Gospel Story Finder

“One time my friends were going somewhere to smoke,” says Norelia, “and I said, ‘Remember what my religion is? I don’t do those things.’ Some of them have come to understand that smoking is a dirty habit and have tried to stop. They call me ‘the perfect one’ and always ask me for advice. I tell them I’m not perfect but I try to live the standards of my church. They respect my beliefs, and I think I have sown a few seeds that may be a source of strength to them someday.”

Now let me close by personalizing this a little. On January 12, 1992, Jody Jorgensen Nichols, a neighbor of ours and one of the best friends of our daughter, Jani, left the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, and flew to Helsinki, Finland, with two elders and two other sisters to serve in the Finland Helsinki East Mission. All had been studying Russian and were preparing to preach to the Russian people. At that point there was no mission in Russia, but Gary Browning, president of the Finland Helsinki East Mission, was responsible for the members and missionaries in the former Soviet Union. Our good friends Gerald and Peggy Jorgensen, Jody’s parents, were a little apprehensive about sending Jody off to Russia. In fact, Peggy told me that she even wondered if she would ever see Jody again. Their understanding was that Jody would live in Helsinki but travel back and forth to different spots in Russia to teach the people.

When Jody arrived in Helsinki, she and her group were notified that they would all leave for Saint Petersburg the next day. However, one would continue on alone to Moscow. Little did they know what was going to be announced that weekend. The next morning, as they prepared to leave, Jody was told that she would be the lone missionary continuing on to Moscow. She sat down and wrote a short note to her parents explaining that she was the only missionary in her group of five who would travel on to Moscow. On Thursday, January 16, Jody arrived in Moscow, where she met up with her companion and began to work with a small group in the Church. At that time there was one main branch and three small groups in Moscow, all clustered around metro stops. On Saturday, Jody attended a zone conference where it was announced that two new missions were being created: the Russia Saint Petersburg and Russia Moscow Missions. So now she knew that she would be working in Russia for the remainder of her mission. Only a few days later, on Monday, her letter from Helsinki arrived in Orem, and the reality of the transfer began to set in for Gerald and Peggy. Would Peggy’s premonition come true? Needless to say, Monday was a very difficult day. All they knew was that Jody was leaving her companions behind and traveling alone to Moscow to begin her work.

At the same time, not knowing that Jody had left the MTC, I was preparing for a trip to Moscow. I had been invited to present a paper at a conference being hosted by Moscow State University, and I was having a difficult time getting a visa. In fact, I nearly canceled my trip because I knew that I would miss the plenary session where I was to present my paper. But I had my tickets, and I didn’t want to let down my host. So in the Dulles Airport I met a courier with my visa and then headed off to Moscow about the same time Jody was on the train leaving Helsinki. I knew I would be there on Sunday, so I asked my nonmember friend, Andrei Markov—then the vice dean of the College of Economics at Moscow State University—if he could find an LDS branch for me to attend. On Sunday, only a few days after Jody arrived in Moscow, I had a taxi take me to the building close to the university metro stop where the Church group was meeting. I was early—one of the few times that has happened in my life—so I sat in the cold foyer of the building and waited for the members to arrive. Who was one of the first people to walk through the door? Jody Jorgensen. We were both shocked. I told her to sit down during church and write a letter to her parents. And then it was so fun to listen to Jody bear her testimony in Russian, having only been in the country a few days. She had prepared herself well.

The next day I flew home. That happened to be the day that Gerald and Peggy received Jody’s letter from Helsinki. When I arrived home about 10 p.m. or so, I called Gerald to tell him that I had just come from Moscow, where I had gone to church with Jody, and that I had a letter for them. Needless to say, he came right over. Peggy has since told me that when they got my call that Monday night, she was lying in bed clutching her scriptures, worried to death about Jody. Once she got the letter I brought, she felt a feeling of peace come over her that never left her for the rest of Jody’s mission. She knew that everything would be all right.

Does the Lord care about these things? Of course he does. Was it a coincidence that I decided to go to Moscow, even though I missed part of the conference? Was it a coincidence that Jody and I ended up in the same building at the same time? Of course not. Sometimes, if we step back, we can see the Lord’s hand in his work.

