Gospel Story Finder

Following the martyrdom of Joseph Smith, his successor as prophet was the practical, able Brigham Young. Of Joseph Smith, Brigham Young said:
“When I first heard him preach, he brought heaven and earth together; and all the priests of the day could not tell me anything correct about heaven, hell, God, angels, or devils; they were as blind as Egyptian darkness. When I saw Joseph Smith, he took heaven, figuratively speaking, and brought it down to earth; and he took the earth, brought it up, and opened up, in plainness and simplicity, the things of God; and that is the beauty of his mission.” (Discourses of Brigham Young, sel. John A. Widtsoe, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1954, p. 458.)

We continued going to church and taking the missionary lessons. As the weeks went by, I learned much more about the Church. I wanted to do the right things. I began reading the Bible and the Book of Mormon, praying, eating good food, dressing modestly, and trying to live a Christian life. After trying all these things, I felt good about myself.
My mother, who had not wanted to go to church, continued to participate in the missionary lessons and continued to take us to church every Sunday. We made the decision to be baptized, and my mother, sister, and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on June 3, 2000. This was a decision that has changed all of our lives. My brother was too young to be baptized, and my stepfather did not share in our beliefs, but he always supported all of us in our Church-related activities and meetings.

As part of the 150th anniversary of the Church in the UK in the late 1980s, a regional conference was held in the Guildhall in Portsmouth, Hampshire. I had only been in the Church for about a year.
It was the most amazing conference I have ever been to; it had a real impact on me. What has stuck with me is the one speaker who people didn’t know was coming to talk, and that was President Gordon B. Hinkley (1910-2008). He was, at the time, First Counsellor in the First Presidency, and he had his lovely wife with him. I found the experience overwhelming; he spoke as though he was speaking to us individually and not as a group. He was so open about his thoughts and feelings, particularly about the prospect of becoming the President of the Church, if he lived that long.
I can’t remember much of what else he said, but I know that at the time I took it on board, and I changed how I lived. I wanted to be of the elect of whom he spoke, and be ready for the Second Coming, of which he also spoke. At the time he thought that the world was getting very close to that event. It was his opinion that the Second Coming might happen in his lifetime. Of course, we now know that has not been the case, but since President Hinkley died, the world has increasingly moved towards it.
His words have stuck with me, and they are still important. He was saying I need to be ever ready and prepared for that time, because I will not be given warning and the event will happen suddenly. I continue to work at it and to live as righteous a life as I can. I cannot judge myself as the Lord will judge me, but as long as I try, I know I can stand out in the crowd.

Some years ago, I went canoeing with a group of young women. The deep blue lakes surrounded by green, thickly forested hills and rocky cliffs were breathtakingly beautiful. The water sparkled on our paddles as we dipped them into the clear water, and the sun shone warmly while we moved smoothly across the lake.
However, clouds soon darkened the sky, and a stiff wind began to blow. To make any progress at all, we had to dig deeply into the water, paddling without pausing between strokes. After a few grueling hours of backbreaking work, we finally turned the corner on the large lake and discovered to our amazement and delight that the wind was blowing in the direction we wanted to go.
Quickly, we took advantage of this gift. We pulled out a small tarp and tied two of its corners to paddle handles and the other corners to my husband’s feet, which he stretched out over the gunwales of the canoe. The wind billowed the improvised sail, and we were off!
When the young women in the other canoes saw how we moved along the water with ease, they quickly improvised sails of their own. Our hearts were light with laughter and relief, grateful for the respite from the challenges of the day.

There was the older man outside Moscow’s Bolshoi Theater—where the choir had just fervently delivered its musical gospel message, including five wondrous encores—calling out to all who would hear his glee: “Lenin—first revolution! Tabernacle Choir—second revolution!”

