Gospel Story Finder

I had gone to my friend’s house one day, and her mother asked me if I wanted some tea. I said, “No thanks. I don’t drink it.”
Her mother asked, “What if I make it very weak?”
I told her that I’d have to ask my mom. So I phoned my mom, and she agreed with me that drinking even weak tea would be breaking the Word of Wisdom. So I told my friend’s mom, “My mom said no.”
After that, I was happy that I followed the Word of Wisdom, and I still am. I am also glad that I am following the counsel of the prophet.
Karina Sadler, age 11Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada

Wilford Woodruff tried to always follow the prophet. Joseph Smith counseled the Apostles to keep a history. “Whenever I heard Joseph Smith preach, teach, or prophesy,” Wilford said, “I always felt it my duty to write it.” Today the Church has 7,000 pages of his record.

I grew up in Glenwood, Alberta, Canada, and attended a small school there. At that time in the Canadian school system, twelfth-grade students had to take a written Provincial test that was issued by the Department of Education. You took the same test whether you attended the largest school in Edmonton or a small school like mine, with only ten or twelve of us in the twelfth grade.
The exam included math, physics, chemistry, history, social studies, and a foreign language. I had studied French with a teacher who didn’t know how to speak it, and when I took the test, I failed to pass the French section. As a result I never received a high school diploma.
I went into the Royal Canadian Air Force after that and then served my mission. During my mission, I gained a great desire to do something more about my education, so after my release and my marriage, my wife and I came to Salt Lake City, Utah.
I took the entrance examination at the University of Utah. I scored very high in math and science but did very poorly in English. When I told the school officials that I wanted to go to law school, they told me that my poor English would make it impossible for me. Well, they knew English, but they didn’t know some things that I knew. A scripture came to my mind: “Fools mock, but they shall mourn; and my grace is sufficient for the meek, that they shall take no advantage of your weakness;
“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” (Ether 12:26–27.)
I knew what I had to do. I took every English class I could while I was a freshman and a sophomore. In addition, my wife and I made a rule. If either of us caught the other saying something incorrectly, the one making the mistake had to put a nickel in a pot. As you might imagine, most of the money in the pot was mine. But I was soon making A’s in English.
I got into law school and graduated near the top of my class, and my knowledge of English became a key to my successful thirty-four years as a lawyer. The Lord demonstrated the truth of that scripture in Ether to me, both in a spiritual sense and in a literal sense. They are not just idle words; they are the words of God.

