Gospel Story Finder

God will always be at the helm when we minister to His sons and daughters in need. I was in a meeting with the General Authorities of the Church when President Thomas S. Monson told the story of how he had failed to follow a prompting to leave a meeting early to minister to a friend who was in the hospital because he felt it would embarrass those conducting the meeting. Later when he went to the hospital, he was informed that his friend had passed away. He taught us that people are always more important than meetings. He then said, “Never ignore a prompting—go to the rescue.” Looking at each of us gathered there, with tears streaming from his eyes, he asked, “Have you rescued anyone lately?”

“When I took this picture of the Sacred Grove, I felt peacefulness around me and the rays of sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves above. The hymn “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer” [Hymns, no. 26] came to mind, and it was as if the birds were testifying of what had occurred in this sacred place.”
Naomi S., Texas, USA

Or make a tunnel, dark and deep,
Where no one sees the sky,
But stay well over to the side
To let the train go by.

Amanda A., 18, Amazonas, Brazil
When unclean thoughts come into my mind, I try to remember the scriptures my family and I read in the morning. Every morning at 6:00, my family reads the scriptures together. It’s early, but it’s a blessing and makes me feel stronger during the day.

Despite his fragile health, President Hunter was very busy during his brief tenure as president of the Church. In addition to personal visits to ward and stake meetings throughout the Church, President Hunter also dedicated two temples (Bountiful, Utah, and Orlando, Florida), organized the 2,000th stake of the Church in Mexico City, inaugurated a new president at BYU—Hawaii, and went on a tour of Switzerland.

Her father chuckled. “He’d have to, to convince a constable sent to arrest him, and a hardhead like you. I’d like to hear him speak. My family and I will join you next Sunday.”
At noon on Sunday the Weston family began the long walk to the Benbow farm. Charity didn’t mind walking. She’d waited all week for this. Maybe something exciting would happen!
The meeting hall was almost filled when they arrived. She sat high on her father’s knee so that she could see over the heads of the people.
Suddenly a wave of whispering rolled through the people. Charity turned and saw two men dressed in dark suits sit down behind them.
Charity heard Father whisper to Mother, “Those are the rector’s clerks. He must have sent them to find out what is so all-fired appealing about this new preacher. I hope that they won’t cause any trouble. I have my heart set on hearing a good old-fashioned sermon.”
The audience quieted as Mr. Woodruff stood to speak. In a short time another wave flowed over the audience. This time it was the power of the Holy Ghost. Everyone sitting there could feel the truth of Mr. Woodruff’s words. They knew that he’d been sent to teach them about the Savior.
Tears rolled unchecked down her mother’s cheeks, and her father’s arm tightened around Charity as he grew more absorbed in the sermon.
When Mr. Woodruff finished speaking, he invited everyone to join the true church. Her father and mother stood up, ready to join those seeking to be baptized. Before they could move, the two clerks shouldered their way toward the pulpit.
The crowd parted as the two black-garbed men made their way to the front. Their faces were solemn, and Charity began to shiver. What would they do?
Mr. Woodruff greeted them pleasantly and waited for them to speak. With heads high, they humbly asked to join Christ’s church.
Another wave of noise filled the hall. Everyone wanted to talk about the clerks, the constable, Elder Woodruff—and their own baptisms! This was unheard of! It was an exciting time.
Father’s chuckle soothed her like the sound of water flowing over smooth rocks. “That does it for the rector,” he said and chuckled again. “He’s lost a constable and two clerks. I don’t think he’ll dare send anyone else to hear this preacher. Any good man will recognize the truth of his words. Any good person would feel the Spirit. I believe him. I’m going to be baptized into Christ’s church by someone with the authority to do so.”
Charity held onto his hand as he cleared a path to the front for his family. She felt a feeling of peace and security, and she knew that her father and mother would guide her along the right path until she, too, was old enough to be baptized.

When I was serving as class president of my seminary class in West Jordan, Utah, I decided to do an object lesson as a devotional.
For the lesson, each student got a card with a tiny mustard seed glued to it. I had painted each seed with glow-in-the-dark paint, so that the seeds could be easily seen in the darkness. The seed represented our faith, which would help us even in dark times.
The Spirit was strong when we talked about the devotional that day. But I didn’t think much more about my short lesson until a few months later when our seminary building burned down. Almost everything was ruined. About a week after the fire, students were allowed to claim what was left of their scriptures. Most of the books were totally scorched. After finding his scriptures, one of my classmates came up to me with a smile on his face. The card I had given to him months before was in his hand. It was still damp with water and had chemical residue on it, but the words, “With the faith of a mustard seed, trust in the Lord” could still be plainly read. And there, in the middle of the card, was the mustard seed with a sprout growing out of it! After the tribulation of the fire and the stress of chemicals, this little seed had not only survived, but thrived.

When Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife, Kathy, visited during our stake conference, Sister Andersen shared a story with us. She said that when they were living in France, she made photocopies of the conference talks for each of their children—even the very young ones. She was shocked when she found out the price of the photocopies, which was very high. Then the thought came into her mind: “What is it worth to you for your family to have the words of the prophets?”

