Gospel Story Finder

It was 40 years ago this conference time when President David O. McKay called me to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. At the first meeting of the Presidency and Twelve which I attended where the sacrament was served, President McKay announced, “Before we partake of the sacrament, I would like to ask our newest member of this body, Brother Monson, if he would instruct the First Presidency and Twelve on the atoning sacrifice of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.” It was then that I gained a true understanding of the old adage: “When the time for decision arrives, the time for preparation is past.” It was also the time to remember the counsel found in 1 Peter: “Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you.”

The memory of that particular experience with the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve has not dimmed in the intervening 40 years.

President Spencer W. Kimball will celebrate his eighty-fourth birthday on March 28.
Last year he helped the town of Snowflake, Arizona, celebrate its 100th birthday. Everyone took care to make Snowflake shiny and clean. Primary children planted flowers in honor of his visit and made a carpet of flowers for him. Many other children in the area also came to see President Kimball.
He paid tribute to the pioneers and talked about Brigham Young who sent them to Arizona 100 years ago. “As the successor of the man who sent you here, I am proud of you,” he said. “I am pleased to be with you. Little did I think when I was on my milk stool as a boy in Thatcher, Arizona, that I would be here celebrating with you today.”
Happy birthday, President Kimball. We hope you live to be 100, too!

The story is told of the first two marines ever—in the American revolutionary war. One boarded a ship mere minutes ahead of the other. When the second man came on board, all enthused about being a marine, the earlier arrival scornfully said, “You should have been here in the old outfit!”

The centerpiece of the Tabernacle Choir’s trip to Israel was the performance of the Berlioz Requiem Mass opus 5 with the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra during its Liturgica 92 concert series. This series, held in December and January each year, features performances of significant Christian choral or orchestral works.
Throughout the Tabernacle Choir’s tour, audience reactions were the best indication of the success of the tour. Israel is a country of many musicians, but it is common knowledge that the nation’s sophisticated and educated audiences typically leave immediately after a concert. Following the Berlioz Requiem, the audience reacted to the sheer power and energy of this great music with applause in unison—the call for an encore—for more than five minutes.

As a ten-year-old boy consumed with curiosity, I sat on the floor in my parents’ bedroom one day and rummaged through the bottom drawer of father’s dresser. I came across an old book bound in black, with double columns of print on every page—rather like a Bible. But it wasn’t a Bible. I had seen the Bible often enough in school to know that.
I looked through some of the pages. On several of them the verses had been outlined in red crayon. I read some of these marked passages. One in particular struck me. It read:
“Now the heads of the Lamanites were shorn; and they were naked, save it were skin which was girded about their loins, and also their armor, which was girded about them, and their bows, and their arrows, and their stones, and their slings, and so forth.
“And the skins of the Lamanites were dark, according to the mark which was set upon their fathers.” (Alma 3:5–6.)
Indians! I thought. Those are American Indians! The passage seemed to enter with great force into my mind. I reread it and pondered it; and then I read a few more passages from the book. After a while I heard my brother calling, so I replaced the book carefully in the drawer—and forgot about it for the next twelve years.

We arrived in Cochabamba amidst more chaos from the revolution. We found a market filled with tents, where a kind fellow Peruvian let us wash up and then store our suitcases while we went to the bus terminal. Using our same plea, we made it standby onto another bus and arrived days later in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, near the Brazilian border. For three mornings, I went to the train station to ask if there would be any departures. The answer was always no. But on the fourth day, news spread that a train would be leaving soon for Brazil.

By this point, we were running out of money. I shared my concerns with my wife, who ?rmly replied, “Even if we have to arrive by foot or on the back of a donkey, we’re going to make it.” Her reply made me happy. I wasn’t unsettled about money for the rest of the trip because our confidence was placed in our faith.

As we talked, an old lady walked toward us. She stopped in front of my wife and said, “Young lady, wouldn’t you like two tickets for today?” My wife practically ripped the tickets out of her hand. I paid the old woman, and she vanished among the crowd. It took us a few seconds to realize that the Lord and His angels were still by our side.

