Gospel Story Finder

Mia Maids in the Layton 31st Ward, Layton Utah South Stake, made white hair “scrunchies” to be worn by young women in the new Hong Kong Temple. They crocheted and sewed the fancy ponytail holders and sent them in time for the temple dedication.

I saw that those stake presidents were lifted up to their callings. I have seen the same miracle in the service of President Monson as he received the call to preside as the prophet and President of the Church and to exercise all the keys of the priesthood in the earth. Revelation and inspiration have come to him in my presence, which confirms to me that God is honoring those keys. I am an eyewitness.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is two centimeters the first time, three centimeters the second time, and four centimeters the third time. After several trials he settles on three centimeters as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three centimeters, then two centimeters, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one centimeter.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three centimeters,” and Susan counters with “one centimeter.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two centimeters each time.
The interesting conclusion to this experiment may appear, at first, to be trivial, but in many regards it is profound. The light never moves. It is only our perceptions of the light that change. As we associate with others whose opinions differ from our own, their judgments often influence how we view things, and we, in turn, influence their view of the world.

The first district in Togo was organized in Lomé in 2009. Just four years later, it became a stake. “Where rapid growth sometimes comes at the cost of maturity and depth, that is not the case in Lomé,” Elder Terence M. Vinson of the Africa West Area Presidency observed at the time. Saints in Togo heeded the scriptural call for Zion to “strengthen [its] stakes and enlarge [its] borders” (Moroni 10:31), and as a result, a second stake was organized in 2017.

I served as a mission president in Australia, and when we came home for general conference, we met Addison, a three-month-old grandson, for the first time. He died of crib death shortly afterward, and six weeks later my father passed away. It’s in times like these when your testimony really makes a difference. Having wept at the passing of loved ones, and rejoiced in the births of grandchildren, I have come to realize that from the eternal perspective, birth and death are equally worthwhile events in our eternal progression.

“This sure is a grumpy neighborhood,” said Jennie as she came in the front door.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Mother.
“Well, every time I ride past Mrs. Langston’s house on my bike, she calls out, ‘Better oil your wheels—that squeak is awfully noisy!’ And Mr. Pratt says, ‘Watch out for my grass as you turn the corner!’
“I say hello to the neighbors and most of them look at me with surprise, like they don’t know I have a voice. Mother, do we have to stay here?” Jennie asked. “If we moved somewhere else, maybe things would be different.”
“You’re really upset aren’t you, Jennie? Why not take the opportunity to be a missionary in our neighborhood?” Mother suggested, putting an arm around her unhappy daughter.
Jennie sounded a little doubtful as she answered, “How could I do that?”
“You think about it, Jennie, and I will too,” Mother said on her way to the kitchen to fix supper. “I’m sure the two of us can come up with some ideas to make our neighborhood a friendlier place.”
Jennie was about to plop down on the couch when a loud knock sounded at the front door. But when she opened it nobody was there. However, someone had left a brown paper bag tied with a colorful ribbon on the doorstep. As Jennie picked up the bag, she could feel something warm inside. And the smell that came from the bag was heavenly. Inside was a small loaf of bread and a card that read, “To Jennie from your secret friend.”
Jennie carried the little loaf into the kitchen.
“What a wonderful smell!” Mother exclaimed.
“Yes, it’s a gift from my secret friend,” answered Jennie. “In our Merrie Miss class we decided to do something to make us feel closer to each other. We put all of our names in a box and then each of us drew one out. We’re supposed to do nice things for our secret friends without letting anyone know about it.”
“I hope your secret pal comes often,” said her brother Frank. “How about a piece of bread with butter and honey on it right now?”
Mother had a slice, too, and as the three of them sat around the kitchen table enjoying the freshly baked bread, Frank asked, “Hey Jennie, why don’t you learn to make bread like this?”
“I already know how, Frank. Our Primary class made small loaves as favors for our A Miss and Her Mom Party,” replied Jennie.
“Good!” said Frank. “Then you can bake some for us, and why not some for all of our grumpy neighbors.”
“That’s it!” said Jennie excitedly. “I could be a secret friend to each family in the neighborhood and I can begin by baking each one a small loaf of bread. Would that be all right, Mom?”
Mother was excited too. “Instead of signing the note ‘secret friend’” she suggested, “we could sign it, ‘a good neighbor.’ And then we could do other things later on.”
“That’s neat,” Frank said with an appreciative grin. “Nobody will know who to thank, so they’ll just be nice to everybody.”
“Could you use your saber saw to cut some small breadboards out of that scrap lumber in the garage?” Jennie asked.
“Sure,” said Frank. And they all laughed together when he added, “Cast your bread upon the waters. Who knows—someday it may come back a sandwich.”

