Gospel Story Finder

The children shuffled in as usual, the timid ones clinging to their mothers’ skirts, the bold ones smiling happily on the front rows. Everything seemed normal—except who is that playing the music? Someone different is conducting, and look at all those teenagers scattered among the children.
In the Vancouver 9th Ward, Vancouver Washington Stake, the Young Men and Young Women took over the Primary for one day. The adult members of the ward had been called to attend a special meeting with the bishop. The young people gladly accepted the assignment as substitute teachers and music leaders. Both the children and the youth loved the experience as they learned from each other.

Sister Thelma Bonham deJong, of Provo, Utah, once endured a difficult time when her husband was dying of cancer and her own health was failing. “Only the good Lord knows the weight of the burdens I carried for months,” she said. “Always with a prayer in my heart, I pleaded with Him to give me the courage to face my problems in a valiant manner and with dedication give my best to the end. Without His constant help, I could never have given devoted service to my beloved husband in the long months of his illness. God hears and answers prayers.”

Our family arrived in Orlando, Florida, late one Friday night. We were going to go to the big amusement park there. It has so many places to visit and rides to ride and things to do and see! But even though our passes included Sunday, we decided to keep the Sabbath Day holy and not use the passes that day. We didn’t visit any of the other nearby theme parks, either. Instead, we decided to visit the temple. Our dad and mom looked it up on a map, and we searched until we found it. We were excited as we spotted it in the distance. The closer we got, the more beautiful it was. We felt good inside to be near a house of the Lord, and we felt an even greater warmth because we had followed the teachings of our Savior and His prophets by keeping the Sabbath Day holy. The blessings we receive by choosing the right are much better than any fun at an amusement park.

Sophie’s grandparents live by the sea. Sophie and her younger brother, Jacob, love to help their grandmother clean the beach by carefully removing pieces of glass and other items. They make sure the beach is clean and safe for both animals and people.
Sophie says, “Jesus taught us to love each other and to help each other. Taking care of nature and helping to keep it clean and safe for humans and animals is a way of helping others. By taking care of the world around us, we take care of the home of all people. The world God created for us is a great blessing!”

We had just moved to a new state, and I was nervous. As I was walking into my new school, I said a prayer asking Heavenly Father to let the Holy Ghost be with me. I felt a warm feeling in my chest. If you don’t know if you are feeling the Holy Ghost, see if you feel a warm feeling inside. Everybody feels it differently. It’s easiest to feel it if you say a prayer or do something good.
Joshua S., age 8, North Dakota

