Gospel Story Finder

With no family or friends, Todd, 23, is one of the loneliest people at the Desert Development Center for mentally and physically handicapped people. A product of drug-using parents, he has never had a single friend, a single visitor. On this day Sean White, a teenager in the Las Vegas Stake, took his hand and did not let go of it all day. He was patient and kind to Todd, and stayed by his side, talking to him and offering his friendship. A simple thing. But after Sean left, Todd quietly told a staff member, “This is the best day I have ever had.”
Sean was one of 300 teenagers from the Las Vegas Stake who participated in a service-oriented youth conference. They conducted a field day patterned after the Special Olympics for some 80 handicapped people at the center where Todd lives. And because they did, at least one young man had the best day of his life.

Hernando stacked the newspapers neatly at the corner where he worked each day. He glanced to where a bus was pulling up to the curb. As a stream of early commuters streamed sleepily from the door, he rushed forward with a number of papers under his arm. “Paper! First edition!” he cried out, waving one in the air.
A gray-haired man reached into his pocket for change, handed it to Hernando, and took a paper. “Thank you!” Hernando said, then turned to yell again, “Paper! First edition!” until the sidewalk was empty. He sat on the remaining papers and pulled his collar up against the morning’s dark chill.
“Hernie,” his buddy Tyler shouted excitedly from his shoeshine stand down the street, “Margaret’s giving money away again! She must have gotten her welfare check yesterday or something! Come on! She’s right around the corner at the bus depot.”
Hernando frowned. “Someone should stop her, but I can’t leave my papers!”
“I left my stand! Come on!” Tyler hissed. “We have to get in on this!”
Hernando glanced along the deserted sidewalk, then followed Tyler to the corner. When they got there, a police officer was gently leading Margaret to a patrol car.
“Too late!” Tyler groaned. “They’re taking her home again.”
Hernando smiled. “That’s good.”
“What’s good about it?” Tyler barked. “I got a dollar last time. What’s the matter with you—don’t you like money?”
Hernando grinned. “Sure! But not enough to take it from a confused old lady! You shouldn’t accept money from her, either.”
“You’re the one who’s confused! Your mom cleans offices, your sister works in a bakery, and you sell newspapers! Are you too good to take money from heaven?”
Hernando grinned. “If it were from heaven, I’d take it.” Hearing the screech of air brakes, Hernando knew that another bus was arriving, so he hurried back to his stand. Grabbing another stack of papers, he called, “Paper! First edition!”

Thirteen years ago it was my privilege to provide a blessing to a beautiful 12-year-old young lady, Jami Palmer. She had just been diagnosed with cancer and was frightened and bewildered. She subsequently underwent surgery and painful chemotherapy. Today she is cancer-free and is a bright, beautiful 26-year-old who has accomplished much in her life. Some time ago, I learned that in her darkest hour, when any future appeared somewhat grim, she learned that her leg where the cancer was situated would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up a rugged trail to Timpanogos Cave—located in the Wasatch Mountains about 40 miles south of Salt Lake City, Utah—was out of the question, she thought. Jami told her friends they would have to undertake the hike without her. I’m confident there was a catch in her voice and disappointment in her heart. But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”
“But I can’t walk,” came the anguished reply.
“Then, Jami, we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.
Today, the hike is a memory, but in reality it is much more. James Barrie, the Scottish poet, declared, “God gave us memories, that we might have June roses in the December of our lives” (paraphrasing James Barrie, in Laurence J. Peter, comp., Peter’s Quotations: Ideas for Our Time [1977], 335). None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.

Hey, Jake. What’s going on?
A guy in math class gave me a book. He said it has answers in it, but there isn’t anything about math in it at all!
Hmm. The answers in this book are for a much bigger test than the one you’re studying for.

In 1834 Garibaldi took part in an unsuccessful revolution. To avoid going to prison, he disguised himself as a peasant and escaped to France.