Teresa was blessed to have a relationship with a fine returned missionary who promised marriage. These two loved each other in all the right ways. They planned to go to the temple. They qualified for this and they were anxious, but there was a snag in their plans. Teresa’s father hadn’t been active in the Church, so he didn’t have a temple recommend. She loved her father, the way girls do, and wanted him there when she was married. Through her love and encouragement, her tireless, tender conversations and prayers with him, her father finally came around.
I happened to be seated next to him at Teresa’s wedding in the temple. When the ceremony was over, Teresa turned at once to put her arms around her father, and with tears streaming, she whispered in his ear, “Oh, daddy, my daddy, my beloved first sweetheart. Thank you! Thank you!”
And her father, emotionally touched, replied, “Oh thank you, little girl. Thank you!”
Teresa was a voice of love!

I have to wear glasses. One day when it was time to go to school, I could not find them. I looked for them and looked for them and had to go to school without them. Days passed, and it was Saturday night. I looked for them, as usual, but still could not find them. So I prayed. And I found them.
Mariah Mertlich, age 7Puyallup, Washington

It all started when my best friend, Heather, invited me to go to girls’ camp with her. Even though I was a stranger, I felt as if I belonged. The last night, during the bearing of testimonies, I got up in front of over a hundred girls and told them I wanted to learn more about the Church.

I was invited to attend the Strengthening Families Conference 2023, at Abuja, Nigeria by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I got the invitation, I was both skeptical and apprehensive. What has the Anglican Church got to do with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, let along attend their conference for three days? The one who invited me encouraged, persuaded, and pleaded with me to attend.
I finally attended with one eye closed and the other opened: very apprehensive and nervous.
I must confess that I was parochial in my thinking and outlook. The introductory address knocked me down as scales fell off my eyes to see and reason well with respect to my own marriage. It was evidently clear from the conference that marital issues do not have denominational and religious colors. The principles for a good marriage are almost the same in all places.
Interestingly, the chairman for the conference was a Muslim, with speakers from various religious and denominational backgrounds and professions.
Like the confession of the Queen of Sheba when she visited King Solomon, “I believed not the words, until I came, and mine eyes had seen it: and, behold, the half was not told me” (1 Kings 10:7). It was my confession, too!
I thank God for the opportunity I had to be part of the 2023 Strengthening Families Conference. I recommend the program to one and all.

Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles recently told members and missionaries in Europe that they live and work among “fine people who need the values and teachings of the gospel, and when they are taught well, they will embrace its truths.”
Aware that some missionaries serving in Europe fear they are not likely to baptize, Elder Ballard declared, “With faith and courage, we can find those who will embrace the gospel. No missionary should go with any preconceived notion that teaching and baptizing are beyond the realm of possibility. … They should go into the mission field believing they can build the Church.”
During a visit that began on August 17, 2006, Elder Ballard conducted seminars with the 50 mission presidents from the Europe West, Europe East, and Europe Central Areas, challenging the notion that Europeans won’t join the Church. Seminars were held in Birmingham, England; St. Petersburg, Russia; and Dresden, Germany. He also addressed many missionaries and members in these areas, as well as other members meeting in Ukraine, Armenia, and Switzerland.
“Members need to draw close to full-time missionaries and learn ways to share the gospel with more people,” he said. “Members should encourage missionaries to go with faith, knowing they can find the honest in heart, to teach and baptize them.”
Accompanying Elder Ballard were Elder Earl C. Tingey of the Presidency of the Seventy and Elder Jon M. Huntsman Sr., Area Seventy. Elder Dennis B. Neuenschwander of the Seventy also accompanied Elder Ballard in the Europe East Area.
“Missionaries are working hard,” said Elder Tingey. “They are well schooled. They are teaching and serving as directed in Preach My Gospel. New members are grasping their religion, as demonstrated by traveling long distances to attend the member meetings.”

One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos family joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father that if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you promise something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.

Thus, whenever we are tempted to make eternal life our hope instead of our determination, we might think of a building I saw recently.

