Gospel Story Finder

Malachi’s prophesy is being fulfilled. We know that Jesus Christ spoke to Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery in the Kirtland Temple and that He appeared to President Lorenzo Snow in the Salt Lake Temple. President Snow’s granddaughter said, “Grandpa told me what a glorious personage the Savior is and described His hands, feet, countenance, and beautiful white robes, all of which were of such a glory of whiteness and brightness that he could hardly gaze upon Him. … Grandpa … said: ‘Now, granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior here in the Temple, and talked with Him face to face.’”*

A more modern life of integrity is exemplified by George Washington, first president of the United States of America. He refused any compensation, expecting the government to pay only his expenses, of which he kept an exact account. He gave 45 years of his life in the service of his country. (See David O. McKay, Secrets of a Happy Life, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1967, pages 142–44.)

A former student praises Dr. Russell M. Nelson’s teaching style.

“No one will start to eat until your mother, who has prepared this lovely meal, sits down and is ready to begin,” my husband said, verbally lifting me from cook to queen while our children sighed and waited to begin dinner.

As she lay in bed, Julia thought back to the twins’ baptisms. They had been asked to sing a duet for the baptismal program. Julia remembered how nervous they had looked when they first got up in front of everyone. But they had squeezed each other’s hand for courage and had sung “Love One Another” beautifully.

Aere triggered a mudslide that buried a building belonging to another church, killing two who sought shelter there. Seven others had been reported dead at press time. About one million homes were left without water or electricity throughout the island.

One individual realized that when he experienced a negative emotion, he tried to escape his discomfort by thinking about pornography. As a result of this new awareness, he began to offer a silent prayer whenever he felt a negative emotion, asking for help to withstand the experience and to resist the urge to escape.
A Book of Mormon story helped this man understand how the Lord could help him with his problem. He noted that when the people of Alma were in bondage the Lord promised that their burdens would be made light (see Mosiah 24:14); He did not promise to completely remove their burdens. Likewise, this man did not expect the Lord to eliminate the negative emotions in his life but to help him cope with them in a healthy way.

When we put the Lord first in our home, it becomes a place where our spirits can be renewed and strengthened. Sister Margaret Murdock of Salt Lake City was asked to teach a Relief Society lesson about the scriptures. As she prepared her lesson, she began to realize that she had never studied the scriptures enough to make them part of her everyday thinking. As a single mother of five with a responsible job, she knew she needed more guidance.

Now Sister Murdock studies the scriptures for a half hour each morning and also at night. And for the first time, she is finding that the Lord’s words come to mind when she has problems at work or with her children. “Now I see the people I deal with at work as children of our Heavenly Father, whether they are religious or not,” says Sister Murdock. One of her co-workers is rude and hard to work with. “He’s a child of God, too,” says sister Murdock. “He just doesn’t know it yet.” Because she is taking the time for the Lord at home, Sister Murdock is feeling greater peace—whatever difficulties may arise.

“Before we were old enough to hustle our own jobs, Dad made an agreement with the four of us boys that if we would work with him—put in a good morning of work that he had planned for us—he would play with us in the afternoon. So after four to six hours of real hard work, Dad, who was an athlete, taught us how to play basketball, baseball, and other sports. In fact, he helped us build a track so we could run on it.”

There comes a time in all of our lives when we question the existence of our testimony. For me it came when I discovered that though within my mind I knew the Church to be true, within my heart there had been no such witness, or so I supposed.

I wanted my own special witness. I prayed and fasted, fasted and prayed. Finally one day, as I sat in sacrament meeting, my heart began to tremble and my eyes began to water. This is something that often happens to me in testimony and sacrament meetings. I realized then that this was my witness that the gospel is true. I knew that I had always known the Church to be true.

Do not be ashamed to admit you do not know the Church is true. We all must be converted to the gospel spiritually, no matter how many generations our families have been in the Church.
Tony S. RollsWestmead, Australia

I offer this as profound conviction born in the fiery crucible of life’s experience. Our second son, Adam, entered our lives when I was far away in the jungles and rice paddies of Vietnam. I still have the joyful telegram announcing his birth. Adam was a blue-eyed, blond-haired little fellow with an impish personality. As he turned five years old, Adam eagerly looked forward to starting school. Then a common childhood illness blanketed our southern California community, and Adam contracted the disease. Aside from concern for his comfort, we were not worried. He even seemed to have a light case. Suddenly one morning he did not arise from his bed; he was in a deep coma. We rushed him to the hospital, where he was placed in intensive care. A constant cadre of devoted doctors and nurses attended him. His mother and I maintained a ceaseless vigil in the waiting room nearby.

