Gospel Story Finder

When I was 11, I helped my ward build a new Church building. The members helped build them in those days—pounding nails, painting walls, and doing all sorts of things.
When I heard that President David O. McKay (1873–1970) would dedicate the building, I really wanted to be there. My parents said that I could go. I went early and sat on the front row.
I remember seeing President McKay up close. I saw the way he stood, how he talked to people, how he treated people. He had bright blue eyes and white hair. He looked like a prophet. When I heard him speak and say the dedicatory prayer, I knew in my heart that this was God’s prophet.
I had a powerful spiritual impression from Heavenly Father: “This is My prophet.” Heavenly Father was telling me through the Holy Ghost that President McKay was His prophet.
Once I knew that President McKay was God’s prophet, I knew that the Church was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I knew that the Book of Mormon and the Restoration of the gospel were true. I also knew that all the prophets, from Joseph Smith to David O. McKay, were God’s prophets too.
Now every time a new prophet is called, I’ve had that same confirmation come: “This is My prophet.” It all started when I was a boy.

Melody scratched her puppy behind the ears. He wagged his tail. “Just wait, Buddy,” Melody said. “Soon you’re going to know how to do tricks!”
“Time to go,” Mom said. Melody gave Buddy a quick hug goodbye and ran to their family’s van. With her favorite outfit on, Melody was ready for her second 4-H meeting. She couldn’t wait to learn all about growing a garden, painting ceramics, and sewing. But most of all, she was excited about the dog-training project.
For as long as she could remember, Melody had loved animals. She imagined for the hundredth time how great it would be to take Buddy on the dog course and teach him all sorts of tricks.
They arrived at the fire station where the meeting would be held. Melody listened closely to the announcements.
“Sewing will be this Saturday at my house,” the group leader explained. “Ceramics will be next Monday after school, and the dog project is this Sunday at 2:00 at my house.”
Melody’s heart sank. Sunday! Sundays were special days for church and family. It wasn’t a day for shopping or going to the movies. But what about dog training?
All the way home she stared silently out the window. At home she went straight to the backyard and began brushing Buddy’s fur. She didn’t want to talk with anybody.
Later that night Melody sat on the couch with tears filling her eyes. Why did the dog project have to be on Sunday? It wasn’t fair!
Mom sat down next to Melody on the couch and held her hand. “What do you want to do about the dog project?” Mom asked. Her parents had talked it over and decided to let Melody make her own choice.
Melody didn’t answer at first. She’d thought about the problem all day long. She kept trying to tell herself it would be OK to do the dog project. After all, it was scheduled after church. But every time she thought this, she felt kind of squirmy inside.
“I don’t know,” Melody said. “I know I want to train Buddy. But I also want to do what’s right.”
“Keep praying,” Mom said. “You’ll know what to decide.”
Mom gave her a kiss on the forehead and left the room.
Melody went to the backyard to brush Buddy’s fur some more. She said a silent prayer for help.
She looked into Buddy’s eyes. He would be so good at learning tricks—she just knew it! But she also knew that she didn’t feel happy inside about attending the project on Sunday. She knew how peaceful the Holy Ghost felt, and that wasn’t how she felt when she thought of doing the project.
Melody realized that was her answer. If she didn’t feel good about it, she wouldn’t do the dog project.
A warm feeling grew in Melody’s heart as she made her decision. Then she had an idea. She could probably find a book about dog training at the library! Probably a couple of books. Maybe they could even learn together as a family.
“Guess what, Buddy? You’re going to learn tricks after all!” Melody tossed a stick for him to fetch. He just looked at her with a goofy grin. He didn’t run after the stick even a little bit.
She grinned. “Don’t worry, Buddy. We’ll learn together.”

