Gospel Story Finder

Watauga Ward
The Primary children of the Watauga Ward Primary, Kingsport Tennessee Stake, enjoyed participating in the children’s sacrament meeting program. The congregation liked the presentation because the children sang and talked from the heart.

When Great-Uncle Joe came down from up north to live on our farm, he brought his dog, Silver, with him. Uncle Joe didn’t stay with us in the farmhouse; he preferred to live in the old log cabin down by the pasture. It was just as well, for my six-year-old sister, Linda, was afraid of Silver—he was so big! Even Papa looked at the dog with suspicion. A touch of wolf in Silver’s mixed ancestry showed up in his howl.
Uncle Joe had so many stories to tell about the north woods that nothing could keep me away from the cabin. Gradually the dog came to accept me and even wagged his tail a little when I brought him a juicy morsel of meat.
Uncle Joe died the second spring after he came to live with us, and after his death, Silver attached himself to me. Though he looked like a German Shepherd, Mama could see only wolf in him, and she wouldn’t have him around the house. When Papa said that he’d give the dog away, I begged to keep him. “I’ll feed him at the cabin,” I said.
Papa hesitated, then gave the dog away on account of Mama. But Silver returned again and again. Papa was baffled.
One day in May when Linda and I were cutting across the pasture on our way home from school, Linda stopped to pick violets down by the stream. When we saw the bull, he was not much more than a stone’s throw away. It was Mr. Foster’s black monster!
Boy, was he a big one! He had broken through the fence into our pasture. The bull was a people-hater, and he’d gored Mr. Foster’s hired man and nearly killed him.
The bull saw us about the same time that we saw him. He took a few steps forward, then charged.
“Run!” I yelled, but Linda was so scared that she couldn’t move.
Suddenly Silver came racing into the pasture. He leaped at the bull and sank his teeth into his nose. I grabbed Linda’s hand, and we ran for the fence. Papa, who was plowing in the next field, heard my yells and came tearing down the hill. He leaped the fence and practically threw Linda and me over it to safety. The bull had shaken Silver off by then and was only a few yards from Papa when the dog grabbed his nose again, causing the bull to stumble as he threw Silver through the air. But the dog’s maneuver gave Papa enough time to scramble over the fence himself.
Silver, limping and bleeding from a gash in his hindquarters, crawled through the fence. I threw my arms around him.
Papa took Linda’s hand, and nobody said a word as we headed for the house. Silver followed.
When Mama saw him, she yelled, “Don’t let that dog in here. He has wolf in him.”
“That dog just saved the children’s lives—mine too,” Papa said unsteadily.
“What!” Mama really looked at us then. Shaken, she pulled Linda and me to her.
After Papa told Mama what had happened, I added excitedly, “Silver pulled the bull down by his nose! Uncle Joe told me that that’s how wolves get a moose.”
“That dog deserves a medal,” Papa declared.
Mama took a long look at Silver lying at my feet, licking his wound. “Maybe he would prefer a good meal.” She went inside and came out with a big bowl of scraps. “I guess he can stay here now,” she said.
Linda patted Silver. I was so happy that I turned cartwheels.
After that, Silver stayed around the house but never came inside; he was a bush dog. When I was outside, he followed me everywhere. He never lolloped around like most dogs, though; he had dignity. Each night before I went inside to bed, he gave me his paw to shake, then settled down in the woodshed.
Silver was my friend.

Meilian says that Value Experiences are great because they carry over into everyday life. “At school I’m in a fashion merchandising class, and for one of our big projects we produced a fashion show,” she says. “Because we’d already talked about modesty as part of Personal Progress, I chose to wear modest clothes for the whole thing. The experiences that go with each value help you have a better understanding of how to turn values into actions.”

I am from Ponce, Puerto Rico. I am currently serving a full-time mission in Las Vegas, Nevada. Reading the Liahona (Spanish) regularly has helped me become a better person and a better missionary. Many times, conversion stories shared in the magazine help me better understand the experiences investigators are going through. Being aware of their needs helps me as I teach them the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Elder Alex GonzálezNevada Las Vegas Mission

One of the “new” families in the branch is José Felipe Hernández Jorge and his wife, Magnolia. Baptized in Mérida, Mexico, eight years ago, they moved their family to Palenque two years ago and quietly fell into inactivity. “Six or seven months ago, Elder and Sister de la Cruz found us and we became friends,” says Brother Hernández. “We’ve been attending ever since!” After only a few months, he succeeded Elder de la Cruz as branch president.

