Gospel Story Finder

June 27 of this year marks the 150th anniversary of that solemn event when the first prophet of this dispensation sealed his testimony of the Restoration with his blood. I testify that he was a prophet of God. I have seen the Lord convert people to His plan of salvation through the testimony of the Prophet Joseph. Many years ago I served as the president of the Canadian Mission. In the city of Oshawa, Ontario, Canada, two of our missionaries were proselyting door-to-door on a cold, snowy afternoon. They had not had any measure of success. One was experienced, one was new.
The two called at the home of Mr. Elmer Pollard, and he, feeling sympathy for the almost frozen missionaries, invited them in. They presented their message and asked if he would join them in prayer. He agreed, on the provision that he could offer the prayer.
The prayer he offered astonished the missionaries. He said, “Heavenly Father, bless these two unfortunate, misguided missionaries, that they may return to their homes and not waste their time telling the people of Canada about a message which is so fantastic and about which they know so little.”
As they arose from their knees, Mr. Pollard asked the missionaries never to return to his home. As they left, he mockingly said to them, “You can’t tell me you really believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, anyway!” and he shut the door.
The missionaries had walked but a short distance when the junior companion said, “Elder, we didn’t answer Mr. Pollard.”
The senior companion said, “We’ve been evicted. Let’s move on to greener territory.”
The young missionary persisted, however, and the two returned to Mr. Pollard’s door. Mr. Pollard answered the knock and angrily said, “I thought I told you young men never to return!”
The junior companion then said, with all the courage he could muster, “Mr. Pollard, when we left your door, you said that we didn’t really believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I want to testify to you, Mr. Pollard, that I know Joseph Smith is a prophet of God; that by inspiration he translated the sacred record known as the Book of Mormon; that he did see God the Father and Jesus the Son.” The missionaries then departed the doorstep.
I heard this same Mr. Pollard, in a testimony meeting, state the experiences of that memorable day. He said: “That evening, sleep would not come. I tossed and turned. Over and over in my mind I heard the words, ‘Joseph Smith is a prophet of God. I know it … I know it … I know it.’ I could scarcely wait for morning to come. I telephoned the missionaries, using the address which was printed on the small card containing the Articles of Faith that they had left with me. They returned; and this time, with the correct spirit, my wife and family and I joined in the discussion as earnest seekers of truth. As a result, we have all embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ. We shall ever be grateful to the testimony of truth brought to us by courageous, humble missionaries.”

Dad: No, we can fast whenever we want to or whenever we need special blessings for ourselves or others. Remember when Aunt Kathy had cancer? The whole family fasted and prayed for her. She was given a special blessing, too, and the operation and the treatments she had were successful.

There’s no doubt about it. Moving can be tough on teenagers. It was a challenge for priests Andrew and Jared Mackaroy (here with their older brother, younger sister, and younger brother), who moved with their family from South Africa to New Zealand.
If it weren’t for the Church, they don’t know how they could ever have successfully made the move. “Seminary, the Church meetings and programs, even the New Era—they’re all the same all over the world,” says Jared.

“She is the first one to start singing ‘I Love to See the Temple’ whenever we drive past one,” her mom says. When Karissa visited her Grandma and Grandpa Burrup in Richland, Washington, she was able to see the Columbia River Washington Temple being built. The construction workers offered her a piece of granite from the temple walls to take home.

About this time, a second miraculous reunion occurred. On one of my monthly business trips to Portland, Oregon, approximately four hundred kilometers from our home in Seattle, Washington, I checked into a hotel I had never used before. To my amazement, the luggage attendant that assisted me with my bags was Deuce’s long-lost twin brother, whom we had believed to be dead.
Ace was overjoyed to see an old friend and to learn the whereabouts of his twin brother. A reunion was quickly arranged, and Ace, divorced and living alone, welcomed the opportunity to provide a home for Deuce.
My family kept close contact with “Uncle Deuce” until his death, prematurely brought on by his frailties and years of drinking. But he had found the gospel and had made many wholesome and eternal friendships.

“I’m glad I’m not a pioneer,” Amelia said. “Aren’t you, Nanny?”

