Gospel Story Finder

Consider the lifesaving power in this story. A few years ago, twin girls Brielle and Kyrie were born prematurely to the Jackson family. They were placed in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly slept. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, could not keep up with her. Suddenly one day Brielle’s condition became critical. The nurse tried everything she could think of to stabilize Brielle. Still Brielle squirmed and fussed as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared. Then the nurse remembered a procedure she had heard about. She said to the worried parents, “Let me just try putting Brielle in with her sister to see if that helps.” The parents consented, and the nurse slipped the squirming baby into the incubator with the bigger sister. No sooner had the door of the incubator closed than Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle’s blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling (see Nancy Sheehan, “A Sister’s Helping Hand,” Reader’s Digest, May 1996, 155–56).

A bad and dangerous attitude? Of course. But it’s not limited to gang members. There’s the experience of author Geoffrey Canada, who grew up in a violent neighborhood in New York’s South Bronx. As he reached college age, he saw the increasing viciousness of the gangs in his area. Out of fear, he bought a gun. He describes the feeling of power it gave him, a feeling that would cause his behavior to “become more and more reckless every day. … I knew that if I continued to carry the gun I would sooner or later pull the trigger.” He got rid of the gun.

Beth skipped to her room to pick up her toys. A new family from church was coming over for dinner, and they had a girl her age. Mama said her name was Cara. Beth couldn’t wait to meet her!
When the doorbell rang, Beth ran to the front door. “Hi! I’m Beth.”
“We’re the Palmers, and this is our daughter, Cara,” said the dad.
Right away, Beth could tell there was something different about Cara. Cara didn’t look right at Beth when she talked. When everyone walked to the table to eat, Cara’s dad held her arm. And before they started eating, Cara’s mom told her where each food was on her plate. Could Cara not see?
“I’m blind,” Cara said. “So Mom helps me know what I’m about to eat.”
Beth remembered a story from the Bible about a blind man that Jesus healed. But she had never met someone who was blind before.
After dinner, Mama said, “Beth, why don’t you and Cara play in your room?”
Beth looked at Mom with wide eyes. She wasn’t sure what to do.
Cara smiled and held out her hand. “Lead the way!” she said.
Seeing Cara smile made Beth feel better. She took Cara’s hand and led her down the hall to her room. Then Beth let go of Cara’s hand to get some toys for them to play with.
Cara stood in the doorway. “If you tell me where there’s a bed or a chair, I can sit down,” she said.
“Oh!” Beth turned around. “Sorry about that!”
“It’s OK,” Cara said. “Where should I go?”
Beth tried to think of a way to explain where the chair was.
“Is it to my right or to my left?” Cara asked.
“To your right,” Beth said, starting to understand. “Take two steps.”
Cara took two steps to her right. She put her hand out, felt the chair, and sat down perfectly. “Thank you,” she said. “Now let’s play!”
“How can you play with toys if you don’t know what they look like?” Beth asked shyly.
“I feel them,” Cara said. “Here—hand me something, but don’t tell me what it is.”
Beth handed Cara a toy and watched as she felt it all over. Cara grinned. “It’s a sock monkey.”
Beth laughed. “That’s right! Mama and I made it together.”
“Someday I’m going to learn to sew too,” Cara said.
“Really?”
“Yeah! I’ll be able to feel all the stitches. Maybe I can learn to make a sock monkey like yours.” Cara hugged the sock monkey close.
“You can keep that one, if you want,” Beth said.
“But you and your mom made it together,” said Cara. “Don’t you want to keep it?”That made Beth giggle because there was a whole
pile of sock monkeys on her bed! “I have plenty!” She began to plop them on Cara’s lap one at a time. “We made this one, and this one, and this one, and all of these.” Cara and Beth laughed.
“So really, you can pick one to take home!” Beth said.
“Thanks!” As Beth watched Cara feel each monkey and pick one to keep, she realized she had made a new friend.
“I’m glad I met you tonight,” Beth said.
“Me too,” said Cara. “Someday, I’ll make a sock monkey to give to you!”

Recorded in Church History is the story of the Prophet Joseph Smith's reaction to the need of a Church member.