My wife and I have just celebrated a remarkable thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years ago, young missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on our door in Nottingham, England.
How did their message appeal to two active members of another church? We, and generations before us, had held membership in the established church of the land. Furthermore, we were very happy with our way of life. Two precious children had graced our home, and a new job in a large industrial company was giving challenge and enjoyment.
What more could we hope for? What could add to our happiness? As the missionaries taught us and prayed with us, we began to realize that there were gaps in our life, that we had unfulfilled needs. For a few minutes may I share with you ten ways in which our lives became even more purposeful and happy as these needs were fulfilled. I am sure you will be able to identify some of these needs in your life, in your home, in your family.

The group really didn’t know how well the program was being received until one day the LDS Hour had to be cancelled because of a scheduling conflict with another program the cable station was airing. That was when the telephone started ringing. Viewers wanted to know what had happened to “their” program. The following month the show was back in its scheduled spot, and both the cable station and the local wards were glad to know they had a program that was missed when it didn’t make it on the air.

Imagine you are a special agent and you are on a deadly, super important mission. You press your earpiece into your ear, listening for the command center … but then you remember your earpiece is broken. You meant to get that fixed, but never got around to it. Whoops. Carefully, you ease open a door and then step inside a warehouse. Immediately a man jumps up and starts shouting and waving a gun. You hear others shouting and running. Worst entrance ever! Why didn’t you know anything about the security here? Oh well. Just stick to the plan. Oh that’s right. There is no plan.
Wait, what? No communication, no information, and no plan? What are you doing out here anyway?

On Sunday 10 April 2022, an interfaith fast for peace and reconciliation was held in the metropolitan Borough of Kirklees in West Yorkshire.
Organised by the Huddersfield Stake but promoted among those of all faiths, and none, participants were invited to fast in accordance with their own traditions or preferences, and to donate the value of food not eaten to the Disasters Emergency Committee1.
Residents and religious leaders from various faith groups posted supportive video messages on Facebook and Instagram pages, inviting others to participate. The fast was supported by the local Ukrainian association, enthusiastic Church of England vicars, as well as the borough’s Hindu and Quaker congregations.
Father George Spencer, of St Saviour’s Church at Ravensthorpe near Dewsbury, commented: “When we fast, we double our efforts to offer our practical help, as best we can, to the people in Ukraine and other conflicts. But we also in our hearts lift them to the Lord, wishing for hope and solace.”
In all, it is estimated that over 1,500 people responded to the invitation, including members of the Huddersfield Stake, other congregations, community groups, and wider audiences through social media.
The fasting campaign was to help build solidarity and understanding across the community, to spread a message of peace, and instil a desire to help those suffering across the world from conflicts, including Afghanistan and Ukraine, where the DEC is active. The initiative was inclusive of all communities, politically neutral, and explicitly recognised the many tragic conflicts around the world.
President Bridgstock of the Huddersfield Stake said, “We know that the Prince of Peace is the answer to reconciling conflicts. He expects us to work in unity with everyone who desires peace. We felt strengthened by our joint community efforts to raise money, awareness and positive action for those in conflict situations.”

I think of another. I knew him well. He joined the Church when long ago I was a missionary in the British Isles. He had a smoking habit. He prayed for strength in that springtime of his Church membership, and the Lord answered his prayer and gave him power to overcome his habit. He looked to God and lived with a joy he never had previously known. But something happened. Family and social pressures were brought against him. He lowered his vision and gave way to his appetite. The smell of burning tobacco seduced him. I saw him some years later. We talked together of the old and better days he had known. He wept bitterly. He blamed this and he blamed that, and as he did so, I was inclined to repeat the words of Cassius—
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
(William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, act 1, scene 2, lines 140–41.)

—You just got your first weekend pass. For the first time you’re really on your own. A new friend has invited you to come with him to a “great place” he knows about. But you have a vague feeling that this great place may not be somewhere your mother would want you to go. You don’t want him to think you’re still tied to mama’s apron strings, and you certainly don’t want to spend the weekend alone in the barracks. Have you thought carefully about what you want to do when “no one will find out”?

