Gospel Story Finder

A few days after I had accepted the invitation, Lynda phoned me and asked if I could also put forward the name of a young person from our Church that was involved in doing service projects, someone that willingly helped others and would accept the responsibility to do one of the young person’s readings.
I contacted President Plumbley from the stake presidency and Nicky Linford from the stake Young Women presidency for a recommendation and they both agreed that Ruby Matthews-Quigley from Poole Ward would be a great representative from the Church. This was approved by Ruby’s bishop, Bishop Merry.
After talking with Ruby’s mother, I spoke to Ruby and she was delighted to be asked to take part.
Following the event, Ruby said: “When I was asked to do a reading for the Holocaust Memorial Day I was honoured as I knew that the person had to be someone who was doing good work within the community and that they would be a representative of the Church.
When I was doing the reading, I felt humbled by these words I read out: We value the sacrifices of those who have risked their lives to protect or rescue victims, as a touchstone of the human capacity for good in the face of evil.”

The sky was a crisp blue the morning I planned to fly out. After weeks of hard work, I had finally earned enough money to take a trip and visit one of my friends in another state. I was a little nervous. This would be my very first flight alone, so I tried to plan the trip down to every last detail, just so I could be sure I wouldn’t forget anything.
I fidgeted excitedly in the passenger seat as my mom drove me to the airport. When she asked when my departure time was, I read it to her off my travel itinerary. Then I took a closer look. The time I had boxed and starred as my departure was actually the arrival time at my destination. My heart sank, and I felt sick. My plane wasn’t getting ready to take off, it was already hundreds of miles away getting ready to land, and I wasn’t on it!
Dejected, I told my mom to just turn around and take me home, but she insisted on taking me to the airport, hoping that I might be able to catch a flight on standby.
I wasn’t very hopeful when I approached the ticket desk agent and explained my dilemma. To my surprise, the woman offered me a space on the next flight out, free of transfer charges. I was overjoyed. There was little I could have done to fix my predicament, but with the help and kindness of others, I was able to continue on my journey. I later found that the blessings didn’t end there.
As I was walking to my gate, I received a phone call from the temp agency I worked for. They offered me the best job opportunity I had received all summer. I happily accepted.
I didn’t think much of the call’s connection to my missed flight until months later when I was actually sitting at the job. It hit me then that the only way I could have possibly accepted the job was by missing my flight. In the past I had learned that calls from this temp agency were one-shot deals. If you answered the phone, the job was yours. If you didn’t answer, the agency would move on. If I had caught my flight that summer morning, I would have been in the air and out of reach when the call came. The job opportunity would have been lost. In the end my seemingly disastrous oversight blessed the rest of my summer.
I know that often, by reflecting on trials we’ve had in the past, we come to see how the Lord is blessing and shaping us, helping us to have the experiences that we need. I’m so grateful that I have been able to see such clear evidence of the Lord blessing and directing my life. If we are patient in our trials, we may ultimately see how they work for our good.

