Gospel Story Finder

Jeff Blanchard, Dave’s older brother, carried items from a tag (yard) sale back into a man’s garage and stacked the boxes against the wall. “The guy asked for my phone number so he could call me anytime he wanted me to do some work for him,” said Jeff.

A friend recently asked me for a Book of Mormon. When it came time for me to give it to him, I was afraid that it wasn’t a good time for it. As I prepared to give the Book of Mormon to him, a scripture kept coming to my mind: “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ” (Rom 1:16). I know that “I’m Not Ashamed” (Jan. 1999) is what gave me the strength to follow through. If it wasn’t for this article, I may not have had the courage to introduce the Book of Mormon to him.
Sarah DaviesDouglasville, Georgia

I have just started reading the New Era cover to cover, and there are two stories that have really helped me. They are “Reach Out and Climb” and “Harmer Accidents” in the August 1985 issue.
Lately I have been going through very trying times, and when I read “Reach Out and Climb,” it gave me the extra help I needed to choose the right. “Harmer Accidents” made me realize how insincere we get when we pray, so now I pray more sincerely and meaningfully.
Devera EddingtonSandy, Utah

The mindless and reckless speeding of a youth-filled car down a winding and hazardous canyon road can bring a sudden loss of control, the careening of the car with its precious cargo over the precipice, and the downward plunge that ofttimes brings permanent incapacity, perhaps premature death, and grieving hearts of loved ones. The glee-filled moment can turn in an instant to a lifetime of regret.
Oh, precious youth, please give life a chance. Apply the virtue of patience.

If we have charity, we also gladly receive. When one energetic sister became ill, she didn’t want anyone to serve her. But her wise bishop counseled: “Remember that we assist others when we receive their offers of help graciously. Let these people be blessed by helping you.”

About 10 years ago I felt impressed to paint a portrait of the Savior. Though I am an artist, this felt a bit overwhelming. How was I to paint a portrait of Jesus Christ that captured His Spirit? Where was I to begin? And where would I find the time?
Even with my questions, I decided to move forward and trust that the Lord would help me. But I had to keep moving and leave the possibilities to Him. I prayed, pondered, researched, and sketched and was blessed to find help and resources. And what was a white canvas started to become something more.
The process wasn’t easy. Sometimes it didn’t look as I had hoped. Sometimes there were moments of inspired strokes and ideas. And many times, I just had to try again and again and again.
When I thought the oil painting was finally complete and dry, I began to apply a transparent varnish to protect it from dirt and dust. As I did, I noticed the hair in the painting start to change, smear, and dissolve. I quickly realized that I had applied the varnish too soon, that part of the painting was still wet!
I had literally wiped away a portion of my painting with the varnish. Oh, how my heart sank. I felt as though I had just destroyed what God had helped me to do. I cried and felt sick inside. In despair, I did what anyone would typically do in a situation like this: I called my mother. She wisely and calmly said, “You won’t get back what you had, but do the very best you can with what you’ve got.”
And I Partook, by Kristin M. Yee
So I prayed and pled for help and painted through the night to repair things. And I remember looking at the painting in the morning—it looked better than it did before. How was that possible? What I thought was a mistake without mend was an opportunity for His merciful hand to be manifest. He was not done with the painting, and He was not done with me. What joy and relief filled my heart. I praised the Lord for His mercy, for this miracle that not only saved the painting but taught me more about His love and power to save each of us from our mistakes, weaknesses, and sins and to help us become something more.

The inspired instructions from the First Presidency and the Council of the Twelve Apostles become scripture. Each Thursday they meet in the Salt Lake Temple, where decisions are made to further the kingdom of God. The experience of Elder John A. Widtsoe, a member of the Council of the Twelve, illustrates an important point. When asked when the last revelation was received by the Church, he replied that it was probably last Thursday.

Looking at the dark side of things always leads to a spirit of pessimism which so often leads to defeat. If ever there was a man who gave encouragement to a nation in its time of deepest distress it was British Prime Minister Winston Churchill. It was during World War II. Bombs were falling on London, England. Nazi troops had conquered Austria, Czechoslovakia, France, Belgium, Holland, Norway, and were moving into Russia. Most of Europe was in the grasp of tyranny, and England was to be the next victim. In that dangerous hour, when the hearts of many were failing, Churchill spoke:
“Do not let us speak of darker days; let us speak rather of sterner days. These are not dark days: these are great days—the greatest days our country has ever lived; and we must all thank God that we have been allowed, each of us according to our position in life, to play a part in making these days memorable in the history of our race.” (Address at Harrow School, England, 29 October 1941.)
A year earlier, following the terrible military disaster at Dunkirk, France, when Britain tried to invade Europe and beat back the enemy, many prophets of doom foretold the end of Britain. But in that dark and solemn hour this remarkable man, Churchill, said, and I heard him say these words as they were broadcast to the world: “We shall not weaken or fail … we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” (Speech in British Parliament, London, England, 4 June 1940.)
It was this kind of talk, which saw victory distantly through the dark clouds of war, and not the critical faultfinding of pessimists, that preserved the people of Britain and saved that nation from catastrophe.

