Gospel Story Finder

In fact, I was driving into work early one morning as I was having all these thoughts about looking at others through Heavenly Fathers eyes and not judging others, when I was given an opportunity to do just that. I came up on a four-way stop where three cars were waiting their turn. As each took their turn there was one driver just sitting there and not taking his turn or looking up. He just sat there. As it appeared to me he may have been looking at his phone. It was past his turn to go but he was not moving. So I started to pull forward to make eye contact. "Hmm..." I thought. "I wonder if everything is okay."

I started driving through the intersection and then stopped in front of his car. He looked up and I mouthed, "Are you okay?" He seemed annoyed, by my perception, for his reaction was with his hand and he mouthed to me, "Just drive through". The next thought into my head was "Really? That is not a parking lot. That is a stop sign."

"Oops," I immediately said to myself. That is not looking at him in an eternal perspective. Maybe he is lost. Maybe he just felt the need to say a silent prayer. Give him the benefit of the doubt. So you see I am the one that needs to work on this whole concept the most, but I am thankful I have the opportunities to try and try again.

My parents established a family tradition in our home which was fun for me in my early years and has become even more meaningful as I reflect back on it as the years have passed. On the first birthday of each child, the family would gather in the living room. In the center of the living room floor, our parents would place articles for the one-year-old child to select. The selection to be made might indicate an interest the child would pursue in life. The articles were the Bible, a child’s bottle filled with milk, a toy, and a savings bank filled with coins. The child was placed on one side of the room and the family on the other side. Family members would encourage the child to crawl toward the objects and make a selection. This was all in fun, of course.
I was told that I selected the bank and went into finance as my profession. I watched my brother Ted select the scriptures, and he pursued law as his chosen profession. Over the years he has relied on the scriptures as a basis for his judgments. My youngest brother, Bob, was the well-rounded member of the family. He crawled over, sat down on the Bible, put the bottle of milk in his mouth, and then held the toy in one hand and the bank in the other.

A new animal was coming to live in the zoo, and the other animals were excited. One morning a big truck backed up to an empty cage, and out stepped the new animal. The zookeeper hung a sign outside the cage that said “ZELMGID.”

The other animals stared in amazement. The zelmgid did not look like any animal that they had ever seen. He had a long neck and a long tail, and when he opened his mouth, he barked. One by one the other animals turned away from the cage. Because the zelmgid was so different, they were not sure how to treat him.

The zelmgid was very lonely. The animals ignored him, so he had no one to talk to. He was so sad that he didn’t eat. The zookeeper began to worry. People stopped visiting the zoo because the new animal was sad and the other animals hid in the backs of their cages.

One day the elephant heard the zelmgid barking to himself. “The zelmgid does have a good trunk,” he told the giraffe. “It’s not as long as mine, but it’s really quite nice.”

The giraffe stretched her neck to take a closer look. “Look at his strong neck. He can reach as high as I can.”

The lion was looking quietly at the new animal’s mane. “My goodness! He has an excellent mane—almost as thick as mine.”

Just then the zebra trotted by the cage. “His coat has a very nice pattern,” she said.

“And his horns are curved just right,” the ibex said, “just like mine.”

When the monkey came swinging from the trees, he said, “Look at that handsome tail. I wonder if the zelmgid would like to play tag?”

Finally the duck waddled by the cage. “What fine feet you have. You probably can swim faster than I can,” she said to him.

The zelmgid stopped crying and thanked the duck for the compliment. Soon all the animals were talking together. They felt much happier. Even though the zelmgid looked different, the other animals had all found something about the new animal that they liked.

You, the children of the Lord’s church today, are following Jesus down into the waters of baptism and beyond. Nine-year-old Sandra Martinez of Lakeview, Oregon, says of her baptism: “My mom said that I should pray about whether or not to be baptized, so that night I prayed. The next day I got a warm feeling in my heart that I should be baptized. I felt very close to Jesus and felt that He wanted me to be baptized. The bishop baptized me in Spanish so that my family could understand.”

