Gospel Story Finder

I recall that as a graduate student I wrote a critique of an important political philosopher. It was clear that I disagreed with him. My professor told me that my paper was good, but not good enough. Before you launch into your criticism, she said, you must first present the strongest case for the position you are opposing, one that the philosopher himself could accept. I redid the paper. I still had important differences with the philosopher, but I understood him better, and I saw the strengths and virtues, as well as limitations, of his belief. I learned a lesson that I’ve applied across the spectrum of my life.

Contemplating the words of the scriptures, I was suddenly startled with the terrifying thought, “What if the clock were to be turned back on my life fifteen years, and I found myself again with a couple of teenagers and a small child living in the 1980 environment?” I found cold beads of perspiration standing out on my forehead as I considered the challenge of maintaining a traditional family during these troublesome years. It was then that I started to think of what I would do differently than I did in that first experience if I could repeat the process fifteen years later.

Four problem areas flashed through my mind which would require renewed determination and effort:
Family finances. To provide for a family would be much more difficult. Employment is not as secure. Change is occurring at an ever-increasing rate. It is much more of a problem to maintain our standard of living with inflation as it is today. Housing, utilities, food, clothing, and the gas-guzzling automobiles are all taking a larger share of the family income. The pressures on family finances would increase family tensions. How to cope with this new environment looms as a major challenge. But suddenly I was comforted by a voice that was heard to say:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Prov. 3:5–6.)
I realized the Church had been preparing me for years for a time of stress and strain. Today a long-range family financial plan is clearly needed if children are to have the blessings of missions and education. It would need to be carefully worked out and prepared to meet these requirements. The avoidance of debt is essential; living within my income, fundamental. Much thought and understanding must be given to keep my family finances properly balanced. Expenditures must be challenged: Do I really need a giant house with the giant-size monthly mortgage payments? Is a second car required? Can my family-centered activities replace costly commercial entertainment? Can vacations be made exciting at home?
Having a one-year supply must be moved up on the family priority list. How it is obtained must be considered again. Can more of it be the result of our own labors in making our own clothes, increasing our garden yield, and preserving our own food?
How can I wisely invest my savings so that inflation will not rob me of them? Is my career income secure and able to keep pace with the needs of my family during the ever-changing decade of the eighties?
Yes, assuming the responsibilities of caring temporally for a family requires much more thought, preparation, and planning in the environment we live in today.

David heard a horse trotting into the yard. He knew that sound—Father was home! The door opened, and Father walked in.
“I have some good news,” Father said. “The glass for the tabernacle has arrived in California!”
David felt like cheering. Everyone in their town of St. George knew about the tabernacle windows. The tabernacle was being built so the Church members in Southern Utah could have a place to worship. But the tabernacle didn’t have glass for the windows yet. They had to order it all the way from New York.
New York was a long way from Utah. Father had drawn out a map with charcoal to show David. David had traced the long line the glass had to travel by boat from New York all the way to San Bernadino, California. That’s where it was now. From there it still had to be brought the last 300 miles by wagon to St. George.
Father was in charge of leading the wagon team to California and back. “The glass is waiting for us, but we still need $800 to pick it up.”
David eyes got wide. He had never even heard of that much money!
“Do you think we can raise the money?” Father asked, ruffling David’s hair.
“Of course we can!” David answered. He ran to his room. In minutes he came back and handed a two-cent piece to his father. It was all he had.
Over the next few days, David’s family pulled together $3.87. They knew it wasn’t very much. But they also knew that if Heavenly Father wanted the Saints to build a tabernacle to worship in, then He would provide a way. They prayed for His help.
News soon spread throughout the pioneer community, and everyone gave all they could to the window fund. But when Father counted up the money on the last night before the trip, it was only $200.
“Maybe you should wait till spring,” Mother suggested. “Perhaps we could have the money by then.”
Father shook his head. “No, we have to go now. Otherwise the building will be unprotected from the rain and snow all winter. We can’t let it be damaged.”
That night they prayed for help again. They had done all they could. But it wasn’t enough. David’s father decided to start the journey to California anyway. He had faith that somehow things would work out.
Before first light, the wagon team pulled up outside David’s house. The other travelers joined David’s family inside for a prayer. Father pleaded with Heavenly Father for help.
A knock at the door startled them. When Mother opened it, a man walked in. He said his name was Peter Nielsen, and he was from a nearby town called Washington.
“Hello, Brother Cannon,” he said to Father. “You’re the man I need to see. I had a dream that I should bring you the money I’ve been saving to work on my home. I know that for some reason you need it, and God wants you to have it. Here.”
Brother Nielsen untied a red handkerchief and poured gold pieces onto the table until a big pile lay there. Father counted the coins one by one. $600! With the $200, it made $800. That was exactly the amount they needed to go and get the glass for the Tabernacle! Right away they prayed to thank Heavenly Father.
Within minutes the team was heading west. As they left, David knew without a doubt that Heavenly Father had provided a way for them.

