Gospel Story Finder

One other account from those early, faithful builders of modern Zion. John R. Moyle lived in Alpine, Utah, about 22 miles as the crow flies to the Salt Lake Temple, where he was the chief superintendent of masonry during its construction. To make certain he was always at work by 8:00, Brother Moyle would start walking about 2:00 a.m. on Monday mornings. He would finish his work week at 5:00 p.m. on Friday and then start the walk home, arriving there shortly before midnight. Each week he would repeat that schedule for the entire time he served on the construction of the temple.
Once when he was home on the weekend, one of his cows bolted during milking and kicked Brother Moyle in the leg, shattering the bone just below the knee. With no better medical help than they had in such rural circumstances, his family and friends took a door off the hinges and strapped him onto that makeshift operating table. They then took the bucksaw they had been using to cut branches from a nearby tree and amputated his leg just a few inches below the knee. When against all medical likelihood the leg finally started to heal, Brother Moyle took a piece of wood and carved an artificial leg. First he walked in the house. Then he walked around the yard. Finally he ventured out about his property. When he felt he could stand the pain, he strapped on his leg, walked the 22 miles to the Salt Lake Temple, climbed the scaffolding, and with a chisel in his hand hammered out the declaration “Holiness to the Lord.”

The cool evening air felt good on my face as my companion and I were frantically riding our bicycles back to our apartment to make it home on time. The May weather had been typical for Texas, hot and humid, so the crisp evening air was a welcome feeling.
I began thinking of the success we were enjoying in the city of Brownsville. A family of five was baptized last month and another family of five was to be baptized this month. Suddenly that warm, familiar, and welcome feeling came over me, and I was prompted to look back. Through the trees I saw a row of houses a little way off the road—houses I had never noticed before!
When we reached the apartment I told my companion, Elder Maughn, that we needed to go back to those houses in the morning and meet a few people. Then we planned our activities for the next day and went to bed. I could hardly sleep for the excitement of that day. We had challenged a family to be baptized, and they accepted, and now it seemed that the Lord had more people for us to teach.
The morning came not too soon for me. After a shower, breakfast, and study class, we headed out for the houses I had noticed the last night. It was easy to see why we had missed them before. Somehow between the junkyard and bushes and the low-hanging trees, there was a road. Actually, it was more like an alley. It was so rough that we could hardly get our bikes down it.
There were about seven houses down this road, so we began at the first and worked our way to the last. Yes, number six was the house. We knocked at the door, and a woman answered. Her face radiated with a warm, kind, and protective glow. We introduced ourselves and said we had a brief message about the Lord. She invited us into a small, two-room house.
As we entered the living room, we were greeted by no less than five children, ages ranging from eleven down to two. The children giggled as we spoke to them. We told her we would like to return when the father was home, and she invited us back that evening.
The rest of the day my head was spinning with thoughts of how we would teach the family. We knew with the Lord’s help and consent we would help this family become members of his church.
Somewhere between banging on doors and lunch a fearful thought came over me. Tithing! Reflecting back about that family we visited earlier that morning, I wondered how they would accept the principle of tithing. I thought of that family of seven and their home, which apparently had only the bare necessities. The kitchen had just a table and benches in it. The other room, which was divided in half and separated only by a curtain, was both the bedroom and the living room. The only furniture in this room was one chair and a tattered couch. How would this family be able to budget tithing?
Paying an honest tithe seemed to be a stumbling block to some of the people we had taught before, and I worried about this all day. Silently I prayed that this family would gain a strong testimony before we were to teach the principle of tithing to them.
Again the cool evening air felt good on my face as we rode back to that home to meet the father and begin teaching his family. The father held as many of the children as he could, and the others huddled close by. We felt a warm, familiar feeling as we visited with them and explained our message about the Lord’s true church.
After a brief prayer we started with the filmstrip Man’s Search for Happiness. It would keep the children interested, and parents always seemed to enjoy it. I glanced over at the mother during the part about leaving the pre-mortal existence, and I thought I saw traces of tears in her eyes. I couldn’t help but again glance over at her during the part about death and our spirit returning home to loved ones. Yes, this time it was plainly clear. That sweet mother had tears in her eyes and half way down her face.
