Gospel Story Finder

This Christmas story occurred in the middle of the summer some years ago at a naval training center.
The man opposite me in the room had the many stripes on his uniform that signified long and distinguished service; I was an apprentice seaman in boot camp. Nonetheless, Commander Hamilton, as he had greeted me at the door, had been most gracious—he called me “Mr. Hanks,” seated me with cordiality, and we talked as equals.
The commander, senior chaplain at the great training center, had invited me into his office to discuss the possibility of my becoming a chaplain. I was quick to explain that because I had interrupted my university training to serve as a missionary, I had not finished an academic degree and didn’t qualify for the chaplaincy under the navy’s standards. He replied that he felt he might be able to do something about getting a waiver of that requirement, all other things being favorable.
Commander Hamilton was a rangy, strong-looking man for whom I had immediately formed a feeling of respect and admiration. I had learned that he was one of the survivors of the aircraft carrier Yorktown when she was sunk by enemy action in the war and that he had been in the water for many hours before rescue. I was complimented and humbled that such a man would be considering his proposed action after having visited our group of LDS servicemen at the base.
“Before I recommend you to the Chief of Chaplains, Mr. Hanks, do me a favor, please. Talk to me about your experience in your Church, about what you think may help me in my recommendation of you as qualified to represent the Lord in the military chaplaincy.”
I began to explain to him the lifelong experience of a young man in the Church that had helped me prepare for such a significant opportunity. We went back to the beginning—the early participation, the 2 1/2-minute talks, the service as deacon, teacher, priest, elder, seventy; Scouting, seminary, institute, Sunday School teaching, leadership opportunities, missionary service.
As I talked, he who had been so courteous and kind and interested began to fidget, to lose interest, and I realized, as we do when we are seeking to communicate person-to-person, that I was not connecting, that l was losing the battle, and I became more anxious. Earnestly I tried to tell him what there is in the stage-by-stage opportunity in the Church for a young person to develop the quality to be a servant of God.
After a time his demeanor completely changed, and he interrupted me, saying very brusquely, “Say, Hanks, do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
“Yes, sir!” I said, “Everything I believe relates to Jesus Christ. My faith, my life, center in him as my Savior. The Church I belong to is founded on him and follows him as its living head. It is named in his name.”
He said, looking at his watch, “Well, you have been talking for seven minutes, and you haven’t said so.”
I think I have not made that mistake again.

I’ve loved to dance since I was three. So when I was in middle school, I was excited when tryouts for the dance team came around. I had no doubt that with my talent and experience, I would easily make the team.
A few days after the tryouts, the names of the dance team were posted. To my dismay, I couldn’t find my name anywhere on the list. I was devastated. I went home and cried on my bed. I was mad at the dance teacher and disappointed that I had not been good enough to make the team. My mom quietly walked into my room and suggested that I ask Heavenly Father for the strength to make it through this “bump” in my life. I reluctantly agreed and said a short prayer. After the prayer I didn’t feel any better, so I continued moping around and being miserable. I slept terribly that night.
The next morning I pulled myself out of bed. The memory of my failure was fresh in my mind, and I wanted to just slip right back under the covers. But before I did, I remembered a promise my bishop had made. He said that if I would read my scriptures every day, even if only for 15 minutes, then I would be blessed. If I ever needed a blessing, it was now.
As I read, I discovered this verse in the Doctrine and Covenants:
“I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks;
“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted.
“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (Doctrine and Covenants 98:1–3).
I was shocked. I sat in my pajamas with my messy bed-hair and marveled at how much I had needed these scriptures. All the feelings of anger and sadness washed away in those three verses. I felt the love of my Heavenly Father and knew that He knew what I was going through. With this new perspective, I could see that not being chosen for the dance team really was just a small bump in the road of my life. I fell to my knees in gratitude and thanked Heavenly Father.
For the rest of the day, I was able to keep the Spirit with me and look at my trials as opportunities for growth. I will always hold these verses close to my heart. And I will remember my bishop’s promise about the blessings of turning to the scriptures. I am very grateful I can be a part of this Church and have a knowledge of the gospel. I know that Heavenly Father’s plan for us is truly a plan of happiness.

Later that summer, Nate attended a large scout camp. The final event of the camp was an obstacle course several miles long.

I was so excited to watch him run because now he was fast. I kept watching and watching, but I never saw him, and another boy won. The winner happened to be a good friend of my son. His friend was fast, but my son was really fast.