Elder Allen had been assigned to our ward for less than two weeks when he and his companion appeared in the front office of the Daily Press at the worst possible moment on the busiest day of the week. “There are a couple of young men here to see you,” the receptionist said over the intercom. That had to mean the missionaries.
I was frantically trying to meet the deadlines of two newspapers, but I tried to slow down to a glide as I flew into the reception area. Elder Allen towered six-feet-three-inches tall. His companion, Elder Shaum, peered out from behind him. With a firm handshake and a broad smile, Elder Allen pulled me from behind the counter and greeted me simultaneously:
“Hi, Brother Reddick. I just can’t wait to see the headlines when we get done with what we’re going to do in Paso Robles,” he bubbled nonstop.
My mind was already muttering, “Okay, Elder, what have you got in mind?” The word we appeared particularly ominous, but I was too preoccupied with all those deadlines to worry seriously about interrogating him. “How am I going to explain to him in two minutes that the story the paper did last week about his transfer into the city is all that the nonmembers will want to know about Mormons for the next three months?” I asked myself.
He obviously wasn’t listening in on my thoughts at all. He rambled on about displays, speakers, programs, and activities (always inserting that foreboding we everywhere) so rapidly and with such assurance that I wondered if he thought he would convert and baptize my entire office staff on the spot!
“And the mayor is going to proclaim ‘Mormon Days,’” he finished at last. “Aha!” I thought. “Now I see the pitch and I know the way out.” I tossed right back to him the project he had just hurled at me. “You get the mayor to proclaim ‘Mormon Days,’ and I’ll see to it that you get some coverage,” I promised, confident that I had issued an impossible challenge. In a town with 30 different congregations, I figured no politician would commit himself to any undertaking quite so bold and partisan. Besides, the city council would have to ratify the proclamation.
“How do we do it?” Elder Allen asked. (I should have known by now that I was somehow a part of that infamous we.)
“Draw up your proclamation, get an appointment with the mayor, pray a lot, go in, tell him what you plan to do, and ask him to sign the proclamation,” I rattled off like machine-gun fire.
“Okay. We’ll do that then,” Elder Allen affirmed. “Thank you, Brother Reddick, and have a good day.”
I was already back to my desk and deadlines as his cheery good-day bounced out onto the sidewalk. I knew the issue was settled; at least, I’d left him holding the ball.
Sunday. Not fast Sunday, but between racing to one meeting and another, solving a home teaching family’s problem, sprinting to choir practice, and listening to the fireside speaker, I hadn’t had time to eat. And was I ever hungry! Finally the fireside ended and I arrived home to greet my wife and children and relax with a lovingly reheated supper. It was dark outside, and peaceful.
I cut the enchilada eagerly and was just about to take the first delicious bite when, like the Cheshire cat in Through the Looking Glass, Elder Allen grinned at the window. “Hi, Sister Reddick!” he chimed to my wife; then he swung over to the front door and hammered on it.
I swallowed hard as my daughter let the missionaries in. Our seventies president, Larry Adams, was with them. “Go on eating,” he urged. “We’ll watch you.” I chewed on some salad.
“We’re here for some help with the proclamation,” he continued. I was still slow to catch on that that we included me, and that Elder Allen was just trying to magnify his calling. But I couldn’t ignore Elder Allen’s enthusiasm and determination, especially when he looked right at me and said, “Since you’re so good with words, and we don’t know much about proclamations,” and took a pen and piece of paper out of his pocket, ready to jot down notes.
“So, you want my help,” I said, setting down my fork. “Do you want me to write it?”
“That’s it!” all three cheered triumphantly. So we drew up a proclamation, with all the appropriate whereases in it, leading up to a “now therefore be it resolved” that such-and-such a series of days be proclaimed “Mormon Days” in Paso Robles. By the time we were done, it was almost curfew time for the elders. My half-eaten supper was stone cold. My salad was limp, my appetite gone. And I had to be at the office early in the morning.
Monday is supposed to be the elders’ preparation day. But first thing Monday morning Elders Allen and Shaum were in City Hall, setting up an appointment to see the mayor on Tuesday. I still don’t know exactly what went on in the mayor’s office. Not only did he agree to sign the proclamation, but he was enthusiastic about it! (“You Mormons do great things,” he told the elders.)
I had been humbled. These two young men had responded to the promptings of the Spirit in the face of odds that had seemed overwhelming to me. I worked with them on this project and others in the weeks to come, and I learned that they were not fearless. Rather, they subjected their fears to faith. And they moved mountains.
By the time “Mormon Days” actually got through planning and approval by stake authorities, it had become “Family Days,” and the proclamation had been altered slightly. More time had also been allowed for putting together the three-day “show.”
Elders Allen and Shaum assembled displays on boards and tables, and secured permission from the most patronized supermarket in town to set up their displays there for three days and to distribute handbills and tracts.
The highlight of the days was a Thursday evening presentation in a local school. We had a movie on family communications, and we had two families from our ward conduct a special family home evening. The missionaries had their displays out, and, yes, there was publicity—not only in the paper, but on the radio as well. Later, we put on the same program in Shandon, a small town east of Paso Robles. Through the two programs and the displays at the supermarket, more than 200 people came into a direct, one-on-one contact with the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Who knows what fruit those seeds will bear?

Paul’s wife, Julie, has also helped him see temple service in a deeper way. His assignment as an Area Seventy required his presences at many stake conferences, and when he would return home, Julie often asked, “How was the conference?” He would reply, “Great.”
When she asked, “How were your talks?” he would say, “I think they went well.” Julie, ever insightful, would passionately respond, “I’m sure it all went well; however, giving a great talk from the pulpit is not really the hard work.” Stunned, Paul would listen as she continued: “The real work is done when hearts are touched, and the work of the Lord is accomplished in the homes of members and within the Lord’s house.”