Evidently, Joseph was working in his garden in Nauvoo, and several of the brethren were sitting on the rail fence surrounding the garden asking questions and listening to the Prophet teach them. Another person approached them and commented to Joseph that a certain member who lived some distance from Nauvoo had his house burn down the night before. Nearly all of the men expressed their sympathy for the man's loss. Joseph put his hand in his pocket, took out five dollars and exclaimed, "I feel sorry for this brother to the amount of five dollars: how much do you feel sorry?"[13]

The other brethren present immediately began to search their own pockets for spare money, as the Prophet had shown them by example that "action speaks louder than words."

As a boy, I well remember Sunday School on Mother’s Day. We would hand to each mother present a small potted plant and sit in silent reverie as Melvin Watson, a blind member, would stand by the piano and sing, “That Wonderful Mother of Mine.” This was the first time I saw a blind man cry. Even today, in memory, I can see the moist tears move from those sightless eyes, then form tiny rivulets and course down his cheeks, falling finally upon the lapel of the suit he had never seen. In boyhood puzzlement I wondered why all of the grown men were silent, why so many handkerchiefs came forth. Now I know. You see, mother was remembered. Each boy, every girl, all fathers and husbands seemed to make a silent pledge: “I will remember that wonderful mother of mine.”

Another way to spread happiness with her talents began to develop after she had a conversation with one of her friends in the hospital. She and a fellow patient laughed at their thoughts of “how you know you’ve been in the hospital too long.” These quips soon turned into a coloring book Brittany drew called Life Is Full of Color. Each page has one of Brittany’s drawings and a humorous blurb, like, “You know you’ve been in the hospital too long when you can work your own IV pump” or “… when your room at the hospital is more decorated than your room at home.” The coloring book was published and is now being given to children in the hospital. Brittany hopes it helps them know they’re not alone in their trials.

Elder Kimball called on another occasion. “Bishop Monson,” he said, “I have learned that there are two Samoan boys living in a downtown hotel. They’re going to get in trouble. Will you make them members of your ward?”

I found these two boys at midnight sitting on the steps of the hotel playing ukuleles and singing. They became members of our ward. Eventually, each of them married in the temple and served valiantly. Their influence for good was widespread.

In the spring of 1829, Mary and Peter Whitmer welcomed Joseph and Emma Smith and Oliver Cowdery into their home so the translation of the gold plates could be completed. The demands on Mary’s time were high. She cared for nine people in her own home and assisted her married children who lived nearby.
Mary’s five sons and both of her (eventual) sons-in-law became official witnesses of the gold plates in June 1829. That same month, Mary received a witness of her own.
Outside her home, a gray-haired man with a knapsack over his shoulder approached Mary and said, “My name is Moroni. You have become pretty tired with all the extra work you have to do.” Taking the knapsack off his shoulder, Moroni continued, “You have been very faithful and diligent in your labors. It is proper, therefore, that you should receive a witness that your faith may be strengthened.” He then revealed the contents of his knapsack—the gold plates.1
Mary became a witness of the gold plates, like the Three Witnesses and Eight Witnesses, whose testimonies are in the introductory pages of the Book of Mormon. Mary’s humility and diligence prepared her to be a witness. Her testimony isn’t written in the introductory pages of the Book of Mormon, and her name isn’t on plaques, monuments, or the minds of many Saints who came after her. Although her daily contributions in her home and family likely went unnoticed by many, they were known by God.

