Gospel Story Finder

All families should regularly hold council meetings to discuss such things as how to adjust the budget to include carpet for the living room, assigning responsibilities for the garden’s care, how to spend the summer vacation—so that together the family can arrive at workable solutions. One father called a special family council the night it was determined that a grandmother’s leg must be amputated. There were many tears, and there were fond recollections of how full of activity her life had been up to then.
Quickly the family decided that grandmother should be invited to live with them. It was then the mother wisely said, “If she comes, let’s make her a queen in our home. We can put her bed right here in the family room so she won’t miss anything.” The compassionate attitude of the mother prevailed in that home. It led the way for all of the family. It blessed the grandmother as long as she lived with them, which she did until she died; it enhanced the lives of all the members of that family; there was greater unity, cooperation, and togetherness than they had known before.

The young couple glanced at each other anxiously as the four distinguished-looking brethren entered their home and seated themselves on the sofa. The mother gently rocked the twin babies she had delivered two months previously, while the two older children, ages three and five, stared inquisitively at these men who had such earnest faces.

Now the stake president spoke: "Sister, how would you feel if we told you the Lord has called your husband to be the bishop of a brand new ward in Zion?"

She looked at those four little children, her mind anticipating the added responsibilities she would have as her husband attended to his bishop’s duties. Without hesitation she replied, "If that’s what the Lord wants, I’ll support my husband every way that I can."

Her young husband had thought such a call might come to him someday—perhaps in his forties or fifties after he had adequately prepared himself. But now he was scarcely thirty. Although the Spirit had alerted him a few days previously that the call would come, still he felt totally inadequate and completely overwhelmed.

He spent several sleepless nights contemplating the magnitude of the call. How does one go about organizing a new ward? How could he be sure whom the Lord desired for his counselors, Relief Society officers and teachers, home teachers, Sunday School teachers, ward choir director, or editor of the ward newspaper? He could not get rid of a disquieting, hollow feeling.

Then, a few days later, all the bishops in the stake met with the stake presidency. Older, experienced bishops shared their counsel and recommendations. The young bishop received handbooks of instruction, a bishop’s training manual, priesthood bulletins, and other helpful materials. Members of the stake presidency shared wise counsel, the result of rich experience laboring in a variety of capacities in the Church. All the brethren knelt in prayer together and invoked the Spirit of the Lord to guide and direct them in their stewardships as "… common judge among the inhabitants of Zion …" (D&C 107:74) in Israel.

Later, the bishop recalled that as he drove home that day, he felt strongly the presence of the Spirit. Just as one’s limbs tingle when he sits in an awkward position too long and the blood rushes into a hand or foot that has "gone to sleep," the infusion of the Spirit was physically perceptible. Confidence and comfort came to him. He was now as in D&C 58:27) "… anxiously engaged in a good cause …" in the Lord’s work.

During the years that followed, the bishop enjoyed the companionship of the Holy Ghost in making hundreds of decisions relating to the welfare of the Saints in his ward. He also learned the very important lesson "that the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness’" (D&C 121:36; italics added).

On this particular evening, some 16 young members of the South Royalton Branch and their leaders have gathered together to gather the sap. They meet at the chapel that is just a few hundred yards from the memorial. After directions from Branch President Harlo M. Beckstrand, they scramble down the road to begin gathering the sap. This year the buckets are hanging from tap spouts on the trees—the same method that was used for hundreds of years. In recent years the young people have used the more modern method of hooking each tree up with a plastic hose and running the hundreds of hoses together to one main gathering tank.
But this year it’s the old method, and the old method is much more fun.
Members of the branch carry five-gallon cans in which they empty the buckets from the trees, and then as the five-gallon cans are filled, the young Mormons start the long trek down the road to the main gathering tank. Sometimes a truck follows along, and the sap is dumped into a pumper tank that is towed behind. You might even catch a ride back to the next maple tree if you are lucky.
After the sap is gathered into the holding tank, the pumper wagon comes along and gathers up the sap so that it can be delivered to the boiling house. The pumper is called the “sap sucker” by those who really know the business. The pickup truck and the “sap sucker,” loaded with sap for the boiling house, head down the muddy road in front of the South Royalton chapel. The boiling house is run by Brother Franklin Fisk and his wife Dorothea. They live in a beautiful canyon about three miles from where the sap is gathered. As you round the bend approaching their home, you can see the steam rising from the boiling house as the sap is reduced further and further down to make the syrup.
Brother and Sister Fisk watch very carefully as the sap is boiled hour after hour. It takes 40 gallons of sap to make just one gallon of maple syrup. Pure maple syrup is very expensive and is not often found in our stores. Sister Fisk watches the sap carefully and grades the quality of the syrup by comparing it to other syrups in bottles that have already been graded. The syrups are graded by their color and clarity.
After the sap is boiled down into syrup, it is bottled and sold as syrup for pancakes and waffles and toppings for ice cream and other desserts. It might also be made into maple sugar and maple sugar candy.
For the young people who are lucky enough to live in this beautiful part of the world so close to the birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith, life has many challenges and rewards, but most of the time life is pretty sweet—especially at this time of year when they gather maple sap on the Joseph Smith Memorial Farm.