Illustration by Brooke Smart
Forty-five minutes after boarding the plane that would take me to Dallas, where I would meet with other missionaries en route to the Brazil MTC, we had yet to leave the gate. Finally the pilot came over the speaker and told us the plane had a mechanical problem that would take 15 minutes to fix. We were taken off the plane so work could begin.
Fifteen minutes soon turned into three hours. With each passing hour I began to worry I would miss my next layover, and I’d have to fly to Brazil alone, not knowing a word of Portuguese and running the risk of having nobody there to pick me up.
I started to get scared. I knew I was doing the right thing going to Brazil to serve a mission, but why couldn’t it go smoothly? Why was this happening?
I called my house from a pay phone. With tears in my eyes I asked my mom to contact the Church’s travel office to tell them I would miss my flight in Dallas. I wanted so badly to ask her to make the drive down to the airport to pick me up. I caught myself thinking, “Maybe I can leave for my mission next week.” But I knew that wasn’t the right thing, so I held my tongue. It was hard to say goodbye and hang up the phone.
I sat there for a second trying to collect myself, and I turned around. Just then a woman passed by me, holding her little boy’s hand. She saw my name tag and immediately stopped.
“Elder! Are you coming home or just leaving for the field?”
I told her I was just leaving, and with a smile she told me her little boy looked up to us missionaries. She wished me luck and left.
I don’t even know her name, but that conversation of less than one minute gave me the strength I needed to continue. It is one of the most memorable tender mercies I have experienced. I knew God was aware of me. He wanted me to do this—and I knew that I could.

Nearly 25 years ago, our family lived in Massachusetts, where I was enrolled in graduate school. My program of study was very demanding, leaving me little free time. One Sunday in church the ward Primary president approached me and asked if I might substitute as a Primary teacher for two weeks. Primary was then held on a weekday afternoon, and I knew it would be difficult to find room in my schedule to teach the class. But after some hesitation, I agreed.
The appointed day came to teach Primary. That afternoon I was in the university library, absorbed in a book on international politics. The subject I was studying seemed somehow more important than the upcoming Primary class. Consequently, I procrastinated until just 30 minutes before the class was to begin to review the lesson I was to teach. Then I walked from the library down to our ward chapel on the edge of campus. My reluctant attitude must have slowed my steps, for I arrived a few minutes late. As I stepped to the door of the Primary room, the children were just beginning to sing the opening hymn. It was a song I had never heard before, a song whose melody and message touched me deeply:
As I have loved you,
Love one another.
This new commandment:
Love one another.
By this shall men know
Ye are my disciples,
If ye have love
One to another.
(“Love One Another,” Hymns, no. 308)
As I stood there, transfixed in the doorway, the Spirit bore witness that I was looking at the most important class taking place in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that day.
Back at the university in dozens of classrooms and laboratories, dedicated scholars were pursuing answers to the world’s problems. Yet valuable though such efforts may have been, the university did not and could not hold the ultimate answers to the problems of a troubled world. Here before me was the Lord’s answer: the quiet building up of His kingdom on earth by the teaching of the gospel of Jesus Christ. What was taking place in Primary that day was a small part of a divinely revealed plan for the salvation of a fallen world.

August 25, 1829: Martin Harris agreed to mortgage his farm to cover the printing costs of the Book of Mormon. Five thousand copies were printed in 1830.

The smell of warm bread greeted Aiden as she walked through the door after school. She sat down, eager for a slice of bread with butter.
“Before you eat, will you please take this over to Brother and Sister Brown?” Mom asked, pointing to a small loaf she had just wrapped.
Aiden sighed, grabbed the loaf, and headed out the door. Sometimes she wished her mom would only make bread for her family. She trudged through the backyard and around the corner, slowing down when she saw the Browns’ house.
Brother Brown was in his eighties, but he still took great care of his lawn. Aiden and her brother, Patrick, would often see him mowing the lawn or trimming the hedges and bushes. He always waved when he saw them and usually talked with them over his white picket fence.
But Sister Brown was never outside. She had osteoporosis, which meant that her bones were very fragile and could break easily. She couldn’t walk very well, and it was painful for her to leave the house.
Today, Aiden didn’t want to visit with them. But even though she wanted to go back home for some of Mom’s yummy bread, Aiden tried to be happy as she opened the screen door and rang the doorbell.
Brother Brown opened the door, and a big smile lit up his face. “Why, hello! Come on in, Aiden!” he said.
Aiden felt a little better already. The Browns were always so nice and so happy to have company. Brother Brown dug into the candy jar and gave her a piece of butterscotch candy as he asked her questions about school.
Sister Brown looked like she was in a lot of pain. Her small body hunched over in her armchair as she wrote something down. Sister Brown was always writing in her journal, writing poems and letters, or making cards to send to her friends. Today she was writing a birthday card very slowly. Sometimes her hands shook, and it was difficult for her to print the words.
“Why do you write so many cards and letters?” Aiden asked.
“It gives me something to do,” Sister Brown said. “I can’t see my friends very often since I can’t leave the house, so I like to write to them to show I care about them.” She finished writing the card.
Aiden chatted a bit more with Brother and Sister Brown and then walked home. She thought about Sister Brown and how much pain she was in. She felt ashamed about not wanting to visit the Browns. “If Sister Brown can serve others, I can serve her too,” Aiden thought.
So whenever Mom made bread or cinnamon rolls, Aiden took some over to the Browns, often with Patrick or her sister, Emma. She and her family sang for the Browns, especially around Christmas. Dad even recorded Aiden, Patrick, and Emma singing so Sister Brown could listen to it.
A few years after Aiden graduated from Primary, Sister Brown passed away. Aiden and her family attended the funeral.
At the end of the service, the bishop surprised Aiden by asking the members of the congregation to stand up if they had received a card from Sister Brown on their birthday. Nearly every person stood up.
As she looked around at all the people that Sister Brown had remembered on their birthdays, Aiden smiled. She thought that she and her family had been serving Sister Brown, but she was wrong. Sister Brown had served them and so many others each day of her life.