Not long ago, our youngest daughter, Christie, was getting ready for a party when I heard this horrible sound. It was somewhere between a scream and a groan. Fearing she had burned herself with the curling iron that had been left on for an hour (with five daughters, Rex has spent the past fifteen years running around our house unplugging curling irons—that’s how he trained for marathons), I rushed into her bathroom. There she sat on the counter with her feet in the sink and her face two inches away from the mirror.

“Gross,” she kept repeating. “Gross! I am so ugly, I can’t believe I would even go out of this house!” I stepped closer to see what was so gross, but it escaped me.

“Look at this,” she said, turning her face toward me. “Did you ever see anything so gross?”

“What? Where?” was my honest response. “You look wonderful to me!”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re my mother. If you can’t see this red thing on my face then you are blind. It makes me look so ugly.”

As she turned into the light, I finally saw the object of her distress, but just barely. It was a tiny bit pink and vaguely visible. In no way did it render her whole person ugly. I stood there by her side, the two of us looking at her reflection in the mirror. She saw only one thing, yet I could see so much more. I saw a beautiful young girl and could envision her beyond the beginning of her teens and see what she would become. She could see only the moment of anguish. I could see the loving heart and caring spirit. She could see only the blemish, a magnification of what was wrong, and it became the whole of her. No amount of talking on my part could convince her that my image of her was the clear one.

I thought to myself, “How can she not see who she really is? How can she complain when she has been given so much? How can one little blemish diminish her image of herself? Why can’t she see the total picture of who she is and who she can be?”

And then I had a humbling thought. Aren’t we all at times a little like Christie? How often do we fail to see things in their eternal perspective? How often do we let one flaw, one mistake, one bad grade, one disappointment, or even many disappointments loom so large before our eyes that we fail to see circumstances as they really are?

I am an American exchange student in Bateman’s Bay, Australia. I am the only Latter-day Saint in the town, and the nearest branch is 100 miles away, so I don’t get to church very often. I wrote to my mother and told her how much I miss the Church, and to help me out, someone is sending me the New Era every month. I love the New Era. It’s brought me so much closer to the Church, even though I’m the only member for miles. The New Era has motivated me to start reading the Book of Mormon, and I can hardly wait to get home and participate in the Young Women activities.
Lisa MatsonBateman’s Bay, Australia

Elder Benjamin M. Z. Tai’s paternal grandfather was captured, imprisoned, and executed by Japanese forces invading Hong Kong during World War II.
Decades later, Elder Tai met his future wife, Naomi Toma, from Japan, while serving as elders quorum president in his student ward at Brigham Young University. Naomi was serving as Relief Society president.
When Benjamin told his father, emeritus General Authority Elder Kwok Yuen Tai, that he was dating and hoping to marry Naomi, his father expressed no bitterness. In fact, Naomi’s parents, Rikuo and Fumiko Toma, came to Hong Kong to visit Benjamin’s parents. Her parents noted that the gospel of Jesus Christ had made their marriage possible. The couple married in the Salt Lake Temple on December 23, 1995. They are the parents of six children.
“We come from different cultures, but there are threads of common faith and sacrifice,” says Elder Tai. Elder Tai knows that those threads of faith and sacrifice will now connect him with Latter-day Saints across the globe.

I really enjoy school and the time I get to spend with my friends. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have even more friends to play with.
I got an invitation to a friend’s birthday party. The only bad thing about that was that it was on a Sunday. I told my friend that I go to church on that day. I decided to take him his birthday present on Monday.
I know that Heavenly Father wants me to spend the Sabbath Day with my family, doing activities that are going to help me know more about the gospel and that will teach me how to be a better example to my little brother.
I am trying to be like Jesus Christ.

When I was young, I worked in my father’s factory during vacations. The first question my father always asked after I received my salary was “What are you going to do with your money?”

I knew the answer and responded, “Pay my tithing and save for my mission.”

