Gospel Story Finder

I remember when I was a 17-year-old man, my father, with justification, began to criticize me for something I had done wrong. I became upset and turned to dad and said something like, “Hey, let up, dad. This is the first time I have ever been a teenager.”

My father, in a beautifully sensitive way, said, “Hugh, this is the first time I have ever been a parent.”

My father, perhaps unknowingly, had taught me a great lesson. As a teenager, I had responsibilities to my parents and was to be patient with them as I expected them to be patient and understanding with me.

It has also blessed me in my callings. While serving as an institute teacher, I learned that the Book of Mormon was written for our day.1 But in preparing my lessons, I found that statement is not only generally true, but it’s true for specific people in specific situations at specific times. For instance, sometimes as I prepared to teach, one of my student’s faces would come into my mind, and I would recognize something particular I needed to teach for that person’s benefit. Such promptings occurred frequently and were confirmed when a student would talk to me after class to let me know the lesson was exactly what he or she needed.

Rachel is already in the Beehive class in Young Women. But her birthday is in January, so she is still in Primary for class time.
She used to feel sad that she didn’t get to go to Sunday School with the girls who were a few months older. One reason she feels better about it now is that her Primary class is studying the Doctrine and Covenants. “It’s really interesting, and that helps keep me from thinking about not being in Sunday School,” Rachel says.
Rachel is also happy that she can still be in Primary class with her friend Marissa. “If I had moved on completely, she would have been left in a class with no other girls,” Rachel says.

May I share with you a personal experience? We had spent nearly four years in South America and returned just in time for our eldest son to enter Brigham Young University. Several months after school had begun we received a call—I think it was a collect call—and the conversation proceeded something like this:
“Hello, Dad?”
“Yes.”
“This is David.”
“Yes, what do you want now?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Nothing! Well, why did you call then?”
“Oh, I just wanted to tell you about school. I love it. It’s great. I am glad to be here. I like the place where I live. I like my roommate. I like my professors and I like the spirit here.”
And I said, “Yes, but what do you need?”
“I don’t need anything.”
“Well, why did you call?”
“I just called to say ‘Thank you.’ I am grateful for your helping me to be here.”
Well, there was considerable silence on our end of the line and we muttered something about, “We’re glad you’re happy.” Later that night as his mother and I prayed, we thanked the Lord for a thankful son. The lesson, of course, came clear to me. I appreciate a son who says, “Thank you” for things that parents have done, as all parents do. But I am a son also. I have a Father in heaven, who, like me, appreciates a son or a daughter who frequently says, “Thank you.”

Brethren, it is a privilege to be with you in this historic conference. When I was a new mission president, I was excited to receive our first group of new missionaries. A few of our more experienced missionaries were preparing for a brief meeting with them. I noticed that they had arranged children’s chairs in a semicircle.
“What’s up with the little chairs?” I asked.
The missionaries, somewhat sheepishly, said, “For the new missionaries.”
I believe the way we see others significantly impacts their perception of who they are and what they can become.1 Our new missionaries sat on adult chairs that day.

Elsie Power is one such sister, who writes: “I knew nothing about Zoom or technology and was afraid I might, press the wrong button but our bishop was there at the end of the phone, whenever needed, to walk me through the process. He is always available, and that is reassuring. I am now confident in using Zoom and enjoy meeting with the ward and now know how to contact my family members all over the world. It is a wonderful blessing and a friend who I once thought was my enemy.”

Some years ago, I met a remarkable family. Each member of the family had an unshakable testimony of the reality of the Resurrection. Each of the children had been born with a rare form of muscular dystrophy. The only daughter, Shanna, was then five years old. All of the children were intelligent and faith-filled.
We visited for a while, and the special spirit of that family filled my office and my heart. Then the parents asked if little Shanna could sing for me. She sang of a brighter future:
On a beautiful day that I dream about
In a world I would love to see,
Is a beautiful place where the sun comes out
And it shines in the sky for me.
On this beautiful winter’s morning,
If my wish could come true somehow,
Then the beautiful day that I dream about
Would be here and now.1
Eventually, Shanna passed away at age 14. At the funeral services, I spoke of the lovely song Shanna sang. I concluded with the thought: “Because our Savior died on Calvary, death has no hold upon any one of us. Shanna lives, whole and well, and for her that beautiful day she sang about is here and now.”

Most of the food boxes and gifts were delivered by hospice employees, but a few were given to the youth to deliver on Mutual night. Bundled in coats and singing carols, they carried food boxes, trees, and cards to a few of the people they had been able to serve in July. Of course it was a lot colder that night than it had been during the summer, but the warm feelings that come with service are the same no matter what time of year it is.

“Delivering the gifts and seeing how happy it made people was a lot of fun,” says Joe Jones, a priest. “It was also great to see how our service during youth conference really paid off.”

