Gospel Story Finder

An interesting way to practice what is preached about etiquette was discovered by the youth of the Murray Third Ward in Utah. An evening’s lesson on social awareness was given to Laurels and Explorers. A week later a full-scale formal dinner was hosted by MIA leaders and the bishopric. In a lovely home a long table was covered with fine linen, and crystal, silverware, and complete china settings were laid. Guests came in their party best. Boys had called the girls on the telephone properly for the date. Boys attended to the girls’ needs and even gave their “orders” to the waiters (members of the bishopric!). At the end of the evening each was warmly appreciative, seeking the hosts out to express thanks. (An extra touch of niceness is a note of thanks the following day.)

It was such a successful event that now everyone is wondering what they can learn next that they can put into practice with as much fun.

“I came home from a school concert and my house was on fire,” said a Laurel from Dingle, Idaho.
“The dogs barking woke us, and the house was full of smoke,” said another Dingle resident.
And still another, “When I went into the kitchen, flames were shooting out of the wall plug.”
The sight of flames devouring the homes of their neighbors became an all-too-familiar sight to the 200 residents of this southeastern Idaho community last winter. Despite the efforts of the volunteer fire department from the nearby town of Montpelier, three homes in Dingle burned to the ground within a few months.
The town members of Dingle were there with clothing, blankets, and food to help the victims, and right in the middle were the Young Women from the Dingle Ward, Montpelier Idaho Stake. Under the leadership of the Laurels, the girls tied a quilt for one family, held a surprise kitchen shower for another family, and gave the proceeds from a baked food sale to the third family. They also raised money to send to a former Dingle resident whose home burned in Utah.
In addition, they were always ready to help with any cleaning up and clearing out they were asked to do.
“You realize how much you need one another at a time like this,” softly spoke one of the fire victims. “Everybody’s been so good to us; I’ve decided that from now on I’m going to sacrifice more of my time and do more things for other people.”
The Young Women in Dingle have discovered the feelings of fulfillment that can come from doing just that. And while they hope they won’t have occasion to help in the same way again, they’ll be there if needed.

Let me illustrate: Several years ago, while teaching a course in American literature at Brigham Young University, I assigned a famous novel, a book familiar to many students, a book that I found to be, when I first read it after my mission, a thought-provoking, stimulating, uplifting, and essentially spiritual book, a book of “good report.” I had read and studied the book without feeling my delicate relationship with the Holy Spirit bruised in the least. I was surprised, then, when a lovely young female student approached me after class, with tears in her eyes, to confess that the first few pages of the book had so upset her that she could not continue reading what she felt to be indecent literature. Although it was not what I considered an “indecent” book, by any standard, I saw that her relationship with the Holy Spirit had apparently been harmed by exposure to this book, and I promptly asked her to read, instead, another book by the same author. Still concerned about the assignment, I queried other students. At their various levels of development they had found the book generally unobjectionable. Indeed, one of the students, a returned missionary, thanked me for the opportunity of reading the book, for he had met many people in his missionary experiences who resembled characters in the book, and the novel had opened to him, he insisted, new insights into those people and new vistas regarding life in general. The occasionally earthy (not obscene) language had not troubled him, for he had heard such language and dismissed it; instead, he had thrilled to the portrait that the author had penned of children of God on a troubled journey through a life full of wrong turns and dead ends that arose because the characters were having to learn, the hard way, of the need to be in harmony with eternal principles. The young man was ready for the book. In fact, when I told him of his classmate’s response to the novel, he asked, “Have we both been reading the same book?”

The book was as different as the experience that each student brought to it. The young lady was on a level of development that prevented her from seeing beyond some of the rawness described in the work; the alternate selection was more suited for her personal development, and she was delighted by her insights into that novel. Perhaps there would come a point when she would be ready for the other book. There had surely been a point in the returned missionary’s life, as in mine, when we, too, would have been unable to see beyond some of the rawness of life as depicted in the book to the genuine beauty and truth of the work. The young lady was right in rejecting the book. The returned missionary was right in reading it. Finding that self-understanding which enables us to make careful and proper selections which will not discourage the Holy Spirit from remaining with us is part of reaching for spiritual maturity. Enroute to such maturity, most of us make some mistakes, along with a lot of right decisions.

