Gospel Story Finder

Several days before our ward was scheduled to travel to the Aba Nigeria Temple, the bishop called and asked me to lead our group. I agreed, and on the morning of our trip, we offered a prayer and boarded a bus to begin our journey.
On our way, we sang hymns. Joy beyond measure filled the air. We were making good time on our 10-hour journey, but just before noon, our bus developed a problem none of us could fix.
I ran to a nearby petrol station and found an attendant. I asked if she could direct me to a mechanic.
Without delay, she called two mechanics. They soon arrived and got to work. They discovered that the fan belt was defective. They worked for hours until they had exhausted all their knowledge. Then they called another mechanic.
He appeared confident when he arrived and said sarcastically, “What’s wrong with the fan belt that you could not fix?”
He worked for a while and then said, “What has happened here is beyond ordinary.” He picked up his tools and left. The other mechanics continued to search for a solution, but our situation seemed hopeless.
I turned to my fellow Saints and saw sadness on almost every face. As I thought about what to do next, a thought came to me: “Have you prayed over the problem?”
Immediately, I called the group together. We stood in a circle and prayed to our Heavenly Father to give the mechanics the knowledge they lacked. In less than five minutes, one of the mechanics came to see me.
“We have done it!” he said, beaming.
We rejoiced and thanked the Lord. I soon noticed that the other mechanic looked discouraged. I tried to congratulate him, but he said, “Are you congratulating me for taking six hours to fix one fan belt? I fixed two fan belts before I came here. What happened here is beyond explanation.”
I told him God had intervened following our prayer.
“You prayed over it?” he asked.
“Yes, about five minutes ago.”
“Oh, that is wonderful of you!” he said.
I paid the mechanics and they left. We all entered the bus and continued our journey. We finally reached the temple several hours later, grateful that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

Helping at the sacrament table is an important way of serving the members of his ward, says Alex Arancibia, 17. “Every time I kneel to say the sacrament prayer, I feel good knowing that I’m helping others renew their covenants. It’s a feeling that the Lord approves of what I’m doing. Thinking about my Sunday responsibilities helps me make the right choices during the week.”

Chris shuffled his feet a little to hear the brush, brush sound they made in the blue paper booties covering his shoes. He was standing in line with his family, waiting to go into the San Diego California Temple for the open house.
Dad bent down and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. "Temple open houses are very special," he said. "I remember when I went to the Provo Utah Temple open house. I had watched the workers building it from just an empty field up to a finished temple. When we were inside, I knew it was Heavenly Father’s house. I was a little bit older than you are, but you’ll remember this your whole life, just like I did."
Mom turned toward them. "That’s right. I remember when I went to the Seattle Washington Temple open house a long time ago. That’s why we drove all the way here. Getting to tour a temple before it’s dedicated is a very special opportunity."
Chris thought about their long drive through the desert to get to San Diego. There had been nothing interesting to look at out the windows, and his little sister cried most of the way. Even his older sister got a little bit tired of all the driving. But since they had come so far, he knew it was important.
Chris folded his arms and walked as quietly as he could in his blue paper shoes through the temple tour. He couldn’t remember ever being somewhere so beautiful. The carpet was white. The windows were tall. The pictures on the walls were beautiful. It felt more reverent than any place he had been before.
As they walked up the stairs, Chris held tightly to the handrail. He was smiling brightly.
Mom whispered to him, "How do you feel?"
Chris looked up at her and Dad. "I feel like I’m holding the iron rod."

George Washington (First President of the U.S.A.) also set us a good example in this regard. When he learned that some of his officers used profanity, he sent a letter to them on July 1, 1776, from which we quote:
“The General is sorry to be informed that the foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing, a vice heretofore little known in our American army, is becoming popular. He hopes that officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to stop swearing and that both they and the men will realize that we can have little hope of the blessing of heaven on our efforts here if we insult heaven by our impropriety and folly. Added to this, it is a vice so vulgar, without any temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises it.”

