Gospel Story Finder

Let me share with you a lesson learned in childhood. Our family has owned a summer cabin at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon for five generations. The months of July and August for me meant hiking; fishing; and swimming daily at the swimming hole, featuring a big rock from which we dived, and maneuvering through the swift current which roared by it and formed dangerous whirlpools. Most swimmers would plunge into the icy waters and swim with the current, rapidly passing the big rock, and be eventually carried to the slower waters and the welcome bank of river sand. That is, all but one swimmer. His name was “Beef” Peterson. His swimsuit carried the emblem of “Life Saver,” and his physical body reflected great strength. Beef would, like others, swim rapidly down the current through the whirlpools, then suddenly turn and swim back upstream. For a few feet, his mighty strokes carried him forward, but then the swiftness of the current held him steady as he pitted his strength against that of the river. Gradually Beef would tire, drop back, and then swim effortlessly to the bank, exhausted. Swimming against the current became Beef Peterson’s trademark.

My brothers and sisters, I’m certain our duty and responsibility is frequently to swim upstream and against the tide of temptation and sin. As we do so, our spiritual strength will increase, and we shall be equal to our God-given responsibilities.

Tom was eight and I was six when we saw our first rodeo. We drove to Saskatoon in our Ford truck and fought to sit next to Dad. It was a great journey for Tom and me, like a trip to Alaska—almost.
I don’t remember much of the day, except the ride and the barrel man (a barrel man dresses like a clown and distracts the bulls when the cowboys fall off).
Well, a bull had thrown some cowboy and the barrel man was twisting and dancing, pulling the big bull away from the guy on the ground. Then the bull turned fast, unexpected. The barrel man twisted again, sprinted, then dove into a barrel headfirst just as the bull knocked it across the arena floor.
I could feel the ground shake, even in the stands. There was silence. And then the clown stuck his head out of the barrel and blew the bull a raspberry. We laughed about that all the way home.
The next day the rodeo came to our backyard. “The Bull Rider and the Barrel Man” game was Tom’s idea; and Leonard, our German shepherd, was as good a bull as we could have hoped for. Whoever played the bull rider would lie helpless on the ground as Leonard tried to bite his ears. Meanwhile, the barrel man hopped back and forth trying to distract the “bull.”
Finally, Leonard would take off after the barrel man and the two would race around our old, plastic garbage can until the “bull” got too close. Then the barrel man could dive in.
Tom and I took turns. Leonard could catch me, but not Tom. He was too quick. He was a great barrel man.
Tom even dressed for the part. He would paint his face and wear cutoff jeans and an ugly Hawaiian shirt with big red ferns plastered all over it. He looked like a real barrel man.
The years passed. Tom turned 14, and I was almost 12. Over those years my brother never lost his love of the game. We would play “Bull Rider and the Barrel Man” all summer, along with the rest of our summertime activities. Some nights we’d play well past dark, when the yellow glow of the porch light made us all look bigger than we really were.
“Getting late,” Tom said one summer evening, a Saturday. Leonard was asleep at our feet and dusk was approaching quickly. Behind us our shadows faded all the way to the house.
“You’re getting slower,” I said. “I mean, he almost got you that time.”
“Ahhhh,” Tom said, smiling. “I saved your life at least a dozen times today.” The red mud we have in Saskatchewan caked Tom’s face. It looked like barn paint had spilled and dried on him and his clown clothes.
“Church tomorrow,” I said. Tom nodded.
We looked out onto the prairie and didn’t say anything for a while. The wheat fields stretched unbroken to the start of the dark blue sky and I daydreamed. I thought about the prairie, how it could have been a lonely place if I didn’t have a brother like Tom.
“One day I’m gonna be in the rodeo,” said Tom. “Be a real barrel man.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
Tom shifted from one leg to the other, then back again. He started rocking. He was always moving.
“We should ride over to the creek tomorrow,” Tom said. “And fish and stuff.” It was a strange thing to say. We never did anything like that on Sunday.
“Sure,” I said, though I really wasn’t too sure.
Tom brought his hand down on the side of his jeans, making a loud slap. “Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed. “Maybe we can go early and catch us a tasty catfish.”
“Yeah,” I laughed.
Then I waited for Tom to say something else, but he didn’t. I didn’t know what Tom was thinking. Mom and Dad wouldn’t like the idea of us taking off, missing church, breaking the Sabbath. I hoped he’d forget the whole thing by morning.
Tom’s voice woke me the next morning. I looked over and Mom was feeling his forehead while he moaned and made a series of pitiful faces.
