Gospel Story Finder

In the mid-1950s my parents were picked at random to take part in a government household expenditure survey. Our completed form was returned for “obvious corrections”, as it was judged that three people could not live on such a small cash income (less than what social security would pay). But they didn’t know my parents and their ability to make something out of nothing (“summat out nowt”). They also didn’t know our neighbours, who were of higher economic standing, and who appreciated my parents’ honesty, integrity, compassion, and hard work, consequently putting work their way and providing much of our clothing needs.

Toby curled himself around his mother’s feet on the kitchen floor and began to purr. “Look, Mommy! I’m a kitty,” he said.
Mommy stirred sugar and salt into a big bowl of hot milk on the table and smiled. “Oh, you’re a kitty, are you?” She bent over and patted his head. Toby gave a contented meow. The yeast in a cup with warm water had risen to the top in a bubbly foam. Mommy tested the milk to make sure that it was cool enough, then poured the yeast and a small amount of oil into the bowl.
When Mommy pulled her feet out from under Toby and went to the cupboard for the sifter, Toby slithered up onto a kitchen chair. “Look, Mommy! I’m a snake,” he hissed. He weaved and bobbed as he watched her mix the fine brown flour into the liquid in the bowl. When the dough became stiff enough to handle, Mommy dumped it onto the clean, flour-dusted table and began to knead it with her hands. Toby loved to watch this part, and he flicked his tongue and rattled his tail as he watched.
Next, Mommy put the dough back into the bowl and covered it with a red-checkered cloth. “Time to feed the baby, Mr. Snake,” she told Toby, and they went into the baby’s room. Mommy sat in the rocking chair and softly hummed as she fed Toby’s baby sister.
Toby sat on the floor and practiced wiggling his nose. “Look, Mommy! I’m a mouse,” he squeaked, and the big rocking chair creaked back at him.
“Can you be a very quiet mouse so the baby can go to sleep?” Mommy asked.
Toby nodded and decided to become a mouse statue. He held very still and tried not to squeak or wiggle as Mommy gently laid the baby in the crib and tucked the soft blankets around her. Toby and Mommy tiptoed out of the room and quietly closed the door.
“Look, Mommy! I’m a bunny,” Toby said with a little hop. As he hopped into the kitchen, he noticed that the dough had rounded up over the top of the bowl and was peeking out from under the cloth. Mommy tipped the dough out onto the table and punched it down, working it between her hands and the table. Toby’s bunny ears pricked up, and he giggled as the bubbles in the dough popped and burped at him.
When the dough was smooth and round, Mommy cut it into four parts and shaped each part into a loaf. She put them into pans and set them on the stove to rise again.
Toby hopped into his bedroom, and when he came out again, he had his white blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “Look, Mommy! I’m an angel,” he said, pulling his angel robe more tightly around himself.
“It’s naptime for all sleepy little angels,” Mommy said. Toby reverently floated into his room and onto his bed. Mommy kissed his cheek and tucked his angel robe up under his chin. Toby laid his head on a fluffy cloud pillow and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, a wonderful smell was tickling his nose. He jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen. Four golden brown loaves of bread were sitting on racks on the kitchen table. Toby watched as Mommy sliced a big piece off the end of one loaf. She spread butter and honey over the warm slice of bread and handed it to Toby.
“Look, Mommy! I’m a little boy, now,” Toby said as he took a big bite. “I’m glad Heavenly Father sent you to be my little boy,” Mommy said.
Toby licked the melted honey and butter that ran down his fingers. “Me, too!” he said happily.

Shortly after waking up, I turn my computer on to check my e-mail. My morning continues, and just like putting on my watch, I slip my cell phone into my pocket to keep it handy all day in case someone calls or sends me a text message. Later, while eating my lunch, I check my e-mail again and spend time checking blogs and other Internet sites that help keep me in touch with friends and family. Throughout the day, when I have time, I check my e-mail and send and text messages to friends and family. Just before going to sleep, I check my e-mail one last time. Each day this pattern continues. I spend countless hours checking for messages.
One day I started to feel depressed because each time I checked for messages, there was nothing. I realized that I had started to not only crave receiving messages, but I was building my self-esteem based on how many messages I received throughout the day. I began fighting the feeling that no one cared about me. I then realized I was not checking for the right message.
I realized that I should spend more time checking for messages from my Father in Heaven. Each day He is waiting for a chance to remind me that I am His daughter and He loves me. He will help and guide me throughout my life, and He will never leave me alone. Those are messages truly worth receiving again and again.

