Gospel Story Finder

Dad leaned back in his chair. “Do you remember a few years ago, when our family went backpacking in the mountains?”
“I think so.”
“You were very little then, but you wanted to carry your own pack. I’m afraid that it got pretty heavy long before we reached our campsite.”
“I remember now.” Katie’s face brightened. “I was tired, so we sat down to rest beside a stream. And then, when we started out again, you walked right beside me. The pack seemed much lighter then, and I was able to carry it all the way to camp.”
“Did you know that I was helping you?” Dad asked quietly.
“You mean by walking beside me and singing with me?”
“Yes. And also as we walked side by side, I was reaching out my hand and lifting the pack up off your back.”
“You were?” Katie looked at him in surprise. “And I didn’t even know it. No wonder my pack felt lighter—it was!”

Photograph courtesy of Alessandro E.
Location: Amazonas, Brazil
Experience: Missionary work
Follows promptings of the Holy Ghost. Shows determination and dedication in doing his duty.
This young man did his duty so well that, partly as a result of his service, six people joined the Church, including a couple that got married.
Alessandro E., a newly called deacons quorum president, wanted to increase the number of members in his quorum. He tried to activate some of the deacons but without much success. He tried sharing the gospel with his friends at school but also without success.
So Alessandro sought his mother’s advice. “She said I should fast and pray,” he explains. So he did, and he felt a prompting from the Holy Ghost to go back to one of his friends from school. “This time,” Alessandro says, “he agreed to come to a sacrament meeting.”
Missionaries began teaching the friend, and soon he and his brother were baptized, along with two cousins. The friend’s parents initially showed no interest in the Church, even though they permitted the discussions to take place in their home and approved when their children sought permission to be baptized. But after some discussions and visits they changed their minds. They believed what they were learning, gained their own testimonies, and wanted to become Latter-day Saints. However, before they could join the Church they had to be married first. Soon they were, and soon after that they were baptized.
That was a happy day for many people, including Alessandro. As president of his deacons quorum, he now had brought new members into the quorum and into the ward. He had learned that a good leader seeks counsel from those he trusts, that Heavenly Father answers prayers, and that it is important to follow promptings.

“In church I’ve learned to have faith in God,” Maria says. One day she had a test, so she prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ for help. When she got a good grade, she felt like Heavenly Father had helped her.

The Eight Witnesses: Christian Whitmer, Jacob Whitmer, Peter Whitmer Jr., John Whitmer, Hiram Page, Joseph Smith Sr., Hyrum Smith, and Samuel H. Smith. Joseph Smith showed them the plates and let them hold them.2

Historical sources reveal that from the moment Joseph obtained the plates in 1827, attempts were made to steal them from him. He noted that “the most strenuous exertions were used to get [the plates] from [him]” and that “every stratagem that could be invented was resorted to for that purpose.” Eventually Joseph and Emma were forced to move from Manchester, New York, to Harmony, Pennsylvania, to find a safe place to proceed with the work of translation, away from mobs and individuals who wanted to steal the plates. As one historian notes: “Thus ended the first difficult phase of Joseph’s guardianship over the plates. … Yet the record was safe, and in his struggles to preserve them Joseph no doubt had learned much about the ways of God and man that would serve him well in the time to come.”

The greatness of Willard Richard’s heart was manifest just before the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Joseph said to Brother Richards, “If we go into the cell, will you go in with us?”
Brother Richards answered, “Brother Joseph you did not ask me to cross the river with you—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think that I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for treason, I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free.”
The Prophet said, “You cannot.”
Willard Richards replied, “I will” (History of the Church, 6:616).

On one occasion, I was to interview a man on behalf of the First Presidency for the restoration of his priesthood and temple blessings.

After his marriage in the holy temple, and after having three wonderful children, the man was unfaithful to his wife and his sacred covenants. A single woman became pregnant and wanted an abortion.

The husband’s saintly wife pleaded with the woman to have the baby and promised that she would raise the child, once he was born, with her own children.

The single woman thoughtfully agreed not to end the pregnancy.

It had now been 10 years. The humble sister sitting in front of me loved the boy as her own and told me of her husband’s efforts to make amends and to love and care for her and the family. The father wept as she spoke.

How could this noble woman of God take a child as her own who could be a daily reminder of the unfaithfulness of her husband? How? Because she found strength through Jesus Christ and she believed in the sacredness of life, the holiness of life. She knew the unborn child was a child of God, innocent and pure.