My father taught me a significant lesson when I was young. He sensed that I was becoming too enamored with temporal things. When I had money, I immediately spent it—almost always on myself.
One afternoon he took me to purchase some new shoes. On the second floor of the department store, he invited me to look out the window with him.
“What do you see?” he asked.
“Buildings, sky, people” was my response.
“How many?”
“A lot!”
He then pulled this coin from his pocket. As he handed it to me, he asked, “What is this?”
I immediately knew: “A silver dollar!”
Drawing on his knowledge of chemistry, he said, “If you melt that silver dollar and mix it with the right ingredients, you would have silver nitrate. If we coated this window with silver nitrate, what would you see?”
I had no idea, so he escorted me to a full-length mirror and asked, “Now what do you see?”
“I see me.”
“No,” he replied, “what you see is silver reflecting you. If you focus on the silver, all you will see is yourself, and like a veil, it will keep you from seeing clearly the eternal destiny Heavenly Father has prepared just for you.”
“Larry,” he continued, “‘seek not the things of this world but seek … first … the kingdom of God, and to establish [His] righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you’” (Joseph Smith Translation, Matthew 6:38 [in Matthew 6:33, footnote a]).
He told me to keep the dollar and never lose it. Each time I looked at it, I was to think about the eternal destiny that Heavenly Father has for me.
I loved my father and how he taught. I wanted to be like him. He planted in my heart the desire to be a good father, and my deepest hope is that I am living up to his example.

Like myself, one student I know came here planning to go into pre-med with hopes of becoming a medical doctor. She took classes and worked hard toward majoring in Biology. She simultaneously explored different avenues, through her minors in her Holokai, various student jobs, and volunteering locally in hospitals and community programs. Along the way, she discovered new strengths and passions and adjusted her course. That is part of the process of beginning with the end in mind—it is not rigid. It’s intentional, but flexible. As you are diligent in your academic endeavors and prayerful in all that you do, you will discover personal attributes and talents that will lead you to opportunities that align with who you are and who you want to be. I want to add that she will graduate in winter 2026, in 10 semesters, and in a major that suits her values, talents, and skills. I am sure her education will lead her to opportunities that suit her as she continues to work diligently and pray for guidance and support from the Lord.

True worship is a deeply satisfying experience. Some years ago I went hiking in the Catskill Mountains with some young people to pick huckle. On this mountain there was a spring near the berry patch, so we didn’t carry any water with us. When we arrived at the spot, we found lots of big berries, but we couldn’t find the spring. After a while our thirst became almost unbearable. We quickly picked our pails full and made the long descent down the mountainside. Near the place where we had parked our car there was a crystal-clear spring of cold water. We stretched out on the grass and drank. I will never forget the intensity of my thirst and how deeply satisfying it was to drink from that spring. Worship can be like this to the true believer in Christ. The Savior told a woman in Samaria who had come to a well to draw water, “… whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.” (John 4:14.)

Kate scooped creamy mashed potatoes onto her plate. She couldn’t help but grin. She loved Thanksgiving, and there was a lot to be thankful for. Soon she’d get to eat Grandma’s famous apple pie. Plus, her aunts, uncles, and cousins were all crowded around the table for dinner, and she loved being with her family!
But the best part of Thanksgiving was at the end of the day.
“Gather around!” Grandma said once dinner was over. She handed out an envelope to each family.
Kate opened it and saw money inside.
“Who remembers what we do with the money?” Grandpa asked.
Kate raised her hand. “We use it to help someone else for Christmas!”
“That’s right,” Grandma said. “I hope you find wonderful ways to help.”
When they got home, Kate and her family talked about how they could use their money this year. They could buy a Christmas tree for a neighbor. Or help another family buy presents. Then Kate had an idea! Once when she had to stay in the hospital, someone had given her a warm, fuzzy blanket. Maybe her family could make blankets for hospital patients! Kate’s sisters, Hailey and Rachel, loved her idea.
A few days later, Mom took the family shopping for supplies. They had fun picking out fabric together.
“I like this one,” Hailey said. She held up some orange fleece with flowers.
“I do too,” Mom said. “And we have enough money for two more.”
Rachel pointed to some fabric with lions and tigers on it. “This would be purrrfect for lion around!”
Kate laughed. Her sister was so goofy. Then Kate picked up a pattern with bright colors and shapes. It reminded her of the blanket she had gotten in the hospital.
Mom and the girls spent the rest of the day at home, cutting and tying the soft fleece into blankets. It was so much fun!
Just before Christmas, Kate’s whole family brought the blankets to the children’s hospital where Kate had stayed. As they walked in, Kate recognized the bright colored walls and the sounds of beeping machines. It was fun to see the kids smile when they got their blankets.
On Christmas Eve, Kate’s family gathered at Grandpa and Grandma’s house again. She was excited to hear what her cousins had done with their Thanksgiving money. After dinner, each family talked about their holiday service adventure. One family bought gifts to donate to a charity. Another family gave their money to help a neighbor. Kate’s family told about the blankets.
At the end of the night, Kate’s heart felt as warm and fuzzy as fluffy fleece. Thanksgiving had been about thanks and giving, and that felt really good.