“I look ugly,” I said, staring into the mirror in disbelief.
Gazing back at me was the same right eye as always. However, covering my left eye was the worst black eye I had ever seen.
“It’s not that bad. Really,” my friend Emily said unconvincingly.
I rolled my good eye at her and put the ice pack back on.
Only five minutes earlier my left eye had received an accidental but well-placed whack from my friend Janna’s elbow. Immediately my hands flew to my face, and I tried to stop myself from falling. Janna apologized. I could hear my friends surrounding me to find out if I was OK.
Though I was in pain, I didn’t realize what had actually happened until I moved my hands and heard every person in the room gasp.
“What?” I asked. No one answered.
I ran to the mirror. Within seconds of the contact, the skin around my eye had swelled to four times its normal size. Bright red blood filled the bruise.
“How am I going to face everyone?” I said, grabbing an ice pack from Janna’s hand. She bit her lip and apologized for about the hundredth time. I held the ice firmly to my eye, hoping the bruise would go away by the next morning.
Unfortunately, while some of the swelling did go down and the redness disappeared by the next morning, the puffy bruise had turned to a deep rose color. I looked ugly, and I felt even uglier.
I tried to cover my eye with makeup, but it just made the bruise look purplish. And nothing could help the swelling. I finally threw a hat on and wore it so I could just barely see from under it.
That day at school, I felt as though everyone were staring. I refused to look anyone in the eye. For days I couldn’t think about anything else, despite my friends’ attempts to cheer me up.
On Sunday I was grouchy because I couldn’t wear my hat to church. But everything changed during a lesson in Sunday School.
“Pray to see yourself as He sees you,” the teacher said, speaking about the Atonement and individual worth.
I touched my bruise, thinking to myself, “He sees me as a girl with an ugly black eye.” Then, as I stopped pitying myself, my perspective changed, and I wondered, “How does Heavenly Father see me?”
Tears filled my eyes as I reflected on the love He has not only for others but for me. “He sees me as His daughter, who is worth the life of His Son,” I realized.
I felt the Spirit testify of the great worth of my soul as a daughter of God. I remembered a scripture I had learned in seminary. I opened my scriptures and found it in 1 Samuel 16:7: “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; … for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” What I looked like on the outside was not as important as who I was on the inside.
My mind-set changed again as I looked around the room and felt an immense amount of love for the people I saw around me. The warmth of Heavenly Father’s love filled me, and for a moment I think I saw my classmates, in a small way, as Heavenly Father sees them—as His children.
I felt peace and comfort the rest of the Sabbath day, now not caring what others were thinking. I loved them, and I looked them all in the eye—with both of my eyes.

At my school a lot of people have boyfriends and girlfriends. On my first day of school as an eighth grader, I met someone named Paul. We got along well together. Paul was a great friend.
The next day after school he asked me out on a date. I told him I couldn’t, and he asked why. I told him I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that we’re not supposed to date until age 16. Paul asked why, and I realized that I didn’t actually know.
That night I went home and pondered Paul’s question. I did research on LDS.org and read my scriptures. I found a quote by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008): “The Lord has made us attractive one to another for a great purpose. But this very attraction becomes as a powder keg unless it is kept under control. … It is for this reason that the Church counsels against early dating.”1
I also looked in For the Strength of Youth. It says dating “can help you learn and practice social skills, develop friendships, have wholesome fun, and eventually find an eternal companion.”2
The next day I showed Paul the For the Strength of Youth booklet. Other people saw Paul reading it, and my LDS friends helped me answer my classmates’ questions. I was happy to have an answer to Paul’s question.
For the Strength of Youth says that dating before age 16 and forming serious relationships in our youth can lead to immorality and limit the number of people we meet. My mother also tells me that we shouldn’t date before 16 because it can distract us from studies and opportunities that can be vital to success in the future. I’ve seen friends of mine become depressed because of an emotional breakup at age 13.
I was glad I was able to find out for myself why we shouldn’t date before age 16 and then give Paul an answer without hurting his feelings. I’ve made a great friend, and I hope we will be friends for a long time. I am thankful the Lord has given us friends and the opportunity to date at the appropriate age so that we may all one day find faithful eternal companions.

Kendra liked her new home. She liked her new bedroom. And she liked her new Primary.
She liked everything about her new house except for one thing. She missed living near her grandma. Visiting Grandma didn’t happen very often now.
One day after lunch, Mommy brought in the mail.
Here’s a letter for you, Kendra.
Who sent me a letter?
She had never received a letter before.
It’s from your grandma. Let’s sit down and I’ll help you read it.
Dear Kendra,You are a good big sister to your baby brother. I love you very much, and I miss you. Remember that there is someone else who loves you and always watches over you.Love, Grandma
Grandma’s talking about Heavenly Father!
That’s right, Heavenly Father loves you.
I want to write a letter to Grandma.
Mommy found a piece of paper and a pencil. Kendra sat at the table and did her very best printing. Mommy helped her spell the words.
Dear Grandma,Thank you for the letter. I miss you too. I know Heavenly Father is watching over you.Love, Kendra
Kendra put the letter into an envelope and licked the flap. Mommy helped her write Grandma’s address on the envelope. Then Kendra put a stamp on it and put it in the mailbox.
I’m glad Grandma loves me even though we live far away now.
Grandma will always love you, no matter how far away you are.
Just like Heavenly Father will always love me!
Kendra felt warm and happy.