“World War II was a time of great spiritual turmoil for me. I had left my home in Brigham City, Utah, with only embers of a testimony, and I felt the need for something more. … While stationed on the island of Ie Shima, just north of Okinawa, Japan, I struggled with doubt and uncertainty. I wanted a personal testimony of the gospel. I wanted to know!
“During one sleepless night, I left my tent and entered a bunker which had been formed by lining up 50-gallon fuel drums filled with sand and placed one on top of the other to form an enclosure. There was no roof, and so I crawled in, looked up at the star-filled sky, and knelt to pray.
“Almost mid-sentence it happened. I could not describe to you what happened if I were determined to do so. It is beyond my power of expression, but it is as clear today as it was that night more than 65 years ago. I knew it to be a very private, very individual manifestation. At last I knew for myself. I knew for a certainty, for it had been given to me. After some time, I crawled from that bunker and walked, or floated, back to my bed. I spent the rest of the night in a feeling of joy and awe.
“Far from thinking I was someone special, I thought that if such a thing came to me, that it could come to anyone. I still believe that.”

A latter-day example of willful rebellion with a happier ending is the story of William W. Phelps. Phelps joined the Church in 1831 and was appointed Church printer. He edited several early Church publications, wrote numerous hymns, and served as a scribe to Joseph Smith. Unfortunately, he turned against the Church and the Prophet, even to the point of giving false testimony against Joseph Smith in a Missouri court, which contributed to the Prophet’s imprisonment there.

Later, Phelps wrote to Joseph asking for forgiveness. “I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me.”

In his reply the Prophet stated: “It is true that we have suffered much in consequence of your behavior. … However, the cup has been drunk, the will of our Heavenly Father has been done, and we are yet alive. … Come on, dear brother, since the war is past, for friends at first are friends again at last.”

With sincere repentance, William Phelps buried his “weapons of rebellion” and was received once more in full fellowship, never again to fall away.

One day when President Hinckley was about five years old, he was sitting on his front porch with some friends. A family of another race walked down the street in front of the house. Young Gordon and his friends made some unkind remarks about the people. His mother heard what they said, and she took them inside to talk with them. She told them that all people are sons and daughters of God. That day he learned that we must respect and help one another, regardless of race, religion, wealth, or anything else.

“What is the most important thing you have ever learned in your life?” we quizzed Cynthia on her eighteenth birthday. Without hesitating she seriously answered, “To build your life on the Lord Jesus Christ. To put your faith and trust in him, to draw on his power, to depend on your relationship with him to pull you through collapsed dreams, disappointments, and disillusionments. It gives you the security you need. It helps you understand and know who you really are, not who other people say or think you are.”
For those brief moments we felt well-rewarded, relieved, and somewhat astounded that, after all, some things were getting through.
But the final test is not over yet. We experience disappointments also. It is not easy. It is a continual struggle, a constant effort. But we are very encouraged that law, not luck, governs, and that we can obey law if we so choose.

One dear sister had been a faithful member of the Church all her life. But she carried a personal sorrow. Years before, her daughter had died after a short illness, and the wounds from this tragedy still haunted her. She agonized over the profound questions that accompany an event such as this. She frankly admitted that her testimony wasn’t what it used to be. She felt that unless the heavens parted for her, she would never be able to believe again.

So she found herself waiting.

I hurried home that afternoon because there was someone I wanted to speak to. When I got back to the farm, the first place I headed for was the Happy Rock. It was out of sight of the house and was an ideal spot for what I was about to do. Dropping to my knees, I opened my mouth to pray, but nothing came out. My heart was thumping. Finally, in desperation, I cried out, “Oh God, where are you?”
From a million miles away, deep within my own mind, I heard the glorious tones of an orchestra. The music grew louder, until it crashed over my being like a wave from the ocean. Then, as clearly as any spoken voice, I heard the words of a favorite carol: “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: ‘God is not dead, nor doth he sleep . …’”

—Melanie Finch, 20, of Idaho Falls, “always wanted to be a nurse.” But after candy striping and a high school vocational program which earned her status as a Certified Nurse’s Assistant, Melanie switched to another field.
“In nursing, you have to associate with just about every kind of person in the world, and have compassion for them all. I found out that’s not always easy to do.”
A year later, however, she became a nursing student again.
“I did a lot of growing during that year,” she said. “I realized just how important it is to take care of people, even if it is hard and dirty. Now I’m dedicated to helping others. And I’m happy to know I’m helping people who really need the help.”

Brendon P., 17, from Wyoming, USA, picks up his friend Kenly for seminary each morning. Kenly, who has Down syndrome, does not have her own driver’s license, so she cannot drive herself to seminary.

