Gospel Story Finder

Born on June 6, 1954, in St. George, Utah, USA, to Richard and Miriam Schmutz, Elder Schmutz learned early about the power of prayer. As a Cub Scout he sold U.S. $17 worth of tickets to a jamboree but couldn’t find the money when it was time to turn it in. His mother encouraged him to pray, and the Lord revealed to him exactly where the money was. It was a strong confirmation of God’s love for and awareness of him.

“A perfect chance to explain” is never lost on these girls. They even take advantage of local holidays to share the gospel. For example, April 23 is “Día de San Jorge,” which is very similar to Valentine’s Day in other countries. It also happens to fall on the anniversary of the death of Cervantes, the great Spanish writer. So the tradition in Catalonia, the part of Spain where Barcelona is located, is for men to give women a rose on this day—and for women to give men a book.

The LDS girls in Barcelona adapted the tradition. They made roses out of crepe paper, inserted them in copies of the Book of Mormon, and helped the missionaries give them away. No one turns down a book or a rose on April 23rd.

1 Let’s turn left on the next street.
2 Now let’s turn right.
3 Wait! I have a bad feeling about that street.
4 What kind of a bad feeling?
I—I don’t know. … Maybe the kind Sister Simon was telling us about—you know—about promptings by the Holy Ghost. I just know that I don’t want to go down there.
5 The next day
You know that street we didn’t go down yesterday?
Yeah, what about it?
There was a robbery there about the time we would’ve gone past!
6 Oh, no! I wonder …
Yeah, me too.

Equally unwelcome was the “shower” that fell on the little town of Coonamble, Australia. People dashed for cover and shops closed hurriedly as millions of beetles fell from the sky. Householders worked at top speed trying to make doors and windows beetle-proof, but it was practically impossible to keep the invaders at bay. It was two days before life in the town even began to return to normal and much longer before the beetles were completely cleared from pantries, cupboards, bedrooms, and attics.

Now I want to tell you about Samantha. Samantha had just started work in the administrative offices of a local university. She was excited to work in a stimulating environment full of diverse thoughts, ideas, and backgrounds. One day at work a co-worker approached Samantha, said she had heard that Samantha was a Mormon, and asked if that was true. Samantha cheerfully responded that it was, but the question that followed surprised her.

“So why do you hate gays?” her co-worker asked. Samantha was surprised by the question but tried to explain her belief in God and God’s plan for His children, which she said includes guidelines on moral and sexual behavior. Her co-worker countered by telling her that the rest of society had progressed beyond those beliefs. “And besides,” she said, “history is full of people using religious teachings to wage wars and marginalize vulnerable groups.”

Samantha restated her convictions and her understanding of God’s love for all people and then asked her co-worker to respect her right to believe. The co-worker felt compelled to tell other employees about their conversation, and over the next few weeks, Samantha felt increasingly isolated as more and more co-workers confronted her with questions and attacks.

Samantha’s boss, seeing the increase in religious conversations in the workplace, cautioned Samantha that proselytizing in their work environment would put her job in jeopardy. Her work, like Ethan’s, began to suffer. Rather than risk being fired, Samantha started to look for another job.

Now, these are hypothetical stories, and yet they are not. There are many Samanthas and Ethans. However we choose to live and whatever choices we make, we all share a common humanity and desire for fairness and kindness. Ethan should not have been fired for being gay, and Samantha should not have been intimidated for being religious. Both were wrongly criticized, judged, and retaliated against.

Heavenly Father, I need $20 to buy a Web pet. It would take forever to earn that much. Please help me!
I found twenty dollars! The answer to my prayer!
Is it OK to keep this money if it’s an answer to prayer?
But what if somebody’s praying to get it back and I’m part of the answer to that prayer?
Wait! I’m just looking for an excuse to do the wrong thing. Heavenly Father would never want me to steal. It’s not my money, and I won’t take it!
You’re an honest girl, Mandy. A lot of people would have been tempted to keep this.
I know. I’m one of them, but I wanted to be honest.

