Gospel Story Finder

Centuries ago, in the great age of exploration, expeditions were outfitted and ships containing confident and adventurous crews set sail on uncharted seas in search of a literal fountain of youth. The legend of the day promised that somewhere in the “great out there” was a magical fountain containing the purest of water, and all one had to do to regain the vibrancy of youth and to perpetuate this vigor was to drink deeply of the flowing water from this fountain.
Ponce de León, who sailed with Columbus, made subsequent voyages of exploration, searching in the Bahamas and other Caribbean areas in full trust of the legend that this elixir of youth could be found. His efforts, like those of many others, yielded no such discovery, for in the divine plan of our God, we enter mortal existence to taste of youth but once.

As his condition worsened, we had the chance to say our goodbyes, full of tears but also gratitude for our time together. The night before he passed away, he had a moment of clarity in the hospital. Not only did he see those of us visiting in the room, but he also saw people dressed in white around him and believed he was in the temple. We knew his time on this earth was short. On November 23, 2023, after eight months of fighting, José passed away. I held his hand until his last breath.

The Scouts and their leaders arrived in the town of Green River on a Monday morning and started building the rafts at a state park where a boat ramp provides easy access to the river. It took a little longer than expected to assemble everything. In fact, launching was delayed until the following morning. But once underway it didn’t take long for the fun to begin.

“It was like a moving summer camp,” said Brother Ivie’s 13-year-old son, Brian. “You didn’t have to worry about getting bored. The scenery was always changing.”

The Green River Canyon is a place where the earth gets down to basics. Rock and water, water and sand, sometimes some red rock to add brightness to the land. The Missouri-wide water twists through curve after wandering curve, past side canyons where Indian petroglyphs and explorer’s signatures are etched in the stone of thousand-foot cliffs reaching to a cloudless blue sky.

“It’s such a big place,” said Adam Pitcher, 13. “A massive river, massive canyons, huge rocks. How could there ever be so much rock in one place? It’s strange to imagine a place so big, but so empty.”

“It’s kind of nice to watch the world’s history book open up as you go down the different layers,” said Brother Ivie’s other son, 14-year-old Richard. “Those rocks must be some of the oldest rocks in the world. It makes you think back to the creation. You look from the beginning back up to the tops of the cliffs.”

And then there was always the water. If you got hot or bored you just jumped in the river.

“My dad, my brother Richard, and I would all go floating at the same time,” said Chris Higbee, 12. “At night, Dad and I would sleep next to each other on the deck and Richard would sleep up on the second level. We’d just lie there and talk to each other. It was neat. I’ll tell my kids about it some day.”

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw my Scoutmaster dive off the second deck,” said Andrew Owens, 12. “I didn’t know he could be crazy like that. But he got right in there and did the same things we did. He likes to have fun, too.”

Jim Oldroyd, 12, told of running across flat places on the bank where silt had accumulated.

“At first it was solid, but then we’d keep running on it and it turned into mud,” he said.

“The mud’s buoyant, so you can’t sink, and it’s a lot warmer than the water, because it’s been out in the sun. A warm mud bath was just the thing to get rid of mosquitoes,” Richard Ivie said. “Of course, when you got out you looked like a chocolate statue.”

Mosquitoes were a constant plague to the adventurers. “They were the worst where there were plants and bushes,” said Scott Hafen, 14. “When we tried to pull in to shore and tie up, they’d mob us. And they’d buzz and bite all night long while we were trying to sleep.”

But despite the whining attacks of buzzbombing mosquitoes, everyone who floated the Green would return home enchanted. They’d tell of visiting Geyser Springs and Anvil Bottom, of renaming Trinity Alcove “Cobra Swamp,” in honor of the shape of a nearby rock formation. They’d brag of their climb up the steep sides of Bowknot Bend, where fast winds snatched some of their hats and tossed them thousands of feet down the canyon. And they’d tell how the river makes a nine-mile elbow to come back within 600 yards of where it started.

Jason Von Zomeren, 16, would remember how he cooled off watermelons by floating them next to him in the river. Scott Hanson, assistant adviser to the teachers quorum in the 27th Ward, would remember demonstrating his black powder rifle, teaching the young men how to load and shoot it. Months later he would still be talking about how the river trip had taught everyone to reach out to others.

“It’s a lot easier to get your boat to shore if there’s someone there to throw a line to,” he said.

Even though the Green River seems to meander, the current at the center is an express lane. At the end of four days, the rafts had traveled 68 miles. It was time for the Friday night campfire, the closing ceremony of the trip.

Each boy’s parents had sent a letter for him to read.

