Gospel Story Finder

My children munched their popcorn excitedly as I told them a story about something that had happened to me when I was young.
“I was sitting on the school bus as Jerry came down the aisle looking for the kid who had turned in his friend for vandalizing the school. One by one Jerry grabbed each kid and tried to force a confession. I was scared—really scared—because I was the one he was looking for! I looked to see if I could jump out the window, but I couldn’t. Jerry was getting closer.”
Every one of my children stopped eating their popcorn.
“Jerry grabbed a skinny kid with glasses,” I continued. “‘You finked, didn’t you?’ he demanded.
“‘No, I didn’t,’ the kid insisted.
“But Jerry didn’t believe him. ‘You are going to get it!’ he yelled, and the skinny kid started to cry. What should I do? I was off the hook, but here was an innocent kid facing a beating for something I had done.”
By now my children were feeling a bit of the same anxiety I had felt.
“I prayed for help,” I told my children, “and the thought came, ‘What would Jesus do?’ I stood up and yelled, ‘Leave him alone! He didn’t do it—I did!’”
My children sat with their mouths open, waiting to hear what had happened to me—their dad—not to some television character.

Shortly after Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery received the priesthood from heavenly messengers in 1829, they were shown in revelation how they should proceed to organize the Church again on earth. Doctrine and Covenants 20 gives the reason for this specific date: “The rise of the Church of Christ in these last days, being one thousand eight hundred and thirty years since the coming of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in the flesh, it being regularly organized and established agreeable to [all] the laws of [the] country, by the will and commandments of God, in the fourth month, … on the sixth day of the month which is called April” (D&C 20:1).
Peter Whitmer Sr. offered his home for the organization that was scheduled for Tuesday, April 6, 1830, in accordance with previously received revelations. At the appointed hour, somewhere around 60 people assembled to witness the formal organization of the Church of Jesus Christ.
The meeting was simple. Joseph Smith, then 24 years of age, called the group to order and designated five associates—Oliver Cowdery, Hyrum Smith, Peter Whitmer Jr., Samuel H. Smith, and David Whitmer—to join him to meet New York’s legal requirements for the incorporation of a religious society. After kneeling in solemn prayer, Joseph asked those present if they were willing to accept him and Oliver as their teachers and spiritual advisers. Everyone raised their hands to the affirmative. Although they had previously received the Melchizedek Priesthood, Joseph and Oliver ordained each other to the office of elder. They did this to signify that they were elders in the newly organized Church. The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was administered next. The Restoration of the gospel clarified the use and meaning of the sacrament, which through dark periods of the Apostasy had suffered many perversions. By revelation, the members of the Church were counseled, “It is expedient that the church meet together often to partake of bread and wine in the remembrance of the Lord Jesus” (D&C 20:75).

When I was young, during the Christmas holidays my mother would sometimes sing me to sleep with a song called “Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep” from the movie White Christmas.1 The song includes the powerful advice that if your concerns are keeping you awake, thinking about your blessings can bring you peace and rest.
I’m more than 70 years old now, and it’s funny how after so many years I can still imagine my mother singing that song with me as I drifted off to sleep. Singing it now still brings me peace.

In 1980, when President Ezra Taft Benson was serving as President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he gave a powerful message about obedience to the prophets at a BYU devotional in the Marriott Center. His great talk, titled “Fourteen Fundamentals in Following the Prophet,” touched my heart. It made me feel good that I had made the decision to follow the prophets for the rest of my life when I accepted baptism in the Lord’s true Church.

Through missionary service, new converts receive great blessings, but the missionary also has his life changed.
I met one of our Scottish missionaries a few weeks ago at a stake conference in the East. He told me of his marriage and Church activity since returning home. He said: “Do you remember what you told me when I was released from my mission?”
I recalled that this elder was from a rural, cowboy town in Idaho, and I had asked him what he was going to do when he returned home. He said, “Just go back home. I can’t afford to go to college.” Then he told me he had some fear that the old gang would be waiting for him, and he might drift back into some old habits.
He had become one of our leaders, the kind of missionary you could trust with any assignment. I advised him to go back home and to invite his old friends to attend sacrament meeting, where he was to make his report, to hear of the change that had come into his life. I then counseled: “Spend some time with your parents, and then take the first bus out of town. A way will be opened up for you to get into college and develop the newly found talents you discovered in the mission field.”
And as I stood and looked upon this young man at the stake conference, I saw the rough stone was now polished and would continue to change lives for good.

