Gospel Story Finder

I used to live in Tokyo, Japan, quite near the Tokyo Temple. Whenever I got in a taxi cab in Tokyo, rather than giving my home address, I would say, “Latter-day Saint Temple, please.” Usually, the first response from the cab driver would be a look of bewilderment. I would then say, “You know, the beautiful building across from the Arisugawa Park, the one with the gold statue of the angel on top?” Once they knew where to go, then came my next question: “You must know who the Latter-day Saints are; you see the missionaries on their bikes with helmets and white shirts all the time, don’t you?” Every cab ride led to a discussion about the Church.

In 1863 Charles Dickens, the English novelist, went on board the passenger ship Amazon, which was bound for New York. His purpose was to report on the Latter-day Saint converts who were emigrating to build up the Church in the American West. There had been thousands of converts who had already emigrated, and much had been written, particularly in the British media, about them and their beliefs. Most of what was written was unfavorable.
“I went on board their ship,” wrote Dickens, “to bear testimony against them if they deserved it, as I fully believed they would; to my great astonishment they did not deserve it.”
After observing and mingling with the converts, Dickens was impressed with them and described these English converts, most of whom were laborers, as being “in their degree, the pick and flower of England.”

One Saturday during my mission to Guatemala, my companion and I decided to visit Benita. She and her husband, Isaías, were faithful members of the Church. Isaías was continually in search of ways to bring in enough money to support his family. To supplement his efforts, Benita raised chickens to sell them and their eggs.
When we arrived we could tell that Benita was upset. She explained that, after her husband had gone to work in a distant village, her chickens had all become sick, and one had already died. She knew they could not get by without these chickens. She felt frustrated and helpless.
Trying to console her, we sang some hymns and shared our testimonies. We offered to say a prayer with her. When we said this, her face lit up. She asked me to pray and petition Heavenly Father to bless her chickens. I was caught off guard—I had never thought of chickens as subjects for prayer. But then I thought of Amulek’s admonition to “cry unto [God] … over all your flocks” (Alma 34:20). I realized that Benita’s chickens were her flock.
I gave the prayer, telling Heavenly Father that Benita’s husband was gone, that one of her chickens had died, that the rest were sick, and that she didn’t know what to do. I told Heavenly Father that her heart ached and asked Him to please bless her chickens. Benita thanked us for visiting, and we left.
The next day at church, Benita told us of her chickens’ recovery. Each time I think of Benita, I think of God’s love for us and His desire to bless us—if we will just ask.