After working with him for about eight years and constantly answering his same question, my father figured he had taught me about paying my tithing. What he didn’t realize was that I had learned this important principle in just one weekend. Let me tell you how I learned that principle.

After some events related to a civil war in Central America, my father’s business went bankrupt. He went from about 200 full-time employees to fewer than five sewing operators who worked as needed in the garage of our home. One day during those difficult times, I heard my parents discussing whether they should pay tithing or buy food for the children.

On Sunday, I followed my father to see what he was going to do. After our Church meetings, I saw him take an envelope and put his tithing in it. That was only part of the lesson. The question that remained for me was what we were going to eat.

Early Monday morning, some people knocked on our door. When I opened it, they asked for my father. I called for him, and when he arrived, the visitors told him about an urgent sewing order they needed as quickly as possible. They told him that the order was so urgent that they would pay for it in advance. That day I learned the principles of paying tithing and the blessings that follow.

To make matters worse, in July 1866, a serious cholera epidemic reached England from the continent of Europe. London was hardest hit. Fifty-six hundred people died there in a matter of days.
The sight of hundreds of abandoned children roaming the streets, their parents having been victims of the epidemic, helped Thomas John Barnardo decide to establish homes for children who had no one to care for them and no place to live.

When I was about five years old, one of my best friends invited me to his birthday party. I was so excited! But when I got home and gave Mom the invitation, she told me that it was on a Sunday. She didn’t say that I couldn’t go, but she didn’t say that I could. She said that I should pray about it.
So I prayed about it. About five days before the party, I thought, “What would I do if Jesus were here—go or don’t go to the party? I don’t think I would go if He were here.”
So I called my friend and said, “I can’t come to the party because it’s on a Sunday.” He said, “That’s fine.” I felt disappointed, but I knew that it was the right thing to do.

Well do I remember my most unique “deed” to sustain a prophet. As a medical doctor and cardiac surgeon, I had the responsibility of performing open-heart surgery on President Spencer W. Kimball in 1972, when he was Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He needed a very complex operation. But I had no experience doing such a procedure on a 77-year-old patient in heart failure. I did not recommend the operation and so informed President Kimball and the First Presidency. But, in faith, President Kimball chose to have the operation, only because it was advised by the First Presidency. That shows how he sustained his leaders! And his decision made me tremble!

Thanks to the Lord, the operation was a success. When President Kimball’s heart resumed beating, it did so with great power! At that very moment, I had a clear witness of the Spirit that this man would one day become President of the Church!3

You know the outcome. Only 20 months later, President Kimball became President of the Church. And he provided bold and courageous leadership for many years.

Christlike love was shown not long ago in a Houston, Texas, branch. When one woman’s husband died, she could not stop crying. No one was able to calm her. Then a friend came to brush her hair, willingly offering her love. As a result of this simple act of caring, the bereaved sister’s uncontrollable sobbing eased, and she was comforted. She became composed and was able to visit with the sisters who came to help clean her house and bring her food. She found peace in her friend’s loving touch—and then, in the calm that followed, she found gratitude for the loving service of the other sisters.

I remember a missionary who had just recently returned from the mission field who came into the Institute of Religion when I was there. He had committed a grave mistake that caused him to think that his life was ruined forever. And I said to him, “God loves you just as much today as he did last Thursday,” and he couldn’t believe it. The thought had never occurred to him. He wept like a child. You know, sometimes we think that God loves us to the extent that we please him, to the extent that we’re good boys and girls, good men and women. Love from God is not earned. It is not merited; if it is, it is justice and reciprocity and reward. Love comes from a loving heart, and God’s love is unconditional. And he loves the worst of us and the best of us equally, I believe. We cause him to suffer when we do wrong, when he sees us live our lives in ways that destroy us, and when he sees us hurting other people—this must cause him pain.