I would like to share a few personal experiences from our lives as we have felt and seen and personally witnessed the unmistakable power and love of our living Father in Heaven.
We have known many great and noble spirits here in this special place. Our faith and testimonies have been forever strengthened by what we have witnessed in the lives of so many faithful servants of our Father. In my work in medicine, I have felt on countless occasions His healing power step in where my professional knowledge and skill had reached their limit. I have witnessed miraculous healings. Some who had crossed the veil came back and told me of their experiences being on both sides. I have seen the hand of our Father reach out to His children and felt His thoughts and words flow through my mind and my mouth to express His love for them. I have felt impressions come to my mind to look for something or think of something that I would not have otherwise done without His influence and His love for each individual. I have also seen many times when healing did not occur and witnessed the pain and heartache of loss. It is often difficult to understand or explain when it seems that prayers are not being answered in the way that we want. These are truly the times when our “hearts” are tested and tried. Do we really trust Him and put ourselves in His hands and say, “Thy will be done.” We had some dear friends who lost a young son in a flash flood while he was on his first overnight camp with the Boy Scouts. He and our son were walking together and both were swept into the flood waters together. How do you explain why one is taken to the other side of the veil, and the other one, our son, remains here? It is in these times, however, that we feel His comforting reassurance that eternity truly is our “rock and our salvation”, that the promises given by The Lord in D&C 121-122 are literally true, and that He understands.

On February 2nd this year, Sister Meurs and I visited Warrnambool, Australia, for the creation of the Warrnambool Branch from a Geelong Ward group. It was a joyful day to return to my birthplace and see the branch, recreated, I had attended as a boy.
Two weeks later, we spoke to missionaries at the Pacific Area missionary training centre in Auckland. We love meeting new missionaries and feeling their anticipation and faith as they begin their consecrated service. This occasion was particularly special because our grandson, Harrison Snow, had been called to the Australia Melbourne Mission and was one of those missionaries.
Adding to our joy, Elder Snow was assigned to Warrnambool as his first area. I decided to send him an account of how our family joined the Church there. Here is an excerpt of what I shared:
Your great-grandfather Frederick Michael Wilhelm Meurs was born in Holland in 1926. He was one of 12 children. His mother was a devout Catholic who took her children to mass each Sunday. Fred attended Catholic schools and developed deep faith in Jesus Christ and a love for the scriptures.
Your great-grandmother Lois Ellen Meurs was also born in 1926 in Warrnambool. She had two brothers, Ralph and David, and was raised in a faithful Methodist home. She admired her parents’ charitable service and developed a strong Christian faith.
Fred and Lois were married in Warrnambool in January 1954. Julie was born later that year, and Peter (me) in December 1956.
In their early marriage, Fred and Lois wanted unity in their faith. They attended both the Catholic and Methodist churches and studied the New Testament together. As they read, they wrote down many questions—about the nature of the Godhead, resurrection, priesthood authority, the Church’s structure, and baptism by immersion.
They sought answers from local religious leaders, but most said those matters were “mysteries” or struggled to respond. Their search for truth led them to visit several Christian churches in Warrnambool. Still unsatisfied, they turned to God in prayer, asking Him to send them answers.
At that time, Elder Jones (from Utah) and Elder Erickson (from Canada) had been sent by President Thomas S. Bingham to open missionary work in Warrnambool. Local ministers warned townsfolk not to speak with them, claiming they would “brainwash your children.”
Elder Jones and Elder Erickson faithfully knocked on doors for three months and experienced total rejection. They were discouraged and depressed. Their faith was wavering. They wrote to President Bingham and asked to be transferred out of Warrnambool.
Eventually, a letter arrived from President Bingham. After prayerful consideration, he wrote, he had the strongest impression that there were people in Warrnambool ready to receive the restored Church. He encouraged them to go back to work and to visit places they had not been before.
The elders received the letter around the same time that Fred and Lois were praying for answers. A few days later, they knocked on the Meurs family’s front door at 68 Jamieson Street, Warrnambool. Lois answered, and the elders said they had a special message about Jesus Christ and His Church to share.
Lois replied, “We have been praying for you to come—but you can’t come in just now. Our children (two-year-old Julie and six-month-old Peter) have chickenpox, and they might infect you.” She asked them to return in a week.
Lois told Fred about the visit, and they continued to pray that the missionaries wouldn’t forget to come back. They didn’t know who they were dealing with!
Elder Jones and Elder Erickson returned the following week and began teaching Lois and Fred. As they taught, they answered every question on Fred and Lois’s long list. They explained the nature of God, priesthood authority, the Resurrection and life after death, the purpose of life, developing faith, and the ordinances of baptism and the sacrament.
Fred and Lois opened their scriptures—already marked from their earlier study—and found confirmation for everything the missionaries were teaching.
Years later, when I was called as an Area Seventy, I spoke with Elder Bruce Jones about this experience. He told me that their time in Warrnambool, up to the point of meeting my parents, had been a great trial of his faith. But teaching Fred and Lois and having them respond with confirming scriptures from the New Testament rekindled his faith and became a turning point in his life.
Lois and Fred were baptized and confirmed on 5 July 1957—just three weeks after meeting the missionaries. Soon other families joined the Church, and the new branch began holding meetings in the Meurs home on Jamieson Street.
All of us can trace our faith to a story of conversion—either our own or that of family members who responded to the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. It reminds me of these words from the first chapter of Preach My Gospel: “You are surrounded by people . . . searching for purpose in life. . . . They desire ‘peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come’ (Doctrine and Covenants 59:23).”
“Many … are only kept from the truth because they know not where to find it” (Doctrine and Covenants 123:12).
Today we know that simply inviting our friends to come to church with us provides the best experience they can have. They will learn more about Jesus Christ, find answers to their questions, and feel welcomed by members like you. They will feel a special spirit as they participate in the sacrament. Many will desire to learn more—and ultimately begin their journey on the covenant path through baptism and confirmation.
I will forever be grateful for Elder Jones and Elder Erickson—and for the delight my parents felt when they discovered the restored New Testament Church, even The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Youth in Roy, Utah, found an interesting way to cool off last summer. With rakes, shovels, and paintbrushes in hand and wearing T-shirts emblazoned with the slogan “The Rule Is Cool”—referring to the Golden Rule—this group spent two days helping out at a local community center for disadvantaged families. They played games with the children at the center, cleaned up the yard, painted playground equipment, and washed windows.

