Gospel Story Finder

Bishop Webb remembers last year’s tithing settlement with Sage and her family. “I asked Sage, ‘Are you a full tithe payer?”
“She said, ‘No.’
“I asked if she had some tithing to pay to be a full tithe payer.
“She said, ‘Yes.’ Then she pulled out an envelope with some money and pushed it across my table.
“‘Do you want me to fill out your receipt for you?’ I asked.
“‘No,’ she said. ‘You hold the paper, and I’ll write it.’”
And placing a pencil between the stubs on the ends of her arms, she laboriously filled out the receipt.

Jimmy Weston munched on a handful of jelly beans as he walked home from school. “Sometimes I wish Dad wouldn’t get transferred so often,” he muttered, kicking at a loose stone on the sidewalk.
Rolf rode by on his bike. “Hiya, Shorty!” he shouted.
Jimmy liked Rolf, but he hated being called Shorty. He wondered what it would feel like to be as tall as the other guys in his new sixth grade class.
He finished the last jelly bean and went into his house through the back door. A note from his mom invited him to have some fresh cookies that she’d baked. It also reminded him to stack the last of the boxes used for moving and to sweep out the garage.
Jimmy had finished a cookie and was just changing his clothes when the phone rang.
It was Mrs. Cobb, his teacher. “Jimmy, I know you’re new in town,” she said, “and you probably haven’t heard about the fall parade we help with each year.”
“No, ma’am,” Jimmy replied.
“Our class has been asked to do something special this time. I’m asking my students to try to come up with some ideas.”
“I’ll try to think of something, Mrs. Cobb. Thanks for calling me.”
Moving and stacking the empty boxes didn’t take Jimmy long, and he had almost finished sweeping the garage when his mother turned into the driveway. He gave one last push to the broom, then tossed it into a corner. As he did so, a long stick fell toward him.
“Hey, Mom,” Jimmy called as he pulled another stick from against the wall, “what are these things?”
His mother had her arms full of groceries. Glancing over her shoulder, she replied, “Oh, I’d almost forgotten about those. Here, Jimmy, help me carry some of these sacks into the house, and I’ll show you what they are.”
Mrs. Weston pushed open the back door, and they quickly put the groceries away. Then they went back to the garage.
“Those are the old stilts that your father had when he was your age. I didn’t remember that we still had them. Why don’t you try them out?” Mrs. Weston held the stilts upright. “Stand up on this box,” she said. “It’s about even with the footrests of the stilts.” She held the stilts steady. “Now, put your feet into the stirrups.”
Jimmy laughed as he fitted his feet into place. “It’s kind of like mounting a horse,” he said.
Mrs. Weston said, “Keep the stilts parallel and tight against your legs as you pick them up and move forward—it’s much like walking.” She steadied Jimmy as he moved slowly around the garage. Then she took her hands away, and he was on his own.
“Hey, Mom, this is really neat! I’m tall … like a giant!” he whooped. Clumping around the garage, then up and down the driveway, Jimmy felt like a king looking over his lands. “How do I get down?” he yelled as he moved toward the house.
“Go to the side of the back porch, Jimmy,” Mrs. Weston coached, “and get off there just like you got on.”
Jimmy carefully slipped his feet out of the stirrups, stepped onto the porch, then carried the stilts back into the garage. “Wow, Mom, I’ve never felt tall before. That was great!”
That night after supper Jimmy practiced walking on the stilts again. It was even easier the second time.
Three days later Mrs. Cobb asked Jimmy and Rolf and four other children in the class to stay after school for a meeting. “Have any of you come up with some ideas for the parade?” she asked. “It’s only ten days away.”
“We could make a float again this year,” Rolf suggested halfheartedly.
“Or we could dress up in costumes,” one of the others said.
As Jimmy sat listening, he suddenly thought of something different that they could all do. “Why don’t we each make a pair of stilts? We can wear long jackets and go as giants.”
He stopped, wondering if the others would think his idea was silly. But they weren’t laughing; they were looking at each other and nodding excitedly.
“Sounds like a great idea, Shorty, but how do you make them?”
“We can work on them in our garage,” Jimmy said, trying to forget that Rolf had called him that name again. “My dad has a pair that he used when he was a boy. We can use them for our pattern.”
Mrs. Cobb smiled. “It sounds like a really different idea, Jimmy. A good one too. Thanks.”
On the way down the hall after the meeting, Rolf playfully punched Jimmy’s shoulder. “I guess if you get up on those stilts, I can’t call you Shorty anymore.” He grinned.
Jimmy grinned back. “That would suit me just fine, Rolf,” he said.
Munching jelly beans on the way home, Jimmy realized that he didn’t feel short anymore. Maybe it wasn’t his height that had made Rolf change his mind about the nickname, but the fact that he had been willing to help the rest of the group, regardless of what they called him. He felt as tall as any of them now.
The next few days were busy with sawing, hammering, and sanding. Finally six pairs of stilts were ready for the parade.
The childrens’ mothers had all gotten together and made matching long jackets and tall hats.
The day of the annual event was bright and sunny. Bands played, there were decorated bikes and fancy floats, and marchers threw sticks of gum and candy kisses as they passed by the kids. But the biggest cheers were for six striding giants in fancy long jackets and tall hats, grinning and nodding to the crowd.