As early Saints reached Utah, President Brigham Young issued calls to some of them to serve missions to many nations of the world, to others to colonize areas outside the Salt Lake Valley. George Careless was prepared to accept any call he received.
“Brother George,” President Young said, “I have a mission for you. … I want you to take the Tabernacle Choir … and lay a foundation for good music in Utah.” Brother Careless accepted the call.
Born in London on September 24, 1839, George displayed musical talent early in life. His father, a woodcarver, berated his son for “wasting time” with music and told him to learn a trade. George went to work in a shoemaking company, but his heart wasn’t in it. The plant foreman, a music lover who collected violins, loaned him one of them, and George soon learned to play it.
When he was ten years old, he was offered a place in a London choir school, where boys earned their academic and musical education by singing in a church or cathedral. It was a wonderful opportunity, but George turned it down. He had recently joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was eager to participate fully in it.
George’s father never accepted his devotion to music and told him to either give it up or leave the family. So when he was thirteen, George left home.
Later, the shoe factory foreman loaned George the money to attend the Royal Academy of Music. After graduating in three years rather than the usual four, he was hired as a member of an orchestra that gave concerts in the Crystal Palace, England’s showplace for the arts. With his first earnings, he repaid the foreman.
At the same time, George worked to improve the musical activities of the Church in England. He directed a London Conference choir, earning it such a high reputation that it was invited to perform at several of London’s leading concert halls.
His career was progressing so well that Elder William C. Staines encouraged him to move to Utah before he became so famous that it would be almost impossible to leave those who went to hear him. Six weeks later, George sailed for America. On his ship, the Hudson, he led a choir composed of Saints who were immigrating to Utah. He arrived in New York City on July 19, 1864. From there he suffered illness and hunger much of the rest of the way.
Arriving in the Salt Lake Valley, George was given the depressing news that the few professional musicians already there were unable to make a living with their music. Even so, he was determined to teach music even if he starved. By the end of the next month, he had twenty-four paying pupils. The going rate for a series of lessons in the Salt Lake Valley was a hundred pounds of flour.
When President Young called him to his musical mission, George replied, “I will do the best I can with the material I can get.”
The prophet responded, “You will have to make that.”
Organizing a choir in the rough conditions of frontier living took determination and grit as well as talent. At his first rehearsal of the choir, only forty members were present. The Tabernacle, still under construction, had no heating or lighting. Choir members held a candle in one hand, their music in the other.
On October 8, 1873, the Salt Lake Tabernacle Choir joined with choirs from fourteen surrounding communities to perform at General Conference. Some of the choirs had to travel several days to reach Salt Lake City.
When Brigham Young died in 1877, George assembled a 220-member choir to perform a hymn he composed for the funeral.
After serving eleven years as director of the Tabernacle Choir, George resigned his post in 1880. His mission was to continue, though, when President John Taylor asked him to head a committee to write music for all the hymns to be included in The Latter-day Saints’ Psalmody, published in 1889. The Psalmody contained 330 hymns, three-fourths of them set to music by Mormon composers. One of Brother Careless’s compositions is the well-known sacrament hymn “He Died! The Great Redeemer Died.”
George Careless fulfilled his mission to lay a foundation for good music, not just in Utah but in the whole Church.

Christmas in Paris was incredible, and it was even better because I was spending it as a missionary—a representative of the One whose birth we were celebrating. My companion and I prepared a special Christmas message, certain that people would throw open their doors and welcome us in to talk of Christ.
Imagine our disappointment when in reality very few doors opened. And of those few people who opened their doors, not one could spare a minute to hear our message, though a few offered us chocolates. One woman even shouted through her still-closed door: “Jesus Christ? He’s dead!”
Those words hurt. And I longed to bear testimony to her—or anyone who would listen—that He lives still and loves us all. But listeners were hard to find.
Apparently ours wasn’t the only companionship struggling to find opportunities to teach. Our zone leaders called one day with an interesting idea: since we couldn’t compete with the busyness of the season, we might as well join it. So two days before Christmas, about 20 missionaries gathered in downtown Paris to sing carols to the crowds bustling past.
We arranged ourselves on steps not far from one of the busiest metro hubs and shopping districts of the city, Châtelet-Les Halles. Once settled, we launched into song. I’m sure we startled a few people as we started out, but what we lacked in musical abilities we made up for in enthusiasm. Many people looked at us suspiciously, as if they were wondering what we were selling. But the longer we sang, the more the hurried shoppers seemed to accept and appreciate our presence.
I watched as people paused and listened to us, even if it was just for a moment. A few even tried to hand us money and seemed astounded when we shook our heads in refusal. It was fun to see their reactions, but still, I wanted more. I wanted to testify.
Then a woman stopped abruptly like she’d run into a wall. She just stood there listening to us. As her eyes met mine, I put all the testimony I could into the words we sang. It was like a lightbulb flashed behind her eyes—as if she suddenly remembered something she’d forgotten—and the stress of the day drained from her face.
When the song ended, I smiled at her and she smiled back. Then she turned and moved on, her pace slower and her shoulders relaxed. For her, at least, we’d made a difference.
That experience was one of few opportunities I had to testify of Christ that Christmas season. But I’d learned an important truth: a testimony can be borne in more than one way. A song and a smile can be enough to touch a heart.