My wife, Barbara, passed away almost four years ago. But because we entered the house of the Lord and were sealed as husband and wife by the power of the priesthood, we are bound together with our seven children, 43 grandchildren, and over 100 great-grandchildren, for all eternity. What a wonderful thing the temple is! Joy fills my heart because my family will be together forever. And your family can be too.

When missionaries for the Church arrived in Tennessee in 1834, they preached at a Campbellite church meeting and baptized 7 converts; another 24 were baptized later.

Burgon has a special big brother, Garrett, who has helped her throughout her life. As he explains it, “Early on it was making sure she got on and off the bus, making sure she got to class, and making sure there were no bullies on the playground.” Actually bullies were never really a problem. Garrett, who is four years older, has a group of friends that are also Burgon’s protectors. Garrett says that sometimes the worst thing for Burgon was having people feel sorry for her. She wrote a poem about it:
Most Painful of All
By Burgon Jensen
You never tried to hit me
With the shame of sticks and stones.
You never saw me bleeding;
You never broke my bones.
You never pushed or shoved me
Or called me hurtful names.
You never saw the tears that fell;
You never saw the pain.
But now I hope you hear me
For what I have to say.
You never did do any of these things,
But you did look the other way.
Don’t look the other way.

For Holly, doing well in her skating routines has brought a lot of satisfaction. “At the last Nationals, I had the best long program I have ever, ever skated. When I got off the ice, the crowd was great. I love the crowd. It was fun to hear them clapping for me. I had tears in my eyes. I was happy with myself.”

The operation continued on a small scale for several weeks. Lt. Halvorsen began dropping not only his own candy rations, but also those that were contributed by the other men in his company. One day he walked into headquarters and noticed a stack of mail addressed to “Uncle Wiggly Wings” and “Chocolate Flyer,” Tempelhof Air Base. Since he was unsure about how the air force would react, he quickly left but was called in by his commander a few days later.
“What have you been doing?” queried the senior officer. To Lt. Halvorsen’s surprise, his commander told him that a candy bar that had been dropped on the end of a runway had hit a German reporter in the head, and the story was now all over the front pages in Berlin.
“The German people loved it and that kept me from getting into trouble. My commander thanked me for the good idea and gave permission to continue the candy flying,” said Col. Halvorsen. The servicemen were by now contributing not only their candy rations but also their handkerchiefs. They soon ran out of handkerchiefs, and the men donated shirtsleeves to be used as parachutes. Finally they began attaching notes asking that the parachutes be returned to use again; most were.

When Ali’s eighth birthday drew near, she asked her parents if she could be baptized on her birthday—she was too excited to wait a day longer! They were able to schedule it, so on July 11, 2000, she was baptized a member of the Church. She was delighted to have her Grandma and Grandpa Balsor in attendance. “My grandparents were so touched by the Spirit that they cried,” she said. After the baptism, her mother felt inspired to give them a copy of the Book of Mormon.

Special education students and their buddies skate each Friday afternoon at the Bountiful Ice Rink, which is half a block from their school.

A buddy encouraged Trent to skate, and the ice immediately captivated him. As he progressed, Trent became a skating buddy to others. When one child was too timid to try, Trent said, “Come on. If I can do it, you can too.” He flashed his smile and soon had the boy gliding easily on the ice.

