Gospel Story Finder

Christmas that year was a memorable one. I took the bus to Saigon, where the members met together for the first time in ten years in Viet Nam. The meeting was in a park. There were nearly one hundred people there. We had ice cream and cake. Later, at our table, brethren holding the priesthood broke bread and poured water into small glasses for the sacrament. We bowed our heads and prayed silently. Our joy was full.

Miss Nelson Is Missing! When Miss Nelson is missing, the children are convinced that the substitute teacher is a witch! (Would you like a witch for a teacher? Better read this book!) Just a little more difficult than an easy-to-read book.Harry Allard6–10 years

Deacons and others of the Aaronic Priesthood who perform today this sacred service, please know this to be a sacred duty. I recall that as a bishop, one morning the boys in the ward over which I presided had assembled—sleepy-eyed, a bit disheveled, and mildly complaining about arising so early to fulfill their assignment. Not a word of reproof was spoken, but during the following week we escorted the boys to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City for a guided tour. They saw firsthand a lame sister operating the telephone switchboard, an older man stocking shelves, women arranging clothing to be distributed—even a blind person placing labels on cans of food. Here were individuals earning their sustenance through their contributed labors. A penetrating silence came over the boys as they witnessed how their effort each month helped to collect the sacred fast offering funds which aided the needy and provided employment for those who otherwise would be idle.
From that hallowed day forward, we no longer had to urge our deacons with regard to collecting fast offerings. On fast Sunday mornings, they were present at 7:00 a.m., dressed in their Sunday best, anxious to do their duty as holders of the Aaronic Priesthood. No longer were they simply distributing and collecting envelopes. They were helping to provide food for the hungry and shelter for the homeless—all after the way of the Lord. Their smiles were more frequent, their pace more eager, their very souls more subdued. Perhaps now they were marching to the beat of a different drummer; perhaps now they better understood the classic passage, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Whenever the family of Joseph Smith, Sr., saw their father feel for the eyeglasses he carried in his vest pocket they knew it was time for the evening devotional; by custom, each day in their home ended with song, prayer, and Bible reading. Father Smith conducted, read from the Bible, and prayed. However, shortly after the initial visits of Moroni to the young Prophet Joseph in September 1823, these family gatherings took on according to the Prophet’s mother an exceptional aspect. She wrote:
“From this time forth, Joseph continued to receive instructions from the Lord, and we continued to get the children together every evening, for the purpose of listening while he [told us] of the same. I presume our family presented an aspect as [unusual] as any that ever lived upon the face of the earth—all seated in a circle, father, mother, sons, and daughters, and giving the most profound attention to a boy, eighteen years of age. …
“During our evening conversations, Joseph would occasionally give us some of the most amusing recitals [reports] that could be imagined. He would describe the ancient inhabitants of this continent, their dress, mode of traveling, and the animals upon which they rode; their cities, their buildings, with every particular; their mode of warfare; and also their religious worship. This he would do with as much ease, seemingly, as if he had spent his whole life with them.”

Gift of baptism. My companion and I had been teaching a 14-year-old girl named Martha, and she was nearly ready for baptism and confirmation. We had a few more lessons to teach, and she needed to stop working on Sundays so she could come to church. She loved what she was learning and believed it, but she worked for her aunt and was too young to get any other job. Martha struggled with the decision, so we taught her the blessings of the Sabbath day and encouraged her to pray.
Christmas Eve was a rainy day, and when it was almost time to go home, we felt we should stop by and say hello to Martha. Almost before we knocked on the door, she came running out and hugged us, jumping up and down with enthusiasm. She said, “I don’t have to work on Sundays anymore! I’m coming to church! I’m going to get baptized!” Even the rain seemed wonderful after that. Christmas Eve seemed like the perfect time to see someone make the decision to devote her life to Christ. We were two of the happiest missionaries you’ve ever seen.Erin B., Utah