When I caught up with Nate, he said, "Sorry pops, I got so stressed before the race that I simply chose NOT to run." I told him, "It's alright. It happens."

Does this sound like any of us? Perhaps we hear about a great professor, but they are a hard grader, so we choose not to take their class. The only one that really loses is us.

My son's lack of participation was a great learning experience for both of us. We have had many discussions about that moment. We concluded to never let fear influence our decisions. You never know until you try, and if you don't try, you will never know.

Here's my boy gearing up to jump off a cliff in Africa. His mom was NOT happy. Perhaps, we had taken the fear discussion a little too far.

As a young college student, fifty years ago, my member friend was bold. She asked me directly the golden questions: “What do you know about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Would you like to know more?” As I learned, understood, and gained a testimony of the gospel, I wanted to share it with my family—even though I knew that many of them might not be receptive. And indeed, they were not! But my desire remains strong to be bold. I am constantly thinking of ways I can boldly but gently invite them to come unto Christ.

However, when I became a young adult, I was faced with more temptation and put in a more spiritually stale environment than I had ever been in before.
In South Korea, young adult men are required to serve in the military for a few years. When I was in the middle of my military service after serving my mission, I felt more alone in my faith than ever—for many reasons.
For one, it was hard being separated from other Church members and my family, but another difficulty was being surrounded by things that go against our standards. For example, alcohol is everywhere in South Korea, especially in the military. After drills it was common for everyone to meet to drink together. When they found out I didn’t drink alcohol, they did whatever they could to force me to. In their eyes, I wasn’t just sticking to my values—I was going against culture.
Unfortunately, it was also common for my fellow soldiers to talk about women in a worldly and sexualized way that made me feel uncomfortable. It was a challenge to hear their bad language every day. Additionally, I couldn’t attend church, partake of the sacrament, attend the temple, or do much of anything gospel related during this time.
For a while, I felt so alone and wondered what I could do to feel the Spirit and keep my faith strong. How could I stand in holy places when I didn’t have a choice to?
After a while of struggling, I decided that I needed to take responsibility for feeling the Spirit, even in a worldly environment. One thing that helped me was bringing my scriptures I used on my mission along with me during my service. It truly is the little habits we do each day—reading our scriptures, praying, and looking for opportunities to serve and be more like the Savior—that keep us connected to the Spirit.
One day I came across 1 Corinthians 10:13, which says, “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”
While reading that scripture, I realized that even though I felt alone, Heavenly Father was with me. If I continued to reach out to Him and my Savior, They would help me find a way to faithfully endure my military service and come home with a testimony stronger than before.
The scriptures became a lifeline for me during this time when I was disconnected from church and other members. Talking to Heavenly Father each day and reading my scriptures kept me connected to Him and reminded me of my divine identity, which was another key to surviving spiritually.
Remembering that I am a beloved child of heavenly parents kept my foundation of faith strong, especially when I was faced with temptation.
When I finished my military service, I prioritized spiritual habits more than ever. Being able to attend the temple, partake of the sacrament, and be fully invested in the gospel was such a contrast to the environment I had been in for the previous two years. I now feel the fulness of the blessings, comfort, and joy that the gospel of Jesus Christ offers us. And I’m glad I remained faithful until this was possible.

When Scouting becomes a family affair, good things happen. At a Court of Honor held recently in Hurricane, Utah, three brothers received their Eagle award—Deward, 18, Keith, 15, and Ronald Stout, 14. Their older brother, Dennis, is also an Eagle Scout. All are active in their priesthood quorums.
According to Scouting officials, the odds against four Eagles in one family are 52,000 to 1.
When the new Scouting program was introduced, Ronald was an 11-year-old Tenderfoot. He made up his mind then to become an Eagle. His enthusiasm was catching, and his brothers Deward and Keith began to work with him toward the same goal.
“We had a lot of fun earning those 24 merit badges,” says Ronald. “One thing I like about it is the happy memories we can look back on. Now my goal is to see how many more merit badges I can earn before I’m 18.”

