Gospel Story Finder

I knelt by my bed
Listening,
Waiting for a summer storm to strike
With lightning fast answers and a
Quick downpour of wisdom.
But instead, I received a
Comforting sunny day
Full of warmth.

When he was fourteen, Joseph’s family moved to Manchester, New York, where they were soon caught up in the religious excitement of the period. Some of them joined the Presbyterian church, but Joseph could not decide which church was true.
One day he read James 1:5: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given him.” He decided to follow this advice.
It was a spring morning in 1820 when Joseph walked to a woods near his home to ask God which church was true. He later wrote about what happened, saying, “I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
“… When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!” (JS—H 1:16–17.)
When Joseph asked which church he should join, Jesus answered that he should join none of them.
Joseph’s family believed him when he told them what he had seen and heard, but others in the community began to persecute him because he would not deny that he had seen a vision.

In 1967, Elder William Danner and I became two of the first 20 missionaries to serve in Colombia. We had little success until a man named Raúl, being taught by other missionaries, introduced us to the Muñoz family. The Spirit was strong as we taught the family, testifying of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration.
“I know that these young men are telling the truth,” Raúl said. “They have the same priesthood Jesus Christ had. They could go upstairs right now and heal your blind daughter, Margarita.”
Sister Muñoz looked at me and asked, “Is that true?”
A lump rose in my throat. My testimony had never been tested like this before. I knew that such a miracle would require strong faith. My companion and I found out later that eye specialists had told the family that Margarita, who had lost her sight six months before following an accident, would never see again.
“You have the same priesthood as Jesus Christ,” Sister Muñoz said. “My daughter is blind. Let’s go up and heal her.”
I had never witnessed such great faith. She was like the wife of King Lamoni, who told Ammon, “I believe that it shall be according as thou hast said” (Alma 19:9).
Elder Danner anointed Margarita, and I sealed the anointing. To my astonishment, the words that came out of my mouth were not my own: “You will be healed and receive your sight.” I also felt to pronounce other blessings, including that family members would help build the Church in Colombia. Afterward, I wondered if I had made promises that would not be fulfilled.
The next day, the family’s teenage son came running toward us on the street, shouting, “Miracle! Miracle! My sister can see!”
We baptized 13 people that week.
Brother and Sister Muñoz became faithful members of the Church. Their influence, including Brother Muñoz’s work as head of customs in Colombia, helped spread the gospel there. One daughter served a mission; her brother served as a bishop. Margarita retained her sight the rest of her life.
Jesus Christ has said of those who have faith in Him, “In my name they shall open the eyes of the blind” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:69). I know that “all things are possible to him that believeth” in the Savior (Mark 9:23).

Photo illustrations by Cody Bell
Students flooded the hallways going every which way to get to their classes. There were 1,500 students crowded into a high school built for 1,000. Ironically, every time the bell rang I found myself trudging through the masses but feeling completely alone.
As an 11th-grader at a new school, I was growing to hate high school. At the beginning of the year, I had put forth great effort to introduce myself to people and initiate conversations with others. But as the weeks passed, I began to feel invisible. I sat alone in my classes, never spoke, and eventually stopped smiling.
I had been the class president and a cheerleader just the year before at my old school, and my family began to worry as they saw my demeanor change from bubbly and enthusiastic to sad and distressed. My dad would ask, “How was school?” and all I could mutter was, “Fine,” before heading upstairs to my room to cry. Ashamed of my failed attempts at making friends, I lied to my parents, not telling them that instead of eating lunch with my classmates I went and studied in the library by myself.
Toward the end of the school year, I reached my breaking point, surprising myself at the response I gave one day to my dad’s usual question. “I don’t want to go back,” I told him. “I hate my life.” Seeing the hurt and concern on his face only made me feel worse. That night as I got ready for bed, I knelt down and poured out my heart to the Lord, praying longer and harder than I ever had before. Instead of praying that I would find friends at school, I prayed that I would simply find worth and joy in my life again.
The next morning at school I found myself silently praying that I would be comforted. As the bell rang for the first class and the hallways began to fill up, I focused on my prayer. Surprisingly, my nervous anxiety seemed to melt away and was immediately replaced by a sense of calm. It was at that moment, in the midst of the bustling hallway, that I felt closer to the Savior than I ever had before. I felt His arms seemingly wrap around me in a warm embrace of understanding and reassurance.
I turned to the Lord often during the rest of that year, and I continue to rely on Him now. Although I did not have a huge group of friends, I did make several close friends that year—friends that have become some of my best friends in the years since. Looking back, I am grateful for that difficult experience, because it helped make the transition to college an easy one. I learned that the Lord saw me, one of His precious daughters, as having infinite worth. He will always be there to help us through moments of desperation, and we can recognize His presence with us if we pray to feel His loving embrace.