Nanny thought for a moment. “I know I wasn’t born in the olden days, and I wasn’t born in another country. Nor did I go on a long walk like some other pioneers. But I’m still a pioneer.”

Amelia was amazed. “A pioneer? Why are you a pioneer?”

“Because when the missionaries taught me the gospel, I decided to join the Church, just like the early Church pioneers did,” Nanny explained. “Some of my family and friends were angry that I chose to obey Heavenly Father. Like other pioneers, I had to leave my home and go somewhere else to live.”

“Were you sad?” Amelia asked.

“Yes, I felt very sad,” Nanny said. “But I’m glad I was a pioneer, because Poppy and our children—including your mum—are all members of Jesus Christ’s true Church. And I’m also happy, Amelia, because you too are learning about Heavenly Father and Jesus and the right way to live.”

I remember a family I knew fifty years ago. The wife was a devoted member of the Church. The husband was not a member. He smoked and drank. She hoped and she prayed. She lived for the day when his heart might be touched by the Spirit of the Lord. Years passed one after another into more than a decade. Her example was one of goodness and gladness and faith. After many years he began to soften. He saw what the Church did for her and for their children. He turned around. He humbled himself. He was baptized. He has since served as a quorum president and a bishop, as a missionary, and as a worker in the temple.

Dr. Audrey Tarr and her husband, David, had been living in Oregon, where she practiced obstetrics and gynecology with an additional specialty in urology. She and David, a recently retired engineer, were trying to figure out what was next for them.
“I had thought about sometime in the future serving as an area medical advisor for one of the many missions in the Church,” said Dr. Tarr. “But we got a call from Church headquarters with this opportunity to serve now as a practicing physician.”
She felt it was especially important for her to come, as she is a female physician who has worked to build awareness of health issues unique to women. Dr. Tarr is concerned about the high cancer rates among women in American Samoa and plans to help the Department of Health improve health prospects for local women.
While they are in American Samoa, Elder David Tarr—a seasoned aerospace engineer—is serving with the engineering and maintenance team at the hospital. He says life as a missionary has been interesting. “Since I wear my missionary badge, everyone knows I am a member of the Church. It’s been a great chance to answer questions from others and share spiritual experiences I have had.”

My sister and I had the day off from school. We were trying to find something to do. We each wanted to play a different game. My sister usually lets me play the game I want, so I played her game with her because I love her. I know Jesus would want us to play fair and show our love to others, even when it’s something we don’t really want to do.

When I got back from my mission and went to Brigham Young University, my bishop, Reid Bankhead, had a great impact on my life. He taught about Christ and urged us to read the scriptures daily, especially the Book of Mormon. Ezra Taft Benson was one of my heroes even then, long before I knew that he’d be our prophet and make studying the Book of Mormon one of the key elements of his ministry. I doubt that a year has gone by since then in which I haven’t read the Book of Mormon.

How perfect to lie all snug in bed,
With covers to my nose,
Blankets warmly tucked about me
Down to my pointed toes!
Outside, the snow pours swiftly down
And swirls against the pane.
It slides across the frozen pond
And shrouds our tree-lined lane.
A sniff of toast tugs at my nose,
Yet, tucked abed I stay
Because the radio just announced,
“All schools are closed today.”