One Christmas season when I was about five, I saw in a store window a jigsaw puzzle with a picture of an old fire engine going full speed down the street. The horses pulling it were galloping, smoke from the engine chimney was blowing out behind, and dogs were barking. I passed that store window many times and glued my eyes on that picture. I wanted that puzzle for Christmas more than I wanted a sled or skates or anything else.
When Christmas morning finally came, I found hung on my chair a stocking full of good things. But right off I spotted my puzzle. It was wrapped in bright paper, but I could tell by the shape what it was. I quickly opened the box and was soon lost in the pleasure of putting the puzzle together.
Before long my father came into the room and explained to my younger brother, older sister, and me that the Jensen family down the street had recently come from Denmark. He said the father had no job and no money, and then he suggested that we take our Christmas dinner to them. He also asked each of us to select our most loved toy and give it to a child in the Jensen family.
Father said we would leave at eleven forty-five and were to be ready then with our toys.
Before we left for the Jensen’s, I spent three happy hours playing with and enjoying my puzzle. I thought about giving something else, but I knew deep down that there was only one gift to give.
At eleven forty-five we all started out. Father carried the turkey on a platter. Mother and my sister Emily followed with potatoes, gravy, dressing, cranberries, and dessert. And under my arm, carefully rewrapped, was my fire engine puzzle.
When we entered the Jensen home, Father placed the turkey on the small bare table in the corner, and the others followed.
Each one of us in turn then gave his present. Emily gave her beautiful doll to the girl. I stepped forward and looked at the boy about my age. “Here,” I said as I pushed the puzzle at him. He took it from me and smiled. Next my brother gave his offering to the smallest child. And then we returned home.
It was strange, but somehow as I walked the block between our house and the Jensen’s, it seemed as if my feet didn’t touch the ground. I felt as though I were floating on clouds of good feeling, for I knew I had made someone else happy.
Even our Christmas dinner of canned beans, bread, butter, and bottled fruit had a special and unforgettable meaning on that special Christmas Day!

May 26, 1853 I went to Fourchu, a place 6 or 7 miles from Gabarouse. On my way along the beach I saw a large duck on the waves, picking among the kelp. This was a desolate place, no houses for 6 or 7 miles. The Spirit said to me, “You are going among strangers. No Saints there. Take the bird with you.” So I sat down right where the wave broke and the bird floated straight towards me, picking among the kelp and sea weed. When it got close to the shore it put its head under its wing, so I jumped and caught it. It was lively enough then and tried to get away. So when I got to Fourchu (6) I went to a house, asked if that was Mr. Cann’s. They said yes. I told them I had come over from Gabarouse to preach the Gospel to them. I had forgotten the duck. I then happened to notice them looking at it. Says I, “Here is a bird. I saw it out on the water and I thought I would bring it along, that it might be good to eat.” Says he, “Is it hurt?” “No, Sir.” I handed it to him. Heexamined it very close and said it was all right. It was cooked. We ate it. It was fat and good. A few came in. We had a meeting. The sectarian minister had poisoned the minds of the people, but Mr. Cann and family treated me very kindly … and spoke favorably to others of me.

Ward members made very effort to make Sage’s return from Galveston as smooth as possible. During a Sharing Time just before she returned, the Primary presidency held an activity to show the children that although people may be hurt or maimed, they are Heavenly Father’s children and need our help.
Nancy Eldridge, then Primary president, had a video tape made of Sage speaking to the children. On the tape Sage talked about her experience and hopes for the future. She closed by assuring her friends that she was still “the same old Sage.”
Nancy says that each of the children had to adjust to Sage in his or her own way. Her own son had a particularly difficult time. “He loved Sage, but he was afraid, and it bothered him. So he wrote her letters of love and friendship until he was able to work through his feelings.”

