Gospel Story Finder

Sister Larsen and I were assigned earlier this year to visit two stakes in Europe. The conferences were on successive weekends. Midweek one of our daughters and her husband, who were in Europe on business of their own at that time, arranged their schedules so that they could join us for a day in one of the beautiful cities of Europe. During the course of the day, we visited a lovely shopping center that featured the beautiful porcelain ware for which that city is well known. The work is exquisitely beautiful and very expensive.
As my daughter and I were standing side by side admiring some of the porcelain figurines that were placed on the shelves of this store, and older lady stepped up to our side, apparently attracted by one of the beautiful figurines on a shelf above us. Wanting to inspect it more closely, she reached up and took it in her hands to bring it down closer to her. It slipped from her fingers to the marble floor and broke into many pieces.
The sound of breaking attracted the attention of everyone in the shop. Instinctively, I stepped away. Just as instinctively, my daughter did the opposite thing. She quickly stepped to the side of this elderly lady, put her arm around her, whispered some consoling words in her ear, and then stooped to begin to pick up the pieces of the porcelain object. I felt a little chagrined for myself, but a deep sense of pride and love for my daughter. In my mind and by commitment, I knew what I should have done, but instinctively, I did not. By instinct, she did what the Savior would have done.

In the year a.d. 325 the Roman emperor Constantine convened the Council of Nicaea to address—among other things—the growing issue of God’s alleged “trinity in unity.” What emerged from the heated contentions of churchmen, philosophers, and ecclesiastical dignitaries came to be known (after another 125 years and three more major councils) as the Nicene Creed, with later reformulations such as the Athanasian Creed. These various evolutions and iterations of creeds—and others to come over the centuries—declared the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost to be abstract, absolute, transcendent, immanent, consubstantial, coeternal, and unknowable, without body, parts, or passions and dwelling outside space and time. In such creeds all three members are separate persons, but they are a single being, the oft-noted “mystery of the trinity.” They are three distinct persons, yet not three Gods but one. All three persons are incomprehensible, yet it is one God who is incomprehensible.

A young man returning from his mission shared his experience with faith. He acknowledged it as a miracle in his life. He said, “I was the first of six children born to my parents. My mother and father taught me when I was young the principles of the gospel. Faith was taught through the example of both my mother and father. When I was only 10 years old, my father, this great example of trusting the Lord, was killed in an accident. I was young and had many feelings to deal with that were new to me.” This young man said he realized that he had two choices available to him—“I could have become bitter towards the Lord and lost all that I now have, or I could trust the Lord. Because of the example of my parents, trust was the path I chose. Choosing faith has made all of the difference.”

Soon after my oldest son was born, he was diagnosed with a birth defect called Hirschsprung’s disease. He spent time in the neonatal intensive care unit, required home care, and underwent surgery. It was a scary time.

When my husband announced to his mother that he was going to marry me, a rather tall blonde, she replied, “She’s a lovely girl, but isn’t she a little short?”
We have laughed about that since. I suppose there had to be some shortcomings in a girl who was to take over the number-one spot in her son’s life—he with the straight A’s and straightened teeth. She had sacrificed for him by selling her cows and their cream, her sheep and their shearing, to put him through medical school—and he had turned out to be her idea of an ideal man.
But, luckily for me, she didn’t require that he marry an ideal girl. She accepted me and loved me immediately and unconditionally for everything I was—and for some things I wasn’t. That’s why I lovingly referred to her not as my “mother-in-law,” but as my “mother-in-love.”

Of course, in any happy home there must be time for study and for work. “Henrik is always good to help with the dishes and to clean his room,” his mother says. “And he really likes to help his dad in the garden.” Henrik is also learning to play the piano—in fact, he learned a piece and played it at Michael’s baptism.

I’m home now, at our dinner table, after working my four-hour shift in the bookstore. Mom has just warmed up a plate of food for me.
“I think we’ll have fun in that class,” she says, scrubbing off a pot in the kitchen sink. “I can’t believe we ended up together. Of course, if you think it’s too awkward to have me in the same class, I could transfer.”
“Oh, no, Mom. I don’t mind at all,” I tell her, hiding the fact that for one more semester my social life probably will be roughly on par with a turnip. “But why family relations? It’s not like you don’t have any experience. Remember us? Your five children?”
Mom stands up straight and sets aside her dish rag. “Well, I’m taking three classes. Geology, because every time I’ve looked out this window in the last 27 years, I’ve seen mountains. I want to know more about those mountains. The humanities class is to help me better appreciate the beauty around me.” She picks up the rag and begins some intense scrubbing on a casserole dish. “And the family relations class—that’s to help me know if I could have done a few things better.”
I know what she is talking about—my younger sister, Jan. A little more than two years ago, when I was on my mission in Peru, Jan left home just before graduating from high school. We don’t really know where she is. A phone call, a postcard, maybe a letter at Christmas, first from Chicago, then somewhere in Florida, then a half-dozen other locations. She just tells us that she is fine, working, and maybe will come back someday. We’ve all lost sleep over her.
I finish my meal and give her a hand with the rest of the dishes before heading to my room to work through some calculations for my building materials class. I hope for the millionth time that Jan is okay somewhere.

