Gospel Story Finder

One such young man who became a casualty of this conflict was a respected husband and community member. Someone with whom he worked brought lurid bits of pornography and passed them around the office. At first it was treated as a joke, and those who viewed them kidded each other about such things of the world. This young man, however, mainly out of curiosity, thought he should study them carefully in case he might have occasion to help others combat such evils of the world. As he looked at the items more and more frequently, he was overcome by a spirit of the adversary that he did not recognize. Soon he sought more pornographic materials from his fellow employee, and the two of them began to spend more time discussing these evil things.

Still thinking he was becoming enlightened as to the ways of the world so that he could be a stronger influence for good among his friends, this young man became trapped by his own ignorance of the enemy’s ways. His associate convinced him that he should experiment with the actions portrayed in the materials he was viewing. With his spiritual sensitivity dulled, he agreed, and he approached his wife with the idea. She was surprised and shocked by his suggestions, and when he continued his insensitive pleas, she finally refused to have anything to do with him. In his distorted condition he sought gratification elsewhere, and in the end he lost her, his family, and his self-respect.

On a visit to London, Stephens first stumbled over his future in the form of Descriptions of an Ancient City, by a Capitán Del Rio, who had visited a strange, ruined city in Mexico called Palenque. He later learned of a second lost Mexican city, Uxmal. In 1835, he eagerly pounced upon a professional journal describing a ruined Honduran city, Copan.
Palenque, Copan, Uxmal. His mind now stirred with visions of nebulous civilization that had existed in Central America. Amazingly enough, he seemed the only one interested. “Instead of electrifying the public,” he wrote, “little notice was taken [of the Copan article].” Nonetheless, he announced his intention to search for those lost cities.
“Nonsense!” roared scientists and public alike. Indians had never progressed beyond savagery. Americans of that age could believe in almost anything other than an “Indian” civilization, in spite of evidence from the conquest. Such proofs were either ignored or downgraded as Spanish public-relations puffery. Scholars and historians held fast to their antiquated beliefs and scorned Stephens’ efforts.

“Are you going to paint this Saturday?” has been the familiar question among many college youth in Las Vegas, where they have painted the inside and outside of a church built by the Afro-Methodist Episcopal Church whose members were having trouble getting the building finished. The congregation lacked funds. The Student Association of Las Vegas Region pitched in and raised $4,000, in addition to painting the building. Under the direction of priesthood leader James Seastrand, president of the Las Vegas North Stake, and Reverend Charles Wyatt, the project got under way. It was a great time of togetherness, with the Relief Society and the ladies of the Afro-Methodist congregation providing lunch each workday. Funds were raised through dances, bake sales, car washes, and concerts. “The unity among the students and with people of another race was something wonderful to behold,” said Shauna Rollins, vice-chairman of one M Men-Gleaner Council in the area.

At the airport we tried to be adults—
No ransacking the gift shop, or begging
For ice cream cones. No, we were old
In our Sunday bests, your new suit hanging
A little large on your shoulders, my high
Heels concealing the run in my stocking.
We had to play grown-up to say good-bye.
If we’d kept our youth we would be running,
Hiding behind plants, jeering at tourists,
Pointing in awe at slow-rising jets.
No hesitant “Aufwiedersehen” for us;
Our childlike love could not admit that yet.
We couldn’t know that life always brings change
And soon post office wouldn’t be a game.