I first learned the names of the ancient and modern apostles in Primary. My mother was one of my teachers. I am certain that never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that any of those whom she taught would one day sit in the council of the special witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Whether gardening or playing, the Gándola children like being outside. They jump on their trampoline, ride bikes, and play in the trees. Shawn and Micah are great tree-climbers, and Danielle and Lucas like hunting for green pinecones. One day, their next-door neighbor pruned some branches that fell down in the Gándolas’ yard and formed a wall of leaves. Shawn made a hole through them to serve as a door, and he calls the leaf-wall his fort.

“She can’t see! The fever has left Sister Stratton completely blind!” The news swept rapidly through the little pioneer town of Virgin, Utah. Sister Emily Amanda Gardner Stratton, beloved Primary president in the Virgin Ward, had lost her sight following a sudden illness. She had lovingly and faithfully served the children in this southern Utah town for 15 years, and she had helped many of the ward members in times of trouble. Now she needed help. But what could the children and ward members do?
The local doctor had done everything he could for her and had advised her family to take her to the nearest hospital, which was in St. George, Utah. He said her only hope of seeing again was to receive the help available at the hospital.
For weeks, the doctors in St. George tried every treatment they knew, but nothing worked. When their last treatment failed, Sister Stratton sent word that she wanted to come home.
The children and Primary workers in Virgin had prayed diligently for her recovery. When they learned the doctors had given up, they were even more determined to do whatever they could to help their dedicated Primary president.
Someone suggested they hold a special fast for her. The children knew that if they fasted and prayed with faith, Heavenly Father would help Sister Stratton in ways they could not. Heavenly Father would hear their prayers and answer them according to His will.
It was difficult to go all day without food, but even the youngest Primary children fasted and prayed for their beloved leader.
That evening, they all met at the tiny meetinghouse to close their fast with prayer. Afterward, they felt great peace and joy and knew that Heavenly Father had heard their prayers. The sunset was glorious, casting rays of red and gold throughout the western sky as they went to their homes.
A few days later, Sister Stratton’s wagon creaked as it rolled along the dusty road toward Virgin. The children and Primary leaders hurried to greet her and tell her of their special fast.
“What time was your fast meeting, children?” Sister Stratton asked.
“It was at sunset!” one child exclaimed.
Sister Stratton sat back. Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. “At sunset on that day, I was sitting in a chair by the west window of my hospital room. As I looked up, I saw the sunset for the first time since the fever stole my sight. Yes, children, I can see!”
The loving prayers and faithful fasting of the Virgin Ward Primary had been answered with a miracle. For the rest of Sister Stratton’s life, she was blessed with perfect eyesight.

Almost fifty years ago, I knew a boy, even a priest, who held the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood. As the bishop, I was his quorum president. This boy, Robert, stuttered and stammered. … Self-conscious, shy, fearful of himself and all others, he had an impediment of speech which was devastating to him. Never did he fulfill an assignment; never would he look another in the eye; always would he gaze downward. Then one day, through an unusual set of circumstances, he accepted an assignment to … baptize another.
I sat next to him in the baptistry of the sacred Tabernacle. He was dressed in immaculate white, prepared for the ordinance he was to perform. I asked Robert how he felt. He gazed at the floor and stuttered almost incoherently that he felt terrible.
We both prayed fervently that he would be made equal to his task. Then the clerk read the words: “Nancy Ann McArthur will now be baptized by Robert Williams, a priest.” Robert left my side, stepped into the font, took little Nancy by the hand, and helped her into the water. … He then gazed as though toward heaven and, with his right arm to the square, [declared,] “Nancy Ann McArthur, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Not once did he stammer. Not once did he stutter. Not once did he falter. A modern miracle had been witnessed.
In the dressing room, as I congratulated Robert, I expected to hear this same uninterrupted flow of speech. I was wrong. He gazed downward and stammered his reply of gratitude.
I testify that when Robert acted in the authority of the Aaronic Priesthood, he spoke with power, with conviction, and with heavenly help.(See Ensign, February 2002, pages 2–5.)