I was in Boston, Massachusetts. For a little nostalgia, I walked up to the front of the boardinghouse I was living in when I met Kathleen, who is now my wife. That was a long time ago, so I expected to find the house in a dilapidated condition. But to my surprise, it was freshly painted and much renovated. I recalled the wonderful deal the owners gave their student renters. I had my own large room and bath, furniture and sheets provided, maid service, six big breakfasts and five wonderful dinners a week, all for a very minimal cost per week. More than that, the meals were ample and prepared with such skill that, with some affection, we called our landlady “Ma Soper.” I now realize that I didn’t thank Mrs. Soper often enough, nor Mr. Soper and their daughter, since it must have been some burden to have 12 single men to dinner every weeknight.

Now, this old boardinghouse could have the most spacious rooms, the best service, and the finest boarders, but we wouldn’t want to live there for more than a short while. It could be beautiful beyond our power to imagine, but still we wouldn’t want to live there forever, single, if we have even the dimmest memory or the faintest vision of a family with beloved parents and children like the one from which we came to this earth and the one which is our destiny to form and to live in forever. There is only one place in heaven where there will be families—the highest degree of the celestial kingdom. That is where we will want to be.

When I was a young boy, two Primary teachers had a great influence on me. The first was Sister Wedtstein. She remained interested in us and our activities long after we left her class. As long as we were in the same stake, she stayed in touch.
The second was Sister Baker. Besides spending time in the classroom, we had a lot of activities. We went on hikes, had campfires, and roasted hot dogs. Her husband owned an airplane, and we often went to the airport to watch him take off. I still have pictures of those times, and they always bring back wonderful memories.
As I think about Sister Wedtstein and Sister Baker, I don’t remember in detail what they taught us. But I remember the deep love they had for us and the great respect we had for them in return.

My brothers and sisters, let me tell you of a recent experience. We were in the city of Bacolod on the island of Negros, in the Republic of the Philippines. There, to my great surprise, I met a man I had not seen in years.
The weather was steamy hot, as it always is in Bacolod, the center of the once thriving Filipino sugar industry. My friend was in a short-sleeved white shirt with dark trousers, his shoes shined. His beautiful wife, Marva, was beside him. I said, “Victor Jex, what are you doing here?”
He smiled and replied, “We’re doing the Lord’s work. We’re helping the people. We’re missionaries.”
“Where do you live?”
“In a little house in IloIlo on the island of Panay. We came over on the ferry for the conference.”
I thought of when I had last seen them. It was a few years ago. They then lived in a beautiful home in Scarsdale, New York. He was a widely recognized and honored chemist, with a doctorate in chemical engineering. He worked for one of the big multinational companies headquartered in New York. He was credited with putting together the chemical ingredients of a product now sold around the world, the name of which is known to millions of people and the profit from which has run into many millions of dollars for his company.
He was well paid and highly respected.
He was also the president of the Yorktown stake of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He had under his direction a corps of church workers who served faithfully in their local wards, many of whom commuted each day to and from New York City, where they held high and responsible positions in some of the great corporations of America. He was their church leader.
Now he was retired. He and his wife had sold their beautiful home, had given their children what furniture they wanted, and donated the rest to others. They had disposed of their cars and everything except their clothing, their family photographs, and their family history records. They had made themselves available to the Lord and His Church to go wherever they might be sent at their own expense. They were now in the Philippines Bacolod Mission, working among the wonderful, friendly, brown-skinned people of the area. Unemployment is high in this region, and there is much of misery. But wherever Elder and Sister Jex go, they touch for good the lives of those among whom they serve.
They are there to heal the suffering people, to teach the gospel of Christ, to give encouragement and strength and hope and faith. They are there to heal wounds of misunderstanding and contention. They are there to bless the sick and to help those with diseased bodies and frustrated minds. Their smile is infectious, their laugh a joy to hear. They are living humbly among the poor, down at the level of the people, but standing straight and tall to lift with strong hands.
This former New York executive and his charming companion are in the service of the Savior, giving their full time, their resources, and their love to bless with healing the lives of many who are discouraged and need help. Here is a retired New Yorker, a man of great learning and recognized capacity, living in a home with few conveniences, a simple little place that would fit in the living room of his former house.
He and his wife are there, with others of their kind. They are two of a band of remarkable and dedicated older missionary couples who minister to the wants of people with numerous problems. They receive no financial compensation. They pay their own way. This world’s goods mean little to them. As I said, they sold all they had when they left to come to the Philippines. They will stay for as long as they are assigned by the Church to do so. Then they want to go on another mission. They are healers among the people, serving in the cause of the Master Healer.