As a young girl, I developed a strong imagination and sense of humor. Listening to music was one of my favorite pastimes. I often pulled out our old record player and listened to the music from popular plays and movies such as Carousel, Oklahoma, and the Music Man. I had never actually seen them, so I created my own plots and story lines based on the words from the songs. I also made up all the dances and acted out many of the roles. It didn’t take much to make me happy. A few dress-up clothes from my parents’ closet, a record, an empty room, and I was off on an adventure.
In my mind, I traveled to many faraway places and experienced many marvelous things. In fact, later in my life, when I was able to travel, I discovered that the places I visited in my imagination were almost more fun and exciting than trips I actually took.

Come with me for a moment to a place portrayed in song—dear to the heart of America—New York City’s world-famous landmark of Broadway and Forty-fifth Street. There, standing so forlornly alone on a tiny island surrounded by bustling traffic, is a heroic-size statue of Father Francis P. Duffy, well-known chaplain of the Fighting Sixty-ninth of World War I fame. He wears the uniform of the battlefield. He carries a canteen to relieve the physical distress of the wounded and a Bible to bring spiritual comfort to the dying.

As we gaze at this splendid statue, there courses through memory’s corridors such melodies of the period as “Over There,” “Keep the Home Fires Burning,” and “Give My Regards to Broadway.” Were those fallen warriors who knew the song and remembered with affection Broadway and Forty-fifth Street to return and stand with us at the side of Father Duffy’s statue, what sight would meet their eyes and ours? On every hand are massage parlors, sex shops, X-rated movies—the neon-lighted signs flashing their facade of allure. The statue of Father Francis P. Duffy stands surrounded by sin, engulfed by evil. The pornography beetle has just about destroyed this area. He moves relentlessly closer to your city, your neighborhood, and your family.

I had to choose between a high-paying job and keeping the Lord’s day holy. I chose to keep the Sabbath holy, because the Lord promises that if we keep His commandments, we will prosper in the land. After a time, during which He proved my faith, I was blessed with a job not requiring Sunday work.Rafael Dias de Moura, 18, Matinhos Ward, Paranaguá Brazil Stake

When I first read this account, I too was surprised by the advice Elder Lee gave. I would never have connected an early daily schedule with revelation. However, I now know that there is a direct correlation. I have also learned that actions traditionally associated with receiving revelation like prayer, scripture study, fasting, temple attendance, and service are greatly enhanced when I go to bed early and get up early.

We have never worried about worldly possessions. When we joined the Church we had no car, no telephone, no washing machine, no refrigerator, no vacuum cleaner. We have always appreciated the Lord’s admonition and promise: “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matt. 6:33). I can certainly testify to the reality of this, for the things which would help us do the Lord’s work more effectively were added unto us.