Then another memory comes. It’s 1974, and my brothers and I are visiting with our great-grandfather Curtis Ellsworth. It is the last time I will see him in this life. He will die a short time later, at age 90, while I serve a mission in Guatemala.
In this moment from the past, I wonder: “What is Grandpa Ellsworth thinking as he looks upon us, his posterity? Does he remember when his own children were small? Does he worry about our future? Do we remind him that life passes swiftly?”
As we said goodbye in that long-ago moment, I remember that Grandpa Ellsworth wept. For decades I wondered why. Now I think I know.

For the next several months, time seemed to stand still for me; it seemed as though my life was a continual nightmare. No one seemed to understand my situation. There was no organization or group to support me or offer understanding. My life lost all direction and meaning. I was listless, tossed like a ship without sails, rudder, or anchor. Because I lost sight of all my former goals, my feelings were almost totally dead.
After spending some time at home, I met my childhood sweetheart and we began dating. Several months later we were married, but only after a very bad courtship. Because I had no priesthood, we could not enter the temple to be married, so we settled for a civil wedding. From the beginning our relationship was unstable.
I realized that attending church was a necessary part of the repentance process I had committed myself to, but I found it an almost overwhelmingly painful experience. Over and over again I reminded myself of my condition. Many times unknowing friends called on me to say a prayer or answer a question about the lesson and I knew that the only thing I was allowed to say was, “I’m sorry—I can’t.” In many ways I was reminded of my serious transgression.
As painful as these and other situations were, I was able to bear all but one. Each week as the sacrament was blessed and passed, in my heart I grieved and wept and prayed. But, because of my transgression and excommunication, I could not seal the holy baptismal contract by partaking of the sacrament. I had broken my contract. I longed to be one with the Lord and to be freed from my mountain of guilt.
Years earlier I had experienced the powers of Satan and his followers. Now I soon learned with great clarity the divine power contained in the righteous exercise of the priesthood. I could no longer exert this power to ward off these evil influences. Over the next several months, I called on my father many times to bless both me and my house and to cast out the darkness.

When it came time to choose whether or not to go to college, pick a career, and consider all the other great challenges facing high school seniors, I decided to go to the high school counselor. He gave me a test loosely defined as an aptitude test. I had already decided I was a very important person with tremendous potential, because like every LDS child, I’d been taught that since I was little. “You’re a leader, Kieth; you can do the things that you want to do. You have great talent, you have intellect, and you have great capacity.” Loving parents and teachers kept telling me that. I don’t know if they believed it, but I believed it. And by the time I was a senior in high school, I was ready to go out and meet the world.

Then I went to see my counselor about the results of my tests. He sat down, looked at the paper, and said, “How are you, Kieth? Sit down. Well, let’s see, what ah … what are you interested in?”

“Well, I’d like to be a doctor.”

“No, ah … I think you probably ought not to set your sights that high; it would be very disappointing to you. Have you considered a vocation?”

I said, “Well, let me look at the results of the tests,” and he handed me the paper. I think they were in alphabetical order because I only read the first thing on the list, cheese wrapper! Apparently I was very dexterous. That voice didn’t reinforce the things my father and the Church had taught me about my capacity and potential.

When President Russell M. Nelson invited us sisters to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year (“Sisters’ Participation in the Gathering of Israel,” Oct. 2018 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 69]), I decided to try. I finally finished reading the Book of Mormon (for the first time on my own!) at 11:55 p.m. on December 31. Then I asked Heavenly Father if it was true. I didn’t really feel anything different, but I shrugged it off.
As time went on, though, I started getting a bit worried about not receiving an answer. I thought that eventually, I’d feel a KABLAM, and I’d just know it was true—but I never got that mind-blowing feeling. I finally reasoned that I might as well read the Book of Mormon again and see what happens. So I went back to 1 Nephi and started over.
At that time, I was a captain on my robotics team. When I’d sit down to read my scriptures, I was often worrying about some aspect of our team. But as I read the Book of Mormon, I began to see how it applied to my problems, and I started to recognize a pattern of the Lord’s hand helping me. It was a huge faith-building experience. I really did know the Book of Mormon was true; I just hadn’t realized it before.
Now I’m reading the Book of Mormon again. As you read it, you can come to know it’s true as well.
Katy B., Rhode Island, USA

James’s goal for the day was much different. He planned to be obedient to his parents—to immediately and cheerfully do what he was asked. “It seems as if your mother always wants you to do something when your friends come over to play or when you in the most exciting part of a book,” he said. “Sometimes I stopped and told myself to do it now. At the end of the day, I was able to do it as soon as she asked. It gave me a good feeling,” he concluded.

