Gospel Story Finder

So Granny told it. “Once upon a time there was a very good little boy. His daddy took him in the car to see his granny. When they got to Granny’s house. Daddy stopped the car in the driveway. He smoothed Jeff’s hair and tucked Jeff’s shirttail in. ‘Be a good boy,’ Daddy said.
“Jeff climbed out of the car and waved good-bye to Daddy. Then Jeff rang Granny’s doorbell.
“When Granny opened the door, she pretended that she didn’t know him. ‘Good morning,’ Granny said. ‘Are you selling something? I don’t think I need anything today.’
“Jeff began to giggle. ‘Don’t you need a good little boy?’
“Granny made her face look surprised. ‘How did you know? That’s the only thing that I need.’
“Jeff laughed out loud. ‘I’m just what you need!’ he said.”

About four years after the First Vision, the angel Moroni appeared to young Joseph several times, telling him about the book written on gold plates and preparing him for the work that lay ahead. Lucy Mack Smith tells how her 18-year-old prophet-son shared the wondrous news of the Book of Mormon and the Restoration with the Smith family.
By sunset … , we were all seated, and Joseph commenced telling us the great and glorious things which God had manifested to him. …
He proceeded to relate … particulars concerning the work which he was appointed to do, and we received them joyfully. …
From this time forth, Joseph continued to receive instructions from the Lord, and we continued to get the children together every evening for the purpose of listening while he gave us a relation of the same. I presume our family presented an aspect as singular as any that ever lived upon the face of the earth—all seated in a circle, father, mother, sons and daughters, and giving the most profound attention to a boy, eighteen years of age, who had never read the Bible through in his life: he seemed much less inclined to the perusal of books than any of the rest of our children, but far more given to meditation and deep study.
We were now confirmed in the opinion that God was about to bring to light something upon which we could stay our minds, or that would give us a more perfect knowledge of the plan of salvation and the redemption of the human family. This caused us greatly to rejoice, the sweetest union and happiness pervaded our house, and tranquility reigned in our midst.
During our evening conversations, Joseph would occasionally give us some of the most amusing recitals that could be imagined. He would describe the ancient inhabitants of [the American] continent, their dress, mode of traveling, and the animals upon which they rode; their cities, their buildings, with every particular; their mode of warfare; and also their religious worship. This he would do with as much ease, seemingly, as if he had spent his whole life among them.

“When I joined the Church, I didn’t have confidence to talk to people,” Shinnah says. “When I was given a calling to serve as a Young Women class president, I was so surprised. I had never been a leader before. I had to practice how to talk in front of other people and how to share my testimony. Then one day my bishop called me to his office. He told me that I am so loved and that Heavenly Father will strengthen me in everything I do.”

You must be their counselor, their comforter, their anchor and strength in times of sorrow and distress. You must be strong with that strength which comes from the Lord. You must be wise with that wisdom which comes from the Lord. Your door must be open to hear their cries and your back strong to carry their burdens, your heart sensitive to judge their needs, your godly love broad enough and strong enough to encompass even the wrongdoer and the critic. You must be a man of patience, willing to listen though it takes hours to do so. You are the only one to whom some can turn. You must be there when every other source has failed. Permit me to read you a few lines from a letter sent to a bishop.
“Dear Bishop:
“It has been almost two years since I desperately called you asking for help. At that time I was ready to kill myself. I had no one else to turn to—no money, no job, no friends. My house had been taken, and I had no place to live. The Church was my last hope.
“As you know, I had left the Church at the age of seventeen and had broken just about every rule and commandment that there was in my search for happiness and fulfillment. Instead of happiness, my life was filled with misery, anguish, and despair. There was no hope or future for me. I even pleaded with God to let me die, to take me out of my misery. Not even he wanted me. I felt that he had rejected me, too.
“That’s when I turned to you and the Church. …
“You listened with understanding, you counseled, you guided, you helped.
“I began to grow and develop in understanding and knowledge of the gospel. I found that I had to make certain basic changes in my life that were terribly difficult, but that within me I had the worth and strength to do so.
“I learned that as I lived the gospel and repented, I had no more fear. I was filled with an inner peace. The clouds of anguish and despair were gone. Because of the Atonement, my weaknesses and sins were forgiven through Jesus Christ and His love for me.
“He has blessed and strengthened me. He has opened pathways for me, given me direction, and kept me from harm. I have found that as I overcame each obstacle, my business began to grow, enabling my family to benefit and making me feel as though I had accomplished something.
“Bishop, you have given me understanding and support through these past two years. I never would have reached this point if not for your love and patience. Thank you for being what you are as the servant of the Lord to help me, his wandering child.”