I applied for a classical piano competition a few months ago. I knew it would likely be on a Sunday, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. I started practicing three months before the competition, and it took a lot of time and effort to get ready.
A month before the competition, a seminary lesson on the Ten Commandments made me think about whether or not competing on a Sunday was a good idea. I wanted to push away the thought, because I’d already paid the application fee of TWD$1,400 (about US$50)—not to mention that I’d spent so much time practicing. I asked my seminary teacher if going to a piano competition would be breaking the Sabbath. He told me that was between God and me. But he bore his testimony that keeping the Sabbath day holy would be a blessing. I thought about it, and I really didn’t want to have to forfeit the competition.
Each day, I read a general conference article. I had just finished one talk and was about to put down the articles, but the next article caught my eye: “Stand in Holy Places” by President Thomas S. Monson (Ensign, Nov. 2011, 82). When I began reading it, I hadn’t been thinking at all about my piano competition, nor was I expecting an answer from the talk. But as I read, it was as if Heavenly Father were chastising me. President Monson’s words hit me hard:
“The Ten Commandments are just that—commandments. They are not suggestions. They are every bit as requisite today as they were when God gave them to the children of Israel” (83).
Then as I continued, I found:
“His constancy is something on which we can rely, an anchor to which we can hold fast and be safe, lest we be swept away into uncharted waters.
“… There is nothing which can bring more joy into our lives or more peace to our souls than the Spirit which can come to us as we follow the Savior and keep the commandments” (83).
I knew then what my Heavenly Father expected of me. I said a prayer and told Him that if it were necessary, I would forfeit the competition, even if I didn’t get a refund. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to forfeit if it were possible, that there might be a way for me to still compete, but that I would keep the Sabbath day holy no matter what.
At the end of the day, I told my piano teacher I couldn’t compete on a Sunday. She was surprisingly understanding. She said the competitions were divided by area and that I could try to transfer to an area that competed on a different day. I made a call the next day and successfully transferred to compete in Tainan, Taiwan, where the competition was held on Saturday.
I am so grateful that I made the decision to obey my Heavenly Father’s commandments. God not only wanted me to keep the Sabbath day holy, but He cared that the piano competition mattered a lot to me. Because I was willing to obey, my testimony of God’s love for me and of the blessings that come from obeying His commandments has been strengthened. I know that when we do our best to do what He asks, God will provide the rest.

I hate how nervous I get at piano recitals. I practiced hard, but …
Cassie’s a lot younger than I am, but she’s so much better. And I’m next after her. Yikes!
Later, at home.
I guess I did OK. But I’ll never be as good as Cassie. Maybe my lessons are just a waste of money.
Cassie does have a special gift. Someday she might be better than your teacher. But—
Not everything is a competition. I know you like making music. And we enjoy it too. When you were playing, your dad’s head was back and his eyes were closed.
Yeah, he does that in church sometimes too.
Well, he was smiling. And tapping his fingers. He was enjoying it, and so was I.
Just do your best, and you’ll enjoy your gift too.

Elder Christofferson said that early in his apostolic ministry, he felt overwhelmed by perceived expectations. But then he received a simple message from the Lord: “Forget about yourself and what people may think of you, whether they are impressed or disappointed or anything else. Just focus on what I want to give them through you. Focus on what I want them to hear through you.”

This Church began in the very early days of its history to provide for the erection of a temple (see Doctrine and Covenants 36:8; 42:36; 133:2). On the first day of June 1833, in a revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Lord directed the immediate building of a holy house in which He promised to endow His chosen servants with power and authority (see Doctrine and Covenants 95). The people responded to the call with willingness and devotion. In spite of dire poverty and in the face of unrelenting persecution, the work was carried to completion, and in March 1836 the first temple of modern times was dedicated at Kirtland, Ohio (see Doctrine and Covenants 109). The dedicatory services were marked by divine manifestations comparable to those attending the offering of the first temple of olden times, and on later occasions heavenly beings appeared within the sacred precincts with revelations of the divine will to man. In that place the Lord Jesus was again seen and heard (see Doctrine and Covenants 110:1–10).

Within two years from the time of its dedication, the Kirtland Temple was abandoned by the people who built it; they were forced to flee because of persecution, and with their departure the sacred temple became an ordinary house.

I would really like to thank you for the November 1996 New Era. All the stories were about happiness, and I really needed this. I didn’t have a very good year in school last year, and I always seemed to look at things negatively. The story “A Reason to Smile” made me open my eyes toward the positive things in life.
Laurina WardRock Hill, South Carolina

I can still remember my mother speaking softly to me one Saturday afternoon when, as a little boy, I asked her for permission to do something I thought was perfectly reasonable and which she knew was dangerous. I still am amazed at the power she was granted, I believe from the Lord, to turn me around with so few words. As I remember them, they were: “Oh, I suppose you could do that. But the choice is yours.” The only warning was in the emphasis she put on the words could and choice. Yet that was enough for me.