One day my twin sister, Maddie, our younger brother Nathan, and I wanted to do something together. Since we were really busy that week, we hadn’t had much time to be together. We all chose to do service. Our mom suggested that we do a service club! We all agreed and turned the room under our stairs into a meeting room.
For our first service project, we made a list of people around our neighborhood that we appreciated. We decorated cards and wrote letters that thanked them and told them we love and appreciate them. We signed the letters with a big question mark.
The next day we rode our bikes all around the neighborhood to our friends’ houses and stuck the letters on their front porches. By the time we had delivered all the letters, we all felt really happy. We had so much fun being together and—even better—serving!
Later that week we were at our summer cooking class. We had given our teacher a letter. We saw that same letter hung up on her bulletin board! We all felt excited that she had felt our love.
We continued the service club and also started making delicious treats to give to people we love. We gave a treat we called “The Butterscotch Supreme” to a lady in our ward who had gotten a concussion. Our mom got a text saying that the lady loved it and appreciated our kindness. That led to more baking for friends.
I am so glad that we can show people we love them. It makes me feel good to know that I am serving Heavenly Father when I serve others.

I’m away at school, living quite a distance from home, and it gets very lonely. Recently, while the mail was being passed out, I was feeling especially alone and in need of comfort from my family. I said a small prayer, asking God to please let me receive a letter from home.
When the last letter was passed out, I was disappointed. But the mail carrier still had a magazine folded in her hands. It was my New Era. Father in Heaven had heard my prayer and sent me the greatest letter from home!
Nephi OlivaWhittier, California

Follow is another invitation. On the pioneer trek, Ethan G. gained a greater understanding of this word. “Sometimes I haven’t felt the best on trek, or I’ve felt kind of discouraged,” he admitted. “But I realize that the pioneers also felt that way.”
Ethan used to wonder why the early pioneers were willing to do what they did. He said, “I feel like I might have just given up. But as I’ve thought about that, I kind of realized that it’s because they loved the Savior, and they have a hope they can become better through Him. I want to try that too.”
Before Ethan went on the trek, he read about pioneers from the past, felt a connection with them, and was inspired by their faith to follow Jesus Christ. And what is Ethan doing now? He is preparing to receive a call to serve as a full-time missionary. True to President Monson’s counsel, he is getting ready to show others the way to follow.

There are great blessings in having modern-day prophets. President Hugh B. Brown (1883–1975), a former counselor in the First Presidency, told of a discussion he had with a member of the British House of Commons who had previously been a judge. This man said he thought God had not spoken to people on earth since the first century, and President Brown responded by explaining to him about Joseph Smith and the Restoration.
“The judge sat and listened intently,” President Brown recalled. “He asked some very pointed and searching questions, and at the end of the interview he said, ‘Mr. Brown, I wonder if your people appreciate the import of your message. Do you? … If what you have told me is true, it is the greatest message that has come to earth since the angels announced the birth of Christ.’”

One of our missionaries, Sister Benson, who is attending with us this session, shared with me her desire to help her young brother. At that time, he was preparing to attend college and wasn’t sure about serving a mission. I felt impressed to invite Sister Benson to read the Book of Mormon during the first four months of her mission, marking her favorite verses, and then to send that copy to her brother.
Sister Benson sent the marked copy of the Book of Mormon and invited her brother to read from it each night. She later shared with me: “Before my mission, my brother wasn’t sure if he wanted to serve a full-time mission. Slowly, over time, as he read the Book of Mormon, he found increasing joy in his life and began to consider serving a mission.”
Two weeks before Sister Benson completed her mission, her brother received his mission call. He is now serving in the Mexico Tuxtla Gutiérrez Mission. Through the Book of Mormon, Elder Benson came to see his life with spiritual clarity, which led him to serve the Lord and trust that things would work out. That decision was a miracle—influenced by the power of the words of Christ.

In the month of February, 1848, the Twelve Apostles met at Hyde Park, Pottawattamie County, Iowa, where a small Branch of the Church was established. . . . We were in prayer and council, communing together; and what took place on that occasion? The voice of God came from on high, and spake to the Council. Every latent feeling was aroused, and every heart melted. What did it say unto us? “Let my servant Brigham step forth and receive the full power of the presiding Priesthood in my Church and kingdom.” This was the voice of the Almighty unto us at Council Bluffs, before I removed to what was called Kanesville. It has been said by some that Brigham was appointed by the people, and not by the voice of God. I do not know that this testimony has often, if ever, been given to the masses of the people before; but I am one that was present, and there are others here that were also present on that occasion, and did hear and feel the voice from heaven, and we were filled with the power of God. This is my testimony; these are my declarations unto the Saints—unto the members of the kingdom of God in the last days, and to all people.