During the Mexican-American War in 1846, about 500 members of the Church marched 2,000 miles from Council Bluffs, Iowa, to San Diego, California. The group was known as the Mormon Battalion.
On January 29, 2022, the same number of missionaries and volunteers marched near the Mormon Battalion Historic Site in San Diego during the 175th anniversary program to honor the faith and courage of the battalion.
Elder D. Todd Christofferson spoke at the event, telling members that we can draw strength and inspiration from the courageous, faithful example of the Mormon Battalion: “Their legacy is one of exceptional faith and sacrifice and service as they accepted the call to serve God and their country. … As you stand here in their place, you are heirs of that great legacy. You too are capable of that kind of faith and sacrifice and service. You too are capable of doing hard things. You too have great things to do. Now, go forth and make a difference.”3

Youth in the Williamsburg Ward, Newport News Virginia Stake, decided that they would make a paper chain to show how much they cared for each other. Originally, each time one of them did a good deed, they were to write their names on a link and add it to the chain. But after giving it some thought, they decided to write the names of others who had done nice things for them instead. The chain is now more than 75 feet long!
“Recognizing little kindnesses helped us appreciate each other more. We know we can depend on each other,” says Laurel Natalie Webster.

How cheaply some men and women sell their good names! I recall the widely publicized case of a prominent public figure who was arrested for taking an item costing less than five dollars. I do not know whether he was ever convicted in the courts, but his petty misdeed convicted him before the people. In a measure, his foolish act nullified much of the good he had done and was capable of yet doing.

At the Berlin Olympics in 1936, Hitler declared that Caucasians were a superior race. North America had 10 black athletes, who, much to Hitler’s chagrin, scored more points than any national team. Chief among them was Jesse Owens. At the opening ceremonies, Hitler refused to greet Owens and deliberately snubbed the black athletes. Owens simply shrugged and said, “I didn’t come over to shake hands with Hitler, anyway.” Owens then battled to win four gold medals. As he broke the world’s record for the running broad jump, the first to greet him was not a fellow team member but an exuberant German competing in the same event, Luz Long.
“I have never seen anything like this. You are the greatest of all!” Long exclaimed.
As Owens took Long’s hand in both of his and squeezed it, the crowd thundered approval. Then the two competitors wrapped their arms about one another and began to walk toward the track. The crowd—in spite of Hitler’s presence—went wild with joy and shouted for many minutes.

Captain Simpson, who is also a flight paramedic, knows from his own experience how effective the bears can be with children. Twelve-year-old Nicole Wallace had to be flown by helicopter from one hospital to another. She was bleeding internally from a lacerated kidney and liver suffered in an automobile accident. She refused to let go of her bear at any time during the transfer from hospital to helicopter to hospital. She finally gave up the bear just before undergoing surgery.
Speaking about the accident, Nicole says, “The car was badly smashed, and the paramedics had to take out the back seat before they could lift me out of the rear window. When they put me in the ambulance, they gave me this cute little bear,” Nicole said. “It kept me from getting scared. I would hold on to it, so I wouldn’t hurt so bad. In the hospital it stayed right by me in my bed.”

I was serving in Indonesia when the Book of Mormon was first translated and printed in that language. During that time I had an inkling of what it must have been like for Joseph Smith and others when they were finally able to give so many others the privilege of reading the book. One of my local companions, an Indonesian sister from the city of Solo, slept with her copy right beside her.

