Gospel Story Finder

While the streets showed no hint of white, our freezing hands and frosty breath told us it was cold enough to snow. Cotton capped and wrapped up tight, my family was enjoying our traditional Christmas Eve caroling. My parents and all 10 of us children had made it home for the holidays.
We had ended our family home evening that week by practicing the carols we wished to sing that year. Balancing the guitar on his knee, my father practiced the chords he would struggle to play in the frigid night. No one would ever line up to see my nine siblings, parents, and me sing; yet, undaunted, year after year, we wanted to share our Christmas spirit.
This year we had chosen to sing to some of our ward friends to thank them for their friendship and fellowship. The names on our list were crossed off one by one. A few of the families weren’t home, so we finished our planned visits early. My dad asked my mother if she knew of anyone else we should visit before returning home for hot chocolate. My mother’s eyes lit up after a moment’s thought. She felt impressed to visit the Ramage family.
The Ramages were a sweet couple, grayed with maturity and experience. Brother Ramage had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. We thought at first that it might be too late to visit, but, persuaded by my mother’s urgings, we filed into our van and headed to our destination.
Tiptoeing in the quiet night air, we gathered around the front porch of the Ramage’s simple home while my younger brother rang the doorbell. To our surprise, Sister Ramage, wrapped in a flannel shawl, answered the door almost immediately. Startled by her quick appearance, we falteringly began singing “Silent Night.” After croaking our way through “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” we were surprised to see a single chilled tear hanging on Sister Ramage’s cheek. After we sang, she gave us cookies while she visited with my mother.
Our parents later told us that Brother and Sister Ramage had bravely confronted the doctor’s grim diagnosis. So on that Christmas Eve, just a few months before Brother Ramage would pass away, Sister Ramage had been especially troubled in her heart, anticipating the loss of her husband. Unable to sleep and struggling in spirit, she retired to the dark of their living room. Sitting near the door, she needed little time to respond when the bell rang. As unimpressive as our family choir was, it meant a great deal to her. Seeing our family huddled together reminded her of the promise of an eternal family.
That Sunday, as we wandered into the chapel before sacrament meeting, our eyes fell to where Brother and Sister Ramage sat together. Sister Ramage’s eyes sparkled. She welcomed us with a bright smile that warmed my spirit. Never had I expected our musical effort to be an answer to someone’s prayer.
I realized that a lot of good things can take place through seemingly unimpressive means, like our family’s caroling. The Savior came into the world in humble circumstances. In both cases, the true beauty was in the gift given, and such gifts are what make Christmas meaningful.

Fresh pine
sent a scent
and rain came
calling.
They said
good-bye
suddenly,
but
soon after,
a rainbow stood
on its head
and grinned
at me.
I’d like him
to chat and laugh
a little
longer.
But
good
doesn’t always
stay for dinner.

Following a high school football game you are invited to join a party with some of the players. The young man who ran the kickoff back for the winning touchdown is there. He is handsome and very friendly. He is eager that you be fully included.
Suddenly someone produces a pack of cigarettes, another pulls out several cans of beer, one fellow has some “hard stuff.” One of your friends surprises you by accepting a can of beer. The boy who made the winning touchdown offers you a beer. Suddenly the grizzly bear is staring you in the face, as big as life. Will you cast your principles aside, or will you utter a silent prayer and remain loyal to the principles you know are true?

Heavenly Father has also given us resources outside of spiritual tools to help us heal, and He wants us to utilize them. For example, Elder Kyle S. McKay of the Seventy spoke of a woman who had a drug addiction. And although she experienced the “immediate goodness of God,” at her lowest point she still needed help from others as well. Elder McKay explained, “Healing and ultimate deliverance took a long time—months of treatment, training, and counseling, during which she was sustained and sometimes carried by His goodness.”3

