Gospel Story Finder

Thanksgiving wouldn’t have been Thanksgiving without a turkey in the oven. But a 14-pound (6-kg) turkey would be too much for me, so I invited several students who were from other countries and faraway states to join me. I wanted to share a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner, but I invited them to contribute. I asked each to bring a favorite dish from home. Our Thanksgiving dinner turned out to be a delightful and memorable meal—egg rolls and all.

Some years ago, Zulma—my wife, my better half, my best part—received some difficult news just two weeks before the wedding of one of our children. She had a tumor in her parotid gland, and it was growing rapidly. Her face began swelling, and she was to immediately undergo a delicate operation. Many thoughts ran through her mind and weighed on her heart. Was the tumor malignant? How would her body recover? Would her face become paralyzed? How intense would the pain be? Would her face be permanently scarred? Would the tumor return once removed? Would she be able to attend the wedding of our son? As she lay in the operating room, she felt broken.
In that very important moment, the Spirit whispered to her that she had to accept the will of the Father. She then decided to place her trust in God. She strongly felt that whatever the result, His will would be the best for her. Soon she drifted into surgical sleep.
Later, she wrote poetically in her diary: “On the surgeon’s table I bowed before Thee, and surrendering to Thy will, I fell asleep. I knew I could trust Thee, knowing that nothing bad can come from Thee.”
She found strength and comfort from surrendering her will to that of the Father. That day, God blessed her greatly.

At a critical moment in the battle of Waterloo, when everything depended on the steadiness of the soldiery, an anxious courier dashed into the presence of the Duke of Wellington, announcing that unless the troops were immediately relieved or withdrawn, they must yield before the impending assault of the French army. The Duke replied, “Stand firm!”
“But we shall perish!” remonstrated the officer.
“Stand firm!” again was the answer of the ironhearted Duke.
“You’ll find us there!” rejoined the courier, as he galloped away.
And, of course, the British were victorious that day as a result of such loyalty and determination (see Walter Baxendale, ed., Dictionary of Anecdote, Incident, Illustrative Fact, New York: Thomas Whittaker, 1889, p. 225).

When I was young and preparing for a mission, my mom invited me to go to a continuing education night at the church. The topic was Joseph Smith. Of course, I had a lot going on, and I didn’t really want to go.
But she talked me into it, and I’m glad she did.
I can remember sitting in the back row of the chapel as the instructor began teaching about the Prophet Joseph Smith. I’ll never forget it. It was a riveting moment of clarity. I was completely tuned in to the story. As it culminated and the teacher bore testimony, I knew that I knew it was true. I just knew it. But more importantly, I realized that I’d always known it was true; this was just the first time I’d realized it.

Let me relate an experience regarding these discussions.
I remember so well when a matter was being discussed where different members of the Twelve had differing views and expressed them freely. When President McKay summed up the discussion and said, “This is what I think we should do,” I turned to the brother next to me and said:
“Isn’t it wonderful to see how he always comes up with the right answer, and we all seem to feel that it is the right answer?”
My colleague turned to me and said, “You are listening to a prophet of God.” This is how we know that any decision that is made becomes the unanimous decision of the group, regardless of the feeling of any member prior to the decision.

The origin of the celebration, however, is a bit more serious and dates back to the seventeenth century. Because King James I was disliked by some people for his religious intolerance, a plot was formed to blow up the House of Parliament when he and his chief ministers would be there. The man in charge of igniting more than twenty barrels of gunpowder in the cellar was Guy Fawkes. Although plans were carefully made, the plot was discovered, and on November 4, 1605, Fawkes was arrested.
Even though he was severely punished to try to make him reveal the names of his coconspirators, Fawkes refused and was subsequently convicted and later executed opposite the parliament building on January 31, 1606. The discovery of the Gunpowder Plot, which saved the King’s life and left the House of Parliament standing, is still celebrated each November 5, the day the House of Parliament was to have been blown up.