. . . Men, women, and children came running together where we were, and asked us what was the matter. They said that their houses shook, and the ground trembled, and they did not know but that there was an earthquake. We told them that there was nothing the matter—not to be alarmed; the Lord was only whispering to us a little, and that he was probably not very far off. We felt no shaking of the earth or of the house, but were filled with the exceeding power and goodness of God. We knew and realized that we had the testimony of God within us. On the 6th day of April following, at our Annual Conference [I might say that on the coming sixth day of April at our annual conference, we’ll do precisely what they did here], held in the Log Tabernacle at Kanesville, the propriety of choosing a man to preside over the Church was investigated. In a very few minutes it was agreed to, and Brigham Young was chosen to fill that place without a dissenting voice, the people not knowing that there had been any revelation touching the matter. They ignorantly seconded the voice of the Lord from on high in his appointment. (Voice from the stand: “That is, Vox Dei, vox populi.”) Yes, the voice of God was the voice of the people. Brigham went right ahead, silently, to do the work of the Lord, and to feed his sheep, and take care of them like a faithful shepherd, leaving all vain aspirants to quarrel and contend about lineal descent, right, power, and authority.

He takes advantage of trips to do missionary work, trying to fulfill his father’s challenge of giving away a Book of Mormon every time he travels.
Ed took advantage of a track opportunity to place a Book of Mormon in some of the most prominent hands in the world. He and fellow LDS runner Farley Gerber were competing in the World University Games in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. They were excited to see that Prince Charles and Lady Diana were there as dignitaries, and even more excited to learn that the royal couple would be greeting the athletes individually. Ed and Farley decided it wouldn’t hurt to present them with a copy of the Book of Mormon, so they wrote their testimonies in one and presented it to the prince when it was their turn to shake his hand.
“He was very cordial about the whole thing,” Ed recalls. “He said, ‘Oh, you chaps are Mormons, are you? So that’s what keeps you going.’ When he walked off, he tucked the Book of Mormon in the crook of his arm, and seeing him carrying it, if you didn’t know who he was you might have thought he was a representative of the Church,” Ed recalled.

My wife’s mother, Barbara Smith Amussen, was an officiator in the Logan Temple for twenty years and a widow for forty years. She was a woman without guile. I loved her so much that I spent a lot of time with her, because she was a widow and there was no priesthood bearer in the home.
This choice woman knew the exact time she was to depart mortal life. Her husband, a Danish convert and Utah’s first pioneer jeweler and watchmaker, Carl Christian Amussen, appeared to her either in a dream or vision. She admitted, “I’m not sure which, but it was so real it seemed that he was right in the room. He said he had come to tell me that my time in mortal life was ending and that on the following Thursday (it was then Friday), I would be expected to leave mortal life.”
Her oldest daughter, Mabel, said, “Oh, Mother, you’ve been worrying about something. You’ve not been feeling well.”
Her mother replied, “Everything’s fine. I feel wonderful. There’s nothing to worry about. I just know I’ll be leaving next Thursday.”
Then she said, “Mabel, when the time comes, I’d like to pass away in your home in the upper room where I used to sit and tell the boys Book of Mormon and Church history stories when they were little fellows.”
As the time drew near, she attended fast meeting in her ward. She bore her testimony, and the bishop said she talked as though she were going on a long journey.
“She was bidding us all good-bye,” said the bishop, “expressing her love for us and the joy that had been hers working in the temple” (which was just a few meters away from the chapel). And then she bore a fervent testimony.
As the days passed, she went to the bank, drew out her small savings, paid all her bills, and went to the mortuary and picked out her casket. Then she had the water and the electrical power turned off in her home and went to Mabel’s home. The day before she died, her son came to visit her. They sat by the bed and held hands as they talked.
On the day of my mother-in-law’s death, Mabel came into the room where her mother was resting on the bed. Her mother said, “Mabel, I feel a little bit sleepy. Do not disturb me if I sleep until evening.”
Those were her last words, and she peacefully passed from this life to the next.