On Sunday, Brother Edwards walked by the driveway where Pete was playing basketball. Brother Edwards was wearing a white shirt and tie, and under his arm he had a book. He stopped and watched Pete sink a jump shot from the corner of the garage.
“Hey, Pete,” he called, “are you coming to church today?”
Pete caught the ball before it could bounce under the fence. He dribbled it between his legs while he looked at Brother Edwards. “Nah,” he said. “Church is boring. Besides, I need to practice using my left hand.”
Pete bounced the ball back and forth, first with one hand, then with the other. Suddenly he spun around and drove hard toward the basket. He used his left hand to gently push the ball up toward the hoop. It touched the backboard and dropped through the net.
“Wow!” said Brother Edwards. “How long did you practice before you learned to do that?”
Pete shrugged. “I don’t know. I practice every day.”
“Every day! Why do you do that?”
“Because I have to. I want to be gooood.”
The next Sunday Brother Edwards stopped again. He was wearing a different tie this time, but under his arm was the same big book. He stood at the top of the driveway and watched Pete, who was concentrating very hard on the basket. Pete turned the ball over in his hand and dribbled it once. Then he took a deep breath, bent his knees, and shot.
The ball hit the inside of the rim and bounced out. It rolled off the back of the car and down the driveway. Brother Edwards stopped it with his foot. “Uh-oh,” he said as he stooped to pick it up. “Did I break your concentration?”
Pete caught the pass from Brother Edwards and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s OK. I have to get used to it.”
“How many had you hit before that one?” Brother Edwards asked.
“Eight in a row. I need to get to twenty-one without a miss.”
“Why do you have to do that? You’re already a good free-throw shooter.”
“I want to be as good as my big brother,” Pete said. “When he was my age, he hit twenty-one in a row without missing. Now he plays for a college team. He makes eighty-one percent of his free throws. He’s gooood.”
Pete stood at the edge of the driveway, the toe of his sneaker on the painted yellow line. He dribbled the ball slowly and concentrated. He took a breath, bent his knees, and shot.
Brother Edwards waited for the ball to go through the net. “Good shot,” he said. “That’s one.”
Pete smiled and dribbled the ball back to the yellow line. He made another one.
“You know a lot about your brother,” Brother Edwards said. “Is he your hero?”
Pete shrugged. “I don’t know. I like to go to his games and watch him on TV. I saved all the articles about him from the newspaper. I even have the basketball from when his team won the state championship. I could show it to you some time. He signed it.”
“Wow! I’d like to see that.”
Pete was quiet for a moment as he stood at the line, turning the ball over and over in his hand. Finally he spoke. “Yeah, I guess you could say he’s my hero, ‘cause I want to be just like him. He’s the best.”
On Tuesday, Brother Edwards was mowing his lawn when Pete came walking home from school. Pete carried a backpack on one shoulder; with the other hand he was bouncing a ball. Brother Edwards slowed the mower and called across the hedge. “I see you’re still practicing. How was school?”
Pete stopped and adjusted the backpack to the other shoulder, but he kept the ball bouncing. “Oh, you know—just the same stuff over and over. School’s pretty boring.”
“I know what you mean. Sometimes I get tired of mowing this lawn over and over, but I know what would happen if I stopped working at it.”
“Yeah,” Pete said, “I guess it would get pretty bad.”
“By the way, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
Pete looked surprised. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Sure you did. On Sunday. About practicing. You said you practice all the time so you can be good, like your brother.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Pete. “So?”
“Do you really do it every day?”
“That’s right,” said Pete. “If I didn’t practice, I’d forget what I already learned.”
Brother Edwards was amazed. “Some people would think that that was pretty boring—doing the same things over and over. Some people would wonder why you work so hard at it.”
“It isn’t boring. I like practicing, and I like working hard.” He dribbled behind his back without looking. “And someday all the work is going to pay off.” He went off down the street with the basketball still going. “Like I said,” he called back, “I’m going to be like my brother, and he’s the best.”
The next Sunday, Brother Edwards walked right on by. “Hey,” called Pete, “aren’t you going to stop for a minute?”
“Maybe just for a minute,” said Brother Edwards, “but I have to hurry. I’m on my way to practice.”
“I thought you were going to church,” said Pete.
“I am. I’m going there to practice. I have a hero, too, you know.”
“No way,” said Pete. “You have a hero? Who is he? What team does he play for?”
“He doesn’t play for any team.”
“Oh,” said Pete. “Is he one of those old guys? Have I ever heard of him?”
“Well, He did live a long time ago, but I’ll bet you’ve heard of Him. He’s the best kind of gooood. And the cool thing is, He can be everybody’s hero.”
Pete couldn’t believe his ears. He tried to think of all the famous names he knew, but he couldn’t guess. “Who is it?” he said. “Tell me, tell me.”
Brother Edwards laughed. “I’ll give you a hint. This book is all about Him.” He held out the blue book.
Pete stepped closer. “Hey, that’s the Book of Mormon. Oh, I know what you mean—you’re talking about Jesus Christ. But that doesn’t count. Jesus isn’t like a real hero.”
“Sure He is. He’s my hero. He was the best at everything He did. And wouldn’t you agree that He’s gooood?”
“Yeah, He was, but He’s not even alive.”
“Sure He is. He’s alive, and some people have seen Him. Some day I’m going to meet Him too.”
Pete was holding the ball under his arm and looking funny at Brother Edwards. “But why do you go to church?” he said. “Church is boring.”
“I don’t think so. I like learning about my hero, just like you like practicing the same shot over and over. That would seem pretty boring to me. Or reading all those newspaper articles. I bet you don’t think that’s boring.”
“Nope—it’s kind of fun. I guess it’s because I know my brother, and … I want to be like him so much. …”
On the fourth Sunday, Pete was shooting layups. He didn’t seem to be very interested, and he missed most of the shots. When he saw Brother Edwards, he dropped the ball on the grass. “Hey,” he called, “wait up. I have something to show you.” He ran into his house and was gone for a while. When he came back out, he had a book in his hand. “Look at this,” he called as he ran down the drive. “Look what my brother sent me.” Brother Edwards could see it was the Book of Mormon. Pete opened it and turned the pages until he came to a picture of Jesus. “See? It has all these stories about things Jesus did.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Brother Edwards said. “It’s just like mine. You could bring it to church with you. …” Suddenly Brother Edwards noticed that Pete wasn’t wearing his grubbies. “Are you coming to church today, Pete?”
Pete smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I have to come to church. I have to practice, don’t I?”
Brother Edwards laughed. “Well,” he said as they walked down the street together, “only if you want to be gooood.”