Not long after we were married, we built our first home. We had very little money. I did much of the work myself. It would be called “sweat equity” today. The landscaping was entirely my responsibility. The first of many trees that I planted was a thornless honey locust. Envisioning the day when its filtered shade would assist in cooling the house in the summertime, I put it in a place at the corner where the wind from the canyon to the east blew the hardest. I dug a hole, put in the bare root, put soil around it, poured on water, and largely forgot it. It was only a wisp of a tree, perhaps three-quarters of an inch in diameter. It was so supple that I could bend it with ease in any direction. I paid little attention to it as the years passed.
Then one winter day, when the tree was barren of leaves, I chanced to look out the window at it. I noticed that it was leaning to the west, misshapen and out of balance. I could scarcely believe it. I went out and braced myself against it as if to push it upright. But the trunk was now nearly a foot in diameter. My strength was as nothing against it. I took from my toolshed a block and tackle. Attaching one end to the tree and another to a well-set post, I pulled the rope. The pulleys moved a little, and the trunk of the tree trembled slightly. But that was all. It seemed to say, “You can’t straighten me. It’s too late. I’ve grown this way because of your neglect, and I will not bend.”
Finally in desperation I took my saw and cut off the great heavy branch on the west side. The saw left an ugly scar, more than eight inches across. I stepped back and surveyed what I had done. I had cut off the major part of the tree, leaving only one branch growing skyward.
More than half a century has passed since I planted that tree. My daughter and her family live there now. The other day I looked again at the tree. It is large. Its shape is better. It is a great asset to the home. But how serious was the trauma of its youth and how brutal the treatment I used to straighten it.
When it was first planted, a piece of string would have held it in place against the forces of the wind. I could have and should have supplied that string with ever so little effort. But I did not, and it bent to the forces that came against it.

Daily study of the scriptures is another important family activity. I remember when my son was seven years old. He was taking a shower one night during a storm when we lost the power in our home. My wife called to him and told him to hurry to finish his shower and to then take a candle and come slowly downstairs for our family prayer. She warned him to be careful to not drop the candle on the carpet because it could start a fire and the house could burn down. Several minutes later he came down the stairs struggling to hold the candle in one hand, and with his other arm he was carrying his scriptures. His mother asked him why he was bringing his scriptures. His answer to her was, “Mom, if the house burns down, I must save my scriptures!” We knew that our efforts to help him to love the scriptures had been planted in his heart forever.

In my profession as an airline captain one of my routes was from Frankfurt, Germany, to Miami, Florida. On one flight we had completed our departure out of Europe and were on our assigned route for an orderly and safe crossing of the North Atlantic. Our Boeing 747 was cruising smoothly at 33,000 feet. Behind us lay the green coast of Ireland, and only four hours ahead was Newfoundland on the east coast of the North American continent. The planned flight time from Frankfurt to Miami was 10 hours, 16 minutes, and we would cover 4,955 nautical miles. The weather forecast called for an uneventful flight. We had 386 passengers aboard.
While checking the instruments and communicating by shortwave radio with ground control, we saw the contrails of two other jetliners many miles ahead. Obviously, we were faster, and soon we were close enough to recognize the aircraft types and their markings. They were on the same North Atlantic crossing route. One was 2,000 feet above and the other was 2,000 feet below our cruising level. As we slowly overtook those beautiful aircraft, my copilot mentioned how remarkable it was that because of true and accurate information entered into the navigation units at the start of our flights, all three jets were precisely on the same track, separated only by altitude. And we would continue to be so if the crews used identical navigational points leading to the same destination.

One who received and welcomed the gift of peace was Joseph Millett, an early missionary to the Maritime Provinces of Canada, who learned while there and in his later experiences in life of the need to rely on heavenly help. An experience which he recalled in his journal is a beautiful illustration of simple yet profound faith:
“One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’
“You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett.”
Prayer brought the gift of peace to Newton Hall and to Joseph Millett.

Keeping the Sabbath day holy became a challenge for Annabelle Hyatt when she was hired for an internship with an amusement-park company. Growing up in Texas, USA, Annabelle was taught to worship, rest, and serve others on the Sabbath. But when she moved to Florida to start her internship, she had to work on Sundays.
She explains, “At first I dutifully went to work, just as everyone else did. After a few weeks, I started to notice how sad I was feeling during the week without taking the sacrament or hearing inspiring words that I needed more than ever.”
One day she prayed for help and mustered the courage to talk to her supervisor about her desire to attend church and not work on Sundays. Her supervisor didn’t understand why it was so important to her. But Annabelle persisted. Every time she saw her manager or scheduling supervisor, she mentioned that she needed Sundays off and was willing to work extra hard other days in order to make it happen.
“Eventually, by a miracle it happened!” she says. “My days off work became Saturday and Sunday, which is unheard of for a seasonal intern who was barely a month into the program. The privilege of having the weekends off was normally reserved for those with seniority status.”
She testifies of the blessings: “Being able to bring the light of going to church back into my life, I could see and feel a dramatic difference. When my co-workers asked why I go to church or why it’s so important, I would tell them to come with me. I started bringing some of my co-workers to church. I know without a doubt that the gospel of Jesus Christ is worth standing up for. Sabbath day observance is a necessity to have the Spirit in your life and become a better person.”
Annabelle, like many young adults, was blessed as she remained committed to keeping the Sabbath day holy. Although it can be a challenge to withstand pressure to work or participate in activities we normally enjoy during the week, keeping the Sabbath day holy is ultimately a matter of obedience, attitude, and choice. Great blessings will come. These three young adults share their testimonies that the Lord helps His children keep His day holy.