Take eight lively people. Mix them in a small van for forty hours. Add mechanical failure, rain, car sickness, and seasickness. What do you get? “Heaven,” according to the Marrero family.
“It was the most spiritual experience of my life,” said Raquel, age fifteen, of her family’s trip to the temple to be sealed together for time and eternity.
For many people, a temple trip isn’t quite the sacrifice that it was for the Marreros. They live on the island of Tenerife, which is one of Spain’s Canary Islands, located about fifty miles off the coast of Morocco. When they were finally prepared to go to the temple, the nearest one open was in Germany, so that’s where they headed, crossing the ocean and passing through three countries to get there.
The cost of plane fare would have been outrageous for the family that consists of Luci, 7; Fabio, 9; Oliver, 11; Raquel, 15; Desiree, 17; Oscar, 19; and parents Miguel and Angela. As it was, they had to work for two years, Miguel doing carpentry and the rest of the family taking on odd jobs, to earn the money to travel the way they did.
The way they traveled was in a furgón, or van, that Miguel had converted into a camper with two beds. They began by driving the furgón onto a ferry and traveling by water five-hundred miles to Spain.
“We all got seasick,” said Raquel. “We were glad to see dry land again.”
But that was only the beginning of the journey. Ahead were hours and hours of driving through Spain, France, and Germany and sleeping under the stars at night. “To pass the time, we’d honk and wave at others with Spanish license plates,” said Desiree. “And we sang every hymn and Spanish song we knew—many times over.”
“Dad drove and fixed the car,” added Raquel. They had electrical problems, among other things, which made it difficult to drive at night without stopping every few minutes to fix the headlights. Finally, when they made it to Frankfurt, they pulled over and waited for dawn, so they could drive undistracted to the temple in the light.
Well, almost undistracted. It seems the temple is located in Friedrichsdorf, outside of Frankfurt, and with their limited German, the Marreros couldn’t find it. They finally hired a Spanish-speaking cab driver to show them the way.
“When at last we saw the angel Moroni on top, it was such a joy,” said Raquel. “It was beautiful—even more beautiful because we’d suffered so much to get there.”
Oh, and what things they experienced inside! “It was so wonderful when we were sealed—everyone in white, even the little ones, looking so beautiful,” said Desiree. “Now we know that we can be together forever with the ones we love.”
The Marreros spent about four days at the temple, the parents doing sealings, the older children doing baptisms for the dead. When the time came to leave, they were reluctant to go, especially since they knew all about the tedious road trip that lay ahead.
But their lives had changed in those four days. “We didn’t quarrel as much,” Raquel noted. “We knew we were an eternal family.”
“The trip was a lot like life, really,” observed Desiree. “You go through some tough times, and you work really hard, but it is worth it when you make it to the celestial kingdom. We made a lot of sacrifices so that everyone could arrive together.”

The idea was to find something to help build a bridge between Mormons and their non-Mormon friends. And what could be better than an evening of dramatic hilarity, asked the fun-loving youth of the Brisbane Stake in Australia. Of course, with the Australian bush country only miles away and with many tales of derring-do among men of the bush being heard every day, it did come as a bit of a surprise that the youth chose to put on a musical on the life of that fearless American damsel, Annie, in Annie Get Your Gun.
Perhaps it was because it gave the Brisbane Scouts, Venturers, and Explorers a chance to whoop and holler as they mimicked Buffalo Bill, Chief Sitting Bull, and others. The result: a show that ran a full week, played before 1,700 patrons, received newspaper and TV coverage, and attracted at least 600 nonmember friends. One of these, a prominent bank official, said, “Thank you for the opportunity of not only enjoying this show but of making some Mormon friends.”

