Gospel Story Finder

Latter-day Saints in Memphis, Tennessee, are working with the NAACP to help mothers and babies and reduce infant mortality rates.

In Tennessee, USA, some Latter-day Saints have joined with brothers and sisters of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) to help mothers and their babies thrive in an area that has one of the United States’ highest infant mortality rates. This effort is helping carry out the vision President Russell M. Nelson outlined in 2021 of the two organizations coming together in community service.8

In November 2022, four members of the Dudley family from the Memphis Tennessee Stake gathered with several dozen people at the NAACP Memphis Branch to pass out fliers about a program of classes designed to help new and expectant mothers better care for their children.

“We had the opportunity to knock on the door of a woman that is pregnant right now,” said Marc Allan Dudley, who distributed fliers with his wife, Sonya, and two of their daughters. “Her eyes kind of lit up, and she was thankful for the program. … People are happy that somebody notices that there’s an issue and that there’s somebody doing something about it.”

“This partnership is God ordained and God inspired,” added NAACP Memphis Branch president Van Turner. “I’m just so happy that it’s happening at such a critical time in our city. We’re dealing with public safety, we’re dealing with homelessness, we’re dealing with poverty. [It’s critical to address] the origin of humanity, when these young people are in the womb, and try to make sure they get the proper care while in the womb [and then] come out and survive and be healthy. Once that happens, they have a great start in life.”9

Suddenly I didn’t seem so special anymore. Then I thought of Kevin, my best friend. If he was a Last-days Kid, too, maybe he’d like to come to Primary with me. I’d love it if he’d join the Church. I’m the only boy in my Primary class. Lisa and Tina-Marie are OK, but I’d sure like to have a buddy in there. So I told Kevin a little about maybe being a Last-days Kid and asked him if he’d like to go to Primary with me. But he said he had other things to do on Sunday. I said, “Some other time, maybe.”

“Well, maybe,” he said, “but probably not.”

I could tell that he hoped I’d drop the subject. I felt really stupid, because I figured that he’d start to tease me about being a Last-days Kid.

Sure enough, he did. At our next soccer game we were down three to one at the half, and our coach, Gracie Gosney’s dad, was trying to inspire us to be a come-back team. “You can do it,” he said as we all sucked on the oranges the trainer had passed out. But from the looks on all of our faces, it was obvious that nobody believed that we had a chance.

Then Kevin poked me in the side and said, “Maybe we could come back and win this game if some of us are Last-days Kids!” Then he started giggling.

“What are you talking about?” Coach asked.

“Ask Ryan. It’s something they teach in his church,” Kevin said.

I stared at the ground and said, “Some of the children on the earth today were saved to be born now, because they were valiant spirits in heaven. So, Last-days Kids are special.” I said it as quickly as I could, hoping the referee would blow her whistle before anyone could laugh.

Coach didn’t understand what I was talking about, but he said, “You mean that you believe that you’re special, Ryan?”

“Probably.”

“And do you believe some of the players on our team are Last-days Kids?”

I looked him right in the eye, and I could tell by his voice and face that he wasn’t teasing me, that he really wanted to know. “Yes,” I said louder. “At least, we could be.”

“I think you’re right.” He smiled. “Let’s go out there and play like Last-days Kids!” He gave us a cheer, and we all cheered back. “Last-days Kids! Last-days Kids! Last-days Kids!” we chanted as we ran out onto the field. The other team and all the parents stared at us, trying to figure out what we were saying.

We won the game, four to three, and I kicked in one of the goals myself! After the game Gracie walked over to me. “Tell me some more about your church, Ryan,” she said.

I told her about the Articles of Faith, which is what Sister Adams says that we should do if someone wants to know what the Church teaches. But Gracie didn’t seem to understand them at all, so I started telling her about Primary.

As I look back over my life and remember the difficult decisions, one stands out far more than others: Should I go on a mission? Mom and dad want me to go. The bishop tells me I should go. Some of my friends are going, but others tell me it would be a mistake. They say: “Think of the fun you’ll miss.” “What about your education?” “How about your girl friend?” It just seems that there is so much going on that I can’t give up two years. What should I do?
Why should you serve a mission? Several things come to my mind as I think about the answer to this searching question. Surely, the answer is easy: The Lord says you should; the prophet has given repeated emphasis to this; your family, Church leaders, and others encourage you to serve—but they are not you. I remember having these thoughts. I also remember how good I felt, from the inside out, from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head, when I finally said yes. I received a confirmation from the Lord that what I had done was good. It was right, and I knew it. For once in my life I had started thinking about others instead of “number one” (me), and that gave me a feeling I have yearned for every day of my life since. It’s rewarding to give of yourself that others might be blessed. This is one of the reasons why our Savior made the following statement: “And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.” (Matt. 10:38–39.)