Why do I say that? Here’s one reason: I knew a boy who faced an unexpected and challenging decision. He faced it at the end of the summer in the year he turned fifteen. He had just returned home after working all summer on his uncle’s farm in another part of the state.
It was the first sacrament meeting he had attended since returning home. For some reason, he was detained a few minutes after the meeting. When he found his friends, they were standing in a group just outside the church building. As he approached, he noticed that they were concluding some kind of agreement. When he joined them, he was met with a seemingly innocent question: “Are you going in with us on it or not?”
“On what?” was his reply.
“On a half gallon of beer.”
That answer really shook him. He was not ready for it. His group had always been good kids. This question was completely out of character, he thought. But things were not as he remembered them. He had spent his summer away from his pals, and this had kept him more or less as he was. Something, however, had happened to change his friends. They seemed more grown up and worldly. This surprise made him falter before answering their question. It’s strange how many things can go through your mind in a flash: These were his friends. They were not enemies. He knew each one well. He had sat in Primary and Sunday School classes with them. They had sung songs together. Some of them had been ordained deacons the same Sunday. They had passed the sacrament together scores of times. Their school activities had brought them close. With some of them he had built toy airplanes and scooters and played rubber guns. They had hiked and worked and played together. Why should this simple question threaten this choice association?
Pressure from friends and acquaintances our own age is tremendously powerful! There is a desire to want to be “one” with friends. Besides, who wants to be a sissy, afraid to join in the fun. What’s more, if he didn’t join them, he would be one against the crowd.
But even with all of these ideas running through his head, another idea impressed itself even harder on his mind. There was one reason that stood out against all that seemed so appealing: It was not right. From somewhere within him came the courage to say, “No, I don’t think I will.”
The group turned away and strode across the street toward the beer hall, intent on carrying out their plan. My friend was left standing—alone. I’m sure he did not think of the Lord’s statement, “It is not good for man to be alone,” but he certainly understood its meaning in a new and personal way. He came to understand the truth of that statement in the days that followed and to see why all of us need true and loyal friends who believe and live as they should.
Even though he was fifteen—going on sixteen—tears came to his eyes as he walked home. His mother, sensing that something was wrong, asked, “What has happened?”
He blurted out the short experience.
“You’ve done right, my son” she reassured him.
“I wish I were as sure as you are,” he answered.
“You made the right decision,” she repeated, “and you’ll see. You will be blessed.”
The days that followed this incident were not especially happy ones. It took readjustments to establish his equilibrium. There followed a process of establishing new friendships. There was the inevitable heartache at school when conversations would grind to a stop as he joined his former group. There were moments of loneliness as he walked between the high school and the adjacent industrial arts building. What was formerly spontaneous fun and youthful sport changed to a subdued good humor. There were some obvious moments in basketball practice, too, when he would be in the clear and call for the pass, only to be ignored while another person was sought out to receive the ball.
But that all passed as everyone knows it will. Time is the great eraser. It dulls the former sad moments. It smooths hurts and salves wounds.
It was not long until former friendships were reestablished, although on a different basis than before. In a little more than a year, this young man was elected seminary studentbody president. The next year he was elected high school studentbody president by his friends. Two years later he entered the mission field, the only one of his class to do so. One classmate went on a mission the following year, but his other friends never did.
This young man has since fulfilled many calls to service and responsibility in the Church. Other tests of his integrity and moral standards have come into his life—as they come into the lives of us all. But few such tests have been so well-remembered or have made so lasting an impression on his life.
In a rather undramatic situation, he chose the right. And his mother was right, as mothers generally are. Her promise was literally fulfilled: “You’ll see. You will be blessed.”

When Brigham Young looked into the faces of the St. George settlers, he knew they had been pushed almost beyond endurance. The great storm had left them discouraged. The rivers seemed impossible to harness, and dams and canals had washed out time and time again. In turn, crops had failed. Desert malaria sapped the strength from many. And then there was the intense heat, with inadequate shade or shelters to provide relief. The settlers were worn and despondent. Hope was failing. Then Brigham Young did something incredible! He requested that these same people commence building a magnificent tabernacle.
Miles Romney pored carefully over the building plans. For an architect to design a fine structure and then build it with only a small outlay of cash and a minimum of skilled labor was going to be a challenge. But the “Dixie” settlers were willing, and that gave him heart. Of course local materials must be used whenever possible. That meant red sandstone and plenty of it. The necessary lumber needed to be hauled by wagon trains from Pine Valley some distance away. Since there were no local sawmills, the trusses that would span the width of the building were to be hewn by hand with broad axes.
The graceful, free-standing circular staircases would enrich the interior, and on these he would use his own woodworking skills. He hoped to contribute to a setting where the dedicated southern Utah settlers could worship their Lord.
Under the direction of my great-great-great-grandfather Miles Romney, the St. George Tabernacle was built! It stood like a jewel in the desert.
The building project provided support for many of the struggling pioneer men and their families. They were paid, not with cash, but with eggs, butter, corn, chickens, etc., commodities that were more important to a people whose very necessities had been waning. While working on their tabernacle, they learned skills and trades that they would later use to build their desert community.
The St. George Tabernacle stands today as a monument to the courage, endurance, and faith of the committed southern Utah pioneers.