A blessing I have experienced is to be able to attend the temple with all our married children and their spouses. Sitting in the celestial room with all of them gave my wife, Mandy, and I such joy, even the thought to say, “my joy is full.”

During my last sacrament meeting at the MTC, an elder stood who was older than most missionaries. He apologized for his poorly-spoken English, but hoped that he would be understood. His voice was deep and strong. He told of growing up in Cracow, Poland. He felt uncomfortable attending his family’s church and said that he “instinctively” knew some of its practices were not correct. He stopped going to his church and instead began to study the Bible. As he grew he became increasingly unhappy with the government, and at age eighteen he asked for political asylum in Austria. It was granted, and he left his home to start a new life. He spent nine very difficult months in the refugee camp near Vienna before seeking permission to migrate to the United States. Once he arrived he was contacted by missionaries from many churches. “They were nice,” he said, “but I could tell they did not have the answers I was looking for.” One day he saw a television program on the Mormons. He felt good about what he saw, and he decided to learn more of the Church. He met the missionaries, heard and accepted the gospel, and at age twenty-five was serving a mission. “It is a privilege to be here,” he said softly in his deep Polish accent. “I have been looking for a long time.”

I remember walking home from Primary one afternoon when I was about eleven years old. I had been deeply moved by the lesson Sister Squires had taught us about Gethsemane and the Savior’s crucifixion. I remember saying to my father that since Jesus Christ was God, this suffering would not have hurt Him as much as it would an ordinary person.

My father got the scriptures from our living room and read to me from the nineteenth section of the Doctrine and Covenants. He read several verses to me, among them verses 16–19:
“‘For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;
“‘But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I;
“‘Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink—
“‘Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and finished my preparations unto the children of men.’” [D&C 19:16–19]

After my father finished reading the scriptures, he turned to me and said, “Because Jesus Christ was God, it hurt Him more, not less.”

Don’t think that only grown-ups can understand the doctrines of the Church or learn from the scriptures. The Spirit can help you feel and know these things too. Don’t worry if you don’t understand everything you read or hear—grown-ups don’t, either. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that Sister Squires told us about the Savior’s Atonement and Crucifixion. Her lesson troubled me. It led me to ask more questions. I’m also grateful to a father who knew the scriptures and who didn’t think I was too young to learn. I’m sure Sister Squires didn’t tell us everything she knew, and I’m sure I didn’t understand everything she told us. But I felt that day what I think she felt, and it made a difference in my life.

In the fall of 1830, the first Mormon missionaries arrived in Kirtland. Rebecca listened to them with interest and attended all of the missionaries’ meetings; she even brought her children. Frederick attended as often as his medical practice would allow. The two would study, discuss, and learn together, but Frederick was less certain in his commitment. Meanwhile Rebecca became convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel.
A family biographer later described Rebecca as a kind of Eve in the Garden of Eden: she was “the first to see the necessity” to step into full fellowship in the gospel covenant.4 She was baptized in October 1830.
Frederick still vacillated. Sometimes he wanted to leave the Church alone but in the end could not because he felt drawn back to that sacred, new book of scripture: the Book of Mormon. As the Spirit worked in him, he recognized the truthfulness of the gospel and followed Rebecca’s example by being baptized.