After her husband died of cancer, Sun Huei Lin had to start working to support her three daughters. She cleans the Taichung stake center and does paperwork at a karate club, but the family still struggles economically. “This life is a time of learning and trials,” she says. “But God lives, and He will not give us greater trials than we can bear.”
One of her husband’s colleagues offered to regularly baby-sit Sister Sun’s youngest daughter. “I wanted to share the gospel in return,” she says. So she gave the family a subscription to the Liahona (Chinese), prayed for them, and put their names on the temple prayer roll. One of the colleague’s children joined the Church and remains active.
When Sister Sun was sealed to her husband before his death, she felt that God was watching the ceremony. “I know our marriage is forever and I am only temporarily separated from my husband,” she says. She serves in her ward Relief Society presidency.

President Boyd K. Packer has counseled us to have a hymn memorized so that when an inappropriate thought comes into our minds, we can replace it with a hymn. In applying this instruction, a friend of mine explained: “One day I left my office for lunch. After I had walked for about two blocks, I noticed that I had been humming ‘my song’: ‘I Am a Child of God.’ As I chained my thoughts back several hundred yards, I realized that as I had crossed the street from my office, a young woman, inappropriately clothed, had crossed in front of me. Immediately, subconsciously, the words and music of ‘I Am a Child of God’ began to roll through my mind—to displace inappropriate thoughts.” That day my friend learned a great lesson about his ability to control his thoughts.

Otavalo, a beautiful city in northeastern Ecuador, is even more beautiful in my memory because of an experience I had there while serving in the Ecuador Quito Mission. One afternoon in September 1996 my companion and I were walking to a teaching appointment. Suddenly, some children ran out of a small, humble house, crying, “A blessing! A blessing! Give us a blessing!”
We were astonished and didn’t know what to think. We considered ignoring them and continuing on, but something prompted us to find out what was happening. We feared something terrible had taken place.
The children quickly ran back inside the house. We followed them and found a lady who was as surprised to see us as we were surprised to see her. We explained what had happened, and smiling, she told us, “The children were just playing.” We talked for a few minutes, took her name as a referral, then left.
Two days later we returned and discovered she was a member of the Church. She hadn’t gone to church for a long time, she said, mostly because she hadn’t felt anyone had encouraged her. Her children were not members of the Church. We sensed that she wanted the gospel of Jesus Christ to be part of her and her children’s lives.
We shared the message of the gospel with her children, and they were baptized two weeks later. At the baptismal service, one of the children began to cry with joy. He said his mother had changed, and he was very happy the Lord had sent the missionaries to their house.
Little did those children know that when they so playfully asked for a blessing, the Lord would answer them—in abundance. Today, the family continues to be strong and faithful in the Church.

Many years ago when at the age of 12 I was ordained a deacon, my father, who was president of our stake, took me to my first stake priesthood meeting. … He walked up to the stand, and I sat on the back row, feeling a little alone and uncomfortable in that hall filled with strong men who had been ordained to the priesthood of God. The meeting was called to order, the opening song was announced, and—as was then the custom—we all stood to sing. There were perhaps as many as 400 there. Together these men lifted their strong voices, … all singing these words with a great spirit of conviction and testimony:
Praise to the man who communed with Jehovah!
Jesus anointed that Prophet and Seer.
Blessed to open the last dispensation,
Kings shall extol him, and nations revere.
(“Praise to the Man,” Hymns, no. 27.)
They were singing of the Prophet Joseph Smith, and as they did so there came into my heart a great surge of love for and belief in the mighty Prophet of this dispensation. In my childhood I had been taught much of him in meetings and classes in our ward as well as in our home; but my experience in that stake priesthood meeting was different. I knew then, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God.1