After his brother had fallen asleep and their candle had burned out, Gaelin lay awake. The room was black, except where the moon shone through the window. He was trying to remember something so that he could forget how dark it was and how the shadows looked like wicked giants on the wall.
Only that morning, Gaelin had held the big stallion’s reins as he watched his father, Sir Gareth, swing into the saddle. Equipped with shield and sword, Sir Gareth had smiled at Gaelin through kindly eyes and said, “Now, my little knight, take good care of your brothers and sisters while I’m gone. And remember, Son, that true courage is fear that has said its prayers.” Then he had turned his charger and joined others of King Arthur’s knights as they assembled for a journey.
The next morning Gaelin arose early, dressed quickly, and ran down the stairs. He didn’t think about Sir Gareth’s words again until it was dark. Shivering more because of the eerie shadows than the cold, he went to his room.
That evening about eleven o’clock, a storm blew in from the ocean. The thunder and lightning were the worst part. Loud thunderclaps shook the stone walls of the castle. Gaelin and his little brother shivered under their wolfskins until they fell asleep.
It was past midnight when Gaelin’s mother came into the room and found the boys asleep. She whispered Gaelin’s name, and he awoke with a start. “What’s wrong, Mother?” he asked.
“Your littlest sister is very sick,” she replied. “Get up and dress quickly! The stableboy is saddling your pony. You must ride to the village and fetch old Grimbauld. She can save Leonora if anyone can!”
“The village?” Gaelin stared at his mother in horror. “But it’s five miles away … and it’s thundering and raining so hard!” He bit his lip, terrified of riding in the storm. Then he looked at his mother’s anxious face and whispered, “I’ll go.”
In a few minutes he was on his way, with the wind tugging at his cloak and teasing his pony’s tail. Brennet, his pony, lowered his head and drove himself into the rain while Gaelin held up the lantern his mother had given him. The boy squinted into the wind and bumped the pony’s sides with his heels.
Gaelin was soaking wet and cold even before he reached the forest. Five miles of forest, he worried. It’s dark and howling with wind and full of bears and dragons! Can I make it? His tiny lantern threatened to go out at any moment, and then he would certainly become lost!
The trail through the forest was well worn, and Gaelin urged Brennet into a gallop. The best way is to do it quickly, he decided. Then there won’t be time to be frightened. But the lantern swung wildly, and its moving shadows looked like dark giants bounding from behind old twisted trees to carry him away!
Brennet was strong-winded and had been ridden often, so Gaelin kept him running until he steamed beneath the saddlecloth and his breath came hard. Surely I’m almost to the village, Gaelin thought.
They stopped only once, when there was an explosion and a blinding flash ahead. The pony reared up on his hind legs, snorting. Gaelin didn’t fall, but he felt his heart pounding in his throat. Even so, he encouraged Brennet on.
As they rounded a bend, Gaelin saw the tree. Blackened and still smoking from the lightning, it had fallen across the path. He swallowed hard, gripped the pony’s sides tightly with his knees, and urged him to jump. But Brennet was too tired. He couldn’t spring high enough from the muddy earth, and his front hooves didn’t clear the branches. The pony tumbled headlong on the other side, pitching Gaelin from his saddle so that he struck the ground with the arm that held the lantern.
When Gaelin sat up, he was surrounded by blackness. The lantern was smashed! He couldn’t see the trees, his pony, or even the puddle he’d landed in. Fighting back tears because it was unknightly to cry, he suddenly remembered Sir Gareth’s words: Remember that courage is fear that has said its prayers.
With the storm crashing overhead, Gaelin knelt and prayed: “Please, dear God, don’t let me be frightened anymore! My little sister is very sick, and I must get help. Help me to find the way and not be scared! In the name of Christ our Lord, amen.”
Brennet was snuffling at the boy’s shoulder. Gaelin found the reins, swung up onto the pony, and started off once more. The moon was beginning to show its round face between the clouds, and the storm was moving up the countryside.
In front of old Grimbauld’s cottage, Gaelin tumbled off his exhausted mount and pounded on the heavy door with a hand that no longer shook. The kind peasant woman, wrapped in a thick shawl, brought him in to sit beside her little fire. With a dry sheepskin around him, he delivered his message.
Gaelin was warm by the time she’d gathered her herbs and other things and bridled her mule. She paused in the doorway and looked at him kindly. “You came all that way through the storm, boy? Weren’t you frightened? You must have the courage of a knight!”
Gaelin only smiled as he went out to take care of faithful Brennet. He wasn’t frightened anymore, and he knew that little Leonora would soon be well.