An older brother, Chris, had previously been baptized, but the rest of the family did not follow. While serving a mission, Chris requested that the elders back home visit Bien, who was taught and soon accepted baptism. But as Bien started high school, other pursuits—including a new group of friends—made church seem less attractive.

“My brother could not force me to go,” says Bien, “and I resisted attempts to reactivate me.” But despite good grades and many friends, Bien felt empty and aimless at times. He remembered how happy people at church were, and he finally decided to return.

When my oldest son, Eric, was a senior in high school, he wanted to give his family gifts for Christmas. He had little income, so he decided on a gift of the heart.
For each family member Eric made a list of the 10 things he would miss most about him or her while he was at college and on his mission. His lists were rolled up like scrolls and tied with ribbon.
At Christmas we opened our gifts with great enthusiasm and curiosity. My list included things like “Watching her try to use the computer” and “Her hugs.” It must have taken him a long time to think of 10 things for each of us. I cried, his brothers laughed, and his only sister cherished her list. It still hangs on the door of her room today, three years later.
Now as Eric serves a mission in Guatemala, we wanted to send him something different for his last Christmas before returning home. Each of us wrote our own version of the present he gave us three years ago. We titled them “Ten Things I Have Missed Most about Eric While He’s Been on His Mission.”
For some of us it was easy. Eric’s brothers had a hard time but finally finished. It was a great project for family home evening, and we all laughed and cried as we thought of our 10 things. What a great family tradition we’ve started and hope to continue as our other children leave for college and missions.
I will never forget this gift from a busy son who thought to make a gift that would make a difference. We are grateful we were able to receive this from him.

The river eddied fast and smooth around the raft and was a muddy gray color. The air was cool and smelled of snow. It was early spring, May 20. In Canada that’s a holiday celebrating Queen Victoria’s birthday, and for the LDS Branch in Banff, Alberta Province, it’s time for the annual trip down the Kootenay River.
Erwin Oertli is a member of the Banff Branch. He is also a professional river guide who has a government concession to run raft trips in Canada, and on the same weekend each spring he invites the entire Banff Branch, all interested families, on a three-day raft trip down the Kootenay River. He also invites several nonmember friends.
“It’s the best way I know of to introduce them to the Church,” he explained.
The trip began early Saturday morning. The rafts were unloaded on the river bank, inflated, and lifted into the water. Under Brother Oertli’s direction, metal platforms were placed in the rafts and lashed to the sides. Each family loaded and secured its food, supplies, and equipment onto the platforms. Brother Oertli gave final instructions on safety, the river, and handling the rafts. The river runners then buckled on life jackets, and at last the first raft was launched.
The first section of the river was fast and smooth. This gave the oarsmen a chance to get the feel of their rafts. The river reflected gray and liquid silver in the bright sun.
At noon the rafts were beached and Brother Oertli led the group up an old mining road to a ridge that overlooks the river. Below them the Kootenay snaked its way through the high Rocky Mountains of British Columbia. The tops of the mountains were still iced with snow. The long, ivory fingers of glaciers twisted down the slopes of the higher peaks.
After lunch the rafts were launched again. The river dropped faster now, turning sharply around the high slopes that walled it in. These rough-cut river canyons are bordered with stands of columnlike lodge pole pines. There were several sections of rough, white water, but by evening, with the exception of the girl who fell in, the rafts made it to the campsite with little trouble.
Equipment was unloaded and the rafts were pulled onto the shore and tipped over, allowing the water to drain out. In the blue-gray light of evening, tents were set up near a line of jagged pines that shouldered the beach. Fires were built, and the sounds of laughter and voices mixed with the savory aroma of burning pine and of frying steaks and potatoes.
The following morning a testimony meeting, held in the pines, was directed by Harlen Cahoon, a counselor in the Banff Branch presidency. In the meeting nearly everyone from the branch stood and expressed the strong feeling of closeness they felt for each other and for their Father in Heaven.
Brother Cahoon later explained that the testimony meeting on the trip was something everyone looked forward to every year.
“It’s the highlight of the trip,” he said.
After the meeting some of the families spent the afternoon hiking to a ridge that overlooked the river, while others sat by the river or in the shadows of pines, enjoying a steady flow of conversation. Fires were built with wood gathered the night before, and dutch ovens filled with chicken were buried in hot coals for dinner.
Toward evening, high-piled clouds drifted across the sky and the mountain peaks were fogged with gray-white wisps. Rain fell lightly, cooling the earth and scenting the air with the pleasant smells of wet leaves, pine, and aspen. The sky partially cleared as night came.
A cream-white moon, full and large, rose above the river, flooding it with shimmering, silver light that danced on the waves. A large bonfire was built on the beach. The group gathered around its warmth, watching fiery sparks sail up with the moon and the stars. Their soft singing filled the night air.
The next day, late in the afternoon, it was over. Under a fierce barrage of water fighting, the rafts glided into shore where the river intersected a road. The rafts were pulled onto the bank, deflated, and rolled up. Equipment was loaded into waiting cars and trucks, a prayer of thanks was said, and everyone drove for home feeling warm from the sun and from the closeness they felt for each other. Looking forward to the next trip, they left the Kootenay.