Recently my wife and I attended a sacrament meeting away from our home ward. Just before the meeting started, a young man approached me and asked if I would help pass the sacrament. I said, “I’d be happy to.”
I took my seat with the other deacons and asked one who was sitting next to me, “What is my assignment?” He told me I was to start passing at the back of the chapel in the middle section and that he would be on the other side of the same section, and together we would work our way to the front.
I said, “I haven’t done this for a long time.”
He replied, “That’s OK. You’ll be fine. I felt the same way when I started.”
Later the youngest deacon in the quorum, ordained only weeks earlier, gave a talk in sacrament meeting. After the meeting, the other deacons rallied around him to tell him how proud they were of their fellow quorum member.
As I visited with them that day, I found out that each week, members of all the Aaronic Priesthood quorums in that ward reach out to other young men and invite them to be part of their quorums.
These young men were all great leaders. And they clearly had some wonderful behind-the-scenes Melchizedek Priesthood holders, parents, and others who mentored them in their duties. Caring adults like these see young men not just as they are but as they can become. When they talk to or about the young men, they do not dwell on their shortcomings. Instead, they emphasize the great leadership qualities they are demonstrating.

To get ready for the Primary program, I learned the songs and memorized my part. But when it was my turn to speak into the microphone, I was scared by all of the people watching me. My Primary teachers tried to help me, but I was still too scared to say anything. Then my dad came up and held my hand. I didn’t feel scared anymore, and I said my part just right. That must be like how Heavenly Father helps all of us.

While on a leadership training assignment to Brazil, I had the opportunity to visit a Primary nursery class. Approximately eight children were seated around a table with their teacher. I watched in awe as these little ones, two and three years old, sat for a few brief moments focused in rapt attention on a picture the teacher was holding of the Savior with the children. I heard her tell them how He loves children and how He loves each one of them. She taught them that Heavenly Father loves them too. I watched them listen, and I felt that they were understanding much more than I might have thought possible. They were hearing her words and feeling her love. In the beauty and simplicity of those few moments, those children were being taught the answer to life’s most important question, “Who am I?” In their pure, childlike faith, their spirits were receptive to the truths they were being taught. That experience will be repeated for them in their nursery class Sunday after Sunday. These are significant teaching moments in the lives of young children at a time when they are ready to learn.

I talked on love at a missionary zone conference in Philadelphia one day, and during interviews a young man from Utah County, a former football player at American Fork High School, came up and said, “President, I’ve never told my dad that I love him.”

I said, “Elder, we’re not leaving this office until you do.” “I can’t,” he protested. “My father works for Geneva, and we can’t reach him during the day; but I promise, president, that I’ll call him tonight and tell him I love him.”

I replied, “Elder, after you do, call me and let me know how it went.”

After driving home from Philadelphia, I went through a tall pile of mail and did some dictation. Sister Pinnock went to bed, but I sat up for a while and wrote in my journal—still no telephone call. As I was finally going to bed, much later than I should have been going to bed, the telephone rang. “President, I did it,” he announced.

I said, “Tell me about it.” “Well, I was so frightened that I waited too long, and when I finally called, they had gone to bed. Mother answered the telephone, and because I had called late in the night on other occasions in my life, she thought I was in trouble; so I said, ’No, mom, everything’s okay, but I must talk to dad.’”

She handed the telephone to her sleepy husband, who said, “Yes, son, what is it?”

The missionary son said, “Dad, I love you. I want you to know how much I love you.”

His father began to sob and handed the telephone back to his wife, who demanded, “What did you tell your father?”

He said, “Mom, I told dad how much I love him, and I want you to know how much I love you.” Then there was crying on both ends of the line.

Brothers and sisters, if you love and appreciate someone, it is a matter of integrity to communicate that fact, because it is not said often enough.