“What’s this for?” Jolene asked.
“Oh, that’s just something from church,” I answered as unenthusiastically as I could. The last thing I wanted was to have a huge church discussion.
We had been having one of those examine-each-other’s-wallets sessions at my lunch table. Jolene had been looking at the contents of my wallet when she found my For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I didn’t want to attract attention, so I did my best to make it sound as boring as possible.
Undaunted, she began to read the pamphlet to herself. The rest of the table grew curious and asked her to read it aloud. She began with the preface from the First Presidency and continued to read about standards, dating, and language. Then she paused and asked if this was why I acted differently than others at school. I looked at my friends who were all waiting for an explanation. I was worried that mocking and jokes about the Church would come next.
I replied, “Yeah, these are some guidelines the leaders of our church gave us to help us do what is right.”
Jolene finished reading the booklet to everyone. By the end of lunch, my entire table had received a lesson on the standards of the Church. Many of them asked if they could have a copy of their own.
I had thought that only a perfect member of the Church could be a missionary, and here I had been one by accident. Now, I always make sure wherever I go I have a For the Strength of Youth with me, plus two more to give away whenever I get the chance.

As they’re learning how to save for a mission and speak in church, they’re also learning how to serve. Sister Harris can tell about the day she went visiting teaching to Sister Aidair, and there were Len and Lou. They were helping Sister Aidair fix her broken lawnmower. “It’s fun being needed,” Len says. “Monday we have a service project. We’re going to mow the lawn of an elderly couple.”

I would really like to express my appreciation for the New Era. Every month I can read through the magazine and find many answers to my prayers. I was raised in the Church, but I have never really understood it till this past year. I’ve always taken it for granted, but it’s just amazing how much wisdom and inspiration can be put into 50 pages of printed paper. I was especially inspired by the story “Reflections on Shadows” in the January issue. It’s practically my life story. I just started a diet and know that this story will help strengthen my will. Thank you so much for this wonderful magazine.
Johanna NelsonColby, Kansas

In the March 2011 issue, I read and loved the story “Kindness to All Creatures.” I loved it so much that I wrote a talk about it for Primary. I know I can be kind to all creatures like David O. McKay was.

Reminiscing about his happy childhood Christmases, Elder Taylor remembers that “just through the block from us lived Professor Robert Sauer, a German convert. He was a music instructor at Brigham Young University and the leader of its band. While it was still dark on Christmas morning, Brother Sauer would arise, stand on his front porch, and play ‘Silent Night’ and ‘The Holy City’ on his trumpet.”

In a suburb of Kuala Lumpur, Brian Chan, his wife, Sukanya Choysrakoo, and their son and daughter sing a children’s song together. “Music is an important part of worship,” Sukanya says. “It invites the Spirit to be with us.”