My brother, sister, and I moved to a safer place, and for a short while we were all right, but the rebels eventually hit that town too. This time we didn’t have time to run away. My brother was taken and later killed. My sister and I were lined up outside with all the other women. The rebel soldiers were chopping off limbs of all the women in the line. We were all so frightened. Everyone was crying and praying—even people who had never believed in God before. I was not a member of the Church at the time, but I believed in God and prayed that His will would be done and hoped that He would find a way to save me.
My dear sister, who was several places ahead of me in line, had both of her legs cut off. But as the rebels reached the woman in front of me, our army came rushing in, and the rebels ran away. I know that I was not better than the people who were in front of me or behind me, but I thanked God that I had been spared and prayed that I might understand His plan for me.

But just because you should will always mean that you can with the Lord’s help.
I know that this principle is true. Believe it or not, I was once young, trim and fit like you. Also like yourselves, my future was an open slate. As a young lawyer in Chicago, the opportunities were grand and expansive. When my wife converted to the gospel, however, it changed our lives. As we learned to make right choices, we also learned that just because we could do things didn’t mean we should. By following principles we learned in the gospel and by listening to the Spirit, I have seen the many great blessings and tender mercies we have received from the Lord. We ended up moving from the big town of Chicago with the big salaries and big opportunities to return home to be closer to our families. I was also led to leave the practice of law after a quarter of century to teach 9th graders math at Waianae High. And just a few months ago, I was blessed with the opportunity to work with CES and the Seminaries and Institutes of Religion department. In the eyes of the world, our life may not glamorous, I am not be powerful, we are not wealthy, but our joy could not be fuller in our family, friends and what we have been blessed with.

Dan Jones had been baptized into the Church in the spring of 1843, and he was with Joseph Smith at Carthage Jail the night before the Prophet was killed. As they lay next to each other on the hard floor, the Prophet asked his Welsh friend if he was afraid to die.
“Has that time come think you?” Dan asked. “Engaged in such a cause I do not think that death would have many terrors.”
The Prophet then gave what would be his last recorded prophecy as he told Dan, “You will yet see Wales and fulfill the mission appointed you ere you die.”