Children living in orphanages or refugee camps need simple educational toys that teach them basic skills and help occupy their time. File folder games** teach simple matching skills and are fun for the children. Each kit contains a file folder that includes matching games with shapes, colors, or numbers and an envelope to keep them in.
The girls in the Waynesboro Virginia Stake had the opportunity to make file folder games for the humanitarian center when they were at their stake young women’s camp.
On the day of the project, the girls were excited to be doing something that would help others. Danielle Beidler of the Waynesboro Ward says, “I learned that there are many ways to serve others, and it felt good to be able to help them. I realized that I have been so blessed.”
Chelsea Herring of the Rivanna Ward adds, “It made me think of how fortunate I am to be able to go to school.”
Martha Dudley, who was in charge of craft projects for their stake’s young women’s camp, went to ProvidentLiving.org for ideas on how to get involved with humanitarian kits. She says, “I went to the section that lists the current humanitarian needs and found that one need was for the file folder games. I thought that this would accomplish both of my goals: a humanitarian service project that would let our young women help others, as well as being fun to do at camp.”
The activity was so successful that many girls came back later that day and helped finish the folders that needed additional work and talked about their feelings of helping others. Tiffany Dudley of the Rivanna Ward says, “I learned that giving is easy when you are having fun and thinking of someone else.” In the end they assembled 60 file folder games for the humanitarian center.

I also knew that I felt at peace with myself when I did what was right. I learned when I was in the third or fourth grade how it felt to make a wrong choice. The rules at school were that we could not throw snowballs and that we could not go off the school grounds. One day I got in a snowball fight and crossed the street to get the advantage in the fight. Afterward I felt bad because I knew I had done something wrong.

My dad’s older than all my friends’ dads. He’s too old to do anything.
At the pool last summer, Jimmy’s dad did a triple somersault off the high dive. Everyone cheered. I asked my dad if he would do one too.
He laughed. “Steven, I wouldn’t survive a fall like that. Let’s get in the pool, and I’ll teach you the backstroke.”
So I learned the backstroke, but no one was cheering.
In the fall, I went out for soccer. Megan’s dad was the coach. He ran up and down the field with us for hours, shouting out the plays and showing us how to kick. My dad watched from the bleachers.
“Dad, can’t you be assistant coach or something?” I asked.
“I don’t have the energy to keep going for that length of time, Steven. But I’ve thought of a few new plays I’d like to tell your coach.”
Megan’s dad used the plays, and we won most of our games. At the end of the season banquet, Megan’s dad got a trophy. My dad just watched and applauded.
During the winter, our class went on a ski trip. All the fathers came, and they all skied down the toughest slopes. All except my dad. He would only go on the bunny slope.
“I don’t need any broken bones at my age,” my dad said when I begged him to try a bigger hill. And instead of always skiing, my dad helped some of the beginners learn to stay up on their skis.
Then at the end of the school year, our class had a parent’s day program. Most of the parents took off work to come and talk about their jobs. Since my dad was retired, I figured he wouldn’t have anything to talk about.
I sat next to John. I didn’t see his father on the stage. “Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“He couldn’t come. He’s away on a business trip. He’s gone a lot.” John wasn’t too happy about that.
“My dad’s always around.”
“You’re lucky.”
One by one the parents got up and talked about their jobs. Some of them had really exciting jobs. One was a pilot and one was a paramedic. One father even taught skydiving. After the skydiver, it was my dad’s turn. What is he going to talk about? I wondered.
“My job is my son Steven,” he began. “I like to help him learn things and to participate in his activities. I hope I’m always there when he needs me. He doesn’t think I do anything exciting, but to me, being with him every day is the most exciting thing I could do.”
I was so surprised, I couldn’t move. Even when everyone else in the room stood up and applauded him, I still couldn’t move.
After the program I ran to find my dad. I told him that I understood and that I was glad he wasn’t too old to be my dad.

Natalie likes to explore the fields around our house. She found a special tree not far from our backyard, where she likes to pray. One night as I tucked her into bed, she said that Heavenly Father had told her to fast on the next Fast Sunday. She is so thin and young that I discouraged her. It was three weeks until the next Fast Sunday, so I thought that she would forget. But she didn’t!
On the day before the fast, she knew exactly her purpose for fasting. She wanted Heavenly Father to bless an elderly sister in our branch who had been very sick. Natalie said that she was never hungry during her fast, because she knew that that was what Heavenly Father wanted her to do.
For several months, she fasted every month with a special purpose, was cheerful, and never complained once. She has been a wonderful example for our family.

