Gospel Story Finder

For the Negrido family, helping 13-year-old Yushin prepare for his mission is a family affair. We talked to the young man from Quezon City, and he recounted how his family helps him with the various aspects of mission preparation.
““I go biking at least once a week so if I am assigned to an area where missionaries ride bikes, I won’t have to adjust anymore. My parents also enrolled me in a basketball academy where my agility and strength will be developed, and I will learn teamwork and collaboration with my teammates. We are also a family of divers and mountaineers so we climb and swim, a survival skill that might come in handy since our country is composed of many islands.””

What right does an athlete have to blame lost games on air pollution? Every right, all else being equal, according to a story cited by Dr. James Christensen, professor of chemical engineering. It seems that a group of young track athletes from a high school in Los Angeles won most of their home meets but always lost when they were bussed to a distant school for track events. Reason: scientists determined that by being bussed along the busy freeways in Los Angeles, they breathed in larger than normal amounts of carbon monoxide. This carbon monoxide reacted with the iron in the hemoglobin in their blood to form carboxyhemoglobin. Every hemoglobin molecule that reacted with the carbon monoxide meant one less hemoglobin molecule available to carry oxygen in the body. Consequently, the athletes were hampered by the reduced amount of oxygen supplied to the body and performed below their capabilities!

In Denmark, far out in the country, there once lived a farmer and his wife. Their farm cottage was overgrown with moss, and a stork’s nest perched on its ridge. The walls were crooked, the windows were small, and only one of them could be opened. An oven for baking bread jutted out of one wall. Outside, a hedge of elderberries and willow trees surrounded a tiny pond where a duck and some ducklings swam, and in the yard there was an old dog that barked at everyone who went by.
They did without a lot of things, but they did have a horse that grazed along the edge of the road since they had no paddock for it. Sometimes the farmer rode his horse to town, and sometimes his neighbor borrowed it. This the farmer believed was to his advantage, for country people believed that one good turn deserves another. But one day the farmer thought he’d be doing himself a good turn if he traded the horse for something more useful, though he didn’t know what it could be.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said his wife. “There’s a market in town today. Why don’t you ride the horse to town and there you can trade it for something else. Whatever you do I’m sure will be all right.”
She tied his tie in a double bow to make her husband look more handsome. Then she brushed his hat with the palm of her hand, gave him a kiss good-bye, and off he rode on the horse that was to be sold or traded, just as he saw fit.
The sun was shining, it was hot, and there was not a scrap of shade along the way. The dusty road was filled with people traveling to market. Some had wagons, some rode horses, but many were on foot. And as he rode along, the farmer noticed a man leading a cow that was as beautiful as any cow could be.
“I’ll bet that cow gives a lot of good milk,” he said to himself. Then he called to the man, “You there with the cow, I’d like to talk with you!” And when the man turned around, the farmer continued, “I know that a horse is worth more than a cow, but a cow would be more useful to me. Shall we trade?”
“Why not?” said the man.
Now the farmer had done what he had set out to do so he should have turned around and gone back home with his new cow. But since he had meant to go to the market, he decided it would be a pity to miss it.
He and the cow walked quickly along, and soon they caught up with a man who was leading a goat. Such a fine animal it was. A goat like that I wouldn’t mind owning, the farmer thought. In the winter when it’s cold we could always take it inside. Besides, I don’t have enough grazing for a cow but I would for a goat. The more he looked at the goat, the better the farmer liked it.
“How would you like to trade your goat for my cow?” he finally asked. And the bargain was made.
He hadn’t gone far with his goat when he spied a man sitting on a big stone resting. He had good reason to rest for he was holding a very large goose.
“A fine fat goose!” the farmer cried as he lifted his hat. “How pretty it would look on our pond and then Mother could feed it our potato peelings.” She has often said that we ought to have a goose, he thought to himself, and now we shall have one! “I’ll trade you my goat for your goose and throw a thank-you into the bargain,” he said to the man.