One reader, Lynna Shin, now a student at BYU, faced the same dilemma about dealing with her family, who are not members, and attending Church meetings. She wrote, “My parents needed to know I was still their daughter. My spending so much time with church families made them feel they were ‘not good enough.’ I began suggesting Sunday activities like a drive into the mountains or a walk as an alternative to shopping malls, amusement parks, or movie theaters. Sometimes it worked, but not always. But I still spend time with my family because this is what the Lord asks of us. Trying to avoid my family for fear I was becoming a ‘bad’ Latter-day Saint only estranged me from my parents, making it harder for me to share with them the joy of the gospel.”
Lynna also suggested reading Mark 2:27, where Jesus teaches that the Sabbath day is for our benefit. We do not have a list of dos and don’ts like the ancient Jews had for observing the Sabbath. Instead we feel it is a day to worship and be with loved ones.

Elder Orson Hyde, who became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, wrote:
“I attended the Saints’ meeting in Kirtland, Sunday, October 30, 1831, and offered myself a candidate for baptism, which was administered to me by the hands of Elder Sidney Rigdon; was confirmed and ordained an elder in the Church on the same day under the hands of Joseph Smith, the Prophet, and Sidney Rigdon. Not until about three days after did I receive any internal evidence of the special approbation of Heaven of the course I had taken. When one evening behind the counter, the Spirit of the Lord came upon me in so powerful a manner, that I felt like waiting upon no one, and withdrew in private to enjoy the feast alone. This, to me, was a precious season, long to be remembered” (Millennial Star, 26 [1864]: 761).

David Martin, 17Rancho Cordova, California
I sometimes find myself saying things that I don’t mean, and then later regret even saying a word. I’ve found that if I think before I speak, it’s better. Then I don’t find myself going to someone and apologizing for something I didn’t mean.

This story happened in the USA.
Five fluffy yellow chicks stared up at Clara. Peep, peep, peep!
Each spring Clara’s family bought baby chicks to care for. Today she got to help Dad take them home to live with their other chickens.
The road they were driving on was bumpy. But Clara held the box with the chicks steady in her lap. She gently petted one of them with the tip of her finger. It was so soft!
When Clara and Dad got home, they walked to the henhouse in the backyard. The henhouse was a little shed where all the hens lived and made their nests.
“Which hen should we put the chicks with?” Dad asked.
Clara looked around. One hen was moving straw into a mound. The straw would make a cozy nest for new chicks. Maybe she would be a good mother hen.
“This one,” Clara said, pointing to the hen.
Dad gently lifted a chick out of the box and put it next to the hen. The hen looked at the chick. She lifted her wing, and suddenly the chick disappeared!
“Where did it go? Is the chick OK?” Clara asked.
Dad nodded. “Look.”
The chick peeked its head out from beneath the hen’s feathers.
“Why did the hen do that?” Clara asked.
“To protect the chick,” Dad said. “She’ll keep it safe and warm under her wings.”
Clara helped Dad put the other chicks with their new mother hen. The hen lifted her wings to gather all of them close.
“You know, Jesus Christ talked about this in the scriptures,” Dad said.
“Really?” Clara asked. “What did He say?”
“I’ll show you.”
Clara and Dad went into the house. Dad got out his scriptures. Then he started to read.
“How oft will I gather you as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if ye will repent and return unto me with full purpose of heart.”
Clara thought about each of the chicks under the hen’s feathers. “So Jesus gathers us like the hen brings the chicks under her wings?” Clara asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “He keeps us safe, just like the hen keeps her chicks safe. But He protects us from much more than the cold. He knows when we are hurt or sick or sad. He gives us peace and comfort. He cares for us.”
The next morning, Clara fed the hen and her new chicks. It made her think of the scripture Dad read. She smiled as she thought about Jesus. She knew He loved her and cared for her, like the hen cared for the chicks.
What did Clara learn about Jesus Christ?
Illustration by Assia Ieradi

In the mornings, my dad calls us for scripture study and family prayer. It sometimes takes us half an hour or more to finally get up and move to the living room. One morning, instead of calling us with his voice, he called our cell phones. Before my sister’s phone even rang three times, she was up, and she responded to the caller in a soft and sweet voice only to find out it was my father calling from the living room.