“Billy! Time to get up, or you’ll be late for school,” called Mother.
Billy Burke snuggled farther down under the warm quilt and wished that he didn’t have to get up. It was raining, and rainy days are nice times to burrow down in bed and sleep.
“Billy, do you hear me? I don’t want to have to come up there and get you. Hurry now, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Yes, Mother, I’m coming.”
Billy knew his mother didn’t want him to be late for school, but his horse, Brownie, could be depended on to get him there before the bell rang.
Living seven miles out in the country was fun most of the time. However, it meant that he had to get up earlier in the morning than the other kids and that he didn’t have as much time to play after school. He had his own horse to ride, though, and Billy thought he was about the luckiest ten-year-old boy in the county.
While Mrs. Burke piled hotcakes onto Billy’s plate, she said, “I want you to start early this morning because of the rain.”
Billy couldn’t understand why his mother never liked the rain when there was so little of it in this dry land. Nevertheless, he ate his breakfast quickly and went outside to the barn. Brownie stood in his stall, hunched against the chilly dampness. When Billy tried to put the saddle on Brownie, the horse shied away. “Stand still, Brownie. Do you want us to be late for school?”
Brownie usually liked the walk to school and the attention he got from the other children. Sometimes someone would bring him an apple or some carrots. But Brownie was behaving in a most peculiar way this morning.
“I know what’s the matter with you—you’re afraid the rain’ll make you rust, aren’t you? Well, it won’t,” Billy said as he tightened the cinch. As Billy rode out of the yard, he gave a quick wave to his mother.
The road followed the river up a narrow, steep canyon for the first two of the seven miles to town. There was no place to go in case of trouble except up the canyon walls—and that was where Brownie was going now!
“Brownie! Have you gone loco? Stay on the road.”
The usually obedient horse had a mind of his own this morning. Laying back his ears, he kept trying to climb the steep canyon wall, slipping and sliding on the loose stones. Billy did something that he had seldom done before—he smacked the little horse on the rump with the ends of the reins.
Ignoring Billy’s irritation, Brownie continued to scramble up the steep slope. The rain had seeped into the ground enough so that it was very difficult for the horse to keep his footing. Gooey mud tugged at his hooves, and the rocks were bruising his legs, but he kept struggling upward.
“Brownie! Please! I have to get to school. You know Mrs. Thompson gets cross if anyone is late. Now, come on. Please!”
Brownie slipped and went to his knees, then regained his footing and climbed frantically toward the top of the canyon walls.
Billy was getting scared. Brownie had never acted this way before. Realizing that he could not make the horse go back down to the road, Billy let the horse have his way. Once on the brow of the hill, Brownie headed straight home.
“Why aren’t you in school?” Mother asked.
“Brownie had other ideas, Mother. I couldn’t make him stay on the road.”
“Something must be wrong. Brownie never behaved that way before, and he’s trembling,” Mother said as she stroked Brownie’s neck. “Billy, why don’t you go inside, put some dry clothes on, and have a cup of cocoa. I’ll take care of Brownie.”
Suddenly, with a roar that shook the earth, a torrent of water surged down the river and through the canyon. It moved boulders as if they were pebbles, and great fingers of water reached out and grabbed trees and brush, devouring them in huge, gluttonous bites.
Billy turned and shouted above the roar, “Mother, what’s happening?”
“The river is flooding. There must have been a cloudburst in the mountains, and it’s just now reaching here. The farther it goes, the faster and more furiously it rages. You’d never have made it to school if Brownie had stayed in the canyon!” Mother declared.
Later, after Billy and his mother had thanked Heavenly Father for their safety, Billy helped her peel apples in the warm, cheerful kitchen.
“Well, now, apple pie sounds good on a cold, wet day like this, doesn’t it?” Mother asked.
“It sure does,” Billy answered as he went out the kitchen door with a bowlful of apple peelings. “And this ‘apple pie’ is for the smartest and bravest horse that ever set foot on this earth!”