Like Richelle, Whitney Brown from Poway, California, found comfort after expressing her needs and concerns in her prayers.

“Moving was a very difficult experience for me; however, through prayer, I was able to know of my Heavenly Father’s love for me and His awareness of my situation. I felt my Father’s love as I never had before, and it made going much easier. I knew that He was always there for me to talk to.”

My sister Heidi loves the sacrament. That always impresses me because she doesn’t like to eat bread or drink water. Heidi was born with a serious physical problem called cerebral palsy. She can’t hear or talk. She can’t sit up alone or walk. She can only use her hands very awkwardly.
Her mouth and stomach muscles are so tight that eating hurts, and she has hated it every since I can remember. She gets fed through a tube in her stomach while she sleeps at night.
We offer her food when we’re eating, but nine times out of ten she will shake her head no and tightly shut her mouth. Even on her birthdays, when we have her favorite—cheesecake—she usually refuses to eat it. Mom will help her hold a spoon and scoop up some of the cheesecake. Heidi smiles the whole time. But when Mom tries to get it to her mouth, Heidi frowns and pushes the spoon toward Mom’s mouth and feeds her the cheesecake instead.
But in Heidi’s twelve years of life, I have never once seen her frown or close her mouth to the sacrament. We’ve tried giving her little pieces of bread and sips of water at other times, but she’ll never take them.
It has taken me a while to figure out this mystery, but I think I finally have. Heidi likes the sacrament because it isn’t just food. Since she can’t talk, it’s hard for me to know how much she knows about Jesus Christ. I don’t know if she understands that He was born in a stable or that He died on the cross. I guess for Heidi that really doesn’t matter. What is important for her to know about Jesus Christ, Heidi understands. She knows she needs this bread and water in her life. I wish you could see her smile when she takes the sacrament.
I don’t take the sacrament for granted, thanks to my sister Heidi. I know I need it too.
Note: Shortly after this story was written, Heidi died from complications due to her cerebral palsy. The way she attempted to take the sacrament was a miracle to all around her, and we wanted to share it with you.

After about 35 years of corporate life, Chris had started his own small business in 2003. His family circumstances did not make it possible to serve a full-time mission with his wife. He added, “I decided the time was right to direct effort to serving my community more widely. During those early days of pondering what I should do, someone from the local political establishment came knocking on my door in 2005. The rest is minor history.”
Chris was inspired by Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008), who in a conference address in April 2000, when aged 90 (five years after becoming President of the Church), declared of David B. Haight (1906-2004), a member of the Council of Twelve Apostles, who was then 94, “I am an old man trying to catch up with Brother Haight! I’m given to meditation and prayer. I would enjoy sitting in a rocker, swallowing prescriptions, listening to soft music, and contemplating the things of the universe. But such activity offers no challenge and makes no contribution.
“I wish to be up and doing. I wish to face each day with resolution and purpose. I wish to use every waking hour to give encouragement, to bless those whose burdens are heavy, to build faith and strength of testimony [in the Saviour].”1
Chris hopes to echo President Hinckley’s wish to be up and doing while still in his somewhat-young 75+ age group. He adds, “Like all of us, I need purpose—achieving something that is worthwhile. I have found serving as borough councillor to provide some of this.” Chris said of the reading from Matthew 6:1–4 given by young Sister Eliza Brecheisen, that “it always reminds me that when we give our time and resources to help others, that God expects us to do it without broadcasting what we do. He knows what we do. As I serve publicly as mayor, I always try to keep that message uppermost in my mind.” Young Brother Aaron Yoosuf’s scripture reading from 2 Corinthians 9:6–7, reminded Chris to cheerfully do his very best while he has the health, strength and will to do so.
Brother Woodward has chosen as his mayoral theme, The Rising Generation, a phrase well known in the Church. He wants to make sure that the voice of the rising generation of the Tunbridge Wells Borough is heard by local civic and community leaders. He is working to form a forum for young people in the borough, drawing in representatives from year 10–13 students in fourteen local secondary schools.
He has also chosen to do all he can to raise funds for the local charity, Mental Health Resource, which supports both adults and young people with mental health concerns.

At Deseret Press, Brother Monson helped President J. Reuben Clark Jr. prepare his manuscript Our Lord of the Gospels for publication. They met regularly for months in President Clark’s office. The relationship that developed between them was almost that of father and son. When Thomas S. Monson was called to preside over the Canadian Mission, he took Frances and the children to visit President Clark. As Frances was carrying her third child, the Monsons said it would be named after him were it a boy. When told the child would be called Clark, the president urged, “Don’t be afraid of ‘Joshua Reuben.’” When Clark Spencer Monson was born in Toronto, Canada, the parents informed President Clark by wire. He responded with a classic letter (a Monson family treasure) addressed to the baby.