When I was 17, people started asking me whether I was going to serve a mission. I hadn’t decided yet, so I always put them off.
But as my 21st birthday approached, I started thinking about it. I read my patriarchal blessing, talked to my parents, and prayed.
The desire never came; I never felt I needed to serve. I thought about the counsel of President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), who said that while sister missionaries are welcome, they “are not under obligation to go on missions.”2 I was also reminded of the Lord’s words in the Doctrine and Covenants: “If ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work” (4:3).
That scripture helped me decide not to serve a mission. When I told the Lord in prayer of my decision, I felt peace and a confirmation that there were ways I could be a missionary without full-time service. I have since found I can share my testimony in many ways—through a conversation about the Lord’s tender mercies, while visiting teaching, or in doing family history and temple work. I am dedicating myself to missionary work by striving to live the gospel and follow the inspiration of the Spirit.
Amy Simon

As a young girl growing up in a Buddhist family in Laos, I had never even heard of Christ and Christianity. But with the upheaval in our country, our family had to leave our homeland, and we ended up in America. Here I met the LDS missionaries and was taught about Jesus Christ and his true church. I was baptized in June 1989.

I liked when Elder Nelson said “Faith is the antidote for fear.” I was born with problems with all of my organs and am at the doctor’s and hospital a lot. When I am scared, I pray for Heavenly Father’s help. Before big surgeries, I ask my dad for a blessing so I am not as afraid. I know Heavenly Father helps me get through all of the tests, pokes, and surgeries.
Hallie M., age 8, Illinois, USA

This stamp “encourages the world to have hearts full of love and peace for everyone. Our world is so full of wars and hate that to encourage love, peace, and harmony seems to be a great message.”
These were the words of an essay by 12-year-old Lance Howard, deacons quorum president in the Clinch River Ward, Knoxville Tennessee Cumberland Stake. Lance’s essay about his favorite postage stamp won him first place in the U.S. Postal Service’s “Celebrate the Century” essay contest for east Tennessee.
The postmaster in Powell, Tennessee, was especially moved by Lance’s words: “Not often do we see the powerful message coming from this age group as there is in his essay.”

“I wasn’t socially very good and wouldn’t do much with girls. Although I did date some, I wasn’t terribly popular so I would go out with my friends and get drunk,” says Andrew, who no longer drinks. “There were a lot of things I could have done besides drinking that would have been a better use of my time.”

“I’ve written a physics book, but now I’m doing a fantasy book,” he explains. “The book I’m writing is about magical creatures and their world. And then there are a few young people who solve the problems.”
This latest side project was inspired by Patrick’s love of fantasy novels such as the Harry Potter and Percy Jackson series. Writing books on the side is something Patrick got into after his uncle told him how much fun it can be. “He infected me with his joy,” says Patrick.
That infectious joy led Patrick to take what he had learned about the rules and realities of the physical world and write a book about them. It also made him want to create a marvelously fantastical story. And there’s no contradiction in this. Patrick seems to know that truth and beauty and joy can be found in many places. And he wants to find, create, and share those things wherever they may be.