For example, our granddaughter Miranda is very motivated to grow spiritually by participating in daily early-morning seminary classes. She became interested by hearing positive comments from other seminary students in her ward. Her mother does not have to wake her up for class. On her own, she is up and connected by videoconference at the appointed time of 6:20 in the morning because she has developed good habits that help her to do so. My own parents told me recently that Miranda now talks more when she visits them, as she has grown in self-confidence. These are lessons for life and growth with noticeable outcomes.

You visit a nonmember family. As is often the case, they prepare a meal for you before you leave. This is common, and you had not taken much note of it before. This time you pay particular attention. The little red rooster that had been crowing when you arrived is now boiling in the pot. The last bunch of bananas is plucked. Enough money is found to buy a can of corned beef. You look around. The house is small, the roof needs patching, there are many children in the family, and they have little clothing. Yet they give you the best they have, and the only reward they hope for from you is your blessing, as a servant of the Lord, upon their family. As you leave there is a lump in your throat and mist in your eyes. You are humbled with the realization that you are charged with teaching the perfect gospel to a people who know and live the principles of true Christianity. You find there is much to be learned from them as you teach them the restored gospel.

For Clara Leticia Cruz Cano of Puerto Rico, her love of the Book of Mormon started when she was about four. She noticed that her older brother got to take a turn reading in their family’s nightly scripture study, and she wanted a turn also. She asked her parents to help her, and soon she was part of the reading circle.

May I introduce you to a successful young executive who writes: “Our family had it made. My wife and I were close, the three children were well adjusted, and then it happened. Jeff and Angela started to attend Primary with the neighbor’s children. From then on each Primary day our dinner hour became an instant replay of Primary. As parents, we couldn’t believe the great thoughts and attitudes—yes, and ‘a little child shall lead them.’ [Isa. 11:6.] Well, that was the beginning, [he writes], and now after two years as members of the Lord’s true church, we really do have it made. Our family didn’t really know what family unity and true happiness were all about until Mormonism came into our family circle.”

Getting lost was not an unusual occurrence for us. Once while heading south to Cedar City, Utah, we took a wrong turn and didn’t realize it until two hours later when we saw the “Welcome to Nevada” signs. We didn’t get angry. We laughed, and as a result, anger and resentment rarely resulted. Our laughter created cherished memories for us.

When you look at Jason Nicholl’s medical history, it’s no wonder he eventually wants to become a doctor. He’s certainly visited enough of them in his life. Even less surprising is the fact Jason worked as an emergency medical technician before leaving to serve a full-time mission in the Nevada Las Vegas Mission. After being helped for all these years, he figures he needs to start giving back and helping others.
“I’ve always been a klutz. On every Scout campout, I’d do something to hurt myself,” says Jason. Let’s see, there was the time he sliced off the top of his finger while closing a pocketknife. There was the speed-cutting contest where he was chopping with an ax that hit a knot in the log, flew up, and embedded itself in his ankle.
He’d like to remember the time he was night skiing when one of his skis came off, hit him in the face, broke his nose and knocked him out. He spent four days in the hospital, but he’s still a little foggy about that episode.
Besides his nose, Jason has broken two of his ribs, his arm, his hand, and his foot. To this day he can’t tell you how many fingers he’s broken. “Countless,” he says. But as the youngest emergency medical technician for an ambulance company in Salt Lake City, Jason began working toward the goal he’s had since he was six years old. “One day when I was six, I was sitting in front of the TV watching this health channel where they were showing some surgical procedure. It fascinated me,” Jason recalls. “That’s when I decided I wanted to be a doctor.”
Jason knows he has a lot of schooling ahead of him once he returns from his mission. However, he’s already learned much about the body because of the training he has received as an EMT. Many EMTs use their training as stepping-stones to jobs in law enforcement or related medical careers.
In fact, when Jason returns from his mission, he hopes to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a paramedic. While EMTs are trained in basic life support, paramedics know advanced life support techniques and are able to perform emergency procedures EMTs can’t. Jason sees this as the next logical step toward his ultimate career goal.
He knows that after spending two years as a missionary, it will take some time to get his skills back when he returns. But it’s a tradeoff he’s willing to make. “I believe in the gospel and I believe in the work,” Jason says.
Besides, when he gets back he’ll have the rest of his life ahead of him.