The mother was still wiping away the tears when the film ended, so I quickly bore my testimony to the truthfulness of the concepts taught in the film and the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We then proceeded into the rest of the discussion. It was accepted well, very well. After arranging another appointment for the next night, we offered prayer and were on our way.
I noticed that there was no car in front of the house, and again I wondered how they would accept the principle of tithing.
When we reached our apartment, Elder Maughn and I knelt down and prayed. We prayed to our Heavenly Father to bless this family with a strong testimony and to provide a way that they could keep the commandments.
When we knelt for personal prayer I stayed on my knees a little longer than usual before climbing into bed. When the time came, how could we present the commandment of tithing so the Spirit would touch them with a testimony and a desire to keep it?
The family was progressing well. Every lesson was a spiritual experience for all of us. Members visited them and took them to church. Finally the challenge was given to be baptized, and they accepted.
The next step was the lesson on the commandments. I cleverly arranged it so my companion would present the concept on tithing. Yes, I would give the first concept, he the second which was tithing, then I would continue with the third and so on. This way I wouldn’t have to ask the family to keep the law of tithing and wonder about their answer.
That moment seemed to come all too soon. When we entered the home that evening and settled down for the lesson I began the discussion with the first concept. Before I had completed two sentences the father eagerly asked a question, and my companion answered it and continued on with my concept! He then finished the first concept, and now it was my turn—tithing! I said a quick silent prayer and proceeded with confidence.
I explained what the word tithe meant, how it was a commandment anciently and now also in our day. Then I came to the part I dreaded—to ask the family to keep the law of tithing. This fine brother answered back, but I was so worried that I didn’t hear the answer. I hurriedly continued on with the concept and then realized he had answered yes! I was then at the part where the question was to be repeated so I confidently asked again, “Will you keep the law of tithing?”
Again the answer was yes. I then bore my testimony with tears in my eyes that it was a true commandment and that many blessings would follow.
That following Sunday, just a week before the family was to be baptized, I looked eagerly for them. When Sunday School began, the family was not there. I didn’t see them anywhere. Perhaps they had decided they couldn’t keep the commandments after all, I thought to myself. I wondered if the problem was tithing.
Then just before sacrament meeting started, in through the front doors walked the family. I hurried to greet them. I had a smile on my face from ear to ear I’m sure. They explained that they had walked all the way, at least four miles I think, and the father carried two of the little ones.
We sat down in time for the meeting to start, and all I could think about was this family. What an example to me. I loved them already, and I had only known them for three weeks.
After sacrament the mother took me aside and said, “Here, Elder Myers. Here’s ten dollars. My husband gets paid every two weeks, and we wanted to start paying tithing now.” I stood there for what seemed like an eternity and just looked at the mother, with sincerity and humbleness written all over her face. I looked at the ten dollars. Her husband made two hundred dollars a month, and they were willing to keep the law of tithing. What a faithful family.
I guess I hesitated too long, for the mother said, “Isn’t it enough?” I quickly turned my head for tears began to fill my eyes. I found the second counselor in the bishopric and asked him to explain to this good sister about filling out the tithing slip.
As he explained the process to her, I slipped away to an empty room. I tried to hold back the tears, but “Here, Elder Myers” kept ringing in my ears. I thanked my Father in Heaven for this great opportunity and the testimony he had given to this family.
That following week the family was baptized.
Even now that I have returned home from my mission and have continued on with my life, I still think of this wonderful family and the great lesson they taught me about tithing. Every time I pay tithing I can still hear those words from that sweet sister, “Here, Elder Myers. Isn’t it enough?”

Once a group of young men went to a lake. They took a bow and 10 arrows with them. After all the arrows had been shot and had fallen harmlessly into the lake, one boy decided to swim to the middle of the lake to retrieve the last arrow. He dived in and headed toward it. He got it and then turned back to swim for shore. By this time he was extremely tired. His wet clothing weighed him down. Holding the arrow in his hand made swimming very difficult. He began to fear he might drown, and he called out desperately to his friends for help.
“Put your feet down and walk to shore,” they called back to him. He couldn’t see things clearly, but his friends, who were looking at things from the shore, knew he was in shallow water. All he had to do was stand up and he would be safe.

