Gospel Story Finder

When the darkness of night falls, we do not despair and worry that the sun is extinguished. We do not postulate that the sun is not there or is dead. We understand that we are in a shadow, that the earth will continue to rotate, and that eventually the rays of the sun will reach us once again.

The Book of Mormon was a means of introducing Wannipha Thongchalerm, to the Church. First introduced to Christianity by a United States serviceman, she received a copy of the Book of Mormon from a friend. The book led to visits by the full-time missionaries. “Learning the gospel was a happy experience for me,” she says. “The missionaries would visit me every other day, and I would make notes of what they told me. Each time they came, I would repeat the previous lesson back to them. I was baptized in 1976.”
Sister Thongchalerm married a nonmember whose work required him to travel a great deal. After five years of marriage, they were divorced. Prior to the divorce, Sister Thongchalerm began studying to be a nurse, a profession she still follows at one of the local hospitals. Three years after her divorce, she married Anan, who had been baptized in 1981. With their two children, Ariza, 4, and Aachanoon, 3, they were among the group that went to the Manila Temple.
“When I came back from the temple, I felt a greater need to share the gospel with others. I decided I would try to bring at least ten other people into the Church, a goal I reached within two years.”
Sister Thongchalerm, who teaches in seminary, Sunday School, and Relief Society, treasures her testimony. “I feel that no matter what happens, no one can take away my testimony of Jesus Christ.”
The Thongchalerms live in a multilevel house in Udorn—a house Brother Thongchalerm will completely finish “some day.”

I am a full-time missionary serving in the Philippines Baguio Mission, where thousands of these great people accept the gospel every year. I would just like to say thanks for all the love and support I receive from the New Era. In the mission we receive the New Era about two times a month, along with letters from home. I look forward to that time. I enjoy the stories, poetry, quotes, pictures, and other inspirational messages that I receive in order to gain the spiritual growth that is needed to teach and preach the gospel.
The New Era is, to me, a “piece of home.” When I read it I can almost smell mom’s roast beef in the oven after a Sunday morning sacrament meeting and the taste of sweet honey on a sourdough biscuit.
Thanks for the inspiration.
Elder Trent HillPhilippines Baguio Mission

Recently I searched through a journal I’ve had for years to ponder times I’ve relied on the Savior. I read about the despair I felt as I witnessed addiction in my family, experienced unemployment, navigated seasons of uncertainty and loneliness, and struggled with my physical and mental health. I read about some of the darkest moments in my life, when my spirit felt crushed by the weight of my challenges.

But as I reflected on these experiences, I was brought to tears as the Spirit showed me how Christ comforted and led me through my challenges—and still does! Despite the trials in my life, I’ve been able to find so much joy. I’ve experienced the healing balm of forgiveness, witnessed miracles, and learned how to hold on to hope each day—and I know it’s all because of my Savior, Jesus Christ. He truly helps us to overcome the impossible.

During the concerts, the thrill of singing the Berlioz Requiem and the a cappella concerts filled members of the choir with great emotion and joy. But for at least one choir member, Michael McOmber, singing in Israel had powerful personal meaning.
“I sang to Jews, Moslems, Christians, and to my great-grandfather’s brother, John Alexander Clark,” he says. Elder John Clark, who had been called to the Turkish mission in 1894, died of smallpox in 1895 at Haifa, in present-day Israel. He was one of two missionaries buried there who, it seemed, had died in vain. In modern times, however, these graves served as evidence of the Church’s prior presence in Israel and were helpful in its gaining approval for the Jerusalem Center to be built.
“We sang a moving number based on a text from Psalm 137,” [Ps. 137] says Michael, “‘By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept when we remembered thee, O Zion,’ I stood and wept. The unanticipated sense of irony gently overwhelmed me as I thought of my ancestor John: ‘How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?’ the Psalmist had said of captive Israel. Yet I felt hauntingly at home here, singing the Lord’s song to my ancestor. I had come to sing a requiem in memoriam: I shall never forget thee, O Jerusalem, nor John Alexander Clark.”

In 1856, two handcart companies, with 1,075 pioneers under the leadership of James G. Willie and Edward Martin, left later in the year than planned, and they encountered early winter storms in present-day Wyoming (see Kate B. Carter, comp., Heart Throbs of the West, 6 vols. (1939–51), 6:360–61).