Her power to warn with so few words sprang from three things I knew about her. First, I knew she loved me. Second, I knew she had faced similar situations and had been blessed by making the right choice. And third, she had conveyed to me her sure testimony that the choice I had to make was so important that the Lord would tell me what to do if I asked Him. Love, example, and testimony: those were keys that day, and they have been whenever I have been blessed to hear and then heed the warning of a servant of the Lord.

During this conference we have formally installed a new president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a momentous occasion.
Only 12 times in the 144 years of our history has this been done. In the solemn assembly held this morning in the Tabernacle, President Spencer W. Kimball was accepted by the vote of the people as the President of the Church, but also as the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Lord.
The voting was unanimous. The positive and affirmative confirmation of the Holy Spirit was here also. Everyone in the great Tabernacle felt the presence of that divine influence. It was experienced also by those who listened on the radio and witnessed the proceedings by television. And as was the case in the days of Moses, “All the people … say, Amen.” (See Deut. 27.)
And what a wonderful man has been chosen. Having directed the Council of the Twelve for several years, and having served as President of the Church by action of the Council of the Twelve in the interim period from President Harold B. Lee’s death until this conference, he now is sustained by the vote of the membership as their divinely appointed spiritual guide and the interpreter of the word and will of the Lord.
As the Church members today by unanimous vote sustained our new President, they not only took upon themselves a great responsibility in pledging to follow him, but they also preserved a vital principle of the restored gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Their vote was a covenant, made with uplifted hands before God and witnesses who were numbered in the hundreds of thousands in the Tabernacle, on the radio, and by television.