As members of the Church enter the London Temple, immediately ahead of them is a reception desk. To the right of this desk, a painting shows a row of buildings in the distance with a bridge in the foreground. The stone bridge crosses the river Monnow and is the way into the little castle town of Skenfrith near Abergavenny.
The river is quite deep in places, and the right-hand side looking from the Bell Inn has steps leading down to the river.
This is the place where the first recorded convert baptism in South Wales, of James W. Palmer, took place on 13 April 1840. The baptism was performed by Wilford Woodruff, one of the Quorum of the Twelve, then serving as a missionary in the British Isles.
James W. Palmer kept a journal while serving as a missionary after his baptism. It includes the following entry in November 1840: “I preached at Skenfrith.” A later journal entry reads, “We now visited Skenfrith again… On Monday I baptised John Preece and William Williams in the river Monnow”.
Thus the story comes full circle, as the first convert to be baptised into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Skenfrith is subsequently instrumental in the conversion and baptism of further converts, there in the river Monnow.

Going to school in Montreal offers special challenges to the two young women. They are the only Latter-day Saints in a high school of 1,500 students. “The tough part is that the people can’t understand our principles,” says Chantal. “Sometimes when our friends find out our religion, their parents tell them not to see us any more. But we’ve found that our example is the best missionary work we can do.”
Nathalie agrees. “When we take the subway to Church, people notice us walking in dresses and know that we’re not like other young people. There’s something different about us.
“Last year I asked my math teacher to write something in my yearbook. My teacher wrote: ‘A year ago I saw you in the corridor and didn’t know you, but wanted you in my class this year because I saw how nice you were with people.’ To me, that’s missionary work.” Chantal has had similar experiences.

Some years ago I was invited to speak to a group at Harvard University. At that time a member of the Church was campaigning for national office and this created much interest.
Both faculty members and students were to be present. I, of course, hoped that the gospel message would be accepted and that the meeting would end in harmony of views.
As I prayed that this might result, there came to me the strong impression that this prayer would not be answered.
I determined that however preposterous talk of angels and golden plates and restoration might be to them, I would teach the truth with quiet confidence, for I have a testimony of the truth. If some must come from the meeting unsettled and disturbed, it would not be me. Let them be disturbed, if they would.
It was as the Spirit foretold. Some shook their heads in amazement, even cynical amusement, that anyone could believe such things.
But I was at peace. I had taught the truth, and they could accept it or reject it as they pleased.
There is always the hope, and often it is true, that one among them with an open mind may admit one simple thought: “Could it possibly be true?” Combine that thought with sincere prayer, and one more soul enters a private sacred grove to find the answer to “Which of all the churches is true, and which should I join?”

Cold wind blew as Brigham Young arrived at Sugar Creek on the evening of February 15, 1846. Scattered around a snowy patch of woods, not far from an icy brook, hundreds of Saints shivered in damp coats and blankets. Many families collected around fires or underneath tents fashioned from bedsheets or wagon covers. Others huddled together in carriages or wagons for warmth.1

Right away Brigham knew he needed to organize the camp. With the help of other Church leaders, he divided the Saints into companies and called captains to lead them. He warned against taking unnecessary trips back to Nauvoo, being idle, and borrowing without permission. Men were to protect the camp constantly and monitor cleanliness, and each family was to pray together mornings and evenings.2

A good spirit soon settled over the camp. Safely out of Nauvoo, the Saints worried less about mobs or government threats to stop the exodus. In the evenings, a brass band played lively music while the men and women danced. Saints who practiced plural marriage also became less guarded and began to speak openly about the principle and how it linked their families together.3

Many great spiritual experiences have taken place in the Alberta Temple. Among them was one that resulted from the fervent prayers of the parents of a young elder who was drowned while on his way to a mission in South America. His grieving father and mother could not be comforted.
One evening while the father was in the Alberta Temple, he heard his son’s voice, although he did not see him. The young elder told his father that the grieving of his parents was making it impossible for their son to fill the heavenly mission to which he had been called. Then the boy promised that as a witness to the importance of the work he had been called to do, the father would be asked to speak at a special meeting that day in the temple.
Unexpectedly that afternoon the temple president stopped the work of those in the temple and announced that there would be a testimony meeting and asked several people to participate. The father anxiously waited. When another man was announced as the concluding speaker, the sorrowing father left the meeting, fearful that the visit with his son had been only his imagination.
Before the man had left the building, however, the temple president arose and announced that he had heard a voice directing him to ask this man whose son had been drowned to speak to the group. Those in the room reported that the father had left. “Then go and find him,” the president urged.
When the father returned to the meeting, he told the group of his strange experience while tears of comfort and joy glistened in his peace-filled eyes.

Duluth Stake Primary
“Primary Temple Day” was an exciting experience for the Primary children of the Duluth Minnesota Stake. They participated in temple-themed activities, games, and songs, then toured the grounds of the St. Paul Temple and even visited with the temple president.