Today, 12-year-old Loni, of the Jordan (Utah) Oaks Fifth Ward, can’t remember all of that trouble, but she’s heard enough about it to want to change things somehow. So on January 1, Loni set a goal to sew clothes small enough for babies as tiny as one or two pounds and donate them to the hospital.

“If she sets a goal, she does it,” says Sharon. “There is no stopping her.” Loni says she is always working on one goal or another. And it doesn’t matter whether it’s service oriented or meant for self-improvement; Loni is up to the challenge.

Her idea to sew “preemie” clothes has definitely been one of the larger goals on that list. But for Loni it was easy. She has been sewing since age eight and had no problem finding doll patterns to shrink down and follow. Within a week Loni had sewn eight outfits and delivered them to the newborns at the University of Utah Hospital.

A local television station got wind of what she was doing and picked up her story when Loni delivered the clothes to the hospital. A local viewer was impressed and donated several bolts of material to Loni for more clothes.

Loni quickly took up the challenge and sewed 18 more outfits. This time she made tiny jogging suits, dresses, and night clothes for the infants. On March 1 she returned to the hospital with another batch of clothes.

There she met Kimberly and Mark Graham, whose son Colton had been in the hospital for six weeks. Colton was born 13 weeks early and had only been dressed twice when Loni delivered the clothes. Kimberly was touched by Loni’s ability and desire to do this for her son and the other infants at the hospital. “It means a lot to the parents,” she says. “It’s especially nice because some of these people could really use this. Dressing their babies up lets them feel that they’re going to be okay and helps them realize that there are other [premature] babies out there.”

Many of the clothes Loni delivered will remain at the hospital for other infants to wear during their stay or until they grow into store-bought clothes. And, most likely, Loni Frandsen will show up again at the Newborn Intensive Care Center with an armful of clothes. For Loni service is an everyday act. She says that goals like this allow her to be an example. “[They] help me because I can do things for other people, just like Jesus would.” Loni couldn’t have said that any better.

I remember several years back my wife and I were at the White Cliffs of Dover in England. At that time we could drive close to the cliff's edge. We got out of the car and admired the beauty. I wanted to get closer to the edge and watch the sea birds that would catch the updrafts near the sea cliffs and glide out over the water in search of food. My wife would not go too close. But I was so intrigued that I wanted to stand on the very edge to watch. An interesting thing happened to me. Whether it was the wind or the height or something else I felt unsteady as if I was going to fall off the cliff. I quickly retreated a few steps to a place of safety.

When we are on the edge of keeping the commandments, mistakes can be made easily and they can be spiritually fatal. It is much safer to have distance between us and the edge. We should set our limits some distance away from the edge. There may be times when a girlfriend or boyfriend may encourage us closer to that edge than we feel comfortable. Those are times when we should quickly move further away from the edge and perhaps away from those people. Nothing is worth our eternal life, no friend, no popularity and no earthly wealth.

One day in fourth grade I took a spelling test. I had studied and felt I knew the words well. When I got my paper back, it was marked 100 percent. But as I read over the words, I found that I had misspelled one. I thought about keeping the good grade, but decided that it wouldn’t be honest. So I told my teacher about my mistake. She looked at me and said, “Well, I’ll give you 100 percent anyway since you’re so honest.” It makes me feel good to know that I can follow the Savior and have eternal life.

The New Era always seems to arrive at the time I need it most. I’d been through a particularly tough test one day, and when I arrived back at the house, there were three issues waiting to be read. You can’t imagine the happiness I felt. I immediately sat down and read all of them. It was like water to a thirsty soul. Being 8,000 miles from home, I enjoy the New Era more than ever. It is my “mission magazine.”
Elder William R. NelsonColombia Cali Mission

“One cow in our team was very intelligent. In fact, she was so smart that she used to hide in the willows to keep from being yoked up but when father found her and yoked her she was a good worker and a good milker. She got very lame at one time and could scarcely travel. My parents were very worried, since they had already lost one. They were afraid they could not travel as fast as the rest of the company, and so Mother said she would make a poultice and put it on as soon as the cow laid down for the night. She made a very large one that covered all of the lame hip. Well, the next morning, when father went out to get the cows up he called out, ‘Why, Mother, you have poulticed the wrong hip.’ Mother said, ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s all right. It has gone clear through.’ And sure enough she (the cow) limped very little that day, and was soon as well as ever. I know there was a great deal of faith mixed up with that poultice.”