Let me give you my own experience. While serving as president of the Calgary Stake in Alberta, Canada, I was attending the general conference in Salt Lake City in October, 1960. On Friday evening I received a call at my hotel advising me that President McKay wanted to see me Saturday morning—the next morning. Naturally, not knowing what he wanted, I slept very little that night. I met him in his office at the appointed hour. As I sat in a chair facing him, he looked me in the eye, put his hand on my knee, and said, “President Tanner, the Lord would like you to accept a call as a General Authority, as an Assistant to the Twelve.” Then he asked how I felt about it.

I do not know exactly what I said. I tried to assure him that I felt highly honored and very inadequate, but ready and willing to accept a call and to give my whole time and effort in the service of the Lord.

That morning my name was read, along with the names of Elders Franklin D. Richards and Theodore M. Burton, to be sustained as Assistants to the Twelve, with the other general officers of the Church. We were approved by the conference. Officers throughout the Church are selected in much the same way at their particular level.

Sister Bednar and I are acquainted with a returned missionary who had dated a special young woman for a period of time. He cared for her very much, and he was desirous of making his relationship with her more serious. He was considering and hoping for engagement and marriage. This relationship was developing during the time that President Hinckley counseled the Relief Society sisters and young women of the Church to wear only one earring in each ear.

The young man waited patiently over a period of time for the young woman to remove her extra earrings, but she did not take them out. This was a valuable piece of information for this young man, and he felt unsettled about her nonresponsiveness to a prophet’s pleading. For this and other reasons, he ultimately stopped dating the young woman, because he was looking for an eternal companion who had the courage to promptly and quietly obey the counsel of the prophet in all things and at all times. The young man was quick to observe that the young woman was not quick to observe.

I presume that some of you might have difficulty with my last example. You may believe the young man was too judgmental or that basing an eternally important decision, even in part, upon such a supposedly minor issue is silly or fanatical. Perhaps you are bothered because the example focuses upon a young woman who failed to respond to prophetic counsel instead of upon a young man. I simply invite you to consider and ponder the power of being quick to observe and what was actually observed in the case I just described. The issue was not earrings!

In 2007, Daniel Kola was called as an Area Seventy. The next year, he travelled to Utah to attend general conference and was blessed to attend the temple an additional five times to perform initiatory, endowment, and sealing ordinances for his ancestors, including being sealed to his own parents. “When I received my endowment, there was a lot I didn’t understand,” Kola reflected. “But today, I understand, and my knowledge is much more profound.”

On the second Sunday in July, just three weeks after I had received the Aaronic Priesthood, Trixie and I were rushing to complete my paper route so I could attend priesthood meeting. At a full gallop, she ran into some fencing wire which had been carelessly left on the ground. Her feet tangled, and she fell down with me. Newspapers were scattered all over. Yet Trixie stood by until the milkman found me some time later lying unconscious on the ground. I woke up 18 hours later in a hospital in Evanston, Wyoming, the closest hospital to our home. My leg had been badly broken, which forced me to use a wheelchair and crutches for the next six months. Trixie willingly continued her work during the next months with my younger brother on her back. He and she filled my responsibility to my newspaper customers without a single complaint from either.

For Aileen Akagi, 17, the word crèche doesn’t remind her of only one nativity scene—it reminds her of roughly 600 of them! As a member of the Midway Fourth Ward, Midway Utah Stake, she has volunteered at the Interfaith Crèche Exhibit for three years in a row.
“It’s interesting to see the different styles of nativity scenes,” Aileen says. Seeing how diverse cultures portray the Christ child’s birth reminds her of how well-known the Christmas story is.
Volunteers set up the exhibits, monitor them, and lead children’s activities. Although Aileen has done a little of each, she spends most of her time running the marionette show for children. She organizes young women into groups who perform scenes from the Nativity with puppets. The show runs every 20 minutes.
“The first year we did the marionette show, one little boy brought his grandma to see it four times in a row,” Aileen laughs.
Throughout the show, the young women and audience sing Christmas songs. “One year, we finished by singing ‘Silent Night’ (Hymns, no. 204), and all the children and their parents joined in. It sounded like more than the audience was there—like angels were singing.”