The message I am sharing with you today is that the gospel protects us and that the gospel principle of repentance has the ability to restore us if we have committed a sin. Recently I received a letter written by a young lady who went on a long, dark journey, a journey that ultimately led her into moral transgression. Her story is important because she is going through the anguish of full repentance and now is beginning to feel the joy that honest repentance can bring. She has asked that her personal experience be shared with you in the hope that there might be one who can be helped and not take that same journey. She writes (excerpts from a letter):
“It began when I left my home to go to college. Until that time, under the righteous guardianship of my parents, I had not indulged in the loose morals of my friends and acquaintances.
“Probably the first dent in the armor of faith which my parents had built up around me was the realization that some ‘good returned missionaries’ were not always so good and really did indulge in necking and petting episodes. I began to think that a certain amount of physical relations were natural and included them in the closer relationships I had with young men.
“Satan is insidious. He leads a person away from the righteous way of living and little by little tempts them into greater and greater wrongs.
“The months passed, and I fell further and further from the truth. I moved in with a friend who was inactive in the Church and who also had loose morals and drank and smoked. With her I visited bars and nightclubs I never would have gone into on my own initiative.
“Next, I stopped attending Church meetings and even stopped praying. I found that my whole life had changed. I was always depressed. My grades dropped to an all-time low. I couldn’t get along with my roommates. Everything, everything, was wrong.
“I found myself totally rejecting the Church and all its teachings. I knew in the depths of my soul that I was afraid. I was truly a ‘ship without a rudder.’
“I found myself searching everywhere for some semblance of security and stability. My parents were physically a long way away. But even at long distance they sensed some of my inner conflict and were worried.
“I finally met a young man, also inactive, with whom I thought I was in love. By then it was easy for me to convince myself that making love was all right as long as I truly felt that I loved the man. So I made love and desecrated the temple of my body. I became pregnant. When I realized my condition, I went to the young man and told him of my problem. He wanted nothing to do with me or my baby. He did say he would pay for an abortion, however, if I so desired.
“At first I rejected the very idea of abortion, but as I thought about it, I began to rationalize. It took me a couple of weeks to talk myself into making an appointment and having the abortion done.
“Shortly thereafter I had the good fortune to meet and marry a young man of extremely high caliber. He was not active in the Church, but he was and is morally a fine, honest, upstanding man. Ever since that time, I have been working and living toward the goal of becoming active in the Church and of once again attaining a position of righteousness in our Heavenly Father’s kingdom.
“A few months ago I realized I must go to the bishop of my ward and confess the terrible things I had done. I did so knowing that my sins were grievous before the Lord, that I faced possible disfellowshipment or even excommunication. I also knew that the time had come to put myself and my life into the Lord’s hands, that I might be able to cleanse my sins and stand spotless before Him on the judgment day.
“I made an appointment one Sunday afternoon with the bishop. He took time out of his busy schedule to hear of my terrible transgressions. Oh, how I prayed to my Heavenly Father before my interview. The bishop was kindly. He asked that I would have the courage to tell him everything; that I would not hold anything back. As I tried to touch lightly on my transgressions and go on, I couldn’t! A horrible tightening in my throat and chest made it impossible for me to go on. I suddenly knew it was the answer to my prayers. The Spirit of our Father in heaven was with me demanding complete confession. I bear witness that I felt the Spirit constraining me to tell the whole truth!
“It isn’t easy to admit past sins even to ourselves. I found that it was as hard for me to admit the exact nature of my sins to myself as it was to admit them to the bishop. I didn’t want to think about them.
“After my confession the bishop commended me on taking the first step toward returning to my Heavenly Father and outlined additional steps to prepare me for the day when I would realize that I had truly been forgiven. He emphasized that he, himself, could not forgive me. That was the Lord’s decision. He helped me to understand that I could be forgiven, that my Heavenly Father loves me, that I could gain an awareness of my future goals and not constantly condemn myself all of my life, thus halting my eternal progression. He asked me to read the Miracle of Forgiveness by President Spencer W. Kimball. It helped a great deal in making me aware of the process of forgiveness. We had several appointments, the bishop and I, so that he could help me to see my course toward reestablishing myself in good standing in the Church.
“Following my interview with the bishop, I found myself alternating between depression in which I wondered if I would ever be forgiven and becoming lax in doing the things I should be doing. I have learned that ‘to change’ isn’t easy. It takes time. One must learn to ‘try’ and ‘try again.’
“Now I find myself growing ever closer to the Lord—more positive. I know if I continue to work and to grow, my Father in heaven will forgive me, but most importantly, I will also forgive myself. The important thing is that I must persevere in doing what I know to be right.
“If my experiences sound familiar, I beg you from the very depth of my heart to please pause and take stock of your life. Do not be misled by the superficial moral codes of our day. They are Satan’s most persuasive tools. They have no eternal significance. It is Satan who will entice us away from the joyous richness awaiting us in the eternal family circle.
“You are sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father. Stay true to your birthright. Do not bring into your lives the miseries and anguish of soul that I brought into mine. Refrain from doing things that will make you eternally sorry. Prepare yourselves in righteousness to do the things in life that will make you eternally happy.”
The true story we have shared is a testimony by a young lady who is coming back from the depths of depression to make a new life for herself.

