Gospel Story Finder

We have here Captain Larry J. Chesley, Major Jay C. Hess, and Lieutenant Commander David J. Rollins. Will you stand up, please? Captain Chesley, United States Air Force, was a prisoner of war for seven years. He comes from the Burley Stake, Star Ward. Major Jay Hess, United States Air Force, was a prisoner of war for six years, from Bountiful East Stake. Lieutenant Commander Rollins, United States Navy, a prisoner of war for six years, is from the San Diego North Stake.
These three young men represent many of those boys who have gone through the fire of adversity. We just want you men to know that our hearts have been touched by the announcement of your faith, your confidence in your country and in your commander-in-chief, that you have come through thus far. We want to say to you that we have been praying, we have been hoping with every means at our command; and we now say to the priesthood, brethren, will you put your arms around these boys, and help them now to make their adjustments as may be necessary in their homecoming.
The Lord bless you, brethren. We love you and the many others who have been in these circumstances and have come through the fire, and have now been prepared to go forward. You will be the kind of men that we look to for the standards of our youth in the years that lie ahead. Thank you, brethren. We welcome you home.

Choose a different ending. Having a scary thought is kind of like thinking about a story with a bad ending. For example, if you are feeling afraid of dogs, you may be telling yourself a story where the dog bites you. Try making up a different ending for the story: “I saw my neighbor’s dog. I wanted to run away, but instead I walked calmly by. Instead of biting me, the dog wagged his tail.” Then draw a picture of the happy ending.

“Coqui!”
“Coqui!”
The melodious, double-tone chirp is the only sound that moves the moist, heavy night air. The tiny coqui frogs, indigenous to Puerto Rico and a few surrounding islands, seem to be adding their sweet song to the marvelous event that is about to occur.
The song floats through the open windows of the church, where a large crowd has gathered. They sit quietly, expectantly, as the ceiling fans lazily rotate, stirring the palms that decorate the building.
A movement at the front of the room breaks the stillness. Two young men, dressed in white, descend the steps into the baptismal font and face each other, smiling. An arm is raised. Hands are placed just so, and a strong, youthful voice rises above the sound of the coquis.
“Habiendo sido comisionado por Jesu Cristo, yo te bautizo en el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo, y del Espiritu Santo. Amen.”
One young man is submerged in the water by the other, and he rises with a new smile on his lips. It is reflected on the face of everyone who watches. Another youth in Puerto Rico has taken upon him the name of Christ.
Gerard Aquirre, 18, the newest member of the San Juan Ward, has only known Pablo Chavez, 17, a few weeks, yet after attending family home evening with the Chavez family, it seems like they have been brothers forever. It was only natural that he should ask Pablo to baptize him. Pablo was ecstatic, yet more than a little nervous. After all, it was the first baptism he’d ever performed. But he’ll assure you it won’t be his last.

Yet we had still another problem: no podium. As we prayed to know how to get one, I learned that a local elementary school had some wood we could use. For days I searched for a carpenter who could build a podium from the wood, but I couldn’t find one. Finally, on a Saturday, I decided to build it myself. I had never carried such heavy objects, and I would never have believed I could finish the podium in one day, but God helped me. The podium was ready for church the next day. All the members were amazed, but not as amazed as I was. It seemed a miracle to me.

The Ramabulana family from South Africa each took a turn to share how they #ConnectwithChrist:
“How I connect with Jesus Christ is when I help people, and then they say thank you and it makes me feel good inside.” —Mulungisi, brother