I had recently returned home from a full-time mission and was blessed to find a job that would enable me to save money for college tuition. I was eager to be productive so my employer would hire other returned missionaries.
My work was simple: I did whatever odd jobs needed to be done for a construction engineering company. This often meant performing simple laboratory tests. On one particular day, I was scheduled to pick up samples of construction materials from several sites and return them to the lab. I was given an old truck to make my rounds, and off I went.
I arrived at the first site, greeted the foreman, and quickly found the samples of concrete and steel. After placing them in the truck, I reached into my pocket for the truck key. To my alarm, my pocket was empty. I checked the ignition and took a quick look around the truck cab but did not find the key. It occurred to me that I might have dropped it while walking through the construction site. As I retraced my steps, I said a silent prayer, but I still couldn’t find the key.
I then searched the truck more thoroughly, even looking under the floor mats. No key. I bowed my head and sincerely prayed, explaining that I wanted to be productive and not be delayed at the first stop of the day. I began searching again while listening for an answer to my prayer. I felt an impression to look under the truck, so I took a quick, doubting glance at the ground near my feet. I still saw no key, so I decided to make another trip around the construction site.
When I returned to the truck, I was still empty-handed. How could I tell my new employer that I had lost the key and hadn’t been able to complete such an easy task? I quietly said one more prayer, and the impression to look under the truck came again. I gave another quick glance, and when I didn’t see the key, I was about to push the impression away. But then I decided to take a few steps away from the truck and look again.
Suddenly I saw it! It must have fallen when I got out of the truck. It was just far enough under the truck that I hadn’t seen it the first two times I looked. I was ashamed that I hadn’t listened better to the promptings of the Spirit.
That day and many times since, I have reflected on how patiently and lovingly the Spirit works with me. When we sing, “I know my Father lives and loves me too” (“I Know My Father Lives,” Hymns, no. 302), my heart swells. I am amazed that our Father loves us so much that He will answer our simplest prayers.

Last year in school, there was a new kid named Ricky. He had moved into our neighborhood and was starting school in America for the first time. Our teacher asked me and two other kids if we would help him learn English.
Every day the four of us would sit down and review words on flashcards and talk with him. At recess I invited Ricky to play with me and my friends. He liked playing kickball. After a while I asked Ricky if he wanted to play soccer too, and he said yes. So he started playing soccer with me and all my friends at recess.
We became good friends, and he came to my house after school a few times. Ricky is really good at math. He helped me with my math assignments. I have gotten better at math because of our friendship. Now after a year and a half, he speaks English very well. He’s able to help his mom communicate with others when she does her errands.
This year Ricky isn’t in my class, but we play together at recess every day. I really like being friends with Ricky. I learned that by helping others, I am serving Heavenly Father and am also blessed by serving others. Ricky has helped me in ways I didn’t know he could when I was asked to help him learn English.
I know that we need to be willing to do all we can to help our family members and friends. When we do this, we’re helping Heavenly Father and we will have good experiences. We are Heavenly Father’s hands on earth, and when we’re willing to help, we’ll be able to help those that Heavenly Father needs us to help.

It was a pleasant August evening in Wyoming’s Wind River Range mountains. My family and I were hours away from civilization and six miles from our car. It was the last night of our three-day backpacking excursion, and none of us felt ready to hike the six long miles back to our car the next morning. As the cool of the night settled on our camp, my mom placed a pot of water on the stove to boil for hot chocolate. While waiting for the cocoa, my toddler sister dragged me into the woods for a game of hide-and-seek. When it grew dark, we decided to head back to camp.
As soon as we set foot in our campsite, a loud clang broke the silence of the night. Screams erupted in front of me. I looked up and saw my six-year-old sister, Hannah, standing near the pot that had held the boiling water. The water had fallen onto her leg, causing a gruesome second-degree burn that began to blister. Immediately, my parents dumped bottle after bottle of cold water on her leg. Whimpering, she was carried by my parents to the tent.
My siblings and I separated and each prayed for our sister. As I prayed, I felt comfort that Hannah would be OK. When we met back in camp, our family gathered in prayer and my dad gave Hannah a priesthood blessing. In it, he promised her that she would have the ability to hike the trail to the car with only minimal pain or discomfort. I looked at the red blister on her leg. It would take a miracle for his promise to be fulfilled, but I trusted in Heavenly Father to heal her.
Morning came bright and early. We took down camp except the tent where Hannah still slept. Then after gently waking her, our anxious family stood by to see whether or not she would be able to walk. We watched her take a first step and then a second. With only a slight limp, she walked out the tent door. We knew our prayers had been answered. True to the promise given in her blessing, Hannah hiked almost the full six miles to the car “with only minimal pain or discomfort.”
In Doctrine and Covenants 42:48, the Lord promises us, “He that hath faith in me to be healed … shall be healed.” I have seen the fulfillment of this promise. I know that through faith, Hannah was able to hike through the mountains without pain. My testimony of the power of the priesthood has grown tremendously from this experience. I will be eternally grateful to my Father in Heaven for the mercy he showed to a six-year-old girl in the wilderness.