Elder Eyring: In time, if you truly begin to feast upon the scriptures, you will find that they become a part of you. I remember that with Elder Bruce R. McConkie (1915–85) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who was as familiar with the scriptures as anyone I know. I would sometimes listen to him and say to myself, “Now is he quoting the scriptures, or are those his own words?”

We were on our way to Mammoth Mountain, California, where we planned to enjoy a wonderful week of ski racing and fun in the snow. Just as we were entering Tonapah, Nevada, the driver of the car asked me to take the wheel for a minute. Three of us were in the car. The third member in the back seat grabbed the wheel in a joking manner, turning it almost completely around. The car spun from side to side on the road, finally going off a 10- or 15-foot ledge. I was thrown from the car after it left the road; seconds later the big Travelall rolled over me.
As I hit the ground I turned my head. I don’t know why I did, but I just did. This saved my face from being crushed into the ground. Then I blacked out, but not for long. I remember getting to my feet and standing a few seconds until my friends laid me back on the ground. The only thing I was really worried about was having a broken back because it hurt. It was hard to breathe. I remember thinking that when people die they usually say, “Well, this is it.” I didn’t think “this is it,” but I was sure that dirt and gravel were in my lungs because it was so hard for me to breathe.
I was taken to the tiny Nye Valley hospital where the only patient they had that day was me. Luckily there was a doctor on call. He and the staff cleaned me off, sewed up my cuts, and told me I had a broken back. I was glad it was nothing more serious but felt terrible about not going on to Mammoth Mountain.
Shortly after, two elders who were passing the hospital came in and gave me a blessing. No one had told them to come. They were just going by the hospital and decided to come in and see if they were needed. The two just came up to me and asked me if I wanted a blessing. They didn’t know then, and neither did I, but I had a ruptured spleen that immediately repaired itself or I would have bled to death. The internist who cared for me later said, “This is a very unusual occurrence—a spleen healing itself. In fact, it is almost unheard of.”
The next morning a doctor from my hometown, Provo, Utah, flew in to see me. As soon as he looked at me, he started to give orders, and I was out of that hospital and into a plane in a hurry.
I don’t remember much about the plane ride, but the doctor told me it was a nightmare. He said I blacked out completely two times. The pilot wanted to fly above the storm, but the doctor told him to stay at a lower altitude to keep me alive—the plane did not have a supply of oxygen. An ambulance, oxygen, and my dad were waiting at the Provo airport.
After three weeks of pain, discomfort, discouragement, no food—it wouldn’t stay down—continuous intravenous feeding, being rushed to intensive care and onto an ice bed several times to reduce an extremely high fever, several blood transfusions, and having my back and side punctured to remove the fluid from my lungs, the doctors decided that the only thing left to do was to operate and remove one of my kidneys to try to stop the infection and bleeding.
Members of our ward and many of our friends and relatives fasted and prayed for my recovery. I had many wonderful blessings from my father and the bishop. We all had faith that everything would be all right. I made it through the operation, but my heart was weakened. We also wondered if the remaining kidney, which was also diseased, would take over.
The next week was spent in the intensive care unit with a heart monitor registering every beat. At one time the monitor stopped. I told the nurses to call my mother and tell her that the machine said I had just died and ask if she wanted to come and see me.
I can’t tell you how often and how sincerely I prayed for little things—that the nurse would find a vein that wouldn’t collapse, that I could swallow something that would stay in my stomach, or that my fever would go down without my having to be packed in ice again. These prayers and many others were always answered.
The doctors, three specialists, told me later what was wrong. Besides a broken back, I had three broken ribs that had punctured my lungs. The pressure, the fluid in my lungs, and infection, as well as drugs they had to give me, had injured my heart. I also had had a ruptured spleen, which was healed after my blessing from the elders. One badly diseased kidney was removed, and the other one had infection in it. When my folks asked the operating physician if I would make it, he just shook his head and said, “We can hope. His insides were a mess.” He and the other specialists told us later that by all medical standards I should have died soon after the accident and many times since.
I stayed in the hospital about two months. I lost 50 pounds and was so dizzy that I couldn’t walk without help. I was to have stayed at home and been taught by a tutor. However, I was determined to go to school. With the help of a good friend I was able to do it.
Within a few months the doctors said I was completely well. In fact, after a final examination by the internist, he brought out a large assortment of charts and papers, held them up in the air, and said, “What can I say? You are okay. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Be careful about contact sports—you have only one kidney—but many, many people live to a very old age with only one kidney. In fact, some people are born with only one. Come back and see me in a year.”
I am grateful to be alive and well. I can do anything I ever did before—ski, play tennis, play basketball, exercise. I am so thankful for dedicated doctors (I hope to be one some day), wonderful, patient nurses, and for well-equipped hospitals; but most of all I thank my Father in heaven for his many blessings to us. I’m especially grateful to be serving the Lord in the Canada Calgary Mission. I know our Father loves and guides us and that he has a mission for each of his children. He does preserve lives for a purpose greater than we realize.