Our sacrament meeting had just begun when the phone in the foyer began ringing. Someone seated nearby answered it, then walked up to the stand to talk with our bishop during the opening hymn. The bishop walked out and then came back in, whispered to his counselors, and sat back down. The invocation was offered, and announcements were given.
Again the phone rang, and the bishop was summoned. When he came back in, he whispered to his counselors and left. One of the bishop’s counselors motioned to the chorister to pause and stood to explain the disruption. He told us our bishop needed to be excused because a wide section of his cattle pasture was on fire. If not brought under control, the fire might threaten homes in the area.
At those words, one man stood up and left to help the bishop. Over the next few minutes, several men got up one by one and excused themselves from their families. Obviously moved by this outpouring of love for our bishop, the counselor announced that any men or teenage boys who were not participating in the meeting could be excused. We lived in a small rural town with only a volunteer fire department, and we didn’t want to wait for the fire department to get there.
Our ward choir, of which I was a member, was singing as part of the program. As a priest, I had also been asked to help bless the sacrament. After some commotion of men and boys leaving, the sacrament hymn was sung and we blessed the bread.
I had wanted to leave with the rest. I wanted the bishop to know of my love for him, but as the meeting progressed, I was glad to have stayed. The meeting changed even more when it became clear that one of our speakers had left as well. Thanks to the leadership of a bishop’s counselor, impromptu speaking filled the gaps. When the choir sang, only two male voices were left—I sang bass while my dad sang tenor.
Our congregation was cut by a full third that day as its members practiced what they had been taught: to love one another and to serve each other where needed most. The Spirit of the Holy Ghost was so strong in our chapel.
Those who remained longed to help fight the fire but remained to serve in other ways, as our bishop would have wanted. Those at the fire reaped a reward of service and an outpouring of love. Those left behind were rewarded with an incredible manifestation of the Holy Spirit.
The blaze wasn’t a forest fire by any means. Flames were never higher than 10 feet, but the size of the area engulfed had made the fire uncontrollable for one man.
Can you imagine the feelings in our bishop’s heart as he fought the fire alone, getting one area under control only to have flames flare up in another? Then through the smoke came good and dear friends to stand at his side.
Men and boys, still wearing white shirts and ties, hunkered against the blaze like a royal army. They wielded shovels against the flames; they flung wet burlap sacks on top of the grass in an attempt to smother the fire. At the hands of so many, victory was swift and complete.
Then, as the last flickers of flame were extinguished, a great fellowshipping occurred. Fathers and sons compared notes on the fire. Old friends talked together. The bishop moved from group to group, thanking everyone. Hearts were bound together as one in a bond of priesthood brotherhood.
The next Sunday at church, those who fought the fire came in the same white shirts, washed and clean. Those of us who had remained at church gathered around to hear their stories. Both groups were blessed by the events of that day as we saw gospel service given in two distinct ways.

When I was 11 years old, I had a wonderful Primary teacher. One day in class, she walked in on a discussion among us 11-year-old boys about our mothers and how tough they were on us. Our mothers would insist that we make our beds, help with the dishes, take out the garbage, and even help with other housework.
Our teacher said nothing but went ahead with our lesson. At the end of the class, she said that on the coming Saturday morning we were going to have a special activity at her house.
That Saturday, we peddled our bicycles to her home. She gathered us around her dining room table where she had some liquids in bottles. She also had small, empty bottles for each of us. We poured so much of this and so much of that through a funnel into our bottles. We learned that we were making hand lotion for our mothers.
When we finished, our teacher gave us a small piece of paper on which she had written a verse. We each copied it down and taped the verse onto our bottles. We proudly took the lotion home to our mothers as a gift.
My mother was wise so, instead of using the lotion, she put it on the middle shelf of our bathroom’s medicine cabinet. It remained there through all my teenage years. Every day, as I opened that cabinet to get my toothbrush or comb, there on the shelf was the bottle with that handwritten verse. It was still there the day I combed my hair before leaving for my mission.
That verse impacted my life permanently. It said, “Bless the hands that never tire in their loving care for me.” That message, which I read every day, drove deep into my heart love, respect, and appreciation for my mom.

During her first year at school, when she lived with four roommates, Fleur had a hard time finding time alone to pray and study scriptures. “There wasn’t much privacy to pray, unless I got in the dorm early. The other option was to pray in the bathroom. It wasn’t the greatest place, but it was private.”

Fleur makes time for gospel study because, she says, “reading the scriptures daily for seminary helps me to live Church principles away from home.” Fortunately, this year Fleur has her own room, making it easier for her to pray and study.