An old Swedish couple, Brother and Sister Palm, worked in the shoe shop of the Co-op Store in our town. Brother Palm’s hand was intriguing to watch as he mended the shoes. Jimmie and I would go to the shop just to watch him work his stiff fingers and see the hole that ran through the center of his palm.
Brother Palm didn’t like children chewing pine gum, so he’d always give us cobbler’s wax when we went to the shop.
One day when Jimmie and I were there we saw a dime in one of his tack cups and we both began to think about what that dime could buy.
“Brother Palm would never miss a dime,” I whispered to Jimmie.
“I’ll get Brother Palm to show me something in the rear of his shop while you take the money and run away,” Jimmie suggested.
The plan worked perfectly, and we each bought a bottle of soda water at Joe Coslett’s Novelty Store.
It took a long, long time for me to get over the guilty feeling I had about that dime. Every time I saw Brother Palm, I remembered I had stolen from him.
Each winter the ward sent the boys out on Saturdays to chop wood for the widows, the aged, and the disabled. I worked harder at the Palm home than anywhere else to try and work that dime off my conscience.
After I grew up I saw very little of Brother Palm. But, when I did, he would always put his crippled hand in mine, and then I’d remember the dime I took from his tack cup. I wanted to tell him about it and give him a dollar to quiet my conscience, but I lacked the courage to confess my dishonesty.
Later, I was hired as a clerk in the old Co-op Store where Brother Palm did all his business. When he traded with me, I always put ten cents’ worth more of goods in his sack than I charged him for. Then when he left, I’d put one of my own dimes in the cashbox and mark it “paid” on the store’s ledger.
Soon the old man learned that his money bought more from me, and he would not trade with any other clerk. When someone else offered to serve him he would say, “Thank you. I will wait for Brother Palmer.”
After a while I began to realize that I wasn’t clearing my conscience of that long-ago theft. The only way for me to stop feeling guilty about that stolen dime was to confess what I had done and ask his forgiveness.
The next time Brother Palm came to trade, I gave him his order as usual and asked him to come into the office for a little talk. I opened my ledger account and showed him how I had charged myself—“sugar to Palm 10¢,” “oatmeal to Palm,” “rice to Palm,” and so on, totaling $3.70. He was amazed and asked, “What does all this mean? Has Louisa been buying things and forgetting to pay for them?”
I answered, “No, it was not Sister Palm. You bought them yourself.”
He turned to me with a puzzled and challenging look and said, “There must be a mistake! I never buy ten cents’ worth of sugar, I buy a half dollar’s worth, and I always buy a quarter’s worth of rice or mush.”
Then I told him about the dime I had stolen long ago from his shop and how I was reminded of it each time I saw the hole in his hand. I explained that I had been trying all this time to square my debt by putting ten cents’ worth more of goods in his sacks than he paid for. “I paid the extra amount and then marked it paid in the ledger,” I continued.
Pointing to the list of figures I said, “You see, Brother Palm, I’ve paid my debt many times over, but I’ve found that I can’t clear my conscience that way, so I am telling you the whole story and asking for your forgiveness.”
The old man smiled and said, “Oh, Brother Palmer, I do forgive you. I’m only sorry you didn’t tell me sooner.”
Then he stood up and put out his hand for me to shake. My finger slid into the hole in his palm and at last the guilty feeling left me.

“I think I’m just a normal member of the Church,” says Genia Slepukhina, 17, of Vyborg. “I can maybe go on a hike like this, in good weather with all of my friends. But I don’t really know what it would be like in the winter without food and fuel and shoes. I don’t know if I could do what they had to do.”
But Genia has already proven she can do some things they had to do, like endure persecution. When she first joined the Church, former friends at school scorned her.
“They said, ‘You are not like we are so we won’t speak with you,’” Genia explains. “One teacher said, ‘I will quiz you every day on my subject. Every day. And I know Mormons must be truthful, so don’t lie to me if you’re not prepared.’ That was hard, because I have six or seven subjects each day, and I must prepare for every one.”
Sometimes classmates would even hit her. “But my family, Church friends, and the missionaries really helped me,” Genia says. “They gave me great examples to follow. One of the missionaries showed me Matthew 5:10–12 [Matt. 5:10–12], where the Savior says if you are persecuted because of your faith, you will be blessed. So I kept after it. I always tried to testify of the truth. I think a lot of people thought my belief was just a temporary thing, and in time it would go away. Now they know it’s here to stay.”

Most of us who have ever heard of the great American leader Abraham Lincoln will recall what he said of his mother: “All that I am, all that I hope to be, I owe to my Angel mother.” (In Abraham Lincoln’s Philosophy of Common Sense, ed. Edward J. Kempf, 3 parts, New York: The New York Academy of Sciences, 1965, 1:60.) But how many of us know what his mother’s last words to him were? They were “Be something, Abe.”
Not only is this wise counsel, but it also expresses the yearnings of most fathers’ and mothers’ hearts to have their children be something. Simple terms, but, oh, how powerful, “Be something.” I am so pleased she didn’t say, “Be someone.” She said, “Be something, Abe.” There is a significant difference. In the dictionary someone is defined as “conceived or thought of, but not definitely known,” while something is identified as “a person or thing of importance.”
Abraham Lincoln’s mother knew her son, his potential, and the rocky roads ahead of him; hence, she wanted him to commit himself promptly to being steadfast and immovable in living and promoting deeds of courage and faith in the lives of all mankind.