A story written by Karen Nolen, which appeared in the New Era in 1974, tells of a Benjamin Landart who, in 1888, was 15 years old and an accomplished violinist. Living on a farm in northern Utah with his mother and seven brothers and sisters was sometimes a challenge to Benjamin, as he had less time than he would have liked to play his violin. Occasionally his mother would lock up the violin until he had his farm chores done, so great was the temptation for Benjamin to play it.
In late 1892 Benjamin was asked to travel to Salt Lake to audition for a place with the territorial orchestra. For him, this was a dream come true. After several weeks of practicing and prayers, he went to Salt Lake in March of 1893 for the much-anticipated audition. When he heard Benjamin play, the conductor, a Mr. Dean, said Benjamin was the most accomplished violinist he had heard west of Denver. Benjamin was told to report to Denver for rehearsals in the fall and learned that he would be earning enough to keep himself, with some left over to send home.
A week after Benjamin received this good news, however, his bishop called him into his office and asked if Benjamin couldn’t put off playing with the orchestra for a couple of years. The bishop told Benjamin that before he started earning money, there was something he owed the Lord. The bishop then asked Benjamin to accept a mission call.
Benjamin felt that giving up his chance to play in the territorial orchestra would be almost more than he could bear, but he also knew what his decision should be. He promised the bishop that if there were any way to raise the money for him to serve, he would accept the call.
When Benjamin told his mother about the call, she was overjoyed. She told him that his father had always wanted to serve a mission but had been killed before that opportunity had come to him. However, when they discussed the financing of the mission, her face clouded over. Benjamin told her he would not allow her to sell any more of their land. She studied his face for a moment and then said, “Ben, there is a way we can raise the money. This family [has] one thing that is of great enough value to send you on your mission. You will have to sell your violin.”
Six days later, on March 23, 1893, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “I awoke this morning and took my violin from its case. All day long I played the music I love. In the evening when the light grew dim and I could see to play no longer, I placed the instrument in its case. It will be enough. Tomorrow I leave [for my mission].”
Forty-five years later, on June 23, 1938, Benjamin wrote in his journal: “The greatest decision I ever made in my life was to give up something I dearly loved to the God I loved even more. He has never forgotten me for it.”

Like Boyembé, Léonce L’or Tsiba felt prompted to sign up for the self-reliance class when it was announced. Her father had refused to support her after her conversion, and she’d gone without food and shelter for a time before getting help from her bishop. Through the course, Tsiba gained greater temporal and spiritual autonomy. “I learned to put God first in my life,” Tsiba reflected later. “I also committed to pay my tithing, to serve my family, friends, and my community.”
Near the end of the course, one of Tsiba’s friends told her about a job posting and suggested that she apply. Fear and personal doubts made Tsiba hesitant. Nevertheless, with the help of her self-reliance instructor, her bishop, and other class members, Tsiba revised her résumé, practiced interviewing, and slowly gained confidence. When she submitted her application, she learned the job opening had already been closed, but she insisted on leaving her application and résumé anyway. Two weeks later, Tsiba was called in for an interview and then hired for the job. She later said, “That experience taught me that God will provide for us; He knows our need. He only asks us to have faith in Him.”

“My brother Brady and I didn’t have a bad relationship. The problem was, we didn’t have a relationship at all. Involvement in school and with my friends meant everything. I never spent any time with him. When I heard about the experiment, I immediately thought of Brady, and after praying about it I was sure he was the one. At first it was a chore; then it became a little easier; then I realized he is fun! I just had to make the first move. Now he comes to invite me to do things with him.”—Brittany Brammer

Elder Pratt’s two former companions traveled on to Tahiti, where their teaching met with far less success. After a few months, Elder Rogers traveled west to the leeward islands and Elder Grouard sailed to the island of Anaa in the Tuamotus. Elder Rogers again met with little success and much opposition. When rumors finally reached him of the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith, he began to fear for the safety of his family in Nauvoo, and he returned to America. He died during the exodus from Nauvoo.