In Joseph’s own account of the First Vision he tells of entering the grove and kneeling to supplicate the Lord. Suddenly he felt a literal darkness—“some power which entirely overcame me … the power of some actual being from the unseen world.” (JS—H 1:15–16.) How to handle the feeling of such an evil influence was hard to conceptualize and then transfer onto the film. On the plane to New York the week before, David Jacobs had been studying some research material on a recently discovered account of the vision written by Joseph.
A couple of sentences jumped out at him as he read: Joseph said, “I heard a noise behind me like someone walking toward me. I strove again to pray, but could not; the noise of walking seemed to draw nearer. I sprang upon my feet and looked around, but saw no person or thing that was calculated to produce the noise of walking.” (As quoted in Dean Jesse, “Early Accounts of the First Vision,” BYU Studies, Spring 1969, p. 284.) “I knew instantly,” Dave said, “that this was how I wanted to get into the darkness scene. It was dramatic. It was true.”

Recently I read a blog post where the author talked about how the Savior plays a vital role in her daily life. I was happy she was willing to share her feelings, but I was saddened by one reader’s response: “He is of no importance whatever in my life—never has been and never will be.”

What if you are lost and have no map? Suppose you are alone. You do not know where you are. What can you do? You call for help. You call home. Call the Church. Pray. When connected with your help line, you learn that you need to make a climb here or a turn there to get back on course. Or you may have to go back to the beginning in order to be certain that you can get where you want to go.

While most members had plenty of food, cooking it with the power off was a problem. And since everyone was so busy trying to clean up their homes, the evening meals provided by different wards in the stake were extremely welcome. For two weeks after the quake, meals were prepared by the Relief Society sisters in the stake and transported over long distances to Coalinga.
Even more important than the food was the emotional support and closeness derived from ward and stake members coming together to talk and share concerns. “Coalinga is about the farthest ward from the stake center,” explained Sister Millie Netherton. “We used to see these people at meetings and work with them, but we didn’t really know them very well. Now we fall into each other’s arms we’re so glad to see each other.”