I telephoned our dear stake president—a childhood friend and now a beloved colleague in the Seventy, Elder Douglas L. Callister—and asked if he would come to the hospital and join me in giving Adam a priesthood blessing. Within minutes he was there. As we entered the small, cramped space where Adam’s lifeless little body lay, his bed surrounded by a bewildering maze of monitoring devices and other medical paraphernalia, the kind doctors and nurses reverently stepped back and folded their arms. As the familiar and comforting words of a priesthood blessing were spoken in faith and earnest pleading, I was overcome by a profound sense that Someone else was present. I was overwhelmed by the thought that if I should open my eyes, I would see the Savior standing there! I was not the only one in that room who felt that Spirit. We learned quite by chance some months later that one of the nurses who was present that day was so touched that she sought out the missionaries and was baptized.

But notwithstanding, Adam made no improvement. He lingered between this life and the next for several more days as we pleaded with the Lord to return him to us. Finally, one morning after a fitful night, I walked alone down a deserted hospital corridor. I spoke to the Lord and told Him that we wanted our little boy to return so very much, but nevertheless what we wanted most was for His will to be done and that we—Pat and I—would accept that. Adam crossed the threshold into the eternities a short time later.

Frankly, we still grieve for our little boy, although the tender ministering of the Spirit and the passage of the years have softened our sadness. His small picture graces the mantel of our living room beside a more current family portrait of children and grandchildren. But Pat and I know that his path through mortality was intended by a kind Heavenly Father to be shorter and easier than ours and that he has now hurried on ahead to be a welcoming presence when we likewise eventually cross that same fateful threshold.

In the southern Hungarian city of Pécs, the topic of the first Sunday School lesson after they received the Book of Mormon was Lehi’s dream in 1 Nephi 8 [1 Ne. 8], a story not included in the selections. “The members loved it,” says Elder Brian Blum. “They kept drawing it on chalkboards.”
In Pécs, the books were handed out in a special Christmas family home evening. Elder Blum particularly recalls the reaction of one member, Sister Szücs Krisztina, who had been baptized about three months earlier. “She didn’t get up. She was just sitting there,” he says. “And I was wondering why she wasn’t doing much with her copy of the Book of Mormon. Then I looked down and saw she was crying as she was reading several parts from the Book of Mormon.”

[President Monson, reflecting on the teachings of President J. Reuben Clark Jr. (1871–1961), who served as a counselor in the First Presidency with three presidents of the Church:]
“It was my great privilege to know President Clark rather well. I was his printer. On occasion, he would share with me some of his most intimate thoughts, even those scriptures around which he tailored his teachings and lived his life. Late one evening I delivered some press proofs to his office situated in his home at 80 D Street here in Salt Lake City. President Clark was reading from Ecclesiastes. He was in a quiet and reflective mood. He sat back from his large desk, which was stacked with books and papers. He held the scriptures in his hand, lifted his eyes from the printed page, and read aloud to me: ‘Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.’ (Eccl. 12:13.) He exclaimed, ‘A treasured truth! A profound philosophy!’ Through the years that conversation has remained bright in my memory. I love, I cherish the noble word duty.”1

In Arizona, troops rallied around banners representing the 12 tribes of Israel. As a service project, they planted more than 24,000 seedlings in an area burned by forest fire. A merit badge midway helped some Scouts earn as many as five and six merit badges during the five days at the camp.
In addition to the Young Men General Presidency, the Arizonians heard from Bishop H. Burke Peterson, first counselor in the Presiding Bishopric, and from Elders Hartman Rector, Jr., and George P. Lee of the First Quorum of the Seventy.

The following is a true story. For my eighth birthday I wanted to have a party. My parents agreed, and so a week before my birthday, I took the invitations to school.
On the school bus, I kept thinking about Alice.* I was hoping that she wouldn’t be there that day. Then my parents couldn’t blame me for not inviting her. You see, Alice was different from the other girls, and she was very quiet. She always played by herself at recess, and as far as I could see, she had no friends. In other words, I didn’t see why I needed to invite her to my party.
When I got to school, much to my dismay, Alice was there. I handed out the invitations, and everyone was very excited.
The morning of my birthday party, my parents asked, “Will Alice be coming?” I was surprised! I didn’t think they even knew Alice.
“I don’t know if she’s coming,” I answered. My father suggested that we take a ride over to her house to see. My father is a very kind man, but he is also very firm. If he suggests that we do something, we do it.
Alice’s mother answered the door, and my father told her why we were there. “She won’t be coming,” Alice’s mother said. “She doesn’t have a present for your daughter. You see, my husband lost his job and …”
My father gestured that he understood, then said, “We would still like Alice to come. It doesn’t matter if she has a present or not.”
No present? I thought. What kind of a birthday party is that? But, of course, I just stood there and smiled.
When we were in the car again, my father told me that after he took me home he was coming back to take Alice to buy a present for her to give me.
This isn’t turning out so bad after all! I thought.
I can’t remember what presents I got that day, but I do remember that Alice seemed to laugh a lot and was actually quite fun to be with. When it was time to take her home, I got in the front seat and she got in the backseat. I turned around to tell her something, and next to her was the prettiest doll I had ever seen. In my eight-year-old mind, I realized my father had bought that doll for Alice. I felt as though my heart grew two sizes that day.
My father is not a great scientist. He has never invented anything or found a cure for a disease. But that day he did something just as important—he showed charity to a little girl. And to another little girl, he showed what it means to be Christlike.