He told a story of a French carpenter in the early 1800s who was having difficulty in his profession keeping his productivity high because of the defective hammers he used. He had trouble keeping the head on the hammer as he worked. He would spend half of his time chasing his flying hammerhead. He tried everything to attempt to keep the head on. He tried to nail it on. He tried to soak it in water. He even tried to glue it. Each process would help only for a short time before he would again find himself chasing the hammerhead. Now, all of the carpenters in the country were having the same problem and all were seemingly content to live with the situation with the exception of this man. He desired to be the best carpenter in all of France, but his efficiency was limited to the effectiveness of the tools he used. He reasoned that the only way he could become the best was to build a better hammer. Each evening after his working hours, he would ponder and think about what could be done to develop a better hammer. Finally, after years of work, the right concept was discovered. It was a simple solution, but, oh, how workable. The process he developed was to make the bottom of the hammerhead smaller than the top and then drive a wedge into the top of the hammer. As long as the wedge was in place, the hammerhead could not come off. In fact, the more pressure applied to the hammerhead to attempt to have it fly off, the more pressure was on the wedge to keep it in place. He had built the world’s greatest hammer. It has become the pattern for most of the hammer manufacturers even to this day. Now, his was not the world’s greatest discovery, but in his own field he became the best.

There are pioneers in the Church today just as strong and courageous. Recently, I interviewed a married couple three days after their release as full-time missionaries in a large metropolis. “We are converts,” they said. “We joined the Church ten years ago. Even though we just completed a mission, we want to go again! But this time, we would like to volunteer for a more difficult assignment. We want to teach and serve children of God who live in remote areas of the world!”
As I countered with the grim realities of their request, they continued their expression of commitment. “Our three children and their spouses will assist with our expenses. Two of those couples have joined the Church already, and the third is equally supportive. Please send us among humble people who love the Lord and desire to know that His Church has again been restored to the earth.” Needless to say, their petition was gratefully heard, and now they have received their second call to missionary service.

My family and I have been members of the Church since I was four years old, and it wasn’t until I was 17 that I discovered the New Era. I saw a few issues before that, but never sat down to read them. I had the mistaken impression that they weren’t very exciting. As seminary class president, I worked closely with my seminary teacher, Sister Reynolds, and found that she read the New Era from cover to cover every month. She was such a fantastic lady that knew there had to be something more to the New Era than I first thought, so I subscribed. I now read the New Era from cover to cover every month, and I enjoy it more than I can express! Thank you, Sister Reynolds, for helping me discover all the wonderful things in the New Era, and thank you, New Era, for being such an uplifting magazine!
Kim GardnerIndianapolis, Indiana

A surprising number of people in British Columbia have joined the Church because of feelings they had on temple grounds. “I’ll never forget the feeling I had when I walked through the gates of Temple Square in Salt Lake City,” Julie Keyes of the Victoria stake says. “It felt like I was walking from darkness into light.” She was impressed by the whole experience—the people she met, the testimony of Joseph Smith, the focus on Jesus Christ. “I thought, ‘I’ve got to find out more about this.’” When she returned home to British Columbia, she called the local LDS meetinghouse and asked to meet with the missionaries.
Sister Keyes, who is now married to the president of the Victoria stake, was at the temple grounds because a member of the Church invited her to come, and she was surprised by the warmth she felt from the members there. In fact, if one common theme characterizes almost every story converts share in British Columbia, it is this: light, joy, and genuine friendliness emanate from members of the Church. Being with members and feeling the Spirit are what motivate them to learn more.

Ruth has a love for children that she gained in part from her own youth. Many of Ruth’s childhood summers were spent in Springville, Utah, with her Aunt Millie Reynolds Martain. Aunt Millie was the midwife for that area, and like the old horse-and-buggy country doctor, many nights—good weather or bad—she would go out to help some new child into the world.

When Ruth was visiting her, Millie would take her along. Ruth would wait outside until the baby had come and then be called in to help give the newborn his first bath.

It was a beautiful tradition that helped teach her reverence for life; she has carried it on with each of her grandchildren. Wherever it happens, when they come into the world, Grandmother Funk is there to welcome them. Her careful attention and investment of time and love has developed into a close relationship with each of her grandchildren.

At that time, our town had only one barbershop, and it had a shoeshine stand in it. When I was 10 and 11, I reigned supreme as the best shoe shiner in town. Some Saturday nights, I got as much as 50 cents for shining a pair of shoes, although most of the time I received a quarter. I was elated with the feelings I experienced in earning my own money for spending and saving.
One lesson I learned from that barber in the town of Moro, Oregon, I have never forgotten. I came in late one day, and I started making up an excuse for my lateness. He got my attention and said, “Look, I’ve been in the army, and I’ve heard every possible excuse. Just tell me the truth, and we’ll get along fine.”
That counsel has stuck with me ever since. Every time I start to make an excuse for a mistake, I remember that nothing is gained with the excuse process. As a result, one of my mottoes is “Don’t make excuses. Either do the job or don’t do the job. When appropriate, express sorrow for not doing the job—but don’t make excuses.”