Paul’s counsel, “Be thou an example of the believers,” applies equally to members. Most have not been and may never be full-time missionaries. But all can be member missionaries. That statement reminds me of a report of a humorous event. On a large playing field at a missionary training center, a sign was posted. It read, “Missionaries Only!” People who also wanted to play on that field posted a new sign of their own. Their sign read, “Every Member a Missionary!”

Great-grandmother Kathryn Greta Calder was called to serve a mission in California in 1920. Following her example, her daughter, granddaughters, and now great-granddaughters have also served missions. As we watch our children open mission calls, and as you watch your friends and families open theirs, we see the image of God in a person who is willing to follow in the footsteps of the Savior, to sacrifice for the salvation of His children. They have the faith and the courage to go wherever the Lord calls them.

I found $20 on the floor of my classroom. I thought of all the things I could buy with $20, but then I remembered a story in the Friend about a boy who found a wallet at recess and turned it in to the lost and found. I gave the money to my teacher, and she gave me candy for being honest. The best part was the feeling I had inside. It was the Holy Ghost telling me I did the right thing. I know the Church is true, and I always want to be honest so I can be a missionary someday.

When Sophie was too sick to go to Primary, she and her mom made the living room into a pretend Primary room. See if you can find the things that are the same in both pictures.
Illustrations by Scott Peck

Isaac bounced up and down in his seat. He looked out the car window. They were going to visit Grandma and Grandpa. They were going to see something else special too.
“When will we see the new temple?” Isaac asked Mom.
“Tomorrow,” she said.
Isaac smiled.
Finally Isaac and his family were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
The next morning, Isaac got dressed in his Sunday clothes. It felt funny to wear his tie in the middle of the week. Isaac ate breakfast with his family. Then they drove to the temple open house. They were going to see inside the new temple before it was dedicated.
“I see the temple!” Isaac said. He pointed to the white building with the angel Moroni on top.
There was a Church building next to the temple. Isaac and his family went there first. They watched a video. Someone helped put white covers over their shoes.
Finally it was time to go inside the temple! Isaac walked through the temple doors. His heart felt happy.
Isaac saw lots of paintings on the walls. Some paintings showed people praying. Some paintings showed beautiful plants and animals.
Then Isaac saw a painting he liked best of all. It was a painting of Jesus! Jesus was standing with His arms stretched out.
“It looks like Jesus is opening His arms to me,” Isaac whispered to Dad.
“Jesus always has His arms open for you,” Dad whispered back. “He loves each of us.”
Isaac had a good feeling in his heart. He imagined walking next to Jesus in the temple. He imagined Jesus giving him a hug.
Jesus loves Isaac. And Isaac loves Jesus too!

The sky was a crisp blue the morning I planned to fly out. After weeks of hard work, I had finally earned enough money to take a trip and visit one of my friends in another state. I was a little nervous. This would be my very first flight alone, so I tried to plan the trip down to every last detail, just so I could be sure I wouldn’t forget anything.
I fidgeted excitedly in the passenger seat as my mom drove me to the airport. When she asked when my departure time was, I read it to her off my travel itinerary. Then I took a closer look. The time I had boxed and starred as my departure was actually the arrival time at my destination. My heart sank, and I felt sick. My plane wasn’t getting ready to take off, it was already hundreds of miles away getting ready to land, and I wasn’t on it!
Dejected, I told my mom to just turn around and take me home, but she insisted on taking me to the airport, hoping that I might be able to catch a flight on standby.
I wasn’t very hopeful when I approached the ticket desk agent and explained my dilemma. To my surprise, the woman offered me a space on the next flight out, free of transfer charges. I was overjoyed. There was little I could have done to fix my predicament, but with the help and kindness of others, I was able to continue on my journey. I later found that the blessings didn’t end there.
As I was walking to my gate, I received a phone call from the temp agency I worked for. They offered me the best job opportunity I had received all summer. I happily accepted.
I didn’t think much of the call’s connection to my missed flight until months later when I was actually sitting at the job. It hit me then that the only way I could have possibly accepted the job was by missing my flight. In the past I had learned that calls from this temp agency were one-shot deals. If you answered the phone, the job was yours. If you didn’t answer, the agency would move on. If I had caught my flight that summer morning, I would have been in the air and out of reach when the call came. The job opportunity would have been lost. In the end my seemingly disastrous oversight blessed the rest of my summer.
I know that often, by reflecting on trials we’ve had in the past, we come to see how the Lord is blessing and shaping us, helping us to have the experiences that we need. I’m so grateful that I have been able to see such clear evidence of the Lord blessing and directing my life. If we are patient in our trials, we may ultimately see how they work for our good.