Years ago I had responsibility for our work in Asia. I visited Okinawa many times when there were American servicemen stationed there in large numbers. Some of them had cars, and I noted that most of those cars were badly rusted. There were holes in the fenders. There were holes in the side panels. Whatever paint was left was dull. All of this was the result of corrosive ocean salt which was carried by the wind and which ate through the metal.

That is the way pornography is. This sleazy filth is like corrosive salt. It will eat through your armor if you expose yourselves to it.

When someone remembers your name, it can make you feel important and loved. I’ve experienced this over the years, most specifically through an elders quorum president. He always remembers my name and the names of those he meets, helping me feel the Christlike love he has for me and everyone he serves.

“Time to get up,” Mom called cheerfully.
I rolled over and pretended I didn’t hear her. That’s what I do when I don’t want to get up.
Mom didn’t give up. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” she called. “Anyone who wants to eat had better hurry.”
That got my brother going. “Come on,” Devon said, giving my bed a shake.
“I’m not hungry,” I muttered.
“Suit yourself.” He headed for the kitchen.
It was true. I wasn’t hungry. In fact, my stomach kind of ached. Maybe I should tell Mom I’m sick, I thought. That’s it—I’m sick and need to stay home.
A few minutes later I got my chance.
“Devon says you’re not hungry.” Mom sat down on the edge of my bed. “Are you feeling all right?” She put her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“I’m not sick,” I answered truthfully, “but I don’t feel so good.”
At first Mom looked puzzled, then she understood. “Are you nervous about your talk?”
“I’m not just nervous,” I said. “I was nervous last night when I went to bed. Then I dreamed that when I got up to give my talk I couldn’t find my notes, and I couldn’t remember anything. It was awful!”
Mom shook her head. “I’m sorry you had a bad dream, but it was just a dream. You’re going to do fine.”
“Can’t we say I’m sick?” I asked. But I knew Mom would never go for that.
“Come have some breakfast,” she said, pulling the blankets off me. “You’ll feel better.”
I knew the only thing that was going to make me feel better was telling the Primary president I was too sick to give a talk. Mary Kay could give two talks. She gives talks all the time. She even enjoys giving talks. I started to say something, but Mom gave me one of those “don’t even try it” looks.
“Good morning,” Dad said happily as I slumped into my chair.
“Morning,” I grumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to call it a good morning.
Dad looked at me quizzically.
“Jeremy’s a bit worried about his talk,” Mom explained.
“I see,” Dad said. “Is there anything I can do to help? I’d be happy to listen if you want to practice before we go to church.”
I shook my head. Practicing my talk in front of my dad wouldn’t help. I ate a little before I asked to be excused.
“We’re really proud of you, you know,” Mom said as I rinsed my plate. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be the first one in our family to speak in church.”
“I’m sure we’ll all get a turn eventually,” Dad said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” Devon asked anxiously.
“Just that speaking in church is something Latter-day Saints do,” Dad replied. “We don’t have a pastor who gives a sermon every week like we used to. The members take turns giving talks instead.”
Devon shook his head. “I don’t ever want to give a talk.” He looked at me. “Who said you had to give a talk?”
“Nobody did. My teacher asked our class who wanted to give talks. Two of us raised our hands,” I explained.
“You mean you volunteered?” Devon was shocked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I wish I’d kept quiet.”
Mom squeezed my shoulder. “You’re going to do great. Now go get dressed for church.”
Some time later I hurried to find Dad. “Dad, will you tie my tie? I’ve tried three times, and I still can’t get it right.”
“I’d be happy to.” He wrapped my tie around his neck and tied a perfect knot. My tie looked pretty funny on him. It was way too short. He slid the tie up over his head, then pulled it down over mine.
“Thanks,” I said. I pulled my talk out of my shirt pocket and started to read through it for the zillionth time.
I sat through sacrament meeting, quietly reading my notes over and over. It wasn’t until I saw Mary Kay watching me that I put them back into my pocket.
When I reached the Primary room, I walked up to the chairs at the front of the room. On the way, I stopped at the podium to make sure I was tall enough to see over it without standing on the stool the little kids use.
As I looked out over the podium, I saw my mom and dad sitting in the back of the room. I hadn’t asked them to come, but I wasn’t surprised to see them. What did surprise me was that Devon was with them. He was missing Sunday School to hear me talk! I wasn’t sure if I was pleased or not.
Mary Kay sat down next to me. “Are you nervous?” she asked.
I tried to look calm. “Are you?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ve given lots of talks, but I still get nervous.” She held out her hands to show me that they were shaking.
“Then why do you volunteer?” I asked.
Mary Kay shrugged. “I think talking in church is a good thing to do. I think it’s important to tell people what you believe. Don’t you?”
“I guess so,” I said. “I’ve never given a talk before.”
Mary Kay looked shocked. “Really?”
“In my old church, the pastor did all the preaching,” I explained.
“It’s all right, once you get going,” Mary Kay said with a smile.
Primary started, so we stopped talking. I felt surprisingly calm. Somehow, knowing that Mary Kay got nervous when she gave a talk made me feel better.
After the opening song and prayer, the Primary president announced that Mary Kay and I would be giving talks. Mary Kay went first. I had a hard time listening to her talk. I kept going over my talk in my mind. I was startled when I heard her say, “Amen.”
“Good luck,” she whispered as I passed her on my way to the podium.
I pulled the notes out of my pocket and began.
“This is the first time I’ve given a talk in church,” I began. “In fact, it’s the first time anyone in my family has given a talk in church.” I looked at my family. They were all smiling at me.
I went on to tell of all the ways my life had changed since we were baptized. I talked about reading the Book of Mormon. I told about when the missionaries taught my family.
Then I talked about learning to pray, how glad I was when I learned that Heavenly Father wants us to pray, and how I knew that He listens to and answers our prayers.
I was almost finished when I realized my notes were still clenched tightly in my hand. I hadn’t even needed them! I thanked my parents and Devon for joining the Church with me and told them I loved them. That part wasn’t even in my notes. Then I ended my talk, “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As I sat down, I was filled with relief and joy.
“You did great!” Mary Kay whispered.
“Thanks,” I said, blushing slightly.
I looked back at my family. Devon and Dad smiled. Mom had tears running down her cheeks. I could tell they were happy tears.
When singing time began, I watched my family slip quietly out the back door to go to their classes. It was then I decided that the next time it was my class’s turn to give talks, I would volunteer again.

