Gospel Story Finder

When I was sick, I felt the Holy Ghost when my dad gave me a priesthood blessing. I am thankful for my mom and dad.
Everett O., age 6, Ohio, USA

In 2007 students in the Logan Utah University Fifth Stake not only met their goal of indexing 100,000 names but exceeded it by 3,000. They surpassed that total after the first two months in 2008 while on the way to shattering their new goal of 200,000 names.

The Lord taught another great priesthood duty during this period of Church history. In section 104 the Lord set forth the order of the Church concerning the poor: “Therefore, if any man shall take of the abundance which I have made, and impart not his portion, according to the law of my gospel, unto the poor and the needy, he shall, with the wicked, lift up his eyes in hell, being in torment.” With this precedent, in January 1839, during the exodus from Missouri, many of the brethren covenanted to “stand by and assist one another … till there shall not be one left who desires to remove from the state.”
In the bitter cold of February 1839, Daniel Stillwell Thomas reflected, “Before we crossed [the Mississippi River,] we unloaded our wagon and sent it back to assist in removing the poor and thus to save their lives, the mob still threatening them.” Daniel Thomas had five children and only one pair of shoes between them, yet he still sent the wagon back to save the destitute Saints.

Our boat couldn’t land because the harbor was frozen! I led our group in prayer asking God for help. The ice broke long enough for our boat to pass through.

Sister Chen is now battling a new disease and the aftereffects of a minor heart attack. Twenty years after first asking God why He had left her, she found herself asking the same question—and receiving the same answer. “Haven’t I already told you?” she felt Him say. “You still have temple work to do.”
So Sister Chen continues to spend one week per month at the temple.
“These are things we have to do for our ancestors that they cannot do for themselves,” she says. “With my situation, I don’t have the time commitments that others have with work and such. I need to work hard now while I can.”

Donovan aimed his slingshot at the empty soup can on the stump.
He stretched back the slingshot’s rubber tubing.
“What are you doing?” his little sister, Dana, asked.
“Watch this!” he said.
Thwack!
The rubber snapped back into place as Donovan let go, sending the small rock flying. Some leaves in a nearby tree rustled. But the tin can didn’t move. Donovan stuffed the slingshot into his back pocket. He had missed. Again!
Dana tilted her head to the side. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Nothing,” Donovan said. “Come on. Let’s go home.” They started heading back to the house.
Donovan kicked a stick out of his way. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to use Dad’s slingshot right. And he loved that thing! He always liked using it when Dad was out of town working, like now. It helped him feel close to Dad when he couldn’t see him.
He pulled the slingshot from his pocket and spun it slowly in his hand. The rough bark had become smooth a long time ago. Dad had made the slingshot out of a strong tree branch and used it for years before giving it to Donovan.
Dad had pointed at the soup can that day. “When you focus, amazing things can happen.” Donovan still remembered what happened next. Dad had aimed the slingshot and hit the soup can. In one try! He made it look easy. Donovan really missed him.
He was still thinking about Dad when he fell asleep that night.
The next morning, Donovan carried his slingshot to his favorite patch of trees to try again.
“Focus …” Donovan said as he stared at the can on the stump. He placed another small stone in the slingshot and pulled back.
Dad keeps trying, even when things don’t always work out, Donovan thought.
Donovan tried to stop thinking about all the times he had missed before. He closed one eye, the way Dad taught him. He really focused. Donovan didn’t look at anything else but the red soup can.
Taking a deep breath, he let go.
Thwack!
CLUNK!
Donovan blinked in surprise as the can sailed off the stump. “I did it!” he said. “Yes!”
Later that night, Donovan sat next to Mom after dinner. He held up the slingshot.
“I finally hit the can today,” he said, grinning.
“Well done!” Mom said.
“You know, I think this slingshot is my favorite thing in the whole world,” Donovan said.
“Oh?” Mom asked.
“Yup. Because it helps me think about Dad and feel close to him.”
Mom smiled. “I think he’ll be happy to know you feel that way. And guess what? Dad will be home in only three days. You can show him your new skills.”
Donovan could hardly wait! “That gives me an idea,” he said.
He ran to find Dana. He could teach her to use the slingshot the same way Dad had taught him!
“Hey, Dana,” he said. “Wanna learn how to use the best slingshot in Jamaica?”

A more modern life of integrity is exemplified by George Washington, first president of the United States of America. He refused any compensation, expecting the government to pay only his expenses, of which he kept an exact account. He gave 45 years of his life in the service of his country. (See David O. McKay, Secrets of a Happy Life, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1967, pages 142–44.)

One not so blessed with the gift of sight was the blind man who, in an effort to sustain himself, sat day in and day out at his usual place on the edge of a busy sidewalk in one of our large cities. In one hand he held an old felt hat filled with pencils. With his other hand he held out a tin cup. His simple appeal to the passerby was brief and to the point. It had a certain finality to it, almost a tone of despair. The message was contained on the small placard held about his neck by a string. It read, “I am blind.”
Most did not stop to buy his pencils or to place a coin in the tin cup. They were too busy, too occupied by their own problems. That tin cup had never been filled or even half-filled. Then one beautiful spring day a man paused and, with a marking pen, added several new words to the shabby sign. No longer did it read, “I am blind.” Now the message read, “It is springtime and I am blind.” The cup was soon filled to overflowing. Perhaps the busy people were touched by Charles L. O’Donnell’s exclamation, “I have never been able to school my eyes against young April’s blue surprise.” To each, however, the coins were a poor substitute for the desired ability to actually restore sight.