Peter Howard McBride, then but a boy of six years, was a member of the Martin Company. His father, after helping push handcarts through the icy river, died in the snow and freezing cold that night. Peter’s mother was sick; his older sister Jenetta watched out for the younger children. Her shoes had worn out, and her feet left bloody tracks in the snow. On the banks of the Sweetwater River the wind blew their tent down during the night. Everyone scampered out as the snow covered the tent—everyone except little Peter. According to his account: “In the morning I heard someone say, ‘How many are dead in this tent?’ My sister said, ‘Well, my little brother must be frozen to death in that tent.’ So they jerked the tent loose, sent it scurrying over the snow. My hair was frozen to the tent. I picked myself up and came out quite alive, to their surprise” (Peter Howard McBride, quoted in Susan Arrington Madsen, I Walked to Zion, 41, 43, 45–46).

In 1912 the giant passenger liner Titanic, while traveling at night, collided with an iceberg, and over fifteen hundred lives were lost.
Shortly after this, the International Ice Patrol Service, maintained by the U.S. Coast Guard, was formed. Through daily vigilance, U.S. Coast Guard planes and ships locate and chart the course of icebergs and relay the information to ships traveling in the area. This service has saved many lives, because radar and sonar equipment cannot be completely relied upon to detect icebergs in rough, choppy waters or in rain, snow, or fog.

A mother in North Carolina who had been cared for by willing Relief Society sisters during an illness said, “The sisters have taught me a lesson about the worth of a soul and that even at the bottom, stripped of all roles, titles, and responsibilities, we are valuable to our Father in Heaven and to each other and that charity never faileth.”

In 1972 she married Christopher Chukwurah, who shared the same desire, but for 10 years they struggled to find the right church. After fasting and praying for guidance, they both felt prompted to visit a friend, who introduced them to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One month later, they were baptized in a stream in Aba.

The Vernal Utah Temple is built largely within the walls of the former Vernal Utah Uintah Stake Tabernacle, constructed in 1907. Thus, one of the newest temples was built, in part, by faithful Saints long dead. In a happy mingling of the old and new, children of today joined their ancestors in raising a temple to the Lord. At the groundbreaking, President Gordon B. Hinckley invited children to help turn over the soil. He said, “Every boy and girl who lives in these stakes would take pride through the years to come if he or she, through a little sacrifice, were to make a contribution of a dollar or two … or five or ten toward the construction of a house of the Lord, and each time he or she passed it or came into this building, he or she could say, ‘I had a part in the building of that sacred and beautiful structure.’”
The boys and girls of the temple district listened to the prophet and contributed not only their dollars but their talents and hard work as well.

“I never thought the kids would stay for the program,” says Rich Armstrong of the Scout committee. “I could see youth using lots of outdoor energy, but I didn’t expect them to be interested in symphony music.”
“I had never heard a symphony orchestra before,” says Brennan Wood. “But the more you hear symphony music, the more you understand it.”
Trent Wardwell agrees. “This has given me a better appreciation for what goes into producing symphony music. Hours before the concert, while we are putting up chairs and tables, the symphony workers have to set up their sound system and prepare the stage, just for a short, two-hour show.”

When I was 11, my family lived in a 12-story building in Hong Kong. Every day after school, I ran into the building and rode the elevator to our apartment.
One day I got into the elevator and pressed all the buttons so they lit up. Now the elevator would stop on each floor. The doors started to close, but all of a sudden a hand shot in and opened the doors. It was one of my upstairs neighbors. She didn’t say anything about the buttons, but I was nervous. It felt like it took forever to get home!
Sure enough, the elevator stopped on the next floor, waited, and then kept going. As soon as the doors opened on my floor, I dashed out. I got home sweating because I ran so fast!
Soon after I got home, the phone rang. It was the neighbor from the elevator. I got so nervous waiting for my mom to get off the phone.
After she got off the phone, my mother asked, “Did you press all the buttons on the elevator?”
I couldn’t lie to my mother. “Yes,” I said.
My mother smiled. “OK, let’s go upstairs and talk to our neighbor.”
We went upstairs together. I rang the doorbell, and my neighbor came to the door. My head hung low as I said I was sorry that I pressed all the buttons. I promised I would never do it again.
Our neighbor was kind. She said, “As long as you never do it again, I think that’s fine.”
After telling her I was sorry, I felt good. And I never pressed all the buttons on the elevator again.
This experience helped me learn about repentance. I knew I did something wrong. I felt sorry and asked for forgiveness. And I never did it again. Then I felt happy! Repentance can bring you happiness too.
From an interview with Kristin Pedersen.

It is comforting to know that we have a living prophet, President Ezra Taft Benson, who directs our attention to areas of our lives that need improvement.

I have always sustained the living prophets, partly because I have received a personal witness that each is called of God. That personal witness regarding President Benson came Saturday morning, 5 April 1986, as I sat watching the first session of general conference on television with my family. As President Benson concluded his comments, I thought, “Surely the Lord has spoken to the Latter-day Saints. Now the responsibility is ours to listen and obey—to cleanse the inner vessel!”