“Stomachache,” he growled.
“I’ll stay home with you,” said Mom.
“No, that’s okay.” He quickly added, “I don’t want you to miss church, Mom.”
She felt Tom’s forehead again and shook her head. “No fever. I’ll get you some cereal.” She left for the kitchen and Tom leaned close to me.
“Tell her you need to stay home too,” he whispered.
“I don’t want to lie,” I said, as Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t mind going to church. We can ride over to the creek tomorrow.”
“Don’t be a baby.” Tom was getting mad. “Tell her you’ve got the same thing or, um, or I’ll never talk to you again.”
Mom came back in with Tom’s breakfast.
“You’d better get yourself something,” she said to me. I didn’t say anything. I just sat frozen in my bed, looking at my feet.
Tom spoke up. “I don’t think he feels good either.”
“Your stomach hurts too?” Mom asked. I looked at her and saw the concern on her face. I wasn’t looking at Tom, but I felt his eyes on me. I didn’t want to make Tom mad at me, but I didn’t want to lie. And though I’d never thought about it before, I didn’t really want to miss church.
“Nah, I’m okay. I think I can go.”
Tom wouldn’t talk to me when we left, but as I walked by our room he mouthed the word “Baby.”
Tom didn’t say anything to me for three days. He left early in the morning and stayed at a friend’s house until dark. At supper, he wouldn’t look up from his food or talk to anyone. I’d never seen Tom that quiet. Usually he was a comic, full of life and words.
After breakfast and chores Thursday I climbed into our private den above the barn. Earlier that summer Tom and I had painted the walls with some leftover yellow paint and made our own furniture out of the paint cans and some broken fence boards. In the rafters there were a dozen sparrow nests. Dad said we could clean out the nests, but we left them alone. It was their room first. And they were part of what made it a great room.
Outside the wind was blowing across the endless brown prairie. It was whining through the cracks in the walls, stirring dust bowls on the floor. I was alone, and I felt that loneliness swelling in me. I choked on a sob and shook my head.
“No blubbering,” I whispered, and picked up our half-finished U.S.S. Lexington model from the table. Tom and I hadn’t gotten around to putting in the bridge yet.
“That’s mine,” said Tom. I spun around. Tom stood in the doorway.
“It’s mine too,” I said.
Tom slumped down on one of our paint-can chairs. “Ah, you can have it.”
I put the model down and looked up at the sparrows. “Ain’t you going out today?” I asked. Tom didn’t answer. “We could go to the creek if you want.”
“Nah,” he said.
I looked at him. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “Ever since Sunday you act like I gave you a wormy apple.”
Tom couldn’t help smiling; it was, after all, one of his funny lines. “Weirdo,” he said. Then he put his mean face back on. “Why’d you weasel out of skipping church?”
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t feel good about it.”
“Nobody has a right to plan something then weasel out,” Tom said.
“Yeah, I guess I did do that. I should’ve told you before that I didn’t want to skip church.”
Tom nodded. “I don’t know. I guess I understand. I mean, I sort of missed it. Priesthood and even Sunday School. I probably shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for going.”
Leonard started barking in the driveway and I looked out. “The bull wants to play,” I said.
“The Bull Rider and the Barrel Man,” Tom said. “That’s what church is like.”
“Huh?”
“Going to church. It’s like when I play Barrel Man. I have the barrel to jump into if the bull is gonna get me. I know it’s dumb, but going to church is kind of like that. Every week you go to church, you get protection. You do something you know is right, and then you feel good. If you don’t do it, you feel bad and take it out on everyone else. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I think so. If you don’t jump into the barrel you get mad at your brother.”
Tom laughed. “Right.” He got up and started to pace back and forth in front of me. “Sorry I’ve been a jerk to you,” he said.
“Forget it. You getting happier yet?”
He grinned. “Yeah. I’m feeling better now.”
He made a few more turns up and down the den floor, pacing faster and faster each time. Finally he said, “You look like you could use a bull ride, Shorty.” And then he grabbed me in a head lock and we spun around. The old Tom was back. He pushed me aside and bounded down the steps three at a time. I could hear his “Ha, ha, ha” from the yard, and I ran to the window. He was in the driveway, flipping Leonard’s ears. Then they took off, chasing in a complete circle around the barn.
They made a pass below me, still running hard. Leonard was barking, and Tom was laughing his usual, annoying laugh. “Ha, ha, ha, let’s go, bull rider!”
Beyond the noise and excitement below, beyond the driveway and the fence line, I looked to the wheat fields that seemed to stretch forever. I thought about the prairie, and how it could be a lonely place if I didn’t have a brother like Tom.