“A goat for my goose!” exclaimed the stranger. “It’s a deal, but you can keep your thank-you for I don’t like to drive too hard a bargain.”
The farmer tucked the goose under his arm and walked on. People and animals were milling all about him as he came near the market.
The town’s gatekeeper had tied his hen in his potato patch so that it wouldn’t become frightened and run away in all the confusion. Its tail was as finely feathered as that of a cock. “Cluck! Cluck,” she said and winked at the farmer.
“That hen is a beautiful bird,” said the farmer, “I wish it were mine.” A hen can always find a grain of corn on the ground where she can scratch for her food, he thought to himself. Then she’ll lay eggs for us. I think I’ll see if I can strike a bargain for her.
It was no sooner said than done. After the farmer traded his goose for the gatekeeper’s white hen, he decided he was thirsty and hungry.
Entering an inn, the farmer bumped into one of the servants who was carrying a sack over his shoulder. “What do you have in the sack?” the farmer asked.
“Rotten apples,” the servant replied. “I’m on my way to the pigpen with them.”
A whole sackful, what an awful waste! thought the farmer. I wish Mother could see it. He remembered that last year their old apple tree only had one apple. Mother had put it in the cupboard and there it lay until it was all dried up and no bigger than a walnut. Then one day she had said to him, “I feel rich just looking at it.” He began to think how good she would feel if she had a whole sackful of apples so he asked the servant for them.
“What will you give me for them?” asked the servant.
“My hen,” the farmer replied. He hardly spoke the words before he found a sack of rotten apples in his arms instead of a hen.
The inn was crowded with butchers, farmers, merchants, horse dealers, and even a couple of rich Englishmen. The farmer sat down and, without giving it a thought, he put his sack of apples down on the stove and soon they began to simmer and sizzle.
“What’s that?” asked one of the rich Englishmen, pointing to the sack on the stove.
The farmer told him how he had traded his horse for a cow, his cow for a goat, his goat for a goose, his goose for a hen, and finally the hen for a sack of rotten apples.
“Your wife will be angry when you get home,” the Englishman scoffed.
“No,” the farmer insisted. “She’ll just kiss me and say that what Father does is always right.”
“I’ll bet a barrel of gold and a sackful of silver that she won’t,” said both Englishmen at once.
“The barrel of gold is enough and, if I lose, I’ll fill a barrel for you with rotten apples and you can have Mother and me for good measure,” the farmer declared.
So the Englishmen hired the innkeeper’s horses and carriage, and off they all went to the farmer’s house. When they arrived they drove right up to the door, where a barking dog and the farmer’s wife came out to greet them.
“Good evening, Mother,” said the farmer.
“I’m glad you arrived home safely,” she answered.
“Well, I traded the horse for a cow,” said the farmer.
“Trading is a man’s business,” she said and threw her arms around him. “Now we’ll have milk, butter, and cheese.”
“But I traded the cow for a goat.”
“How clever of you,” she said happily. “We have just enough grass for a goat, and the goat’s milk will be delicious for our supper. I can knit socks and a nightshirt from the goat’s wool. What a wise and thoughtful husband you are!”
“Then I traded the goat for a fat goose,” the farmer told her.
“Oh, my good husband, are we really going to have a fat goose in November for St. Martin’s Eve?” she asked. “You are always thinking of ways to please me.”
“I traded the goose for a hen,” the farmer said proudly, for now he realized how very well he had done.
“That was a good exchange,” said the wife. “Hens lay eggs and from eggs come little chicks. Soon we’ll have a real henyard and that is something I have always wanted.”
“But I traded the hen for a sackful of rotten apples.”
“Now I must kiss you, my dear husband!” his wife said, “for while you were away I decided to make a fine supper. I wanted to make an omelet with chives, but I had no chives. Our neighbor has some but she wouldn’t loan any to me. She declared that I could never return even so much as a rotten apple, because nothing grew in our garden. Now I can trade her many rotten apples. You have made the best bargain of all.”
The Englishmen held their sides with laughter. “From bad to worse and they don’t even know it. Always happy, always contented. It’s worth the money to see such people,” they said and gave the barrelful of gold coins to the farmer.
Yes, it pays for a wife to admit that her husband is clever. And now you know that “what father does is always right!”