As we reach out in service to Father in Heaven’s sons and daughters, our faith will increase. I know of a young man named Gofaone Lebang who joined the church when he was about 16 years old. There was something unique about this young man; he was born with a physical disability, which meant that he was wheelchair bound ever since he was a baby. Brother Lebang has always been a very vibrant and faith-filled disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. At the age of twenty he made the decision to serve a service mission. He was called to the Johannesburg South Africa Mission. One could not ask for a more positive individual. He always had something uplifting to say to all he came in contact with. I later had the opportunity to serve with him in the same elders quorum presidency and then on the high council. Through the years, I never once heard him complain or murmur about his physical disability but instead have always watched him move forward with faith. His willingness to serve increased the faith of all who served with and around him. Many years later he is still the same; he reaches out and ministers to others in different ways.

Brother Bollbach’s new skills gave him the confidence to start on his next goal—helping others like himself succeed. With the help of government funding, Brother Bollbach set up a workshop to teach woodcarving to people with visual impairments. He had many wonderful experiences in the workshop. One in particular stands out in his memory. It was two weeks before Christmas, and he was alone. Brother Bollbach was carving a special present for his wife—the model of an elk. He finished the elk’s body and thin legs with ease, but carving the eyes seemed impossible.
“I decided to stand up,” he says. “As I walked around the workshop, I began to sing my favorite hymn, ‘I Need Thee Every Hour.’ I prayed to God out loud for help, and again I sang.” After singing for more than an hour, Brother Bollbach picked up the knife and wood. But he still couldn’t carve the eyes. “What should I do? Shall I give up?” he asked himself. “No, Fritz, don’t give up. Try it again,” he told himself. However, he still could not hold the knife steady enough to carve the eyes. He stood up again and walked around for another hour.
“I sang, I cried, and I prayed for some time,” he recalls. “I thought of the many blessings the Lord had given me. I then took the knife again, and with my hands shaking, I carved the eyes and within minutes finished the whole head.”

Home teaching carries with it unique challenges when Melchizedek Priesthood brothers are given as companions Aaronic Priesthood brothers who are busy with school activities, jobs, and friends. Sometimes they haven’t yet experienced enough of home teaching to understand the impact or importance of the assignment. It is crucial to train them properly and involve them as equals.
“One day my companion, Jared Barrott, is going to be the one in charge,” observes Rick Youngblood, a member of the Hixson Ward, Chattanooga Tennessee Stake. “He was just ordained a teacher, but he already understands that as a home teacher, his calling is to look out for the members of our ward.”
Brother Youngblood and Jared take turns presenting the monthly message. In addition, the two have compiled a list of all the birthdays and anniversaries celebrated by the six families they home teach. “We get together every month and write a note for special occasions,” Brother Youngblood says. “Then Jared mails them. And I always ask him for ideas on how we can better meet the needs of our families and help the families feel the Spirit.”

Years ago, I once tried to persuade my friends at school to not do their homework because I hadn’t done mine. I was in the wrong, but I thought that if we all got in trouble, I would somehow feel better about myself. My poor behaviour reminds me of Satan’s attitude toward us. Because he is miserable, he wants to spoil our potential for eternal life.
Satan is so distorted by his bitterness that he—even knowing he will ultimately fail—desperately attempts to “spread the works of darkness” (Helaman 6:28), to harm as many of us as he can.

An American naturalist was once walking along the seashore looking for interesting specimens of sea life. His attention was attracted to a large, strange-looking object lying ahead of him out a little way in the water. Upon examination he found that it was an immense bird, an American eagle, with a large steel trap snapped onto one foot. Three hundred miles away, on a rugged mountain slope, this great American eagle, the symbol of freedom, the emblem of power and courage, had soared down out of the sky to pick up an enticing piece of bait. In the process of getting the bait, the eagle had put his foot into the jaws of a vicious steel trap. Then the noble bird had struggled with all his might. He had jerked and pulled and fought until he had finally broken the chain and had flown away with the trap to which a part of the chain was still attached.
The eagle had regained enough of his freedom to fly 300 miles away. But he was still fatally handicapped. He must continue to endure the torment of the trap’s steel jaws relentlessly biting into his leg. In addition to the constant pain, he was now unable to maintain the old-time association with his companions. He was also severely handicapped in obtaining his food and maintaining his spirit. After weeks of suffering and exhaustion, this great eagle, worn out by struggle, famished by hunger, sickened by loneliness, and tortured by despair, had fallen into the margin of the sea to die, with the trap still biting into his broken, festering foot.