Fourteen-year-old Clara Lacy and her niece could have been killed.
“I was taking her to school in a Blackstone neighborhood,” Clara says. “This boy was throwing gang signs across the street, and some other boys were throwing them back. He ran right in front of me just as they started shooting at him. He got shot in the leg. I almost got shot. Then another boy got a gun he’d hidden in a garbage can in the alley and started shooting back at the boys across the street. I put my little niece on my back and started running.”
Unfortunately, Clara’s experience isn’t that unusual for a teenager growing up in Chicago’s inner city. It is a place of danger, drugs, violence, and fear. Each day is filled with uncertainty. There are few incentives to do well in school. Unwed parents and nonfunctioning families are commonplace. Everyone seems to have been the victim of, or knows someone close who has been the victim of, serious crime.
Of course it’s not that bad everywhere all the time. There are quiet neighborhoods. There are good friends, strong families, and honest efforts to improve. Life goes on. But it is often life in the shadow of fear, the sort of shadow that can make the future seem bleak.
If only someone could open a window and let Clara glimpse a better life. Maybe then hope could grow in place of despair.
Such a window is being opened, thanks to a nonprofit foundation called the Inner City Youth Charitable Trust. Each summer, two groups of 20 boys each, one ages 9–11 and one ages 12–14, attend a three-week camp called Summer Quarters. Facilities are located in farm country 50 miles north of Chicago, and students from Ricks College of Rexburg, Idaho, serve as counselors. Twenty girls ages 12–18 attend the three-week Lucy Mack Smith Summer Jam—Yes I Can day camp, held at the Hyde Park/Ryan Woods chapel but with field trips to various locations. Again, students from Ricks’ Urban Discovery program serve as counselors.
The inner-city youth participants are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or relatives or friends of members. Clara, for example, is a member of the Ryan Woods Ward, Chicago Heights Illinois Stake. Each participant must be interviewed and recommended by a bishop and agree to abide by Church standards. A number of the inner-city youth are repeat participants, having benefitted from the program several summers in a row.
The trust (which was founded five years ago by Church members but involves other business and professional people) also sponsors Career Adventure, a program for about 20 inner-city youth ages 14–18. It includes a one-week exploration of career opportunities and tours of businesses with student counselors who have come to Chicago from Brigham Young University. And it teams up participants with mentors who will help the teenagers acquire job skills and employment opportunities.
The overall program isn’t huge. But it is an effort that is teaching a lot to both streetwise kids and previously sheltered students.
“I think the whole purpose is for the boys to realize that there’s more in life than the violence and the gangs,” says Summer Quarters counselor Hans “Maddy” Madsen. “It’s also to help us as counselors to realize that there are people in need.

“It’s hard for me to imagine the kind of society where you never feel safe,” he continues. “I come from a stable home with both parents. Most of these kids only have one parent or they’re living with their grandma or a cousin or someone else.