My bishop has counseled me to use the stories found in the New Era in teaching the youth. That is such great advice. The New Era has outstanding articles for lessons. This month I’m using David Campbell’s feature on trust, “To Be Trusted,” in the July 1986 issue, and Alma Yates’s story on service, “Buying the Feeling,” in the June 1986 issue. Thanks, New Era. You make my life better.
John WilsonSimi Valley, California

A few years ago, I went to one of those competitions in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA. I was excited to compete against weightlifters from all over the country, but I was a little worried about being so far away from my family. To make it easier, my mom promised to text me scriptures and thoughtful messages every day.
The night before the competition, some kids threw a party. I thought it would be cool to go, so my roommate and I went to check it out. But right away I knew it wasn’t my kind of party. There were teenagers drinking, smoking, saying bad words, and dancing inappropriately. I knew I shouldn’t be there, but I was worried what my roommate might think. Or what the other competitors might think.
But then something popped into my head:
“Stand ye in holy places.”
It was from my favorite scripture, and one my mom had sent me that morning: Doctrine and Covenants 87:8: “Wherefore, stand ye in holy places, and be not moved, until the day of the Lord come; for behold, it cometh quickly, saith the Lord. Amen.”
I don’t know why my mom sent me that scripture that day, but it’s one I’ve loved my entire life. I’ve had it memorized since I was eight, and again and again it has reminded me to have courage, be obedient, and stand for what I believe in.
“Stand ye in holy places.”
“I’m gonna go,” I said to my roommate. I explained about the scripture my mom had sent me that morning. “This is not a place I should be standing.”
My roommate told me she didn’t want to be there, either. She was uncomfortable too but hadn’t wanted to leave by herself and be seen as a loser. She thanked me for saying something, and we left.
The next morning, we found out that soon after we left, the kids who were at the party were caught and eliminated from the competition for drinking and doing drugs.
If I hadn’t been prompted to remember my mom’s verse, I might’ve been disqualified from the competition too. I ended up winning first place, so I’m really grateful I got to compete. (I think I thank my mom every single day for texting me.)

Becki Jackson’s dream had come true. She had been chosen for one of the starring roles in her high school’s musical production—something she had hoped for since she was a little girl.
With the stress of auditions behind her, Becki looked forward to learning her part. She took the musical score home. But as she looked through the manuscript, she was uncomfortable with many of the songs that seemed to have suggestive lyrics and double meanings. And her role was the worst!
This was her senior year—the first year the high school had put on a musical production in a long time. Her one-time opportunity to perform could be spoiled.
Becki and her family, who live in Fisherville, Ontario, Canada, and attend the Simcoe Branch, had been members of the Church for two years. Becki’s standards had always been high, but she was more determined than ever to uphold them now that she was a member of the Church and the only Latter-day Saint in her school.
When she went to her first rehearsal for the play, “I told my teacher-director that I wouldn’t sing those songs,” she says. “He tried to convince me that the lyrics were only supposed to be funny. They didn’t want to lose me as a lead, he said, but if I felt that strongly they would give me different songs to sing.” And different songs she did get!
At the next rehearsal, Becki was assigned to the chorus. No explanation was given. Another girl was assigned Becki’s lead role and was asked to sing the songs.
However, Becki’s classmates were so supportive of her stand that the teachers finally modified the songs by completely removing the verses that Becki had refused to sing.
Becki’s father, Kel Jackson, says, “I knew the strength of Becki’s testimony when I asked her if she was going to continue in the musical or drop out. She answered, ‘I have waited a long time for this, and I have worked hard. They may have taken away my part, but they did remove the bad words, and I am going to be in this production.’ Through weeks of rehearsal, she never again mentioned the situation or complained in any way.”
When asked if she was bitter toward her teachers for their actions, Becki answers, “I didn’t like their attitude about the songs, but they were nice people, and they were working hard to make this a production the school could be proud of.”
On opening night, Becki showed great delight in participating in her limited role, which included a one-line solo. “Many people questioned why she had not played a larger part,” comments her father. “It was then that I fully understood that she had played a larger part than any role in the play. She had set aside personal desires to act in a manner pleasing to her Father in Heaven. Becki’s example is a reminder that sacrifice for gospel principles will always lead to a starring role.”