Rosalie Lund began playing the violin when she was five. “I always liked playing. I always wanted to be a great violinist,” she says.
So why would she take 18 months off to serve a mission?
It’s a question Sister Lund became familiar with before she left in December 1996 to serve in the Canada Vancouver Mission. She was performing with an orchestra in Salt Lake City, and many nonmember musicians wondered what she was doing.
“Several of them thought I was crazy to go on a mission, especially in the prime time of my life,” Sister Lund recalls. “They were saying, ‘You’re going to do what?’”
“Knock on a lot of doors and tell people about the beliefs of my religion,” was her typical response. When the musicians talked about all the great things she could do musically if she stayed, she was quick to point out all the great things she planned to do as a missionary.
Sure it was the “prime time” of her life. And that’s why she decided to serve a mission.
“I had to do what I felt was right. I have had a very strong feeling that I needed to go on a mission. So here I am,” she says. “I’m learning and teaching about Jesus Christ. He is the source of everything good. If there is any truth or beauty in music, it comes from Jesus Christ. So in a way I guess I am still continuing my music study.”
Sister Lund remembers her last performance before she entered the Missionary Training Center. Everyone was talking about practice schedules and coming events, events she wasn’t going to be a part of. “I wasn’t very sad, actually. I knew I’d be missing out. But in a way I felt like they were missing out,” she says.
There were also the inevitable questions about the potential loss of skill while she is gone, especially since mission rules prevented her from taking her violin.
“I’m sure I’ll get rusty. I’ve had many friends—also violinists—who went on missions, and when they came back they were rusty. I guess if the Lord wants me to play the violin, I’ll be able to get back into it.”

I recall tests to my own faith. I went to the 9th through 12th grades of school in Bloomington, Indiana, and the nonmember students constantly challenged my beliefs. At the time, my only defense was to do what Moses and Aaron did—draw closer to the Lord. I reasoned that God must exist since I couldn’t prove that he didn’t. I also assumed that he could and would communicate with me. With these ideas in mind, and with the faith that my parent’s testimony had to be based on something real, I prayed fervently. Out of that intense struggle, I received my own witness of God’s existence.

“I have dealt myself with the debilitating effects of depression. But I have learned from my own experience, and I learn from those I meet, that we are never left to our own resources. We are never abandoned. A wellspring of goodness, of strength and confidence is within us, and when we listen with a feeling of trust, we are raised up. We are healed. We not only survive, but we love life.”Kathleen H. Hughes, first counselor in the Relief Society general presidency, “Blessed by Living Water,” Liahona and Ensign, May 2003, 13. (Photograph by Busath Photography.)

The choice of a temple lot shows the hand of the Lord in the process. After many discussions with several municipalities in the Stockholm area, two suitable lots were found. A committee of local Church leaders suggested one of them, but the President of the Church decided that the other would be better. This decision has proven to be inspired, since the other lot later proved to be unsuitable for a temple.

“‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,’” Grandma Irma said.
“What?” Lucy asked.
“That’s the song you are humming,” Granny told Lucy. “Mama used to sing it really loud when she went out to milk the cow when she was a young lady. Then my daddy, who lived next door, would hear her and come and milk the cow for her.”
“‘She Wore a Yellow Ribbon,’” Grandma Irma said again, and smiled.

After 40 years of working to build the Salt Lake Temple, many Saints attended the first dedication session on 6 April 1893. Forty more dedication services took place during the next two weeks. In all, 75,000 Saints attended!
The weather was cold and stormy on the first dedication day, but everyone inside the temple felt peace and warmth. Several people saw angels or heard them singing. Others felt that light was streaming into the room, even though dark clouds and falling snow could be seen through the windows.
President Woodruff later said, “If the eyes of the congregation could be opened they would [have] seen Joseph and Hyrum [Smith], Brigham Young, John Taylor, and all the good men who had lived in this dispensation assembled with us, as also … all the Holy Prophets and Apostles who had prophesied of the latter day work. … They were rejoicing with us in this building which had been accepted of the Lord.”
The Saints had sacrificed their time, money, and talents to build a temple strong enough to last through the Millennium. In return, Heavenly Father blessed them with marvelous spiritual blessings inside His house.
(See “‘The Power of God Was with Us,’”Ensign, Mar. 1993, 28–31.)

In 1898, while supervising missionary work in Scotland, he prepared an article for a local Glasgow newspaper to refute slanderous information the newspaper had published about the Church. In this instance and in similar circumstances he would encounter as a mission president 20 years later, his letters to the editor succeeded because of their mild tone and well-reasoned teachings.8