We should all realize that great works of righteousness can be and are performed by the Aaronic Priesthood. President Wilford Woodruff relates an experience that he had. He said:
“I was strongly impressed three times to go up and warn Father Hakeman [an early apostate]. At last I did so, according to the commandment of God to me. The third time I met with him, his house seemed to be full of evil spirits, and I was troubled in spirit at the manifestation. When I finished my warning, I left him. He followed me from his house with the intention of killing me. I have no doubt about his intention, for it was shown to me in vision. When he came to where I was, he fell dead at my feet, as if he had been struck with a thunderbolt from heaven. I was then a Priest, but God defended me and preserved my life. I speak of this because it is a principle that has been manifest in the Church of God in this generation as well as in others. I had the administration of angels while holding the office of a Priest. I had visions and revelations. I traveled thousands of miles. I baptized men, though I could not confirm them because I had not the authority to do it.” (Millennial Star, 1891, 53:641–42.)
He also said: “I desire to impress upon you the fact that it does not make any difference whether a man is a Priest or an Apostle, if he magnifies his calling. A Priest holds the keys of the ministering of angels. Never in my life, as an Apostle, as a Seventy, or as an Elder, have I ever had more of the protection of the Lord than while holding the office of a Priest. The Lord revealed to me by visions, by revelations, and by the Holy Spirit, many things that lay before me.” (Millennial Star, 1891, 53:629.)

Illustrations by Natalie Hoopes
Every day on the bus ride home from school, I would see Lenny. He always wore the same baggy T-shirt and worn-out tennis shoes, and he often had a big smile. He also had a disability. Often, the Spirit prompted me to say hello to him, but my pride stopped me.
One winter afternoon when I got on the bus, the Spirit’s promptings were especially strong, and I had a little extra courage. So when I saw Lenny in his usual spot, I decided to sit next to him. When I was almost to my stop, I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer, and then turned toward Lenny.
“Hi, I’m Ashley,” I said in an insecure but friendly voice.
He smiled at me, and all of my fear and pride melted away.
“I’m Lenny,” he shyly replied.
With those few words, a friendship began to form.
The next day, I sat next to Lenny again. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a handmade Valentine’s Day card addressed to “the pretty girl I see on the bus every day.” Valentine’s Day was long over, but Lenny had made this special card for me and had been patiently waiting for me to talk to him before giving it to me. I couldn’t help the tears from trickling down my cheeks.
Now I talk to Lenny daily. We exchange simple gifts on holidays, and we even went bowling with a group of friends. Each time I’m with Lenny, I’m reminded of the scripture in 1 John 4:18: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.” Lenny helps me remember the blessings that come from forgetting pride and having courage to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

While I am reading the Liahona, tears flow from my eyes—not just once, but many times. One article that really touched my heart was “Walking by Faith in the Philippines” in the December 2001 issue with the sidebar by Elder Duane B. Gerrard. I do feel that President Gordon B. Hinckley’s pleas in the Manila Philippines Temple dedicatory prayer were heard and will continue to be heard.Eliza O. Villamor, Santo Cristo Ward, Gapan Philippines Stake

A great playwright named Henrik Ibsen wrote a play called Peer Gynt. Peer Gynt is the story of a young Scandinavian man who grows old on the stage. He lives his life by doing whatever he wants to do. Near the end of the play he’s being chased by a button molder who is going to melt his body down and make buttons out of it so he can be used over again for something worthwhile. He runs across the frozen ground, trying to get away from this man. As he does, some small tumbleweeds get under his feet. He starts to talk to them, and he says: “Get out of my way. Off with you. You block my path.” And then something very interesting happens. The weeds talk back to him and say: “We are thoughts. You should have thought us. Feet to run on you should have given us. We should have soared up like clangorous voices, and here we must roll along as weeds.”