I love to go sledding, especially on the hill by our house. One day, Mom asked my sisters and me if we would like to go. Of course I said yes. Just as we were leaving, Braiden, one of my best friends, called to see if I could play. I invited him to go sledding with us. He hurried over to my house, and we took off for the hill.
The hill was just as icy and fast as I had hoped it would be. We were having a lot of fun! Then Braiden said his hands were freezing. He had forgotten to bring his gloves. I felt bad that he had such cold hands. I quickly took off my gloves and gave them to him. We kept sledding for another hour or so. My hands were probably freezing, but I didn’t care because I was happy about giving my gloves to a friend. I know Jesus Christ would do the same for His friend. I want to always try to do what He would do. I had the best day ever on the hill because I felt warm inside.

For example, I have a sweet Aunt Beryl Hollindrake. She told me that when she was just three or four years old that my great-grandmother, her Grandmother Featherstone, would hold her on her lap and tell her about the Savior, all the beautiful stories. Then she would recall how my great-grandmother would tell her about the Savior’s trial and how they beat him and cursed him and spit upon him—how they dragged him and forced him against the cross and drove huge spikes into his hands cruelly. She said, “As my grandmother would tell me these stories, tears would stream down her cheeks.” And she said, “It was on the lap of my grandmother that I learned to love the Savior with all my heart and soul.”

I first heard the wonderful story of The Little Engine That Could when I was about 10 years old. As a child, I was interested in the story because the train cars were filled with toy animals, toy clowns, jackknives, puzzles, and books as well as delicious things to eat. However, the engine that was pulling the train over the mountain broke down. The story relates that a big passenger engine came by and was asked to pull the cars over the mountain, but he wouldn’t condescend to pull the little train. Another engine came by, but he wouldn’t stoop to help the little train over the mountain because he was a freight engine. An old engine came by, but he would not help because, he said, “I am so tired. … I can not. I can not. I can not.”

Then a little blue engine came down the track, and she was asked to pull the cars over the mountain to the children on the other side. The little engine responded, “I’m not very big. … They use me only for switching in the yard. I have never been over the mountain.” But she was concerned about disappointing the children on the other side of the mountain if they didn’t get all of the goodies in the cars. So she said, “I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.” And she hooked herself to the little train. “Puff, puff, chug, chug, went the Little Blue Engine. ‘I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can—I think I can.’” With this attitude, the little engine reached the top of the mountain and went down the other side, saying, “I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could. I thought I could.”

An Expression of Kindness
Two young missionaries knocked on a door, hoping to find someone to receive their message. The door opened, and a rather large man greeted them in a less-than-friendly voice: “I thought I told you not to knock on my door again. I warned you before that if you ever came back, it would not be a pleasant experience. Now leave me alone.” He quickly closed the door.
As the elders walked away, the older, more experienced missionary put his arm on the younger missionary’s shoulder to comfort and encourage him. Unknown to them, the man watched them through the window to be sure they understood his message. He fully expected to see them laugh and make light of his curt response to their attempted visit. However, as he witnessed the expression of kindness between the two missionaries, his heart was instantly softened. He reopened the door and asked the missionaries to come back and share their message with him.

Recently I stopped at a grocery store to quickly pick up a few things for dinner. As I turned the corner, I came face to face with an older gentleman. I smiled, as I was relieved that we hadn’t collided. He smiled and said, “Thank you for your smile. I needed it.” I also needed his smile. Smile—it will make a difference for you and for others. What would life be like if we couldn’t give and receive smiles?