A story related by Elder Christoffel Golden, of South Africa, refreshed my concerns. He was recently in Lusaka, Zambia, attending a meeting of new converts. A well-spoken, well-dressed stranger with a Book of Mormon in hand walked in. He stated he had driven past the chapel many times and had wondered what church met there and what they taught for doctrine.

At the conclusion of the meeting, this gentleman stood up, raised his copy of the Book of Mormon high in the air, and asked, “Why have you kept this book hidden from the people of Lusaka? Why have you kept it a secret?”

He was introduced by a friend to the English language classes the missionaries presented. That led to the discussions and an invitation to attend Church.
“I attended the investigators’ class. What I heard there made little sense to me at first. I was an active Buddhist in a family of active Buddhists. But the name of Jesus touched my heart. I remember as a boy hearing Protestant missionaries talk of Jesus and Christianity. My parents and relatives did not like Christians and they said harsh things about them and about Jesus. I couldn’t help but wonder about this man Jesus. What happened to him? Why did my family talk only of bad things about him?
“So when the missionaries talked to me of Jesus, I decided to invite them to my cousin’s home where I was living while going to school. He and his family listened to some of the discussions, but then stopped.
“I continued with the discussions and with attending church, and I finally gained a testimony.
“I was baptized when I was eighteen years old.

I’m serving as a missionary, and I love teaching people about Jesus Christ and helping them learn how to follow Him more closely. But sometimes it’s the teacher who learns the most.
One evening, while at a member’s home for dinner, I was asked to pray. As I was doing so, I realized it was starting to sound a lot like the last prayer I’d said at a member’s home. A thought came into my mind, “Whom are you praying to? Them or God?” It shocked me enough that I paused for a moment. I realized that I was praying “to be heard of men” (Alma 38:13) and not out of a sincere desire to communicate with my Father in Heaven. I was doing it out of duty instead of out of love for God.
As I finished my prayer, I silently thanked God for revealing my faults to me. I promised Him that I would pray to be heard of Him and not just to say nice words. As I’ve since kept that promise, I’ve drawn so much closer to Him and have been better able to recognize His loving hand in my life.

A victim of intolerance, Joseph Smith was deeply offended when a Catholic convent was burned in New England, saying, “Yes, in sight of the very spot where the fire of American Independence was first kindled.” (History of the Church, 2:465.) Maligned, even today, Joseph once declared, “I am just as ready to die in defending the rights of a Presbyterian, a Baptist, or … any other denomination.” (History of the Church, 5:498.)

He also tries to be a good example to his friends. “One time in my class at school, the teacher had a bag of candy on her desk. The candy was for the school to sell. When the teacher wasn’t in the classroom, some of my friends wanted to steal some of the candy. I felt the Holy Ghost telling me that it was the wrong thing to do, so I told my friends that it was wrong and that I would not do it. All the other children in the class decided not to take any, either.”

I have always wanted to share the gospel with others, but for many years I wasn’t successful. Until I became friends with a boy named Tiago. We lived close to each other, so we walked home together after school each day.

One day, we took a different route home and passed by the chapel where I went to church. I told him that I had been a member of the Church for a long time. I told him what we believed and how much my family had been blessed by it. I invited Tiago to church that Sunday, and he said he would come.

Sunday arrived, and I anxiously waited for him at church, but he didn’t come. Later that week, I invited him again. This happened for two or three months, but he always had an excuse to not come. But I didn’t stop inviting him.

One Sunday morning, I was in sacrament meeting and looked over to see Tiago standing there. I was surprised to see him, but he came and sat down by me and said, “I promised I would come!”

I introduced him to the missionaries, and they started teaching him. Later, he got baptized. Now we’re both preparing to go on missions. I’m so glad I didn’t give up on him!
Meiry R., Brazil

In the four short years of Bimbo’s life, he had many experiences. One winter my brother had scarlet fever. In those days medicines were not as effective as they are now in controlling communicable diseases, so no one was allowed to leave the home during such illnesses. My father went to live with his parents for three weeks so he could continue his work. The rest of us, including Bimbo, were not supposed to leave the house.
A quarantine sign was placed in a window and no one came to visit but the doctor. Whenever Mother opened the door to let the doctor in, Bimbo would dart out. Then Mother or I had to chase him up the street and bring him back to his “prison” so he wouldn’t carry the disease to anyone. I don’t know who disliked the quarantine period most—me, my mother, or Bimbo.