It was Thursday, and like hundreds of others in the Church, Jim and Alex anxiously waited for the mail to arrive. Their missionary recommendation papers had been turned in several weeks before, and today might be the day their calls would arrive.
Jim was working at the local supermarket, and Alex was working for a home builder. Both had made their mothers promise that if a large white envelope from Church headquarters arrived, they would not open it. Both had trouble concentrating on their work that day. Jim nearly bagged bath soap with the fresh vegetables, and Alex cut a couple of boards too short.
The large white envelopes did arrive. And both young men rushed home from work at the end of the day. With their families around them, they opened the long-awaited calls to serve. The anticipation was replaced by joy and tears of gratitude. Both young men felt the Lord had spoken, and they were ready to respond to His call.
As the initial excitement died down, the next phase of preparation began. Both families made detailed checklists: scheduling the last day of work, buying clothes and luggage, preparing for sacrament meeting, holding a family get-together, and—oh yes—going to the temple. Sadly, however, only one of the families revered the temple experience as the main event in the life of their son, giving it the emphasis it deserves.

I sat and stared in disbelief as Brother Jarman, a member of the branch presidency, waited for my answer.
Maybe he had meant to say teacher or counselor. But he hadn’t. What I heard was correct; he had called me as the Relief Society president in our small branch.
I sat still for some time reflecting on my situation. I was just 27 years old and had never been married. I had recently moved to the area and was beginning a new job as a journalist. My leadership experience was limited. I had served in several callings over the years but never one like this.
Silently I asked myself if I was old enough or experienced enough or if I even had the ability to serve. What could I possibly offer the women of the branch?
I went home that night, knelt in prayer, and asked Heavenly Father for direction. After I finished my prayer, I was instantly drawn to look at my patriarchal blessing. I read this sentence: “You are to be about that work which you were assigned to do now, even while you are young.”
As I read those words, I realized that this was not about my marital status, my age, or what I could do. It was about what the Lord needed me to do. I accepted the calling.

If you were to visit a Hutterite colony today, you would meet several young persons like John and Anna Hofer, who live in the Elm Creek colony of South Dakota. John is eleven years old, and his sister Anna is ten. From the first ringing of the early morning bell until it rings again for evening prayers, John and Anna will follow about the same daily schedule that their great-grandparents did.
John dresses quickly when he hears the morning bell, slipping suspenders up over his shoulders as he joins his brothers and father to feed the animals. After breakfast with the other colony children in the big communal dining hall, John hurries to the small, one-room schoolhouse.
John is not happy in school. He often wishes he were out in the fields with his big brothers, away from the musty classroom and the noisy girls. But John knows that he only has to go to school until the eighth grade.
After he finishes school, John will be assigned chores or work in the fields until the time he is baptized. When he is about nineteen years old, the elders will put him with an experienced craftsman to learn a trade, perhaps as a carpenter or a bricklayer.
John’s father is the cattle boss, and John wonders if he will be told to work with the cows. He hopes that he can learn a skill, so he can travel to other colonies and see more of the country. Whatever job John takes, he will not leave his home at Elm Creek until the elders decide it is time for him to work at other colonies and find himself a wife.
John may sometimes wonder about things he hears mentioned, like high school, college, and the army; but he knows that those things will never be for him. John doesn’t mind, though, and he would never question the decisions the elders make for him.
Perhaps it seems strange to children outside the colony, but John is very satisfied with his life. As he looks out at the vast fields of oats, corn, and wheat and at the huge herds of cattle and flocks of chickens, he knows that all of those things belong to him as much as they belong to any other colony member.

Following the organization of the Church, persecution soon raised its ugly head. A decision was made to move to Kirtland, Ohio.
Here they built their beautiful temple, and in its prayer of dedication the young prophet invoked the powers of heaven that the Church “may come forth out of the wilderness of darkness, and shine forth fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners” (D&C 109:73).
But the fulfillment of that prayer would not come quickly. The peace of Kirtland was shattered by insults, financial distress, the tarring and feathering of their leader.

One day while upset with his younger brother, our nine-year-old loudly complained of his brother’s faults. This had happened many times before, and it had troubled me, but this day I felt inspired to try a more positive approach to solving the problem. I sent my son to his room and told him not to come out until he had written down ten nice things about his younger brother. When he emerged with the list, his attitude had changed. Looking for the positive had crowded out his negative thoughts and feelings.
We have since used this form of discipline frequently and have found it an effective way to maintain an atmosphere of love in our home. And learning early in life to look for a person’s good qualities will make our children happier and better prepared to get along with others in the future.