He kicks them out of his way and keeps running. After a while he steps on some leaves. The leaves start to talk to him and say: “We are a watchword. You should have proclaimed us. Your dozing has riddled us. Worms have gnawed us in every crevice, and we have never been able to bear fruit.”

Then the wind blows in his face. It whispers to him and says: “We’re songs. You should have sung us. A thousand times over you have cowed us down and smothered us. Down in the heart’s pit we have lain and waited, but we were never called forth.”

Peer becomes angry over these accusations, and he says, “Poison you. Have I time for verse and stuff? I am running for my life.” Then he bumps into a tree. There are dewdrops dripping from the branches. They speak to him and say, “We are tears unshed forever. Ice spears sharp and wounding. We could have melted. Now our barb is in the bosom. The wound is closed over and our power to help is gone.” Peer doesn’t like that either, but he keeps on running. Finally, he trips over some straws and falls on his face. As he’s getting up the straws start to speak and they say: “We are deeds. You should have achieved us. Doubt the throttler has crippled and torn us. On the day of judgment, we’ll come aflock and tell the story, then woe to you.”

“We are thoughts. You should have thought us.” “We are words. You should have proclaimed us.” “We are songs. You should have sung us.” “We are tears. You should have shed us.” “We are deeds. You should have achieved us.” “And on the judgment day, woe to you.”

Around this time, Tyreece’s relationship with his parents was difficult, and he acknowledges his part in the problem. “I was like, talking back, disrespectful and all that, and my parents threatened to kick me out because they couldn’t handle me.”
When Tyreece returned home from his first lesson with the missionaries, he found all his belongings strewn about. “That’s how bad my parents wanted to get rid of me,” he says. But he thought about the pamphlet the missionaries had just given him about the gospel of Jesus Christ; and remembered the invitation they had extended to him: to go home and pray to Heavenly Father. Instead of reacting to the circumstances, Tyreece says, “I just ignored it all and I just did a prayer.”
He immediately felt the Holy Spirit. The feeling came with a sense of clarity, even at such an unsettling time for him. He stayed with a friend for a few days, then decided to reach out to the missionaries, to explain his home situation and ask for advice. Within five minutes, the missionaries found him board with a family in their ward. It was then that Tyreece knew in his heart that Heavenly Father is real, and that he could put all his trust and faith in Him.

One of my earliest childhood memories is of my father, who was a blessed peacemaker, settling disputes in our family by using a Samoan saying he had learned on his mission in the South Seas a few years before. “E eseese pato,” he would say, which meant literally, “Ducks are different”—or in other words, “Each of us is unique; be tolerant. People are different, but that’s not necessarily bad.”
I feel certain that this often-repeated experience with my father was the beginning of my understanding about differences in people.

Every Sunday in a small town in Argentina, a group of people met under a tree to read the scriptures and learn about the gospel. Some of the people were members of the Church. But many of them hadn’t been baptized, and they really wanted to be!
They had a problem, though. They lived far away from other towns. No Church leaders had come to visit their town for some time.
Then they heard that some missionaries were in a town about four hours away. They all gave money so one man could buy a bus ticket to the town where the missionaries were. When he got there, he waited at the bus station. He thought that would be the best place to find the missionaries.
After a few hours, he saw two young men. They were the missionaries! He told them about the people in his town. So the missionaries and the mission president planned a trip to meet these people.
On the day that the mission president and the missionaries came, many people gathered together to meet them. Now those who hadn’t been baptized yet could get baptized. After teaching them the lessons, they were ready!
The closest river was very far away, so they pumped water from a well and filled up a portable swimming pool. It took three hours to fill the pool! In all, 27 women, men, and children got baptized that day. They were filled with joy!