My dear brothers and sisters, a letter I received some time ago introduces the subject of my talk. The writer was contemplating a temple marriage to a man whose eternal companion had died. She would be a second wife. She asked this question: would she be able to have her own house in the next life, or would she have to live with her husband and his first wife? I just told her to trust the Lord.

This is our heritage. In this dispensation, from the days of our pioneer forefathers, we have been so taught. I recall a talk given by President Hinckley several years ago wherein he said: “May I take you back 142 years when there was, of course, no tabernacle here, nor temple, nor Temple Square. On July 24, 1847, the pioneer company of our people came into this valley. An advance group had arrived a day or two earlier. Brigham Young arrived on Saturday. The next day, Sabbath services were held both in the morning and in the afternoon. There was no hall of any kind in which to meet. I suppose that in the blistering heat of that July Sunday they sat on the tongues of their wagons and leaned against the wheels while the Brethren spoke. The season was late, and they were faced with a gargantuan and immediate task if they were to grow seed for the next season. But President Young pleaded with them not to violate the Sabbath then or in the future.”

Can we possibly imagine how tempting it must have been for our pioneer forefathers to break the Sabbath day? Their survival depended upon the food they could grow and harvest. Yet their leaders counseled them to exercise faith in the promises of the Lord and to respect the Sabbath day.

For Sister Emrazian, the theme “Our Heritage of Faith” aligned with the teachings of her grandfather.
“He had a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, and he made sure we knew it,” she said. Her grandfather joined the Church in Turkey in 1893, shortly after the first missionaries arrived in the country. “He was eager to share it with his family,” she said. “When Lehi ate the fruit from the tree of life, it was so delicious he wanted to share it with his family. With my Tree of Life, I pay tribute to my family. I like to keep the heritage alive.”

Perhaps his thoughts turned to his good friend Porter Rockwell, now 30, who at the last account was still languishing in the Missouri prison where he had been for seven months. Because Porter was being illegally held, it did not seem likely that efforts on the part of the Saints in Illinois would secure his release.
Apparently the 38-year-old Prophet, who had a reputation for hospitality, spent the remainder of the day with his family and associates. That evening a large group also dined at the Prophet’s house before turning to music, dancing, and other festivities in the tradition of Christmas in that day.
Latecoming guests, dressed in their best, arrived during the evening hours on that Monday. The troubles of the Saints, past and present, were temporarily forgotten as the guests enjoyed the festivities. Then the spirit of the evening was disrupted when a gaunt, seemingly drunk, unwashed Missourian, straggly and unkempt hair brushing his shoulders, forced his way into the room.
Efforts were made to throw the ruffian out, but he was too powerful. In the ensuing struggle, Joseph had a good look at the man. It was his friend, Porter!
The atmosphere cleared as friends gathered around Rockwell and welcomed him home. He explained how he had been honorably released after seven months in prison and had worked his way home through hostile territory. Because his feet were injured and men were seeking his life, it had taken him 12 days. He had just arrived in Nauvoo. The trick he’d played on the Prophet and his guests was merely his idea of fun.
Rockwell’s safe return climaxed the day for Joseph on his last Christmas, the Christmas before the summer guns at Carthage.