“Conner, it’s time to get up,” Mom said, gently shaking him.
Conner moved slowly at first. Then he remembered.
“Today’s Sunday!” he shouted as he jumped out of bed. He raced to put on his Sunday clothes and hurried down to breakfast.
What is he doing today that is so special? Mom wondered.
Conner did have something special to do. He had waited all week for Sunday to come.
Last week in his Primary class, Sister Plummer had said, “When I was about 10, I discovered something that helped me be more reverent. If you would like to know my secret, listen for the words always remember in sacrament meeting next week, and then always remember what comes after those words.”
Conner had decided he would listen. He wanted to know Sister Plummer’s secret.
At church, he heard Bishop Sheppard say, “Remember to come to the ward party.” Conner knew that wasn’t Sister Plummer’s “always remember.”
He listened as the congregation began to sing the sacrament hymn. He wondered if Sister Plummer’s special words might be in the hymn. He pointed at each word in the hymnbook and found himself singing along. But he didn’t find the special words.
Conner bowed his head and listened carefully as one of the priests said the sacrament prayer. Toward the end of the prayer, he heard “always remember.” He knew Sister Plummer’s secret! He knew who he was always to remember. But can I “always remember” Jesus? he wondered.
Conner folded his arms and sat reverently. When a deacon stumbled as he passed the sacrament, Conner wanted to poke his little sister and say, “Sara, did you see that?”
But he didn’t because he remembered.
After the sacrament, the first speaker was Sister Swanson. She smiled a lot and was easy to listen to. He had no trouble remembering while she was speaking.
“Good morning, brothers and sisters!” Brother Swanson said. He was a big man with a jolly voice. But the words Brother Swanson spoke were almost as large as he was. Conner didn’t understand everything he said and soon lost interest. His fingers began to fumble around in his pockets. He found a rubber band and started to twist it. Suddenly he remembered. The rubber band went back into his pocket, and he looked up at Brother Swanson and listened for words he knew.
A girl in front of Conner was chewing gum and blew a little bubble. It made a tiny pop. Conner watched as she began blowing another. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.
Then Conner remembered. When the big bubble popped, he didn’t see the girl’s face covered in pink gum. So he didn’t laugh like some people around him did.
Not long after the bubbles, the Johnsons’ baby rolled under the bench and pulled playfully at Conner’s leg.
Conner wanted to play with her, but he stopped himself just in time. He had remembered.
“Sorry, Conner,” Sister Johnson whispered as she struggled to get the wiggly baby girl back on the bench.
Conner didn’t hear or see them leave the chapel. His big blue eyes were watching Brother Swanson’s eyes fill with tears. His ears were hearing the speaker’s voice soften to a near whisper as he spoke of his love for the Savior. Conner felt warm and tingly inside.
After the meeting, Mom said, “Conner, you were so reverent today. How did you do it?”
Conner smiled. “Every time I thought about something else, I always remembered Someone.”
“Who did you always remember?” Mom asked.
“I always remembered Jesus,” Conner said, “and it felt good!”

I should like to tell you of three eighteen-year-old boys. In 1856 more than a thousand of our people, some of them perhaps your forebears, found themselves in serious trouble while crossing the plains to this valley. Because of a series of unfortunate circumstances, they were late in getting started. They ran into snow and bitter cold in the highlands of Wyoming. Their situation was desperate, with deaths occurring every day.
President Young learned of their condition as the October general conference was about to begin. He immediately called for teams, wagons, drivers, and supplies to leave to rescue the bereft Saints. When the first rescue team reached the Martin Company, there were too few wagons to carry the suffering people. The rescuers had to insist that the carts keep moving.
When they reached the Sweetwater River on November 3, chunks of ice were floating in the freezing water. After all these people had been through, and in their weakened condition, that river seemed impossible to cross. It looked like stepping into death itself to move into the freezing stream. Men who once had been strong sat on the frozen ground and wept, as did the women and children. Many simply could not face that ordeal.
And now I quote from the record: “Three eighteen-year-old boys belonging to the relief party came to the rescue, and to the astonishment of all who saw, carried nearly every member of the ill-fated handcart company across the snowbound stream. The strain was so terrible, and the exposure so great, that in later years all the boys died from the effects of it. When President Brigham Young heard of this heroic act, he wept like a child, and later declared publicly, ‘that act alone will ensure C. Allen Huntington, George W. Grant, and David P. Kimball an everlasting salvation in the Celestial Kingdom of God, worlds without end.’” (Solomon F. Kimball, Improvement Era, Feb. 1914, p. 288.)
Mark you, these boys were eighteen years of age at the time. And, because of the program then in effect, they likely were holders of the Aaronic Priesthood. Great was their heroism, sacred the sacrifice they made of health and eventually of life itself to save the lives of those they helped.
They are part of the heritage that lies behind you of the Aaronic Priesthood. Be true, my young brethren, be true to that great inheritance.

It was 5:30 a.m. on a day in December 2004 when Bronco Mendenhall, then the second-youngest Division I head football coach in America, stepped into his office on the still-dark second floor of the Student Athlete Building for his first full day on the job. There was nothing on his desk or shelves. “It was a surreal experience. I was wondering, ‘What have I done?’ and, ‘What do I do now?’” he recalls. “I found myself on my knees within minutes.”