I recall the story of a teacher helping a young student on with his galoshes. They seemed smaller than his shoes. She got down on both knees and pushed, pulled, and stretched one boot until she finally got it on. Then she went through the same struggle and finally got the other one on. As she finally finished pulling it on, he said, “These are not my galoshes.” The teacher pulled and struggled and finally got them off. Then he said, “They are my sister’s, but my mother made me wear them.”

Would you like to know if Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and if the Book of Mormon is scripture sent from God? Then put it to the test. Read the Book of Mormon, and near its close you will find a promise that is given to everyone who reads that volume; and this is the promise: that if you will ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, if this book is true, and if you will ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, then our Heavenly Father will manifest the truth of it unto you by the power of the Holy Ghost. (See Moro. 10:4.)
This is the challenge and the test. I testify to you that I have read the Book of Mormon and that I have put it to the test; that God has revealed unto me the truthfulness of this added volume of scripture and revealed unto me that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God; and that Harold B. Lee is his prophet and representative and stands today as the earthly President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the one man on the earth who holds the keys of God’s kingdom, as Peter did anciently.

May 20. Billy asked me if I wanted to go with him on his paper route after school. The other guys wanted me to play ball. So did I, but something inside me said that going with Billy was more important.
We rode our bikes. I helped carry some of the papers in a sack. Afterward, Billy bought me a soda pop. Then we went across the street and lay on the grass in the park. After a while he asked me why I wanted to be his friend, why I liked to do stuff with him. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I told him, “I guess I just like you, that’s all.”
He looked sad. “Is it because you feel sorry for me because I’m … different? Some people make fun of me because I can’t do things like other people. And some are nice because they feel sorry for me.”
I told him that I get mad when other people treat him unkindly and that at first maybe that was why I wanted to be nice. “But after a while, I started liking you because you’re you,” I said. “I like how you sound when you laugh. It makes me feel happy inside. And I like how you treat other living things. Even little things. Like the pollywogs in the creek behind the school last week. You felt bad because the sun was drying up the little ponds of water, so you put the tadpoles in that applesauce jar and moved them farther up the creek where it was deeper. Most people aren’t that kind,” I told him. “You remind me of Jesus.” His eyes got full of tears, and he didn’t say anything. He just tapped me on the arm with his fist and kept looking the other way.

I guess I wouldn’t be out of order to tell you a little interesting experience that happened to me. Before I left on my mission I lived right across the street from the sheriff of Salt Lake City. He was a wonderful, law-abiding citizen, and he made me more so. When I came home, I sold my house, and moved just around the corner about the same distance away. One day while I was observing construction on my home, which is on a little hill with quite an incline, I pulled the car up, parked it, and got out and walked around to head up to the house. Suddenly the car started roiling backwards downhill, and there were several little children playing at the bottom. I panicked, as any parent would, and ran around and opened the car door. It was rolling fairly fast now. I got halfway in, and the momentum of the car upended me and threw me down on the street. I got my leg in, trying to pump a brake that wouldn’t pump, because it’s all power steering with power brakes so that nothing worked. I knew I had to divert the path of that car. To make matters more challenging, the car door banged on my leg; with a real prayer on my lips, I somehow got the strength to turn the wheel to divert its path. In doing so, it crossed the street, jumped the curb, and I pruned—and I mean pruned—the sheriff’s prize maple tree. I really leveled it. The car went over the tree and through his back fence and came to a stop in his rose garden.

Now, here’s the scene. You’ve got a runaway car with a General Authority on his back in a rose garden. The sheriff looked over the hood of the car and said, “Paul, what in the world are you doing?”

And I couldn’t think of anything any better than this. I said, “Sheriff, I’m your new home teacher.”

Well, now, that is not the way to warn a neighbor. I don’t think the Lord had that in mind, but rather to share feeling and concern and to give help.