Sometimes the answer literally walks right up to you. When Thomas Francis and his family moved to Ottawa, he needed to make new friends at a new school. He prayed to find good friends. “One day,” said Thomas, “this person in my class comes up to me and says, ‘You want to come and meet my friends?’ Ever since then, we’ve been friends. It helped me a lot.”

Jack had been battling strong currents in that river for a long time. He began one major battle clear back in the third grade. Although it was obvious that he was a bright child, he couldn’t keep up with the other kids in school. “I was diagnosed as having dyslexia,” Jack explained. “That’s a reading disability where your letters sometimes appear to be jumbled up a bit. Sometimes Ds look like Ps and stuff like that. You can still read; it just takes a bit longer.”

It took Jack a lot longer. He was placed in special classes and got a lot of help from specially trained teachers, but he never quite caught up. “The gap between me and the other kids just kept getting wider and wider,” he said. “At times, when the teacher would call on me to read out loud to a class of about 30 kids, it was embarrassing when I couldn’t even sound out the word the.”

But if Jack had trouble reading, there was one thing he excelled in, and that was work. Hard work. At 14 he got a job in a print shop, sweeping and doing various other cleanup chores. After that, choosing to work diligently became easy.

Work provided the reinforcement Jack wasn’t getting in the classroom. “I was behind all my friends at school, but I was doing really well at work, and I started learning about business,” he said. He decided to try his hand at entrepreneurship. With a little training and a lot of inspiration from a concerned teacher at his high school, Jack started a vending business.

“My main thing is gumball machines,” he explains. “I have about 100 in stores—mom-and-pop type stores, where I had to get permission from the owners to put them in. I also have a few pop machines, but I like gumball machines better. It just comes down to how much time you spend on getting new locations as to how much money you make.”

And Jack did make money. Lots of it. He met his material goals of buying his own sports car and just about anything else he wanted. He joined a special school/work program, where he could incorporate his business with his studies. Before he knew it, he had graduated from high school and was out on his own. “I should be happy now,” he thought. But he wasn’t.

Recently my parents moved across the country. Since I am attending college, I could not go with them. I ended up moving into an apartment by myself. At first it was thrilling to be independent, but I started to become bored and lonely. My daily trip to the mailbox was not helping since I was only faced with an ample amount of new bills. In March of 1991, I received a wonderful surprise. My mother had given me a subscription to the New Era. Thanks for the wonderful articles and spiritual uplift at a time when I needed it most.
Karla BertramEdmonton, Alberta, Canada

I want to thank you for “Around Town Down Under” in the October 1982 issue. That article had special meaning for me because that same month I spent two weeks touring Australia. Many of the photographs printed in that article were of places I had been, and I was excited to show my parents the places I had been rather than just tell them about them. I am grateful for this fine magazine because it helps me to live the gospel and prepares me for the future.
Jamie GourleyWest Valley City, Utah

When an airplane leaves an airport, the complete journey has been mapped out. The pilots and crew know where they are going, and they won’t get off course and fail to reach their destination once in 50,000 times, unless weather or mechanical troubles interfere. Now, imagine an airplane with a captain and crew but no flight plan. The engines are started, and the plane moves down the runway. Yet as it begins to climb, the crew doesn’t know whether to turn east or to turn west. If you are on that airplane, you will have almost no chance of arriving at your destination. It is clear to each of us that an airplane crew needs a flight plan.