One young woman remembers how her visiting teacher shared a spirit of caring, concern, and friendship with her. She had moved into a new ward at the end of her last year of law school and found herself to be the youngest member there by about 30 years. “Feeling uncomfortable and not knowing anyone,” she recalls, “I drifted into semiactivity. I would appear and disappear in Church like a shadow without exchanging words with anyone.
“In the next few weeks there appeared at my door a vibrant, good-humored, white-haired lady who announced she was my visiting teacher. I received visits from her on an almost weekly basis, many times with other sisters of the ward in tow so that I might become acquainted. [Before long] I was no longer a shadow in Church. [My visiting teacher introduced] me into a vast army of friends. After having been away from [this ward] for several years, I still count its members [as] some of my most cherished friends.”8

There once was a young boy who had a very important question. He wanted to know which church was right so he could join it. He read a promise in the Bible in James 1:5: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” The boy believed that promise. He believed that if he sincerely asked Heavenly Father which church was right, he would get an answer.
You have probably guessed that the boy’s name was Joseph Smith. He studied the scriptures and believed in the promise. He prayed and was given a wonderful answer—Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared and told him not to join any of the churches. Joseph learned for himself that the promise in James is true, that a person who lacks wisdom can pray to Heavenly Father and receive an answer. Many answers will come not from a heavenly appearance but through the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

His dreams are pinned on his feet, which are expected to carry him all the way to the 2008 Summer Olympics in Beijing, China. But even if, for some reason, his feet don’t take him to the Olympics, they will have already accomplished a great work.
His feet have put his unique name in the spotlight, bringing him numerous missionary opportunities. Because of Moroni’s success, he’s been on television a number of times—each time with his name right there on the screen.
“I’m asked about my name a lot,” says Moroni, a priest in the Mérida México Lakín Stake. “It’s a great opportunity to talk about the gospel. And when I race, the members watching always know I’m a member too—by my name. I think it’s something they’re proud of.”

I watched bicycles wobble and weave along the road, noticing that this was a first attempt for some! Some were even riding bicycles built for two!
“It is hard to ride a bicycle built for two because we can’t talk—and if we turn around to sign, well, that could be dangerous. So it’s concentration, cooperation, and full speed ahead!” commented Melanie Hansen from Orem.

“A Good Sense of Humor” by Chris Crowe in the May 1986 New Era was a good and much-needed topic. While reading it, I recalled times when I was the brunt of jokes and ridicule. But I also remembered times when my careless words really hurt.
One such time I had the opportunity to repent but never did. Now I have even forgotten the name of the person I hurt. Could you help me reach out to her?
The incident occurred in 1966 at a bus stop in Salt Lake City following a state FFA Convention. The Dixie and Hurricane chapters traveled together and cheered for the Hurricane Harvest Queen. She didn’t even place. As she boarded the bus, the losing queen had a formal gown in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She held a spray bottle of hair spray in her mouth. A few of us rowdy boys made fun of her situation. “No wonder she lost the contest!” I jeered. We had wanted her to win and were just having fun.
She cried most of the way home. Though there was an empty seat beside her, I was too fearful to go apologize for my mistake.
The years have flown. Many a time I would have relived that night, would have apologized, would have held my tongue. But that cannot be. I did learn from it, and I don’t point jokes at others anymore.
Jay BeachamIvins, Utah

Ivhan Luis Carpio Bautista, age 24, of the Richmond Hill Third Branch, Richmond Hill New York District, was working at a restaurant on the 107th floor of One World Trade Center when the attacks occurred. He had planned to take 11 September off because it was his birthday but agreed to cover a coworker’s shift instead.

I would like to thank you for Elder Delbert L. Stapley’s message on standards in the May issue. I was really becoming discouraged because many of my friends at school have low standards. This article made me thankful for who I am and for the standards that I follow.
Mary Ellen DavisColumbia, Missouri

Amelia never expected things to be free or to come easily. She knew that most important things had a price, and she always felt that if she truly wanted something, the price was worth it. When she first wanted to take flying lessons, she was living in California. Her father told her that the thousand-dollar lessons were too expensive. Instead of being discouraged, Amelia found a job at the telephone company and worked long hours to pay for the lessons.

Elder Claudio R. M. Costa
A couple serves and remains faithful in the Church despite facing multiple challenges (56).

On my mission, I saw people change as they learned the gospel. I taught people who didn’t know how to forgive, who smoked and drank liquor, who had pride, who didn’t know how to pray. Because of the gospel, they left their old ways to be worthy of what God has promised: eternal life.
Because of the Savior’s Atonement, I learned that anyone can start on or return to the strait and narrow path if they repent. The gospel of Jesus Christ will help us change and progress toward perfection and be worthy of the great blessings that Heavenly Father has prepared for us. These changes could be from sadness to happiness, from chaos to peace, from anger to forgiveness, from weakness to strength, from hatred to love.