Hello from Mexico! I was excited to get your letter and hear about your birthday coming up. It sounds like you’re a little nervous about leaving Primary. Can I tell you about when I went into Young Women?
I was nervous about leaving Primary too. I was worried that I might not make any friends. I was scared of being one of the youngest girls instead of one of the oldest.
But it all worked out just fine. The bishop interviewed me before my birthday and told me the change would be a good thing. On Sunday, I still felt shy and stayed in the Primary room. Luckily, one of the Young Women leaders found me there. She said, “I thought I would find you here! Come on, it’s time to go to class.”
Sister Diaz welcomed me in opening exercises, and she gave me three books that I’ve come to love: For the Strength of Youth, Young Women Personal Progress, and a journal. As I looked around the room, I realized that I knew some of the girls there from Primary. Some of the girls I didn’t know said hi to me. Soon I felt peace instead of fear.
Things just kept getting better after that. Mutual activities have been special to me because they’ve taught me how to live the gospel and how to help my family and friends. And going to camp each year is so much fun! Now that I’m a Laurel, I hope to finish Personal Progress soon. I can’t wait to wear the Young Women medallion so it can remind me of how much I have grown nearer to my Heavenly Father over the years.
So don’t be fearful, my friend. Spread your wings and fly to Young Women. I promise you won’t be sorry.
Love,
Maribel

Every time I turned around there was something new that I wanted to do. Then my teacher told my class we were supposed to write a book and turn it in. I was reluctant to even try because it seemed enormously boring to me. When I tried, I found that I liked writing, and I had all sorts of ideas to write down on paper. I am absolutely certain that I want to be an author. I wouldn’t even know I liked to write if I hadn’t been forced to do that assignment. My advice to you is to take every opportunity you can get to try new things. Don’t be judgmental before you try it.
Melanie Wise, 12Green River, Wyoming

Neil L. Andersen(34) A man with same-sex attraction remains true to his covenants. A woman who never married focuses on service.

The blue of Lake Winnebago against the green hillsides was the backdrop for the Appleton Wisconsin District youth conference. The conference site was the Olympic training camp just outside of Brothertown, Wisconsin.
Meeting other young members and nonmembers from the area gave the participants a good opportunity to learn and to fellowship. The workshop covered a range of subjects including missionary preparedness, journal writing, dating, self-defense, and outdoor survival. Moving outside, the group enjoyed some lively games of football. That evening the young people were inspired by local speakers and dressed up for a semi-formal dance.
When it was time to leave, a final testimony meeting was held. Besides the young members, several nonmembers bore testimony of the good feelings they had felt during the youth conference.
Scott Czappa summed up the thoughts of the group when he said, “We get recharged to live through the year. We all get together to share our thoughts and bear our testimonies.”

I live where there are a lot of thunderstorms and heavy rain, which can be scary for me. Whenever a storm comes, I immediately grab the Friend magazine and begin reading it to help me feel better. I always feel the Holy Ghost when I read the Friend.
Danielle J., age 11, Virginia, USA