There are lots of great days every year: Christmas, Easter, the last day of school. But my favorite day of the year is my birthday. I love having a party with all my friends, and birthday cake is my favorite food. And I love getting presents!
Today was my birthday—the best day of the year! I got to wear the birthday crown and be the line leader at school. At lunch I got to eat a special dessert. All day I walked around humming, “Happy birthday to me!”
I ran home from school. Mom had decorated the house with balloons and streamers and a big banner that said, “Happy Birthday, Caleb!”
“I like it!” I told her. “I’m ready for the party!”
Soon my friends all came. I opened the door and showed them where they could put the presents they brought. Some presents were big. Some were small. Some were square. Some were round. I couldn’t wait to open them all!
We played games and ate pizza and cake. Then Mom called, “Time for presents!” My friends sat in a circle in the living room, and I got to sit in the middle while they handed me presents. I got a water gun, a ball, and a model airplane. Every present was better than the last!
Then my friend Collin handed me a present wrapped in light blue paper. It wasn’t very heavy. It wasn’t very big. It didn’t look like anything special. As I ripped the paper, I was already looking around for what the next present would be.
Then I saw what Collin had given me—it was a picture of the temple. All my friends crowded around to see what it was. They were all talking loud and trying to pass me another present, but I felt quiet and warm when I looked at the picture.
“Thanks, Collin,” I said. “I love it.”
When my friends left, Mom and I put the presents in my room.
“That was really nice of your friends,” Mom said. “We’ll have to write them all thank-you notes.”
I nodded and looked around at my presents—the water gun, the ball, the airplane. Then I remembered the warm feeling I got when I opened Collin’s gift.
“The picture of the temple is my favorite,” I said. “I’m going to put it on my dresser right now!”
As I put the picture up, I realized I was singing a different song than I had been all day.
“I love to see the temple,” I sang, and I smiled. It had been a pretty great birthday.

In 1988, we were attending a mission presidents' seminar in Singapore. While checking in at the hotel counter, out of nowhere someone called out "Bishop Goo!" We looked up and there was Sunny, who had attended BYU-Hawaii. He happened to be one of the managers of this big hotel. Then a young lady came running up to greet us and it was Diana Lim. They both worked at the hotel. Well, within 10 minutes we got a key to the penthouse suite of the hotel instead of a regular room. I told my husband I am sure glad he worked at BYU-Hawaii.

In stark contrast, consider the example of another young man. Through the years I have watched how his parents have taught him from infancy to unwaveringly live the commandments of God. By example and precept, they nurtured him, together with their other children, in truth. They encouraged the development of discipline and sacrifice to obtain worthy goals. This young man chose swimming to instill in his character those qualities. Early-morning practice sessions required discipline and sacrifice. Over time he excelled in that sport.
Then came the challenges—for example, a championship swim meet on Sunday. Would he participate? Would he rationalize an exception to his rule of not swimming on Sunday to help his team win the championship? No, he would not yield, even under intense peer pressure. He was called names, even physically abused. But he would not yield. The rejection of friends, the loneliness, and the pressure brought times of sadness and tears. But he would not yield. He was learning firsthand what each of us must come to know—the reality of Paul’s counsel to Timothy: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Tim. 3:12). Over the years this consistent pattern of righteous living—woven from hundreds of correct decisions, some in the face of great challenge—has developed a character of strength and capacity. Now, as a missionary, he is appreciated by his peers for his ability to work, his knowledge of truth, his unwavering devotion, and his determination to share the gospel. One who earlier was rejected by his peers now has become a respected leader of his peers. Is there a message for you in these examples?