Have you ever heard the old saying that people who get lost tend to walk in circles?
Jan L. Souman, a German psychologist, wanted to determine scientifically if this was true. He took participants of an experiment to a large forest area and to the Sahara desert and used a global positioning system to track where they went. They had no compass or any other device. Instructions to them were simple: walk in a straight line in the direction indicated.
Dr. Souman later described what happened. “[Some] of them walked on a cloudy day, with the sun hidden behind the clouds [and with no reference points in view]. … [They] all walked in circles, with [several] of them repeatedly crossing their own path without noticing it.” Other participants walked while the sun was shining, with faraway reference points in view. “These … followed an almost perfectly straight course.”1
This study has been repeated by others with different methodologies.2 All returned similar results.

I am reminded of a story that involves a famous artist named Robert Henri. Like most aspiring art students in the 1800s Robert trained in Paris at the Academie Julien or the Ecole de Beaux Artes. Substitute yourself for Robert Henri in the following account—and see if it sounds familiar:
I once lived in the top of a house, in a little room in Paris. I was a student. My place was a romance. It was a mansard room with a little square window that looked out over housetops with pink chimneys. I could see the Institute, the Pantheon and the Tower of St. Jacques. The tiles on the floor were red, and some of them were broken and got out of place, but there was a little stove, a washbasin, a pitcher and piles of my drawings. My bed was a cot. It was a wonderful place. I cooked fine meals of macaroni and eggs on my little stove and ate with the window open. I kept my Camembert cheese out on the ledge. I studied and thought and made compositions, and wrote letters home full of hope of someday being an artist. It was wonderful.

But days came when hopes looked black and my art student's paradise was turned into a dirty little room with broken tiles. Ashes fell from the stove and it was all hopelessly poor. I was tired of camembert and eggs and macaroni and there wasn't a shade of significance in those delicate little chimneys, or the Pantheon, the Institute or even the Tower of St. Jacques...

Now, what had changed? Nothing and everything. Though the circumstances remained identical, his whole existence seemed precariously balanced on the caprice of mood. Seeing the beautiful and seeking the good are skills developed as we recognize that there will be occasional bleak periods that will test our resolve and endurance, but the quest to gain judgment and discretion regarding what we will allow into our lives begins now and lasts for as long as we are alive; so don't allow yourself to be easily derailed. If you make a mistake or two, its okay; just keep trying.

Those unexpected telephone calls continued to influence his life. Three years later, shortly before he was to be released as president of the France-Switzerland Mission, there was another telephone call, this time from President Marion G. Romney. Elder Didier was called as a regional representative and at the same time appointed area manager in translation and distribution of Church materials for all of Europe.
Then, in October 1975 while he was attending conference in Salt Lake City, Elder Didier received a telephone call that President Spencer W. Kimball wanted to see him. He was called to be a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy that was to be organized.
“There are some things you plan for the future, certain things you imagine will happen to you. But when that calling of General Authority comes, you close the door and say, ‘Now I am in the hands of the Lord 100 percent. I’ll do what he asks me to do.’”

When I was a sophomore at the University of Utah I started dating a young man who had just graduated in Electrical Engineering and we started spending a lot of time together. Six months later I found myself standing in a jewelry store looking at diamond rings with him. I can still remember the incredible warning I had at that moment. I suddenly had a strong feeling that I was doing the wrong thing! I wasn't supposed to marry this young man. I very quickly whispered to him that I thought we needed to go home. He was very shocked, and didn't understand, but after a few more words from me we left the store and drove back to my house. Before I got out of the car I told him that I felt prompted by the Spirit that I was making a mistake. I knew that we shouldn't proceed with our plans. I climbed out of the car, walked up the driveway, and went inside my house. I hardly even looked back; I was so sure about the message I had received. It wasn't until I met a young returned missionary named Steve Wheelwright a whole year later that I understood what the Lord had in mind for me.