Thanks to these stories, the children January will have one day will know a lot about their great-grandmother. They will know, for one thing, that she loved animals. January laughed when her grandma told her about trying to take home a frightened little bat from the woods when she was five years old. “She wrapped it in toilet paper and took it to her parents,” explains January. “Then her parents freaked out and told her to put it back.”
She still loves animals. Though she has never had a pet bat, she now has at least 11 birds.

Seminary students in Farmington, Maine, had an unusual visitor to their early-morning seminary class—a 240-pound moose named Matthew. Because Matthew was abandoned by his mother, he was adopted by a couple in the ward and became the talk of the town. Matthew also served as a good missionary tool, since people connected him with members of the Church.
Last spring, Matthew was released back into the wild, but his friends in seminary will never forget his visit.

Though I’d been in college for a year, I hadn’t attended many activities sponsored by my university. I hadn’t been avoiding them. I had just filled my time with institute activities, school, and work. One night when my friend, Stacy, asked me to go with her to a dance, I jumped at the chance. It would be great to meet some new people and get away from studying for a little while.
As we entered the ballroom where the dance was being held, Stacy introduced me to some of her friends, and I noticed a few familiar faces from my classes. I felt comfortable and excited as we danced on the fringe of students. When one of my favorite songs began booming from the speakers, I grabbed Stacy’s hand, and we plunged into a mass of people. We danced and sang along with the music. It was more fun than I’d had in a long time.
After a few more songs, a song I was not familiar with blared, loud and raucous. I wanted to hold my hands over my ears. I didn’t know what the lyrics were saying exactly, but they weren’t good. Everyone around me began dancing differently than they had moments earlier.
Suddenly, I realized something was terribly wrong. I was encircled by many young men I didn’t know well. They closed in on me, pushing themselves against me inappropriately. I shoved one of them back, but others moved in. I screamed and pushed and shoved until one of them finally let me out of the circle, swearing and calling me a name. Tears streamed down my face as I fell into my friend’s arms. I tried to explain what was wrong, but when I turned back to show her what had happened, I noticed another girl had taken my place. And she seemed to be enjoying her participation in their dance.
I was horrified. I stood back and watched the students dancing. The song changed again, and though it was familiar, I did not want to get back on that dance floor. I left the building and did not return.
After my experience at this dance, I spent a lot of time searching my own feelings about the situation. I had always been aware of the dark corners you avoided during school dances, but this dancing was right in the middle of the floor. Sure, my dancing had been enthusiastic, but it had not been inappropriate. I had done nothing to warrant such unwanted attention.
Then one day I came across an article by President James E. Faust called “The Devil’s Throat.” In this article President Faust taught, “There are so many shades of right and wrong that each of you has to decide where the line will be. … With all my heart I urge you to please help us push back the world. We must stand against the wind. Sometimes we must be unpopular and simply say, ‘This is not right’” (Ensign, May 2003, 51–52).
When I read those words, I knew, all through me, they were meant for me. It didn’t matter what other people thought. When I tried to “push back the world” by escaping that kind of dancing, I had definitely been unpopular. But I didn’t care. Drawing my line and saying, “That form of dancing is not right” had made me realize that to protect my standards, I have to take a stand.
Without difficulty I could see the need for me to apply President Faust’s words in other areas of my life. I reevaluated the music I listened to and threw out CDs with unsuitable lyrics. I began to discard clothing that could cross the line into immodesty. I researched movies before going to see them. I decided I wanted to prepare myself in every way to live a life worthy to have the Spirit with me, guiding me, for that’s the way I will find true happiness in life.
I know in my daily dance called life, I will be constantly surrounded and bombarded by sin readily accepted by the world. It isn’t my fault that sin is out there, but it is my concern. To protect myself I must do as President Faust counseled and draw my line. Then and only then will I have the strength to listen to the Holy Ghost so I can know when to stand up and how to push back the world in defense of myself and my values.

Ryan started learning about music when he was two years old. His parents put a set of stereo headphones on him and, instead of pulling them off, he was fascinated. He started piano lessons at seven years old, but like most people, he didn’t like to practice. As he learned to play, he and his mother discovered his talent. “I never did like the endings of pieces of music in books. I would just start making up new endings.” Several years later they discovered that Ryan had perfect pitch. Then he started writing music and performing on a variety of keyboard instruments. He has won numerous awards for his musical talent—composing, performing, and singing. He was voted the most talented student in his ninth-grade class.