Elder McKay’s horse Dandy wasn’t as wise. He could escape any pen or corral by opening the latch or chewing off the lead rope.
Elder McKay: That horse has done it again.
Dandy wandered into the street and was hit by a car. He survived but did not learn his lesson.
Elder McKay: That should teach you not to go running off, Dandy!
One day Dandy escaped again. He and another horse wandered into an old house used to store grain and started eating poisoned oats—bait for gophers.
Elder McKay was very sad to lose his favorite horse. He often told Dandy’s story to show the danger of disobeying rules.
Elder McKay: Young people, you must always know where the limits are. Keep the commandments and you will be safe.

But on its basketball court, ordinary activities like the stake youth sports festival can become extraordinary. For example, watch the Mandaluyong Third Ward basketball team. Suddenly your eyes focus on a young man wobbling and limping his way down the hard court.
A knee injury, perhaps?
A sprained wrist?
Not so, you find out. The young man is partially paralyzed.
For Alvin Martinez, rising against the odds is just like turning swampland into skyscrapers. Alvin was born healthy, and like other newborn Filipino babies he was given polio shots. But somehow, the vaccine attacked his nerves. His right leg and arm started turning immobile. The polio vaccine rendered his entire right side paralyzed.
Alvin was often the subject of jokes in school when classmates would see him limping his way to class.
“Hey, it’s Alvin,” somebody would shout.
“The way is straight,” another would jeer, “so how come you walk crooked?”
“Alvin, Alvin pilay!” Pilay means “cripple.” It was a jeer his straight-walking classmates loved to bestow on him.
But teasing wasn’t Alvin’s only trial. His father suddenly died of a stroke. Struggling with his family’s loss and his classmates’ snide comments, Alvin drifted from school and church activity and found another barkada, or group of buddies.
In Manila, a barkada can consist either of friends who build you up or of those who let you down. Alvin’s barkada was of the negative variety. Still, Alvin tried to maintain his LDS standards. “My friends would invite me to smoke,” he remembers, “but I told them I was a Mormon.”
Finally, Alvin resolved to rise up despite his limitations and, like David of old, conquer his personal Goliaths. He made a firm resolve to continue his schooling. His widowed mother, who now works as a seamstress, was delighted. She had patiently reminded him that his future would be brighter if he had a good education.
At school, Alvin found a new barkada, classmates who treated him with respect. “All my classmates are so kind and friendly,” he beams.
A little bit shy at first, but actually fun-loving and witty, Alvin also began to find church to be a home away from home. “I enjoyed being in church,” Alvin says, “and I liked being with my fellow young men.” Because of the influence of good Church friends and priesthood quorum members, Alvin’s testimony was strengthened and he found himself, with the help of his youth leaders, back in church. In visiting Alvin, they would often tell him not to be ashamed of his disability. “We wanted him to know that he was valued,” one youth leader recalls, “and he did feel appreciated eventually.” Alvin is grateful for the missionaries who taught his family, and he’s even more grateful for the youth leaders who helped him come back to church after going through some real struggles.

This dearth of information made even the irrepressible Stephens a bit skeptical, but he had high hopes. In company with a kindred spirit—and accomplished artist—Frederic Catherwood, he set sail for Central America.
Their first goal, Copan, was a sickly village of mud-walled huts. But discovery loomed near. A native guide led them through the jungle to a riverbank. Opposite reared a hundred-foot-high stone wall—the edge of ancient Copan and of a new era in history. Quickly crossing the river and scaling the wall, they found themselves amid the fallen relics of a forgotten civilization.
“Working our way through the thick woods,” Stephens wrote. “we came upon a square stone column, about fourteen feet high … sculptured on all four … sides … in very bold relief … they were works of art … some equal to the finest monuments of the Egyptians.
“America [said historians of the 1830’s] was peopled by savages; but savages never built these structures, savages never carved these stones. When we asked the Indians if they knew who made them, their dull answer was ‘Quién sabe? [Who knows?]’”
The pair could not see it all—the jungle was too thick. They concentrated on the unburied “idols,” or stelae. These were huge, thirty-ton monoliths carved with an incredible profusion of figures, flowers, and animals. Erected on set dates to commemorate events unknown to us, they climaxed the Mayan genius.