Allie carefully placed the jars of freshly canned pears in the canning cupboard. All summer she’d helped Mom can fruits and vegetables. Only the shelf for peaches remained empty, but it would probably stay that way because they didn’t have any peach trees and money was too tight to buy any peaches. Closing the cupboard, Allie raced up the basement steps. She still had time to go over to Kim’s to help get the horses ready for the horse show tomorrow. Kim had promised to let her ride in the rescue race.
Mom was talking on the phone when Allie reached the kitchen. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” her mom was saying.
“Where are you going?” Allie asked the minute her mom hung up.
“Aunt Trudy is in the hospital, and Uncle Eric wants me to come right away. Will you run up to the attic and bring down the brown suitcase while I call your father? Please hurry—I have a dozen things to do before I leave.”
The next hour flew by in a flurry of packing and last-minute decisions. When Dad arrived with Allie’s brother, Rod, they sat down to a hurried meal.
“Who’s going to take care of things here while you’re gone?” Rod asked when he heard the news.
“Allie can manage the housework and cooking,” Mom answered.
Allie dropped her fork. “Does that mean that I can’t go to the horse show with Kim tomorrow? Kim promised that I could ride Socks in the rescue race.”
Rod rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Are horses the only thing that you ever think about?”
“That will do,” Dad said sternly as he pushed back his chair. “I’m going to drive your mother over to Randell. I’ll be back around eleven.”
Mom gave Allie a quick hug. “I’m depending on you to take care of things while I’m gone. You may go with Kim tomorrow if you finish your chores first.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Allie watched her parents drive away, then dashed out of the house, past the empty stables, and across the back pasture to Kim’s house to help her get ready for the next day.
The next morning Allie leaped out of bed and fixed breakfast.
“Dad, will you drop me off at Pringles on your way to the mill?” Rod asked as he ate the last slice of toast. “I finished at the Kellys’ yesterday, and Mr. Pringle hired me to mend his pasture fences.”
“Sure,” his father said, reaching for his hat. “They’re talking about closing the mill again this winter, so every extra job you can get will help out here. Let’s go.”
Allie rushed through her housework, then dashed upstairs to change clothes before Kim came. She had just finished fixing her hair when she heard a truck pull into the yard. She was out the back door before she realized that it wasn’t Kim.
“Morning, Allie,” Mr. Kelly called. “Rod said that you folks could use some peaches. We had a good crop this year, so I brought you some.” He lifted two large boxes from the truck and stacked them on the porch. “Tell your mother that she’d better can them today, or they’ll be too ripe.”
A mouth-watering smell rose from the boxes. What a waste! Too bad Mom isn’t here to can them, Allie thought. Then she remembered what her father had said a few days earlier: “If the mill closes again this winter, we’ll need all that Mom has canned and more.”
When Kim arrived a short time later, Allie had changed back into her old clothes and was washing jars.
“Aren’t you ready yet?” Kim asked.
“I’m not going.” Allie shook the soapy water from her hands. “I tried to call you.”
“Not going! Why not?” Kim demanded. “You can’t miss this competition. Diane Pringle is going to be there with Shalazod. It’s the last time we’ll see her gorgeous horse before she goes away to college. And what about the rescue race? I thought that you were dying to be in it.”
“I’m sorry,” Allie said, motioning toward the back porch. “Mr. Kelly brought us some ripe peaches. I can’t go off and let them spoil.”
Three quick blasts on a horn put an end to the discussion. “Mom’s getting impatient. See you later,” Kim called as she ran down the steps.
Allie rushed to the back porch. She wanted to yell to Kim to wait for her. But she caught her lower lip between her teeth and turned back to the kitchen. As she got out the canning equipment, she tried not to think about the horses and all the fun that she was going to miss.
It was past noon when Allie finished the first box of peaches. She was hot and tired. Peach fuzz made her arms itch, and the floor and stove were sticky with juice.
“Mom always makes it look easy,” she grumbled as she started on the second box of peaches.
Allie was lifting the last rack of jars from the canner when her father and brother came home from work.
“What’s all this?” her father asked. “I thought that you were going to the horse show with Kim today.”
Allie added the hot jars to the ones already covering the counters. “I was, but Mr. Kelly brought us two boxes of peaches this morning, and they needed to be canned before they spoiled.” She looked at the cluttered kitchen. “Sorry—I haven’t had time to start dinner yet.”
“I think that we can make do with soup and sandwiches,” Dad said. “Rod, give Allie a hand while I make a phone call.”
When dinner was over, Allie was almost too tired to move, but she felt a surge of pride when she looked at the rows of bottled peaches.
“How about taking a walk with me,” her father said.
“Right now?” Allie didn’t want to get out of her chair.
“If you’re too tired, I guess I’ll just have to pick out the best stall for Shalazod by myself.”
“Shalazod?”
Dad nodded. “Mr. Pringle asked me today if we could board him while Diane is away at college. Diane likes the way that you handle horses. At first I had decided to say no because I figured that you’d spend all of your time with the horse and neglect everything else. But after what you did today, I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh, Dad!” Allie threw her arms around his neck. “It’s a dream come true! It’s almost as good as having a horse of my own.”
“Come on, let’s go pick out his stall. Shalazod will be here the day after tomorrow.”
Allie didn’t feel tired at all as she raced her dad to the stables.

When President Hinckley returned from the British Isles last fall, he told us of an interview he had with a member of the British Broadcasting Company Radio Services. The reporter asked President Hinckley, “How do you expect people to listen to these callow youth?” President Hinckley had to explain to some of us that callow meant immature, inexperienced, and lacking sophistication. Then he pointed out to this reporter that “people do receive them and listen to them. They are wholesome. They are bright, they are alert, they are … clean.”

And then at the general conference priesthood session held in October of last year, he said, speaking of the missionaries: “They are a miracle. … They speak out of their hearts, with personal conviction. Each is … an ambassador of the Lord Jesus Christ. Their power comes not of their learning in the things of the world. Their power comes of faith, and prayer, and humility.”

My wife, Kathy, and I have known a single sister, now in her mid-40s, who is gifted in her professional abilities and serves valiantly in her ward. She too has kept the laws of God. She wrote:

“I dreamed of the day I would be blessed with a husband and children. I am still waiting. At times, my situation brings feelings of being forgotten and alone, but I try to keep the focus off what I don’t have and instead on what I do have and how I can help others.