by Kent Howcroft
Like most priests quorums, the priests of the American Fork 25th Ward, American Fork Utah North Stake, like to have fun on a super activity each summer. This year we decided to expand the activity to include a service project as well. And it turned out that the service project was the highlight of the trip!
We covered a need for help in constructing a prefabricated building in Many Farms, Arizona, a town of 5,000 in the Four Corners area where the borders of Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado meet. Many Farms is on the Navajo Indian Reservation.
The first night of our activity, a recently returned missionary shared some of his experiences with us in a fireside. He had seen the Spirit touch the lives of people in Argentina, and his testimony touched us. One of our priests said he felt more than ever that he wanted to prepare for a mission.
The next morning we had a rafting competition in a nearby reservoir and went swimming to cool off. Then it was off to Many Farms, where we met the full-time missionaries working in the area. Our priests got to see firsthand what life in the mission field is like. They had an opportunity to work with the missionaries and to hear the conversion story of Elder Powell, a missionary from New York.
Then we started work on the building. As leaders, we had been concerned that the desert heat might make conditions unbearable. But we were blessed with rain and cool, cloudy weather, and we were able to finish the project on time. The work went quickly, and we all enjoyed doing something to help someone else. It was a super activity we will never forget.

When 21-year-old Gisela Silva moved with her family from Mendoza, Argentina, to the nation’s southernmost city of Ushuaia, she wondered whether she’d left behind her chances of marrying in the temple. Mendoza, after all, has a stake filled with wards of Latter-day Saints, while isolated Ushuaia—located on the island of Tierra del Fuego—has only about 600 members attending three small branches.
“My parents had married in the temple, and I wanted this blessing for myself—to marry a faithful member of the Church, someone with whom I could form an eternal family,” she recalls. “But when I arrived in Ushuaia, there were so few young adults here that I wondered whether that would happen.”
Lucas Romano had the same concerns as Gisela. During his mission to Uruguay, his family had moved to Ushuaia. When he joined them after completing his mission, he quickly noticed that young single adult men outnumbered young single adult women. He was determined, nevertheless, to obey the counsel of local leaders to date only members of the Church.
That counsel became easier to follow after Lucas met Gisela at church and she enrolled in English classes at a school where he teaches. He began walking her home after class, and they soon began dating. As they prayed individually about their growing relationship, they say that confirmation came “line upon line, precept upon precept” (2 Nephi 28:30; D&C 98:12).
In April 2005, Lucas and Gisela married civilly, as required by Argentine law, and then were sealed in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple. Their sealing was significant for the young Church membership in Ushuaia: it was the first of 17 temple marriages in less than four years.