I’m grateful that our youth leaders planned a visit to the temple. As we were preparing for this trip to Apia, Samoa, we were happy for this rare opportunity. We joyfully went into the temple to do baptisms for the dead—for those who are in the spirit world waiting for us to find our family history and do work for them.
During baptisms, I saw a young man in our group baptized for Faataga Agavale, my grandfather. I felt tears of joy in my eyes, and I knew his spirit was there. I was very happy we were able to do work for him in the temple.
Saini Agavale, Samoa

In the early days of the Church in Cambodia, one of the first converts was 18-year-old Vietnam native Phuong Hong Hanh. She first attended church in July 1994 because she was interested in learning English but she was soon converted to the gospel. “I knew it was right,” she said.

The funny little woman in this 1973 Caldecott Award book likes to laugh, “Tee-he-he-he,” and make rice dumplings. One day when she runs after a rolling dumpling, she laughs at the wrong moment and is captured by the wicked oni. For a time she enjoys cooking for them with their magic paddle, but soon she becomes lonely and runs away. The wicked oni try to stop her—until they too laugh at the wrong moment!

Surely no one who really thinks would hold to that position. Nevertheless, many people accept it when they would not for a moment apply it or relate it to any other phase of their life. They would not, for instance, take the same position with regard to education. Who would not smile at a statement that all schools are alike, that one is just as good as another, and that a person deserves the same diploma no matter which school he attends, or which course he takes, or for how long?

Would you agree to send students to just any school, taking any variety of courses, and then award them specialized degrees, anything they wanted—in architecture, law, medicine? Such an attitude would suggest that a man would be just as good a surgeon by not studying for it as he would by following the prerequisite courses. No person who has given it real substantial thought would take such a position, and neither you nor I would want to be under the knife of a surgeon who had been trained, or maybe I should say “untrained,” in such a pattern.

Dad also taught his children at an early age to work for the Lord. I was six months old when he was called as the bishop, and he served as bishop for 18 years. He involved us in his work at church. I remember filling the stoker at the meetinghouse in the winter—shoveling snow too. Summers were spent cleaning the chapel ceilings and taking care of the yard.

I can’t think of a better example of helping someone gain understanding than the story of Helen Keller. She was blind and deaf and lived in a world that was dark and quiet. A teacher named Anne Sullivan came to help her. How would you teach a child who can’t even see or hear you?

For a long time, Anne struggled to connect with Helen. One day around noon, she took her out to the water pump. She put one of Helen’s hands under the waterspout and began to pump the water. Anne then spelled out the word W-A-T-E-R on Helen’s other hand. Nothing happened. So she tried again. W-A-T-E-R. Helen squeezed Anne’s hand because she began to understand. By nightfall, she had learned 30 words. Within a matter of months, she had learned 600 words and was able to read Braille. Helen Keller went on to earn a college degree and helped change the world for people who couldn’t see or hear. It was a miracle, and her teacher was the miracle worker, just like you will be, parents.

Recently, you may have read about Sister Ella Hoskins, who at 100 years old was called to help the young women in her ward with Personal Progress.20 About two years later, at 102, Sister Hoskins earned her Young Womanhood Recognition award. The young women, the ward and stake Young Women and Relief Society presidencies, and family members gathered together to celebrate her accomplishment. Boundaries of age, organization, and marital status faded away in faithful service. Young women expressed gratitude for Sister Hoskins, for her teaching, and for her righteous example. They want to be like her. Afterward, I asked Sister Hoskins, “How did you do it?”
She promptly responded, “I repent every day.”

Many of the early Saints didn’t have much food or clothing. The Church also needed money to build a temple and print scriptures. Joseph Smith prayed and asked God what to do. God told him that Edward Partridge should be the first bishop. Families gave their extra supplies to the bishop, who put them in a storehouse to help others. Bishop Partridge was also in charge of collecting tithing. Bishops are still in charge of tithing and making sure their ward members are taken care of. Now there are bishop’s storehouses around the world!