A modern Latter-day Saint woman, Ruth Morgan of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, describes her years in Relief Society: “I have grown from an unsure young adult to a young wife and mother and then to a sister of experience in my middle years. At the age of nineteen, I sat next to a sweet grandmother and learned to knit. She also was learning to knit. … I learned of a Heavenly Father who loves me and a Savior who showed the way. I learned to teach, to hug, to lead, and to follow. I have become a Relief Society sister, standing tall as a much-loved daughter of my Heavenly Father.”

One Monday when we were celebrating Washington’s birthday, I was down at my mother’s sawing a log in the backyard. She came out to give me some direction and see how I was doing it, and she wasn’t very pleased. She thought I ought to do it differently. She went back into the house and in a few minutes my younger brother arrived. She said to him, “I think you’d better go out in the backyard and give Bruce some help and see that he does this thing right.” And then she said to him, “Bruce isn’t very bright.” Well, so I’m not. So I start where I am, and I go forward from there. I start using such talent as I have, and I begin to apply the principles of eternal truth to my life. I consult and counsel with the Lord in the process, and no matter where I am, the gospel takes me forward and onward and upward, and blessings flow to me that will ennoble and sanctify and improve me in this life and eventually give me glory and honor and dignity in the life to come.

Tyson’s sister, McKenna, 16, remembers feeling nervous her first time doing baptisms for the dead. But at the open house, when she saw the Draper temple font supported by 12 white oxen, it reminded her of the blessings of temple service.
“Just entering the temple helps you feel a little calmer,” she says. “But as you do baptisms, the feeling gets even better.”

One beautiful spring day I left the door open to enjoy the fresh air. A small bird flew in the open door and then realized this was not where it wanted to be. It flew desperately around the room, repeatedly flying into the window glass in an attempt to escape. I tried to gently guide it toward the open door, but it was frightened and kept darting away. It finally landed on top of the window drapes in bewildered exhaustion. I took a broom and slowly reached the bristle end up to where the bird nervously perched. As I held the head of the broom next to its feet, the bird tentatively stepped onto the bristles. Slowly, very slowly, I walked to the open door, holding the broom as steady as I could. As soon as we reached the open door, the bird swiftly flew to freedom.

The Doll Shop Downstairs*, by Yona Zeldis McDonough, illustrated by Heather Maione. Anna and her sisters enjoy playing with the dolls waiting to be fixed in their father’s doll repair shop. When the shop is in danger of going out of business because of World War I, Anna looks for a way to get her family through the hard times.

May I underscore this call to action by discussing a concept I was reminded of recently while watching a basketball game.
In that game, the first half was a seesaw battle, back and forth. Then, during the last five seconds of the first half, a guard on one team made a beautiful three-point shot. With only one second left, his teammate stole the inbound pass and made another basket at the buzzer! So that team went into the locker room four points ahead with a palpable surge of momentum. They were able to carry that momentum into the second half and win the game.

We expect a lot from our Aaronic Priesthood brethren, and, properly trained, they seldom disappoint us. When Dr. Harold Hulme served as bishopric adviser to a deacons quorum, they were invited to tour a hospital. As he introduced his quorum to the nurses, one of them said, “How unusual. The deacons in our church are older men.” Dr. Hulme replied, “Well, our deacons are outstanding young men. They can handle it when they are twelve years old!”

Maaziah used to not like math because it was hard for him to understand. Then he started using a math computer game every day. Now he understands and loves math!

So it is with inspiration. We must attune ourselves to the inspiration from God and tune out the scratchy static. We have to work at being tuned in. Most of us need a long time to become tuned in. When I was a newly called General Authority, President Marion G. Romney, who was in his 70s at the time, told us, “I know when I am working under the Spirit and when I am not.” To be able to recognize when one is being guided by the Spirit is a supernal gift.