“We read the letters and then just thought for a few minutes. Then we bore our testimonies to each other and said how much we’d grown closer by working together,” said Jeff Barrett, 14. “People don’t always tell you how they feel right at the time, but we all did. You told everybody how you felt.”

He remembered one special incident from the trip:

“When we were coming in the last night, there was a storm and it was blowing. We all tried to row against the current and the wind. Our two leaders, the Scoutmaster and my dad, were wearing themselves out trying to get the boat in. We had to take everything down that would prevent us from getting to shore. If we missed the landing, we’d be gone down river for 70 miles more. So we said a prayer for help. After that, the wind died down for a minute and the rain stopped. We made it in before it started up again.”

The next morning, as tubes were deflated and lashings untied, as rafts became mere piles of poles to be loaded onto trucks, Brother Ivie said the journey down the Green could not have been better.

We once had two beautiful long-haired kittens at our house. They lived in a Garden of Eden because of the way we pampered and spoiled them. They loved it—all that food and warmth and tender loving care. About the worst opposition they had to endure was being dressed up in doll clothes, which they didn’t seem to mind very much.
One Saturday morning the kittens, along with our children, were relaxing sleepily in front of the television, enjoying their nice life. As we turned off the television and began giving out assignments for Saturday morning housework, our eight-year-old daughter looked longingly at the still-purring pets. “I don’t want to do my work,” she declared. “I would rather be a kitten.”

Our family made this diorama of the First Vision as we got ready for general conference. We had fun working together and sharing this with our friends.
Felicity, Peter, and Talmage C., ages 9, 7, and 3, Wisconsin, USA

I remember so well when a matter was being discussed where different members of the Twelve had differing views and expressed them freely. When President McKay summed up the discussion and said, “This is what I think we should do,” I turned to the brother next to me and said:

“Isn’t it wonderful to see how he always comes up with the right answer, and we all seem to feel it is the right answer?”

My colleague turned to me and said, “You are listening to a prophet of God.” This is how we know that any decision that is made becomes the unanimous decision of the group, regardless of the feeling of any member prior to the decision.

Logan had turned eight years old last week. Today was a special day—he was going to be baptized. He and his father dressed in white clothes and took their seats near the baptismal font.
Logan’s brother-in-law, Ryan, was asked to give a talk at the baptism. After the opening song and prayer, Ryan read the fourth article of faith: “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
Then Ryan placed a blue paper square on the floor at one side of the room and a white paper square at the other side. “Logan, come stand on this blue square,” he said. “Can you get from the blue square to the white square without stepping on the carpet?”
Logan looked across the room and shook his head. “It’s too far.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s too far for you to get there by yourself. And do you think you can return to Heavenly Father without help?”
Logan shook his head again.
Ryan placed six more squares on the floor, each square a different color. “Heavenly Father has given us steps to bring us back to Him. Do you know what they are?”
Logan thought of the article of faith Ryan had just read. “The first one is faith.” Ryan nodded as Logan stepped onto the red square. “And the second one is repentance.” Logan moved to the yellow square.
Ryan pointed to the green square. “This one represents one of the steps you’re taking today.”
Smiling, Logan stepped onto the green square.
“Baptism,” he said. He was much closer to the white square now, but there were still three more in between.
“The orange square represents receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Ryan said, “another step you’ll take today.”
Logan stepped onto the orange square.
“What do you think the last two squares represent?” Ryan asked.
Logan thought for a moment. The fourth article of faith included only the first four principles and ordinances of the gospel. He had learned in Primary that baptism was the first of many covenants he would make. “Does the next square stand for the temple?” he asked.
“Right!” Ryan beamed. “After your baptism and confirmation, you’ll prepare to receive the priesthood and temple ordinances. What do you think the last square stands for?”
Logan couldn’t remember any more steps. Then it dawned on him—it was the simple truth taught by prophets and scriptures. “Stay righteous,” he said.
“Exactly,” Ryan said. “After making all of these covenants, we must stay faithful.”
Logan sat down and Ryan finished his talk. Then Logan and his father entered the baptismal font. With the authority of the priesthood, Logan’s father baptized him. After they had changed into dry clothes, Logan was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“Remember the Spirit you feel right now,” Ryan said afterward as he hugged Logan. “Try to keep it with you for the rest of your life.”
Logan knew he would never forget this special day—a day he had taken two important steps toward his heavenly home.

I remember the occasion of more than 50 years ago when, as a missionary, I was speaking in an open-air meeting in Hyde Park, London. As I was presenting my message, a heckler interrupted to say, “Why don’t you stay with the doctrine of the Bible which says in John [4:24], ‘God is a Spirit’?”
I opened my Bible to the verse he had quoted and read to him the entire verse: “God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”
I said, “Of course God is a spirit, and so are you, in the combination of spirit and body that makes of you a living being, and so am I.”
Each of us is a dual being of spiritual entity and physical entity. Jesus’s declaration that God is a spirit no more denies that He has a body than does the statement that I am a spirit while also having a body.