My teeth hurt. I got my braces tightened yesterday, and they still hurt. I hope they feel better by next Tuesday when we have our party with the Scouts. We’re all going over to Sister Marshall’s house to make pizza and play games. I hope Doug Richards goes. He hardly ever comes to church anymore. No one knows why either. He lives around the corner from me. I see him a lot because he walks past our house to go home from school. We never talk though. Jenny, my best friend, thinks he’s cute. She always comes home from school with me and makes me sit on the front step in the cold to talk with her until he goes by. The whole time he walks by our house she sits and giggles. That’s so dumb. She never says anything—just giggles. He always looks mad, and yesterday he walked on the other side of the street. I feel dumb on the front step. I hope he doesn’t think I’m like Jenny. I wish I knew what to do when he walks by so I could make a good impression on him. He is kind of cute.
Jenny was sick yesterday so she didn’t come over and sit on the front porch, but I was coming home from the store with my mom the same time Doug walked by. My mom used to teach him in Primary, so she waved and yelled practically loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, “Hi, Doug! How are you?” I was so embarrassed. Sometimes I think my mother embarrasses me on purpose. He said he was fine, and then before I had a chance to run in the house he said, “Hi, Marcy.” My temperature shot up, and I probably turned red, but I said, “Hi.” I hope he heard me. I didn’t say it very loud. I don’t know why I was so embarrassed and warm all of a sudden. It was even cold outside. My body is so stupid sometimes.
Church was really good today. In Sunday School Brother Ferguson tried to give a lesson on missionary work. Our class is so noisy all the time. We’ve had three teachers now, but no one wants us. Robin and I are the only ones who ever listen except Leslie Powell, who is the teacher’s pet, and Kyle, because his dad is the teacher. The lesson was really good though. He said that a good place to start missionary work is trying to get the people in the ward who are inactive to come. That gave me an idea. I’m going to be a missionary to Doug. I can’t be shy forever. Next time I see him I’ll tell him about the ward dinner we’re having in a couple of weeks. His whole family is inactive. They used to come to church a long time ago, but then they just kind of quit. I’ll get Doug first; then I’ll help him get the rest of his family. This is a great plan! Sometimes I’m smarter than I think.
I blew it! I saw Doug at school today, and I blew it. I was just getting out of my French class and he was getting out of art, which is across the hall from my classroom. He was walking toward me to go to his locker, and I was walking toward him to go pick up Robin from her orchestra class. We looked at each other and put on our half-and-half smiles. I just kept walking toward him, staring at him with that stupid grin on my face, and before I could get enough courage to say anything, he had gone past me. Boy, am I stupid. I feel like a complete failure. I don’t even want to think about it anymore.
I tried again today, and this time it worked. It was really a nice day outside, so I decided to go out in front and play with Maynard, our dog. I had just barely thrown a stick for him and he had gone to get it when I looked up just in time to see Doug coming down the street. My first reaction was to run, but I caught myself and decided I’d better do it now or never. By this time, Maynard was bringing the stick back to me so I took it and very cleverly happened to throw it almost right next to where Doug was walking. Then Doug did something I didn’t expect. He picked up the stick before Maynard got to it and threw it back to me. Before I knew it we had a fun game of Keep Away going with poor Maynard in the middle. Maynard didn’t think it was so fun, so I dropped the stick on purpose, and he took it and fell asleep under the tree. Doug asked me why I did that, so I had to explain that Maynard was getting old and he can’t exercise much. He said, “Oh,” picked up his books, and started walking away. This time I called after him. I asked him if he wanted to do me a favor and buy a ticket to the ward dinner this Friday night. I made it sound like I really had to sell them fast, but no one was buying them. Actually my dad was really the one selling them, but I felt like I should help out. I told him how much they cost. I told him to bring his whole family if he wanted to because they could get a good deal on family tickets. He said he’d ask his mom, and then he left. I finally asked him! I couldn’t believe it was actually me talking, but it was and I’m not so dumb after all.
Doug’s mom called my mom today asking about the ward dinner. She wants to go. She always wanted her family to come back to church, but her husband didn’t seem interested. He’s out of town this week, so she wants to do it. My mom was surprised because she didn’t think Doug would even remember about the dinner. Doug’s mom bought a ticket for the whole family. I’m so excited!
Tonight was the dinner. It was pretty good. The best part was when Sister Richards and all six kids came in. The whole ward was so nice to them. They sat across the table from us, and Sister Richards and my mom got to be good friends. I talked to Doug a little bit, like when I asked him if he liked his dinner. After he got through eating he went off with Kyle Ferguson and Scott Sullivan. Doug seemed like he was really having a good time. I was glad Kyle and Scott were nice to him because I didn’t know what to say to him. His mother and little brothers and sisters seemed to be having fun too. All in all, I would say that tonight was a very good night.
Today in church everyone had the shock of their lives when they turned around and saw the whole Richards family walking in, led by Brother Richards! He seemed happy to be there. I was embarrassed at how noisy our Sunday School class was for Doug, but it was quieter than usual, and he was making some of the noise.
Doug’s family has been coming to church just about every week now. The whole family just fits right in. I think they’re going to come back in for good now. I’m glad I got up enough courage to ask Doug to that dinner. I must admit that it wasn’t all me though. I just know that Heavenly Father had something to do with the Richards family too. I’ll bet he’s even happier than I am that they’re back in the Church. Anyway, being a missionary is so much fun. It makes you feel so good inside. I think I’ll do it again. Watch out world! Marcy Elizabeth Burnham, the girl with the hair that does something and straight teeth, is on the move.