Just before the evening devotional, a reception for the Osmonds was held at the meetinghouse in Solihull where Justin reconnected with Richard Grant, who he had worked with during voluntary service to the UK deaf community years earlier. The pair’s previous assignment was part of their mission for the Church.
Justin said, “My heart is full tonight. The UK is my second home with its beautiful green pastures and to reconnect with my hero, mentor and dear friend, Richard, who changed my life.”
Richard said, “It has been 25 years since we last were together. Justin is a fantastic guy. He was when we were serving together, and he is now. He honestly wanted to serve with all his heart, and he has not changed.”

In August 1830, as a lay preacher, Parley Parker Pratt (1807–57) was traveling from Ohio to eastern New York. At Newark, along the Erie Canal, he left the boat and walked 10 miles into the country, where he met a Baptist deacon by the name of Hamlin, who told him “of a book, a strange book, a very strange book! … This book, he said, purported to have been originally written on plates either of gold or brass, by a branch of the tribes of Israel; and to have been discovered and translated by a young man near Palmyra, in the State of New York, by the aid of visions, or the ministry of angels. I inquired of him how or where the book was to be obtained. He promised me the perusal of it, at his house the next day. … Next morning I called at his house, where, for the first time, my eyes beheld the ‘Book of Mormon’—that book of books … which was the principal means, in the hands of God, of directing the entire course of my future life.
“I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page. I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, 1938, 36–37).
Parley Pratt was then 23 years of age. Reading the Book of Mormon affected him so profoundly that he was soon baptized into the Church and became one of its most effective and powerful advocates. …

When Spencer was four months old, I took him to our local hospital for an appointment. As I unloaded him from the car, I saw two people exiting the hospital. In disbelief, I realized it was William and his mother.
“William!” I called out when we got closer, my heart pounding.
“Hi!” He ambled across the parking lot, a wide grin lighting up his face. He thrust out his hand and grasped mine in an enthusiastic handshake.
“How are you?” I asked him.
“Violin,” he said, the excitement shining in his eyes.
Violin. He remembered me too. “Yes,” I choked out through a teary laugh, “I played the violin.”
As we spoke, my heart rose in prayer for the tender mercies of a loving Father in Heaven who knew how much I had wished to meet William again. I am grateful that God saw me—a struggling young mother overwhelmed with my son’s health problems and worried for his future—and gave me an experience that reminded me that He is aware of us.

“A daughter made this comment: “Dad is a practical joker. I recall a story he relates about the time he and three other boys arrived at school early one morning. (Those were the days when everyone sat around one big stove in the room to keep warm.)
“The teacher was quite superstitious so the boys decided to play a little joke. They climbed up into the attic before school started. When all the others were assembled around the stove, one of the boys in the attic called down through the stovepipe in a ghostly voice, ‘I am the ghost of thy father come to haunt this room indefinitely.’ Well, needless to say, everyone ran from the room and the scene was one of total chaos.
“Later when the boys came down from the attic covered with dust and dirt, they were taken to the principal. He asked them some questions but couldn’t help laughing at their prank and their appearance.”