For example, if a teachers quorum committee, under the direction of a chairman, has been delegated the responsibility for a quorum party and food afterwards, the quorum advisor should first give clear instructions and then set dates when certain arrangements should be completed and reported to him. He should not wait until the day of the party and then frantically call everyone to see if all the arrangements have been made. Many programs fail because there is no planned method for stimulating or redirecting people with assignments. Also a lack of follow-through may be a signal to the person given the task that the leader has lost interest in the project or is no longer concerned. This may cause the assigned person to lose motivation.

The Q&A section in the Feb. 08 issue gave me a good understanding of how my mom might feel when we fight. Ever since reading it, we haven’t been fighting. Thank you so much for all of the good advice you give. I really appreciate it.
Taylor W., Nevada

Throughout his life Elder Russell had other responsibilities and jobs that taught him to work hard. “When I was twelve years old, I sold newspapers on a street corner in downtown Columbus, Ohio. I learned big-city ways, such as how to get the best corner for selling. I would pick up my papers, then run to beat the other boys and claim my turf.

Did you know that a Soviet-U.S. Youth Summit was held, and two Latter-day Saints from Alaska attended? Ryan Massey and Justin Henwood of the Sterling Ward, Soldotna Alaska Stake, were selected, along with 18 other students from the Kenai Peninsula Borough School District, to spend eight days in Magadan, USSR, where they participated in discussions about environmental and other world concerns. In the meantime, 20 Soviet students visited the United States. Each student stayed with a host family, to better experience real life in their host country.
Ryan is a sophomore, attends early-morning seminary, and is a Life Scout. He likes sports, especially wrestling, and is serving as first counselor in his teachers quorum.
Justin is in seventh grade, always has high grades, and is active in intramural sports and his Boy Scout troop. He is also involved in a Russian studies class and is the secretary of his deacons quorum presidency.

From the fall of 1831 to April 1832 the Prophet Joseph was a guest at the John Johnson home in Hiram. The Prophet directed the Church from here, received numerous revelations, worked on the Inspired Version of the Bible. Conferences were held here, and the members assembled voted to publish the Book of Commandments, now the Doctrine and Covenants.
In March 1832 at Hiram, the Prophet Joseph and Sidney Rigdon were taken by a mob, tarred and feathered and otherwise brutally treated.

I was born of goodly parents. My father and mother held to the values of honesty and integrity that the Church teaches, but they were not active in the Church. Still, my friends went to Primary, so I did too. I felt happy there and never wanted to miss it.
The Primary became my Church family. I went to sacrament meeting each week and sat with my Primary friends. I did not fully understand the meaning of the sacrament, but I knew that I felt something special when I partook of it. I understood the feeling of a covenant before I ever learned that word.

I don’t think any of us had any idea how big America really was. When we landed in Boston, we didn’t realize that our long journey was just beginning, rather than nearing its end.
From Boston, we traveled to Iowa City, Iowa, by railroad. The new railroad saved us weeks of traveling by wagon. The cattle cars were crowded, but we endured the journey well. The train stopped in Buffalo, New York, on the Fourth of July. We could only watch the people celebrate. How I wanted to join them!
Finally we arrived in Iowa City. From the train station, we walked three miles in rain and mud to the place where we were to meet the Church’s agent in charge of organizing the trek. We had been assured that everything would be ready for us when we arrived, but it wasn’t. The handcarts hadn’t even been built! We camped and worked at preparing for the journey until all was ready.

I don’t know what got into me that brisk autumn Sunday evening. My mom always said only Church magazines on Sunday and no television until “The Wonderful World of Disney.” But I never once heard her mention stealing pumpkins.

I went to visit a family I was assigned to home teach. Their middle daughter (who happened to be the love of my life) mentioned that they needed a jack-o’-lantern for the upcoming holiday. “There are no stores open,” I thought, “and even if there were we couldn’t buy one on Sunday.”

“Come with me,” she said, flipping her soft golden hair over her right shoulder. And then, the eyes. Those mischievous green eyes suggested that she had something in mind.

