Gospel Story Finder

Not many weeks after the Church was organized, the Lord directed Emma Smith to “make a selection of sacred hymns, … which is pleasing unto me, to be had in my church” (Doctrine and Covenants 25:11). The Saints needed ways to learn newly revealed gospel truths and to unite in praising God. And hymns would be at the heart of their worship and learning.
Years ago, when my family joined the Church, my parents encouraged us to learn the music of our new faith. I have some vivid memories of that time:
Memorizing “Prayer Is the Soul’s Sincere Desire” (Hymns, no. 145) with my family.
Hearing “O My Father” (Hymns, no. 292) and learning that I have a Heavenly Father and Mother whom I can see again one day.
Feeling God’s love while singing “My Heavenly Father Loves Me” (Children’s Songbook, 228–29)—even though I lived in a desert and had never actually seen a lilac tree!
Fast forward to a sacrament meeting in late February 2020. Several members of our ward were dealing with cancer, and I felt deeply comforted when the ward choir sang “How Firm a Foundation” (Hymns, no. 85). A few weeks later, a series of unnerving events came along: quarantines, church cancellations, and a series of earthquakes and aftershocks. And that hymn started playing through my mind again:
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

“Mom, cough, cough, can I please go?” Haley asked.
“Listen to you. You’re even coughing now while you’re pretending to be well. I’m sorry, Haley, but you and I will have to stay home from church today,” Mom said.
Haley climbed back in bed with her toy stuffed animals. Her family hadn’t always gone to church. But when they moved to their new home, her parents decided it was time to go back to church. Now Haley, her little brother Nick, and their parents attended church every Sunday.
Haley loved going to church. She liked singing time. She liked the prayers. She liked the talks the other children gave. She liked the sacrament. She liked her class. Every week, all through church, she felt happy, and she knew going to church was right.
So she was excited when Mom and Dad announced a few weeks ago at dinner that they would be going to the temple soon to be sealed as a family. They had talked about keeping the commandments and being worthy to go to the temple. After that, when Haley went to church, she thought about how it was helping her family be eternal and she liked it even better.
But now she was sick and would miss church. Haley lay on her bed and looked around her room. If she had to stay home, she wanted to at least do something reverent.
Watch TV? That didn’t feel right.
Build with blocks? Probably not.
Color? Maybe.
Listen to songs? If they were Church songs.
Read books? Maybe her illustrated scriptures.
Haley’s eyes had gone all the way around her room. Then she looked at her bed. She was surrounded by stuffed animals: Clara the bear, Madeleine the toucan, Bill the alligator, Summer Daylight the moose, and Jane the purple fuzz ball.
And then Haley had an idea. She put her pillow on her bed like a bench and set each of her stuffed animals on it. Then she announced: “Thank you for coming to Primary, everyone. Today we are going to sing ‘I Am a Child of God.’ ”
Haley held Clara’s arm and helped her lead the music. Then Bill gave a talk about prayer, Madeleine read a story from Haley’s illustrated scriptures, and Summer Daylight had everyone color a picture for sharing time. Jane the purple fuzz ball didn’t have a mouth, but she listened carefully the whole time.
When her stuffed animal Primary was over, Haley put each of the animals back to sleep on her bed and she lay down too.
Next week she could go to real church and Primary, but she was glad that today she had tried to be reverent even though she couldn’t go.

While my devotional is not on gratitude, please permit me to briefly express my gratitude to the love of my life, my wife Karrie. She is my best friend, my partner, and my better half. This past summer marked 12 years since she and I deplaned with our children in Honolulu.
With only a handful of bags and an address, which we had received only just before departing, we set out for a house that we had never seen before. We had just sold a house, most of our belongings, rehomed my beloved geriatric dog Fetch with my parents, and were all feeling the trepidation and excitement of having flown almost 4,000 miles to start a new chapter in our lives.
Many of you probably relate to this story, as each of you has made a similar journey to BYU–Hawaii. Do you remember the first view when you exited the H3 tunnel? That expansive view of Kaneohe Bay, the turquoise blue water bespeckled with patch reefs before you, and the sheer green peaks of the Ko’olau behind? Do you remember your first view of BYU–Hawaii? What about the David O. McKay building framed by flags from all the countries represented by our international student body? In front of it all, the sign exclaiming, “Enter to Learn, Go Forth to Serve”. This common experience unites each of us here today.

