Gospel Story Finder

In April of 1836, Elder Heber C. Kimball and others entered the home of Parley P. Pratt and, filled with the spirit of prophecy, they placed their hands on the head of Brother Pratt and declared: “Thou shalt go to Upper Canada, even to the City of Toronto, … and there thou shalt find a people prepared for the fulness of the gospel, and they shall receive thee, and thou shalt organize the Church among them, and many shall be brought to the knowledge of the truth and shall be filled with joy; and from the things growing out of this mission, shall the fulness of the gospel spread into England, and cause a great work to be done in that land” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1975, pp. 130–31).

My seminary teacher used the article “Extra Strength” (Jan. ’02) in one of her lessons. That very day, a friend from school was asking me questions about the Church while we were in the weight room. I tried to answer him the best I could but didn’t feel my words were very influential. But I felt impressed to do as the young woman in the article did. The following day I gave my friend the new For the Strength of Youth and told him it contained the guidelines written for teenagers to follow. It felt good to have done this small missionary effort.
Marek de SavignyDunrobin, Ontario, Canada

Looking for ideas for an Eagle project? Check out what these youths did:
Jared Kawaianuhea of Kaneohe, Hawaii, taught the older youth in his ward how to prepare tax returns. They then offered tax preparation help for simple returns as a free public service.

As the Ellsworth Company started its third month of travel, food supplies began to dwindle. During this part of the journey, the pioneers were blessed to come across many buffalo on the Plains. The pioneers replenished their food supplies by shooting a few buffalo, cooking and eating the fresh meat, and then drying some meat for the days ahead. Buffalo chips were used, in the absence of wood, to build fires for warmth and for cooking. The pioneers spent many hours repairing the handcarts that often carried up to 500 pounds of goods over hard roads, through numerous streams and rivers, and up sandy bluffs from Florence, Nebraska, to the Salt Lake Valley.
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Captain Ellsworth shot a buffalo, which was very thankfully received (16 miles)

Four-year-old Chad could hardly wait until Monday, when he would go to Cousins’ Camp for the first time. His grandparents held a special camp each year for all their grandchildren.
His older brothers and sister talked about it all year, saying it was even better than going to the Grand Canyon, where their family had visited last year.
The night before camp, Chad and his brothers and sister packed their clothes, scriptures, and journals. Chad couldn’t read yet, but he had his own set of scriptures. When Grandpa had told him he should bring a journal, too, Chad was worried.
“Grandpa,” Chad had whispered, “I don’t know how to write.”
Grandpa had smiled and placed a gentle hand on Chad’s shoulder. “That’s all right. You can draw pictures of what we do at camp. Grandma and I want you to have a record of the week.”
Chad’s mother took him and his brothers and sister to his grandparents’ home in the country the following morning. A banner hung between two poles with the words “Cousins’ Camp” printed in big black letters.
Grandma and Grandpa greeted each child with a hug and a name tag. Grandpa asked Chad’s older brother, Tayson, to give a prayer.
The children rotated between a story station, a cooking station, and a craft station. Grandpa told stories about their pioneer ancestors at the story station. At the cooking station, they made pizzas from Grandma’s homemade dough for their lunch.
At the craft station, Chad made a birdhouse. He couldn’t decide what colors to paint it. All the colors were so pretty. Then he remembered a song he learned in Primary. He chose red, yellow, and blue.
Grandma sat on the bench beside him. “You have chosen beautiful colors for your birdhouse,” she said.
Chad smiled and said, “Thanks, Grandma. They’re the Primary colors.”
Later, Grandma helped everyone make Peanut Butter Balls for an afternoon snack. Chad ate three.
When Chad started to yawn, Grandma suggested a nap.
For dinner, Grandpa showed everyone how to make tinfoil meals with hamburger, potatoes, and carrots. Then they cooked them in the campfire coals.
Chad usually didn’t like his food mixed together, but the tinfoil meals tasted great. He asked for seconds.
At the end of the day, everyone roasted marshmallows over the campfire. Grandpa and Grandma told stories from their childhood. After Chad said his prayers, he settled inside his sleeping bag, tired but happy. “This is the best camp ever!” he thought. “There are already a lot of pictures I can draw in my journal. I can’t wait to see what we do tomorrow.”