How powerfully this lesson was taught once in France when a family got into their car to go see the grandparents. While en route they saw the grandmother coming in another direction and pulled the car over to stop and get her attention. As soon as the car stopped, a small boy jumped out of the backseat and began to run across the busy highway to see his grandmother. The father, seeing his son in danger, just yelled, “Stop,” as the boy reached the center of the road. There was no time to give instructions or reasons, just direction. The boy, hearing his father’s voice, stopped and froze there until rescued. How profound it really is to be like a child and be obedient!

Some years ago, before my leaving to become president of the Canadian Mission headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, I had developed a friendship with a man by the name of Shelley who lived in the ward but did not embrace the gospel, irrespective of the fact that his wife and children had done so. As I served as a mission president, had I been asked to name anyone I knew not likely to become a member of the Church, I believe I would have thought of Shelley.
After I was called to the Twelve, I received a telephone call from Shelley. He said, “Bishop, will you seal my wife, my family, and me in the Salt Lake Temple?”
I answered hesitantly, “But, Shelley, you first must be a baptized member of the Church.”
He laughed and responded, “Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. My home teacher was a school crossing guard, and every weekday as he and I would visit at the crossing, we would discuss the gospel.”
I had the privilege to see this miracle with my own eyes and feel the joy with my heart and soul. The sealings were performed; a family was united. Shelley died not long after this period, but not before he publicly thanked his home teachers for their faithful service.

My career brought joy, growth, and satisfaction through trying to serve Him and His children. After I retired, the world and my career field moved on without me. Some days, in “down” times, I have wondered if I really did any good during those years—if my offering was worthy of the great promises I was given.

During one of those times, I felt this answer: reread your patriarchal blessing. As I read it, pointed questions came to my mind: “Did I not give you this blessing as I promised? Did this not come true in your life? And this?” I saw clearly how the Lord has fulfilled blessings He promised me. I felt assurance that things I had offered humbly and willingly were acceptable and also an admonition that I am not done yet—there are still more opportunities to serve.

As a young 12-year-old Scout, I received a gift of a much-desired addition to my Scouting equipment. It was a hatchet with a heavy leather cover! On the next overnight hike, we arrived in camp after dark, wet and cold from the heavy snow on the trail. All I could think about was building a big roaring fire. I immediately went to work chopping a fallen tree with my new hatchet. As I chopped, I was frustrated because it didn’t seem to be cutting very well. In my frustration, I worked harder. Disappointed, I returned to camp with only a few pieces of wood. By the light of someone else’s fire, I discovered the problem. I hadn’t taken the cover off the hatchet. I can report, however, the cover was chopped to shreds. The lesson: I became distracted with other things.
Brothers and sisters, it’s time to take the cover off our hatchets and go to work. We must not sacrifice our exaltation or that of our families for less important interests.

Five Beehive girls had a surprise introduction into the Young Women program in the Twin Falls 11th Ward, Kimberly Idaho Stake.

The girls of the ward were worried that five of their friends were only partially active, so they planned a surprise breakfast.

But instead of inviting their friends, they decided (with the permission of the girls’ parents) to “kidnap” them. Each of the five girls was pulled out of bed and taken to their leader’s house for a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. While waiting for breakfast to cook, the girls played games. They vowed that this was one morning they would remember.

When I was very young, around 7 or 8, I started attending the newly established Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Bouaké, a provincial town in central Ivory Coast. I went there with my brothers, of whom I was the youngest.
It was with joy that I went on Sunday to partake of the sacrament. In Primary we played while learning gospel principles, I enjoyed the treats that were occasionally distributed to us.
One day I heard a talk from a full-time missionary. He gave such a powerful testimony. I had never heard anything like it before. He testified, “I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the one true Church on earth.” He left his mark on my mind forever.
For me, coming with my parents from an evangelical church it was a great change.
These words of the missionary sowed something ineffable in me. I am grateful to this missionary who helped me to strengthen a personal testimony in me. He gave me the strength and desire to serve a full-time mission to share what I have learned and to touch other people’s hearts.