I know. We didn’t need eight pumpkins, but the collecting process was great fun. Some were at the end of the driveway, others on the front porch. Some victims owned dogs, big dogs, and others guns. Good heavens, we’d be shot for sure. We drove all over the township of Argyle, New York. A younger sister and a friend insisted on coming along, so the four of us, with the eight pumpkins, were very cozy in the small car.

Then came the Great Harvest Pumpkin. It was four feet wide and two feet tall and weighed 70 pounds. We spotted it in the moonlight, guarding an unlighted porch on the east end of the house. Leading to the monster was a crunchy leaf-covered sidewalk. The porch was old and creaky, and there was a dog, with a bark like a Doberman, hiding in the ominous shadow behind the house. People’s voices could be heard in the lighted west end of the house. This would surely be the pumpkin that would qualify us for the 1990 Olympic pumpkin-stealing team.

We tried to step where the leaves weren’t as we approached the porch, hoping that George house owner and Fang the dog would not discover our presence. We climbed onto the creaky porch, hugged the giant vegetable, and quietly strained to lift it. We wobbled down the sidewalk, ran a five-second 100-meter dash to the getaway car, and sped into the darkness.

Upon our arrival at home, we laughed, joked, and carved. Even then I knew it was wrong. But somehow it seemed okay because it was also fun.

A year later, I was a full-time missionary. On a cool autumn night, my companion and I were teaching the discussion that describes remorse, recognition, repentance, and restitution. Wow, that hit me. This plan sure was complete. I thought to myself, “Sure is a good thing I’ve never stol …” Suddenly I was filled with guilt. I had stolen something! Nine somethings! I was guilty! How could I restore those pumpkins? How could I remember where I had taken them from? I would get home two years after I’d stolen the pumpkins and two weeks after Halloween! Well, I figured, at least it would be great to be home for Thanksgiving.

“That’s it!” I said. “Pumpkins and Thanksgiving!”

One year, one month, and two days later, in Argyle, New York, my younger brother and I went to the store and bought nine pumpkin pies. I was somehow able to remember each house and how many pumpkins I had taken from each. Each one received the like number of confessions, apologies, and pies. That was the most humiliating thing in the world.

Almost. Because now, as I look back, I’m still embarrassed when I think about my attitude back then. Having fun didn’t excuse anything. How could I think it did? The one thing I am glad about is that the Lord prompted me to realize it and gave me the courage to do something about it.

Thank you so much for the article “Talking to Parents” in the March New Era. I haven’t tried the advice given yet, but I’m sure there is hope. I’m 13 and don’t get along with my mom very well. But your article will help me look at the situation from a different angle. My mother read it too. I feel that the article was meant for me. Please continue writing articles on the family problems people might have. They might help others as “Talking to Parents” helped me.
Sandra VinnHuntington Beach, California

My Uncle Ed has always had an infectious love of life. Unfortunately, he also had a deficient pair of kidneys. For several years, Ed had been staving off kidney failure through dialysis. The treatments were painful and frequent. Each treatment wiped him out until the next one, and by the fall of 1995, he seemed to be just a shell of his former vibrant self.
The doctor finally told Ed that if he didn’t get a new kidney soon, his body wouldn’t hold out much longer. Although only one kidney is necessary to sustain life, Ed didn’t want to ask anyone to donate one of theirs due to the risk that inherently accompanies any surgery. But there was no choice. Several close friends and family members were tested to see if their kidneys were compatible. Only one perfect match was found: Ed’s sister, Dottie—my mother.
On December 7, many of Ed’s friends and family joined in fasting and prayer in behalf of him and Dottie. The surgeons who performed the operation were twin brothers. Even more interesting, one of them had donated a kidney to the other. Ed and my mother were impressed to learn that with each surgery, these two doctors did all that they could and then bowed their heads and left the outcome in the Lord’s hands.
On the day of the operation, one doctor removed one of my mother’s kidneys. As he sewed her back up, his brother carefully secured the donated kidney inside Ed’s abdomen.
The surgery was a success, but it remained to be seen if Ed’s body would accept the new kidney. The antibodies in his immune system were suppressed to improve his chances, so Ed had to be isolated in intensive care to protect him from viruses. Even after he was released, he had to remain isolated from everyone except his immediate family. On Christmas Eve, however, Ed received special permission to attend my grandparents’ annual Christmas Eve celebration.
Wearing a face mask, Ed walked in the door, headed straight for Dottie, and enveloped her in a tremendous hug. As they embraced each other, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Everyone could feel the love emanating from them. A sister had suffered in order to give her brother the gift of life. It was a gift of love, a gift of sacrifice, a gift he couldn’t provide for himself.
As I watched them, with tears streaming down my face, it dawned on me: this could be what it will be like to meet the Savior face to face. He did something for us that we are unable to do for ourselves. Only He, being divine, was able to endure a sacrifice so great that the law of justice would be satisfied. And only He, being perfect, was worthy to atone for the sins of all mankind so that the law of mercy could be extended to all who accept Him as their Savior.
As I savored these insights, I recommitted myself to do all I could to show my appreciation for the Savior and His sacrifice. I would strive to live my life as a disciple so that someday I might be worthy to enter His presence, embrace Him, and personally thank Him for loving me enough to make such a sacrifice.