Now let me continue my dating saga and tell you how I felt when I really did meet the young man I was to marry. When I look back at our courtship, I remember it as if it were yesterday. My older brother told me that he would like to line me up with a fraternity brother of his who had just returned from his mission to Scotland. I was very surprised. My brother hadn't ever done that before, but this time he said, My friend, Steve Wheelwright, is just perfect for you! You need to meet him. Well, we went to a movie on our first date with my brother and his date and then came back to our home for ice cream.

The next day Steve called and asked if I wanted to go sailing with him and some friends. I had never gone sailing in my life, and I must admit that it was white knuckles the entire day. But we laughed and talked and enjoyed ourselves so much that a few days later he called and asked if I wanted to go play tennis with him. I quickly said yes, and then after hanging up the telephone, I sank back in my chair with fear, knowing that I was a terrible tennis player! I remember walking over to my best friend Monetta's house in panic, asking her what I should do. She laughed and said, Oh Margaret, he isn't asking you to go play tennis because he wants to play tennis; he just wants to be with you! I relaxed a little, borrowed her tennis racket, and went back home and waited for him to arrive. Sure enough, he didn't seem to care that I was a lousy tennis player. We played for about an hour and then we spent the rest of the afternoon talking and enjoying each other's company.

When it came time to take our relationship to the next step, neither one of us seemed afraid or nervous committing ourselves to something more serious. The Spirit truly brought peace and comfort to me as we continued getting to know each other better. Neither of us had much money. We both had part time jobs after school, but Steve was about ready to graduate and continue in his graduate studies, and we both knew we were in love. It just was the most comfortable and natural thing in the world to go to the next level of commitment in our relationship. We became engaged in October of 1965. It was so completely different than my first experience that ended in the jewelry store! Steve had all the important characteristics on my list! He was committed to the gospel; he was kind, thoughtful, hard working, happy, respectful, and devoted to me. He made me a better person when I was with him. What more could I ever ask for?

Our older son, Cornel, had stamped in out of the snow for a brief visit after a late afternoon class when the call came. Automatically reaching for the phone, as he had done so often before his recent marriage, he listened briefly, asked, “Where are you?” and began to zip up his parka, still beaded with melting snow. He said, “Okay,” and hung up.
To our questioning looks he answered simply, “Ryan can’t get his car started and needs a push.” At the door he suddenly grinned and said, “I wonder if every family gets as much mileage out of Proverbs 17:17 as we do.”

When my parents were married they went on a little car trip for their honeymoon. They decided that they were going to have this family and they needed to know how to take care of their family. My mother was always one who was a planner. So, on a paper sack she started taking notes of their conversation. She said, "What is our family going to be like? What do we want them to accomplish? Do we want our children to be married in the temple? Do we want our children to serve missions? Do we want our children to receive a university education?" And my father on his honeymoon agreed to everything. He even said they should all take piano lessons. So then they said, "Well, in order to do that then we'll have home evening, and we'll have scripture study. We'll go to church every week; we will accept callings and serve. We will teach them the gospel to the best of our ability." When my mother came to the idea of education, my father said, I believe in education but I'm a poor man. So she wrote down "work." "We'll have to teach them to work."

And those principles started to emerge in their family and come into operation in their lives. They didn't know their family would grow to include ten children. They didn't know they would be in the university business for 25 years, and by then the grandchildren were starting to come and get into universities. They didn't know the effort it would take to send out six missionaries, to prepare ten children for temple marriages, and then as the grandchildren came, 65 of them, they felt their responsibility increased. But I have always been touched by that story of my parents who upon making a covenant with the Lord got to work making a plan for how to multiply, replenish, subdue, have dominion, to dress and keep in their family because they had this vision of a fruitful, abundant harvest.

Rob: You usually don’t realize you have a problem until you are in so deep you can no longer see the light. That’s what happened with me. I was curious and justified my involvement with pornography by reminding myself that guys at school were involved with it too, and it didn’t seem like a big problem for them.

Rob: Curiosity turned to interest, and interest developed into a strong habit. Soon I was addicted. I would get home from school, go straight to the computer, and be there for hours. My social life suffered. So did my schoolwork, family ties, and—most important—my spirituality.
At the very time I most needed the promptings of the Spirit in my life, I was less and less able to feel anything. Life became a constant struggle against depression.
My soul hungered, but the only thing I fed it offered no nourishment. I would get down on myself, so I would delve into pornography to feel better. But the pornography would upset me even more.