Like a gardener
with a green thumb,
You made me grow;
You planted me in good soil;
You watered me when I was thirsty
and fed me with Thy love.
Even though I made
mistakes,
and grew
lopsidedly,
You gave me support.
And when it was
harvest time,
You rejoiced,
even though all I had to offer was
humble fruit.
Thank you, Father.

We always enjoy the articles in the New Era. They bring an extra lift to our missionary life. We thought “A Merry Missionary Christmas” in the December issue was just splendid. As we looked at the pictures of missionaries, the loneliness left our hearts. We knew there were 26,000 other missionaries serving the Lord and sharing this great message with others throughout the world during this season. The mission field is one of the greatest places to be for Christmas, and we’re happy we were able to have at least one Christmas in our lives here.
Sister Eileen McGarvy, Sister Carol Lee ChristensenIllinois Chicago Mission

As a little boy during the Second World War, my country had been invaded; danger was all around us. My mother taught me a great lesson of trust and unity that I have never forgotten. She alerted me to the perils of war and simply said: “Trust my word and follow me; listen to my voice. If you do so, I will protect you the best I know how.” I simply listened to my mother because I loved her and trusted her.

A little later, school started, and this, for me, was a new bridge to cross. As a preparation for this new experience in my life, leaving the home, my mother told me to listen to my teacher and to be obedient. Again, I trusted my mother’s advice. I decided to be obedient to my teacher and a new code of rules. School therefore became a bridge of knowledge instead of a wall of ignorance.

That lesson of trust and unity was vital to become one with my parents, family members, and teachers. It allowed me later to become one with my Savior by being baptized into His Church. It reminded me as a husband, father, and grandfather to continue to build trust and unity among our family members by keeping the temple covenants. As President Hinckley has stated: “The temple is concerned with things of immortality. It is a bridge between this life and the next” (Stand a Little Taller [2001], 6).

Erin stood on Temple Square in Salt Lake City looking at life-sized statues of the nativity scene and waiting for the music and story to begin. Christmas lights twinkled all around her. But it didn’t feel like Christmastime.
“Are you all right?” Mom asked her.
Erin nodded, but she wasn’t so sure.
Only a few days ago, a boy from Erin’s class at school had died in a car accident. She had seen a lot of people crying at the funeral, and she had cried a lot herself. She hadn’t known the boy that well, but Erin knew his family loved him as much as her family loved her. She felt scared to know that something like that could happen to someone her age.
Now she didn’t feel excited for Christmas. She felt worried all the time—scared to get in a car, scared to be apart from her parents, scared to leave her house in case something bad happened to her while she was away. All the Christmas lights on Temple Square couldn’t erase the worried feeling inside her. How could she be happy in a world where she wasn’t always safe?
“It’s about to start,” Dad said. He pointed to the nativity scene.
The loudspeakers crackled to life, and a voice began speaking. Music played, and spotlights shone down on statues of shepherds, Wise Men, Mary, and Joseph. Erin listened to the familiar story. The baby Jesus was born and laid in a manger. Angels sang. Shepherds worshipped. Wise Men rejoiced.
Erin looked at the faces of her parents and the crowd gathered around the nativity scene. They all seemed happy. But why was everyone so happy about the baby Jesus if His birth didn’t stop bad things from happening? Erin didn’t like the question circling through her head. All she wanted was to stop feeling afraid.
The story ended, and a recording of the prophet’s voice came over the loudspeaker. He bore his testimony and read a scripture from the Bible: “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22).
Erin’s heart beat faster. She said the words again in her mind, trying to remember them. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.
The scripture said that everyone would die—young people, old people—everyone. Erin knew that, of course, but she hadn’t thought about it much before. She thought she was too young to think about such things. But she wasn’t too young to have a testimony of the truth: because of Jesus Christ, everyone would live again. That’s why the shepherds and Wise Men rejoiced. They understood what Jesus had come to earth to do.
Erin looked from the little stable to a window in the visitors’ center behind the nativity scene. Inside the building a light shone on a large statue of Jesus stretching out His scarred hands. Erin thought about the little baby in the manger and how He grew into someone who had all power. And yet He chose to sacrifice His life for her. He had been born so she could live again. No matter what happened, Erin could feel safe in Jesus’s love.
Peace washed over her. She couldn’t quite explain how, but her worry disappeared. When she looked at the statue of Jesus Christ, shining brighter than twinkling Christmas lights, she barely noticed the dark night sky. She was too busy feeling the warmth of hope flickering inside her.