Last evening our copy of the December 1974 New Era came. The Message “Salvation Is My Goal” by Elder Hugh B. Brown was so in keeping with our last Sunday’s Gospel Doctrine class, I could hardly believe the article wasn’t written for me as a teacher. We had left our discussion Sunday with some questions about why we have to endure so much here. Needless to say, Elder Brown answered them. I was inspired by the words, “If we banish hardship, we banish hardihood; out of the same door with calamity walk courage, fortitude, triumphant faith, and sacrificial love. If we abolish the cross in the world, we make impossible the Christ in man.” I have called nearly every member of the class. They must each read either their copy or mine!
Would it be possible to let Elder Brown somehow know that his great love, testimony, and knowledge have helped each of us here? He and his dear wife have been the source of inspiration to so many of us.
Yvonne P. RemppYerrington, Nevada

The handsome American youth had only been in Czechoslovakia for a few weeks. With absolutely no language training he had come to preach the gospel to the Czech people in their own tongue. Now the time had arrived to preach his first sermon to a group of Saints and interested investigators. His experienced companion had labored diligently to help him write his speech and had also provided a phonetic guide to aid in the pronunciation of this very difficult language. Now he must face the congregation alone.

When the young man began to speak the senior companion suffered in silence as his youthful counterpart proceeded to violate every grammatical rule in the entire Czech language. However, all was not lost, because his pronunciation was so atrocious that few in the audience could tell what he was saying anyway.

After the meeting, the young elder felt somewhat embarrassed and disappointed until a matronly investigator approached him. With tear-stained cheeks and trembling voice she told him (through an interpreter), "I felt that everything you said was true—I’d like to be baptized." The promise in the Book of Mormon is that "when a man speaketh by the power of the Holy Ghost the power of the Holy Ghost carrieth it unto the hearts of the children of men" (2 Ne. 33:1).

“Why not just a little?” That was the question David asked after his early-morning seminary teacher finished an entire lesson about protecting yourself from sin by keeping your covenants.
“I’m not talking about doing anything big,” David continued. “I just want to know why I can’t have a sip of beer—just to taste it and know what it is like. Why not just one cigarette or one night with a girl so my friends will stop bugging me?”
Before the teacher could even start giving the usual answers, David outguessed him and blurted, “And don’t tell me that alcohol kills your brain cells and that cigarettes cause cancer. Don’t tell me about AIDS.” He didn’t want to hear the “scare” stories. David continued, “I know men who used to drink and smoke, and they’re bishops now.”
It was true. David knew many people who had repented and been forgiven of their sins. “So,” he looked directly at his teacher and repeated his original question, “why not just a little?”
By now nearly every young person in the room was nodding and saying, “Yeah, why not?” The seminary teacher knew he had to say something—quickly. He swallowed hard, said a silent prayer, and offered, “None of us is perfect. We all sin and have need to repent—we know that. But try looking at it like this: Isn’t the Holy Ghost a member of the Godhead?”
“Yes,” David answered, “but what does that have to do with anything?”
The teacher explained, “In the scriptures we are told the Spirit won’t always strive with us” (see Gen. 6:3; Ether 15:19; D&C 1:33).
The room was quiet. Despite already sitting through one lesson that day, David and his friends were listening to their teacher: “The immediate consequence of sin is withdrawal of the Spirit. So one cigarette may not be enough to give you cancer, but it is enough to alienate you from the Spirit. One can of beer may not make you an alcoholic and leave you homeless, but it is enough to leave you without the Spirit. The same would be true for a premarital sexual experience.”
Most of the class was agreeing with their teacher now, but David still wasn’t completely convinced. He said, “So the Spirit leaves. So what?”
Class was over. The students needed to go to school. “Let’s pick this discussion up tomorrow,” the teacher said, and they did. Over the next few days the class studied the fruits of the Spirit. What David had not considered was that when we lose the Spirit we automatically lose some other things as well.
The seminary class was glad David had asked, “Why not just a little?” In the course of their discussions, David and his friends came to some important conclusions. One student summed it up: “Why not just a little sin? Well, why not just a little touch on the burner of a hot stove? Sure, you may heal in the long run, but not without going through a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering.”