Keeping a journal is not easy. We often tell ourselves that we are too busy or too tired or that our lives aren’t exciting enough to write about. I realized a few years ago that journal-keeping wasn’t meant to be hard and that I could grow to love it.
I began by writing one thing a day. It didn’t matter if it was really long or exciting; I just wrote whatever was on my mind or whatever had happened that day. It has already blessed my life.
One day someone in my family was struggling and I wasn’t sure what to say to her, but then I was prompted to read her one of my journal entries. I was able to share a little piece of me that I had recorded in that little black journal, and I saw the way that it helped lighten her heart. (See lds.org/go/rememberNE10.)
I guarantee if you will start by writing one thing down a day, it will bless your life. No matter how small or how big, writing down the blessings in your life can help you to remember them.
Gentry W., Utah, USA

A few years ago my rugby team participated in a weeklong tournament. This meant seven days away from home, parents, and Church leaders. Because we attend a Church school, everyone on my team was a member of the Church. Almost every evening that week, the other teams in our hotel would party in their rooms with loud music, dancing, drinking, smoking, and screaming harsh words at each other. Our team gathered in a room for our tradition of scripture study and evening devotionals. It felt good to do the right thing without being instructed by our parents. After the other teams observed us with surprise, we gained their respect. They were silent when they knew we were having evening devotionals. They seemed to be interested in what we were doing, and some even joined with us to read the scriptures and pray together.

We didn’t win the tournament that week, but we won in another way. We were able to shine our light, and through our examples, change hearts and minds.
Elisara E., 20, Samoa

Another potential destroyer of spiritual roots—accelerated by current technology but not unique to it—is the keyhole view of the gospel or the Church. This limited view focuses on a particular doctrine or practice or perceived deficiency in a leader and ignores the grand panorama of the gospel plan and the personal and communal fruits of its harvest. President Gordon B. Hinckley gave a vivid description of one aspect of this keyhole view. He told a BYU audience about political commentators “aflame with indignation” at a then-recent news event. “With studied art they poured out the sour vinegar of invective and anger. … Surely,” he concluded, “this is the age and place of the gifted pickle sucker.” In contrast, to be securely rooted in the gospel, we must be moderate and measured in criticism and seek always for the broader view of the majestic work of God.

When President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) introduced the family proclamation at the general Relief Society meeting on September 23, 1995, he said its purpose was to “warn and forewarn”11 the world against deviating from its standards. Since then, the document has been published in many languages, has been repeatedly discussed in general conference, and is displayed in meetinghouses and homes internationally. It is a prophetic proclamation provided by a loving Heavenly Father to give guidance to His children—guidance that was never more needed than it is today.

I want to thank you for a fantastic magazine. Lys over Norge (Norwegian) is beautifully designed. The articles often have lifted me from being spiritually depressed to having a burning desire to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
I was particularly appreciative of the magazine when I served in the military. I was the only Latter-day Saint, and the articles helped lift my spirits and often made me cry tears of joy.
Terje HoelMoss Ward, Oslo Norway Stake

His daughter Claudia says that dedication is another of Elder Abrea’s great strengths. She and Cynthia tell the same story to illustrate the point. Elder Abrea was scheduled to fill a Church assignment out of town the day after his father was buried, and he had to catch a flight out of Buenos Aires shortly after the burial. He was deeply grieved at his father’s passing, and Cynthia asked him why he was going ahead with the trip. He gently reminded her of his father’s admonition always to do his best in Church commitments (an admonition he has passed on to his daughters), and commented that he would be honoring his father by obeying that counsel.

October 30, 1838 Haun’s Mill is attacked by 240 men. At least 17 people are killed.

“When I was baptized in Ammon, a strong feeling of having my sins literally washed away came over me, and I knew that from then on I needed to be more careful in my thoughts and actions.