Rob: Through all those years I attended church, but I was mentally inactive. I kept going to church so I wouldn’t upset my parents. But I knew the lifestyle I was caught up in was wrong. I noticed a change in my own countenance day by day, year by year. I became calloused and hardened. I found myself lying to my parents, my bishop, everyone around me. Inside I was going through personal turmoil and spiritual torment.

Rob: I humbly bowed before the Lord in tears and pled for strength beyond my own. Night after night I prayed, and finally I knew I had to talk to my bishop about it. That was the hardest part—admitting to someone else that I had a problem. I kept thinking I could handle it myself and no one would ever have to know. I wanted it to be something just between God and me. But I finally matured to the point that I realized that was impossible. I approached my bishop and began a long and difficult repentance process.

It took a lot of time and sincere effort to break bad habits. Eventually I was judged by my priesthood leader as worthy to serve a mission. The best feeling in the world was to go through the temple and know I am clean. The Spirit I wanted to feel during all those teenage years came flooding into my heart and life. I am so thankful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
The adversary still works on me, trying to get me to backslide. But I have learned to put on the armor of God every day. I know Jesus Christ loves me, and I love Him.

The scriptures have blessed others. Many of you have read the book The Hiding Place, by Corrie ten Boom. The scriptures were an answer for her in a time much more bleak than most of us will ever have to face.
Corrie and her sister, Betsy, lived Christian lives in prewar Holland. They responded to the brutality against Jewish people by hiding them in the family home. When the hiding place was discovered, the sisters were shipped to a death camp where they suffered all the deprivation heaped upon the Jewish prisoners.
In an unusual way Corrie was able to keep a Bible. She led scripture readings with the other prisoners. Their outer world of suffering grew “harder and harder.” But she described their inner life as just the opposite. In her words:
“Our Bible was the center of an ever-widening circle of help and hope. Like waifs clustered around a blazing fire, we gathered about it, holding out our hearts to its warmth and light. The blacker the night around us grew, the brighter and truer and more beautiful burned the word of God. …
“Life … took place on two separate levels. One, the observable, external life, grew every day more horrible. The other, the life we lived with God, grew daily better, truth upon truth, glory upon glory” (Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, New York City: Bantam Books, 1974, pp. 194–95).

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There he was, standing at the pulpit. I had never seen Brother John at church before, let alone heard him bear his testimony. A month later he came to church and bore his testimony again.
It all started one Sunday morning in priesthood executive committee meeting. I was serving as the Young Men president. We had just read from the Church Handbook of Instructions, and the bishop was sitting quietly, pondering. Then he looked up and said, “I want our Aaronic Priesthood brethren to begin collecting fast offerings from less-active members.” He asked us to involve the teachers and priests.
I was surprised. In Cape Town, South Africa, most members live far from each other. It takes about 35 minutes to drive from one side of our ward to the other. The young men had never collected fast offerings before because they couldn’t walk to members’ homes—the distance was too great, and we were concerned about their safety.
As a committee we came up with a plan as we discussed how we might overcome these obstacles. The elders quorum agreed to assign brethren to take the young men to several homes on the Saturday before each fast Sunday. We split the ward into areas and assigned each companionship to visit a few active families and a few less-active families. We realized that our plan would be a good opportunity for the brethren to get to know the youth and for the youth to receive counsel from the elders.
When we presented the plan to the young men, they were eager to try it. We reminded them to wear Sunday clothes and that this was part of their sacred responsibility to watch over the ward.
I was assigned to take my younger brother, Andrew. The following Saturday we visited everyone on our list, but most people weren’t home. The last member we visited was Brother John, whom we didn’t know well.
Andrew got out of the car, knocked on the door, and waited. He was just about to return to the car when the door opened. Andrew shook Brother John’s hand and said, “Hello, my name is Andrew, and I’m from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Tomorrow is fast Sunday, and the bishop has asked us to visit members to receive any fast-offering donations they wish to make.”
He handed Brother John an envelope. Brother John was surprised, but he walked inside with the envelope. After a few minutes he emerged from the house with a smile. He politely thanked Andrew and handed the envelope to him. I got out of the car, and we all chatted for a while. As we were leaving, Brother John waved goodbye and said, “Make sure you come next month.” Andrew was excited all the way back to the chapel, where we turned in our envelopes to a member of the bishopric.
The next month we made sure to visit Brother John. Again, he was friendly. After a few months he began attending church on fast Sunday. Our Saturday visits reminded him of his Sunday meetings, and he would come the next day.
We were excited when Brother John became active in the Church. We felt a special bond with him. Words cannot express the joy that came to us because one soul had returned to the fold. Within a few months, he was attending regularly, and soon he was called to serve in the elders quorum presidency.
For us, the highlight of this experience came when Brother John was asked to speak in sacrament meeting about tithes and offerings. At the end of his talk he spoke about Andrew’s first visit.
With moistened eyes he said: “Andrew, you will never know the impact you had on my life that Saturday morning when you came to my door with that blue envelope. You may have thought it was a waste of time, but blessings came into my life because you provided me with an opportunity to pay my fast offering. Your service is one reason I am here today.”