“My favorite part was doing the games with the kids at the community center. It was great to see their reaction, but it was also great to see how much fun we were all having,” says Sara Medill, a Mia Maid.

After the youth completed 750 hours of service, workers at the community center and recipients of the service all agreed—the youth of the Roy 16th Ward are as good as gold.

I recall a young man who was in our stake when I served as a stake president. He traveled around with a crowd that thought it was smart to do things that were not right. On a few occasions he was caught in some minor violations. One day I got a call from the police station and was told he was being held because of a traffic violation. He had been caught speeding, as he had on a few other occasions prior to this time. Knowing the things he was doing might prevent him from going on a mission, he straightened up, and when he was 19 years of age, he received his call.

I shall never forget the talk we had when he returned. He told me that while he was in the mission field he had often thought of the trouble he had caused by the mistaken belief that the violation of little things was not important. But a great change had come into his life. He had come to the realization that there is no happiness or pleasure in violation of the law, whether it be God’s law or the laws that society imposes upon us. He said to me, “When I drive a car now and the speed limit is 55 miles an hour, I feel it is morally wrong to drive a single mile faster.”

I was impressed by the great change that had come over this young man while he served on his mission and studied moral principles. How unfortunate it is that he had to learn his lesson the hard way, but what a great blessing comes when there is the realization that one cannot be in violation and feel good about that conduct.

When Sierra P., 17, moved to an area where few members of the Church live, her new friends wanted to know about her beliefs. This scenario isn’t new, and sometimes we may wonder how we can share the gospel with our friends without being overbearing. During a recent conversation with the New Era, youth in Arkansas shared what they have learned.
Sierra discovered that she could best answer questions when she asked her friends about their beliefs first and then focused on similarities and differences. “We studied a little about the Church in U.S. history, and that made everyone curious, so they came to me with their questions,” she says. “I had an opportunity to explain the entire plan of salvation to my volleyball team. Some of them realized that we have a lot of faith and are good people.”