There also have been times when my parents wouldn’t allow me to go places or do things I wanted to do. I have not always been happy about their decisions. But many times I have come to realize that they were right. For example, when I was younger, some of my friends were going to a “teen night” at a nightclub, and my parents wouldn’t let me go. I was upset and felt that my parents didn’t trust me. But after my bad feelings left, we talked about the temptations all around us and how my being at the nightclub would be opening the door to greater temptations. We also talked about my being worthy to pass the sacrament and about honoring my priesthood. I love my Heavenly Father and my parents, and I know that love and obedience go hand in hand.

“Hooray!” Andrew yelled when he saw the batch of cookie dough that his mother was putting into the refrigerator. “That means tomorrow is ‘Cookie Sunday!’”
“Yes,” replied his mother. “Do you remember what you must do to earn these cookies?”
“I remember. I just need to tell you one thing that I learned in sacrament meeting. That’s easy.”
“You’re right, Andrew. It’s too easy for a big boy like you. This time I want you to tell me three things that you learned.”
“Three!” Andrew took a closer look at the cookie dough. “Is it chocolate chip?”
His mother nodded. “You know, Andrew, listening longer will help you be reverent longer too.”
When the bishop stood up at church after the sacrament had been passed the next day, Andrew forgot to listen. He was busy looking at his favorite book about Jesus. He especially liked the picture of Jesus with the children. He liked to imagine that he was one of those children and that Jesus was smiling at him.
Mother tapped Andrew on the arm as the first speaker stood up. It was Samuel Jenkins, a friend of Andrew’s big brother. Andrew liked Samuel because he sometimes let Andrew play with his basketball. He gave Samuel a big smile, and Samuel smiled back! Then he started his talk. Andrew listened hard. Samuel said that he was saving his money to go on a mission. I’m saving my money, too, Andrew thought. He had a special box that had a place for his tithing, his missionary savings, and his spending money. He was saving his spending money to buy a red toy truck just like the one Toby had. Where is Toby today? he wondered. Andrew saw Toby’s father and baby brother sitting in front of them, but Toby wasn’t there. Toby was his best friend, and he had taught Andrew how to tie his shoes. Andrew was leaning down to see if his shoes needed tying, when his mother tapped him on the back. Oh-oh, thought Andrew, I’m not listening any more.
Andrew looked up just in time to see Samuel sit down and another man take his place. The man’s name was Jethro Williams. He and his family had just moved into the ward. Andrew thought that Brother Williams had kind eyes. Brother Williams was introducing his family, so Andrew turned around to locate them in the congregation. He didn’t see any boys his age in the family, but there was a little girl. Andrew also looked around for Toby, but he didn’t see him. He did see his friend Jacob, though, and gave him a little wave. Andrew felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, so he quietly turned around and saw Brother Williams opening his scriptures.
One day I’ll have my own scriptures too, Andrew thought. My scriptures will have a black cover like Dad’s, with pages that make a whispering sound when you turn them. He leaned over and saw that a lot of words in Dad’s scriptures had red-pencil lines under them. That meant that the words were extra special.
Brother Williams was reading something about the Lamanites, so Andrew opened his Book of Mormon Storybook and turned to his favorite story about Samuel the Lamanite. He was still busy looking at the pictures when he heard the organ start to play. Is the meeting over already? Andrew wondered. No, it’s just a rest hymn, he decided as the congregation sang “The Spirit of God.” Andrew sang especially loud on the chorus. In Primary the music leader had said that when the children sang the chorus, they sounded like angels.
After the song, Sister Williams stood up. She had a soft voice that reminded Andrew of his Primary teacher. His Primary teacher often said, “Bless your heart.” Andrew listened hard to hear if Sister Williams would say that, too, but she didn’t. Instead, she said another word a lot. She said, “thankful.” Andrew listened, and he counted on his fingers that she said it five times!
She really is thankful, Andrew thought.
Then Sister Williams began to cry a little. Andrew used to feel funny when grown-ups cried in church, but his mother told him that people sometimes cry when they feel very happy inside because of their blessings. Andrew decided to count his own blessings. He thought of his new bicycle that he was learning to ride and of his pet gerbil, Blacky. Then he thought of Amanda, his baby sister, who was asleep on Dad’s lap. Andrew was reaching over to pat Amanda’s curly head when the organ began to play again. The meeting was almost over! This time it was a hymn that Andrew didn’t know, but he helped hold the book for his mother and hummed softly.
After dinner that afternoon, Andrew’s mother got out the bowl of cookie dough. “Well, Andrew,” she said, “tell me what you learned today.”
Andrew thought hard. “Samuel Jenkins talked about saving for his mission. He told me that when he goes on his mission, he’ll give me his basketball! Isn’t that great?”
Mother nodded. “Yes, that’s great. And I’m glad that you were listening when he talked about being a missionary. What else did you learn?”
“I learned that we have a new girl named Sarah Williams in our Primary class. Her father had her stand up in sacrament meeting. In Primary I found out that she likes chocolate chip cookies, just like me!”
Mother smiled. “OK, Andrew. That counts. Shall we take her some cookies to share with her family today?”
“OK, Mom.” Andrew’s eyes lit up. “And could we take some to Toby too? He wasn’t at church today because he’s sick.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mother. “But first you need to tell me one more thing that you learned today.”
Andrew spoke slowly, “Well, Sister Williams was thankful for five things, and in church I could only think of three things that I was thankful for. But now I’ve thought of two more.”
“What are they?”
“I’m thankful for all my friends and for chocolate chip cookies to share with them!”