Andrew G., age 6, Pennsylvania, USA
I needed some help delivering my school captain speech because I was really nervous. So I said a private prayer. I ended up delivering my speech well and was voted school captain!

I was a student at Brigham Young University just finishing my first year of graduate work when our first child, a son, was born. We were very poor, though not so poor as Joseph and Mary. My wife and I were both going to school, both working, and in addition we worked as head residents in an off-campus apartment complex to help pay our rent. We drove a little Volkswagen which had a half-dead battery because we couldn’t afford a new one (Volkswagen or battery).
Nevertheless, when I realized that our own special night was coming, I believe I would have done any honorable thing in this world, and mortgaged any future, to make sure my wife had the clean sheets, the sterile utensils, the attentive nurses, and the skilled doctors who brought forth our firstborn son. If she or that child had needed special care at the finest private medical center, ! believe I would have ransomed my very life to get it.

Hello,I am having such a wonderful experience as a sister missionary. One of the greatest things about serving a mission here is that the missionaries I serve with are from several different countries and speak many different languages. Missionary work here is unique. Instead of going out and finding people to teach, people actually come to us. They enjoy looking in the visitors’ centers and other nearby buildings. I especially love to testify about eternal families when people see all of the newlywed brides and grooms and ask why they get married here.

Second, pay your tithing to rightfully claim the blessings promised those who do so. “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” After she lost her husband in the martyrdom at Nauvoo and made her way west with five fatherless children, Mary Fielding Smith continued in her poverty to pay tithing. When someone at the tithing office inappropriately suggested one day that she should not contribute a tenth of the only potatoes she had been able to raise that year, she cried out to the man, “William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. [I need a blessing.] By keeping this and other laws, I expect … to be able to provide for my family.”

I’ve had many blessings in my life—spiritual blessings. I had good parents, a good education, material blessings like a good home. I always had enough to eat, always a bed to sleep in, and many, many other blessings. I had the opportunity of working in business capacities, and in this capacity, of seeing the world, seeing many people. I have had many opportunities, but the greatest blessing that has come to me came through humble missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I want to express gratitude for all that I have to these young men that came to our home—not only that they came, but that they had love enough not to give up. I was a very hard case. I had thought that through my education, and through my background, and my history, and my family that I would be superior. I felt pity for the missionaries. I said, “Well, this fine young man, with such a poor message!” They didn’t give up. They came again and again and again. And I felt an authority radiating through them that was stronger and more than all the knowledge that I had in my previous life—the authority of the true love of Christ. I want to give thanks to this generation of missionaries who did not give up and to the mission president who had concern enough not to withdraw the missionaries from me. It was Elder Theodore M. Burton. I will never forget that.
I will tell you that I’m deeply convinced that this is in my life the most important blessing I have ever received. It changed my life totally. I began to realize that a man can know nothing important in this world unless he has knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ restored by his prophet, Joseph Smith, and follow-through by a living prophet, Spencer W. Kimball. Without this message I would not have a family like I have now. I would not have the love for my lovely wife that I have now, and I would not be able to be so proud of my children.

In my own life there was a time when I found myself wondering why I was not able to exercise more faith, especially since I felt I had a testimony that God lives and that he is perfect and is able to do all things. As I pondered and prayed about the matter, I came to the realization that while I believed in our Father in heaven and his love and power, I was unsure of my own worthiness to receive the blessings I desired. I was also unsure at times that what I wanted was the Lord’s will—or at least wasn’t contrary to his will.