When I was called to Tahiti on my mission, I remember thinking, “What am I going to do there?”
I was a new member of the Church. I didn’t know a lot about the gospel. I hadn’t read the Book of Mormon cover to cover, though I knew it was true. And I would have to learn two languages: Tahitian and French.
I felt inadequate.
Thankfully, I had two things going for me: I knew how to work, and I knew how to obey. Knowing how to work came from my father; knowing how to obey came from the gospel.
So when I got to my mission, I worked hard and I obeyed. As a result, the Lord blessed me with some wonderful experiences, and He taught me to rely on the Spirit. In the process, He also taught me patience, because I was not the most patient missionary. If I had a senior companion who didn’t want to work hard, even though I was the junior companion, I would say, ‘C’mon, let’s go! We’ve got to work!’”
When I became a senior companion, I thought, “Finally, I’ve arrived. I can control the work now.”
But my mission president assigned me a companion who didn’t want to work. By that point in my mission, thankfully, I had learned enough that I knew I had to love my companion, be kind to him, and be patient with him. I knew I couldn’t push him.
One night in the little village of Fare on the island of Huahine, we were at an investigator’s home. Instead of teaching, my companion was playing a board game with a family member and I was sitting there alone, feeling that nobody wanted to listen to me. It was my first assignment as a senior companion, and I felt that I was failing.
As I was having these thoughts and feelings, an outpouring of the Spirit came into my heart. I knew I was not alone. That stayed with me the whole night—not just for a moment. When I awoke the next morning, the feeling was still with me. I knew Heavenly Father loved me. I knew He cared about me. I knew He was with me. Knowing that gave me the strength I needed.
That was a key experience for me. My mission president knew that I needed to have experiences that would humble me and help me recognize my dependence on the Spirit. From that point on I had an incredible mission.

Time was now running out for us on our visit to Jerusalem. We had followed the guide through the traditional hall of judgment, where the Master was beaten and sentenced to death by a tribunal that made mockery of justice. We followed the way of the cross supposedly to the place of crucifixion and the place of the holy sepulchre. But all of this, we felt, was in the wrong place. We felt none of the spiritual significance that we had felt at other places, for had not the Apostle Paul said, speaking of the crucifixion, “Wherefore Jesus also, that he might sanctify the people with his own blood, suffered without the gate”? (Heb. 13:12, italics added.)

In other words, he suffered to his death upon the cross for the sins of mankind, not within the gates of Jerusalem but outside the gates, and yet the guides were trying to make us think that his crucifixion took place inside the walls. And again, what we were seeing there did not agree with John’s description of the place where the crucifixion and burial took place, for John had said:

“Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid.
“There laid they Jesus therefore because of the Jews’ preparation day [the Passover]; for the sepulchre was nigh at hand.” (John 19:41–42.)

There was yet another place we had to visit, the garden tomb. It is owned by the Church of the United Brethren. Here our guide took us as though it were an afterthought, and as the woman guide with her little son led us through the garden, we saw a hill outside the gate of the walled city of Jerusalem, just a short way from where the hall of judgment had been inside the city walls. The garden was right close by, or “in the hill,” as John had said, and in it was a sepulchre hewn out of a rock, evidently done by someone who could afford the expense of excellent workmanship.
Something seemed to impress us as we stood there that this was the holiest place of all, and we fancied we could have witnessed the dramatic scene that took place there. That tomb has a mouth that could be sealed by a rolling stone, and there is a stone track built to guide a stone as it was rolled across the mouth of the tomb. The stone has now been removed, but the stone track is still there. Mary, after peering into the tomb, saw that He was missing, and she went out weeping bitterly.

“But Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping; and as she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre, “And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.
“And they say unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? She saith unto them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.
“And when she had thus said, she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus.
“Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them I ascend unto my Father, and your father; and to my God, and your God,” (John 20:11–14, 17.)

Linda S. Reeves
(15) Linda S. Reeves teaches her daughter how to obtain relief through the Savior’s Atonement after the daughter sees disturbing images on television.

That’s the great part of having a well-known father. The hard part is having everyone expect you to be as good as he was. President Bennett is very aware of the expectations being placed on his son. “They look to him to be a second me,” says President Bennett. “But I tell him that he shouldn’t worry about that. He should play for himself and not try to be someone else. Through his own training, he will become the kind of player he ought to be.”
President Bennett still plays with the club his son plays for, the top team in the honor division. At 42, Erroll is at the end of his career. He says he’s starting to feel his age. He takes pride in helping the younger players reach their potential. But on the playing field, he is not quite ready to relinquish everything to his son. With a teasing tone that doesn’t quite cover up the pride in his voice, he analyzes his son’s playing ability: “He’ll do. I’m not saying that he is better than his father, but he’ll do.”
Naea is following in his dad’s footsteps as far as soccer is concerned. But Naea is planning something a little different with his life. “I’d like to go on a mission,” says Naea. Erroll joined the Church after he was married and did not have the chance to serve a mission in his youth. Nothing would delight him more than to support his son as he serves a mission.
In a quiet moment, father and son sit together on the patio of their home as President Bennett points out his favorite scripture to his son—Alma 17:2–3 [Alma 17:2–3]. The scripture tells how the sons of Mosiah, after years of separation, met their friend Alma again. They had all been serving missions, and they were delighted to find they were all still strong in the faith and were still men of God.
It isn’t hard to imagine what President Bennett wishes for his son. Whether soccer—or something completely different—is in Naea’s future, the thing that would delight his father is to see him continue faithfully serving God.