Shelley Thomsen, a Laurel in the Sherwood Park First Ward, Edmonton Alberta Bonnie Doon Stake, has an eye for fashion and a talent for making her visions into reality. When a local clothing manufacturer held a fashion design contest, one of Shelley’s dress designs made it to the final fashion show—an accomplishment Shelley never dreamed of.
“I just entered for fun,” says Shelley. “Making it to the finals and having them pay for the fabric and everything to actually make the dress was just an added bonus.”
Shelley had such a good time that she plans to enter again next year, but as for long-term goals, she has other things in mind.
“I think that maybe I’d like to be a sign-language interpreter. I would also really like to go on a sign-language mission. I think that would be neat.”

They became involved in other competitions after a man they played basketball with in Denver told them they ought to get involved in track. This man sent information about national wheelchair competitions, and the two started working out on the BYU track. That was in 1976.

That same year they went to Denver and placed first in some track events there. Then they went to San Jose and placed and on to the Nationals in New York and the Olympics in Toronto, Canada. Forty-six countries participated in the Olympics. Together, Mike and Curt brought home three gold, one silver, and three bronze medals. That’s quite a record for their first year of competition!

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.”

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Coach: You guys were awful! We’re holding an extra practice tomorrow, and I’m going to work you hard! If anybody has a problem with that, step forward.
Coach: What’s your beef, Matt?
Matt: Tomorrow’s Sunday.
Coach: I know the days of the week, Matt. What’s your point?
Matt: I go to church on Sunday.
Coach: All day?
Matt: No, but Sunday isn’t for work or play. It’s for thinking about Heavenly Father and for visiting the sick and stuff.
Coach: Your team is sick. Come visit us.
Matt: I guess I can’t explain it so you’ll understand. But I won’t be at practice tomorrow.
Coach: And your starting spot won’t be here next week.
Mandy: You’re quiet, Matt. Is it because you lost?
Matt: I’m not sure I did.

Our Heavenly Father loves his children. He wants us to be happy, and he has shown us the way. I recall a lecture given in the Salt Lake Tabernacle some years ago in which the speaker said that, in reading the four Gospels, he discovered that Jesus, in referring to God, always called him Father: our Father, your Father, my Father, the Father; and that in these four Gospels Jesus used the word Father 148 times in referring to God.

This was the place he came to think, ponder, and pray. The president was silhouetted against the red sunset sky as he slowly rocked in the lawn chair. Seen from the back porch of the mission home, the sprawling city was beautiful, but he hardly noticed the view as he thought of the thousands who still ignorantly hungered for the truth.
With Elder Cardon’s release just two weeks away, the president would need a new assistant. Which of the 120 missionaries should he call? One by one, he considered each of the current zone leaders. As thoughts about one elder focused in his mind, he pondered, “In many ways, he is the most experienced and qualified of all my leaders. His zone follows him well, but he is also the source of many of my problems. Sometimes he sets out to accomplish a task (and does a good job), but never reports to me what he has done. I’m always being surprised and having to change plans. I ask him to do something and he never quite carries it out but does what he thinks should be done and tries to convince me that was what was really needed. I’ve discussed these things with him, but he does not seem willing to accept my judgment. No … I think I’d better present another name to the Lord.”
It seems that these steps, like all things in the gospel, need to be learned line upon line. Often we get these steps upside down. We want to be able to act on our own, but we have not demonstrated our ability to do what we are told, we have not demonstrated our willingness to ask or listen, and we have not made many recommendations that are acceptable to our leader. To be able to act on our own, bringing periodic reports, is a level of followership that is reserved for those who have earned the trust of their leaders through performance. In order for a leader to allow a follower great freedom, he must first have confidence in the follower’s competence. The missionary previously mentioned did not develop these qualities. He did not follow directions and acted on his own without first gaining the trust of his leaders. He also failed to make reports.