A number of years ago, I felt inspired to commit to actively reach out to minister and to lift somebody every day. I do this through a phone call, a text message, an email, a personal visit or through some act of service or giving. Some days it is easy to identify ministering opportunities and some days I prayerfully seek to know who I can reach out to. I have found that by taking the time to focus on the needs of others, my personal challenges seem lighter, and I am happier. Interestingly, as I actively seek opportunities to assist and serve others I am regularly inspired to cross paths with families and individuals requiring assistance, who in turn become friends and a blessing in my life.

I want to reveal something to you, and I use the word reveal purposefully. I have struggled, really struggled, to frame a paragraph to express what I want to say. And I fear that when I’ve given it to you, many of you will say, “Well, I knew that already,” and regard it as simple and unimaginative—even dull; for what I want to reveal is ordinary, commonplace. That makes it very difficult to have it universally regarded as being important.
But beyond the fact that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, that there has been a restoration of His gospel through prophets—after that, this is the one truth I most want to teach my children. And now the paragraph over which I’ve labored with such exertion:
It is the misapprehension of most people that if you are good, really good, at what you do, you will eventually be both widely known and well compensated. It is the understanding of almost everyone that success, to be complete, must include a generous portion of both fame and fortune as essential ingredients. The world seems to work on that premise. The premise is false! It is not true! The Lord taught otherwise.

A recent missionary-for-a-day activity conducted by the young people in the Renton Washington Stake resulted in five baptisms in two states as the result of one referral.
Heidi Vikari and Claudia Judd of the Renton Third Ward were assigned a tracting district in an older part of the town. The two took copies of the Book of Mormon and knocked on 15 doors that day, and at the last one, a woman responded to the message. She and a nine-year-old son were taught and baptized. She then referred the missionaries to a brother in Oregon, who also accepted the gospel. He, in turn, sent missionaries to another couple who also joined the Church.
Thus, within three months of knocking on doors in the stake’s semiannual missionary-for-a-day program, one contact resulted in five baptisms.

When Rasha found out that Malina Tracy, a Beehive, would be the only one to move up from Primary that year, she came to her aid. “I know what it’s like to feel left out, and I didn’t want her to go through that,” Rasha says. “So I talked about Personal Progress, and I told her what I loved when I was a Beehive, and how much the other young women love her.”

I turned over a new leaf
Then I watched it dry up,
Ready to crumble into a brittle
Palmful of memories.
I wish I would have
Carefully laid it between
Two warm pages
Of a hopeful, promising volume,
To keep it strong and green,
And to, at least, give the appearance
Of life—
And determination.
Now the pain of changes,
From caterpillar to butterfly,
From green leaf to gold
Has been a waste,
Buried in the earth
With the embryo
Of some tender seedling.