Eric sat down on the couch next to his mom and wondered why she looked sad.
“We need to talk,” Mom said.
“Let me guess. It’s something about the move, right?” Eric asked. It seemed to Eric like almost everything had to do with the move.
“Well, yes,” Mom said. “It’s about Muffie.”
“What about Muffie?” Worry crept into Eric’s voice.
Mom sighed. “We can’t have pets in the new apartment.”
“But she’s my dog!” Eric patted Muffie’s head as she lay beside him. “She goes with me wherever I go.”
“I’m sorry, Eric. We can’t take her with us, but …”
Eric didn’t hear any more. He ran to his room and flung himself on the bed as Muffie followed. Eric buried his face in the quilt Grandma had made him. He didn’t want Muffie to see him cry. Muffie whined softly and wiggled her small honey-colored body next to Eric. She did that whenever he was confused or upset.
Eric thought about the first day Muffie wandered into his yard. She had bounded up to him, her stub of a tail wagging like she knew him. He and his mom tried to find the dog’s owner, but they couldn’t. Mom let Eric keep Muffie. Now, everything seemed so unfair. Eric wondered why this was happening.
Eric didn’t sleep well that night. In the morning, Mom asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Eric swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m too sad.”
“I don’t blame you for being sad or even angry.” Mom put her arm around him. “When I was little, my dog Pancho ran away. I never knew if he found a good home. It’s different with Muffie. We’ll find her a place to live.”
“Muffie’s home is with me,” Eric said. “Why can’t we get a place where we can keep her?”
“I can’t find an apartment that will allow pets,” Mom said. “Besides, Muffie wouldn’t be happy in a crowded place where she can’t run around.”
“If I were Muffie, I wouldn’t like that either,” he admitted. “But I’ll miss her.”
Mom spoke gently. “I have an idea. When you pray tonight, ask Heavenly Father to help you feel better and to help us find a good home for Muffie. After all, He loves Muffie too.”
After his prayer that evening, Eric was filled with warmth and peace. He felt that Heavenly Father would help take care of Muffie.
Mom put an ad in the paper, but days passed and no one called. In the meantime, Eric spent every spare moment with Muffie.
The move was only a week away, and Muffie still didn’t have a new home. Eric prayed harder than ever. He hoped that Heavenly Father would not forget about Muffie.
The day before the movers came, Mom said, “I don’t know what else to do except take Muffie to the animal shelter.”
Eric’s stomach tightened.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “Someone will adopt her, and she’ll find a good place to live.”
Eric wasn’t listening. He couldn’t understand why—after so many prayers—he still had to take Muffie to the animal shelter.
The next morning, Mom and Eric rode in silence to the shelter. When they arrived, Eric slowly tugged Muffie on her leash toward the shelter. Muffie jerked back as Eric tried to move her through the door.
“Come on, girl. It’ll be OK,” Eric said, but he wasn’t convinced.
While Eric’s mom signed papers, Muffie squirmed and barked. Afterward, Eric knelt and held Muffie close to him, then ran out of the room. He couldn’t bear to say good-bye. It was bad enough hearing her yelps.
Eric threw himself into the car. As they drove away, Mom offered comfort, but Eric remained quiet. He felt numb inside. “Why is this happening?” he wondered.
Suddenly, he noticed the toy dog bone still in his pocket. It was the good-luck bone he had wanted to give Muffie.
“We have to go back, Mom. I forgot to give Muffie the bone.”
At the shelter, Mom waited in the car while Eric went inside. A worker was trying to put tags on Muffie’s collar. Her barks of protest changed to a yip of glee when she saw Eric. She jumped into his arms. Eric wished he could stop the tightness in his throat.
Behind him, the door opened, and a little boy and a woman walked in. The boy pointed at Muffie and said, “Look, Mom, it’s Fluff!”
“After all this time? I don’t know, Tommy,” his mom said.
Eric watched with big eyes. Tommy edged forward. “Fluff. Here, girl,” he coaxed.
Muffie hesitated only a moment before she leapt toward Tommy. Eric stared at his own empty arms, then looked at his dog and Tommy together. It reminded Eric of his own first meeting with Muffie.
“Wait, Tommy.” His mother turned to Eric. “Is she yours?”
“Well, she, I …” Eric stammered.
“She can’t be yours. I lost my Fluff months ago, and now she’s back.” Tommy patted Muffie, and she nuzzled his cheek.
“Could she really be Tommy’s lost dog?” Eric asked himself. Eric was still sad, but the look in Tommy’s eyes made it not hurt so much anymore to let Muffie go. “Bye, girl,” he whispered.
When Eric told his mom what had happened, she hugged him tightly. “It’s all right, Mom,” Eric said. “Muffie is OK because Heavenly Father really does love her too.”