These activities culminated in a big event during Interfaith Week in November 2019. (The organisation of this was personally stressful, due to the chair having resigned just three weeks earlier.) The choir sang at our chapel in Cardiff at the end of a wonderful torchlit walk between three other places of worship, supported by around 150 people of different faiths and including an MP, a Welsh Assembly member and its deputy minister. I had spent a lot of time praying for the success of the event and was powerfully reminded that this was His Church and work, and not mine—and I should not worry quite as much.

When I was a stake president, a young woman I will call Helen, came to me for counsel. She was professionally successful, well-read, and involved in many excellent projects, but she was not finding a special friendship leading to marriage in our stake and community. She told me that well-meaning friends advised her that many men might be intimidated by her intellect and the strength of her personality. They suggested that she try to be less aggressive in her activities, and present an image that would be seen as less threatening to men so that she would have a better opportunity to be married. She explained that she had been offered an excellent new executive position in the eastern United States that would increase her strong image. She wanted my opinion on her friends’ suggestion.
I told Helen that I felt she should continue to be her usual dynamic and active self so that she would fit in well with the person she would eventually marry. I told her that the decision was hers to make, but that my spiritual inclinations were favorable about her new opportunity. I advised her to fulfill her full potential.
Helen accepted the new position and moved east. There she met a man and married him in the temple. They are both continuing to make a tremendous contribution to the Church and to their community.

The story is told that in ancient Rome a group of women were, with vanity, showing their jewels one to another. Among them was Cornelia, the mother of two boys. One of the women said to her, “And where are your jewels?” To which Cornelia responded, pointing to her sons, “These are my jewels.” Under her tutelage, and walking after the virtues of her life, they grew to become Gaius and Tiberius Gracchus—the Gracchi, as they were called—two of the most persuasive and effective reformers in Roman history. For as long as they are remembered and spoken of, the mother who reared them after the manner of her own life will be remembered and spoken of with praise also.

When I was little, the doctors told my parents I had selective mutism. That is an anxiety disorder that makes it hard to speak to others. I could only speak to my close family members.
I felt anxious all the time, especially if someone spoke to me. Praying always made me feel better and calmed me down. I also saw a counselor at school for help. But I felt like I was not getting better at all. I almost felt like giving up, but I kept having faith.
My eighth birthday was coming up. My parents challenged me to read the Book of Mormon and pray to help me decide whether to be baptized. Every night I prayed to ask if I should get baptized. I always got the same answer—a warm, calm feeling in my heart. I knew the Holy Ghost was telling me that baptism was the right choice.
When I was given the gift of the Holy Ghost after my baptism, I heard words of hope, love, and encouragement. I knew that the Holy Ghost would comfort me and give me courage.
I decided to try to speak to my best friend, Charlie. I tried all week, but it was so hard. But one day Charlie and I were alone in the school garden. I said a silent prayer in my head. Heavenly Father, please help me say at least one word.
Then I opened my mouth and said, “Hey, Charlie!” He was really surprised. I was so happy!
After that day, it was easier to complete more goals. Soon I was talking to pretty much everyone! I am grateful the Holy Ghost gave me the courage to talk to Charlie.

Her first love, though, is ballet. She started studying at age four, and plans to be a professional ballerina. She became so skilled that her teacher suggested that she audition to be a Junior Associate of the Royal Ballet School. This would mean attending a regional class with Royal Ballet School teachers once a month. Miriam was accepted. But with the acceptance letter came bad news—the classes were to be held in Swansea on Sunday! (Swansea is a Welsh coastal city west of Cardiff.) Miriam’s mother recalls, “I’d heard from Miriam’s ballet teacher that the class in Bristol (an English city east of Cardiff) would be held on Saturday, so I wrote a letter to the administrator of the Junior Associates explaining how I felt about the Sabbath and asking if Miriam could attend in Bristol. It was the most eloquent letter I’ve ever written. The administrator rang me and said, ‘I just received a letter from another parent wanting her child to move from Bristol to Swansea.’ It was an answer to prayer.”

During my last sacrament meeting at the MTC, an elder stood who was older than most missionaries. He apologized for his poor English, but hoped that he would be understood. His voice was deep and strong. He told of growing up in Cracow, Poland. He felt uncomfortable attending his family’s church and said that he “instinctively” knew some of its practices were not correct. He stopped going to his church and instead began to study the Bible. As he grew he became increasingly unhappy, and at age 18 asked permission to live in Austria. It was granted, and he left his home to find a life elsewhere. He spent nine very difficult months in a refugee camp near Vienna before going to the American Embassy to seek permission to come to the United States. He arrived and, while living in Massachusetts, was contacted by missionaries from many churches. “They were nice,” he said, “but I could tell they did not know everything I was looking for.” One day, he saw something about the Mormons on TV. Warmed by what he saw, he thought he should learn about them. He arrived at an LDS church and introduced himself. He met the missionaries, heard and accepted the gospel, and at age 25 was serving a mission. “It is a privilege to be here,” he said softly in his deep Polish accent. “I have been looking for a long time.”