Like many young women in Uganda, Sandra walks more than a mile to church, helps clean the meetinghouse on Fridays, and attends seminary on Saturdays. During the week, she rises before 5:00 a.m. to read schoolbooks, and then she walks to school, returning home after 6:00 p.m. She missed a year of school because of financial difficulties but faces her challenges with a positive attitude: “The gospel has really helped me to stay steadfast and immovable.”
Sandra is the only Church member in her home, but her parents support her Church service, such as helping when the ward cleaned the grounds of a local orphanage. Her family sees how the gospel has helped her be strong, even when facing unresolved problems. Reflecting on the source of that strength, Sandra says, “When I go to church, I feel like I am putting on the armor of God” (see Ephesians 6:11–17).

I experienced the second kind of healing one night following an operation. I remember waking up in extreme pain. Just then this thought entered my mind: “You know that you will get better. You have been promised that your body will be made whole. You know you’re going to get through this.”

I’ve never been crazy about my name, Antoinette. It sounds like some fragile French girl who couldn’t look at a spider or a fly without fainting. So I got everybody to call me Toni, which fits me a whole lot better than Antoinette.
I think I started playing basketball the day I climbed out of my stroller. My brothers thought it was kind of funny, because the ball was bigger than I was, but that didn’t stop me. I got so that I could really dribble and shoot well. Once our home teacher asked me what I was going to do when I grew up, and I said, “Play professional basketball.”
The summer before I went to sixth grade, we left our little town of Cotter Creek and moved to the city. It was a bit scary being in a big place, but we bought a house just two blocks west of the city park, and it had the biggest outside basketball court I’d ever seen.
The first day we moved in, I went to the park—and every day after that! One afternoon I was shooting free throws when a bunch of boys came and started playing a game on the next court over. I didn’t pay much attention until one of them said, “Maybe we can get that girl to play in Devin’s place.”
“A girl?”
“It’s just to make the teams even,” someone else said.
A moment later someone walked up behind me. “Hey, do you want to play?” I turned around. There was this boy, probably a year older than I was and about two inches taller. He had a friendly smile. “We’re short one player,” he explained.
“Sure, I’ll play with you.”
“I’m Tanner. Are you new around here?”
“We moved in a couple weeks ago. I’m Toni.”
“Do you know how to play?” one of the others asked when I went over to their court.
“I can dribble without falling down,” I muttered.
“Just don’t throw the ball away,” a blond boy growled back.
At first, nobody trusted me near the ball; then I got a break. Tanner was being double-teamed and was about to have the ball knocked out of his hands. I was standing a few feet from him in the open because no one figured they had to guard me. Tanner tossed me the ball. I shot a little jumper that swished through the net.
“Lucky shot!” the guys on the other team hooted.
The next time Tanner got the ball, I was under the basket in the open again. He tossed it to me, and I went up for another two points. Twice more Tanner fed the ball to me, and I hit the basket two more times.
After that, the other team had someone guard me. I stole the ball right out of the hands of one of their players and raced for our basket, spinning and going in for a smooth layup. Everybody else just stood and gawked at me.
We won the game, and I ended up being the high scorer on our team. The players on the other team complained that the only reason I had scored was that no one was guarding me. Tanner laughed and challenged them, “All right, which one of you wants to go one-on-one against Toni?” There were no takers.
After the game, we walked down the street to the supermarket, and some of the guys went in. Tanner and I stayed outside. Soon the others returned with soda pop for all of us. Everybody was really nice, and for the first time since leaving Cotter Creek, I felt things were going well for me.
Afterward we walked over to Tanner’s house and watched TV. We’d been there for only a few minutes, when someone asked Tanner where his mom was. He shrugged and said that she was gone and wouldn’t be back for an hour or so. I squirmed uneasily because my parents’ rule was that I wasn’t to go over to a friend’s home unless one of the parents was there. I should have left, but I didn’t. I told myself that it really didn’t matter because we weren’t doing anything wrong.
From then on, I spent a lot of time with Tanner and his friends. Many times after playing in the park, we’d stop at the supermarket for drinks. Usually I didn’t have any money, but Tanner just waved me away and laughed. “It’s no big deal, Toni. You watch the bikes and one of the guys will grab something for you.”