But they would tell more than this story when they talked of Catherine. Born 7 January 1855, sixteen months after her parents, who were pioneers, arrived in Salt Lake, Catherine was seven years old when her family was called to help settle Saint George in southern Utah. Catherine remembers that first Christmas in southern Utah. In her stocking, she found a few pieces of molasses candy, some raisins, and a slice from an apple that her mother had brought all the way from Salt Lake City. Her father carved thirteen dolls, and an artistic neighbor painted hair and faces on them. That Christmas, Catherine and twelve other little girls had dolls.

“I have been thrilled to see the amazing changes that have taken place in my family since we accepted the gospel,” says Mia Maid class president Lucy Ruiz. “My parents aren’t the same people as when we were of the world. They have changed a great deal and so have I. Now there is a greater union. There has been a wonderful change in the love we show one another.”

When we opened the work in the Philippines in 1961, our little meeting included one native Filipino member of the Church. Today, there are 263,000 members of record in that nation, organized into forty-four stakes of Zion, with many buildings and a beautiful temple. It is all a process of finding and teaching men who are amenable to the Holy Spirit. They accept baptism, a few of them. They remain faithful and grow in knowledge and understanding, and before many years have passed, we have bishops and stake presidents, mission presidents, patriarchs, temple presidents. It is the wondrous miracle of this work.

Ben Bradley, 13, was on one of these crews. He and his father, sister, and brother drove seven hours each way from Albany, Georgia, to Gulfport, Mississippi, making the trip several times. “We wanted to help,” Ben says. “I learned that all it takes is a willingness to pitch in, and Mormons are good at that.” Often crews would complete a work order at a member’s house and then perform similar tasks in other houses or yards in the neighborhood. The Church was widely recognized for its ability to help its own members and its willingness to help others, too.

While I was on my mission in Taiwan, one Christmas I was feeling a little discouraged. I knew that Christmas should be about remembering the Savior and sharing the gospel, but I was looking forward to getting a package from home and going to the annual mission Christmas Eve celebration to help bring some Christmas cheer into my life. Although the other missionaries in my apartment had already received large packages, by Christmas Eve I still had not received anything.

I was feeling pretty miserable as my companion and I rode our bikes through pouring rain to the mission office to meet up for the celebration. I hoped that a package would be waiting for me, but when we arrived, not only were there no packages, but there were also no missionaries. We were late enough that the other missionaries had already left for the party. I don’t believe I’d ever felt so empty, so depressed, and so utterly alone. It did not feel like Christmas.

Sitting in the dark, all I could think about was how lonely and miserable I felt. Tears started to fall.

Then I heard the familiar sound of a motorcycle outside. It was the evening mail delivery. I looked out and saw the mailman carrying a package to the mission office.

To my surprise, the package was addressed to me. It was from the young women of my home ward. Inside I found the most wonderful, crushed, delicious, three-week-old chocolate chip cookies I’d ever tasted! They were like manna from heaven. My companion and I ate them together, with smiles on our faces and a little more of the Christmas spirit in our hearts.

The young women who put together that package probably had no idea how much it would lift the spirits of a discouraged missionary clear across the Pacific Ocean. The true meaning of Christmas focuses on our Savior, and the Christmas gift from those young women served as a gentle reminder to me that God is aware of our simple struggles. I have since learned even more that there’s much more to Christmas than merely receiving gifts. But to this day, that simple package has been one of the most meaningful Christmas gifts I have received, and it’s one I will never forget.

While I was performing the ordinances for Olga in the temple, one word kept coming to my mind: mission. But I was puzzled—I was busy raising three children by myself, and I couldn’t possibly go on a mission.
The answer came several months later. One day my cousin Renzo told me that Olga’s mother, my aunt Anita, had passed away. Suddenly I recalled that I had completed the temple work for Olga on a Tuesday, and her mother had passed away the following Friday. With great emotion, I felt impressed that Olga had been eager to receive her temple ordinances so she could welcome and teach her mother in the spirit world. Perhaps that was Olga’s mission.

“‘One of the easiest ways to identify a true follower of Jesus Christ is how compassionately that person treats other people.’ Since praying about this President Nelson quote, I’ve been able to minister to my friends to help them feel my Savior’s love.”
Brayden H. 18, Colorado, USA

The courage of a military leader was recorded by a young infantryman wearing the gray uniform of the Confederacy during America’s Civil War. He describes the influence of General J.E.B. Stuart in these words: “At a critical point in the battle, he leaped his horse over the breastworks near my company, and when he had reached a point about the center of the brigade, while the men were loudly cheering him, he waved his hand toward the enemy and shouted, ‘Forward men. Forward! Just follow me!’
“The men were wild with enthusiasm. With courage and resolution, they poured over the breastworks after him like a raging torrent, and the objective was seized and held” (Emory M. Thomas, Bold Dragoon: The Life of J.E.B. Stuart, New York: Harper and Row, 1986).