“Service to my extended family, in my ward, and in the temple has helped me. I am not forgotten or alone because I am part of, and we are all part of, a larger family.”

Counseling with my bishop. I came to appreciate my bishop’s guidance in helping me make a number of sound decisions. He checked on our family often and made sure I was all right and my family was well cared for. He was my support both temporally and spiritually.
One day the bishop called me into his office and discussed with me each of my children, one by one, to see how they were doing. We came up with a plan to make sure each of my boys received priesthood support through their quorum and auxiliary leaders. He also discussed my financial situation and made sure we had food in the house, and when Christmas came he checked again to be sure we had something to go under our tree.
Besides helping my children, he gave me priesthood blessings and helped me explore my new role as a single sister. What a comfort it was to know I had his backing.

Carolina L., age 11, from Venezuela, has grown up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and has always wanted to go to the Caracas Venezuela Temple. In March 2012 she visited the temple for the first time. It made her very happy.

The native people of New Zealand are called the M?ori. A marae is a special place where a M?ori family meets to remember their ancestors.
Jarom sat down in the grass in front of his nana’s marae. It was almost time for the family party to begin!
He looked up at the red carvings on the side of the building. “Mum, how do you say Nana’s name in sign language?” he asked. Jarom’s grandmother had been deaf. Sometimes they practiced sign language to remember her.
“Like this,” Mum said. She slowly signed the name with her hands. Jarom made the signs with his hands too. He loved learning about his family.
“I want to try!” Jarom’s cousin Kati sat down next to them. Mum signed the name again.
“Next month for my baptism, can we sing a song in sign language?” Jarom asked.
“Of course,” said Mum.
“What’s a baptism?” Kati asked.
Most of Jarom’s family were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Getting baptized is a special thing in my church,” Jarom said. “It’s when you make a promise to follow Jesus, and He promises to help you.”
“Cool,” said Kati.
“Would you like to come to my baptism?” Jarom asked.
“Sure!” Kati smiled. Then Jarom turned to his mum.
“Can we ask the rest of the cousins to come too? And my aunts and uncles?”
Mum nodded. “I think that’s a great idea.”
Jarom and Mum asked the rest of the family to come to the baptism. The aunts and uncles did not know much about baptism either. But they knew it was a special day for Jarom. “We will be there!” they said.
Weeks passed. Finally it was Jarom’s baptism day! When Jarom walked into the chapel, he smiled big. Every row was filled with his family members!
First Jarom’s dad gave a talk about baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost. He also talked about how important families are. “We are so happy for Jarom to be baptized today. And we are so happy to have our family with us!” he said. “What is the most important thing in the world?” he asked. “It is the people, the people, the people.”
Everyone smiled. It was a M?ori saying they all loved.
After Dad’s talk, it was Jarom and Mum’s turn. They sang a Primary song in sign language. It made Jarom feel close to his nana.
Then Jarom and Dad walked into the baptism font. As he stood in the water, Jarom looked up at all his family. Cousins, aunts, uncles. They were all there!
Jarom closed his eyes. He felt a warm, calm feeling. It felt like someone was giving him a big hug. He thought of his nana. He thought of his ancestors. He knew they were proud of him too.
Jarom changed into dry clothes. Then he gave each member of his family a hug. He was grateful for all of them. And he was grateful for his family members in heaven that he would get to meet someday. Jarom wanted to keep making good choices to make them proud.

To mention a few: His mother visits his hospital room each day and spends many hours with him. Other family members also show their love and support. Doctors and nurses at the hospital provide constant care. The Primary children of his stake raised $2,000 to buy a hydraulic lift to raise his wheelchair into his van. The Edmonton Singles Ward produced a musical comedy, and his four talented stepsisters presented a musical program to raise funds for a personal computer.