Tucked away in the Uintah Basin of eastern Utah are several small communities. Jedadiah lives in one of these friendly towns. He is a handsome, blond 11-year-old. Jeddy loves academics and is extremely interested in sports. He is excited to soon be eligible to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. Jeddy’s body cannot do the many things that he would like it to do. The cystic fibrosis that exists in his lungs makes breathing rather difficult.

Amanda, Jeddy’s big sister, is a lovely 16-year-old who displays her love for him in a host of ways. She is a source of comfort when times are difficult. She is his link to school, seeing that assignments are brought home daily. A neighbor said, “Amanda is a real heroine in her family.” She understands the significance of “go, and do thou likewise.” Jeddy only travels to Salt Lake City to go to the hospital. For a special reason he is looking forward to October general conference. It is a family tradition that Grandfather takes his grandsons to Salt Lake for general conference following their 12th birthday. Jeddy can hardly wait; neither can Grandpa.

Your turn, Dan.
“My sister Nicole volunteered at a hospital, and so I just followed after her when I was old enough. I like volunteering. I like helping people.”
“You know,” adds Dan, “how there’s that song ‘Because I Have Been Given Much’? (Hymns, no. 219). Well, I, too, must give. It’s my way of giving, other than tithing. Helping other people and seeing their reactions. It helps to strengthen my testimony to see the expressions on people’s faces when I’m serving them.”
Dan remembers the times when he wishes he could do more than answer phones, sort files, or distribute magazines and water to the hospital’s patients. “There are some people who really look like they are in pain, and there’s nothing I can do about it. What I do is worth it, though. If you can just help one person, that’s great.”

How lucky can you be to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! Here you find choice and wonderful friends. Here you find able and faithful teachers. Here you find opportunities for service. For instance, where else is there any service to compare with being baptized for the dead? You, each of you, may have that opportunity of going to the Lord’s holy house, there to be baptized in behalf of someone who is helpless to go forward in the world beyond without the service you can give. That individual might have been a woman of great power and influence when she was upon the earth. But without the ordinance of baptism she is stopped in her eternal progress. Yours is the opportunity to free her. What an unselfish and wonderful thing this is. You, through a little effort, can become the one to unlock the gate that will permit that individual to move forward on the way of immortality and eternal life. There is not another organization in all the world that offers you this opportunity. It affords the means by which to give the most unselfish kind of service. You will receive no thanks in this life for that which you do in being baptized for the dead. But you will receive a satisfaction in your heart of having done something totally unselfish and much appreciated.7