Elder Gérald Caussé (France): In our family we have decided that Christmas is not just about having fun together, but it is also about focusing on Christ and serving others. About 10 years ago we formed a choir of family members. We went to hospitals and retirement homes and sang Christmas songs. At first it was a small group. We had babies in our arms and in strollers. But now these babies have grown up, and they are seasoned choristers. We have a 44-person choir sharing not only traditional French carols but also Church hymns, and we find great success. After singing, the children go and distribute to the sick or elderly little presents we have prepared as a family. We try to have time with each person, talking about the true meaning of Christmas and also listening to him or her. Everyone always has a lot to share.
Our visits are special occasions to remember what we know about being a Christian and bearing the name of Christ. Christmas is a good reminder of how we need to behave during the whole year.

Thank you for the wonderful October issue of the New Era. For almost two years I have been able to utilize the New Era in many ways as a missionary. I especially enjoyed the story “Onward Christian Soldiers.” The Mormonad really impressed a popcorn-loving contact. She read the entire issue. Thank you, Jeanie Carnahan and Lonnie Lonczyna.
Elder Eldon McMurraySouth Dakota Rapid City Mission

When our oldest daughter, Wendi, was age five, she attended kindergarten class each morning. One day I sent her to school, then readied our two younger children to go shopping. I felt rushed because I wanted to finish shopping in time to pick up Wendi from school. So with my shopping list in one hand and my two younger children in the other, I set off for the store.
About 20 minutes later a clear thought interrupted me: Darlene, go check on Wendi. I thought, How silly! Wendi is fine at school. I dismissed the thought and went about my shopping. A short time later the thought came back again. Darlene, go check on Wendi. The thought came so clearly I stopped in the middle of a grocery store aisle.
Looking at my shopping list and at my two young children, who would not be patient much longer, I reasoned to myself, This is silly! I’m sure Wendi is fine. I continued down the aisle, but the words came forcefully yet again: Darlene, go check on Wendi!
I told a clerk I would be back for my groceries and rushed from the store. As we left, I noticed a severe thunderstorm had come up. Wendi was terrified of thunderstorms, but I knew she was safe at school. Nevertheless, I began to worry that something terrible might have happened. I hurried to the school. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and even the storm was passing. I thought perhaps I wouldn’t go inside after all. But after making the effort to get there, I decided I should at least walk to the classroom and reassure myself that all was well.
I turned the corner to Wendi’s classroom and saw the door was open and Wendi was standing in the doorway. How odd! Why wasn’t she at her desk? As I approached she smiled. I didn’t know what to say, so I just hugged her.
“Mommy, I knew you’d come!” she said.
With that, her teacher came over and said, “How did you know to come?” Then she explained that the thunder and lightning had upset the class. As she tried to gather the children to sit together, she noticed Wendi at her seat praying. When Wendi finished, she told her teacher that she was all right and that she had asked Heavenly Father to send her mommy to her. She asked if she could please wait by the door.
I could not stop my tears as I realized the prayer of faith of a five-year-old had literally moved me from a grocery store several kilometers away to be at her side. I am deeply grateful to Heavenly Father for this experience, for Wendi and I both learned divine lessons about faith and trust that day.

In a devotional address given at Brigham Young University on January 11, Camille N. Johnson, then serving as Primary General President, taught that our relationship with the Savior Jesus Christ provides safety and stability as we navigate life: “As I trust more and resist less, I feel bound more securely to the Savior. My faith and confidence in the Savior increase as I place my faith and confidence in Him. Because He knows my potential perfectly, He has taken me to places I never had imagined myself.”4
President Johnson has since been called as Relief Society General President.