Dallas Howard represented Utah in the National Junior Miss Pageant where she won the national Kodak Award for a pictorial essay. Her photographs were of three pairs of hands: infant, grown, and elderly. Her poem that accompanied the photos was based on a verse from Ecclesiastes.
Dallas is a member of the Orem 55th Ward, Orem Utah Stake.
This is her poem:
It impresses me that
“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Eccl. 3:1).
A time of beginning—new, grasping, innocent, growing, me, mine, tender, small, possessive—Sunrise.
A time of reaching—expanding, sharing adventure, two, love, ours, vigor, becoming, serving, plans, time—Noonday.
A time of fulfilling—resting, experience, memories, knowing, peace, character, wise, harvest, one, but not alone—Sunset.
“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun” (Eccl. 1:9).

Each week Melissa looks at the family home evening chart to see what her assignment will be. When it’s her turn to give the lesson, she likes to use the Friend magazine. “If I use the Friend, I don’t need any help from my mom or dad,” Melissa explains. She often invites a friend to share family home evening with her family. One of her friends enjoyed coming so much that she asked her parents if they could have their own family night.

You probably don’t remember much about learning to walk. In the beginning, you might have fallen down a lot. But when you fell, you weren’t scolded. Most likely, someone who loves you picked you up and cheered you on again and again to keep trying! Over time, putting one foot in front of the other became more natural. Now you can avoid most situations that would trip you up.