After hearing the stake patriarch speak in sacrament meeting, I felt inspired to ask my bishop for a recommend. Then the patriarch and I set a date. As I entered his house that morning, I knew I was on the right path. We told each other a little about our lives. After that, the patriarch laid his hands upon my head and began to prophesy about my life. I could feel that it was all true and that it was really God that was speaking through the patriarch. I wept. I learned many things about myself that day.
Jared Edge, 18Layton, Utah

In conclusion, let me share the lesson I learned about how to take upon us the name of Christ and testify of Him by using the correct name of the Church.

President Nelson, God’s living prophet, in a 2018 general conference address titled “The Correct Name of the Church,” said: “It is a correction. It is the command of the Lord. Joseph Smith did not name the Church restored through him; neither did Mormon. It was the Savior Himself who said, ‘For thus shall my church be called in the last days, even The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ [Doctrine and Covenants 115:4].”

We all left general conference that day committed and determined to follow the prophet and to use the revealed name of the Church from then on. I really watched myself to make sure I used the correct name of the Church. The first few times, I had to be very conscious and not allow myself to go back to the old ways. After the first attempts, I felt more comfortable with using the revealed name of the Church. I admit that many times, I would speak the name of the Church quickly. I felt concerned that people would not pay attention to the Church’s full name and that they might think it to be a bit long.

However, I later realized that speaking the full name of the Church with intent gave me valuable opportunities to speak the name of Jesus Christ and in fact bear testimony of the Savior by declaring His name in the name of His Church. I also noticed that when I spoke the correct name of the Church with others, I more frequently remembered Jesus Christ and felt His influence in my life.

By following the prophet, we can all learn to testify more of Jesus Christ by using the correct name of the Church, thus taking upon us more fully the name of the Lord.

In a fenced field outside of Price
I saw my first buffalo.
Horned, humped, and shaggy warm,
he sat in the snow, his legs curled under like a lamb’s.
He turned his bearded head
and watched through wire as I passed,
his slow eyes following me
from post to post.
I saw something of the aged scholar in that face,
of one who had dredged up the past
from reading too many books—
he looked tired.
Where was the snorting, pawing, two-ton beast
I knew from spaghetti westerns?
I yelled, but he didn’t explode
into hoof and horn and frenzied eye—
he didn’t even blink.
Then a rancher chugged up on his tractor to unload fodder.
My buffalo friend lumbered up,
and on lank legs, trotted
to where six spotted jerseys mooed for hay.
I left him munching with the cows
and walked up the road alone,
saddened at fenced prairies and broken buffalo,
saddened at having followed my own mediocre crowd.

Several years ago, I received a letter from a woman who … was ever so anxious for her husband, who as yet was not a member of the Church, to share the joy she felt.
She wrote of a trip which she, her husband, and their three sons made from the family home to Grandmother’s home in Idaho. While driving through Salt Lake City, they were attracted by the message which appeared on a billboard. The message invited them to visit Temple Square. Bob, [her] husband, made the suggestion that a visit would be pleasant. The family entered the visitors’ center, and Father took two sons up a ramp that one called “the ramp to heaven.” Mother and three-year-old Tyler were a bit behind the others, they having paused to appreciate the beautiful paintings which adorned the walls. As they walked toward the magnificent sculpture of Thorvaldsen’s Christus, tiny Tyler bolted from his mother and ran to the base of the Christus, while exclaiming, “It’s Jesus! It’s Jesus!” As Mother attempted to restrain her son, Tyler looked back toward her and his father and said, “Don’t worry. He likes children.” …

A third talk that gave me hope that conference was Elder Larry S. Kacher’s. As I have studied this talk, it has taught me powerfully. I have learned that the Lord allows us to experience the complexities of life to help us turn to Him. Elder Kacher taught that “there is simplicity on the other side of life’s complexities as we remain ‘[steadfast] in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope’ [2 Nephi 31:20].
“Part of life’s purpose is to allow these potential stumbling blocks to become stepping-stones as we climb what I call the ‘ladder of faith’—a ladder because it suggests that faith is not static. It can go up or down according to the choices we make.”10
I have grown through this trial of my faith. In my puny wisdom, I want to spare my children from the trials of life. But would I deny my children this same growth? In God’s mighty wisdom, He has provided a path for us to follow, His plan of salvation. As we navigate that path, we encounter challenges that test our faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It is up to us to use our agency to choose to follow Christ in our own ladder of faith, allowing our trials to be stepping-stones rather than stumbling blocks. Elder Kacher reminds us that “our progression is an eternal one.”11
My children’s story is not over. God’s plan of salvation is real, and I need to have faith in His plan and trust in His purpose. As my children continue to exercise their agency, I strive to remember that the Lord will continuously reach out toward them and that He will help them return if they choose to do so. He is mighty to save.