Five years ago, Sister Amy A. Wright was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. The only way her family made it through her aggressive treatments, she said, was by focusing on the Savior Jesus Christ.
“When it was all about me, the world became a really dark place,” she recalled. “But when my focus turned outward, when I would strive to serve others and walk the way Christ walked, there was light and joy, even during the greatest pain and suffering.”
Sister Wright described her battle with cancer as a “polishing and refining experience”—one that was “uniquely tailored” to help her come to know the Savior in a deeply personal way. It also taught her that additional strength comes in seeking to learn and understand others’ diverse challenges.

It seemed perfectly normal when Karen Monahan grabbed the hero’s arm. Then, right on cue, he began his solo performance. But instead of singing the words, he was signing them, telling his part of the story through deaf sign language. No one in the audience knew that Karen had squeezed firmly on Scott’s arm to let him know when to begin. No one needed to know. He performed his actions smoothly, as the other actors had throughout the show, without saying a word.
Then the curtains rushed together, but no one on stage spoke. When the curtains opened again, the cast bowed politely. Although the audience thundered its applause, 30 of the 45 performers couldn’t hear it because they are deaf. But they had communicated so effectively with the audience that nearly everyone watching cheered when the awards were announced. The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf had won the Los Angeles California Stake roadshow competition, with awards for best acting, best costumes and set, best script, and of course, outstanding roadshow of the year.
It was the culmination of months of effort that had begun when the stake president, Rodney H. Brady, sent a letter inviting the ward to participate in the annual contest for the first time. Initially, the challenge seemed insurmountable. “I had my doubts about how good it would be,” Wayne Bennett, a counselor in the bishopric said, speaking in Ameslan (American Sign Language, a means of communication employed by many deaf people). “But a few months of practice made of lot of difference. When I saw the roadshow in performance, I said, ‘Hey, that’s no roadshow; that’s a miracle!’”
The audience seemed to agree. Carol Mears, a professional comedy sketch writer, said she was “thrilled. I honestly forgot it was being done by the deaf.” Other performers, sometimes from other ward’s roadshows, sometimes children of ward members, provided voices to narrate the story. They spoke through microphones in the orchestra pit and were unseen by the audience. But their narration helped those who could hear to follow the actions of the deaf actors and actresses on stage.
The show, entitled “Under the Apple Tree,” adhered closely to the stake theme, “Once upon an Apple Tree,” and followed the trials of Red Delicious, an apple tree torn from his home by a tornado. He was soon joined by Yellow Delicious, another uproot in search of a place she could call her own. The two castaways discovered a new orchard presided over by Mother Apple, and finally felt confident to sink their roots into the community. Red Delicious eventually saved his fellow trees from a nefarious attack by bugs and aphids (including two members of the bishopric), and the apple trees lived happily ever after.
One of the highlights of the production was the “ABC Song,” during which the Apple Cuties taught audience members the manual alphabet. Another well-remembered scene found Mother Apple unable to get the attention of Red and Yellow Delicious, so she threw an apple at them and complained, “They must be deaf.” The joke appeared to put the audience at ease as they realized the deaf knew how to laugh at themselves.
Making the roadshow a success was not an easy task. There were many unusual problems. For example, when 23-year-old director Dave McKay began thinking about writing a script, he encountered the difficulty of writing one that would never be spoken. “We wrote it with our hands,” he said. Once a skeletal plot outline was chosen, directors and cast members worked together from improvised possibilities to a finalized sequence of actions. Long after rehearsals had begun, voice director Kareena Heath decided on words to be read by the unseen voices in the orchestra pit.
Another difficulty was synchronization of music and action. The entr’acte, for example, was an interpretive dance, and the dancers were required to perform to music they could not hear. Brother McKay solved the problem by casting one hearing dancer, who was responsible to keep the others in time with the beat. Once again, this was accomplished by means of hidden signals undetectable to the audience. Scott Duge (Red Delicious) and Birdie Herrick (Mother Apple) were kept on cue by Karen, a hearing interpreter for the deaf who took the role of Yellow Delicious. In other sections, actors and dancers maintained correct timing by memorizing counts and order of appearance.
Staging had to be carefully arranged so that actors could not only be seen, but also so that their hand signals were clearly visible at all times.
And, of course, butterflies in the stomach aren’t limited only to those who hear. Bill Andrews, who played Washington, the oldest of Mother Apple’s children, explained that stage fright manifested itself in an unusual way. “You could literally say we had a case of arthritis,” he said. “Our fingers were frozen. When hearing people get scared, their voices shake, but in our case, it’s our hands. They stiffen up and we can’t make the signs.”
Birdie was supposed to keep everyone backstage quiet. “But the deaf signed to each other anyway,” she remembered, smiling. “I told them to cut it out, because their hands would crack and make noise.”
The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf is a unique organization. Those in the ward are either deaf themselves or members of a family in which someone is deaf. Although it is under jurisdiction of the Los Angeles California Stake, its members come from a broad geographical area. But the roadshow brought them all together.
Homer Thexton explained how participation in the event strengthened family unity. He is deaf, his wife is hard of hearing, and his children hear normally, yet all participated. “It helped our family,” he explained. “There was more cooperation and communication at home. We really taught and helped each other in our parts.”
That type of reaction extended throughout the stake. For example, members of the University of Southern California Branch roadshow cast (which, incidentally, placed second in the competition) stayed behind after their own performance long enough to provide the voices for the deaf show. Noting that support, President Brady said he felt the roadshow experience had unified the entire stake. Since the performance, a variety of activities have helped to bring members of the ward for the deaf and other wards in the stake into closer contact on a more regular basis. (See FYI for Feb. 1978 and May 1978.)
The roadshow is over. But excitement and pride remain. Already ward members are talking about future productions and looking forward to another roadshow next year.
Editor’s Note: The Los Angeles Ward for the Deaf was recently divided to form two new wards, the San Fernando Valley Ward for the Deaf in the Los Angeles California Chatsworth Stake, and the Torrance North Ward for the Deaf, located in the Torrance California North Stake. The Fullerton Branch for the Deaf of the Fullerton California Stake was created in 1971, and continues to serve the needs of the deaf in that area.