“One boy told me of at least 25 incidents where he had seen people shot, stabbed, or killed. Those were just the ones he could remember at the moment. Another boy had his cousin die in his arms.”
Statistics show that 80 percent of inner-city children have witnessed violence first-hand by the time they are four years old, according to statistics the Ricks students receive in their sociology classes.
“They are very mature in some ways,” Maddy says. “But they have witnessed so much that they’re calloused. They’re not used to trusting people. That’s one of the things we try to teach them—that there are people you can trust.”
That trust is built in a variety of ways. Boys and counselors go on bike rides or go swimming together. With adult volunteers from the Buffalo Grove and Naperville Illinois Stakes, they work on school skills, like math and spelling. They sing songs and put on skits. They visit a dairy and a toolbox manufacturer. The boys work one-on-one with counselors on simple projects, like building model planes and toy boats.
“Some of the things we do at camp, like making boats and planes, are good things to do at home when you’re alone or bored and there’s nothing to do,” says Chris Woods, 12, who is investigating the Church. “They’ll keep us off the streets, keep us from getting physical and threatening somebody.”
The girls’ field trips take them to a construction site, a radio station, a bank, and a hotel. During workshops at the chapel, they learn to play songs on the piano and lead music; act in plays; write journals; and sew quilts, pillows, and curtains. They play sports and rehearse for job interviews.
“We learn a lot of practical things,” says Qawi Wafford, 12, of the Chicago First Ward, Wilmette Illinois Stake.
And whether it’s at the chapel in town or at camp in the country, there is also a spiritual level of trust that’s growing.
“Because of the gospel we feel a kinship,” says Elisa McConkie, a Summer Jam counselor. “But a lot of them don’t understand what the Church is all about and what it has to offer them. So we try to explain that. And a lot of them are lacking love, which is something we as counselors can give. We give them moral support, verbal support, a lot of guidance. And we try to encourage them to think about their future, things like, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’”
“Our lives are centered around eternity, getting married, raising a family, getting an education,” says Summer Jam Counselor Brandi McCoy. “A lot of those ideas are foreign to them. They never think about tomorrow, just today. Making it past the eighth grade is a monumental feat for some of them. One of the girls asked me what it was like to have a peaceful night’s rest, because every night in the city she hears gunshots and sirens. Another asked me if I was always scared in high school, if I’d ever had to run home from school, or if anyone had tried to beat me up.

“Too many times people forget they have souls,” she continues. “But when we were here singing ‘Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,’ I saw the light shining in their eyes. And when we talk about the temple and about eternal families, even though you can tell it’s hard for them to grasp, you can tell it’s something they want to live for.”
“At Summer Quarters we read the scriptures every night,” explains counselor Dan Kolilis. “Just last night we went out to the tents where the boys stay and had pop and chips with them. Then we read in the Book of Mormon about Jesus Christ blessing the little children. All of this year’s male counselors are returned missionaries, so we talked about our missions. Then we read the verse that says: ‘Therefore, go ye unto your homes, and ponder upon the things which I have said, and ask of the Father, in my name, that ye may understand’ (3 Ne. 17:3). It was the last night of the camp. We wanted them to go home, as we will go home, to think about how, with the gospel in their lives, the Lord will help them and guide them.”
The inner-city youth, like a lot of teens, don’t talk at length about what they feel in their hearts. Ask about Summer Jam or Summer Quarters, and their phrases are mainly short ones, like, “I feel safe here” or “I wish we could stay forever.”
But they do say they hope their counselors will write to them. And they do have a very hard time, after the farewell picnic, letting go of the hugs and saying good-bye.
The programs are short, and the inner city is strong. But through an open window comes air and light, enough to keep hope alive.

Forty-five Scouts and eight leaders from the La Verne California Stake hiked a 15-mile segment of the Mormon Battalion Trail.
At the first night’s campfire, the history of the battalion was retold. The following morning, the Scouts began their hike up a canyon. Unlike the scenery the battalion members found, these modern Scouts had to make their way across freeways and train tracks. Dan Brown, 12, whose great-great-grandfather was a member of the Mormon Battalion, said, “I learned how miserable the march must have been. I only hiked 15 miles. They traveled over 2,000.”
The La Verne Stake Scouts hiked another segment of the trail near San Diego last year. They hope to hike additional sections of the trail in coming years.

My father had an idea that his boys ought to learn to work, in the summer as well as in the winter, and so he bought a five-acre farm which eventually grew to include more than thirty acres. We lived there in the summer and returned to the city when school started.

We had a large orchard, and the trees had to be pruned each spring. Father took us to pruning demonstrations put on by experts from the agriculture college. We learned a great truth—that you could pretty well determine the kind of fruit you would pick in September by the way you pruned in February. The idea was to space the branches so that the fruit would be exposed to sunlight and air. Further, we learned that new, young wood produces the best fruit. That has had many applications in life.