It seemed everyone wanted a summer home in the humid coastal zone of Ilo, Peru, so my missionary companion and I always had plenty of doors to knock. Much of our door contacting occurred within rows of identical three-story, 12-apartment buildings. It was easy to get lost.
One night we planned to visit a woman we had met. We got her floor and apartment number right, but we mistakenly went to the apartment complex one over from hers. We knocked, and when a young man opened the door, we realized we had gone to the wrong apartment.
But before we could explain our mistake, the young man said, “Ah, elders, good to see you. My grandma went to the store, but she should be back any minute. Come on in.”
With confused looks, we entered and sat on the couch. When the grandmother arrived a few minutes later, she was thrilled to see us.
Still confused, we asked how she knew the missionaries. She explained that they had taught her two years before, but when her schedule became too busy, they had stopped visiting.
The particular night we came, she was feeling worthless. The whole week had been hard for her. She was overworked and tired and felt that nothing she did really mattered. Then we showed up, brightened her day, and gave her a second chance at the purpose-giving gospel of Jesus Christ. Our unexpected visit was God’s sign to her that she mattered to Him.
We had gone to the wrong apartment, but we were exactly where we needed to be. Losing our way brought us to find this daughter of God again. Through our imperfection in navigating, God directed us to her.
After we left, we found the woman we had planned to visit. She didn’t even notice we were late. I think about what would have happened had we found the right apartment from the start.
Had we gone where we had planned, we would have missed a much-needed chance to share the Savior’s love. But God worked through our imperfection to point us where He needed us to tread. I’m grateful He let us become lost so that we could find the one who needed direction.

The missionaries taught me the plan of salvation, which answered the questions I had about my uncle and about my own purpose in life. The elders also introduced me to the Book of Mormon. I remember reading in Alma 32 about the seed of faith developing and tasting good (see verse 28). That description was exactly how the Book of Mormon seemed to me. What I was reading and what the missionaries were teaching me rang true, felt right, and tasted good.
My mom teased me about what she called my “hermit crab stage” because I would retreat to my bedroom and spend several hours reading the Book of Mormon. Although I didn’t recognize my feelings as the Holy Ghost at that time, I felt that this path was right.

When I was a boy, I looked forward to passing the sacrament to the ward members. We deacons were trained as to our duties. One of the men in our ward, Louis, suffered from palsy. His head and hands shook so violently that he could not, by himself, partake of the sacrament. Each deacon knew that his duty in serving Louis was to hold the bread to his lips so that he might partake and to similarly place the cup of water to his mouth with one hand, while steadying his head with the other, the tray being held by another deacon while doing so. Always Louis would say, “Thank you.”

As we avoid sin and choose the right, we honor those who have come before us. When I was a young boy I heard a story about President George Albert Smith. He once dreamed he had passed away and was in the spirit world walking through a forest. Suddenly, he saw his grandfather coming toward him. He was so happy to see him! His grandfather stopped him and said, “I would like to know what you have done with my name.” President George Albert Smith, who had been named after his grandfather, paused to think about all the events of his life. Then he answered, “I have never done anything with your name of which you need be ashamed.”*

Christmas away from home. My favorite gift was my first Christmas away from home, when my parents, sister, and I went to visit my brother and his family.
We were used to family Christmases at our house, but this year my other siblings were going elsewhere, and we decided to visit my brother, Josh, and his family because they couldn’t come home. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and I thought that if we weren’t home for Christmas, it wouldn’t be fun. It seemed that Christmas just wouldn’t be the same. My parents, sister, and I had already opened our presents to each other before we left home.
When my brother picked us up at the airport, my four-year-old niece, Kialey, started to sing Christmas songs, and I started to feel better. On Christmas morning I enjoyed watching the faces of my nieces and nephews light up as they opened their presents. It was nice, instead of focusing on what I got, to look at others opening their presents and to feel their joy.Hannah S., Montana