I love nature! I like to hear the singing of the birds, the rustling of the leaves in the wind, and the sound of the sea.
Sometimes my family goes to the beach with other families. The dads play volleyball, and the moms sit under umbrellas and play with the younger children.
One afternoon I was so excited when we got to the ocean! The waves were calm, and there were small pools scattered around the shoreline. I ran to the water. I wanted to swim like a fish and collect seashells.
“Stay close, Sueli!” my mother called as she gathered the young children into the shade of the big umbrella.
“All right, Mom,” I said as I dug my toes into the wet sand.
I searched for shells and inspected the little creatures in the pools along the shore. As I splashed in one of the pools, I looked back toward my family. I could see the umbrellas in the distance. I realized I had gone too far away. I tried to swim back to the beach, but the tide had risen. The pool grew deeper as I struggled to get out.
I was getting tired, and I knew I was in danger. All I could think of was getting help from Heavenly Father. I said a prayer in my mind. As soon as I finished praying, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me to safety. It was one of my father’s friends. I am grateful that Heavenly Father answered my prayer and held out His hand by sending someone to help me.
The next time we visited the ocean I stayed close to my family, just as I can stay close to Heavenly Father through prayer.

In 1958 a group of MIT students who decided to measure the distance across the Harvard Bridge that spans the Charles River between Boston and Cambridge, Massachusetts. Exactly how they came to the decision that this action was needed is not clear but I suspect a certain level of alcohol, perhaps a substantial level of alcohol, was part of the decision process. The choice of measurement was probably also influenced by alcohol. The measurement was not in feet, inches, meters, not in any standard unit of measure but in terms of the height of a fellow classmate. His name was Oliver R. Smoots and this is what the students decided to do with him in order to measure the length of the Harvard Bridge. Smoots was placed horizontally on the bridge and every time he was laid down the distance between the bottom of his feet and the top of his head was marked. The distance between his feet and head was labeled a "Smoots" . And on this particular night the Harvard Bridge was measured in Smoots. I believe that a "Smoot"  is roughly 5 feet 7 inches in length.

I first discovered this unique measurement when I was jogging over the bridge and saw the distinctive and rather odd markings. First, five stoops were marked then ten stoops until I reached the end of the bridge where I discovered the Harvard Bridge is 364.4 Smoots in length "Plus or minus one ear."  There is no indication about whose ear was used but I assume it was Mr. Smoots. This event is has been reenacted multiple times. The tradition is over 50 years old.

Does it matter how a bridge is measured, or for that matter, how we measure our lives and the direction of our lives? I believe it does. For example when I flew to Honolulu this weekend I traveled about 3100 miles between Salt Lake City, Utah and Honolulu, Hawaii. The pilot of the plane calculated the distance of the flight, the weight of the plane, and the expected temperature and head and tail winds the flight would face. He then calculated how much fuel he needed. When I am in the middle of the Pacific Ocean I want to make sure our pilot did his calculations correctly. But what if instead of measure in miles the pilot had measured the distance in Smoots? If the plane had started out from Salt Lake and been off target because Smoots are imprecise I might not be here today. I want my pilots to use the best and most accurate method to calculate the jet fuel need to fly to Hawaii from the mainland.

Now think about being off in how you measure your life by just a small amount. Perhaps you miss judge by only one "Smoot"  or some other inappropriate measure the results could even be more disastrous. In this case the trip, the trip of life, is not 3100 miles here the trip covers eternity. And the implication of missing something that has eternal implications is almost impossible to comprehend. We need to clarify what we use to measure and validate our lives. I hope as fun as it might sound to use Smoots to measure distance the process is simply too crude to be of any significant use.

During his senior year Billy heard of a village in Mexico that had been flooded, and he organized a relief effort with some of his friends. They collected clothing and food and with a good number of trucks and trailers delivered the provisions to the ravaged town. Billy and his bride, Amy, are now living in Southern California, where he teaches early-morning seminary. A criterion for the corporate position that he ultimately took was that he would have the time he needed to continue to make a difference.

Billy took seriously the parable of the sheep and the goats as taught by Jesus and recorded in Matthew 25:34–37, 40:
Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:
For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:
Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me. . . .
Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? . . .
And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.