Another example: Doesn’t it seem reasonable to hope that if we keep the commandments and are sealed in the temple, we will be blessed with a large, happy family with bright, obedient children, all of whom stay active in the Church, serve missions, sing in the ward choir, and volunteer to help clean the meetinghouse every Saturday morning?
I certainly hope that all of us will see this in our lives. But what if it doesn’t happen? Will we stay bound to the Savior regardless of circumstances—trusting Him and His timing?

Everyone on the Mountain View cross-country team will tell you their coach is the greatest. Coach Houle could easily be mistaken for one of the students, except for the constant five o’clock shadow he wears. He’s fit and without gray hair. And he’s not LDS.
“I feel like we are really good friends,” says Amy Jo Allen, a four-year high school all-American at Mountain View who is now a sophomore at BYU. She remembers the time Coach Houle helped her figure out how she could run the mile in under five minutes. “I didn’t believe his strategy would work. But he was right. By my senior year, I pretty much knew when he said something would work, it would. I never would have run if he hadn’t told me I could.”

A family from another country moved in across the street. They had two girls close to my age. They didn’t know much about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I became friends with them. I noticed that they swore a lot and did other things that weren’t good. Instead of walking away and not being their friend, I told them about Heavenly Father and the gospel, and said they shouldn’t swear or do bad things. I even invited them to church. Ever since then, they have been doing better and not swearing so much. They even started saying prayers at night. I am glad I can be a good missionary.
Natalie C., age 10, Idaho

It helps to talk. Several times a year during family home evening, one father organizes a time when members of the family anonymously write down on a piece of paper all the things that bother them. Members of the family then read them out loud and set goals to help overcome these problems. It can be a lot of fun to set goals together and to support one another as you complete them.

Civil government. This was another discussion group that Chauncey belonged to and provided focus for much of his reading. In part it was something of a debating society, organized along lines similar to the model United Nations of today. He notes at one point that he “gained Montana for my state to defend hereafter.” It is not surprising, since 1895 was the year of the constitutional convention prior to statehood in Utah, that these young people organized themselves as a mock constitutional convention. One of the hot topics of discussion was female suffrage, which Chauncey defended. An indication of how opinion was divided on this subject is found in his diary entry for February 28: “I quit at 7:00 and went to Civil Government where I upheld woman suffrage. The house was in disorder. The vote stood 21 to 21. The president decided in favor of woman suffrage.”

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948–2020), the former chief rabbi of the United Kingdom, once spoke of attending a football match at Highbury Stadium (home to Arsenal) with the archbishop of Canterbury. Arsenal was playing Manchester United. After the public address announcer noted the religious leaders’ presence, Rabbi Sacks said, “You could hear the buzz go around the ground that whichever way you played this particular theological wager, one way or another, that night, Arsenal had friends in high places. They couldn’t possibly lose.

“That night,” he added, “Arsenal went down to their worst home defeat in sixty-three years.”

The next day a British newspaper ran an article that said, no doubt in jest, that if the presence of these two prominent religious leaders couldn’t bring about a victory for Arsenal, then “does this not finally prove that God does not exist?” To which Rabbi Sacks rejoined, “It proves that God exists. It’s just that he supports Manchester United.”

Rabbi Sacks said this amusing story contains seeds of serious insight about the importance of interfaith and global harmony. “What if God is not only on my side, but also on the other side?” he asked. “What if God cares about the game, not just the team? … Our common humanity precedes our religious differences.”2