Greg hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. We all hushed up as if we were waiting for an important news bulletin. “We’re going down the block to do some painting.”
“Huh?” I stared at him. “You mean work?”
“Mark, don’t be so dumb.” He held up a can of black spray paint. “I ‘found’ it in the hardware store.”
We laughed. That meant that Greg had stolen the paint. I felt kind of funny in the stomach. I really didn’t like the idea. But I was new in the neighborhood. If I said anything, the other guys wouldn’t be my friends.
Greg led us to a house with a wooden fence around the backyard. He handed the paint to Sam.
“Wait a minute,” I blurted out.
Greg cuffed me on the side of the head. “Are you chicken?”
I snorted. “Me? Of course not.”
When Greg wasn’t looking, I rubbed my head where he had hit me. It hurt. He’s a year older than I am, and a lot bigger.
After Sam finished painting words on the fence, Greg and a couple of other kids took their turns. Then someone handed the can to me. I took a deep breath and pushed the button on the can. Black paint sprayed out.
“Hey!” The shout came from an unseen person.
We took off running. Then I tripped. I jumped up, but someone grabbed my arm. My heart rate speeded up so much that I thought I would either faint or get sick all over my new sneakers.
I peeked up at a gray-haired man wearing glasses. “What were you doing?” he asked, not loosening his grip any.
“I don’t know,” I said, though it sounded silly.
“Who gave you the right to vandalize my property?”
“Uh, I’m sorry. Are you going to call the police?” I asked. My voice shook like I was going to cry.
“I believe I’d rather keep this between me and your parents.”
I took a shaky breath, then told him my name and phone number. But I would rather have gone to jail than have my parents know what I had done.
Dad came over right away. He looked as though he couldn’t decide whether he was more hurt or more angry at what I had done. I kind of shrunk down inside my shirt.
“Mark will pay for all damages, Mr. Parker,” Dad said.
I gulped hard. My allowance doesn’t cover half the stuff I want to buy. I figured that it would take a big part of my childhood years to pay for repainting that fence.
“I believe I have a better idea,” Mr. Parker said. “I had planned to repaint it, anyway. How about if I buy the paint and Mark does the painting?”
I sagged with relief. I wasn’t looking forward to the work, but painting the fence was a lot better than paying for damages.
I wouldn’t have been so happy if I’d known what else was in store for me at home—Mom and Dad said I couldn’t go anywhere with my friends for six weeks!
“Hurting others is against the word of God,” Mr. Parker said when I went over to his place. He handed me a brush.
I shrugged. “I know.”
“You sure didn’t act like it when you worked my fence over.”
I turned away and carefully drew the brush out of the paint can. I took my time making my first brush stroke nice and neat. I figured that if Mr. Parker saw that I could do a good job all by myself, he would leave me alone.
Mr. Parker didn’t take the hint. In fact, he got a brush of his own and started painting too.
My hand shook. I dribbled paint onto my pants leg.
“Careful,” Mr. Parker said.
“I can’t help it—you make me nervous!” I blurted. I dug the toe of my sneaker into the ground.
“I do? Now, why is that?”
“You keep watching me as if I’m bad or something.”
“Is that so? Well, I know you’re not bad, or you wouldn’t be here now.”
“I never did anything like that before. But Greg said …” I stopped and looked away quickly. I hadn’t meant to mention anyone else.
Mr. Parker chuckled softly. “Greg must be one of the other young fellows I saw running away that day.”
“You saw them?”
“I sure did.”
“You didn’t even ask me to tell you who they were.”
“I was a boy once myself.” Mr. Parker winked at me.
I felt a knot ease out of my shoulders. Mr. Parker was turning out to be a lot nicer than I’d figured.
We started painting again. After a while he said, “Do you ever go to church?”
“We used to.”
“I’m going to ask your folks to come with me on Sunday.”
“They’re pretty busy.”
“We’ll let them decide. I think your parents will welcome the chance for you to meet the right kind of friends.”
My face turned warm. I leaned over and concentrated on my painting. “I have friends,” I mumbled.
“Sure you do, son.”
Mr. Parker didn’t say anything else. I expected him to start preaching and tell me how bad my friends were—how they were not only a bad influence, but how they ran off and left me. I was all set to get mad and tell him my friends were great.
But all he did was start whistling. I recognized the tune—it was a hymn.
My parents were eager to take Mr. Parker up on his church offer. I told myself that it didn’t matter—at least I had somewhere else to go for the next six weeks. I couldn’t wait until my grounding was over and I could see Greg and the other boys again.
The only thing was, I got busy with the kids from Primary. By the time the six weeks were up, I was involved in a ward project to get books for a shelter for the homeless. After that, we Blazers all got parts in a play that we were going to put on at the care center.
The next time I saw Greg, he was leading his gang past the park. He stopped suddenly, and everyone piled into the back of him. They reminded me of robots playing follow the leader.
“Mark, I haven’t seen you around.”
“I … uh … I’ve been busy.” I felt a familiar shrinking in my stomach. Funny, I’d never realized it before, but I always felt that way around Greg.
“Yeah, I heard you were busy painting old man Parker’s fence.”
Greg and the robots cracked up. I clenched my fists.
“Come on—we’re doing something fun.” Greg held up a cloth sack.
I knew that they planned to steal oranges from Mr. McKellar’s grove. Six weeks ago I would have stumbled over my own feet rushing to join them. Now all I felt was sorry for them.
“No, thanks.” I turned and walked away. I had new friends now. My kind of friends. The shrinking in my stomach disappeared. It didn’t come back.