When their cousin got baptized, Nephi shared his testimony. Nephi told those at the baptism about Jesus Christ. “I know it is important to share my testimony to strengthen others,” Nephi says.

I have spoken here of heavenly help, of angels dispatched to bless us in time of need. But when we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with—here, now, every day. Some of them reside in our own neighborhoods. Some of them gave birth to us, and in my case, one of them consented to marry me. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind. Elder James Dunn, from this pulpit just moments ago, used that word in his invocation to describe this Primary choir—and why not? With the spirit, faces, and voices of those children in our mind and before our eyes, may I share with you an account by my friend and BYU colleague, the late Clyn D. Barrus. I do so with the permission of his wife, Marilyn, and their family.
Referring to his childhood on a large Idaho farm, Brother Barrus spoke of his nightly assignment to round up the cows at milking time. Because the cows pastured in a field bordered by the occasionally treacherous Teton River, the strict rule in the Barrus household was that during the spring flood season the children were never to go after any cows who ventured across the river. They were always to return home and seek mature help.
One Saturday just after his seventh birthday, Brother Barrus’s parents promised the family a night at the movies if the chores were done on time. But when young Clyn arrived at the pasture, the cows he sought had crossed the river, even though it was running at high flood stage. Knowing his rare night at the movies was in jeopardy, he decided to go after the cows himself, even though he had been warned many times never to do so.
As the seven-year-old urged his old horse, Banner, down into the cold, swift stream, the horse’s head barely cleared the water. An adult sitting on the horse would have been safe, but at Brother Barrus’s tender age, the current completely covered him except when the horse lunged forward several times, bringing Clyn’s head above water just enough to gasp for air.
Here I turn to Brother Barrus’s own words:
“When Banner finally climbed the other bank, I realized that my life had been in grave danger and that I had done a terrible thing—I had knowingly disobeyed my father. I felt that I could redeem myself only by bringing the cows home safely. Maybe then my father would forgive me. But it was already dusk, and I didn’t know for sure where I was. Despair overwhelmed me. I was wet and cold, lost and afraid.
“I climbed down from old Banner, fell to the ground by his feet, and began to cry. Between thick sobs, I tried to offer a prayer, repeating over and over to my Father in Heaven, ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me! I’m sorry. Forgive me!’
“I prayed for a long time. When I finally looked up, I saw through my tears a figure dressed in white walking toward me. In the dark, I felt certain it must be an angel sent in answer to my prayers. I did not move or make a sound as the figure approached, so overwhelmed was I by what I saw. Would the Lord really send an angel to me, who had been so disobedient?
“Then a familiar voice said, ‘Son, I’ve been looking for you.’ In the darkness I recognized the voice of my father and ran to his outstretched arms. He held me tightly, then said gently, ‘I was worried. I’m glad I found you.’
“I tried to tell him how sorry I was, but only disjointed words came out of my trembling lips—‘Thank you … darkness … afraid … river … alone.’ Later that night I learned that when I had not returned from the pasture, my father had come looking for me. When neither I nor the cows were to be found, he knew I had crossed the river and was in danger. Because it was dark and time was of the essence, he removed his clothes down to his long white thermal underwear, tied his shoes around his neck, and swam a treacherous river to rescue a wayward son.”

I will share one sure way you can begin to accomplish such growth. I have seen valiant missionaries brave icy wind, resist torrential rains, slosh through slippery, muddy streets, and conquer fear. Often they bear a powerful testimony, only to be rejected and roundly criticized. I have seen them struggle to communicate truth in a new language. Sometimes the listener stares in puzzled silence. Then there dawns the shattering realization that the message is not understood. But I wouldn’t change any of it, even if I could, because there are those golden moments of success that make all of the hardships worthwhile. Such rewards come when the Spirit touches a heart for eternal good because someone like you was there. To share truth in difficult circumstances is to treasure it more. When you push against the boundaries of experience into the twilight of the unknown, the Lord will strengthen you. The beauty of your eternal soul will begin to unfold.