Our trip was nearly over when the wagons drew up in a long line by the homestead office in Harmony, New Mexico. After the families finished their business inside, they drove away to locate their new home. As our friends left one by one, they called to the rest of us, “See you in church.” We had passed the meetinghouse so we all knew where to go on Sunday.
Our wagon was the last to leave. Mr. Talbot, the officer in charge, went with us to show us our land and then take us to our temporary living quarters. The family in our house had not moved out yet, but an arrangement had been made for us to live in a dugout on a neighbor’s property. With great eagerness we set out on the last dozen miles of our trip to find our new place.
When we first saw the piece of land, I must say it didn’t look like the Garden of Eden I was expecting. Mr. Talbot pointed to a stick with a red rag tied to it. “Your property begins right there at that stake,” he told us, “and extends half a mile east, north, west, then south to make a square.”
“Half a mile, hon,” Papa said to Mama. “That’s four Salt Lake City blocks. Sixteen square blocks in all!”
Papa slowed the horses to a walk as he looked over the piece of land. “Seems pretty level,” he said. “Won’t take any clearing either. Not much here but weeds and cactus.”
“It’s a good piece,” Mr. Talbot said. “Needs a little work is all.”
Papa stopped the wagon and jumped down. He kicked the dirt with his boot, picked up a handful and let it trickle through his fingers. “Good sandy loam for growing things,” he said.
“Here’s the gate and back there’s the house,” Mr. Talbot explained. “It’s not very big. You’ll have to add on. The Evans should be out in a month or so.”
We could see the lone building surrounded by a tangle of weeds. It was just the right size for a playhouse.
“Papa’ll build a new one and let us have that one to play in,” Caroline said to Ed and me.
“Goody!” I squealed and jumped up and down at the thought.
Papa climbed into the wagon and we started off to find the dugout we were going to live in. When we saw it, it looked like a playhouse too. A steep roof sloped down to the ground on two sides. At one end was a door and dirt steps that led down to a room that had been dug out of the ground. A window in the opposite end gave the only light.
“Who are our neighbors?” Papa asked.
“Neighbors?” Mr. Talbot seemed puzzled.
“Up there where the smoke’s coming out of the chimneys,” Papa explained.
I looked in the direction he pointed and saw some more slanty roofs with gray wisps puffing up into the sky.
“Oh,” he laughed. “That’s just some of the old Indians who stayed here when the others moved onto the reservation.”
“How come?” Papa asked.
“They’re pretty old and didn’t want to go, so the new owners let them stay. They won’t bother you any—can hardly move around even.”
“How many are there?”
“Just five. All squaws. Each one has a brave assigned to her, who comes down once a week with supplies.”
“Do they live together?”
“No, each one has a separate house. Just leave them alone. They’re perfectly harmless.”
Ed was looking at me in a way that meant here was a new adventure that needed to be explored, and I was looking back at him as though to say I’d have to think about it first.
We soon unpacked our wagon and Papa hooked up the smokestack of the stove to the chimney, ready for Mama to start cooking. It was hard to believe we were here at last.
Before dinner we knelt down to thank the Lord for our safe arrival at our new home.
(To be continued.)

Stephanie Spann’s grandfather, who received the Winter Olympics torch, passed the torch to Stephanie (see “Spanning the Generations,” page 20). For your activity, talk about your families’ traditions. Then make a “torch” out of tinfoil. For the flame, write on slips of yellow paper traditions you want to pass on. Pass the torch around, placing the yellow papers in it.

“You must remember the blessings you can have by being faithful,” says Marc-André Côté, 15, of Chicoutimi. “You should always keep that goal in mind. When Joseph Smith was discouraged once, the Lord reminded him to remember what he had been promised if he would remain faithful. [See D&C 6:13.] By thinking of the celestial kingdom and exaltation, you can find strength to overcome the struggles in your life.”
Marc should know. For four years he was away from the Church, but about two years ago he kept “asking myself what I was doing with my life. I was searching for something, and I remembered what I had felt in the Church. I felt the Spirit saying to me, ‘Go!’ and so I decided to try it just one time. I had imagined it would be difficult to come back, but it was easy. It was even better than I remembered. I read a lot and studied a lot and really gained a testimony that this is the true church, organized the way the Savior wants it to be.”

When our first grandson was born, the entire family rushed to the hospital. It was an amazing experience for me to see our oldest son, Matthew, holding this precious new baby boy. While standing at the nursery window with our youngest son, Chad, we gazed into the eyes of this new little spirit—so clean, so pure, so recently from heaven. It seemed that all time stood still, and for an instant, we could see the great eternal plan. The sacredness of life was crystal clear, and I whispered to Chad, “Do you understand why it is so important to remain clean and pure?” He responded reverently, “Oh yes, Mom, I get it.”