Children of the Papeete Tahiti Stake love pioneers! They gathered with their parents for a stake Pioneer Day activity honoring the pioneers who journeyed to the Salt Lake Valley in 1847.
Each ward built a pioneer wagon—some made with bicycle wheels and one with cardboard horses. The children marched in a parade, played pioneer games, and enjoyed delicious food.
Pioneer Day is also a special day to remember people in every country who accept the gospel and help teach it to others. All of these people are pioneers too!

Eighteen years ago, during my first visit to general conference as a new stake president, I learned a valuable lesson in punctuality. I wanted to visit all the Church departments, which at that time were spread over a wide area of Salt Lake City. Above all I had an earnest desire to meet President David O. McKay. I inquired whether it would be possible to see the prophet for just a few minutes and was delighted when I was told to return at 1:30 P.M. for this great privilege. My heart sang as I made other visits during the morning, and the time passed very quickly.
Suddenly I looked at my watch and was horrified to see that it was almost the appointed time. I literally ran to the Church Administration Building, arriving red-faced and breathless. Imagine my feelings when I was told, “By being one minute late you may have missed a golden opportunity.” Those words still ring in my ears, even though I was subsequently able to meet President McKay.

How can we make sure that our circles include, rather than exclude? It starts with a very simple realization: kindness is one of the main characteristics we are here on earth to learn. I know a family of extremely talented children. Academics, music—you name it; they do it well. Once when I was complimenting them, their mother said something I’ve never forgotten: “I’ve always taught my kids that it’s fine to be smart, but it’s better to be nice.”
Thinking about it, I realized she was right. I admire her children’s talents. But the real reason I value these children is that I can’t imagine any of them putting down someone else to gain social advantage. They are as kind as anyone I know.

I’m very happy with my name, Janetta Ann McBride. Brigham Young gave me that name and blessed me when I was a baby. He was one of the elders who visited at my parents’ home in Church Town, England, where I was born on Christmas Eve in 1839. It isn’t everyone who can claim that a prophet gave them a name and a blessing.

Talk with your family to solve the problem in a way that everyone benefits, or share a scripture or sing a hymn. You can also ask Heavenly Father for help to solve the problem. In this way, everyone will calm down and be able to solve the problem without shouting or violence. Surely the Holy Spirit will fill you all with peace and give everyone the desire not to fight again.
Luis F., 14, Playa del Carmen, Mexico

Such a gardener was Bruce Drennan, a young missionary whose love for the Lord and the gospel was no secret. He planted the seeds of testimony among friends, family, and the people of the small Aymara Indian village of Suriquina, Bolivia, where he and his companion Kevin Bons died after being overcome by carbon monoxide fumes from a faulty heater in their living quarters on December 22, 1981.
Many of those seeds he planted have been sprouting these past few years.

In the March 1985 New Era there is a story about Bruce Drennan called “Planting the Seeds of Testimony.” What a beautiful tribute to a young man to have the Book of Mormon project go forth with such love and enthusiasm.
We just attended a district conference in the beautiful new chapel at Achacachi (which includes the Suriquiña branch). As we sat on the stand and viewed all those beautiful Aymara Indians all dressed in their native costumes, filling the chapel to overflowing, in the aisles and hallways—it was a sight to behold. Well, our hearts were so touched. Tears welled up in our eyes, and we knew that Elder Drennan and Elder Bons did truly plant seeds in Bolivia and that the harvest is still going on.
We are building 35 new chapels this year in Bolivia, and we have a mission goal of 1,000 baptisms for the month of December, 1985. Truly those two elders who gave their lives while doing the work of the Lord in Bolivia planted seeds that will bless people’s lives throughout eternity.
President and Sister F. Melvin HammondBolivia Cochabamba Mission

Ward members find ways for a young man to serve.