In Michael Sneddon’s carefully designed model, he faced many problems, such as deciding just how small is small, and what the length of a tree would have actually been. From his initial figuring, Michael decided that since people would have to stand inside, a minimum height would have to be 8 feet. To conform with proper ship proportion, the beam would have to be approximately 20 to 24 feet long. The length of the barge would need to be approximately 3 to 3 1/2 times larger than the beam length, or from 60 to 95 feet. Working in reverse, Michael decided he could find the approximate “length of a tree.” Asia and India have many kinds of trees. Average length was found to be anywhere from 60 to 120 feet. Michael decided that the average of the average was 90 feet. Therefore, using this method, the beam would be approximately 30 feet.

Nearly 6,000 members from throughout Venezuela attended the dedication. “Having the prophet dedicate the temple in our country is something I will always remember,” said Carlos Ordeneta of Maracaibo, Venezuela, who traveled 10 hours with many other Maracaibo members to attend. “The temple is the best thing that has ever happened to Venezuela.”

The ugly duckling thought he had no value until he discovered his true identity as a swan. Then he knew that he was infinitely valuable and loved.

Family is important to eight-year-old Shonesty Johnson. When she turned eight, her father, Alexander, was out of town, working in the oil fields. She postponed her baptism a month and a half so that he could perform the ordinance. Her fifteen-year-old brother, Alexander, Jr., (Zack), sang “When I Am Baptized” as part of the service. Shonesty says, “I liked being baptized. It made me feel good—especially because Dad baptized me and my brother sang to me.”

Arrive early and place a piece of paper and pencil on each desk. Once everyone arrives, tell them to imagine they are riding in an airplane that just blew its final engine. They have only two or three minutes before the plane will crash, and there will be no survivors. Invite your classmates to write a letter to their family and friends. Encourage them to include the things which are most important to them. After the allotted time, collect the letters and tear them up one by one. Ask the class members how they felt when the things they had written, intended for their loved ones left behind, were destroyed. Explain that the Lord and His prophets who wrote and prepared the scriptures are distressed when we ignore their words. Share 2 Nephi 4:15 and stress the importance of scripture study.