May I share with you how my earthly father taught me to discover my identity and God’s plan in my life?
One Saturday morning when I was 13 years old, I was mowing the grass as part of my weekly chores. When I finished, I heard the door close at the back of our house and looked to see my father calling me to join him. I walked to the back porch, and he invited me to sit with him on the steps. It was a beautiful morning. I still recall him sitting so close to me that our shoulders were touching. He began by telling me he loved me. He asked me what my goals were in life. I thought, “Well, that’s easy.” I knew two things for sure: I wanted to be taller, and I wanted to go camping more often. I was a simple soul. He smiled, paused for a moment, and said: “Steve, I’d like to share something with you that’s very important to me. I’ve prayed that our Heavenly Father will cause what I say now to be indelibly imprinted in your mind and on your soul so that you’ll never forget.”
My father had my full attention in that moment. He turned and looked at me in the eyes and said, “Son, protect the private times of your life.” There was a long pause as he let the meaning sink deep into my heart.
He then continued, “You know, those times when you’re the only one around and no one else knows what you’re doing? Those times when you think, ‘Whatever I do now doesn’t affect anyone else, only me’?”
Then he said, “More than any other time in your life, what you do during the private times of your life will have the greatest impact on how you confront challenges and heartache you will face; and what you do during the private times of your life will also have a greater impact on how you confront the successes and joy you will experience than any other time in your life.”
My father received the wish of his heart. The sound and cadence of his voice, and the love I felt in his words, were indelibly imprinted in my mind and on my soul that day.
I have learned over the years that the greatest miracle of that day on the steps of my childhood home was that, in the private times of my life, I could go to God in prayer to receive revelation. My father was teaching me how I could learn of God’s foreordained blessings. In those private moments, I learned the Book of Mormon is the word of God. I learned God had foreordained me to serve a mission. I learned that God knows me and hears and answers my prayers. I learned that Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer.
Though I have made many mistakes since that memorable day with my father, striving to protect the private times of my life has remained an anchor amid the storms of life and has enabled me to seek safe haven and the healing, strengthening blessings of our Savior’s love and atoning sacrifice.

I also learned about prayer from my mother. I grew up in the country on a cattle ranch. When I was eight or nine, my dad gave me a Shetland pony for my birthday, and I was really happy because I liked horses. A few days after I received this gift, a couple of boys asked if I wanted to go horseback riding with them. Mother said that I could go, so I rode with them for about three hours into the mountains. Suddenly, the two boys looked at me and said, “We have to go home now. We promised our mothers we would be back soon.” They had big horses. Mine was a little pony. They took off on a gallop, and my little pony couldn’t keep up with them. When they got out of sight, I stopped and I had no idea where I was. I became frightened.

Then I remembered what my mother had told me—if you get in trouble or if you need help, remember that you can pray to Heavenly Father. I got off my pony, knelt on the ground, and prayed. I don’t remember what I said, except “Please help me to get home.” After I finished my prayer, I got back on my pony. I sat there for two or three minutes holding the reins, not knowing what to do. I decided to drop the reins on the horse’s neck. After a few seconds, the horse started to walk. He walked faster and faster, and just before dark he walked into our backyard.

I learned two things from this experience. The first is that if we will pray to Heavenly Father in sincerity, He will answer our prayers. The second is that a horse knows its way home! I didn’t know that before I prayed.