“Just before I left for my mission, Dad and I read all of the standard works of the Church together. We discussed the various subjects as they came up. What a choice experience that was—just the two of us.”

After I returned home from serving in the Guatemala Guatemala City Mission, I also traveled to Provo, Utah, to attend BYU. I was grateful for the kindness and support of so many people to help get me there. However, money was still going to be short.

Soon after I arrived in Provo, Thelma and I reviewed our financial situation. We both concluded that even with my working part-time, we did not have enough money to pay my rent and hers for the entire school year. Thelma never doubted that we would make it through that trial though. She trusted that the Lord would provide a way. Less than a week later, Thelma received a letter from BYU’s Spanish department. As she opened it, she turned to me and exclaimed, “This! This is how we are going to pay your rent!” The letter informed her that she had been accepted as a teacher’s assistant, which would increase her income.

I just had a startling revelation. I was coming home this evening after visiting a branch conference and found my son poring over the February issue of the New Era. When I find him, at 16, spending time on the important things in life, I’m naturally curious.
After he had finished and put it on the table, it was immediately obvious why he had picked it up. The cover is a picture of a cute young woman. I flipped through the magazine and, knowing my son, it was not difficult to pick out the articles he had read.
I picked them out and verified my queries with him. Had he read the article on page 4, “What Is True Greatness?” No. Had he read the article on page 16 about preparing for a mission? No.
He went through the pictures of the pretty young lady whose article begins on page 21, and he read the story starting on page 32, “A Portrait of Brenda.”
Guess who read the missionary article on page 16? My 18-year-old daughter. Not solely because it has a picture of a cute missionary, but that didn’t hurt things.
Now for my revelation. If you’d have put a picture of a pretty young woman on page 16, and titled the story something like, “Why I go for R.M.’s,” you’d probably have every 12- to 18-year-old young man in the Church reading it. If the picture on page 16 had been put on page 32, guess who would be reading that story?
True, I’ve put a little tongue in cheek here, but I just find it interesting what attracts the attention of my teenagers.
Tom HaynieGrand Blanc, Michigan

As the gospel spread throughout the islands, various Church schools were established. In 1947 the Church leased a large piece of land and began building a new school, Liahona College, now known as Liahona High School.
Dedicated in 1953 by Elder LeGrand Richards (1886–1983) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, it was to become a “guiding light” to all who would enter, and it was to prepare young people to become leaders and to influence others for good. Present also at the dedication was Queen Salote Tupou III, who endorsed the school as an instrument for building a “Christian civilization” that unites people of all walks of life. Since the school’s establishment, thousands of Liahona High School graduates have served as missionaries, Church leaders, and prominent community leaders.

Before she found the gospel, A. Munkhsaihan saw the world as a dark place with little hope. Finding faith and hope through the gospel changed the world for her.

In the years before 1990, she taught Russian. But when the political and cultural climate of Mongolia changed, she found that she needed to learn English so she could teach it. Munkhsaihan studied English for a year with Latter-day Saint missionaries. Before listening to the missionary discussions, she determined that she would examine their faith carefully. She found their religion was more than a faith based on true principles—it was a way of life. She was baptized and confirmed in June 2000, and the rest of her family joined the Church a month later. Now she sees the world as a much brighter place for her, her children, and her grandchildren. Currently, she serves as president of the Relief Society in the Ulaanbaatar district.

After the gospel changed her own life, Munkhsaihan wondered what would happen if she applied its principles in her work as a teacher. She began trying consciously to love all her students—and with some that was difficult. She began to pray for her students. Interestingly, she found herself changing; she developed a greater capacity to love them. Even though the students did not know she was praying for them, their attitudes toward her changed as well.

“As we exercise faith in the gospel, we can change ourselves,” she says.

And this, her experience suggests, is how the gospel may change Mongolia. As members change themselves through faith in Jesus Christ, they will change the world around them.