One day, some years ago, when the youngest of my nephews was about 5, I received a phone call from his brother, 3 years his senior. “Now, Aunty Sarah,” the voice on the phone said, “you mustn’t be cross.”
Uh oh, I thought.
“R wants to talk to you, he’s very upset.”
A very sniffly voice came on the line. “Aunty Sarah, I’ve spent all of your money!”
Let me pause to explain the back story. In the days of angry birds and me being a very cool aunt, I had given my nephews access to my bank account (I know!), with strict instructions that they stick to the agreed budget and always pay me back with their pocket money at the end of the month.
This agreement had largely been honoured.
“What happened R?”
“I pressed the thing to buy the game and it didn’t work and so I pressed it a few more times, and now I’ve spent ALL of your money!”
“How much have you spent?”
“£30!”
As it turns out, I had £35 in the bank, so all was well, but here’s the point. In the light of his overwhelming distress and remorse, I would have done anything to comfort him. I did everything to console him that he had not, in fact, spent all of my money. And that if he had, his father and I would have sorted it out. Over and over, I reassured him that although terrible and enormous to him, what he had done was fixable and he could leave it with me. I told him all was well, that these app things are tricky to work when you’re 5 and that I loved him.
He stopped crying and after a time, we ended the call.
In that moment, I believe I felt some measure of the power and depth of God’s love for all of us, when we seek Him in utter despair and humility. When all feels hopeless. When the long burden feels too much to bear.
I had a glimpse into all that our Heavenly Parents must feel for us. I would have done anything to comfort and console my nephew. I didn’t care about the money, I only wished to reassure him. We know that the Saviour feels the same about us. May we learn to trust and believe that He will do, in fact has done, all that is necessary to carry the burden for us.

I remember another occasion when I was in Australia on a mission. I went up to visit the Jenolan Caves—very wonderful, spectacular caves. And as we walked through them, the guide said, “If some of you will get out and stand on that rock over there and sing a song, it will demonstrate the capacity of this cave.”
Well, the Spirit said to me, “Go over there and sing ‘O, My Father.’ I hesitated, and the crowd walked on. I lost the opportunity. I never felt good about that. The only thing that ever made me feel the Lord had forgiven me was when I heard President McKay say, “I was inspired one time to do a certain thing when I was in the mission field, and I didn’t do it.” He said, “I have always been sorry since.” He said, “Never fail to respond to the whisperings of the Spirit. Live so you can receive it, and then have the courage to do as it instructs.”

During the better part of a year, Jim Christensen, Steve Taylor, Steve Hatch, Kirk Henrichsen, and Bruce Chapman, all of the Sharon East Stake in Provo, Utah, photographed, recorded, and edited a fantastic thirty-minute three-screen slide show, complete with stereo sound track.
The presentation requires six people to set up and run the equipment, so others often get called in to help, especially since the two Steves recently left on missions. The show is in great demand, and thousands of people have seen it at many school and ward showings.
Their reason for doing the show? They wanted to show themselves as they are, young people who are products of the gospel. “It is nice to be out and alone and away from all the world’s hang-ups. We all love nature, and we wanted to show how beautiful the world around us really is. Everything is so great and the plan is so perfect, so why get all hung-up? Just go out and let the environment and your inner action with it tell you what to do,” explained Jim Christensen.
To them, the show represents life as the pictures slide through the various seasons. They really have great ideas for their next production, because now they have reaped the artist’s reward—they have moved people. They reached out and touched someone; they made them feel good and warm inside. And with their music and pictures, they have made thousands aware of the power and beauty of God’s creations. The following words and pictures are theirs.

When I was a junior in high school, I was wrestling in a state tournament against an opponent that I had previously defeated twice during the year. As we met at the center of the mat with the referee before the match, my rival looked at me and said, “Today is my day, Pinegar.” I assured him that it was not, that I had already beaten him twice during the year, and this would be the third time.
As the match began, we circled each other and then clashed. We wrestled very, very hard. He was serious about wanting to defeat me, and in fact was so serious that he turned me every way but loose. As I would go down to the mat with him, I realized I had mat burns all over my body.
In the third round, he had me in a position where my head was twisted in the three-quarter Nelson, and he had a leg hold on me. I realized if I moved any farther he would pin me. At that moment, I looked into the crowd, and several rows into the bleachers I saw a very large man, probably six feet, five inches tall and about 280 pounds. From the expression on his face, it looked like he was trying to help me. So I watched him for just that brief second, and I realized that if he was trying to help me the two of us could surely defeat this fellow who was about to pin me.
I don’t know if it was because of that, but almost immediately after I had turned my face away from him I noticed my opponent had slipped his right arm over a little bit too far. If I could hook his elbow, I could reverse the hold and pin him instead of being pinned. Without hesitating I quickly pulled on his elbow. Over he went and I had him pinned.
Following my win, I was anxious to let the man know I appreciated his help. As I stood waiting for the referee to raise my hand, I looked around to see if I could find the man. In the same place I had seen him before I saw him standing very straight with a satisfied, if not proud, look on his face. He looked at me and smiled. I guess I can confess that this man was my father.