For a long time I stared at that white card, and I remembered what it was like to move into a new school. Two years earlier I had been the new kid. At first I was afraid and was sure that everyone in the whole school was staring at me. Then Brandon invited me to sit next to him in class. His friends became my friends. We sat in the cafeteria together. We played at recess together. That very first afternoon he even invited me to his house after school.

I have been a member of the Church for two years, and in those two years my testimony has really grown strong. I live in a small town called Stornoway where there are only three members of the Church. I am really grateful to Elder Rose and Elder Clark, the missionaries who brought the gospel to my brother and me and baptized us. The missionaries are doing a great job here, and I know with all my heart that the Church is going to grow here in Stornoway. The New Era has been a great help to me, both as a nonmember and a member.
Carolyn SmithStornoway, Isle of Lewis, Scotland

When Elder Nathaniel Johnson completed his full-time mission, he reflected on the prior two years—the work he did, the people he blessed, and the way he had grown. He was assigned to serve in one of 124 bishops’ storehouses operated by the Church worldwide. He unloaded trucks, stocked shelves, and kept the storehouse clean.
For him, the most meaningful experiences were helping patrons fill orders for sorely needed food and commodities. He said, “I was basically bringing the light of Christ into other people’s lives so they could know they are part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”
On hectic days during the COVID-19 pandemic, patrons lined up around the block and the storehouse was open for 10 hours a day. “I learned that when the Lord is with us, we’ll be able to do anything and get through any challenge,”1 he observed.

My grandmother is one of the many people I look up to. Her parents were kind and loving, but they didn’t take her to church. My grandma walked to Primary by herself. She loved learning about Jesus Christ. She felt the Spirit very strongly as she was taught the gospel. Even though she was alone, she continued to go to church because it made her feel happy and good inside. When she got older she was sealed in the temple to my grandpa, and together they taught their children the gospel. My grandma is such a good example to me because she has shown me that I can follow the Savior’s teachings even when I’m young.
Lindie B., age 9, Utah

Joseph Smith counseled all the members living in Missouri to gather to either Far West or Adam-ondi-Ahman for protection. However, Jacob Haun, who was the leader of the settlement of Haun’s Mill, didn’t want to leave his property. He counseled the others living there to stay; they would defend themselves if necessary.
On October 30, a mob of about 240 men approached Haun’s Mill with the intent of carrying out the governor’s extermination order. While the men in the settlement sought protection in the blacksmith shop, the women and children fled into the woods as the mob attacked. David Evans swung his hat at the mob and cried for peace, but the mob only shot at him. The mob also fired on the unarmed women and children.

President Thomas S. Monson taught me an important lesson about keeping an eternal point of view.

Eighteen years ago while traveling on a train in Switzerland with President Monson, I asked him about his heavy responsibilities. His response strengthened my faith. “In the First Presidency,” he said, “we do everything we can to move this work forward. But this is the Lord’s work, and He directs it. He is at the helm. We marvel as we watch Him open doors we cannot open and perform miracles we can scarcely imagine.”7

September 21, 1823
The angel Moroni appears to Joseph and tells him about the gold plates and the work Joseph is called to do.