The morning sun cast gentle shadows across the courtyard as Joseph pumped water from the well into his bucket. “I’ll take my buckets up to the reservoir first,” he said. “Then I’ll return for yours.”
“I want to empty my own bucket,” five-year-old Beatrice protested.
Joseph shook his head. “It’s too heavy for you to carry up the steps. You’ll spill it.”
“No, I won’t,” she answered, standing as tall as she could.
“All right. But please be careful. If we spill, it will take us longer to fill the reservoir deep enough for my baptism today.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
The two started toward one of the houses. There were several other Armenian families living in the courtyard, their homes joined together by thick stone walls. Near one of the walls, stone steps led up to a flat rooftop and a reservoir that fed the courtyard’s fountain. Joseph started up the steps.
“Joseph! Listen! Do you hear the bells?”
“It’s the goats,” Joseph said. “I thought it was about time for the milkman to arrive.”
“Go tell Mother,” Beatrice said. “I’m sure she’ll send you for the milk. She always does.”
Joseph tried not to think about how much he liked fresh goat’s milk. “You go this time,” he said.
“But you love to go.”
“I know, but I can get the milk another day. Today I want to be baptized.”
Beatrice nodded. “I’ll hurry,” she said.
When she was gone, Joseph climbed the rest of the way to the reservoir and emptied his buckets. The water barely covered the bottom of the basin.
“I’ll never finish in time,” he grumbled. But then he remembered something that made him wish he had not complained. His grandfather had been killed by wicked men because he would not deny his belief in Jesus Christ. Joseph was proud of his grandfather, and he knew that filling the reservoir was a very small sacrifice compared to what his grandfather had done. “It will be hard to fill the reservoir,” he told himself. “But like Grandfather, I also believe in Jesus Christ. And I want to be baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. I can do this.”
With renewed determination, Joseph retrieved Beatrice’s bucket, emptied it, then hauled all three buckets back to the well.
Soon after he finished refilling the third bucket, Beatrice returned. “Mother says we can have milk at lunch,” she said.
Joseph almost replied, “I wish I could have some now,” but instead he wiped the sweat from his forehead and started back to the reservoir. Beatrice followed. Back and forth they went until the midday sun shone bright above their heads and their legs felt as heavy as stone pillars.
“Let’s stop for lunch,” Joseph said.
Joseph and Beatrice set down their buckets and headed back to their one-room home. Mother met them at the door. “You two must be hungry,” she said with a tired smile.
“Yes, Mother,” said Beatrice, “but we’re halfway finished.”
“Almost halfway,” Joseph muttered.
“It sounds like you’ve been working hard,” Mother said. She led them to a shady spot near the cooking quarters.
“My arms hurt,” Beatrice complained. “And my hands are sore.”
Joseph looked at his hands. He wasn’t surprised to see blisters forming on the palms. “Beatrice said we could have some milk,” he said.
Mother laughed. “I knew cheese and watermelon wouldn’t satisfy you today,” she said, handing him a full cup.
“I’ve been imagining this moment all morning.” Joseph lifted the cup to his lips and took a long drink.
After lunch, Joseph and Beatrice returned to the well. Again and again they filled their buckets, climbed the steps, poured the water into the reservoir, and trudged back to the well.
Finally, just before the sun began to set behind the western hills, Mother called, “Joseph? Is the reservoir filled?”
“Yes, Mother, we’ve just finished!”
“I knew you could do it,” Mother replied.
Beatrice turned over her bucket and sat on it. “I wish I was old enough to be baptized,” she said.
“I can hardly believe it’s my turn,” Joseph answered. He walked to the edge of the reservoir and dipped his hand into the water. Tiny waves rippled outward. “I’m about to be baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” he thought.
“Joseph?” It was Mother again. “Elder Booth will be here soon. Hurry down so you can get ready.”
“Coming,” he said.
Joseph walked to the steps, then turned and looked at his sister. “Thanks for helping me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re welcome,” Beatrice said. “And you can help me when I turn eight!”

When I was a branch president in Nigeria, a young sister who was a convert expressed her desire to serve a mission. Her father, not a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, strongly disagreed with her plan. Our branch council discussed the situation. We decided it would be appropriate for the branch presidency to visit her father.
The visit was initially unsuccessful until I felt inspired to share with her father the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac, as described in Genesis chapter 22. Abraham is an example of trust and faith in God. Even though Isaac was Abraham and Sarah’s only son, born when they were both old, when the Lord asked for a sacrifice Abraham willingly obeyed.
As Abraham was about to sacrifice his son, an angel intervened. “Lay not thine hand upon the lad,” he said, “neither do thou any thing unto him: for now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me” (Genesis 22:12). The word fear in that verse means “to feel reverence and awe for [God] and to obey His commandments.”1
The father was touched by this reminder of Abraham’s obedience. He said he never expected that he could be asked to do something similar, albeit not of the same magnitude. He accepted to have his daughter serve and to support her financially for 18 months.
The sister served honorably. When she returned, she married a man in the same branch. They still serve faithfully in the Church and have three children. All of her siblings have become members of the Church. Her brother also served a mission. And her youngest sister is married to my youngest brother.
When I think back about this father’s decision, I am impressed. He let his first child, a convert to a faith different from his, serve a mission. I am also reminded of the blessings his family received as more of his children became members of the Church. Today they are happily married to worthy spouses, faithfully living the gospel of Jesus Christ. The father never joined the Church, but surely his sacrifice, like Abraham’s faith in God, is “counted … to him for righteousness” (Genesis 15:6).