I have often related that in the early days of the missionary work in Brazil, where we now have over half a million members of the Church, we did not have the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, or the Doctrine and Covenants translated into the Portuguese language. All we had were the Bible, a few tracts, our personal testimonies concerning the Restoration of the gospel and the Joseph Smith story, and our testimony of the living prophet. The harvest was not great. However, some of those who were baptized have for three generations remained faithful because they were touched by the powerful testimonies of humble missionaries almost 60 years ago. Now, you cannot be responsible for whether or not those you teach will accept your testimony and join the Church. Do not feel that you must obtain a quota of baptisms to be successful. An old saying teaches that you can count the number of seeds in a single apple, but you can’t count the number of apples in a single seed. The harvest is the Lord’s. Your responsibility is to thrust in the sickle.

Frances couldn’t sleep. She felt like jumping up and down with excitement, but she forced herself to lie still so she wouldn’t wake her three younger brothers on the floor beside her.
She pinched herself to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. “Tomorrow I’m really going with Father to Salt Lake City for the temple dedication. This will be my happiest birthday ever!” she thought.
It seemed only minutes had passed when Father nudged her and whispered, “Wake up, Frances. It’s nearly sunup.”
She quickly slid into her dress and smoothed her hair. Clutching the small bundle containing her other dress, she hurried to the wagon.
Frances had never been away from home. She wanted to see everything. But by mid-morning, she realized that red soil, gray sagebrush, and dark cedar trees were the only sights for miles around. “I wish we could go faster,” she said. “I can’t wait to see the temple. Perhaps we’ll even see the prophet!”
“Singing will make the journey go faster,” Father suggested. He began singing his favorite hymn, “The Spirit of God.”* After he finished singing, Father said, “That song was sung at the Kirtland Temple dedication. I expect it will be sung in many more temples of the Lord.”
Frances and her father began to sing in harmony. The hymns “Now Let Us Rejoice” and “Redeemer of Israel”** echoed through the nearby hills. Frances smiled. “I’ve never been so happy,” she thought.
After Father stopped the team for the night and the two of them had eaten, Father said, “It’s time for scripture study. Will you read from Isaiah, Frances?”
She opened Father’s well-worn Bible to the page they had read the night before and began reading.
After scripture study, Frances lay on the corn-husk tick (mattress) in the wagon and quickly fell asleep.
April 6, 1893, dawned cold and windy. Frances awoke early. She could hardly contain her excitement! “Today we will finally see the temple!” she thought. “I couldn’t receive a better birthday present.”
The scenery changed as they traveled north. The mountains were higher and more rugged. The air was cooler with cloudy skies, threatening to rain.
When they arrived in Salt Lake City, many wagons and buggies bumped along the busy, dusty road toward the temple. “It looks like everyone in the Church is going to the dedication with us,” Frances exclaimed.
Rounding a curve, she gasped. In the distance a huge granite building with six majestic spires rose in splendor. Standing high on one spire was a golden statue of the angel Moroni.
Father stopped the wagon. Tears filled Frances’s eyes as she hugged Father’s arm. “The temple is even more beautiful than I had imagined,” she whispered.
Father’s eyes were moist, too. “It’s taken forty years of sacrifice and hard labor to build this temple, but it is a small price to pay to finally receive the blessings the Lord has in store for us in His house.”
To Frances’s surprise, Father drew a tiny box from his pocket and placed it in her hand. “I want you to always remember this day,” he said. Opening the box, he removed a gold locket and fastened its delicate chain around her neck.
Tears of joy flowed down her cheeks. “Father, I love you so! I’ll always treasure this locket. It will help me remember the things you’ve taught me.”
“Always remember the importance of the Lord’s house,” Father said. “The desire of my heart is for all of my children to be sealed in the temple. I’m depending on you to set the example and teach your brothers and baby sister.”
“I will, Father,” Frances promised.
Father jerked the reins, and the horses moved forward. Outside the temple a large crowd was assembling. Father parked the wagon a short distance from the temple, secured the horses, then helped Frances climb out of the wagon.
As Frances studied each detail of the great temple, she remembered the words she had read in Isaiah the night before:
“Even them will I bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer: their … sacrifices shall be accepted upon mine altar; for mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all people” (Isa. 56:7).
She looked at the golden angel, high against the ash-gray sky. Walking reverently beside her father, she whispered, “I’ve never felt this close to the Lord. I know that this is His house.” She reached for her father’s hand. A feeling of joy and peace filled her heart as they walked toward the temple doors.