It was a big day for Julie. It was her first day in first grade.
It was a big day for Caroline too. It was the first day she wouldn’t have Julie to do things with.
Mother fixed a big breakfast.
After eating, Julie brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and picked up her new lunch box. Then Mother and Caroline walked with her to the corner, where Mother kissed Julie good-bye and Julie got on the school bus. Caroline and Mother waved as the bus drove away.
“I want to go to school, too,” Caroline said to Mother.
“You aren’t old enough yet, Caroline,” Mother told her. “But since this is a special day for Julie, why don’t we do some special things too?”
“Can we ride on a school bus?” Caroline asked eagerly.
“No,” Mother said as they walked home, “but we can go for a ride in the car.”
It wasn’t like riding in the car usually was, because this time Caroline got to sit in the front seat instead of the backseat. She could see everything much better.
First, they went to the library and Caroline picked out two picture books all by herself to take home.
Then they went to the park, where they fed the squirrels. And at the playground, Caroline got to go down the slide as many times as she wanted to.
They had hamburgers and french fries for lunch—with a sundae for dessert!
Next, they went shopping at the grocery store. Caroline got to help push the cart.
When they went home, Caroline helped Mother put away the groceries. Then they played her favorite board game.
Even though Caroline loved her special day, she missed not having Julie to talk to and play with.
Soon, however, Mother told Caroline, “It’s time for Julie to come home.”
They walked to the corner and waited. Along came the big yellow bus. It stopped, and Julie got off.
“We went to the library today, and I picked out two books all by myself,” Caroline told Julie as they walked home. “And I got to sit in the front seat of the car all the time! And feed the squirrels. And push the grocery cart.”
“I have my very own desk,” Julie said. “And my teacher is Miss Larson. And we had recess. And I have a new friend named Kathy.”
“I missed you,” Caroline said.
“I missed you, too,” Mother said.
“And I missed both of you,” Julie said. “School was fun, but I’m glad to be home.”

There is never a situation where good manners are optional. Before his mission, my son would say to me, “It’s okay. I don’t have to have good manners here when I’m just with my friends.” Or my daughter would say, “We don’t have to have good manners here because it’s just us at home. When I go out I’ll do okay.” Then the whole family would be out to dinner and they both would be eating like slobs. I’d say, “I thought you two said that when we go out to dinner you’d have good table manners.” All they could say was “Oops!” They got caught by their bad habits. Good manners need to be practiced.

It had been four years since my baptism, and I had been less active for most of that time. I was drinking, smoking, and very depressed. My husband, Ian, was away at sea, leaving me home alone with two small children. And now his submarine had major defects and was in dry dock at the other end of the country. Each evening for six weeks the phone would ring, and Ian would say, “We should sail tomorrow.” But tomorrow never seemed to come, and the promised sailing was repeatedly delayed.
The bright lights on the horizon were my marvelous home teachers and visiting teachers, who came regularly to my door and shared their love and fellowship. I must admit I was not always polite and sometimes downright rude. Nevertheless, I knew I could pick up the phone at any time and they would be willing to help. My home teachers were consistent in their belief that if I came back to church, Ian would get baptized—but I had to set the example first. Yet I never felt the desire to put their faith to the test. I was too spiritually low.
One evening after speaking to Ian and learning that the submarine had again been unable to sail for home, I sat and cried, feeling utterly desolate. Then I began to pray, something I had not done for a very long time.
As I prepared for bed that evening, I was conscious of something I had not noticed before—a very strong, though not unpleasant smell. It stirred a memory long forgotten. I had to think for a while before I recognized that it reminded me of the chapel where I had been baptized. As recognition dawned I felt a warm, comforting glow within and an awakening desire to go back to church.
I phoned Tony, one of my home teachers. Soon he and his wife, Rosie, arrived at my door, and we talked as we had never talked before. All past barriers were swept away. I was going back to church.
I could hardly wait for Ian’s next phone call. This time he was met with excitement rather than depression. To my astonishment, his reaction to my story was to suggest that when he got home we should go to church as a family.
The following Sunday Tony and Rosie picked up the children and me and took us to church. I was surprised to see a missionary who had been sent back to the area for a second time. He had been to our home before but had failed, along with many others, to impress either Ian or me to go to church. He greeted me warmly now and announced that he had come back to our area to baptize Ian. I was skeptical and laughed, but during the following week Ian at last came home. As he had promised, he came to church the next Sunday. Elder Paskett approached him on that first visit and made arrangements to come with his companion, Elder Brown, and teach Ian the discussions. Within two weeks Ian had accepted the invitation to be baptized. The whole process took less than a month, and shortly afterwards the missionaries were moved from our branch to another area.
During those weeks the outpouring of love through the Holy Spirit and from the members of our branch was overwhelming. We made a commitment then that if we were going to live the gospel at all, we would live it fully. Shortly after his baptism Ian was called as president of the Young Men, and I was called to serve in Primary. Our Church life became full and exciting. Over the years our family blossomed from two to five beautiful children. We were sealed in the London England Temple in 1982, with Tony and Rosie in attendance.
The gospel has touched every part of our lives since that time. We have had our ups and downs but have never regretted our decision to serve the Lord. We have truly found a home in His Church.