I was a boat ride away from home when I got the news that there had been a big argument in my family earlier that day. A very big argument.
My wife was angry. My kids were angry. Everyone was hurt. And I didn’t know what to do.
I had taken my work truck early that morning from my home island of Upolu, Samoa, and boarded the ferry to Savai’i, Samoa. This trip takes several hours in each direction.
After I talked with my wife on the phone and heard the anger in her voice, I admit that I had a hard time thinking about coming home to this situation. I wasn’t sure how I could help resolve so many hurt feelings in my family.
I pulled up to the wharf and began to pray. For the next four hours, I sat in my truck, praying about my family while waiting for the boat home.
After a long time in prayer, I received a clear spiritual impression. “Just show your love to your children. Show the love. Tell them, ‘I love you, and God loves you.’”
I’ve always gotten along with my kids. They know that I love them, and they know how much they mean to me. But I understood clearly, through revelation, that showing even greater love would be the only thing to bring my family close again.
When I arrived home late that night, my wife was still very upset. “What are you going to do?” she asked me.
I told her about the revelation I received. I told her that I felt we needed to show our love even more clearly to our kids. “I believe that will be the key to heal the pain everyone is feeling,” I said. We decided to give it a try.
Now, this was the normal night for our weekly family council. Because of the argument, however, most of my family wanted to cancel it that week. My wife and I decided we would hold family council anyway.
At first, nobody said a word. I could tell there had been a lot of tears and emotional pain in my family that day.
Then my wife began talking. “I just want you to know how much I love all of you,” she said. I watched the change in their body language. They had all been sitting on the edge of their chairs. But as soon as my wife started explaining how much she loved them, our children leaned back and relaxed. Soon they opened up as well. I also told them how much I love them and how glad I am that we are a family.
That solved the whole problem. It was incredible. All the anger was gone from our home, and we were able to fix what was broken.
Now, my family isn’t perfect. But we love each other very much. And we make time for each other. Whether it’s getting up early to read the scriptures together, going to church together, playing basketball together, sharing meals, or just listening to music together, we work hard to stay close.
Through it all, my wife and I know more than ever how important it is to show our love for our children.

My grandson Stuart also learned that Heavenly Father hears our prayers. He needed a friend at school. He and his mom decided to pray to help him find a friend. Every day when the recess bell rang, Stuart knew that his mom was praying for him. Pretty soon he made a new friend! Stuart learned that Heavenly Father cares about his worries. He learned that Heavenly Father would answer his prayers.

When Jesus lived on the earth He often taught people by telling them stories called parables. I would like to tell you a story—that you might call a parable—about a little girl. She is a little different from most girls because when Heavenly Father sent her spirit to earth she could not do some things just like other girls her age. Because she could not ride a bike, paint, write or do many other things that boys and girls and adults take for granted, she became known to her friends and schoolmates as mentally retarded when, in fact, her intelligence was above average.
This little girl has the same kinds of feelings as do other boys and girls—she hurts when she falls, is happy when someone tells her how nice she looks, and becomes emotionally upset when teased and made to feel she is no good by children who could be her friends.
Finally, after a great deal of help from doctors, family, and people who love her, she doesn’t cry so much when teased. But when these children tease her and can’t make her cry anymore by saying mean things, they sometimes hit her so she will cry. And she does, because she cries when someone hurts her.
My story, in case you haven’t guessed, is about me. It is my prayer that Heavenly Father will bring love and understanding into the hearts of these children so that my story can have a happy ending. This I say in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Wait, you haven’t finished your breakfast,” Mom said. Mom pushed the small plates of vegetables closer to Juhyuk.
Juhyuk looked at his breakfast. He was running late! Normally his big brother helped him get ready for church. But his brother was out of town, so Juhyuk had to go on his own today.
“OK, Mom,” Juhyuk said. He hurried to finish eating. Then he hugged Mom and headed for the door.
Mom stopped him. “Do you have your phone?”
Juhyuk held it up. “Yes. I can text my Primary teacher if I have a problem.”
“And a sweater under your coat? It’s cold.”
Juhyuk showed Mom his sweater.
She nodded. Juhyuk hurried out to the street. All the city sounds made him smile. It was fun to live in one of the biggest cities in South Korea!
But Juhyuk still wished his brother were with him. They always made the trip to church together.
“I know the way,” he told himself. And sure enough, before long he was at the first bus stop.
But he was alone there. That was strange. He checked his watch. He must have just missed the bus! Now he would have to wait for the next one.
After several minutes, other people started gathering. Finally, a bright blue bus rolled up. Juhyuk climbed the stairs, paid the driver, and sat down.
Ta-tink!
Juhyuk checked his phone after the text alert. It was from his Primary teacher.
“Are you on the bus? Remember, if you get lost, we can come find you!”
He grinned and texted back. “Yes. I’m on it now.”
This was only the short bus ride, though. The second bus he had to ride for more than an hour.
Juhyuk looked at the time and frowned. He didn’t want to miss the sacrament. He loved the part in each sacrament prayer that said, “always remember Him.” That meant always remembering Jesus. And Juhyuk wanted to do that.
When his aunt and uncle had invited him and his brother to church a few months ago, he met the missionaries. Elder Kim and Elder Moon taught them both about Jesus. The more Juhyuk learned about Jesus, the more he loved thinking about Him.
Ta-tink!
“Have you switched buses yet?” the text said.
“Not yet,” he texted back.
The bus pulled up to the busy street where Juhyuk needed to get off to switch buses. He asked the driver if his second bus had come.
“You just missed it,” the driver said. “The next one arrives in 15 minutes.”
“Oh, OK,” Juhyuk said. “Thank you!”
Finally, after the second bus ride, Juhyuk hurried inside the meetinghouse. His aunt and uncle had saved him a seat. He had made it!
Juhyuk thought about everything he had done to get to church. He thought of all the people who had helped him along the way. He felt that Heavenly Father was glad he was there.
Juhyuk said a silent prayer. “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, that I can come to church today.”

