The Lord that night blessed me and others. But suppose He also told me to be of good cheer, for not only would I live, but one day (just a few ridges away) I would preach the gospel to an LDS chapel full of members! Could I have managed that perspective? Probably not. Yet that is what happened in 1973, 28 years later, as I was privileged to go back to that—for me—sacred spot. Sugar cane has since covered the little plateau but not my poignant memories of Okinawa, that bloodiest battle in the Pacific.

Jahmin Tengu of New Zealand nearly took his own life. Wanting to know of the Lord’s love for him, he felt prompted to get on his knees.

He recalls, “As I began to pray, I felt the Spirit of the Lord comfort me. I asked the Lord to bring truth into my life.” A few weeks later, Jahmin met a returned missionary who yelled out to him and asked, “Would you like to meet the missionaries?”

This led to meeting the missionaries and receiving a copy of The Book of Mormon. “I had no desire to read it at all, but I had this feeling when I read it. I felt as if the Spirit was saying, ‘I have given you what you asked for, I have answered your prayers.’”

Now, a missionary himself, Elder Tengu says, “I can truly testify that The Book of Mormon saved my life. . . . It is the word of God and is solely focused on bringing people closer to Jesus Christ.”

Dear Buddy,
Wow! Two letters from you in one week! That was great! But now I have a real problem, and it’s all because of you and your good looks and charm. I’m worried that you may steal my girlfriends from me!
Seriously, Melissa and Kelly are both good friends, and there’s nothing too serious between us as far as I’m concerned. But if they both show up at the house at the same time, you’ll have to use your charm and personality to save the day.
Elder Watts and I are teaching some terrific people. The Brooks family has a boy just a year older than you. His name is Bobby, and he’s been going to Primary for three weeks now and has made some friends there. Bobby and his mother want to get baptized and join the Church, but Mr. Brooks says that he can’t seem to get a testimony. We challenged him to finish reading the Book of Mormon and to pray for a testimony of whether it is true or not.
We are also teaching a student from the university, a great guy named Will Landers. Will likes the Church but has to solve some problems before he can join. Please remember all these people in your prayers.
And whatever your problem is, don’t be afraid to tell me.
Love,Reed
Dear Reed,
Today was the second worst day of my entire life! (The worst day was the day that you left home.) We had baseball tryouts, and I was terrible! I couldn’t do anything right. I need you here to help me. Dad says that he’ll practice with me, but you know how busy he is all the time. How can I ever learn to play baseball good enough to get on the team and then play for the high school and get a scholarship for college like you did? Sometimes I feel like a dumb little kid who can’t do anything right.
Do you know now what my secret is? My secret is that I don’t think that I can stand to have you be away for two years. I want you to come home right now! I need you, Reed. Please come home now!
Love,Buddy
P.S. If I ever decide to play baseball again, can I borrow your glove and bats?
Dear Buddy,
Last time you and I played baseball, you were as good as I was when I was your age—maybe even better! Your problem is that you want to be great right now. But you have a lot of work and practice and growing to do. Lots of the guys who were better baseball players than I was at seven and eight years old never made the college teams because they didn’t work as hard as I did all those years. So don’t give up if you really want to do it.
As far as the other problem goes, you know that I can’t leave my mission. But I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I get homesick, and it really hurts inside when I want to see all of you and can’t. I miss playing baseball with you, Buddy, and going for ice cream and to the movies and talking in the dark after we’ve gone to bed. What I do when I get homesick is pray for strength and comfort. And then I try to forget about myself by helping other people. That seems to work every time.
You can help Elder Watts and me too. Please pray for the Brooks family and Will Landers. And pray that Elder Watts and I can help them.
Love,Reed
P.S. I’m afraid that my glove and bats are too big and awkward for you, but you can try them if you want. And you can have all my baseballs if you promise to wear them out with your practicing.
Dear Brad May,
My name is Bobby Brooks. Yesterday your big brother baptized me, and I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! Elder Watts baptized my mom and dad. I’m really happy now, and Mom and Dad are happy too. We know that we did the right thing because this is the right church.
Elder May is a great guy! I like him a lot. He’ll be here only a short time, but you’re lucky because he’ll always be your brother. I hope that he’ll always be my friend. I want to be a missionary like him someday. Thanks for sharing him with us.
Sincerely,Bobby Brooks
Dear Reed,
Something awesome just happened! When I got your letter, I tried to do what you said. I prayed for help so that I wouldn’t miss you so much. Then I prayed for the people you’re teaching. Then I thought that maybe I’d write a letter to them. But before I wrote, I got a letter from Bobby Brooks, and he said that you baptized him!
I want you to stay on your mission and find more people who want to learn about the Church. I want you to tell me all about your mission because I want to grow up to be a missionary just like you.
Please tell Bobby that I’ll write a letter to him soon.
I have to go now so that I’ll be on time for baseball practice.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)

1 When I was ten years old, I bought my horse Blaze. I never worked harder for anything than I did for the money to buy him.
2 One day when I went to the barn to feed him, he was lying on the ground, his mouth foaming, his stomach distended, and his legs covered with blood from thrashing against the troughs.
3 The veterinarian said that Blaze had swallowed some grass that had caused his intestines to twist. He said that Blaze would die if the grass in his stomach couldn’t pass through his system.
4 We had to try to keep Blaze on his feet. My father and mother and I walked my horse all through the night. I cried and pleaded with him each time he dropped to his knees in agony.
5 About 4:00 A.M. Blaze lay down and refused to get up. When I called the veterinarian, he told me that he would probably have to put Blaze to sleep later that morning.
6 My father, who works with the Quorum of the Twelve, had to go to his office. He told me to call and let him know how Blaze was. I called and said that Blaze still hadn’t gotten up.
7 Elder Thomas S. Monson overheard the conversation and asked to speak to me. Elder Monson told me to kneel and pray and said that he would pray too. “Then,” he said, “go out and walk that horse.”
8 When I went outside, I found that my mother had gotten Blaze back on his feet. I had walked him less than an hour when his problem was cured! I called my father with the good news, and my mother and I and my brothers and sisters knelt to thank Heavenly Father for His blessing.