As Julie and I raised our children, we tried to be consistent and creative. One year we decided to read the Book of Mormon in Spanish as a family. Was that why the Lord called each of our children who served a full-time mission to a Spanish-speaking mission? Es posible.

President Russell M. Nelson, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, told the following story:
“On a recent flight, our pilot announced that we would encounter turbulence during our descent and that all passengers must fasten their seat belts securely. Sure enough, turbulence came. It was really rough. Across the aisle and a couple of rows behind me, a terrified woman panicked. With each frightening drop and jarring bump, she screamed loudly. Her husband tried to comfort her but to no avail. Her hysterical shouts persisted until we passed through that zone of turbulence to a safe landing. During her period of anxiety, I felt sorry for her. Because faith is the antidote for fear, I silently wished that I could have strengthened her faith. . . .
“When we speak of faith—the faith that can move mountains—we are not speaking of faith in general but of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.”1

When girls do get a chance to get together and go into town, they sometimes ignore warnings about not flirting with guys on the subway or not going into certain bad areas of town. Rosalie Dolan, who teaches the Sunday School class for nannies in the ward, said, “One of the things we cautioned these girls against was going into the ‘combat zone’ in downtown Boston. Two girls, their first Saturday here, headed straight to it to find out what was so terrible. They saw someone who had just been murdered. That really scared them. It seems like the worst thing to do is tell teenage girls not to do something.”

Lucy was skilled at nursing, and Joseph was supportive. A Palmyra neighbor praised them as “the best family in the neighborhood in case of sickness, and one was at my house nearly all the time when my father died.” At Far West, Lucy willingly assumed the care of “20 or 30 sick … during the mobbing.” When Nauvoo was first settled and “scores of children were dying with the Black Canker” (scurvy), the Prophet Joseph and Hyrum “set apart their dear mother to labor and nurse the sick.” She “spent months amongst the poor, sick Saints.” A young neighbor called Lucy “one of the finest of women, always helping them that stood in need.”

Once when Simon escaped from his cage, Tristan couldn’t find him anywhere in the house. Tristan decided to pray and ask Heavenly Father for help. After his prayer, he felt impressed to look in the pipe of an old bathtub. And that’s just where he found the snake. Everyone in the family was grateful to have the snake back in his cage!

Some years ago, Dr. Faun Hunsaker, then president of the Southern States Mission, was invited to stay at the home of a member. He arrived after the children were in bed.
He occupied the parents’ bedroom, and during the night heard the door open and the sound of little feet. A little boy frightened by a bad dream had come to his parents’ bed for comfort.
Sensing that something was different, the little boy felt Brother Hunsaker’s face. So he spoke quietly to the child. The startled youngster said, “You’re not my daddy!”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that the little youngster crawled into bed with Brother Hunsaker and was soon asleep.
...
I said at the beginning that I might well conclude with the account of that trusting little child. I think I will do just that:
“You’re not my daddy.”
“No, I’m not your daddy.”
“Did my daddy say you could sleep here?”
“Yes, your daddy said I could sleep here.”
With that, the little boy was soon safely asleep in his arms.
God grant that all little children will be safe with every one of us because their Father and their God and our Father and our God said we could be here. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The translation process of the Book of Mormon was also a miracle. This sacred ancient record was not “translated” in the traditional way that scholars would translate ancient texts by learning an ancient language. We ought to look at the process more like a “revelation” with the aid of physical instruments provided by the Lord, as opposed to a “translation” by one with knowledge of languages. Joseph Smith declared that through God’s power he “translated the Book of Mormon from [hieroglyphs], the knowledge of which was lost to the world, in which wonderful event [he] stood alone, an unlearned youth, to combat the worldly wisdom and multiplied ignorance of eighteen centuries, with a new revelation.” The Lord’s help in the translation of the plates—or revelation, so to speak—is also evident when considering the miraculously short time Joseph Smith took to translate them.
Joseph’s scribes testified of the power of God that was manifested while working on the translation of the Book of Mormon. Oliver Cowdery once said: “These were days never to be forgotten—to sit under the sound of a voice dictated by the inspiration of heaven, awakened the utmost gratitude of this bosom! Day after day I continued, uninterrupted, to write from his mouth, as he translated … ‘The Book of Mormon.’”