After getting our drinks, we’d bike to someone’s house and watch TV. Many times no parents were there, but since I had stayed that first time at Tanner’s place, it got easier to tell myself that everything was OK. We weren’t doing anything wrong, even though there were times when the guys talked kind of crude.
One Monday night in his home evening lesson about Alma in the court of King Noah, Dad explained how Alma stood up to the wicked priests, who had been his friends, and told them to spare the life of the prophet Abinadi. Dad challenged us to be like Alma, even when it wasn’t the popular thing to do.
“Why are the scripture stories always about boys?” I complained at the end of the lesson. “I’d like some scripture stories about girls.”
Dad smiled. “Toni, there are some wonderful stories about women in the scriptures. But who the scripture character is, is not the important thing. The important thing is the lesson we can learn from whomever the story is about. You don’t have to be a man to learn the same lesson that Alma learned.”
“I’m not at all like Alma,” I said. “I want a scripture story about girls doing real things. When am I ever going to be running around with a bunch of wicked priests, talking back to a crooked king?”
My brothers laughed and rolled their eyes.
A few days later, after my regular afternoon basketball game with the guys, we all headed for the supermarket.
That afternoon Tanner and I went into the store with the others. I didn’t have any money, but Tanner grabbed a couple of sodas for us. As he strolled down the aisle, he slipped them under his big T-shirt and down into the pockets of his baggy knee-length shorts. Then he followed me out of the store.
Suddenly I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I still wasn’t sure if I had actually seen what Tanner did, until the others came out of the store and he pulled the two sodas from his pockets and handed me one.
“You didn’t pay for those, Tanner,” I blurted out.
While the others gathered around, Tanner laughed, still holding the soda out to me. “These are two bonus cans, Toni. We give this store so much business that we deserve to pick up some free stuff once in a while.” The others laughed and nudged Tanner playfully. “Tyson and Brent picked up a couple of free drinks too.”
I gaped. “I can’t drink stolen pop.”
“You can’t?” Tanner asked, a smirk on his face. “What do you think you’ve been drinking all the other times we’ve come down here? Did you think someone else was paying for your drinks?”
“I just thought … Yes … I mean …”
All the guys laughed. Tanner popped the lid from the can and again held it out to me. “Go ahead, Toni, drink it. It won’t kill you. Besides, you didn’t take it—I did.”
“You do this all the time?” I asked, still having a hard time understanding.
“Sure—it’s easy.”
“But it’s still stealing,” I rasped.
“It didn’t bother you before.”
“I didn’t know before. I—I guess I’m not thirsty.”
Tanner shrugged, and held it up. “Anybody want a soda?” Three or four hands grabbed for it.
While the guys drank their sodas, I stood there wishing that I’d never left the basketball court. They were my friends. We had had good times together. But they were doing things I knew were wrong. I had been doing wrong. I had gone to their homes without their parents being there. I had been choosing the wrong, too, and making excuses for myself.
Suddenly I thought of Alma, and I realized that even though he was a man who lived two thousand years ago, he knew what it was like to stand up to friends and tell them he didn’t want to keep doing what was wrong. And I knew that it didn’t make any difference that he was a man and I was a girl. Just like Dad had said, the lesson to learn was the same.
“Let’s head over to my place,” Tanner said. “We’ll have the house to ourselves for a while. And I found a video hidden in the top of my brother’s closet that will be interesting to check out.”
All the guys started climbing onto their bikes, but I choked out, “I’m going home, Tanner.”
“You don’t want to come with us?”
“I’d better get home,” I said slowly. “Mom’s probably waiting for me.”
Tanner shrugged. “That’s cool. Maybe you can come over tomorrow. We’ll tell you if the video’s any good.”
I prayed silently for the courage to speak out like the prophet Alma, and not put the blame on Mom. Then I shook my head. “I won’t be coming again.”
“Do you think that you’re too good to hang around with us?” Tanner growled.
I swallowed hard. “I’m just trying to do what’s right.” I took my bike and started to walk away.
“You’ll be shooting baskets by yourself,” Tanner called after me. “If you’re too good to hang around with us, we don’t want you any more.”
I stopped, knowing that walking away meant having to make new friends. It probably meant being teased. But I had to do it, just as Alma had. A few minutes before, I had felt sick, not knowing for sure what I should do. But that sick feeling was gone now, and in its place was a warm, comfortable feeling. I climbed onto my bike and headed home to talk to Dad and Mom.