It was the Sunday before Christmas. As soon as I got up that morning, I had the feeling it was not going to be a good day. To begin with, my hairbrush was missing. I suspected my three-year-old brother, Jeffy, had taken it, and sure enough, I found it in his toy box. “Mom,” I complained, “I’m getting sick and tired of Jeffy getting into my things!”
Mom was busy giving the baby a bath, and she acted as if she hadn’t even heard me. “Amy,” she said, “we’re going to need to change our plans for tonight’s family Christmas program. Daddy just called from church, and that new family, the Hansens, are still living in a motel. He’d like to invite them for dinner and to spend the evening with us. There’s nothing less like the Sabbath than the place they are staying.”
“But Mom, you can’t do that!” I complained. “You know I’ve planned this for two months, and it’s just for our family. All the parts are taken.
“Besides,” I went on, getting louder and louder, “they have a lot of little children who would probably mess up the whole house.” Then I started to cry.
Mother wrapped the baby in a towel and turned to face me. “Amy, I had no idea that it meant this much to you. Please don’t be so upset. I’ll just tell Dad when we get to church, and he can tell the Hansens that it won’t work out.”
All during sacrament meeting I watched the three Hansen children—two-, three-, and four-year-old boys—climbing all over the benches and squirming across their parents’ laps. Brother and Sister Hansen looked pretty tired by the time they’d taken each boy out about five times. It’s just as well, I thought to myself. I can’t even imagine what four little boys would do to my bedroom!
I felt relieved all the way to Primary. On the way down the hall, I noticed that it had started snowing outside. It was going to be a perfect family night.
When I got to class, Sister Martin, my Merrie Miss teacher, wanted to know what we thought it might have been like to be strangers in a strange town, like Mary and Joseph were when they went to Bethlehem. All of us had an answer to that question. Even Mandi Perkins, who hardly ever says anything, said, “I bet they felt lonely.”
Then Sister Martin asked us why we thought the innkeeper hadn’t let this poor, lonely couple stay at his house. We really had to think about that for a while. The innkeeper had always been one of the unimportant characters in the Christmas story. I’d never thought about him having feelings.
“Well,” I suggested, “he probably felt busy with all his other company.”
Jenny Peterson thought the innkeeper might have been thinking that this couple, who were soon going to have a baby, would be too much trouble. That’s when I started to feel a little uncomfortable.
“He probably had things planned the way he wanted them, and here came some people to mess up his plans,” my best friend, Rachel, added. Suddenly this wasn’t a Christmas story that happened two thousand years ago. This was something that was happening today.
Mandi Perkins added the final blow—“The innkeeper missed the whole idea, didn’t he? The two most important guests in the world came to his place, and he wouldn’t let them in.”
“Do you suppose, girls,” said Sister Martin, “That we ever act like the innkeeper? That maybe we become a little selfish and miss helping someone? Open your Bibles and let’s read Matthew 25:40 [Matt. 25:40]. ‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”
By that time my eyes were so filled with tears that the words seemed to be swimming across the page. Here were the Hansens without a place to live, and I was acting like the innkeeper, not wanting them to bother me. I knew how I would act if the Hansens were Mary and Joseph and the Baby Jesus, and I knew that Heavenly Father would want me to treat them the same way.
Luckily Sister Martin didn’t ask me to give the prayer, because I was having a hard time swallowing. Afterward I hurried out of the room as quickly as I could and headed down the hall to where I saw my parents. I heard my dad saying to the Hansens, “We’re awfully sorry, but our daughter—”
I didn’t even think. I rushed up and blurted out, “There’s room in the inn!” and then I blushed deep red.
Dad saw my red eyes and must have guessed what had happened because he just continued: “As I was saying,”—he put his arm around me—“our daughter has planned a very special Christmas program for tonight, and I think she wants to warn you that you’ll be having a part in it!”

Not long ago President Eyring’s home teacher, Brother Moore, challenged him to get out and meet the people around the campus. President Eyring knew it was a good idea but, due to his concern over new changes and programs that were being explored and researched, he was a little slow to accept the challenge. Not long after receiving the first challenge, President Eyring received a call from Brother Moore. In his voice there was an apparent sense of urgency. “Have you made your visit?” he asked. President Eyring replied that he had not but that he had set aside some time for it in the next week. Brother Moore’s voice lowered and he said, “President, you had better not wait. I’ve been told twice now that you should be out there.” Nothing further needed to be said. President Eyring was out on campus that day. The priorities of the president of Ricks College were literally changed by the spirit and caring of a humble but dutiful home teacher. And the results? The president has had incredible experiences that have brought him closer to the pulse of Ricks College. Now he spends one morning every week just walking and moving about the campus to find out more about his stewardship.

Just before my twentieth birthday, I was called on a mission to Finland, where I used both the Finnish and Russian languages. I loved teaching the gospel, particularly in a foreign language. Consequently, when I returned home, I continued my study of Russian. I liked the language, and I wanted to teach it. I also hoped that someday I would be able to teach the gospel in countries where missionaries were not yet allowed to preach the gospel.
After I graduated from the university, I worked in the Family History Department of the Church and was assigned to the countries in Eastern Europe. Whenever I traveled to Poland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Hungary, and other countries, I felt that the time was not far off when the Church would be able to send missionaries to them. There was a special feeling among the people. They desired the freedom they knew others in the world enjoyed. More and more they could see and hear about freedom on TV and on the radio. The people were tired of not being able to solve their problems or become what they wanted to be. In many countries the people also wanted to know about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. These important changes in the people, and other changes in their governments, led to the introduction of the gospel into their countries.
In 1987 I was called as president of the Austria Vienna East Mission, which was created to work with the countries in Eastern Europe. The mission began with just a very few missionaries, and the number of baptisms was small. Now many missionaries are serving in countries like Russia, Bulgaria, Poland, Hungary, and Greece, where people only a few years ago could not worship Heavenly Father as they wanted. Many people are listening to the missionaries and are accepting the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“The most important building in our town in addition to the schoolhouse was our ward meetinghouse. The members had to take care of the building because we had no janitor. We had to clean and sweep the meetinghouse as well as care for the grounds. We also had to fill coal buckets and put them by the furnace. We took great pride in taking care of the Lord’s house.