When I was learning about the Church, I read Jacob 5:74. It stuck with me from the moment I read it. I was a very active member of my previous church for my whole life and had always had a desire to serve God. I even hoped to one day study philosophy and theology in order to serve Him. I had already passed my entrance exams to study philosophy.
But I will never forget when I first read that scripture. I remember that it was the night after I had first attended an LDS Church service. During one of the breaks between classes, I saw on the bulletin board the revelation received by President Thomas S. Monson concerning the lowering of the missionary age.
When I read Jacob 5:74 that night, I knew that I had to serve God. And somehow, looking at the missionaries—those two young men who were the same age as me—giving their lives for Him, I knew that this was how I could do so. The night before that Church service, I had decided to get baptized. The night after the service, I decided to go on a mission. Now I have returned home honorably after serving the beautiful people of the Philippines Cebu East Mission.
Josef Gutierrez, Batangas, Philippines

My Sunday School class isn’t always reverent. I love listening to the lesson every week, but sometimes it seems as though others in my class do not. Often they talk to each other or play games on electronic devices while our teacher is trying to teach us. Sadly, I sometimes find myself part of the problem.
One week we were worse than usual, and by the end of class, our teacher was reduced to tears because nobody would listen to her lesson. As we walked out of the classroom, I felt bad for her.
The next Sunday our teacher explained that she had prayed a lot that week, seeking for guidance, and it occurred to her that she needed to show us a Church film. She began the movie, which was about the life of Jesus Christ and the miracles He performed.
As I thought about the film that evening, I felt something different. Suddenly I realized that I was feeling the Spirit, more so than I ever had before. Immediately I decided that I wanted to make changes in my life to be more like the Savior, and I realized the experience in Sunday School that day had greatly strengthened my testimony. I am so thankful for my Sunday School teacher and everything she does for our class every week.

The young women in the Fort Wayne Indiana Stake were in the habit of sharing their talents and service with everyone all year round. So when it came time to have An Evening for Sharing program, they decided to have something a little different and share with each other some fun and some good learning experiences. First of all they called a steering committee of young women. Then they handed out questionnaires to all the young women in the stake to find out what they would like to do. It seemed unanimous—they all wanted to have a 24-hour time for sharing (really a one-day girls’ conference) and call it “Unlimited.”
They began the event with a Friday evening filled with games, food, a special introduction of the theme, and an original song written by one of the Beehive girls, Becky Wall. The next morning, workshops in the six areas of focus in the Young Women program were conducted. Adult specialists from the stake presented workshops on the Treasures of Truth book, quilting, social dancing, macramé, speaking to the deaf, and other topics. (The girls sang “I Am a Child of God” in sign language for weeks after the activity.) After the workshops they held a testimony meeting and shared their most priceless possession with each other.
Eighty girls and leaders participated. They turned what is usually one evening into 24-hours of sharing.

It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, okay, maybe it was a sunny afternoon.
Whenever it was, somebody sneaked up outside the window of James B. Young’s dormitory room on the Ricks College campus. They pulled out a roll of masking tape. Then cautiously, they formed letters—backwards—on the window, so that when Jamie opened the curtains in the morning, he would read the words the right way. This was their message:
“We Love U.”
All of which brings us back to the masked message taped on Jamie’s window one dark and stormy night.
“We Love U,” it said.
If James Brigham Young has anything to say about it, that may well become the official nickname for Ricks College.