When I was a newly called deacons quorum president, I wasn’t sure how to increase my spirituality. I started doing family history, usually each Sunday. I have been going to the temple every Saturday morning. My goal was to take male baptism and confirmation names as often as I could. After I went to the temple each week, I would feel a little more spiritual, and that way I was able to help my quorum better.
Josh B., 13, Utah, USA

During the summer, the children often went swimming in the river. A wooden pier came out partway on the deep side of the swimming hole. Those of us who couldn’t swim well would enter the water from the shallow side and play there. One time I thought that I could make it out to the pier. I was wrong. I got out to where I couldn’t touch bottom and started floundering. I remember feeling a hand lifting me up. It may have been one of the older kids, but I can still feel that hand lifting me, and I think that Somebody was watching over me.

I’m grateful for the article “Double Duty” (Nov. 2002). It made me think, “Hey, I need to get going. This girl did it twice, and I’ve finished only one Personal Progress value.”Corinne SandersonAmerican Fork, Utah

Gay-Neck: The Story of a Pigeon The author of this true story says, “I have yet to see creatures more loyal than pigeons and elephants. I have played with both. … My elephant friend was called Kari, … and the other pet … was a pigeon.” Gay-Neck “fought” for the Allies in World War I. This story of his life is a message of courage and love.Dhan Gopal Mukerji10 years and up

How did you meet your best friend? Alexandra W. from California and Katie C. from Oregon met because their grandmas are best friends. Even though their families live far apart, these girls have a lot in common. They are both in second grade, they both love ice cream, and they both have been baptized. Both girls also had a special general conference experience that they will always remember.
Our grandmas decided it would be fun to celebrate our eighth birthdays by going to Salt Lake City for general conference. We explored the Church History Museum. At one exhibit, we helped tie a quilt. We also saw an actor dressed up as the prophet Brigham Young.
There were lots of things to see in Utah! Here we are at This Is the Place Monument, where Brigham Young told the pioneers they had finished their journey across the plains.
The most exciting day of all was Saturday morning. We walked into the Conference Center with thousands of people from all over the world. Our grandmas helped us find our seats. Suddenly everyone in the Conference Center became quiet, and we stood up to show respect as President Monson walked into the room. We saw the prophet of God! We listened to the prophet and General Authorities speak, and we heard the Tabernacle Choir sing.
Did you know that before the Conference Center was built, general conference was held in the Tabernacle on Temple Square? The organ pipes behind us should look familiar—a picture of them is on the front of every green hymnbook!
Now that we are back home again, we like to look back and remember. We remember not only the fun things we saw and did but also the special feelings we had when we heard and saw the prophet of God. We know that we have a Father in Heaven who loves us and that Jesus Christ is our Savior. And that is worth remembering!

While I was serving as stake president, my counselors and I invited a certain brother for an interview where we presented to him his calling to be the president of the stake Young Men organization. This man had not been fully active. He liked to spend his weekends, including Sundays, camping and fishing, and it was reported that he and his wife did not always obey the Word of Wisdom. There was some question as to whether we should consider him for such a position, but because of the prayerful discussions we had held in the presidency and the high council we concluded that he should be called. As we advised this brother of his appointment, he responded that he was not interested and that he did not feel worthy or qualified. We then told him how we had come to choose him over all the members of the stake. We explained that we needed a strong and capable leader of youth in our stake and that both the presidency and the high council had offered earnest prayers, asking the Lord to indicate the person who should fill the position. We said: “The answer was clear. You are the man the Lord has chosen. It is for you to decide, of course, but you do have an obligation to go home and discuss the question with your wife. The only request we make of you is that thereafter you kneel down with her and ask the Lord what he wants you to do.”

Three days later I received an unhappy telephone call from this same man. He reluctantly informed me that he would accept the position with all its implications. He gave powerful service in his calling, and when that assignment was finished, he became a member of the high council, and he has been happy about the gospel ever since.

Walk with me into the home of an Indian family living on the high plains of Bolivia. The husband serves as the branch Sunday School superintendent and his wife is the Primary president. See their six-week-old infant daughter dying of starvation because their meager income of eight dollars a month makes them unable to provide food for their baby when the mother becomes sick and is unable to nurse.