Michael Garfield, a priest in the Plymouth Ward, stood his ground last summer when his soccer team was about to go into the state tournament. His coach wanted him to return the next season, but that would mean Sunday matches. The state tournament was also on Sunday. Michael had told his coach he could not play on Sundays already, and he was about to explain to him the importance of the Sabbath day. But before he could explain, one of his nonmember teammates, whom Michael had explained the Sabbath to before, jumped in and told the coach about the importance of the Sabbath day. “My coach understood better because he heard it from someone else,” Michael says. He was glad he had explained to his friend the sacredness of the Sabbath.
Michael has decided not to continue playing on the soccer team because of all the Sunday games. Keeping the Sabbath holy and having family time is more important to him, he says.

It is inspiring to learn how Parley Pratt came to know of the book about which he wrote the words of this hymn. In August of 1830, as a lay preacher, he was traveling from Ohio to eastern New York. At Newark, along the Erie Canal, he left the boat and walked 10 miles (16 km) into the country where he met a Baptist deacon by the name of Hamlin, who told him “of a book, a strange book, a VERY STRANGE BOOK! … This book, he said, purported to have been originally written on plates either of gold or brass, by a branch of the tribes of Israel; and to have been discovered and translated by a young man near Palmyra, in the State of New York, by the aid of visions, or the ministry of angels. I inquired of him how or where the book was to be obtained. He promised me the perusal of it, at his house the next day. … Next morning I called at his house, where, for the first time, my eyes beheld the ‘BOOK OF MORMON’—that book of books … which was the principal means, in the hands of God, of directing the entire course of my future life.

“I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page. I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.

“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists.”

Parley Pratt was then 23 years of age. The reading of the Book of Mormon affected him so profoundly that he was soon baptized into the Church and became one of its most effective and powerful advocates.

I have been blessed by the collective apostolic, personal, and professional experience and insight of the quorum members with whom I serve. An example from my association with Elder Robert D. Hales highlights the remarkable opportunities I have to learn from and serve with these leaders.
Several years ago I spent a Sunday afternoon with Elder Hales in his home as he was recovering from a serious illness. We discussed our families, our quorum responsibilities, and important experiences.
At one point I asked Elder Hales, “You have been a successful husband, father, athlete, pilot, business executive, and Church leader. What lessons have you learned as you have grown older and been constrained by decreased physical capacity?”
Elder Hales paused for a moment and responded, “When you cannot do what you have always done, then you only do what matters most.”
I was struck by the simplicity and comprehensiveness of his answer. My beloved apostolic associate shared with me a lesson of a lifetime—a lesson learned through the crucible of physical suffering and spiritual searching.