The first time I passed the sacrament as a deacon, I was nervous from start to finish. I was worried I would walk in the wrong direction or go to the wrong row. I had looked forward to passing the sacrament for as long as I could remember. I would watch the deacons every week. They looked so dignified.
I made it through my first week without messing up, and now I’m not nervous anymore. Instead, when I pass the sacrament, I feel reverent and happy. I feel the Spirit when I’m passing the sacrament.

Even though Rachael Eucker, 15, is a city girl, she and her friends and Young Women leaders from the Lindsay Ward, Val Vista Arizona Stake, had just planted an acre and a half of corn by hand. It was part of their Experiment upon the Word project for the Young Women. At the beginning of the year, Rachael and the Young Women in her ward agreed to take on a challenge. They would read the Book of Mormon and devote two Saturdays a month to a Gardening for Humanity garden. These gardens use empty lots in city areas to raise food for homeless shelters and food banks. Rachael committed to read the Book of Mormon. Then she went the extra mile and committed to help in the garden every single time her ward went.
The day after planting corn, Rachael was stiff and sore, but she knew that the good feelings she got from service would last longer than the pain. She was also able to compare her repeated days in the garden to the scriptures. “We had talked about the lasting effects of service and how you feel the effects of what you do for a long time after. That made sense to me. I was thinking that it was like when you read the scriptures and feel the Spirit. Eventually that feeling goes away, so the only way you can keep having that feeling is by going back and reading more and more.”
Then the corn didn’t grow. It had been bad seed. Again the girls were able to draw a conclusion when they heard that all their hard work was wasted. Lynn Allred, the Young Women president, told the girls, “Even though we did all we need to do—we watered it, nourished it—it didn’t grow because it was bad seed.” Now Alma 32:32 will always be vivid to them.
After spending a Saturday morning thinning carrots, Elizabeth Lassetter, 16, said, “I think the gardening we are doing is completely connected to what we are doing with the scriptures. Everything is related to how the Lord teaches through nature.”
The corn was replanted, and the melons were starting to form in another plot. The girls were busy helping to keep the weeds under control, watering daily, waiting for the day they could harvest. Again the lessons in the garden compare to the scriptures. Becky Payne, 15, said, “When we do the work, we can harvest. With the scriptures, you have to work hard to get results. You have to be consistent and put constant effort into it.”
The day for the harvest would come, and the girls would pick the fruits of their work and donate to those who are hungry. As for themselves, with their reading, the harvest is one of faith. They will “pluck the fruit, … which is sweet above all that is sweet, … and ye shall feast upon this fruit even until ye are filled, that ye hunger not” (Alma 32:42).