I’d like to tell you about the circumstances of Koen’s birth. On Father’s day last year, in Sharlie’s 31st week of a very healthy and uneventful pregnancy, her water broke. They then went to the hospital, and Sharlie was immediately admitted and told she would remain there until the baby was delivered. This is not as routine as it sounds. It is best for the baby to remain and develop inside the womb as long as possible; but, once the water breaks, the risk of infection also increases with time, so it’s a bit of a balancing act.
Of course this was totally unexpected, and the timing could not have been worse (is there ever good timing for such a thing?). Sharlie was working full-time, and Joshua was in his last semester of an accelerated master’s program in architecture, finishing up his final projects. In addition, Joshua was applying for architecture jobs.
The doctors determined that Sharlie would be induced July 5, the beginning of the 34th week. However, the night before, she developed a fever of 104 and began having contractions. Obviously, this was a very scary time for all of us. To quicken the labor and decrease the chances of the infection transferring to the baby, she was immediately induced. Koen was born at 12:07 a.m., July 5, and immediately placed in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU). Koen weighed 3 lbs 14 oz at birth – he was tiny. The doctors said Koen would likely remain in NICU for 2 months, but he made good progress and was released after only 16 days.
What are the lessons here? 1) We all have trials. Count on it. 2) What is important is how we respond to our trials. I never heard Joshua or Sharlie ask, “Why is this happening to me?” or anything similar to that. Their attitude was more in line with, 1) many others have much more difficult trials, 2) we are in a good hospital with great people and equipment, so everything will work out, and 3) what can we learn from this?

When I became a priest in the Windsor Ward, London Ontario Stake, our Young Men’s president, Brother Sandor, encouraged us to pass the sacrament and perform baptisms as a way to exercise our priesthood. In one Sunday lesson, he also taught us about giving blessings. He said, “You must be bold enough to say what the Spirit prompts you to say, but be humble enough not to make up your own words!”
Not long after that lesson, a young convert in our ward was sustained as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, and Brother Sandor asked me to be the “voice” in the ordination. I was scared. I had never laid my hands on anybody’s head before, and I felt so inadequate. But then the Spirit reassured me that it would be fine for me to do it, and I was reminded of what my Young Men’s president had taught us.
The young man to be ordained sat down in the chair, and I stood directly behind him. When we were all ready Brother Sandor guided me through the ordinance prayer and I repeated every word he said. After we had finished the ordination and said, “… and we wish to pronounce a blessing on your head at this time …” Brother Sandor looked at me and indicated that I was on my own.
At that point, the priesthood entirely changed its meaning for me. It was no longer just a title, but the actual authority to act in God’s name, and I was giving that authority to someone else. I paused and waited for the Spirit to whisper to me what I was to say. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings I had that day during the blessing, but I can say that I now have a stronger testimony that the power of the priesthood is real.