Masaki was listening for the sounds of a boat motor. Ever since he had first awakened, he had listened. Now it was almost noon and still no boat.
“Masaki!” called his mother from the kitchen hut. “Aren’t you ever going to get that firewood for me? How can I cook your dinner with no firewood? Why do you keep standing there, looking toward the sea?”
“I’m going now, Mother,” said Masaki.
She doesn’t understand, Masaki thought, why it is so important to hear the boat coming.
Of course, Masaki’s mother knew that the white man from America was bringing his family today—everyone in the village knew that. But it was especially important to Masaki and his brothers, sisters, and cousins. They had never seen a white child before. The white children’s father had told the chief of Masaki’s village, that three white children would be on the boat today—one girl, ten years old like Masaki, and two boys, twelve and six. Today they would all move into the house that the white man had built for them on the land next to Masaki’s village.
Masaki began chopping halfheartedly at a dead branch behind his father’s grass hut. Suddenly he saw his cousin, Samesa, running down the great stone hill that overlooked the bay. Samesa was waving his hands and shouting something. Masaki dropped his knife and ran to meet him.
“They’re here! They’re here!” Samesa was shouting. “I saw the boat turning into the bay and they’re all in it! A man, a woman, and three children. Quick, come and see!”
Samesa turned and ran back up the hill, followed by the rest of the village children. By the time they had reached the crest of the hill, the boat motor had stopped. Below them they saw the white man pulling his boat up on the white sandy shore, directly in front of the new house. He saw the village children and waved at them.
But the shy children ran away when the man waved. They hid behind some of the bushes that grew on top of the hill. From there they could watch without being seen.
“Look!” exclaimed Samesa. “They all have golden hair.”
“My father says that it is because they come from the North Country. Everyone there has white skin and golden hair,” said Mary, Masaki’s cousin.
“And see the mother!” Masaki’s older sister cried out. “She wears trousers just like the man!”
They all looked at the mother, who was wearing a pair of bright red slacks. This seemed very strange to the children. They had never seen a woman wearing anything except a sulu (long, wraparound skirt).
“The small girl wears trousers too,” observed Masaki. “I’m going to a bush nearer to the new house so that I can see them better.” And with that, Masaki jumped up and ran down the great stone hill, followed by the rest of the excited children. Everyone wanted to see more of these people from America.
As Masaki and Samesa ran through the forest toward the big house, Masaki thought about his new neighbors. How strange that they should come here to Fiji, so far away from the home of their ancestors. And why do they want to farm the land here in this place where only Fijians live? How very different the children are from my own brothers and sisters!
The white children neither laughed nor shouted; nor did they splash in the water when they got out of the boat as he would have done. Staying close to their mother, the children looked around with wide, frightened eyes. How odd that they should be afraid of this place, Masaki pondered.
The children reached the edge of the clearing where they saw the beautiful new house of the white man. Masaki and Samesa crept closer to the house and hid behind some banana stalks. The other children stayed farther away, hiding in the forest bushes. With their dark skins, it was difficult to see them in the shadow of the trees. But just then, Masaki saw the little golden-haired girl looking through the window straight at him.
“Hey, Masaki!” whispered Samesa. “See that girl. I think she sees you.”
“She’s looking right at me,” agreed Masaki.
“What are you going to do?” teased Samesa. “Maybe her father will come out and give you a strapping! Or maybe her mother will cook you for dinner.”
The children who were close enough to hear Samesa’s teasing were laughing and snickering at Masaki. Then Masaki did the only thing he could do to prove that he was not afraid. He got up from his hiding place and walked straight over to the front door.
“Hello!” he called. As Masaki knew nothing of the American custom of knocking, this was all that he could do.
The father heard Masaki and came to the door. When he saw the frightened Fijian boy, he called to his own children to come. Then the father put out his hand and took Masaki’s trembling hand into his own.
“Come in, son,” he welcomed Masaki. “Come in and meet my children. They have no friends in this new place. We are having our lunch. Come eat with us, and then you can play with them.”
Masaki was taught English in school and could understand most of the words. But it was the warm, friendly smiles of the family surrounding him that induced Masaki to go inside.
Once inside the house, Masaki was glad that he had done the manly thing and had not run away like a frightened pigeon. These strangers weren’t so different after all. The little girl—her name was Alice—even knew how to play marbles! And they ate fish, just like the people of Masaki’s village, and something called potato that tasted just like the kawai that Masaki’s father planted in the garden at home.
Then, as Masaki was preparing to return to his village (for he had suddenly remembered his mother’s firewood), he saw a beautiful picture lying on an unopened box. It was of the Savior with a lamb in His arms. Masaki stood admiring the portrait as the family quietly gathered around him.
Masaki looked up at his new friends standing silently beside him. Suddenly he realized that they would never seem like strangers to him again. For they, just like him, were children of God.
It was with a full heart that Masaki raced back to the village that afternoon with his mother’s firewood. There he was met by a mob of brothers, sisters, and cousins. He had so much to tell them!

I ended up in the Orient, flying the same kind of bombers that my brother flew in England. My mission, as it turned out, was in teaching the gospel in Japan as a serviceman.
Perhaps the hardest challenge of war is living with uncertainties, not knowing how it will end or if we can go ahead with our lives.
I was issued a small serviceman’s Book of Mormon that would fit into my pocket. I carried it everywhere; I read it; and it became part of me. Things that had been a question became certain to me.
The certainties of the gospel, the truth, once you understand it, will see you through these difficult times.
It was four years before we could return to our lives. But I had learned and had a sure testimony that God is our Father, that we are His children, and that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is true.

Just My Size by May Garelick The little girl received a beautiful coat that she wore and wore—even while playing tennis! Although she grew as time went by, the coat changed, too, and it was always just the right size.

In Milwaukee, Wisconsin, stake Relief Society president Dawn Rutowski read that a newly opened home for abused children needed small quilts. More than 150 women and girls gathered on a Saturday afternoon to tie 300 quilts that would provide warmth and security for the children. (See Church News, 27 October 1990, page 10.)

My family went to the Melbourne Australia Temple to be sealed together forever. I felt warm and happy inside. It was the best feeling ever!
Malachi, age 4, Tasmania, Australia

Though the public view of the Church has been negative at times, that is changing. The members are winning respect for the restored gospel by quietly maintaining their values in public service and work. Helen Ho, a branch Relief Society president, serves as chairperson of the women’s committee in the Yuhua Constituency (a district of over 50,000). The committee in each constituency organizes cultural and educational activities for women. The functions are usually held on Sunday. However, Helen’s committee, after she explained her beliefs about the Sabbath, moved most of their activities to Saturday. Helen is excused from attending those activities that are still held on Sunday.

Two friends at school noticed my CTR ring and asked if they could have one. I asked my mom if I could get rings for everyone in my class at school. I told them what it stands for, and they couldn’t stop thanking me. I felt happy inside!
Elizabeth D., age 10, Okinawa, Japan

As a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, I participated in the process of drafting “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” It was a remarkable experience for all of us. As Church leaders travel the world, we see things—both within the Church and outside the Church. We were troubled by much of what we were seeing. We could see the people of the world wanting to define the family in ways contrary to God’s eternal plan for the happiness of His children.
In the midst of all that was stirring on this subject in the world, the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles could see the importance of declaring to the world the revealed, true role of the family in the eternal plan of God. We worked together, through the divinely inspired council system that operates even at the highest levels of the Church, to craft a proclamation that would make the Lord’s position on the family so clear that it could not be misunderstood.
Since the proclamation came out almost 10 years ago, time has overwhelmingly proven its prophetic insight. As a church we are more focused than ever in supporting and strengthening the family. Sadly, the family continues to be assaulted relentlessly throughout the world. You need only to read a newspaper or turn on the television to see how openly and viciously the war against the family is being waged. Gender is being confused, and gender roles are being repudiated. Same-gender marriage is being promoted in direct opposition to one of God’s primary purposes—for His children to experience mortality.

That same patience and gratitude deepened the love in her marriage. One daughter, Louise, who later became the seventh general president of the Relief Society, says that the only time she saw Elizabeth cry was when a cat knocked down the shelves in the cabin and broke that precious china. Thomas ordered the first set of Haviland that ZCMI shipped into the territory to replace it—a measure of love indeed, for they were struggling to make a living in Scipio, Utah, where he served as bishop and she as Relief Society president.

Jared Barry travels a lot to and from Church youth activities. “I have to cover 12 miles each way on a Wednesday night, on public transport. I leave the house at half five to be here by half six,” he says. “It’s quite odd sometimes, especially if you’ve had a long day at school or work and then have to catch one bus home, then catch another bus back out quick.

“People outside the Church can’t understand what you’re on about, but the distance isn’t far when you think of what you gain: feeling the Spirit, seeing my brothers and sisters in the gospel, meeting new friends. If you want to feel you belong somewhere, this is the place to feel it.”