Why was it that whenever Bobby asked his dad to let him have a bit of fun on the weekend, it always had to turn into an argument about Church standards? All he wanted to do was go on a fishing trip with his friend Jason. But Dad wouldn’t let him go unless Jason’s folks could bring him back in time for church on Sunday.
“Just tell him that you believe in keeping the Sabbath Day holy,” his dad suggested with a smile.
“Dad! I can’t tell Jason that!” Bobby declared. “He’ll think I’m a loser!”
Dad folded the newspaper he was reading and sat quietly for a moment considering his next words. “Son, you have to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.”
Bobby didn’t like it when his father talked in clichés. They were just sayings that were passed from person to person until they lost all meaning. Anyway, he didn’t understand what the big deal was. He was just going to spend the weekend with Jason and his family. He’d only miss church that one Sunday. I’ll just call Dad Sunday morning and tell him I can’t make it home in time for church, he decided.
“OK, Dad,” Bobby said. “Whatever you say.”
“Good decision, Son.” Dad thumped Bobby on the arm as he left the room.
Bobby felt a bit like a worm dangling on a hook, but he pushed the uncomfortable feeling to the back of his mind as he hurried to stuff a few things in his backpack. A whole weekend fishing! Yes! he thought.
The phone call to his dad Sunday morning brought that wriggling-worm feeling back again, but the sun was shining and the fish were biting. He shook the sound of his father’s disappointment out of his head and ran outside to join Jason.
Blue Lake shimmered like a saucer filled with diamonds. Bobby hoisted his end of the canoe off his shoulder and helped Jason maneuver it into the water. They soon were stroking toward the middle of the lake. A hawk soared overhead, then dove toward the lake. Its claws struck the water, thrusting beneath the surface. Its great wings beat soundlessly as it struggled to rise with a silver fish in its grasp.
“Wow! I wish I could fish like that!” Jason exclaimed.
The boys reeled in a couple of bite-size brookies, but they unhooked them and carefully placed them back in the water. “You guys need to grow up a bit before you can come home with us!” Bobby said.
Soon one of them reeled in a rainbow trout that would span a frying pan. Concentrating on their fishing, they didn’t notice the white wisps gathering near the shore until the first frigid fingers of fog darted down the necks of their jackets. By the time they’d secured their fishing poles and picked up their paddles, Bobby noticed that Jason was only a shadow at the other end of the canoe.
“Which way?” Bobby asked, dipping his paddle into the water.
“I don’t know. I can’t see the land.” Jason’s voice was muffled, as if he was fading away in the fog that engulfed them.
“Well, let’s just paddle straight. We’ll have to hit the shore sometime,” Bobby said.
They paddled and paddled, but caught no sign of land.
“I think we’re going in circles.” Jason’s voice sounded small.
The fog thickened around them like a quilt, swallowing them in its thick cottony folds. There were snags in the lake, hidden roots of trees that could grab a canoe and hold it fast. There were rocks, too—the jagged kind that could bite a hole right out of a boat. Though he could see none of these dangers, Bobby felt them lurking nearby, waiting for them to paddle the wrong way. Sooner or later, they would hit something. Sooner or later, they’d feel cold water rush into the bottom of the boat, feel the suck and drag of the lake pulling them down. …
Bobby’s teeth started to chatter, and he thrust a hand against his chin to stop the noise. He could not let his fears take over. He grasped his paddle tighter. What would Dad do in this situation? When he thought of his dad, the uncomfortable feeling he’d had earlier came back. Dad wouldn’t be out in the middle of the lake on Sunday morning. He’d be in church, keeping the Sabbath holy.
“Bobby? What are we going to do?” Jason’s voice sounded high and jiggly.
Bobby’s head felt as fuzzy as the mist, but after a minute a bit of light broke through. If his dad had been in this situation, he’d stand up for what he believed in. He would pray. Taking a deep breath, Bobby said, “I think we need to pray.”
Jason grunted. Bobby wasn’t sure if he was agreeing or just waiting until later to call him a loser. Right now, that didn’t seem to matter.
“Heavenly Father, I guess I’m not exactly where I should be right now,” Bobby whispered, “and I’m sorry about that. But we really need your help. Please help us find the way back to the shore. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Bobby opened his eyes, hoping for a miracle, but the fog did not lift. Instead, a voice that sounded a lot like Dad’s said two words, “Stand up.”
Yeah, I get it, Bobby thought. Stand up for what you believe in, and I will, I promise. But what about right now?
“Stand up,” the voice was more insistent.
Stand up? In a canoe? That was the last thing he wanted to do. Standing up in a canoe would probably get him a good dunking in the cold lake. But he couldn’t shake the certainty in that voice.
“Uh, Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to stand up for a second.”
“Are you nuts?” Jason must have started forward in his seat, because the canoe rocked. “Do you want us to end up at the bottom of the lake?”
“No, but I think the answer to my prayer is to stand up.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Do you really believe in that prayer stuff?”
Bobby took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I really do.”
He stood slowly, keeping his feet spread evenly on either side of the canoe bottom. As he rose, his head broke through the fog. He blinked, shading his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. The fog came only to his chest. Above the fog, the day still shone bright and clear. Off to his left, he could see the spot where they’d launched the canoe.
For the first time, Bobby really understood what his father had been trying to tell him. When you stand up for what you believe in, you come out into the light and everything becomes really clear.
He sat back down. “Pull right,” he said. “We’re going home.”