As a young missionary, Elder Orson F. Whitney (1855–1931), who later served in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had a dream so powerful that it changed his life forever. He later wrote:
“One night I dreamed … that I was in the Garden of Gethsemane, a witness of the Savior’s agony. … I stood behind a tree in the foreground. … Jesus, with Peter, James, and John, came through a little wicket gate at my right. Leaving the three Apostles there, after telling them to kneel and pray, He passed over to the other side, where He also knelt and prayed … : ‘Oh my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless not as I will but as Thou wilt.’
“As He prayed the tears streamed down His face, which was [turned] toward me. I was so moved at the sight that I wept also, out of pure sympathy with His great sorrow. My whole heart went out to Him. I loved Him with all my soul and longed to be with Him as I longed for nothing else.
“Presently He arose and walked to where those Apostles were kneeling—fast asleep! He shook them gently, awoke them, and in a tone of tender reproach, untinctured by the least show of anger or scolding, asked them if they could not watch with Him one hour. …
“Returning to His place, He prayed again and then went back and found them again sleeping. Again He awoke them, admonished them, and returned and prayed as before. Three times this happened, until I was perfectly familiar with His appearance—face, form, and movements. He was of noble stature and of majestic mien … the very God that He was and is, yet as meek and lowly as a little child.
“All at once the circumstance seemed to change. … Instead of before, it was after the Crucifixion, and the Savior, with those three Apostles, now stood together in a group at my left. They were about to depart and ascend into heaven. I could endure it no longer. I ran from behind the tree, fell at His feet, clasped Him around the knees, and begged Him to take me with Him.
“I shall never forget the kind and gentle manner in which He stooped and raised me up and embraced me. It was so vivid, so real that I felt the very warmth of His bosom against which I rested. Then He said: ‘No, my son; these have finished their work, and they may go with me; but you must stay and finish yours.’ Still I clung to Him. Gazing up into His face—for He was taller than I—I besought Him most earnestly: ‘Well, promise me that I will come to You at the last.’ He smiled sweetly and tenderly and replied: ‘That will depend entirely upon yourself.’ I awoke with a sob in my throat, and it was morning.”