Today, the familiar tune of “Called to Serve” (Hymns, no. 249) holds special meaning for you as you hear its strains echo through the halls. You have been called to serve as a full-time missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and now you’re about to gain a deeper understanding of the significance of that calling as you report to the Provo Missionary Training Center, or one of the other 16 missionary training centers around the world.
You arrive at the missionary training center (MTC) in missionary attire, perhaps accompanied by your family if they want to be there and can make the trip with you. You check in and receive a name badge with your new title: “Elder” or “Sister.” Sounds good, doesn’t it?
Next is a short orientation meeting. The MTC president and his wife speak, welcoming you and reassuring your family that you’ll be well taken care of. A video presentation then gives you a glimpse of how the MTC can refine and prepare you to be the best missionary possible. At the end of this meeting, it’s time to tell your family good-bye and continue your orientation with the other missionaries. Of course, there are hugs and tears at this point, but as the speaker reminds you, saying good-bye is like pulling off a bandage: the quicker it’s done, the less it hurts.
You are then led to another area of the MTC. At the first stop, you receive your information packet. In it you find a card with your mailing address, your companion’s name, your residence hall and district assignment, and your branch president’s information. You also receive your schedule, which tells you when and where to be for your entire stay in the MTC. A volunteer explains all the information in the packet and answers any questions you have.
Next, you check some forms with your personal information and report any special dietary or medical needs. Then a volunteer goes over your immunization record with you. Depending on where you’re going, you might receive some additional shots at this point.
You then head to the MTC bookstore. You’ve taken a peek at your schedule and realize that a lot of your day will be spent in class. That means you’ll need textbooks—just like in school. You’re given a copy of Preach My Gospel both in English and, if needed, in your mission language. Everything you do in class and during personal study will be connected to this book. Missionaries learning a language also get their workbooks here.
After you pick up your luggage, you find your room. There you meet your companion and other members of your district. Depending on your mission language, your district has between 8 and 12 missionaries, who could all be going to the same mission or several different missions.
In the afternoon, the MTC presidency hosts an orientation meeting for new missionaries. Here you get additional information on the organization of the MTC and the resources available to you.
After dinner in the cafeteria, you meet your branch presidency. While in the MTC, your branch president will conduct Sunday meetings, hold personal interviews, and be available to answer questions and help you solve problems. There are 56 branches at the MTC, divided into two districts with district presidencies (the equivalent of stake presidencies). The districts are presided over by the MTC presidency. After you meet your branch president, it’s lights out at 10:30 p.m.

The ripple effect from this one day of activities has turned into a deluge of opportunity for service and sharing the gospel. Since the carnival, several Scouts have proposed Eagle projects that will aid the homeless children in their city. Several wards have gathered school supplies and clothing to donate to the school, and the carnival is now an annual event.

A young man in South Africa composed a cantata, which was performed by other young adults in his stake last December (see page 23). He says, “The whole point was to share our testimonies of the Savior through the music and the words of the cantata.” To see a video of portions of the cantata, go to www.liahona.lds.org.

The New Era has confirmed my belief in ESP—Extra Spiritual Protection. Since I came on my mission, the New Era has ranked second only to the standard works. It seems like every issue is designed with one of my problems in mind. I felt it was merely a coincidence until I picked up your April issue. It was my birthday, and the mission president called to tell me my father had passed away. Needless to say, it was quite a blow, but my district leader had given us the April magazine, and as I picked it up, it fell open to the article “What Is the Purpose of Suffering?” You can’t realize the strength it gave me to continue my work. I have since learned that my father knew he wasn’t going to be alive when I returned, but he didn’t tell me because he wanted to see me go on my mission. I want to thank Kenneth H. Beesley for writing the article. Every month I become more convinced that the New Era articles are inspired. I hope they can offer other people as much strength as they have me. My only regret is that the magazine comes out only once a month.
Elder Robert Jefferson Busch, Jr.England Bristol Mission