When I was 17 years old, we lived on an island in southern Norway called Andabeløy. My father converted to the Church on Andabeløy, and I was baptized in the ocean there.
I was a fisherman by that time and was well experienced in handling a boat. My father put me in charge of our maritime taxi service used by area residents.
One day in 1941 we got a call from the doctor in Flekkefjord, to the north. A woman who lived about two hours away by boat needed immediate medical attention. Dr. Hoffman asked if I could take him to see her, but my parents were worried about a storm raging in the North Sea. We decided to pray, asking Heavenly Father what to do. We received an answer that I should proceed.
When I eased Tryg, my 31-foot (10 m) fishing boat, into the sea, the weather was bad and the waves were big. After picking up the doctor, I set out through the fjord into the open sea. We were to travel to a community just north of Lista, located on Norway’s rocky southern coastline—famous for stormy weather and shipwrecks.
I steered through the storm until we got to a rocky inlet, about 40 feet (12 m) across, which led to our destination. The waves, so high I could not control the boat through the inlet, were rushing into the inlet and crashing against the rocks.
“What should we do?” the doctor asked over the gale.
“We have to pray about it,” I replied.
I paused and prayed, asking Heavenly Father for direction. As soon as I had said amen, an answer came to me clearly. I suddenly recalled a story an old fisherman had told me. He had been fishing in this same area during a bad storm and couldn’t get to shore. As he waited out the storm, he noticed a pattern in the incoming waves. After three great big waves washed in, a short period of calm followed—long enough for him to enter the inlet.
I had fished many times in this area but had never noticed a wave pattern. Nevertheless, I brought the boat to the front of the inlet, where we waited and watched as three big waves came in. Sure enough, a sudden calm followed. I glided the boat forward over the smooth water of the inner bay and brought Dr. Hoffman safely to shore. He hurried to the ill woman while I waited in the boat, thankful Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.
When the doctor returned about an hour later, he declared, “We saved her life!”
Relieved by the news and the improving weather, I piloted the boat home without incident.
I bear witness that when we need help, we should pray. I know that Heavenly Father will answer.

For example, on Christmas morning in 1925, three men walked down to the river’s edge in a park in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Most of the city was probably still sleeping late on a holiday. But these men had left their families behind and spent 21 days on a steam ship to get here. Elder Melvin J. Ballard, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, had been sent by President Heber J. Grant to dedicate the entire continent of South America for the preaching of the gospel.
So while the rest of the city still slept, Elder Ballard entered a willow grove with Elder Rulon S. Wells and Elder Rey L. Pratt. They sang hymns and read from the Book of Mormon. Then Elder Ballard offered a prayer and used his apostolic authority to “unlock and open the door for the preaching of the gospel in all these South American nations.” From that time on, like a stone tossed into a pond, the ripples of the gospel message spread outward across a continent.
Since Elder Ballard’s visit to Buenos Aires, Church membership in South America has grown from less than a dozen to over a million. Tens of thousands more are joining every year. There are an increasing number of LDS chapels, and temples have begun to dot the land.
That’s why seminary graduation time in Buenos Aires isn’t just another weekend. When Elder Ballard offered his powerful prayer in that willow grove nearly 70 years ago, he asked the Lord to “remember in mercy … the youth of thy Church who are to bear the responsibilities of the future, that they may keep themselves clean … and come to their glorious destiny.” For the LDS youth in Argentina, seminary has been one of the most direct answers to that prayer.

Twenty-three year old Tom Monson, a relatively new bishop, before leaving home that night, had received a telephone call informing him that an older member of his ward was ill and had been admitted to the hospital for care. Could the bishop, the caller wondered, find a moment to go by the hospital sometime and give a blessing? The busy young leader explained that he was just on his way to a stake meeting but that he certainly would be pleased to go by the hospital as soon as the meeting was concluded.

Now the prompting was stronger than ever: “Leave the meeting and proceed to the hospital at once.” But the stake president himself was speaking at the pulpit! It would be most discourteous to stand in the middle of the presiding officer’s message, make one’s way over an entire row of brethren, and then exit the building altogether. Painfully he waited out the final moments of the stake president’s message, then bolted for the door even before the benediction had been pronounced.

Running the full length of the corridor on the fourth floor of the hospital, the young bishop saw a flurry of activity outside the designated room. A nurse stopped him and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?”

“Yes,” was the anxious reply.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “The patient was calling your name just before he passed away.”

He vowed then and there that he would never again fail to act upon a prompting from the Lord. He would acknowledge the impressions of the Spirit when they came, and he would follow wherever they led him, ever to be “on the Lord’s errand.”