Nellie’s father died on October 22, 1856, from hunger and exposure to the cold. Five days later her mother died too. Graves could be dug only in the snow because the early winter had frozen the ground. Nellie and Maggie wearily and sadly walked on alone. They watched as more of the company died and the weather’s cold fierceness strengthened.
One day as Nellie and her sister made their way at the head of the group, two men appeared and motioned for them to come closer. At first the girls refused but soon decided that the men meant no harm. The men gave Nellie some money and instructed her to buy something to put on her feet at the trappers’ trading post they were nearing. Nellie gratefully accepted the money and the chance to cover her bare feet, which had long since grown numb with cold.
In Salt Lake City, President Brigham Young had called for volunteers to meet the handcart company on the plains. When the volunteers finally reached the company, near Laramie, Wyoming, they found the pitiful group nearly buried by the snow. Nellie’s feet were badly frozen. The rescue party gathered her and the remaining members of the company into their wagons and returned to Salt Lake, arriving on November 30.
Nearly everyone in the handcart company had endured painfully frozen feet, hands, and ears and had witnessed the deaths of family members and friends. The doctor had to amputate Nellie’s feet. There was no skin to cushion the bone, so she was left with throbbing sores that never healed.
Nellie and her sister eventually moved south from the Salt Lake Valley to Cedar City. Here Nellie married William Unthank and reared their six children. With a leather apron slid under her damaged legs, Nellie crawled about their small home on her knees, keeping it spotless.
Nellie willingly worked at whatever she could to help provide for her family. Along with other jobs, she took in other people’s clothes to wash, and made articles to sell to add to the family income. If anyone offered food or assistance, she insisted on repaying the favor. As a way of showing gratitude, she gathered her children once a year to clean the church meetinghouse. While the boys carried water, the girls washed windows, and Nellie scrubbed the floors.
William carved wooden “cup feet” for Nellie, but they only irritated her never-healing stumps. Later, through donations, wooden legs were given to Nellie, but these she only wore on special occasions, because they added to her constant pain.
Despite poverty and pain, Nellie rarely complained. She had come to know her Heavenly Father in her sufferings. From the shoes provided for her bare feet, the carriage sent when she couldn’t go on, help given to her through a lifetime of affliction, Nellie Pucell Unthank knew she could count on the Lord.

About a year after the death of our baby, we moved and I was assigned to minister to a young couple with two children. The older daughter had contracted an infection while in the womb and was born with a severe mental disability. Although she was nine years old at the time, she was like an infant developmentally. It was a struggle for the young family, who had limited means.
One day I received a phone call telling me she had died during the night. No member of the bishopric was available to visit just then, so I was asked to visit until they could get there. I arrived as her body was being removed, and I had a chance to talk with the father. The wife’s ministering sister arrived and did an amazing job comforting the family and taking care of the home.
I went with the father to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I suppose I was able to render some service because of my prior experiences. I don’t consider myself a great ministering brother, but I was glad I wasn’t a stranger in that home.

Jim Turner, an artist from the Lismore Ward in the Gold Coast Australia Stake, has achieved a milestone in his artistic journey. His oil painting The 1988 Bicentennial Naval Review will soon be on permanent display at the Royal Australian Navy Heritage Centre, the Maritime Museum of the Royal Australian Navy in Sydney. This monumental work, measuring 12 feet (3.6 m) long by 5 feet (1.5 m) high, includes a life-size portrait of Vice Admiral M. W. Hudson, who served as the Chief of Naval Staff in 1988.
Born in New South Wales, Brother Turner felt inspired by this event, recognizing its importance to Australian history. He was determined to create a work of art that would capture not only the grandeur of the naval review but also the spirit of unity it evoked.
Completed on November 4, 1988, The 1988 Bicentennial Naval Review was publicly exhibited only once, during a week-long exhibition that opened on December 3, 1988, by Senator Bronwyn Bishop. For years afterward, the painting awaited a permanent home where it could be appreciated by the public.
In 2024, Brother Turner was inspired to find a suitable home for his work. Through persistence and prayer, he contacted the Royal Australian Navy Heritage Centre. Although the museum was undergoing renovations, the centre accepted the painting for display in its new facility, which reopened in February 2025.
The museum will include Jim’s painting among its exhibits documenting the history of the Royal Australian Navy, from the First Fleet to the present day. Brother Turner’s painting will enrich the museum’s collection and the public’s understanding of this pivotal moment in Australia’s maritime history.
Brother Turner’s journey with this painting is a testimony of faith, persistence, and divine guidance.
Brother Turner reflects on the role of divine guidance throughout his journey. “I felt prompted to find a suitable home for people to view my painting of the Bicentennial Naval Review,” he said. “I have a firm testimony that if we do all that we possibly can, the Lord will provide the way and the means for us to accomplish whatever He has asked us to do.”
For Brother Turner, this painting is more than a depiction of a national event; it is a manifestation of faith and perseverance. He likens this experience to life’s daily challenges: “Be it a major work, like a 12-foot-long painting, or just completing simple daily tasks, [life is] made easier through the guidance of the Spirit.”
Brother Turner’s story is a reminder that God can magnify our talents to fulfil His purposes. Whether capturing a historic event on canvas or fulfilling a spiritual prompting to preserve it for others, his journey stands as a powerful example of trusting in the Lord’s timing and guidance. It proves that the Lord’s hand is evident in every aspect of our lives.