Turning to our own time, let me share with you an example of faith, of courage, of compassion, of victory. It illustrates how it is possible to meet life’s challenges—head-on. It exemplifies the ability to suffer physical impairment, endure pain and suffering, and yet never complain. Such are Wendy Bennion of Sandy, Utah, and Jami Palmer of Park Valley, Utah. Both are teenagers; both have borne similar afflictions. Their situations run almost parallel. Since Wendy’s battle has been of a longer duration, I shall speak today of her.
Stricken with cancer at a tender age, subjected to long periods of chemotherapy, Wendy persevered valiantly. Teachers cooperated, parents and family helped—but the mainstay in her affliction has been her indomitable spirit. Wendy has brought cheer to others similarly afflicted. She has prayed for them; she has sustained them with her own example and faith.
After Wendy completed eighteen months of chemotherapy, a balloon-launching party was held in her honor. The public media covered the event. One of the many balloons launched that day was found miles away by Jayne Johnson. It had landed in her backyard, and she discovered it just as she was starting her own chemotherapy treatments. She wrote to Wendy, indicating she had been feeling sad and frightened but that finding the balloon and the note inside—which told about Wendy, her cancer, and the completion of her treatments—had given her the strength and that Wendy was a real inspiration to her. Wendy said, “I think she was supposed to find that balloon so that she would know that it’s not the end of the world and that people do get better.”
Though Wendy’s cancer recurred and a second round of therapy was needed, this choice young lady has not wavered, nor has she shrunk from her course. Rarely have I witnessed one with such courage, such determination, such faith. The same can be said of Jami Palmer. They personify the words of the poetess Ella Wheeler Wilcox, who wrote:
It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of earth
Is the smile that shines through tears.

A way that I make scriptures easier or more fun to read is to have a study list with five steps: pray, search/read, ponder, write, and give thanks to Heavenly Father for the things that I learned. Another thing I am doing is taking a red colored pencil and putting a red check mark in my scriptures every time Jesus Christ is mentioned (you would be surprised at how many different names the Savior has!) and taking a yellow colored pencil and highlighting every time Jesus Christ speaks. This way I am actively looking for Christ.
Ceana B., 17, Oregon, USA

Last summer I climbed a mountain. A group of friends and I started at 1:00 a.m. at the base, with the goal of reaching the summit to watch the sunrise. The first four hours were miserable. We walked in the dark, plodding onward, one foot in front of the other. It was too dark to see the top of the mountain outline, our goal, so I kept my head down, using my headlamp to light the way.

As I climbed the mountain last summer, I experienced a gradual change. As the sun came up, my mood lifted. I could see more clearly; I felt more purpose as my goal came into view. When the sunlight finally fell directly on me, I felt like a changed person. The warmth reinvigorated me, and I found myself happy, talkative, joyful, and full of energy.

In a similar manner, dwelling on questions in the dark can sap our gospel energy. During the first half of the hike, I felt hopeless and exhausted. It seemed like I would never reach my goal. When I was walking in the light, I felt energized and optimistic, even though I still had a long way to walk. Choosing to search for answers while coming closer to Jesus Christ and moving into His light can fill us with His Spirit and help us remain hopeful as we move toward further understanding.

As an 11-year-old, I prepared for my first real babysitting job, and I didn’t quite know what to expect. As I entered the home I became a little nervous at the sight of cigarettes on the table and various containers of alcohol on the kitchen counter.

As the mom explained the basic babysitting procedures for her children, she also asked me where I went to school and what my favorite subjects were. Then she asked what church I went to. At that moment I froze. I didn’t know how to answer because I didn’t know what kind of reaction I would get from someone who obviously didn’t live by LDS standards. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear her, and I continued to prepare the baby’s crib for her nap. A little louder and more curious, she asked again, “Where do you go to church?”

I turned around slowly and with my head slightly lowered whispered, “I’m Mormon.” Although my response was barely audible, she knew exactly what I said. Contrary to what I was expecting, this woman began to reprimand me for lacking the confidence to be proud of being a Mormon. Although I don’t remember her exact words, I do remember her sharing stories about all the Mormons she had encountered in her life and how wonderful they were. She lectured me about standing up for what I believe in, holding my head up high, and being proud to be a Latter-day Saint.

The rest of the evening I babysat and pondered this woman’s words. I knew that if I was going to be a good member of the Church, I had to give it my all. I don’t remember how much money I made that evening or even how long I babysat, but I do know that once you discover you have a testimony, you have to stand up for what you know is right.