I close by reading a simple yet profound letter that reflects our love for our prophet and his leadership:
“Dear President Monson,
“Five years ago, President Hinckley was sustained as prophet, seer, and revelator. For me that was an extraordinary occasion which had to do with your calling for the sustaining vote of the Church.
“On that particular morning, I needed to haul hay for my livestock. I was enjoying conference on my truck radio. I had picked up the hay, backed into the barn, and was throwing down hay bales from the back of the truck. When you called for the brethren of the priesthood, ‘wherever you are,’ to prepare to sustain the prophet, I wondered if you meant me. I wondered if the Lord would be offended because I was sweaty and covered with dust. But I took you at your word and climbed down from the truck.
“I shall never forget standing alone in the barn, hat in hand, with sweat running down my face, with arm to the square to sustain President Hinckley. Tears mixed with sweat as I sat for several minutes contemplating this sacred occasion.”
He continued:
“In our lives, we place ourselves at particular places when events of large consequence occur. That has happened to me, but none more spiritual or tender or memorable than that morning in the barn with only cows and a roan horse looking on.
“Sincerely,
“Clark Cederlof”

When the time came for me to serve a mission, I felt a desire to bless the people in neighboring Uganda with the gospel, but I also wanted to teach the people in Zimbabwe, home of the missionary who had baptized me.
I prayed, but in my heart, I saw no way I could serve in two countries located far apart. Soon, I received my call to Zimbabwe, but while I was in the missionary training center in Johannesburg, South Africa, my visa was delayed. I was redirected to Uganda, where I served for eight months before receiving visa clearance for Zimbabwe.
“The Lord has His mysterious ways,” I thought to myself.

Last spring my husband and I attended a soccer game of our four-year-old grandson. You could feel the excitement on the field as the players ran in every direction chasing the soccer ball. When the final whistle blew, the players were unaware of who won or who lost. They had simply played the game. The coaches directed the players to shake hands with the opposing team members. Then I observed something quite remarkable. The coach called for a victory tunnel. All the parents, grandparents, and any spectators who had come to observe the game stood up and formed two lines facing each other, and by raising their arms they formed an arch. The children squealed as they ran through the cheering adults and down the path formed by the spectators. Soon the children from the opposing team joined the fun as all the players—the winners and the losers—were cheered on by the adults as they ran the path of the victory tunnel.

When I was seven years old, our family tragically lost my younger brother, who was only six years old. It was a very hard time for my parents; the pain of losing such a young son was immense to them and perhaps very unfair. Instead of blaming someone or something, I saw my parents seek comfort in the gospel and in the Savior. This helped them to develop and to increase their faith in Christ and in the hope that one day they could see their beloved son again. That faith and hope which they developed over the years helped them bear the loss of their son with courage. The temple was one of the keys for them to gain enough understanding and strength to cope with this difficult physical separation. Because they had received the sacred ordinances of the temple many years before, these covenants gave them hope that they could one day rise up as parents and children again.