When I first met Judy 30 years ago, I had no idea she had been a member of the Church for only 4 years. She had an important responsibility in the Church, and I had no reason to believe she had not been a member all her life.
Only when I talked to Judy and Laura about their experiences as new converts did I learn that both had found their new Church membership to be more challenging than expected. It’s something they have in common with many—if not most—new converts.
Judy says, “You don’t just change where you go to church. You change your life. After my baptism I found myself asking, ‘Can I really do this?’”
Then, as Judy counsels, “just build knowledge line upon line. Start with the basics.” And remember that you already have the foundation for the rest of your gospel learning: you know the Church is true.

“My father had a dairy products business and five or six horse carts. Sometimes I used to help him with the deliveries.
“I remember one of the first songs I learned in the Church was ‘Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.’ I used to sing that song every day; in fact, my father got tired of hearing that particular song.
“One day I went to deliver two bottles of milk to a customer. The lady of the house heard me singing that song and came out and asked, ‘What are you singing?’
“‘I’m singing, “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam,”’ I answered.
“‘What is that?’ she inquired.
“‘One of the songs we sing in my church,’ I replied.
“‘What church is that?’
“‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’
“‘Well, I don’t know them. Do they have another name?’
“‘Yes, the Mormon Church.’
“‘Why don’t you tell me something about your church?’”
Elder Abrea concluded his experience by saying that after two weeks, the lady and her family began attending the Latter-day Saint Church. This was his first missionary experience.

On the day that no one in the neighborhood saw “Hanse,” as she was called, concerned neighbors rang her doorbell, but to no avail. They were anxious for this gentle and gracious widow who found a place in their hearts. They looked on her as one of their own.

Finally, a member of the bishopric forced open the door and there, in the bedroom, was Marie Woodruff Hansen, as if she had fallen asleep, but never again to awaken in this life.

As the bishopric member paused to take in this sad but peaceful scene, he was startled, when from behind him he heard the words, “I love you.” Knowing that Marie lived alone, he turned; and there in the corner was a bird cage. A second time the bird said, “I love you.”

It was as if Marie, herself, had paused at the portals that mark the point between life and death to send back one final message before moving on to that new day.

Behind her was a neighborhood of friends, both young and old. She knew them all. They were like family to her; Marie’s baked goodies found their way into their homes, and they looked after her like a favorite aunt or a grandmother. Home teaching and visiting teaching were only the beginning as the whole neighborhood was caught up in this love affair. Children were welcomed into her home. They always knew there would be fresh-baked cookies. There was a warmth about that little home that was a reflection of Marie’s whole life. Many prayers had been offered here: prayers of gratitude, prayers of thanksgiving.

The words she taught her pet bird were the words she lived by. Even in death they echoed in the ears of those she left behind. Ahead of Marie was a husband who had gone first, too many years ago. She had lived a full life and left one final message of good-bye in the words she knew best: “I love you.”

Marie Hansen left a great legacy, probably greater than she realized. For did not the Savior say, “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another”? (John 13:34.)

The second type of harmful guilt—feeling guilty for no apparent reason—frequently develops out of similar self-esteem problems caused by an individual’s inability to take charge of his life. I counseled with one such person, a forty-five-year-old successful business executive who really wanted to be working with young people instead. But he felt that he couldn’t ask his family to go through the lifestyle adjustment necessary for this kind of career change. He found himself avoiding work as much as possible because he disliked it, but he also found himself avoiding his family. This paralyzing ineffectiveness in both areas made him feel guilty.
The solution for both the sister and this brother was basically the same. They started making plans and carrying them through. As they saw that they could make decisions, their self-esteem rose, their guilt decreased, and they were able to see their guilt in perspective.