“Minicraft 34 ready,” Maris said into the communication system in her space helmet as she prepared to be launched.
Just before her minicraft slid into the launching chute, Maris looked out of a small porthole. Around the edge of the launching pad she could see the huge banners rippling in the wind—GALACTIC JUNIOR DIVISION SPACE RACE. And beyond some high barriers a crowd of people watched. Maris knew her family was there among them.
Through the communications system she could hear the loudspeaker announcing her turn. “Contestant number 34, Maris Parker, representing Earth,” it blared.
She waved to her family. “Next time you see me,” she whispered even though they couldn’t hear her, “I’ll be someone you can really be proud of.”
If everything goes right and I win the race, I’ll soon be wearing the Space Princess crown! Maris thought to herself happily.
Her little spaceship took the launch smoothly and was soon orbiting the asteroid that was hosting the race. Ahead of her she saw numbers 32 and 33. All the other minicrafts were already out of sight, but that was all right. The race was being judged on accuracy as well as on speed.
Suddenly she saw number 32 wobble as it completed its first maneuver at checkpoint 1. Piloting number 32 was Rel, the quiet, silver-eyed girl from the asteroid Pallas.
Maris wished she could talk to Rel and tell her to make a small adjustment in her controls. But Maris knew that if anyone communicated after launching she lost points. That was the rule.
Rel finished the first maneuver awkwardly and shot off toward checkpoint 2. Minicraft number 33 moved into the first maneuver. Narda, the girl from the fifth moon of Jupiter, was the pilot. Narda was good, and she was as determined as Maris to win the race. She would be hard to beat.
Narda finished the maneuver perfectly and went on. It was Maris’s turn. She felt the minicraft respond instantly to her touch, and she knew she passed the first test.
The second checkpoint was harder and the third worse. Maris knew that she performed them well, but ahead of her she saw that Narda did them just as well. She wondered how Rel, who was out of sight now, had done.
At the third checkpoint Maris lost a little time because she had to repeat a turn around a drifting space buoy. I’ll have to pick up a little speed somewhere or Narda will win, she decided.
Maris sighed. It seemed as though she had always come in second or third or fourth in everything she did. But I don’t have to come in second; I can still win, she thought with renewed determination. So Maris speeded up her minicraft. She was right behind Narda now. And Narda made a mistake! She was supposed to make a figure eight at checkpoint 6, but she did a simple oval and had to repeat the maneuver. Maris did it correctly and was now ahead.
Her hopes were high as she headed for checkpoint 7. Just three more checkpoints and she could return to base. If I can just keep doing everything perfectly, I’ll be wearing the Space Princess crown within an hour, she mused.
Narda was nowhere in sight behind her as Maris approached checkpoint 8, the most difficult part of the course. At this checkpoint the girls had to orbit a wandering asteroid that flip-flopped through space, making sure their ships didn’t get caught in the asteroid’s weak gravity field.
Maris was halfway through her maneuver when she saw another minicraft ahead of her. She was ready to pass the spacecraft when she realized it was in trouble. For some reason its speed was cut down to the danger point.
Losing precious seconds, Maris guided her own spacecraft close enough to see the number on the faltering minicraft. It was number 32, Rel, the girl from Pallas.
“Rel!” Maris shouted into the communication mouthpiece, “what’s the matter?” Maris knew she was losing points for breaking the communications rule, but what else could she do?
“Oh, Maris! Thank goodness you’re close by.” Rel’s voice was charged with relief. “I’m having a fuel injection problem and it’s slowed me down, so I can’t get away from the asteroid’s gravity pull. Maris, I’m so scared. I may be forced to land.”
Land! Crash was a more accurate word if Rel had to go down on that asteroid. Its surface was an ugly array of jagged peaks and narrow valleys.
“Rel,” Maris said as calmly as she could, “you must stay up. And you can if you make your calculations so that you meet the least possible resistance.”
“But I can’t.” Rel’s voice was shaking now. “I’m not a very good pilot. I can’t do all that figuring.”
“Yes you can.” Maris made her own voice sound firm. “You are an excellent pilot or you wouldn’t be representing your asteroid in this race. Now, look at your charts and instruments.”
There was silence for a moment, then Rel spoke again. “I’ve tried to radio for help, but we’re in a dead space behind the asteroid. I can’t get through to the base. Will you send a rescue ship for me as soon as you get there?”
Yes, Maris thought. I could do that. I could go on and win the race, and then send help back. The Space Princess crown was still within her reach. She wanted so badly to continue, but she couldn’t. Not yet anyway.
“I’ll stay here with you for a while,” she told Rel. “I’ll contact someone else to send the rescue ship.”
Just then Narda’s minicraft came into view. “Narda,” Maris called over her radio, “you don’t have to answer and lose points. But please radio for the rescue ship as soon as you can make contact with the base.” Quickly she explained the problem.
Narda gave no sign that she heard. She just went on toward the next checkpoint.
For the first time Maris felt panic, for herself as well as for Rel. What if Narda doesn’t say anything and something happens so that Rel and I both crash on the asteroid? she worried. We might never be found!
Rel’s minicraft was slowly losing power and was drifting badly. Maris had no time to think about herself. She had all she could do to keep Rel calm and help her do the necessary figuring to keep from crashing. She tried not to let her fear show as she gave Rel instructions. Rel was calmer now and followed directions instantly. She was even thinking for herself.
The two spacecrafts were very close to the asteroid. Maris was studying it, trying to find a smooth place big enough to land if necessary, when she saw another minicraft approaching.
Number 33! Narda had come back.
“Narda,” Maris exclaimed. “I thought you would be wearing the Space Princess crown by now.”
Narda rolled her ship in greeting. “I thought about it. But crowns give me headaches. Besides, you’re so far off course now that if I didn’t hang around up here where the radio waves can get through, the rescue ship would never find you.”
Before Maris could say another word, Narda sent her minicraft out into space where it hung like a beacon, guiding the rescue ship to the stricken Rel.
Hours later, after the rescue ship had arrived and gathered Rel’s minicraft into its magnetic embrace, they all landed safely at the base. The competition was over—Melona from the planet Mercury had been crowned Space Princess.
Maris, Narda, and Rel hugged each other on the landing pad while their families cheered. But Rel’s silver eyes were troubled. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I made both of you lose your chances for the crown.”
Narda shrugged and said, “Don’t worry. There’ll be other races.”
Maris squeezed Rel’s hand. “I thought the crown mattered most, but it doesn’t seem so important now,” she said warmly.