The hard part is actually starting, so here’s a trick to get started: Ask a four-year-old what they see. Seriously, just ask. They might look at you, they might look around, they might look up in the sky or down at the dirt. Google whatever the curious kid says he or she sees. Learn everything you can about that one thing. For example, if the kid mentioned a tree’s leaves, find out what kind of tree it is, how big it grows, and where it originated. You’ll have fun sleuthing around, and your brain will love you for it.

For example, reading “Pockets Full of Rocks,” which appeared in the June 1985 Tambuli is an entertaining way to get the message across to children.
The story tells of a man named Malcolm Tent who began putting a rock in his pocket every time someone did something to anger or annoy him. The rock served to remind him of the incident and make sure he didn’t forget to stay angry at the person responsible.
Malcolm’s collection of reminder rocks soon spilled out of his pockets and throughout his house. The rocks, symbols of his negative feelings toward others whom he couldn’t bring himself to forgive, came to dominate his entire life.

“We felt a kinship to Noah,” said William Nixon, president of the Mount Vernon Virginia Stake, near Washington, D.C., as he described the foot (30.5 cm) of rain that drenched the area.
He said four Latter-day Saint families in the Franconia Ward were displaced when 200 homes in their neighborhood were evacuated due to flooding. Although other members in the stake weren’t required to evacuate, many had from three inches (7 cm) to three feet (91 cm) of water in their basements.

When I went with my father to the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple, I got to see many sacred and beautiful rooms inside. It was an open house, so many people could see the temple. Soon I will be old enough to enter the temple and do baptisms for the dead. I love Jesus Christ and my family.
Guido R., age 10, Argentina

He told the story of a friend who chose one night to drink and drive and caused an accident that killed two people. He contrasted it with the story of his and his wife’s choice to postpone marriage so he could serve a mission as a young man.

Delphine, a convert from Paris, France, has a difficult family situation, so when the missionaries taught her that families can live together in the celestial kingdom, she wasn’t sure she wanted that. As the missionaries continued to teach her about the three degrees of glory, however, she was comforted. She learned that she will get to be with those she loves who chose to follow the gospel. With a better understanding of the plan of salvation, she said, “I found it much more just, and that reassured me.”

His hands have wrestled steel,
Bent brick,
Flung me in the sky.
Strong hands.
Today they buried me
And raised me up again,
More than alive.
Safe hands.
Now, soft as prayer,
They touch my head.
“Receive the Holy Ghost,”
My father says.
Kind hands.
My father’s hands
Could never cleanse me so,
Or fill me with such flame
As warms my soul.
But One who could
Commissioned him
To speak His name.
Clean hands.
I thank my Father
For my father’s hands,
And for His Son,
Whose strong hands bled for me,
Who bore my sins and burnished my desire
For Home, that I might rise—
As light as hope,
Clean as joy,
Bright as fire.

Offer to share your lunch with a friend who has forgotten his lunchKeep all of your food for yourselfYour friend is hungry, you don’t get the blessings that come from sharing.

Jill and I have always had family scripture reading. Generally we had scripture reading at 6 A.M. Our children would come to the table half asleep, and we sometimes wondered what they were learning. But years later, our second daughter, Mindy, came to visit us after she had children of her own. She attended church with us on Fast Sunday and bore testimony that of all the experiences she had in our home, family scripture reading was one of the most important to her.

One day a nameless Spanish deaf-mute girl found a priceless statue behind a wooden panel in a church she was cleaning. From then on she played with the marble baby each day, and each day she loved it more.
How the girl and the statue changed the lives of the people in the village, as well as those who came from outside the village to view the long-lost treasure, is a story that can bring deep and thoughtful pleasure to all who read it.

When my Young Women adviser suggested I do a Laurel value project about my family, I immediately knew we needed a family reunion.
I soon found out that planning a reunion takes time, persistence, and some hard work. It doesn’t hurt to have help from family members either. Here are some ideas that worked for me:
* Select a date. Choose a date well in advance for better attendance.
* Choose a meeting place. Use parks, pavilions, gymnasiums, or even backyards.
* Decide on a menu. Make food assignments or go potluck.
* Send out invitations. Make a list of all the relatives. Leave no one out.
* Plan activities that everyone will enjoy. Plan for swimming, board games, and art projects, just to name a few.
* Include a memento or souvenir of the reunion for each participant. Some families have screen-printed T-shirts. Others offer door prizes. The prizes can be as simple or ambitious as photos, scrapbooks, or recipe books.
* Don’t forget to send thank-you notes. Be sure to thank everyone who helped you with the planning and preparation or who donated their time or talents.
My reunion was hard work but so satisfying. I realize now what family reunions are all about.

David Bednar’s own reliance on the scriptures and his teaching of their importance have been evident throughout his priesthood service. Elder Bednar remembers: “During my training before my mission, we went to the solemn assembly room in the Salt Lake Temple. President Harold B. Lee was there to answer questions from about 300 missionaries. He stood there in his white suit, holding his white scriptures. He answered every question from the scriptures, or he said, ‘I don’t know.’ I sat there and thought that I would never be able to know the scriptures the way he did, but my objective became to use the scriptures in my teaching the way that I saw President Harold B. Lee do it. That desire is the genesis of all my scripture study.”