My boy graduated from high school at the age of 17 with plans to attend Brigham Young University-Idaho, 3,000 miles away from home before serving a full-time mission.
When he turned eighteen, he received his patriarchal blessing that mentioned the blessings that would come to him from serving a mission. Shortly after, my son shared with me that he had put in his mission papers. I cried. In part because I was proud that he had come to that decision on his own, but also because I was terrified. You see, Rayshawn was my only child and since my divorce, it was just the two of us.
Life intervened and some pretty trying things happened that tested my son’s faith. It is the hardest thing in the world to see one’s child struggle and not be able to do anything but encourage and pray unceasingly for them. My son turned eighteen, then 19, and by this time he was adamant that he would never serve a mission. He turned 20 and COVID hit. He came home from school because the isolation was doing things to his mental health.
By this time, he attended Church sporadically. He and I are the only members of the Church in our family, so I depended heavily on the temple prayer roll, personal and family prayer, and spending quality time together. We would sometimes read his patriarchal blessing together because I think the adversary works very hard at making the youth feel unworthy, unloved, unappreciated, worthless, and unable to do anything that presents a challenge or even anything that does not bring them instant gratification. We must help them see themselves as their Heavenly Father sees them and then living up to their potential will be much easier.
My little branch in the Caribbean is guided by a mission president and when a new president moved into our area he reached out and began counseling with my son via Zoom. By the time my son turned 22 years old he submitted his mission papers for the third time. Third time’s the charm, right? I should let you know that he taught himself Japanese because he really wanted to go to Japan.
Of course, our plans are not God’s plans, and he was called to the Trinidad Port of Spain Mission. He has been out on his mission for 10 months and he is zone leader. I have seen a mighty change in my son, and this young man who always thought the glass was half-empty is able to keep things positive even when confronted by someone with a knife in the streets while training a new missionary. He would later encourage other missionaries to always look for the positive perspective in similar situations.
As a mother, I still pray without ceasing over my baby boy, Elder Rayshawn N. Gibson, but I see that he has received His image in his countenance and the Light of Christ indeed shines in his eyes. Can a mother ask for anything more?

He is also working on a desalination project which is funded by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints working in collaboration with the government of Kiribati and the SUEZ Group.
“The mentorship provided by Elder and Sister Brock came full circle, as some years later they became project managers for the national desalination project,” says Ruth Cross, welfare and self-reliance manager for the Church in Kiribati and local coordinator for the desalination project.
“Eritai Kateibwi is a great example of hard work and determination built upon faith in God,” Cross continues. “Eritai’s deep sense of commitment propels the urgency of a shared vision to help people.”

On May 27, 2012, Elder James J. Hamula of the Seventy, Pacific Area President, organized the first stake in New Caledonia as 800 Church members looked on.
“Latter-day Saints and all of New Caledonia will be blessed as the gospel of Jesus Christ is taught and embraced by more and more people,” said Elder Hamula.
The new stake, the Noumea New Caledonia Stake, includes 2,000 members and eight meetinghouses.
“Our most important mission will be to preach the gospel and all its principles to the people of New Caledonia, which will bring happiness for them, for their families, and in their work environments and communities,” said Georgie Guidi, who was called to be the first president of the stake. Marc Mocellin and Thierry Gorodey were called as his counselors.

When I was 10, my mother moved us from New York to Utah, away from my father and the rest of our extended family. What was meant to be the two of us quickly became just me, as I rarely saw my mom due to her extensive work hours.
I grew accustomed to being alone. Although I was sometimes lonely, I often preferred solitude to my mom’s company. Behind closed doors, she was very controlling, and her emotions were unstable due to mental illness. I did my best to avoid upsetting her. She often had sporadic outbursts of anger where I endured harsh yelling and hurtful words.
During this time, church and seminary were places of refuge. I looked forward to those moments where I felt the Spirit, because they sustained me the rest of the week.
At times, my mom’s words challenged my faith. She was supposed to teach me what was right. But if I was doing what was right, then why was I suffering?
The Spirit reminded me that the gospel is perfect but people are imperfect. I couldn’t let her influence my thoughts and testimony of the gospel. Even so, I let my doubts get the better of me for a time.