The Nauvoo teens know well the feeling of being in the presence of a prophet. The last two Presidents of the Church have visited Nauvoo. Dustin Powell, age 17, says about President Hinckley: “When the prophet came to speak, I was really paying attention to him. Everyone was attentive. Everything was quiet so everyone could listen to him. I thought it was amazing.”
Trampas Powell, age 16, adds, “You just felt good to be where he was.”

I love hearing the variety of voices and accents of youth who sent in recordings. Knowing their voices would be heard around the world, many readers worked very hard to get their recordings just right. Some, like Thomas from New Zealand (who read 3 Nephi 20) or José from Peru (who read 3 Nephi 23), practiced for hours or days before recording. A group of 10 youth from South Korea faced the challenge of English not being their first language. Their solution was to work together, each recording a few verses at a time and stitching them together into what became 2 Nephi 28 and 29.

When we accept the invitation, understanding the “why” behind it, we will have more opportunities to become closer to the Savior. We will begin to understand that because I love the Savior, I want to learn more about Him by studying the words of the living prophets. And because I love my fellow man, I will share the teachings of prophets, seers, and revelators with others, starting with my loved ones.

In both examples, you are doing a righteous thing. In one, the goal seems to be using the means that Heavenly Father and the Savior have given us, which are the messages shared during general conference. The second version embraces the profound blessing of gaining insight into the underlying reasons, offering a pathway to understand eternal truth and the blessings promised to all who make the teachings and life of our Savior, Jesus Christ, the focal point of their lives.

Michelle D. Craig
Because of my father’s call as a mission president, I received my own call to serve a mission earlier than the standard age for sister missionaries. That meant I would enter the missionary training center before high school graduation. To me, the timing did not make sense, but I received a strong spiritual confirmation to trust in the Lord. I did, and things worked out beautifully.
Trusting the Lord means moving forward even when the path is not completely clear.

In junior high and high school, I reached my dream to be an athlete. I played football and baseball. Our football games were usually played on Friday evenings. My father now worked out of town during the week. But each Friday afternoon, he left work and drove six or seven hours to make it to every one of my games. He never arrived in time for the start of the game, but the coaches would leave a sideline pass at the gate for him. I knew that sometime during the first half, I would look up and there he would be on the sideline, watching me. Then after church on Sunday afternoons, he would have to turn around and drive back to work.

Illustration by Jessica Parker
I was six when I had to leave my birth family. It was very sad and scary. A few months after this happened, I first heard about Jesus Christ.
I started visiting a family who became my foster family. They had lots of kids who were kind to me and loved the Savior. My new family let me go to church with them, and I felt safe and happy there.
It took a few years of going to church and reading scriptures before I understood what the gospel was, and I wanted to get baptized very badly. I was 12 years old when I was finally adopted by my foster family, and I was allowed to be baptized if I wanted to!
At my baptism, I bore my testimony and felt God’s love surround me with a great strength.
Reading the Book of Mormon and learning about Jesus has helped me know I’m not alone and that I’m a child of God. Even when things don’t go how I want, He will always be there for me.
Violet B., Hawaii, USA