In [everyone’s] conscience lies that spirit, that determination to measure up to the stature of true potential. But the way is rugged, and the course is [challenging]. So discovered John Helander from Göteborg, Sweden. John is handicapped, in that it is difficult for him to coordinate his motions.
At a youth conference in Kungsbacka, Sweden, John took part in a running race. He had no chance to win. Rather, his was the opportunity to be humiliated.
What a race it was! Struggling, surging, pressing, the runners bolted far beyond John. There was wonderment among the spectators. Who was this runner who lagged so far behind? The participants on their second lap of this two-lap race passed John while he was but halfway through the first lap. Tension mounted as the runners pressed toward the tape. Who would win? Who would place second? Then came the final burst of speed; the tape was broken. The crowd cheered; the winner was proclaimed.
The race was over—or was it? Who is this contestant who continues to run when the race is ended? He crosses the finish line on but his first lap. Doesn’t the foolish lad know he has lost? Ever onward he struggles, the only participant now on the track. Every eye is on this valiant runner. He makes the final turn and moves toward the finish line. There is awe; there is admiration. As John approaches the finish line, the audience, as one, rises to its feet. Stumbling, falling, exhausted but victorious, John Helander breaks the newly tightened tape. The cheering echoes for miles.

A young mother said, “It takes an enormous amount of time and energy to be a good parent. It is easier to let my children fall asleep in front of the television while I pick up the house and then put them to bed than it is to read the scriptures to them, have prayers and stories, and tuck them in. But they look forward to this evening ritual, and I know this investment, even when I’m too tired to move, will pay eternal dividends.” Consistent leading helps youth make wise choices, and our trust in them increases.

I recently read the account of some deacons who got a little careless in their attitude towards passing the sacrament. They began to think of it as a chore, something that no one else wanted to do. They often came in late, and sometimes they didn’t dress appropriately. One Sunday their priesthood adviser told them: “You don’t have to worry about the sacrament today. It’s been taken care of.”
They were, of course, surprised to hear this, but as usual, they were late for sacrament meeting. They slipped in casually during the opening hymn and sat in the congregation. That’s when they noticed who was sitting on the deacons’ bench—their adviser and the high priests of the ward, who included men who had served as bishops and stake president. They were all dressed in dark suits with white shirts and ties. But more than that, their bearing was one of total reverence as they took the sacrament trays from row to row. Something was deeper and more significant about the sacrament that day. Those deacons who had become so perfunctory in their duties learned by example that passing the sacrament was a sacred trust and one of the greatest of honors. They began to realize that the priesthood is, as the Apostle Peter called it, “a royal priesthood.”

“I am so grateful for the presence of genuine friends in my life.

“Reverend Dr. Andrew Teal, chaplain and theologian at Oxford University, is one such friend. When we met, it felt as if we had known each other forever. He is charitable, honest, and deeply kind. Our friendship transcends religious and cultural differences that could otherwise distance us. Instead, we focus on the many similarities we share, such as our love of God and desire to share His love with others.

“I have learned a great deal from Andrew’s innate ability to love and accept his fellow brothers and sisters. He defies self-interest and through selfless acts, welcomes people from all walks of life into his giving heart. Pat and I have been the beneficiaries of that love and acceptance while visiting him at Oxford from time to time.

“Surround yourself with genuine friends whom you not only enjoy but from whom you can learn precious lessons. In this way we can fulfill the second greatest commandment, to ‘love thy neighbor as thyself’ [Mark 12:31].”
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, Facebook, Feb. 28, 2022, facebook.com/jeffreyr.holland.

My heart is full knowing that so many youth and Young Single Adults responded to our challenge to become part of the 4600 missionaries. My gratitude goes to the parents of these missionaries. Thank you for raising them in the gospel and entrusting them to the Lord for two years or eighteen months as they serve in the mission field. I am also inspired by the many who have answered the call to serve without strong support in the home. These dear youth are amazing!
The “I WILL GO, I WILL SERVE” campaign of the area presidency to raise 4600 missionaries was a resounding success. In May 2021, after all foreign missionaries were sent home due to the pandemic, we responded by inviting the rising generation of Filipino Latter-day Saints to go and serve. We set 4600 missionary applications as our goal by December 2022. So far, we have 3,695 missionaries serving in the field, and we are anticipating more by the end of the year.
Although the missionary workforce was reduced by half due to the pandemic, the number of baptisms increased to almost double the pre-pandemic level. Aside from actual baptisms, the finding efforts and the number of lessons taught also increased.
This 4600 missionary miracle is due in large part to the invitation extended by President Russell M. Nelson and his wife, Sister Wendy W. Nelson, in the worldwide youth devotional held in June 3, 2018. The prophet invited all the youth in the Church to “enlist in the youth battalion of the Lord” and take part in “the greatest challenge, the greatest cause, and the greatest work on earth.”