Everyone in the family enjoys music and singing. Emma plays the flute, often accompanied on the piano by her mother or one of her brothers. When Emma looks after her baby brother, she often sings to him. She always sings when she concentrates on something. On her first day of school, all her classmates suddenly got quiet. They turned around, and there was Emma, singing to herself as she painted a picture.

Some of those involved in the project were able to submit names for family members who had researched names but had not submitted them for temple work. For Amanda Gardner of the Pioneer Ward, researching names helped draw her closer to family members. She helped her grandparents, Allen and Helga Willie, submit names they had been researching for 30 years. Her other grandfather, Sterling Gardner, helped her friend research names. Amanda says, “One of my good friends had no names to submit, so she came to my grandpa and he helped her find about 175 names. At first she was like, ‘Oh, they’re just names on paper.’ But I realized they’re not just names on paper; they’re family members.”

Before my Cub Scout pack left for day camp, we said a prayer that we would be safe on the drive. About halfway there, a big truck moved into our lane without signaling. We got sideswiped! I felt a big bump and heard a loud honk, but our leader was able to stop the car safely on the side of the road. We were late for day camp, but no one was hurt. I was really glad we said a prayer before we left.Larsen O., age 8, Minnesota

“How long is it until I can get baptized?” Lizzie asked during dinner. She was excited to turn eight soon. She had already asked her older brother Jake to baptize her before he left on his mission.
“In two months, right after your birthday,” Mom said.
“That seems so far away!” Lizzie said. She stared at her plate, trying not to seem disappointed.
Lizzie wanted to be baptized so badly. She liked the safe, happy feeling she felt at church, almost like a hug around her heart. Mom said that feeling was the Holy Ghost. Lizzie wanted to be baptized so she could be clean and have the Holy Ghost with her all the time.
“I know it’s hard to wait,” Dad said. “Maybe it would help if you think about the promises you’ll be making when you’re baptized and practice keeping them now.”
Lizzie thought about that as she cleared the table after dinner. “Dad’s right,” she thought. “Two months isn’t so long. And when the day comes, I want to be ready to promise to be good and choose the right.”
Lizzie felt that safe feeling inside again, and she smiled as she offered to help wash the dishes.
As the days passed, Lizzie tried to be more reverent and listen to the lessons at church. She especially loved hearing about Jesus. She put a picture of Him by her bed to remind her to think about Him more.
Lizzie also tried harder to do what was right. She was friendly to a new boy in her class. She was more patient with her sister Whitney and even let her be the princess when they played. Lizzie tried to be helpful and obedient to her parents. And when she did something unkind or wrong, Lizzie said she was sorry.
Finally, the week came when Lizzie would be baptized. Bishop Cohen interviewed her to see if she was ready. He asked if she believed in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
Lizzie thought back to the lessons she had had in the past weeks. “Yes, I believe,” she said. She was glad she had been paying more attention in Primary and family home evening.
Then Bishop Cohen asked her some questions about keeping the commandments. Lizzie remembered how she had been trying hard to do what was right, and it felt good to be able to tell that to Bishop Cohen.
When her baptism day arrived, Lizzie put on her white dress. As she stepped down into the baptismal font, the water swirled around her legs, just warm enough. Lizzie felt her heart being hugged.
Jake smiled at Lizzie and took her hand. She was glad that he was there to baptize her, and she felt peaceful and calm knowing that she was ready.

One bishop reported to his stake president that he did not have enough active members to provide lunch for the missionaries every day. The wise stake president suggested that the bishop invite less-active members of the ward to participate. Much to the surprise of the bishop, many of the less-active members were pleased to have the missionaries come to their homes for a noon meal. In fact, many of these less-active members were anxious to share with the missionaries the stories of their conversions. More often than not, they would get out photographs of the missionaries who baptized them. This simple idea is bringing many unexpected blessings to the Church.
As the members share their food with the missionaries, the missionaries bring into homes the special spirit that only they carry, blessing both the members and the missionaries. Many less-active members are returning to full fellowship, and many more members are becoming involved in missionary work because of this simple expression of love and service. How often, brothers and sisters, we can solve seemingly large problems through relatively simple means!

President McKay had evidently seen the temple in vision and described it in such detail to Church architect Edward O. Anderson that he was able to reproduce it on paper. As the design process proceeded, the initial drawing was modified. Upon seeing the latest drawings, President McKay said, “Brother Anderson, that is not the temple that you and I saw together.” The final drawings, needless to say, reflected President McKay’s original description.