The eruption of Tambora affected weather in North America through the following year. Spring gave way to snowfall and killing frosts, and 1816 passed into memory as the year without a summer.6 In Vermont, in the northeast corner of the United States, rocky hills had frustrated a farmer named Joseph Smith Sr. for years. But that season, as he and his wife, Lucy Mack Smith, watched their crops shrivel under the relentless frosts, they knew they faced financial ruin and an uncertain future if they stayed where they were.
At 45, Joseph Sr. was no longer a young man, and the prospect of starting over on new land was daunting. He knew his oldest sons, 18-year-old Alvin and 16-year-old Hyrum, could help him clear the land, build a house, and plant and harvest crops. His 13-year-old daughter, Sophronia, was old enough to help Lucy with her work in the house and around the farm. His younger sons, 8-year-old Samuel and 5-year-old William, were becoming more helpful, and 3-year-old Katharine and newborn Don Carlos would one day be old enough to contribute.
But his middle son, 10-year-old Joseph Jr., was a different matter. Four years earlier, Joseph Jr. had undergone an operation to remove an infection in his leg. Since then he had walked with a crutch. Although his leg was starting to feel sturdy again, Joseph Jr. had a painful limp, and Joseph Sr. did not know if he would grow up to be as strong as Alvin and Hyrum.7
Certain they could rely on each other, the Smiths resolved to abandon their home in Vermont for better land.8 Like others in the area, Joseph Sr. decided to travel to the state of New York, where he hoped to find a good farm they could buy on credit. He would then send for Lucy and the children, and the family could start over.
As Joseph Sr. set out for New York, Alvin and Hyrum walked him down the road before saying goodbye. Joseph Sr. loved his wife and children dearly, but he had not been able to provide them much stability in life. Bad luck and unsuccessful investments had kept the family poor and rootless. Maybe New York would be different.9
The following winter, Joseph Jr. hobbled through the snow with his mother, brothers, and sisters. They were on their way west to a New York village named Palmyra, near where Joseph Sr. had found good land and was waiting for his family.
Since her husband could not help with the move, Lucy had hired a man named Mr. Howard to drive their wagon. On the road, Mr. Howard handled their belongings roughly and gambled and drank away the money they paid him. And after they joined up with another family traveling west, Mr. Howard kicked Joseph out of the wagon so the other family’s daughters could sit with him as he drove the team.
Knowing how much it hurt Joseph to walk, Alvin and Hyrum tried to stand up to Mr. Howard a few times. But each time he knocked them down with the butt of his whip.10
If he had been bigger, Joseph probably would have tried to stand up to Mr. Howard himself. His hurt leg had kept him from work and play, but his strong will made up for his weak body. Before the doctors had cut into his leg and chipped away infected pieces of bone, they had wanted to tie him down or give him brandy to dull the pain. But Joseph had asked only that his father hold him.
He had stayed awake and alert the whole time, his face pale and dripping with sweat. His mother, who was usually so strong, had nearly fallen apart when she heard his screams. After that, she probably felt that she could bear anything.11
As Joseph limped along beside the wagon, he could see his mother was certainly bearing with Mr. Howard. They had already traveled two hundred miles (322 km), and so far she had been more than patient with the driver’s bad behavior.
About a hundred miles from Palmyra, Lucy was preparing for another day on the road when she saw Alvin running toward her. Mr. Howard had thrown their goods and luggage onto the street and was about to leave with their horses and wagon.
Lucy found the man in a bar. “As there is a God in heaven,” she declared, “that wagon and those horses as well as the goods accompanying them are mine.”
She looked around the bar. It was filled with men and women, most of them travelers like her. “This man,” she said, meeting their gaze, “is determined to take away from me every means of proceeding on my journey, leaving me with eight little children utterly destitute.”
Mr. Howard said that he had already spent the money she paid him to drive the wagon, and he could go no farther.
“I have no use for you,” Lucy said. “I shall take charge of the team myself.”
She left Mr. Howard in the bar and vowed to reunite her children with their father, come what may.12
The road ahead was muddy and cold, but Lucy led her family safely to Palmyra. As she watched the children cling to their father and kiss his face, she felt rewarded for all they had suffered to get there.
The family soon rented a small house in town and discussed how to get their own farm.13 The best plan, they decided, was to work until they had enough money for a down payment on land in the nearby woods. Joseph Sr. and the older sons dug wells, split fence rails, and harvested hay for cash, while Lucy and the daughters made and sold pies, root beer, and decorative cloths to provide food for the family.14
As Joseph Jr. got older, his leg grew stronger and he could easily walk through Palmyra. In town, he came in contact with people from all over the region, and many of them were turning to religion to satisfy spiritual yearnings and explain the hardships of life. Joseph and his family did not belong to a church, but many of their neighbors worshipped in one of the tall Presbyterian chapels, the Baptists’ meetinghouse, the Quaker hall, or the campground where traveling Methodist preachers held revival meetings from time to time.15
When Joseph was 12, religious debates swept Palmyra. Although he read little, he liked to think deeply about ideas. He listened to preachers, hoping to learn more about his immortal soul, but their sermons often left him unsettled. They told him he was a sinner in a sinful world, helpless without the saving grace of Jesus Christ. And while Joseph believed the message and felt bad about his sins, he was not sure how to find forgiveness.16