One evening, I was walking to my house. It was only a few blocks away from where I had met up with some friends earlier, but now it was completely dark. I could barely see where I was walking.
I noticed that three young men were following me. I began walking faster to distance myself from them, but they kept following me. I felt a heavy feeling inside me. Then a clear thought came to me: run! I began running up the hill. The hill was really steep, but I felt a strength that wasn’t mine. It was beyond my own.
Now the young men were running too and catching up. I wasn’t sure what to do next. Again, a clear thought came to my mind that told me to go down a narrow passageway. When I did, much to my surprise, I saw a police officer. Exhausted from running all those blocks and almost out of breath, I asked him for help. When the young men saw me talking to the police officer, they stopped chasing me and eventually walked away. To make sure I was safe, the police officer walked me home.
That night I kept thinking about the promptings I had received. I felt at peace knowing that Heavenly Father had helped me. I said a prayer thanking Him for His guidance. I know that if we obey the voice of the Spirit, we will be safe.
Martín S., Puerto Madryn, Argentina

When I was 15, my elder sister Swarupa met a couple from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints serving as missionaries in Rajahmundry, India, and soon she was taking the missionary discussions. Although the name of the Church seemed strange to me and I didn’t understand or speak much English, I listened in on some of the discussions. I felt good about the teachings, and eventually the two of us were baptized. Later my other sister and my brother were also baptized.

Tommy’s mother also taught him how to love and serve others. Every Sunday before the Monson family ate dinner, Tommy’s mother prepared a plate of roast beef, potatoes, and gravy for Old Bob. Sometimes it also included Tommy’s mother’s famous ribbon cake with layers of green, pink, and yellow cake and chocolate frosting. Tommy’s job was to deliver the dinner to Old Bob.
At first Tommy did not understand why he couldn’t eat first and then take the plate over. But he never complained. He would run quickly down to Old Bob’s house, balancing the full plate. Then he would wait anxiously as Old Bob came slowly to the door.
The two would then trade plates—Bob’s clean plate from the previous Sunday and Tommy’s plate piled high with food. Then Bob would offer a dime as payment for the kindness.
Tommy’s answer was always the same: “I can’t accept the money. My mother would tan my hide.”
The old gentleman would pat Tommy’s blond hair and say, “My boy, you have a wonderful mother. Tell her thank you.” When Tommy reported the compliment from Old Bob back to his mother, her eyes glistened with tears.

I am grateful for a teacher who encouraged his students to keep a journal of the whisperings or promptings of the Spirit in their lives. He directed us to note what we felt and what resulted. Little things became evident. One day I was frantically trying to complete some assignments and prepare for a trip. I had just been down to the laundry area of the dorm to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Unfortunately, all the dryers were in use, and they all had many minutes to go. I went back upstairs discouraged, knowing that by the time those dryers finished, I had to be on the road. I had barely returned to my room when I felt prompted to go back downstairs and check the laundry again. Foolishness, I thought—I had just been there, and I didn’t have time. But because I was trying to listen, I went. Two of the dryers were empty—and I was able to meet all my commitments. Could the Lord possibly have been concerned about smoothing my way in such a small but, to me, important matter? I have learned since, through many such experiences, that the Lord will help us in every aspect of our lives when we are trying to serve Him and do His will.