The other evening I picked up a new publication of the writings of Dr. Hugh Nibley, a man my age whom I have known and admired for many years. On the dust jacket of the book I read these words:
“As a young man he memorized vast portions of Shakespeare and studied Old English, Latin, Greek, and other languages. As a student at Berkeley, he began reading at the southwest corner of the ninth level of the library and worked his way down to the northeast corner of the first level, studying every significant book that caught his eye.” (Old Testament and Related Studies, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1986.)
His encyclopedic knowledge has given him tremendous and well-deserved status among his academic peers. It also has made him a powerful advocate of the work of the Lord. His appetite for learning has been whetted by the gospel he loves.

Some years ago I accompanied President Hugh B. Brown (1883–1975), a counselor in the First Presidency, on a tour of the Samoan Mission. The members and missionaries in American Samoa had advised us that a severe drought had imperiled their water supply to the point that our chapels and our school would of necessity be closed if rain did not soon fall. They asked us to unite our faith with theirs.
Signs of the drought were everywhere as we left the airport at Pago Pago and journeyed to the school at Mapusaga. The sun was shining brightly; not a cloud appeared in the azure blue sky. The members rejoiced as the meeting began. He who offered the opening prayer thanked our Heavenly Father for our safe arrival, knowing that we would somehow bring the desired rainfall. As President Brown rose to speak, the sun was soon shaded by gathering clouds. Then we heard the clap of thunder and saw the flash of lightning. The heavens opened. The rains fell. The drought ended.
Later at the airport, as we prepared for the short flight to Western Samoa, the pilot of the small plane said to the ground crew: “This is the most unusual weather pattern I have ever seen. Not a cloud is in the sky except over the Mormon school at Mapusaga. I don’t understand it!”
President Brown said to me: “Here’s your opportunity. Go help him understand.” I did so.

Like many other young adults, Victor Kim of South Korea has found himself in situations where others didn’t share his standards:

“Sometimes at work, my colleagues and I went out to eat as a team, and they always drank. There was a lot of pressure to join in, and it wasn’t easy to turn everybody down. I always made sure that they knew beforehand that I don’t drink. Even still, I had to be strong and show confidence in my boundaries.

“In my experience, those who don’t set clear boundaries can become complacent and can eventually convince themselves that a little sin is OK. They can become numb to the Spirit and no longer see what is wrong and why it’s wrong.

“Peer pressure can also be really strong. Those who aren’t strong might eventually join in because what their friends are saying seems to make sense, even though it doesn’t fit our standards. But there is no middle ground. Eventually you have to choose.

“To stay strong, it helps to have a good friend so you can talk to each other and rely on each other. That way you can stay strong together. When I keep my standards, I feel safe. I’m worthy to ask God to protect me. I have faith that if I am obedient, He will help me.”

Six-year-old Abrahán Ruelas, from Mexicali, Mexico, was among the children who came to the service. When he saw the angel Moroni on the temple, he recognized it as the part he had helped sew on the rug. “I thought the temple was in heaven and that I was in heaven,” Abrahán says. When the General Authorities accepted the rug, “I was very happy and proud, and I started to cry.” The children were also delighted to see General Authorities standing on the rug during the service.

Years later, when I was trying to decide if I had a testimony, I was a little disappointed that I had never had a big or strong answer. Did this mean I didn’t have a testimony? Then I remembered how I felt when my brother told me stories from the Book of Mormon, and I knew that I did know the Church was true.

Paul Reid, Pacific Area manager of the Church’s Welfare and Self-Reliance Services, knew about SolarBuddy through a previous project.
“Randomly, one morning I woke up with the idea of having thousands of our Church youth and young adults light the world at Christmas with a gift for thousands of children around the Pacific who often do not have light to read or study after the sun goes down,” he said.