I was just a young child when my father died of pneumonia. My 14-year-old brother died just a few days later from an unrelated illness. It was the early 1930s, the middle of the Great Depression in the United States. Jobs were scarce and so was money. My mother, a nurse, struggled to provide a living for the five remaining children. It wasn’t an easy life for any of us, and I often wondered how it would all work out.
But one thing happened during those tough times that I remember as well as if it had happened yesterday, something that made me look forward with courage and hope.
About a year after my father’s passing, his cousin came to visit our home. Israel Bennion came, not just on a social call, but as the stake patriarch. Each of us children, scrubbed clean and dressed like we were going to church, waited in turn to have this dignified man place his hands on our heads and give us our patriarchal blessings.
I was only seven, not old enough to understand the significance of all that was going on. (Today, the Church advises you to wait until you’re older to get your patriarchal blessing.) But I felt a great reverence, the same sort of feeling I felt during fast and testimony meetings. I remembered his instructions, although they were brief, that my blessing should be a guide to me, something I could use to chart my course through life.
Although I was young, I was impressed by the statements Brother Bennion made as he gave me my blessing. He told me that the Spirit of the Lord would be with me as I was growing up, that the gospel would be in my heart, that I would love the work of the Lord, and that the Lord would bless me.
He spoke of the future, that I would someday be a judge in Israel, that I would have children, that I would have a strong body and a sound mind.
But most of all, he stirred something in me. He helped me to begin to realize how literally I was a son of God. The Lord knew who I was and what I was doing. If I lived the right way, the Lord would help me.
My patriarchal blessing is only 263 words long. But it has always made a deep impression on me. As I have read and reflected upon it through the years, that impression has never diminished.

My journey started when I was introduced to the Church in 2015 by my son (who is a graduate student in Texas), while he was visiting Kolkata. It was then that I had received my first Book of Mormon in Bengali and had the opportunity to visit the Relief Society president of our Kolkata Branch. Soon enough, I started taking lessons through Skype from the elders in the India New Delhi Mission. On 18 June 2016, my daughter and I became the newest members of our Kolkata Branch. My son was present to baptize us.
It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life, an experience that has left a profound impact since. The promise of baptism is the first step to join the fold of our Heavenly Father’s covenant children and it consists of our being willing to obey all of God’s commandments. Just as we immerse ourselves backwards into the waters of baptism, it provides us a chance to revisit our old life; and to cleanse ourselves of all our past sins and transgressions. And as we come forward out of the water, it is as if we have our eyes fixed onto our future: to receive eternal life. Receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost is the immediate essential step toward this eternal progression. We are promised guidance, protection and knowledge about the truth through promptings and feelings, that can come from the continual presence of the Holy Ghost in our lives. The Book of Mormon describes the Holy Ghost as the “Comforter (that) filleth with hope and perfect love, which love endureth by diligence unto prayer, until the end shall come, when all the saints shall dwell with God” (Moroni 8:26).

I was very excited to win first place in the fiction division of the New Era Writing, Art, Photography, and Music Contest. I can sincerely say that I was surprised to win anything, let alone first place. It was such a surprise, I guess because I have had very little experience in writing, and it certainly doesn’t come easily for me. I really have to struggle in my English and literature classes here at BYU. I do love great literature and hope someday to make a place for myself in it.
I wanted to write especially to thank you for the scholarship. I have just recently been married, and our finances aren’t very stable yet. This scholarship makes going to school this year much easier.
I am studying theater arts education and minoring in English teaching. I will teach high school for a while, and then I hope to move on to educational administration. I would like to write plays and fiction on the side. I love great literature for what it does to my mind and soul and would like to be able to do the same for other people with my own thoughts and feelings. I pray that I can write things that will always be uplifting and draw people to the truth.
I do appreciate the New Era. I have benefited much from what is printed in it and am thankful for the writers who contribute. I hope I can write more stories that are suitable for printing in the New Era. I thank you again for the scholarship. God bless you in your work always.

Elder Gibbons is currently President of the Brazil Area. Speaking about that assignment, Elder Gibbons said, “One time I had some important meetings that I needed to attend in Campinas, Brazil. I had a map that showed me where I was to meet the stake president, but I didn’t know that there are two roads that lead into Campinas and that we had taken the wrong one.
“After we had traveled some distance, it was obvious that we had taken the wrong road. My wife and I then drove into the city, hoping to find our hotel. Unable to communicate with anyone, we finally admitted that we were lost.
“I began to pray fervently to Heavenly Father to please help us find our stake president. Soon after I had prayed, I had the impression ‘Stop here and go into that building.’ I stopped and backed up. Sister Gibbons went into the building and found a man who spoke English. He said, ‘I can’t tell you how to get to your hotel, but I’ll lead you there.’ He got into his car and led us six or seven miles through Campinas to the outskirts of the city. The stake president was just pulling into the driveway of our hotel. Because of Heavenly Father’s help, I was able to make my meetings on time.
“I can’t think of any time in my life when I have prayed with fervency and faith that the Lord hasn’t answered that prayer.

As we remember that “when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God,” we will not find ourselves in the unenviable position of Jacob Marley’s ghost, who spoke to Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens’s immortal Christmas Carol. Marley spoke sadly of opportunities lost. Said he: “Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!”
Marley added: “Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star which led the Wise Men to a poor abode? Were there no poor homes to which its light would have conducted me!”
Fortunately, as we know, Ebenezer Scrooge changed his life for the better. I love his line, “I am not the man I was.”