The invitation to teach in Uppsala was a great academic honor, and it was a personal honor as well. During an earlier visit to Sweden, Paul’s commitment to his standards was tested.
“I had given a talk at a fancy dinner hosted by the king and queen,” Brother Cox recalls. He was sitting next to the queen, and someone stood up and offered a toast in her honor. “There were about 600 people in the room. I looked, and raised wineglasses were everywhere. I didn’t know what to do, so I picked up my water glass and raised it. There was a gasp—people were just amazed I would do that.
“After the toast, as I sat down, the queen leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, ‘You are very wise.’ That was eight years ago, and now they’ve invited me back again. I think you gain respect from people if you’re true to what you believe.”

My younger brother, my dad, and I planned a camping trip that would begin the day before my 13th birthday. It was a great way to spend a birthday.
We went camping at Duck Fork Reservoir and had taken our two horses with us. Babe is white in color and extremely calm. Toast is brown and exactly the opposite in personality. We were all enjoying being in the mountains, except Toast. He would not settle down and kept Dad up all night.
We tied Toast to a log on a long rope to graze. We let Babe loose with a bell around her neck. Horses have strong herd instincts and usually stay close to each other. While we were cooking breakfast, Babe wandered where Toast couldn’t see her. He started running, dragging the log behind him. We caught a glimpse of Babe heading down the canyon. My dad and I went to catch her, hoping Toast was nearby. Half a mile later, Babe turned and was heading back to camp when the hail started. I was dressed in just jeans and a T-shirt and was soon drenched.
Dad beat me back to camp, and when I got there, he was saddling Babe to go look for Toast. As my brother, Allen, and I watched Dad ride away, I thought of the log Toast was dragging and how many ways he could kill or hurt himself. I had joined the Church two years before with my mother, sister, and brother. At that moment, I knew we needed God’s help. I stood in the rain and prayed that we would find Toast alive and well. Then I went into the tent, crawled into my sleeping bag, and tried to get warm.
Dad came back in an hour. He hadn’t found Toast. I was getting nervous sitting around, so Allen and I went for a walk. We looked up and saw Dad walking toward us. I could tell by his face that the news was bad.
“He’s dead,” Dad said, forlornly.
“Where?” I asked.
“Downstream.”
When we got to the place where Toast lay, tears made my eyes warm. He was soaking wet, lying on his side in the middle of the stream. Then a shiver shook his whole body, and he slowly raised his head. He was alive! A smile crept across my face.
Toast had been cut deeply by the rope and large patches of skin had been torn off his back legs. The cold stream water had stopped most of the bleeding, but he had hypothermia. We untangled Toast, but he couldn’t stand up. We tried to drag him out of the stream, but we were no match for a thousand-pound horse. I tied a rope to Babe, and Dad tied the other end to Toast’s halter. Dad pushed on Toast, and I dragged Babe. Finally, with much effort, Toast stood up.
We headed to camp where we put blankets on Toast. We gave him warm water and hot mash for the hypothermia. Even though he was hurt, Toast was alive. For a few moments, I hid behind the horse trailer and sobbed out a prayer of thanks.
We decided to wait until morning to try to get him down the canyon and to the vet. We were afraid he would collapse in the trailer, and we would not be able to get him up. Allen asked Dad if we should say a prayer. We bowed our heads and gave thanks for prayers already answered.
Toast is healing. The vet says he should heal completely, but it will take a long time. I learned that, although Heavenly Father did not answer our prayers in exactly the way we wanted him to, he did answer our prayers and is still answering them.

1813 (age 7) Leg is nearly amputated but saved by taking out pieces of bone

When Spencer’s baby sister cries, he gets her special blanket to help her feel better.
Spencer, age 4, Utah, USA