He thought going to church could help him, but he could not settle on a place to worship. The different churches argued endlessly about how people could be free of sin. After listening to these arguments for a while, Joseph was distressed to see people reading the same Bible but coming to different conclusions about its meaning. He believed God’s truth was out there—somewhere—but he did not know how to find it.17
His parents were not sure either. Lucy and Joseph Sr. both came from Christian families and believed in the Bible and Jesus Christ. Lucy attended church meetings and often brought her children with her. She had been seeking the true church of Jesus Christ since the death of her sister many years earlier.
Once, after falling gravely ill sometime before Joseph’s birth, she had feared that she would die before finding the truth. She sensed a dark and lonely chasm between her and the Savior, and she knew she was unprepared for the next life.
Lying awake all night, she prayed to God, promising Him that if He let her live, she would find the Church of Jesus Christ. As she prayed, the voice of the Lord spoke to her, assuring her that if she would seek, she would find. She had visited more churches since then, but she had still not found the right one. Yet even when it felt like the Savior’s Church was no longer on the earth, she kept searching, trusting that going to church was better than not.18
Like his wife, Joseph Sr. hungered for the truth. But he felt that attending no church at all was preferable to the wrong one. Following the counsel of his father, Joseph Sr. searched the scriptures, prayed earnestly, and believed that Jesus Christ had come to save the world.19 Yet he could not reconcile what he felt to be true with the confusion and discord he saw in the churches around him. One night he had dreamed that contending preachers were like cattle, bellowing as they dug at the earth with their horns, which deepened his concern that they knew little about God’s kingdom.20
Seeing his parents’ dissatisfaction with local churches only confused Joseph Jr. more.21 His soul was at stake, but no one could give him satisfying answers.
After saving their money for more than a year, the Smiths had enough to make a payment on a hundred acres of forest in Manchester, just south of Palmyra. There, between jobs as hired hands, they tapped maple trees for their sugary sap, planted an orchard, and cleared fields to grow crops.22
As he worked the land, young Joseph continued to worry about his sins and the welfare of his soul. The religious revival in Palmyra had quieted down, but preachers continued to compete for converts there and throughout the region.23 Day and night, Joseph watched the sun, moon, and stars roll through the heavens in order and majesty and admired the beauty of the earth teeming with life. He also looked at the people around him and marveled at their strength and intelligence. Everything seemed to testify that God existed and had created humankind in His own image. But how could Joseph reach Him?24
In the summer of 1819, when Joseph was 13, Methodist preachers gathered for a conference a few miles from the Smith farm and spread out across the countryside to spur families like Joseph’s toward conversion. The success of these preachers worried other ministers in the area, and soon competition for converts was intense.
Joseph attended meetings, listened to soul-stirring preaching, and witnessed converts shout for joy. He wanted to shout with them, but he often felt like he was in the middle of a war of words and opinions. “Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together?” he asked himself. “If any one of them be right, which is it, and how shall I know it?” He knew he needed Christ’s grace and mercy, but with so many people and churches clashing over religion, he did not know where to find it.25
Hope that he could find answers—and peace for his soul—seemed to slip away from him. He wondered how anyone could find truth amid so much noise.26
While attending a sermon, Joseph heard a minister quote from the first chapter of James in the New Testament. “If any of you lack wisdom,” he said, “let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not.”27
Joseph went home and read the verse in the Bible. “Never did any passage of scripture come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine,” he later remembered. “It seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of my heart. I reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person needed wisdom from God, I did.” He had searched the Bible before as if it held all the answers. But now the Bible was telling him he could go directly to God for personal answers to his questions.
After Much Contemplation, by Al Rounds
Joseph decided to pray. He had never prayed out loud before, but he trusted the Bible’s promise. “Ask in faith, nothing wavering,” it taught.28 God would hear his questions—even if they came out awkwardly.

Several months ago our dog, Barclay, who is usually well behaved, began to show a different side of his personality. One evening after dinner, we didn't clean up very well and he seized the moment. All seventy pounds jumped onto the table for a glorious feast—a pile of chicken bones lying in a puddle of Shoyu-flavored grease that was just too much to resist. When my wife, Stacy, discovered him lying on top of the table eating out of the Pyrex dish she was rather surprised.
We laughed this one off but a day or two later it happened again. At lunch, Barclay was sitting up tall, staring at the sliding glass door that looks onto the back porch. I was curious. Stacy reported how he had managed to open the door of the pantry and raid the package of marshmallows on the bottom shelf. This time, however, his behavior was rewarded with scraps of a different kind. Scolded, contrite, and forlorn, he seemed to be learning the lesson of a lifetime. Perhaps he was having a moment of self-reflection.
Brothers and Sisters, I am not a dog-psychologist, but I accept that each of us, from time to time, has a moment of truth. Shakespeare captured this well in the famous line from Julius Caesar: "The eye sees not itself But by reflection, by some other things." Like Barclay seeing himself in the glass, the mirror from which we examine ourselves is the gospel.