The field is so big they call it the Plain. The ranks of soldiers who will march across it seem so endless they call them the Long Gray Line. And even though heavy rain is forecast, more than 10,000 spectators are on hand. It is, after all, commencement time at West Point, New York, home of the U.S. Military Academy. For graduates, this is their final parade as cadets.
As the troops marshall themselves on the field, one small group stands in front, stiff at attention, the black plumes of their “tarbucket” hats ruffling in the breeze. These are the cadet commanders. And the tallest, and second in command, is Shaun Greene, deputy brigade commander—and returned missionary.
How Shaun got to this point, to be among the highest cadet officers as well as in the top 5 percent of his class academically, is a story of faith, inspiration, and perseverance, or as Shaun might say, of learning to put first things first.
When he was 14, Shaun, a native of Roseville, California (near Sacramento), received his patriarchal blessing. “At age 14, I was not known as a particularly religious guy,” Shaun says. “But the stake patriarch was moving, and my parents thought he was a great guy, so I prepared for the blessing and got it.”
One phrase in the blessing startled Shaun. It mentioned serving in the military, and told him that if he was obedient he would be protected in time of war. “There were other things that were quite specific, as far as having a family for example, but the sentence about the military really affected me,” Shaun explains. “I’d always been interested in the military, but I hadn’t told the patriarch about that and I’m sure he didn’t know.”
The words of the blessing stayed with him. As he reached college age, he planned to attend the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, Colorado. But a misunderstanding about an eye examination disqualified him, so he accepted an academic scholarship at Brigham Young University instead.
“I was thinking that if I was going into the military, then I’d get into pre-med and become a doctor,” Shaun says. But his pre-med studies left him dissatisfied. “I quickly found that wasn’t what I wanted to do.”
At the same time, Shaun felt a growing testimony that the gospel was true. He heard the prophet say all worthy young men should serve a mission. It sounded like a case of putting first things first.
“A mission wasn’t something I had really planned on until then. My parents would talk about me going on a mission and I’d just smile. But when I started looking into the Church for myself, I became converted.”
He was called to serve in the Taiwan Taipei Mission. “BYU did some terrific things for me,” Shaun says. “But I think the mission did even more. I saw the gospel in action. I learned to try to love as the Savior loves.”
At the end of his mission, Shaun again felt prompted to act on the words of his patriarchal blessing. Getting into the military now seemed to be putting first things first, so he wrote to West Point. He also wrote to his senator and congressman, since cadets can only enter the military academy by senatorial, congressional, or presidential appointment. And even though he had attended college and served a mission, he met the age limitation (you can’t be older than 22) by ten days.
Shaun’s record at West Point has been outstanding. He is one of only a few cadets ever to make it through four years without a single demerit. He served as regimental commander for cadet basic training. He’s been on a cultural exchange program in China and Hong Kong. He’s had dinner with senators and generals, been interviewed by the national media, and he’s on line for a scholarship that will allow him to study in the Orient, then pursue a graduate degree at Harvard University.
Talk to Academy administrators and you’ll hear things like: “He’ll make a great addition to the army.” “He’s somebody who can get things done.” “He’s already a seasoned officer. He’s just masquerading as a cadet.”
And the story could end right there, except there’s another person involved, another Latter-day Saint who, thanks to the promptings of the Spirit, put first things first and found her way into Shaun’s life.

He was called by President Joseph Smith to edit and publish Nauvoo’s newspaper Times and Seasons and later the Nauvoo Neighbor. He went right to work.
Joseph Smith: Brother Taylor, I have a special assignment for you—to be editor of the Times and Seasons.

As a young Primary girl, I worked diligently to cross-stitch a simple saying which read, “I will bring the light of the gospel into my home.” One weekday afternoon as we girls pulled our needles up and down through the fabric, our teacher told us the story of a girl who lived on a hill on one side of a valley. Each late afternoon she noticed on the hill on the opposite side of the valley a house that had shining, golden windows. Her own home was small and somewhat shabby, and the girl dreamed of living in that beautiful house with windows of gold.

One day the girl was given permission to ride her bike across the valley. She eagerly rode until she reached the house with the golden windows that she had admired for so long. But when she dismounted from her bike, she saw that the house was abandoned and dilapidated, with tall weeds in the yard and windows that were plain and dirty. Sadly, the girl turned her face toward home. To her surprise, she saw a house with shining, golden windows on the hill across the valley and soon realized it was her very own home!8

I hear a lot of swearing on the school bus. To counter it, I like to read the scriptures. In doing so, I don’t have to listen to the swearing and I can concentrate on the Savior.

Jaron G., 16, Washington, USA

Twenty-one years later in the spring of 1876 Dr. Maeser, who had immigrated to the United States, was teaching school in the 20th Ward schoolhouse in Salt Lake City when a blast destroyed the building. Reporting the explosion to President Brigham Young, Karl said the school would have to be closed.
“That is exactly right, Brother Maeser,” President Young replied, “for I have another mission for you.” And that is how Karl G. Maeser was told of his call to establish the Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah.