Gospel Story Finder

I recently read the remarkable account of the life of the French writer Jacques Lusseyran.

At the age of seven, Jacques fell while at school, striking the corner of his teacher’s desk. The violent blow caused serious injury to his eyes, leaving him completely and permanently blind.

Jacques later wrote:
Being blind was not at all as I imagined it. . . . People . . . told me that to be blind meant not to see. Yet . . . I saw. Not at once, I admit. Not in the days immediately after the operation. . . .
. . . [But in time] I was aware of a radiance. . . . Light was there [along with joy].7

As Jacques grew, he acquired, because of his blindness, what he called a “sense of human beings.”8 This sense helped him see people through the tone of their voice.

This gift became vital when he was fifteen years old and the Nazi regime occupied Paris in June 1940. Although very young, he and his friends formed an underground resistance movement. The group chose Jacques to be their leader.

Of that time, Jacques wrote:
Every day, including Sunday, I got up . . . before it was light. The first thing I did was to kneel down and pray: “My God, give me the strength to keep my promises. . . . Now that twenty young men . . . are waiting for my orders, tell me what orders to give them. By myself I know how to do almost nothing, but if you will it I am capable of almost everything.”9

All who were nominated to join the movement had to first meet with “the blind man.”10 Jacques would listen not so much to their words as to their souls. In one year this organization of twenty grew to more than six hundred.

There was just one man he admitted to the movement of whom he was not absolutely sure, and it was that man who later betrayed them. Jacques and his companions were arrested by the Gestapo in 1943. They were shipped to Buchenwald with two thousand other Frenchmen. Only thirty of those two thousand were alive when the camp was liberated. Jacques was twenty years old.

Jacques had suffered through one of the darkest periods in modern history and had been on the brink of death. Nevertheless, he wrote:
I have not a single evil memory of those three hundred and thirty days of extreme wretchedness. I was carried by a hand. I was covered by a wing. . . . I [became] free now to help the others. . . .
I could try to show other people how to go about holding on to life. I could turn toward them the flow of light and joy which had grown so abundant in me.11

When I was learning to sew, I became very frustrated as my mother very carefully explained how to put a zipper into a piece of clothing. No matter how hard I tried to listen and comprehend, I couldn’t follow her instructions beyond a certain step. Then I had to go to her again for more directions on how to do it.
Finally I discovered that if I looked at a finished zipper while she gave instructions, and if I referred to that zipper while sewing my own, I could do it.

Plop! Plop! Bennett felt drops of paint hit his face as he pushed the paint roller up the wall.
“Oh great,” he grumbled. His arms ached, he was thirsty, and now he was covered in sticky paint spots. He turned to Mom.
“I don’t really want to do this anymore. Can we go home?”
Mom stopped painting and wiped her forehead with her arm.
“There’s still a lot of wall left to paint,” she said. “And we haven’t been here that long. If you could keep helping, that would be great.”
Bennett looked at the grimy wall. It seemed to stretch on forever. At first he had been excited to help with this service project, but now he was just bored and tired. Several other people were helping paint, but Mom was right—there was a long way to go!
“Fine,” he mumbled, picking up his paint roller.
“Why don’t we play Name That Song?” Mom said. She started humming.
Bennett smiled a little. He was really good at this game! He knew the tune right away.
“That’s ‘Nephi’s Courage’!” Bennett said. “We sang it in Primary last week.”
Mom reached over to give him a messy high five.
“I like that song because it talks about some of the hard things Nephi did,” she said. “Like getting the plates, even when he had to keep trying over and over again.”
“And building a boat!” Bennett said.
Mom nodded. “When we get tired today, maybe it would help if we think of what Nephi would do. We could try having a Nephi attitude.”
Bennett liked the idea of being like Nephi. Nephi was strong and brave and good.
Bennett imagined Nephi painting with him. He imagined Nephi standing on his tiptoes to help him reach the highest bricks. He imagined Nephi racing him to see who could paint the fastest with the least drips. He thought Nephi would probably like working hard to help someone else.
Little by little, Bennett and Mom kept painting the wall, playing Name That Song as they went along. Sometimes they took a water break under a nearby tree with the other helpers. As the sun got high and hot in the sky, Bennett realized that they were almost finished!
“Sorry I was grumpy,” Bennett told Mom as they sat in the shade. “I guess I feel like Laman and Lemuel sometimes.”
Mom laughed. “We all do! And I really appreciate your help. Thanks for not giving up.”
Bennett looked at the wall. Almost all of the grime and graffiti was now covered with fresh, clean paint. It made the whole block look brighter! Bennett grinned. He had helped make that happen!
There was just one part left to paint.
“C’mon, Mom,” Bennett said, taking a last gulp of water and picking up his paintbrush. “Let’s go and do!”
“You are a great power for good. You will make the world a better place.”

Sulueti Kama serves as the secretary for the president of the Fiji Suva Mission and has been many things—institute teacher, Church communication director, Zumba enthusiast . . . but never a gardener.
With more time on her hands during the COVID-19 shutdown, she grew green thumbs.
In May 2020, she and her husband drove from Suva to Nadi to check on friends who had lost their jobs. Their friends had large farms where they grew their own food. Whilst visiting a local nursery together, Sulueti saw rows of seedings. She was hooked. Her interest with gardening had begun.
Trays of seedlings, tomatoes, cabbages, and eggplants went home with her. She decided to plant them in pots and now has 84 pots full of edibles, including cucumbers, French beans, radishes, and herbs such as cilantro, dill, oregano, and chilies.
She learned about the best soil for planting, researched organic pesticides and traded stories with friends who are farmers. Her husband built her a greenhouse.
“It’s the best thing that ever happened to us, we found a hobby and a skill we never had before and got hooked on it,” Sulu stated.
Sulu’s Facebook posts often include photos of her plants and notations including these: “After an hour of Zumba at 5 a.m. I couldn’t wait to get home to check on my plants and pot some more. Was so excited to see my herbs—oregano and dill sprouting along with cucumbers . . . had just planted the seeds on Saturday.”
“I look forward to going home each day to see my plants and how much they’ve grown even though I’d just been working with them in the mornings.”
What will they do with all the vegetables at harvest time? Sulu knows. “It’s only my husband and me now and we will produce more than we need, so we let the bishop know. We pray our garden will turn out well so he can donate the food to people who need it.”

“Sick and ye visited me.” Do we show up in the ways people need us to? Shortly after our third child was born, I sat down to read a story on the couch with our girls. I was holding the book, had our new baby in my lap, and our two daughters were on either side of me. We weren’t very far into the book when I heard sniffling from Carly. I asked her what the matter was, and she tearfully said, “I just need an arm around.” [16] Sometimes it just takes a moment to put our arm around someone, offer an encouraging word, and reassure them that someone cares.

I was touched yesterday by Elder Eyring’s description of an enthusiastic freshman and his parents, all anticipating the beginning of a BYU education. I didn’t think much about parents and their children and my responsibility to them when I began here as a professor. I was excited about my subject and wanted to make sure my students learned to be rigorous and thoughtful in my area, but I don’t think I had a clear vision of what I could be in their lives. I discovered new dimensions to my responsibility as a professor on a number of occasions. Let me share one very simple example: Gene Dalton, a colleague of mine who is now retired, opened my eyes one time when he returned from a trip where he’d had dinner with some Church members living far from here whose daughter was attending BYU. He just happened to see on their refrigerator a big sign, “Remember Susan”—their BYU daughter. He told me with tears in his eyes how it had affected him to think of Susan away from home, with loving parents remembering her and praying she would be taught, loved, helped, and provided with the best we can give her. She must not get lost in a bureaucracy that doesn’t know her name and that processes her multiple-choice exams with a machine and that doesn’t help her to ask her questions and discover how to answer them. Somehow we must find ways to be a part of Susan’s life. We must have some effective small classes, some caring counselors, some willing faculty advisors—real people who have the time and resources to help her. The efforts to measure, to reallocate, and to hold each of us accountable may make it more likely that we can find and connect with Susan. In the end, however, we must determine, ourselves, to open our hearts and to see that the Lord is sending Susans and Johns and others of his children to be blessed and inspired and challenged by you and me.

Young Portuguese architect Alcino Silva was working in his office one December afternoon in 1976 when he heard a radio news report about a group of American missionaries who had just arrived in his city of Porto, principal city of northern Portugal. When two of them knocked at his door that evening, he was surprised that they had found his family so quickly.
From the beginning, he and his wife Maria were very receptive investigators. They immediately began living the teachings the Latter-day Saint missionaries taught them, including the law of tithing. Maria, reared as a Catholic, had “never dreamed there could be another church.” But she felt that all that the missionaries taught fit with what she already believed. “When they said the family could be eternal—not just for this life—for me it was the most marvelous thing I could have imagined.”
Then came the invitation to be baptized—and Alcino said no, they were not ready to make that kind of commitment.
His wife felt some inner turmoil over his decision, since she had already prayed about some of the missionaries’ teachings and received a witness of their truth. She didn’t know then that Alcino himself was feeling a battle going on inside his heart and mind. As the missionaries left the Silva apartment that Monday night, he was torn by conflicting desires: “Call them back. … No. … Yes, call them back. … No.”
The missionaries were to return on Friday. But at midweek they felt impressed to visit the Silvas again. “Well,” Alcino told them, “since you’re here, perhaps we can set a date for our baptism.”
Baptized in February of 1977, the Silvas joined a handful of Latter-day Saints in Porto. Both Alcino and Maria have gone on to hold a variety of leadership positions as the Church has grown in their area. He is now president of the Porto Portugal Stake, the second in his country.

During an informal fireside address held with a group of adult Latter-day Saints, the leader directing the discussion invited participation by asking the question, “How can you tell if someone is converted to Jesus Christ?” For forty-five minutes those in attendance made numerous suggestions in response to this question, and the leader carefully wrote down each answer on a large blackboard. All of the comments were thoughtful and appropriate. But after a time, this great teacher erased everything he had written. Then, acknowledging that all of the comments had been worthwhile and appreciated, he taught a vital principle: “The best and most clear indicator that we are progressing spiritually and coming unto Christ is the way we treat other people.”

It was my great privilege to know President Clark rather well. I was his printer. On occasion, he would share with me some of his most intimate thoughts, even those scriptures around which he tailored his teachings and lived his life. Late one evening I delivered some press proofs to his office situated in his home at 80 D Street here in Salt Lake City. President Clark was reading from Ecclesiastes. He was in a quiet and reflective mood. He sat back from his large desk, which was stacked with books and papers. He held the scriptures in his hand, lifted his eyes from the printed page, and read aloud to me: “Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.” (Eccl. 12:13.) He exclaimed, “A treasured truth! A profound philosophy!” Through the years that conversation has remained bright in my memory. I love, I cherish the noble word duty.

Olivia smiled as she uprooted a reluctant weed. The sun was warm, and it felt good to be weeding the vegetable garden with her family. It felt even better to be finished with school for the day. As they worked, Olivia’s older brother, Jake, started talking about President Hinckley’s six “B’s” that he was studying in seminary.
“Six bees? Like bumblebees?” Olivia asked, pointing to a fuzzy bee busily gathering pollen from a bright purple flower.
“No,” Jake said. “They’re things that we should try to be. They are be grateful, be clean, be true, be humble, be prayerful, and be smart.”
Be smart! Olivia’s eyes opened wide with dismay, and her heart seemed to drop into her tennis shoes. “President Hinckley says we should be smart?” At her baptism recently she had promised to keep the commandments, and that surely included following the prophet. But if there was one thing she could never be, it was smart.
Olivia dreaded school. Mr. Blaine, her third-grade teacher, was nice, but he made the class do multiplication tables, which tangled up in Olivia’s brain like barbed wire. She felt dumb when she got bad scores on her tests and worksheets. She tried hard, but her best just didn’t seem to be good enough. The rest of the evening Olivia worried that her grades were a terrible disappointment to Heavenly Father.
The next day at school, she felt even worse about “be smart” when she missed five words on her spelling test and couldn’t find Madagascar on the globe. She was relieved when recess came.
As Olivia ran across the grass with her friends, she noticed a group of fifth graders looking at something. Forgetting her problems for a moment, she went over to investigate.
“What are you looking at?” she asked a tall girl.
“Oh, we found a needle, like the ones doctors give you shots with.” One of the older boys bent to pick up the needle. A sick feeling came over Olivia, and she knew somehow that this was not a thing they should be playing with. “Wait!” she yelled. “Don’t touch it!”
The boy stopped short, staring at Olivia with raised eyebrows.
“Well, it’s, uh, way bad to t-touch stuff like th-that,” she stammered, feeling stupid for telling an older boy what to do.
But then a recent family home evening lesson came back clearly to her mind. “If we listen to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, He will help us know when something is wrong,” Mom had said.
Olivia looked the boy in the eye. “We should probably tell a teacher to come get it instead.”
One of the other third-graders ran quickly across the grass and brought back Mr. Blaine. “Olivia told us not to touch it,” the older boy said as Mr. Blaine bent over the sharp needle.
“Smart thinking, Olivia!” Mr. Blaine exclaimed.
Smart thinking? A warm glow replaced the sick feeling that had filled Olivia moments before. Wow! She had remembered her mom’s counsel about listening to the Holy Ghost, and she had followed His promptings. That was something a smart person would do!
Running across the playground, Olivia felt much better about trying to be smart.

Of Swedish ancestry, Frances, with her native poise and graciousness, was easily integrated into the Monson clan at the Terrace. And at Tom’s first meeting with her parents, he acquired preferred status when it was learned that his great uncle, Elias Monson, had helped convert the Johnson family in Sweden. Tears filled the eyes of Franz and Hildur Johnson as they embraced their future son-in-law. Although the incident was tinged with mild embarrassment for Frances, who hardly anticipated such a reception for her young boyfriend, she and Tom reflected later that the relationship of their Swedish ancestors may have portended more than mere coincidence.

3. Serve and Lift Others
Our talents are gifts given to us to bless the lives of others. Don’t hide your talents or play small. Struggling students and overachieving students often receive attention, but what about the ordinary ones in the middle? Are there invisible people around you that you should take notice of? Do we look for others that may be standing outside our circle and pull them in? I remember years ago coming out of Relief Society in time to see my daughter standing alone outside the circle of girls in her Young Women class. The sad look on her face will never be erased from my memory. In our Church, these things should never happen. I challenge you to look out for the ones that need to be loved and pulled into your circle. It is our opportunity to represent the Lord and share His love.

When the Gonzales family of the Santa Maria (California) First Ward decided to visit their homeland of Argentina, young women in the ward wanted to do something to strengthen feelings of individual worth in their Argentine sisters. They wrote letters, made scripture bookmarks, and beaded YW value-colored friendship bracelets for young women in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Sister Gonzales delivered the gifts to the young women of the Ramos Mejia Ward, who in turn sent letters and candy to the young women in California. Girls in both countries realized that the gospel and the Young Women values are the same no matter where you go.

In our infantry battalion of some 500 men, there were three of us who were Latter-day Saints. Sundays in Vietnam usually found us somewhere in the jungle. But we would find a few moments to get together. We would take some canned bread from our C-rations and a cup of warm water from a canteen, one of us would bless these humble emblems and pass them to the rest of us. We would share our testimonies and have a prayer. Then, we would pick up our rifles and return to our duties. My dear brothers and sisters, I testify to you that never in any of our beautiful chapels have I felt the Spirit of the Lord more profoundly than I did in those simple jungle sacrament services. Those words: “that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” took on a literal meaning that they have never lost.

Poor communication can ruin good relationships in a hurry. Let’s say Susan, a Laurel, is just coming home past her curfew. Her dad is waiting up for her.
Dad: Where have you been, Susan?
Susan: Don’t you trust me?
Dad: Your mom and I were worried.
Susan: I’m old enough to go out without you checking up on me all the time.
Dad: I don’t know if you should go to any more parties for a while if you can’t get home on time.
Susan: But Dad, I’m only a little late. You’re so unfair!
Susan then storms up to her room and slams the door. Obviously, not much family unity is being built in this situation.

Last January my sweetheart, Grace, and I received an assignment to visit the members in the Philippines who were devastated by a major earthquake and a super typhoon. We rejoiced because the assignment was an answer to our prayers and a testament to the mercy and goodness of a loving Father in Heaven. It provided some closure to our longing to personally express to them our love and concern.
Most of the members we met were still living in temporary shelters like tents, community centers, and Church meetinghouses. The homes we visited had either partial roofing or no roofing at all. The people did not have much to begin with, and what little they had was swept away. There was mud and debris everywhere. However, they were full of gratitude for the little help they received and were in good spirits despite their very difficult circumstances. When we asked them how they were coping, everyone responded with a resounding, “We’re OK.” Obviously, their faith in Jesus Christ gave them hope that everything would work out eventually. Home after home, tent after tent, Sister Teh and I were being taught by these faithful Saints.

During recess I was standing in the middle of a group of kids my age when one of the girls started swearing. Another boy soon joined in, and I felt very uncomfortable. I knew Heavenly Father would not want us to use these words. I asked them to stop swearing, but they continued to use bad language. I decided to walk away so they knew I wasn’t going to participate. I was sad they didn’t listen, but I knew I had stood up for what I believed in. I knew that Heavenly Father was happy too.
Caleb B., age 12, Utah, USA

It was Saturday morning, and that meant it was time for weekly chores.
“Olivia, it’s your turn to pull weeds,” Mom said.
Olivia scrunched her face into a frown. “I don’t like weeding.”
“It can be fun if you change your attitude,” Mom said with a smile. “And you can get it done quickly if you get to work!”
Olivia trudged outside and plopped down on the bottom stair on the side of the house. She glared at the weeds in the flower bed. After a minute, she slowly got on her knees and began to pull a weed.
Forty minutes later, Olivia had pulled only a few weeds. She had spent most of her time daydreaming about ice cream and games she could be playing with her friend Lily. The tiny weeds that were left to pull looked like an entire forest to Olivia. She sighed. She was hot, and this was boring!
“It’s not fair!” she said to herself. She thought of her younger brother, who had been assigned to dust the furniture. “Why doesn’t Brian have to weed? He always gets the easy jobs!”
After pulling a few more weeds, Olivia was tired and ready to quit. She sat back and looked at her family’s cat, Link, who was sunning himself on the driveway.
“Here, kitty kitty kitty!” she called.
Link ran to her and rubbed his face against her arm. Running her fingers through his silky fur, Olivia quickly forgot about her weeding. She tipped her head sideways, making her ponytail wiggle so Link would bat at her hair.
Then she heard Mom’s voice from the kitchen window: “Olivia, are you done weeding?”
Hoping that Mom was too busy to check her work, Olivia opened her mouth to say yes. But as she did, a bad feeling came inside her. She hesitated. She thought about being baptized a few days before. She knew she had promised Heavenly Father that she would obey His commandments so that she could have the Holy Ghost with her. She remembered that she could not feel the Spirit if she lied.
Suddenly, Olivia really wanted to tell the truth. She knew this strong feeling was from the Holy Ghost, and it filled her with courage.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t finished.”
“Well, you’d better finish or you won’t have time to play with your friends today,” Mom said.
Olivia still didn’t want to finish weeding, but she felt happy anyway. She thought Heavenly Father would be glad that she had decided to be honest. She jumped up and ran into the house.
“Mom, Mom!” Olivia said. “Guess what happened?” She told Mom about wanting to lie but then deciding to tell the truth. “I chose the right! I stayed clean, and I feel so good!”
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said.
Olivia smiled and hugged Mom. Then she skipped outside to finish weeding.

“The greatest hardship I passed through on our journey was the day before we got to Laramie, Wyoming. The cattle were tired and footsore and the traveling was very hard so Father told us that morning we must all walk. No riding that day. I shall never forget that memorable walk, the sand was ankle deep to men and women and much deeper to the cattle and wagons. When we camped that night, we had traveled 16 kilometers I thought it was a thousand and wished many times that day that I was someplace where the people didn’t get tired.”

“Unity Among All His People” declares the sign carried by the Young Women of the Bismarck North Dakota Ward. Dressed in their Native American “fancy shawls,” they are marching in the International Powwow and Bismarck Folkfest Parade ahead of a grand float, complete with a large headdress. The Bismarck Young Women have become a fixture in the parade over the last several years, and their float has won multiple first-prize honors. Much of this success is thanks to the guidance and inspiration of Sister Marilyn One Feather, who started the unity float.
Sister One Feather wanted the float project to promote unity. She invited the Young Women to be involved in building and decorating the float, which encouraged a spirit of friendship among the girls. Speaking of the experience, Mia Maid Barbara Gietzen said, “It builds faith. It takes a lot of faith to get these things together.”
During the parade, Mia Maids Jenna Byzewski and Mindy Bowen, who both have Native American ancestry, participated in traditional dances alongside the float with several other Native American youth from the community. This kind of collaboration and interaction will, Sister One Feather hopes, foster a greater spirit of fellowship within the community at large.
The float brought the Young Women together as a group and taught them the value of unity—within the Church and the community. “Having unity in your life is really important,” says Beehive Becky Gietzen. “Everybody—not just the people you hang around with, but everybody—should be a part of the group. You try not to leave anybody out.”