A historic example of commitment to be strong and immovable for all ages was portrayed by a British Olympian who competed in the 1924 Olympics in Paris, France.

Eric Liddell was the son of a Scottish missionary to China and a devoutly religious man. He infuriated the British leadership of the Olympics by refusing, even under enormous pressure, to run in a preliminary 100-meter race held on Sunday. Ultimately he was victorious in the 400-meter race. Liddell’s example of refusing to run on Sunday was particularly inspiring.

Depictions and memorials in his honor have referred to the inspirational words from Isaiah, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”24

Liddell’s admirable conduct was very influential in our youngest son’s decision to not participate in Sunday sports and, more importantly, to separate himself from unrighteous and worldly conduct. He used the quote from Isaiah for his yearbook contribution. Eric Liddell left a powerful example of determination and commitment to principle.

Sarah hopped and skipped. She was ready to hike around Silver Lake with her family. Her brother, Josh, ran ahead.
Soon the sun began to feel hot on Sarah’s arms. Her legs began to feel tired.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “We’re almost back to our car.”
Then Sarah saw a big orange rope blocking the path. “The bridge is broken,” Dad said. “We’ll have to walk back around the lake.”
“But I’m so tired!” Sarah said. Josh sat down in the dirt and frowned.
“Do you remember the story of the pioneers?” Mom asked.
Sarah nodded. She liked the pioneers.
“They had to walk a very long way,” Mom said. “Sometimes it was really hot, and sometimes it was really cold. But they kept walking. When they got to their new home, they built houses and temples.”
Sarah was glad the pioneers kept walking. She would keep walking too. She held her hand out to Josh. “Come on,” she said. “We have some more walking to do.”

Illustration by Alex Nabaum
It all started when my dad left to go on a scuba diving trip with some friends. This was nothing new to my family—my dad loved scuba diving. But three days into his trip, my family received a call from the Coast Guard. They told us my dad was missing at sea and that they were doing everything they could to find him.
We started praying for a miracle, asking Heavenly Father to help us in any way He could. The answer to our prayer didn’t come in the way I imagined it. I prayed that my dad would somehow be alive, but eventually the Coast Guard called to give us the news: my dad had drowned and they had just found his body.
I was devastated. I fell down to my knees in anger, telling Heavenly Father this was not what I asked for. How could this be the answer to our prayers? I felt hopeless and overwhelmed with pain and loneliness. I was frustrated with God. I remember praying and asking, “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?” My best friend, role model, hero, and father was just taken out of my life. All I could think about was the future and how he wouldn’t be in it. I wanted him in my life, but I felt like that was no longer a possibility.
In that moment, I could’ve continued feeling angry, and I could’ve taken the path that Satan wanted me to take. But I realized that I had another choice. Instead of letting this trial destroy me, I could let it build me up and mold me into the person God wanted me to be.
This was such a life-changing realization for me. With a tremendous amount of faith, prayer, and scripture study, I chose to take the path that would lead me to my Father in Heaven. I felt comfort in knowing that although I wouldn’t physically have my dad, he would still be there. Many times since he died I’ve felt that my dad still loves me. Because of the plan of salvation, it is possible for him to still be in my life.
I’ve learned how important it is to build a relationship with our Heavenly Father and to have an eternal perspective. I wasn’t able to learn these things on my own, though—it was through my Savior and Heavenly Father. Because of them, I know that the plan of salvation is true. As challenging as life is, I’m grateful for every new experience. With new trials comes change. I’m changing in ways that I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to if it weren’t for my trials. The Lord has a plan for each of us, and I know that if we trust Him and replace our fear with faith, we can learn to be happy in every circumstance.