The second in the sequence of miraculous experiences that led to the formal organization of the Savior’s restored Church was the translation and coming forth of the Book of Mormon.
“Joseph Smith was given the gift and power of God to translate an ancient record: the Book of Mormon—Another Testament of Jesus Christ. … This sacred text include[s] an account of the personal ministry of Jesus Christ among people in the Western Hemisphere soon after His Resurrection. [The Book of Mormon] teaches of life’s purpose and explains the doctrine of Christ, which is central to that purpose. As a companion scripture to the Bible, the Book of Mormon testifies that all human beings are sons and daughters of a loving Father in Heaven, that He has a divine plan for our lives, and that His Son, Jesus Christ, speaks today as well as in days of old.”
As members of the Savior’s restored Church, “We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God.” The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ, confirms the truthfulness of the Bible, and restores plain and precious truths that were lost from the Bible.

A young man in New Zealand gives a priesthood blessing to his mother.

Years ago our 17-year-old son wanted to go on a weekend trip with his friends, who were all good boys. He asked for permission to go. I wanted to say yes, but for some reason I felt uncomfortable about the trip. I shared my feelings with my wife, who was very supportive. “We need to listen to that warning voice,” she said.

Of course, our son was disappointed and asked why we didn’t want him to go. I answered honestly that I didn’t know why. “I just don’t feel good about it,” I explained, “and I love you too much to ignore these feelings inside.” I was quite surprised when he said, “That’s OK, Dad. I understand.”

My new friend Jonah told me about how he often felt worried at school. But when he started to pray before school, he felt peace. Jonah prays to grow every day, and you can too!

One of Martin Harris’s greatest contributions to the Church, for which he should be honored for all time, was his financing the publication of the Book of Mormon. In August 1829 he mortgaged his home and farm to Egbert B. Grandin to secure payment on the printer’s contract. Seven months later the 5,000 copies of the first printing of the Book of Mormon were completed. Later, when the mortgage note fell due, the home and a portion of the farm were sold for $3,000. In this way Martin Harris was obedient to the Lord’s revelation:
“Thou shalt not covet thine own property, but impart it freely to the printing of the Book of Mormon. …
“Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage” (D&C 19:26, 35).

Another reported that her neighbor’s house had torn loose from the foundation and was now resting against her home. “I asked her to visit me, but she didn’t need to bring her house with her.”

Scheveningen, Holland, is a little fishing village where many of my ancestors lived. All of them were in the fishing industry as either boat makers or net makers or fishermen. My father was the first one to break away from fishing and go to work in the big city. He served six years with the mounted cavalry in the Dutch army and then worked for forty years with the international patents and trademarks office in The Hague.
He was always learning, and he instilled the same desire to learn in his four sons and one daughter. He repeatedly told us children, “I have seen enough from my ancestors. They never learned anything other than fishing. I wanted to break the chain. I want you to learn as much as you can about other things.”
He was a strict, but loving and understanding father. My mother was outgoing, generous, and hospitable and was loved by everyone in our neighborhood. Everyone was welcome in our home at any hour of the day.

Coming back to our family, we had four daughters before we got a boy and he grew into beautiful young manhood; we lost him in an accident down at the beach in California while I was the president of the stake there. He was just turning 16 and he stood as tall as his father, and to think now of his own brothers who are here: they have their families, and one of them has just been serving as one of the Regional Representatives of the Twelve. I can’t believe that boy will come out any less exalted in the eternities that are to come than his brothers who have lived here in mortality. When he died, the principal of the high school came to our home (and he was not a member of the Church) and told Sister Richards that our son was the best boy he had ever had in his school, and we felt that, too, as he grew into manhood.

Prior to travel restrictions caused by the current pandemic, I was returning home from an international assignment which, due to scheduling issues, created a Sunday layover. I had time between flights to attend a local sacrament meeting, where I was also able to share a brief message. Following the meeting, an enthusiastic deacon approached me and asked if I knew President Nelson and if I had ever had a chance to shake his hand. I answered that I did know him, that I had shaken his hand, and that, as a member of the Presiding Bishopric, I had the opportunity to meet with President Nelson and his counselors a couple of times each week.
The young deacon then sat down on a chair, threw his hands in the air, and shouted, “This is the greatest day of my life!” Brothers and sisters, I may not throw my hands in the air and shout, but I am eternally grateful for a living prophet and for the direction we receive from prophets, seers, and revelators, especially during these times of challenge.

????? by needforfreed At first I thought the options were too limiting, but then I realized that they actually allowed me greater freedom as I continued to use it and was able to customize my experience with the Have Faith and Do Good Works features.