In time, Martin returned from Palmyra and took over as scribe, giving Emma a chance to rest before the baby came.25 But rest did not come easy. Martin’s wife, Lucy, had insisted on coming with him to Harmony, and both Harrises had strong personalities.26 Lucy was suspicious of Martin’s desire to support Joseph financially and was angry that he had gone to New York City without her. When he told her he was going to Harmony to help with translation, she had invited herself along, determined to see the plates.
Lucy was losing her hearing, and when she could not understand what people were saying, she sometimes thought they were criticizing her. She also had little sense of privacy. After Joseph refused to show her the plates, she started searching the house, rifling through the family’s chests, cupboards, and trunks. Joseph had little choice but to hide the plates in the woods.27
Lucy soon left the house and lodged with a neighbor. Emma had her chests and cupboards to herself again, but now Lucy was telling the neighbors that Joseph was out to get Martin’s money. After weeks of causing trouble, Lucy went home to Palmyra.
With peace restored, Joseph and Martin translated quickly. Joseph was growing into his divine role as a seer and revelator. Looking into the interpreters or another seer stone, he was able to translate whether the plates were in front of him or wrapped in one of Emma’s linen cloths on the table.28
Throughout April, May, and early June, Emma listened to the rhythm of Joseph dictating the record.29 He spoke slowly but clearly, pausing occasionally to wait for Martin to say “written” after he had caught up to what Joseph had said.30 Emma also took turns as scribe and was amazed how after interruptions and breaks, Joseph always picked up where he left off without any prompting.31

“After I was baptized and received the Aaronic Priesthood, I started blessing the sacrament in sacrament meeting. Heavenly Father asks me to serve His children, and it’s my honor to do so. I know that if we follow God’s instructions and fulfill our duty, we can bless others and develop our spiritual strength in coming unto Christ.”
Chris L., 17, Shaanxi, China

In April 1844, President Joseph Smith called the Twelve Apostles to serve missions in the Eastern United States.
Joseph Smith: All of the Apostles except Willard Richards and John Taylor are called as missionaries to continue preaching the gospel.
Wilford Woodruff had already served as a missionary in England and America, but he was obedient to the Prophet. He packed his things and got ready to travel.
When he went to say good-bye to the Prophet, Elder Woodruff could tell that he was sad. Elder Woodruff felt sad too even though he didn’t know why.
Joseph Smith: You are about to start upon your mission. God bless you, Brother Woodruff. Go in peace.
Two months later, Elder Woodruff was preaching the gospel in Maine when he heard some terrible news.
Woman: Have you heard, Elder Woodruff? The Prophet has been killed! Joseph Smith has been shot in Carthage Jail!
Elder Woodruff immediately left to meet with the other Apostles in Nauvoo.
Elder Woodruff: Now I know why I was so sad before. That was the last time I would ever see the Prophet Joseph Smith here on earth.
Although many Saints were worried that the Church would not be able to go on without the Prophet Joseph Smith, Elder Woodruff was not afraid. He was asked to go and comfort the Saints in Europe and lead them until a new prophet was called.
Elder Woodruff: Though our Prophet has been killed because of his testimony, the keys of the kingdom of God are still here upon earth. The heavens are not closed.
Elder Woodruff: Heavenly Father will still speak to us and direct His disciples. Be humble and faithful, and the Lord will bless you.

Blue Feather’s Vision: The Dawn of Colonial America Blue Feather is an old chief, the revered Keeper of the Wampum. But his wisdom is rejected by the young braves of his village—even by his own children.James E. Knight9–12 years

The youth of the Idaho Falls Idaho Eagle Rock Stake (left and below) shared their talents and their testimonies as they performed a musical called One Life to celebrate the Prophet Joseph Smith’s birth and life. The musical was so successful that they performed it multiple times for audiences in Idaho.
Krista Klingler, 14, who participated in the ensemble, said, “Doing this play was one of the best experiences of my life. It showed me how great a man Joseph Smith truly was. I am still amazed that at 14 years old he acted upon the principles Heavenly Father revealed to him. From birth to death he lived a remarkable life.”

Explain that when we have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we allow Him to lead us, even if we can’t understand where we are going. Make an obstacle course in the Primary room using chairs, tables, and other items. (You may want to label your path with good things such as baptism and bad things such as dishonesty.) Select one child to walk the path. Next ask for a volunteer to be blindfolded. Let him or her go through the path. Then ask for a volunteer to be blindfolded, but explain that you are going to rearrange the obstacle course. Ask him or her to choose a friend who will not be blindfolded to be a guide. Have the two children leave the room with a member of the Primary presidency for a moment. Rearrange the obstacle course. Let the friend guide the blindfolded child through the course. The guide can use verbal instructions and gently hold the child’s arm. Explain that the obstacle course is like our lives. As we journey through life we need to choose a guide we know we can trust. The best guide is Jesus Christ. Bear testimony that we do not need to see Him to know that He loves us and guides us.