Leaving behind relatives, a culture, and a land they loved must have been a daunting sacrifice, but the hardships were in many ways just beginning. Arriving in Calgary with only a suitcase, a baby buggy, and CAD $32, my parents were in great need.
The Canadian members immediately started serving my family, generously providing help with transportation, shopping, and finding a home to rent. Within a week my parents and my grandma had a home furnished with beds, a table and chairs, a couch, a crib, bedding, dishes, and even some food in the cupboards. My mother wrote in her journal how surprising and thrilling it was to see these unexpected furnishings and how grateful she was for the service given.
Along with deep feelings of gratitude, however, were other emotions. Culture shock was very real and difficult to deal with. The first year of living in Calgary was filled with English classes and frigid walks to work for Dad. They were doing everything possible to establish a sense of home, but still this was a trying time with so much change. The Saints of their new ward in Calgary worked through the language barrier to become a support system to the newly arrived members. Each Sunday my family gained strength as they attended sacrament meeting to renew their covenants, relying on the Spirit to teach them English.

Summer ended, and I found myself flying off to Iceland. The weather was atrocious, the work was hard, and after the first cold, wet month, I was overcome with discouragement.
I tried to save myself by concentrating on work and studying more, but my confidence continued to sink.
One dark day, when the Icelandic police required everyone to stay inside because of Arctic cold and high winds, I sat on the couch in our apartment. Running through my cross-referenced collection of memories, I stumbled across the image of myself clinging to the cliffs at home. I looked at the blizzard outside and realized I was once again in just that position. I’d swum to the cliff and done all that I could, but my own strength could carry me no more.
I remembered the scripture in Matthew that said, “But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him” (Matt. 14:30–31).
My confidence in myself exhausted, unable to climb farther, I had no choice but to humble myself and reach for the Savior’s hand. My mission president gave me a priesthood blessing that I would find the assurance I sought. I trusted him. Although I saw no angels or pillars of light, and although the storms continued, I discovered that I had received the gift of strength I needed.

Two ministering brothers felt a strong prompting to visit a man who has not been regular in church. As they resisted this prompting, it became stronger until they decided to follow the impression to visit the man in his home. On getting there, they knocked for several minutes without any response from the man. They thought that the man was not home and wondered if they should leave. Thankfully, they tarried a while and decided to knock again. This brother finally decided to open the door. On entering the room, they noticed the man was considering extreme self-harm. Those thoughts were immediately negated by the brethren as they were able to share the Savior’s love with him. Because they were mindful of their fellow man, they were able to hold up the Savior’s light, as instructed in 3 Nephi 18:24: “Hold up your light that it may shine unto to world. Behold I am the light which ye shall hold up”.

My uncle is an artist and makes small wooden ships in glass bottles. It takes a lot of time, concentration, and effort to make them.
One day I saw all of his tools and noticed how each tool was used for a specific detail or molding on the ship. As I watched him work, I was surprised by how he would use the tools to make these ships. I was reminded of the story of Nephi building a ship (see 1 Nephi 17–18). He built it according to the Lord’s way, not man’s way. God gives us tools to build our own ships in His way. The scriptures, faith, and the love of God are tools that I must use in my own life to carefully construct my own ship without any cracks. I am learning each day to be a disciple of the Lord.
María Mercedes G., Monagas, Venezuela

Elder Yokunidu Sato joined the Church six years ago in his hometown of Sapporo, Japan. He was formerly a Buddhist and is the only Latter-day Saint in his family. He says he had “the faith to go on a mission because President Kimball wanted all young men to go on a mission.” Elder Sato had learned a little English in school and then studied English at the Church’s Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah. He now teaches the gospel in both English and Japanese.

His companion, Elder David Gathers, from Pine Bluff, North Carolina, did not attend the Missionary Training Center as a foreign-speaking missionary to learn Japanese, but he has learned so well from Elder Sato that he can now teach the discussions in Japanese.

Elders Sato and Gathers were assigned to Salt Lake City’s Temple Square where the Salt Lake Temple, the Tabernacle, the Assembly Hall and two Church visitors’ centers are located. Beautifully landscaped, Temple Square attracts approximately two million tourists each year. One such tourist was twenty-one-year-old Chitomi Tanaka, from Japan, who had come to Utah to visit a friend. After the elders took her on a tour of Temple Square, they asked if she would like to know more about the Church. Chitomi read the Book of Mormon and knew it was true, but she had concerns about joining the Church. The elders challenged her to be baptized and set a date, but as that and later baptismal dates approached, Chitomi decided not to be baptized. Finally, after five months of studying the gospel, she was baptized. She has since returned to Japan, where, Elder Sato reports, she is a faithful member of the Church.

Elder Sato and Elder Gathers have also had the opportunity to teach a Vietnamese lady and her daughter.

As a young seminary student, I learned a valuable lesson: just as one cannot fully understand the taste of salt without tasting it, one cannot fully grasp the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon without reading, pondering, and praying about it. When I completed the Book of Mormon for the first time, I was struck by the cycle of righteousness and wickedness among the people and the eventual destruction of the Nephites. I resolved then to strive for righteousness and to practice repentance in my youth.