Sometime around 8 a.m. a knock interrupted his prayer. At his door stood the patriarch of BYU football, LaVell Edwards (EdD ’78). Edwards set a chair directly in front of Mendenhall’s chair, and the two sat down, knee to knee.

“[LaVell Edward’s] first words were ‘You have a tough job.’ Then there was a pause and silence,” says Mendenhall. “It wasn’t very comforting to hear that. But then [LaVell] just said, ‘But it’s a great job.’ I didn’t know what he meant by either at the time.”

Mendenhall has come to consider [Coach] Edwards a mentor and an advocate. “It’s nice to have someone who has done the job better than anyone, who clearly understands what it’s like to be a head coach here.” The relationship has helped Mendenhall frame what a BYU football team ought to be. [Peter B. Gardner, “The Bronco Way,” BYU Magazine, winter 2007, 22–23]

There’s a young man in the mission field who’s made that choice in the last month. I heard his story, but there must have been thousands of such choices made last month. His companion would have made Job’s critical friends seem like the Three Nephites. Just living and working with his companion required more contribution than the young missionary had dreamed he was going to have to make. The mission president authorized them to stay in their apartment because wind brought the effective temperature to 80 degrees below zero. So, the young man had to decide, “Shall we go out? We’ve been tracting and it’s produced nothing. For what it would cost us, what would we get? We haven’t got a contact, so we’d be just hitting doors.” Well, he went—that’s an odd investment decision, but he went. What he got was to meet one man, behind one of a hundred doors. In his letter about the man’s baptism, he said, “I’ve never been more happy in my life.”

I grew up in Glenwood, Alberta, Canada, and attended a small school there. At that time in the Canadian school system, twelfth-grade students had to take a written Provincial test that was issued by the Department of Education. You took the same test whether you attended the largest school in Edmonton or a small school like mine, with only ten or twelve of us in the twelfth grade.
The exam included math, physics, chemistry, history, social studies, and a foreign language. I had studied French with a teacher who didn’t know how to speak it, and when I took the test, I failed to pass the French section. As a result I never received a high school diploma.
I went into the Royal Canadian Air Force after that and then served my mission. During my mission, I gained a great desire to do something more about my education, so after my release and my marriage, my wife and I came to Salt Lake City, Utah.
I took the entrance examination at the University of Utah. I scored very high in math and science but did very poorly in English. When I told the school officials that I wanted to go to law school, they told me that my poor English would make it impossible for me. Well, they knew English, but they didn’t know some things that I knew. A scripture came to my mind: “Fools mock, but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall take no advantage of your weakness;
“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” (Ether 12:26–27.)
I knew what I had to do. I took every English class I could while I was a freshman and a sophomore. In addition, my wife and I made a rule. If either of us caught the other saying something incorrectly, the one making the mistake had to put a nickel in a pot. As you might imagine, most of the money in the pot was mine. But I was soon making A’s in English.
I got into law school and graduated near the top of my class, and my knowledge of English became a key to my successful thirty-four years as a lawyer. The Lord demonstrated the truth of that scripture in Ether to me, both in a spiritual sense and in a literal sense. They are not just idle words; they are the words of God.

A teenage girl sitting under the chairs. The rest of the story: When I was a teenager, one of the girls my age always sat under her chair in class. This young sister had grown up in many foster-care homes and only felt safe in an enclosed area. Since then, I have recognized that we cannot expect students to learn when they are in ?ght, ?ight, or freeze mode. Students must feel safe if they are to learn and, most importantly, feel the love of the Savior.