I recalled an experience I had in January when I heard President Ronald Reagan give his farewell address to the people of this nation. He spoke of what had been achieved during the eight years of his presidency. As he spoke, I wondered what had happened in the Church during those eight years. I asked our record keepers for some statistics. You may be interested in a few highlights.
It so happens that during these same eight years I have served as a Counselor in the First Presidency and have had an opportunity to see the picture of the entire Church worldwide in its many activities and ramifications. Remarkable things have happened during this period. I do not speak in any sense of boasting. Nor do I claim any credit.
Yesterday, Brother Michael Watson, secretary to the First Presidency, presented the 1988 statistical report of the Church. Let me draw on that for a moment, using some comparisons.
At the beginning of 1981, the membership of the Church stood at 4,600,000. At the close of 1988, the membership had reached 6,720,000, an increase of over two million from January 1, 1981, to January 1, 1989. The number of stakes increased during that period from 1,218 to 1,707, or approximately 500. The number of congregations increased from 12,591 to 16,558, or approximately 4,000 new wards and branches. The number of missions grew from 188 to 222. The number of political entities—nations or territories—in which we are working grew from 83 to 125. The number of temples more than doubled, from 19 to 41.
These are only statistics, but behind all of them are men and women, boys and girls. We are speaking of sons and daughters of God into whose lives has come greater knowledge and into whose hearts has come increased faith in the things of eternity. There has likewise been greatly increased consecration and dedication.
At the close of 1988, there were 36,132 missionaries in the field or under call. There were likewise thousands of volunteers serving in the Family History program, working in various Church offices, and teaching in our seminary system. The value of their consecrated time would run into the tens of millions of dollars.

I was reading older copies of the Friend magazine and read “Go and Do” (Feb. 2020). It inspired me to draw pictures for children in the hospital.
Betty H., age 8, Indiana, USA