David loved to sit on the front porch and think, and that was exactly what he was doing one warm summer day.
“I want to be very, very smart like my dad,” David said to the postman who delivered the mail. “I’m going to read and learn everything!”
The postman smiled. “That’s a very good ambition,” he said, “but that will take a lot of time and study.”
“Ambition,” David repeated to himself after the mailman left. “That’s a big word. The mailman is smart and uses big words.”
This gave David an idea. “That’s what I’ll do to become smart. I’ll learn smart-sounding words.”
Just then David’s little brother, Bobby, came around the corner of the house carrying a baseball and mitt. “Hi, David. What are you doing?” he called.
“Thinking,” David answered.
“What about?” Bobby asked.
David sat up tall and answered, “Ambition.”
“Ambition?” Bobby looked puzzled.
“Yes, ambition. Everyone has to have it you know,” David said with authority.
“Oh, but how do you think about it?” Bobby wanted to know.
“I’m thinking about how smart I am when I use ambition,” David said proudly.
“I’d rather play ball,” Bobby said as he ran off to do just that.
David went into the house and took the dictionary from the bookshelf. He put it on the table, closed his eyes, opened the book, and then with his finger he pointed to a word.
“There,” he said to himself. “This is where I’ll start.”
He looked at the word his finger had found. “Ex—ex—a exa—I can’t even say it!” David exclaimed. “How can I become smart if I can’t even say smart words?”
“What’s that, David? Is something wrong?” his mother asked as she came into the room.
“It’s this word,” David replied. “What does e-x-a-s-p-e-r-a-t-i-o-n spell?”
“Exasperation,” she answered.
“Exasperation,” David repeated with a smile. “That’s a good, big, smart word.”
“It certainly is,” Mother agreed.
David felt better now. He walked back outside and down the street. Mrs. Smith was sweeping her sidewalk and stopped to say hello to David.
“Hi, Mrs. Smith,” he answered.
He held his head high and tried to look very smart as he said, “Exasperation. Ambition.”
Mrs. Smith looked puzzled. “Oh my, David,” she murmured. “How perplexing!”
“Per-plex-ing. Perplexing,” David repeated after her. “That’s a very smart word to remember.” He went on down the street until he came to the corner grocery store. Mr. Packer, the grocer, was David’s friend.
I’ll show Mr. Packer how smart I have become, he thought.
David walked into the store and stood very tall in front of the counter and said, “Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.”
“What?” Mr. Packer asked rubbing his head in a curious way.
“Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.” David repeated the words loud and clear.
“My, my,” was all Mr. Packer could say.
David left the store and hurried home. “Oh, Mother,” he said. “I have become so smart. And it didn’t take much time at all!”
“Smart?” Mother wondered.
David stood very proud and tall, and said, “Yes, just listen to me. Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.”
“What?” Mother asked.
“Exasperation. Ambition. Perplexing.”
“But it doesn’t mean anything,” Mother said.
“It has to mean something?” David questioned.
“Yes, or no one will understand you. Do you know what those words mean?”
David hadn’t thought about that. He slumped down in a chair feeling quite silly while his mother explained.
“Ambition is a strong desire to achieve. Exasperation is a feeling you get when you are irritated or annoyed. And perplexing is when you are confused or puzzled.”
“Those words mean all that? I guess I’ll never be smart,” David sighed.
“Yes, you will. But you have to learn the meaning of words before you can use them,” she replied.
“That’s a lot of work!” David said.
“It certainly is,” Mother agreed.
David thought very hard. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll just have to do it. I’ll study and work until I learn the meanings too.”
Mother smiled and said, “Now that’s the smart thing to do!”

Youth in the Granada Hills California Stake took a different approach on the Church Sesquicentennial theme “Faith in Every Footstep” for their youth conference this year. Instead of taking steps of their own, they helped mentally handicapped children run, jump, and walk to the finish line at the Los Angeles Special Olympics.
The youth worked for nine hours, beginning at 6:00 A.M., but their good attitudes never wavered. “It was the best youth conference we have ever had because we’ve been able to give service,” said one participant.

In January 2018, we laid to rest a giant of a man, a prophet of God—President Thomas S. Monson. No words can do justice to the magnitude and magnificence of his life. I will forever cherish our friendship with gratitude for what he taught me. Now, we must look forward to the future with complete faith in our Lord, Jesus Christ, whose Church this is.
On January 14, all of the living Apostles met in the upper room of the Salt Lake Temple. There, they made a unanimous decision, first, to reorganize the First Presidency now; and second, that I serve as President of the Church. Words are inadequate to tell you what it felt like to have my Brethren—Brethren who hold all the priesthood keys restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith in this dispensation—place their hands upon my head to ordain and set me apart as President of the Church. It was a sacred and humbling experience.
It then became my responsibility to discern whom the Lord had prepared to be my counselors. How could I choose only two of the twelve other Apostles, each of whom I love so dearly? I’m deeply grateful to the Lord for answering my fervent prayers. I am very thankful that President Dallin Harris Oaks and President Henry Bennion Eyring are willing to serve with me as First and Second Counselors, respectively.