One beautiful night in April 1972, Elders McIntire and Richards knocked on my door. At that time my wife and I were searching for answers to many questions that confused and troubled us.
The powerful testimonies of those two representatives of the Lord deeply touched our souls. A marvelous new feeling filled our hearts. We received our answers.
Our first visit to church helped our testimonies grow because of the Spirit there and the love those people showed us. Their messages and testimonies confirmed that we had found the true Church.
We attended the meetings with respect and reverence, but we postponed baptism because we feared a negative reaction from our families.
During that time, the district of Rio de Janeíro held its quarterly conference. A strong spirit filled the hall. Brother Val Carter, a counselor to the mission president, spoke, declaring his complete dependence on Christ for salvation and exaltation.
A miracle occurred in that moment. The Holy Ghost reconfirmed the truthfulness of the gospel, and our fears vanished. On July 2, 1972, my wife and I and our eldest son, Marcus, entered the fold through the gates of baptism.
Since then, our families and friends have come to respect the Church. My sister Ivette and some of our best friends have accepted baptism.
What made these miracles possible? The testimonies of faithful Saints upon which I was temporarily dependent. They prepared my mind and heart to receive a full confirmation of the Holy Ghost.

The third experience:
“… While holding the office of teacher I went to Missouri in Zion’s Camp. After arriving in Missouri, having gone through many trials and tribulations, and suffering from cholera, which caused us to lay in the grave fifteen of our brethren, we stayed at Brother Lyman Wight’s. While at Lyman Wight’s, I attended council meetings with the Prophet, with David Whitmer, with Oliver Cowdery, and other leading brethren of the Church. David Whitmer was the president of the stake of Zion. Brother Joseph reproved him very sharply, as well as some of the other brethren, because of their lack in fulfilling the commandments of God and doing their duty.
“While at that place I had a great desire in my heart to go and preach the gospel. I went off one Sunday night by myself into a hickory grove, several hundred yards from the settlement, and I asked the Lord to open the door for me that I might go and preach the gospel. I did not want to preach the gospel for any honor I might get on this earth; for I thoroughly understood, as far as a man could in my condition, what a preacher would have to pass through. It was not honor, nor wealth, nor gold, nor silver, that I desired: But I knew this was the gospel of Christ, revealed to me by the power of God; I knew this was the Church of Christ; I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet of God; and I had a desire that I might preach that gospel to the nations of the earth. I asked the Lord to give me that privilege. The Lord answered that prayer, and said I should have my desire granted. I got up rejoicing. I walked about two hundred yards out in the open road; and when I got into the road there stood Judge Higbee. Said he, ‘Brother Woodruff, the Lord has revealed to me that it is your duty to be ordained to go and preach the gospel.’
“Said I, ‘Has he?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Well,’ said I, ‘If the Lord wants me to preach the gospel, I am perfectly willing to go and do that.’ I did not tell him I had been praying for this.
“The consequence was I attended a council at Lyman Wight’s, and was called and ordained to the office of a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, while other brethren were ordained elders. I was called by Bishop Partridge to go to the southern country on a mission. Bishop Partridge asked me a great many questions, and I asked him questions. It was then dangerous for any of our brethren to go through Jackson County [Missouri.] He wanted me to go to Arkansas, and the road led square through Jackson County. I asked him if we should go through there (I had a companion with me—an elder).
“Said he, ‘If you have got faith to do it, you may; I haven’t.’
“I thought that was a curious remark from a bishop.
“‘Well,’ said I, ‘The Lord says we must travel without purse or scrip; shall we do it?’
“Said he, ‘That is the law of God; if you have faith to do it, you can do it.’
“He said he had hardly got faith to go into Jackson County. However, we started and went through Jackson County. We came near losing our lives, and were saved almost by a miracle. We traveled through Arkansas and other parts.
“But I do not want to dwell on these things. I merely wish to say that I went out as a priest, and my companion as an elder, and we traveled thousands of miles, and had many things manifested to us. I desire to impress upon you the fact that it does not make any difference whether a man is a priest or an apostle, if he magnifies his calling. A priest holds the key of the ministering of angels. Never in my life, as an apostle, as a seventy, or as an elder, have I ever had more of the protection of the Lord than while holding the office as a priest. The Lord revealed to me by visions, by revelations, and by the Holy Spirit, many things that lay before me.” (Discourses of Wilford Woodruff, pp. 298–300.)

The April 2010 issue rocked! A friend and I were having some tough times, but then I read this issue and it helped me put life in perspective. We are still good friends, but now our relationship is where it needs to be for us to enjoy our teenage years.
Christopher S., Virginia