“Mom, Jimmy took my crayons again and broke one.” Janie bolted into the kitchen, where Mom was loading the dishwasher, and angrily stamped her foot. “I wish I didn’t have a little brother!”
“Now, honey, I know you’re upset. But is that the way to talk? I’m sure that Jimmy didn’t mean to break your crayon.”
“But I told him to leave my things alone, and he took them, anyway. I already warned him, Mom. Now I’m going to break one of his toys!”
Janie’s mom pulled out a chair for her daughter. “Let’s talk about this first. What do you think the Savior would do?”
Last week in Primary, Janie had learned that Jesus Christ told people to forgive one another and to be kind to those who hurt you. She sat down and folded her arms defiantly. “Well, He said to forgive someone who does something mean to you. I already did that. I forgave Jimmy for getting into my stuff and told him to keep out of my room forever. He didn’t Mom. He’s wrecking all my stuff, and now he has to learn a lesson.”
“Let’s get out the scriptures and see exactly what Jesus said about forgiveness.” Mom left the kitchen a moment and returned with a Bible. She thumbed through the pages, then handed the Bible to Janie, indicating a verse highlighted in yellow. “Here it is.”
Quietly Janie read the scripture, then said aloud, “It says to forgive seventy times seven. That’s way too many times. It isn’t fair at all.” Janie handed the Bible back to her mom.
“Wouldn’t you want the Savior to forgive you more than once? Think about it.” Mom put the Bible down. “Maybe you could try teaching Jimmy how to take care of things. Jesus Christ said to do good to those who offend you—even your enemies.”
Slowly Janie stood. OK, she thought. I’ll forgive him seventy times seven. But then he’s really going to get it! She went to her bedroom and sat down at her desk. On a piece of scratch paper, she multiplied seventy times seven. “Four hundred and ninety times!” she exclaimed, dismayed. She opened a notebook and wrote “Number of times I’ve forgiven Jimmy” on the top of the first page. Underneath, she made two slashes. “That’s two,” she said aloud. “Only four hundred and eighty-eight to go.”
Later that evening she found Jimmy looking at one of her favorite books. He wasn’t being very careful and had ripped a page while turning it. Angry, Janie grabbed the book and glared at him. Jimmy scuttled backward, fear in his eyes. “Don’t hit me, Janie,” he pleaded.
Remembering her resolve to forgive Jimmy, she gritted her teeth and said, “I’m not going to hit you, even though you took my book without asking.” Then, remembering she was supposed to do something nice, she added, “Do you want me to read it to you?”
Jimmy was astonished, but he smiled happily. “Oh, yes!”
After reading the book to Jimmy, Janie didn’t feel so angry. In fact, she decided to read it to him again because he seemed to enjoy it so much. Before she went to bed that night, she got out the notebook and made another slash. “That’s three,” she said.
The next day Jimmy was an even bigger pest than usual. But instead of acting in anger, Janie always did something nice for her brother and tried to teach him the right way to do things. When she got out her notebook that night before bed, she made eight more slashes. “That’s eleven,” she sighed. “Only four hundred and seventy-nine to go.”
“Jimmy! Get off my bike!” Janie shrieked the next morning. Jimmy was so startled that he toppled over onto the driveway. He was just learning how to ride a two-wheeler and wasn’t very good yet.
“You’re supposed to be riding my old bike,” Janie said, helping him up. “Why are you using my new birthday bike?”
“I can’t go very fast on that old squeaky bike,” Jimmy whined. “Please don’t be mad at me. I was trying not to hurt it.”
Janie sighed and dusted her brother off. “Well, my new bike won’t do you much good. It’s so big that you can’t reach the pedals if you sit on the seat. Let’s see if Dad can oil the other one.”
The old bike was soon oiled, and Janie and Jimmy rode together around the neighborhood.
After dinner, Janie told Jimmy, “I’m drawing a picture for Grandma. Do you want to draw one with me?” Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. I might as well ask him, Janie thought. He’d just get into my crayons, anyway.
It was Friday night, so Janie was allowed to stay up later. Her friend Kacey came over, and they played with dolls for a while. Then they decided to play a board game. Jimmy asked if he could play with them. Before Janie could answer, Mom said, “It’s time for bed, Jimmy.”
“Aw, Mom,” Jimmy complained. “It isn’t fair. I want to play too.” Frustrated, he jumped to his feet, accidentally knocking the game over.
“Jimmy,” Mom told him, “you need to apologize to your sister.”
“It’s OK, Mom,” Janie said. “He didn’t mean to.” Turning to Jimmy, she asked, “How about if Kacey and I read you a story before you go to bed?”
Happily Jimmy agreed. He listened to the story, then hugged his sister, waved good night to Kacey, and went to bed without a fuss.
Saturday was cleaning day. While organizing her desk, Janie picked up her notebook and stared at it thoughtfully. Finally she opened it and ripped out a page.
Later, as Mom picked up the trash from the bedrooms, the word Jimmy caught her eye. Curious, she took the paper from the wastepaper basket and smoothed it out. “Number of times I’ve forgiven Jimmy,” it said. A couple dozen slashes were underneath.
Just then, Janie walked into the room and saw Mom looking at the wrinkled page. Smiling sheepishly at her mother, she said, “I guess I don’t need that anymore. It’s funny, but Jimmy doesn’t seem as annoying as he used to.”

It all began as a challenge issued by the Young Women to the Young Men. The event was collecting wood as a service project for the widows and needy of the Kanab Second Ward, Kanab Utah Stake. The Laurels claimed that the Young Women could haul more wood than the Young Men. The challenge was accepted, and rules and a date were set for what was dubbed the Wood Run.

The rules stated that each team could have as many class members, friends, advisers, or parents as they could muster, but each team could use only three chain saws at any given time. The winner would be the team that could return to the designated place first with four cords of wood.

On the appointed day, the two teams headed for the Kaibab Mountain. The Young Women arrived at the finish line with their four cords of firewood. Finding no Young Men or loaded wood in sight, they returned to their cutting area and began filling other trucks and trailers with wood. About 15 minutes later, the Young Men showed up, fully expecting to be the undisputed champions. Instead they found the Young Women’s wood at the finish line. After the shock wore off, the losing team joined in the spirit of the service project and helped the winners finish filling every available truck and trailer with wood. The group cut 16 cords of firewood to be used as winter fuel by those in need in their ward.

As one young man said, “We provided a much needed service, and we had a great time doing it.”