It was late at night, and the house was dark and quiet. I knelt beside a fold-out camp cot, my bed while visiting at my sister’s house. My arms rested on the rough woolen blanket of the bed, and I closed my eyes, pouring all my effort into a fervent and determined prayer.
I was there because I had to learn the truth. I needed an answer to my prayers.
My search for the truth had begun almost a year before. At that time, I was a senior in high school, active in my own church, and happy with my family and my life. I didn’t know the Lord had greater things in store for me.
My sister and her husband had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They were filled with missionary zeal and had come to visit us, hoping to share the joy they had found. My family and I were not receptive. We were very happy just as we were. But we did agree to accompany them to the Los Angeles Temple Visitors’ Center for a tour.
That was the beginning for me. The story of Joseph Smith and the translation of the Book of Mormon sounded terribly far-fetched, and yet, I thought, “If this is true, what an incredibly wonderful thing!”
So I decided to do a little research. Throughout that year, in my English class, we were assigned to write a series of research essays on a topic of our choice. I decided to compare and contrast my religion with the Latter-day Saint faith. My research included attending several ward meetings, interviewing members of the Church, reading the Book of Mormon, and writing many letters filled with gospel questions to my sister.
Although I was active in my church, I never felt the personal connection with God that the LDS people I met seemed to possess with such ease. As I spoke with them, I realized it was their understanding of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ that gave them such profound faith. I felt not envy but a great desire to believe and understand that what they testified to me was true.
After eight months, my sister invited me to visit her during my Easter vacation. I agreed, and we spent a week baking and laughing, cleaning and visiting, and discussing gospel principles. I didn’t realize it then, but the Spirit dwelt in that house. I was amazed at her ease in answering my questions. No matter what I asked, no matter how complex, she gave me a good understanding of that principle. I felt her love for me, and I felt God’s love for me. I did not know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, but I desperately wanted to know.
So there I was, kneeling on the cold, hard floor, my eyes tightly shut, begging the Lord to answer my prayer, to tell me whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I felt if I could just know that, then everything else would fall into place. It would follow that he translated the Book of Mormon, that he received the revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants, and that he helped establish the Lord’s Church on the earth.
As I prayed, I felt loving arms surround me. I felt great warmth and joy flood my heart. And I heard a voice in my mind say, “Yes, Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.”
I wept for joy as I knelt there, feeling infinitely important to my Heavenly Father, important enough that He would listen to my stumbling, pleading prayer and answer me with such tenderness and compassion.
Grateful for the answer to my prayer and rejoicing in the truth I had found, I decided to be baptized. The only snag was that I had not had lessons from the missionaries yet. I contacted the missionaries, and they came immediately to teach me. The doctrines of the gospel were “as the dew from heaven distilling” (see Hymns, no. 149). I had not known of the Savior’s great love for me. I felt unworthy and began fervently to repent of the things I had said and done and thought that were out of harmony with the Lord’s teachings.
The change was gradual, but after six weeks of learning and praying and striving, I was baptized. I felt such overpowering joy, such purity as I came out of the water, that I knew my sins were forgiven, and I was worthy to be given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Although the night I had prayed so fervently was long ago, because I knelt in faith before the Lord and received an answer from Him, I have a great testimony of prayer and of a loving Father in Heaven, a testimony that our Savior lives and loves us and that the Holy Ghost is always there to guide, strengthen, and comfort all who seek Him.