Chaotic Sunday mornings were a major trial. We tried to set the atmosphere with beautiful classical music while guiding one child after another in and out of the two bathrooms before the cowbell rang for a scrumptious breakfast. Still, getting everyone out the door and into the minivan to get to church on time was a trial of keeping the spirit of the Sabbath every Sunday. By the time we came home and enjoyed a nice dinner, we had calmed down enough to enjoy playing games together.

Those who know him well would speak of President Nelson facing the difficulties of life with faith and courage. When cancer took the life of his 37-year-old daughter, Emily, leaving a loving husband and five small children, I heard him say, “I was her father, a medical doctor, and an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ, but I had to bow my head and acknowledge, ‘Not my will but thine be done.’”4

Our Latter-day Saints in Liberia helped 507 friends enter the waters of baptism during the 10 months there were no full-time missionaries serving in their country. When one of our wonderful stake presidents there heard that the full-time missionaries may be returning, he remarked, “Oh good, now they can help us with our work.”

I listened not long ago to an example of one who surely seemed to lack this inner courage. A friend told of a spiritual and faith-promoting sacrament meeting she and her husband had attended in their ward. A young man who held the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood touched the hearts of the entire congregation as he spoke of gospel truths and of the joys of keeping the commandments. He bore a fervent, touching testimony as he stood at the pulpit, appearing clean and neat in his white shirt and tie.

Later that same day, as this woman and her husband drove out of their neighborhood, they saw this same young man who had so inspired them just a few hours earlier. Now, however, he presented a completely different picture as he walked down the sidewalk dressed in scruffy clothes—and smoking a cigarette. My friend and her husband were not only greatly disappointed and saddened, but they were also confused by how he could so convincingly seem to be one person in sacrament meeting and then so quickly seem to be someone else entirely.

The experiences of Herbert Schreiter typify those of many German Latter-day Saint men. Brother Schreiter had given up a good job to serve a two-year mission in the economically depressed years of 1929–1930. He returned to serve as branch president in Chemnitz (later Karl-Marx-Stadt) from 1937 to 1941, when he was called into the German army. While in the army, he served as Sunday School president in the Salzburg (Austria) Branch. Soon after the war, in 1946, Brother Schreiter was called to leave his family and serve another mission. His answer: “Of course! I am ready and am pleased to have this privilege” (Schutze, page 46).

During the holidays my family and I go to Grandma’s house for dinner. We eat sambusas (fried dough with rice or meat inside). Then the parents tell stories, my uncle and cousin play drums, and my sister and I dance!

Sometimes I like to make things bigger than they really are. I like to imagine that my life is more exciting and that some spectacular, dramatic event will happen to me that will change everything.
Perhaps that’s why it always frustrated me that when I said my prayers I didn’t get a big, warm feeling or see visions. I believed the gospel was true because practically everyone I knew said so. My life revolved around the Church. How could it not be true? But I wanted to feel something. A voice out of nowhere telling me, “The Church is, without a doubt, true,” wouldn’t have been disappointing. I guess I expected miracles from the gospel. With tear-filled eyes, I prayed to Heavenly Father, but nothing seemed to happen.
Then one night I felt a sudden need to read the scriptures. As I read in Mosiah, an increasing happiness burned inside me. It told how, after hearing King Benjamin speak, the people were overcome with the Spirit of the Lord. And it “wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Mosiah 5:2).
That’s what the Spirit is, I thought—the feeling of love when you choose the right, the warm reassurance to keep making good choices. I had felt it all along but didn’t recognize it.
I know that our Heavenly Father listens to us. Although sometimes we don’t acknowledge the answers until we understand them, he does answer our prayers.

One night, not long after moving into his own room, Nathan told his mom, “I need to sleep in Brad’s room tonight.” She didn’t think anything of it until Nathan’s shouts for help woke her up a few hours later. Brad was very ill with a stomach virus and could barely breathe. If Nathan hadn’t been in the room, she probably wouldn’t have known that Brad needed help. Brad could have suffocated.

“We’re glad Nathan listened to that little prompting and stayed with Brad that night,” his mom says.

But Nathan didn’t even see it as a prompting at first. “I just had this feeling I had to sleep in there, so I did it,” he says.