Teacher council meetings are helping Sandra Cattell (center) improve her teaching abilities.
I’m fairly old, so when I was called to teach the Young Women, I thought, “My goodness! I wonder why they’ve called me?”
I put a lot of effort into preparing lessons appropriate for the young women’s needs, and I hoped they would be willing to share what they have learned and what they have done with it during the week. But my questions were often met with silence.
In one of our ward’s first teacher council meetings, one of the teachers said she too was finding it difficult to get the youth to communicate during the lessons. Another teacher in the meeting said, “Well, you can allow silence, you see.” Sometimes people need a little time to think about a question before answering.
That comment in teacher council meeting made a difference not only in the way I teach but for my students as well. I thought a lot about it. In my next Young Women lesson, I asked the class what gospel principle they had applied during the week. As usual, there was silence. But instead of immediately jumping in to fill the silence, I remembered our teacher council discussion and quietly said, “There’s no rush.”
The moment I said that, the conversation started to flow. The young women started to open up, and they shared some tender experiences. I immediately wanted to thank the teacher who had made that simple comment in teacher council meeting about silence. I was amazed how practicing that one principle had such a big difference so quickly.
But I didn’t realize until later what a difference that and other principles I’ve been learning are making. After church the mother of one of the young women told me that her daughter had said she knows that I’ve been called of God.
I can’t tell you how special hearing that comment was to me. There I was thinking, “What have I got to teach these young women?” But I must be teaching them something. I’m called for a purpose, and teacher council meetings are helping me fulfill that purpose.

For my second example I turn to the release of a stake president in Star Valley, Wyoming, the late E. Francis Winters. He had served faithfully for the lengthy term of 23 years. Though modest by nature and circumstances, he had been a perpetual pillar of strength to everyone in the valley. On the day of the stake conference, the building was filled to overflowing. Each heart seemed to be saying a silent “thank you” to this noble leader who had given so unselfishly of his life for the benefit of others.
As I stood to speak following the reorganization of the stake presidency, I was prompted to respond in a manner totally new to me. I stated how long Francis Winters had presided in the stake; then I asked all whom he had blessed or confirmed as children to stand and remain standing. Next I asked all those persons whom President Winters had ordained, set apart, personally counseled, or blessed to please stand. The result was electrifying. Every person in the audience stood. Tears flowed freely, tears that communicated better than could words the gratitude of tender hearts. I turned to President and Sister Winters and said, “We are witnesses today of the prompting of the Spirit. This vast throng reflects not only individual feelings but also the gratitude of God for a life well lived.”

As an 11-year-old, I prepared for my first real babysitting job, and I didn’t quite know what to expect. As I entered the home I became a little nervous at the sight of cigarettes on the table and various containers of alcohol on the kitchen counter.

As the mom explained the basic babysitting procedures for her children, she also asked me where I went to school and what my favorite subjects were. Then she asked what church I went to. At that moment I froze. I didn’t know how to answer because I didn’t know what kind of reaction I would get from someone who obviously didn’t live by LDS standards. I tried to pretend I didn’t hear her, and I continued to prepare the baby’s crib for her nap. A little louder and more curious, she asked again, “Where do you go to church?”

I turned around slowly and with my head slightly lowered whispered, “I’m Mormon.” Although my response was barely audible, she knew exactly what I said. Contrary to what I was expecting, this woman began to reprimand me for lacking the confidence to be proud of being a Mormon. Although I don’t remember her exact words, I do remember her sharing stories about all the Mormons she had encountered in her life and how wonderful they were. She lectured me about standing up for what I believe in, holding my head up high, and being proud to be a Latter-day Saint.

The rest of the evening I babysat and pondered this woman’s words. I knew that if I was going to be a good member of the Church, I had to give it my all. I don’t remember how much money I made that evening or even how long I babysat, but I do know that once you discover you have a testimony, you have to stand up for what you know is right.

That kind of unity among the Seventy and their wives has great power. I remember being on assignment in Japan and traveling between cities with Elder Yoon Hwan and Sister Bon Choi, then serving in the Asia North Area Presidency. I knew of a problem in their home country of Korea, and I brought it up. After I prodded her a little, Sister Choi told me of the serious nature of the problem. She then made suggestions that proved extremely helpful in finding a solution.