Many years ago my father built a small cabin on part of the ranch property where he had been raised. The vistas across the meadows were exceptional. When the walls were framed in for the cabin, I made a visit. I was surprised that the window with the view focused directly on a power pole that was a short distance from the house. To me, it was a huge distraction from the magnificent view.
I said, “Dad, why did you let them put the power pole directly in front of your view from the window?”
My father, an exceptionally practical and calm man, exclaimed with some emotion, “Quentin, that power pole is the most beautiful thing to me on the entire ranch!” He then made his case: “When I look at that pole, I realize that, unlike when I grew up here, I will not have to carry water in containers from the spring up to the house to cook, wash my hands, or bathe. I will not have to light candles or oil lamps at night to read. I want to see that power pole right in the middle of the view window.”
My father had a different perspective on the power pole than I did. To him that pole represented an improved life, but to me it was a stumbling block to a magnificent vista. My dad valued power, light, and cleanliness above an aesthetic view. I immediately realized that while the pole was a stumbling block for me, it had great practical, symbolic meaning to my father.
My father saw the pole as a means of providing power, light, and abundant water for cooking and cleansing. It was a stepping-stone to improving his life.

During World War II, my widowed mother supported her three young children on a schoolteacher’s salary that was meager. When I became conscious that we went without some desirable things because we didn’t have enough money, I asked my mother why she paid so much of her salary as tithing. I have never forgotten her explanation: “Dallin, there might be some people who can get along without paying tithing, but we can’t. The Lord has chosen to take your father and leave me to raise you children. I cannot do that without the blessings of the Lord, and I obtain those blessings by paying an honest tithing. When I pay my tithing, I have the Lord’s promise that he will bless us, and we must have those blessings if we are to get along.” … The law of tithing and the promise of blessings to those who live it apply to the people of the Lord in every nation. I hope our members will qualify for the blessings of the Lord by paying a full tithing.

Caroline Hopkins Clark and her husband, John, had joined the Church in Great Britain and responded to the call of the prophet to gather with the Saints in Zion. The journey by ship was marked by unusually cold and wet weather, poor food, and unsanitary living conditions—all accentuated by severe seasickness. Her journal is laced with many comments such as: “Very wet and cold” (2 May 1866). “We remain very sick. Martha hasn’t been able to eat anything since she came” (8 May). After several weeks on the sea, they arrived in New York and began the trek by land to Zion. More hardships and heartaches awaited them. Her diary entry for June 14 reads: “Today’s journey is a sad one to us, on account of the death of our dear baby. It grieved us much. . . . John stayed behind to bury her.” After finally being united with the Saints in the Salt Lake Valley, Caroline sent a record of their journey along with a letter to the family she left behind in England. To the family and friends who thought her crazy to join with the Mormons and follow them to a desert valley on the American frontier, she wrote:

I have no doubt that when my sisters know that I have lost the baby, they will say, that it would not have died if I had stayed home. There is the same good here as there. . . . She was so well the beginning of the journey, but we know she is safe and that if we prove true to the gospel that we have embraced, that we shall have her again with the others at the resurrection. . . .

I dare say you would like to know if we have regretted our journeying. As yet we do not regret the time we left England. If we had the privilege to come back we would not accept it.

For several months I didn’t attend seminary. It was hard for me to get up early, and I thought it was all right not to go because it didn’t help me much in school.
One day my friend told me that the teacher had taken my name off the attendance roll. I thought about the valuable things I had missed in seminary. So the next day at 5:45 a.m., I made myself get up to go to seminary.
For the next couple of mornings it was hard for me to get up, but I put the effort into making it there. After that, I noticed I felt rested and alert, had a better attention span, and was able to absorb more information at school and actually remember it when it counted.
Seminary has been a good experience for me because it has made my days at school go more smoothly. Seminary has also given me a better understanding of the gospel and the Church, which will help me when I serve a mission.

The children were excited for sharing time. A returned missionary was visiting to tell about his mission in Japan. When he had arrived in Japan, everything seemed so different. The Japanese people used chopsticks instead of forks, wrote sentences using characters instead of letters, and spoke a language that was hard for him to understand. Children took their lunches to school in “bento boxes” and read books from back to front. The missionary quickly learned to love the Japanese people and the way they lived.

The Lord wants all of us to be missionaries. One way you can do that is by being a friend to those who have moved into your neighborhood or come from another country and to those who look, speak, or dress differently. As you learn to love those who are different from you, you are preparing for the day when you are called to serve a mission. It could be anywhere in the world!