Gospel Story Finder

Claire and Sandra Hoey of Craigavon are members of the Portadown Ward. They talk about the walls that missionaries helped tumble for their family.
“The missionaries had been coming to our parents for a long time,” Sandra says. “But I never paid any attention. Then one night I was upstairs and I started listening. I got more interested in what they were saying. I decided it was time to see what it was all about.”
The discussions became more and more serious. The parents were baptized. An older brother was baptized. Then Sandra, then Claire.
After the baptisms, a friend “noticed that since I’ve joined the Church I’ve been happier,” Claire says. “She wanted to find out what it was that was making me happy.” Now the friend is taking the discussions in the Hoeys’ home. “I can remember asking the same questions, praying to resolve the same doubts,” Claire says. “It helps when I can tell her I’ve been through the same thing, and gained my own testimony.”

In Ethiopian, atmit means “thin, nourishing porridge.” The Church began using Atmit as a life-saving food supplement during the Ethiopian famine of 2003. It is an easily assimilated food made especially for children and the elderly—and it has saved tens of thousands of lives. It contains 50 percent fine oatmeal flour, 25 percent nonfat milk, 20 percent sugar, and 5 percent vitamins and minerals. After Church representatives received the formula in Ethiopia, they took it to nutritionists at Brigham Young University to verify the nutritional value. The Church began manufacturing Atmit in 2003 and since then has produced almost 1,500 tons (1350 tonnes) at the Church’s Welfare Services dairy processing facility in Salt Lake City.

Elder John Taylor was a man who stood up for his beliefs. Many people called him “Defender of the Faith.” One example of his courage happened when he went to Columbus, Ohio, to speak at a Church conference.
Church member 1: Elder Taylor, many people from the town will be there. Many of them wish to tar and feather you tonight.
Church member 2: Our advice is to not go and so avoid this danger altogether.
John: I did not come to Ohio to be scared off. I will go and speak. If you do not want to come with me, I will go alone.
When Elder Taylor arrived, he started by telling the congregation that he was from Canada—a country still ruled by a monarch.
John: Gentlemen, I now stand among men whose fathers fought for and won freedom, the greatest blessing ever given to the human family.
John: I have been informed that you plan to tar and feather me for my religious opinions. Is this what you have inherited from your fathers? If so, you now have a victim!
Elder Taylor then opened his vest.
John: Gentlemen, come on with your tar and feathers. Your victim is ready!
No one moved. No one spoke. No one came forward. After a pause, he spoke for three hours!
After the conference, community leaders came up to speak with him.
Leaders: Mr. Taylor, we apologize for any bad intentions of some of the community members.

Concerned because Farmington’s boys were often getting into mischief, Aurelia asked Eliza R. Snow, the sister of Lorenzo Snow, if there should not be an organization to help little boys grow into good men. Sister Snow relayed the suggestion to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the governing body of the Church following the death of Brigham Young. John Taylor, the President of the Quorum, gave his approval, and Sister Rogers was called upon to organize and serve as the president of the first Primary in the Church. She wisely decided that girls should also be part of the organization, and the first Primary was held in Farmington Ward on August 25, 1878.

“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.

I’ll never forget a lesson I learned as a young man, age 14, from a great leader. I went up to Scout Camp Kiesel east of Ogden in the summer of 1936. I reported at the lodge to our Scout executive. We called him “Uncle Dil.” You knew him as Elder S. Dilworth Young. Uncle Dil was our Scout executive. He had long legs. He was as tall as a pine tree to every young boy. He didn’t smile much, but he knew and loved boys.
I went up to the lodge and reported to him. I said, “Uncle Dil, I would like to pass my cooking merit badge.”
And then in his encouraging way he said, “Do you think you can cook without killing somebody?” You know, that really builds your self-image to begin with.
I said, “I hope so.”
Then he said, “Have you got a buddy who can run?”
I said, “What do you mean?”
He said, “Well, someone who can run up here to the lodge from your campsite every time you cook something.”
I said, “Well, Bob’s over here.”
“Well, all right, you send Bob up every time you cook something, and the examiner will come down to your campsite and taste it.”
I said, “Great! Who’s going to be the examiner?”
He said, “You’re looking at him.” Now there was nothing in the Scout book that said I had to pass my cooking merit badge to Uncle Dil. I mean, there were a lot of men in camp. Why Uncle Dil? Boy, I went back to my camp and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to become an Eagle Scout if I had to cook for Uncle Dil. I’ll never forget that week.
I had to cook an omelet. I sent Bob up the hill, and down the trail came Uncle Dil. I can see those long legs to this day. He came down to my campfire, tasted my omelet, and didn’t even smile. He just kind of grunted and walked away. Next I baked my oven bread in a reflector oven. I sent Bob up the hill, and down came Uncle Dil again. He tasted it and said, “It’s kind of doughy on one side, isn’t it?” Then I baked a bread twist on a stick over a fire. Then came the stew. I did everything that week, and never worked so hard in my life to try to please somebody. At the end of the week, just as we were breaking camp, I went up to the lodge and I said, “Uncle Dil, did I pass?”
He asked, “Did you do everything, LaMar?”
I said, “Well, remember you came down to our camp, and I cooked those meals for you.”
For the second time he asked, “Did you do everything?”
“Well, yeah, Uncle Dil, there was the omelet, the oven bread, the stew, the twist.” I enumerated all the things I had prepared.
For the third time he asked, “LaMar, did you do everything?” By then I was a little exasperated, I took my Scout book, opened it to the cooking merit badge, and went down every requirement, reading aloud and checking it off. I got down to requirement number ten. Number ten said, “Carve and serve a complete meal.” He looked at me and I said, “Well, I’ve done that many times at home.”
Then he said, “You’ll have no objection, then, to coming to my home a week from Sunday at noon to carve a roast and serve dinner for us.” I could have died right on the spot. I mean, no way did it say that I had to go to Uncle Dil’s home to carve a roast and serve a meal.
I prepared all week—we never ate so well in all our lives as we did that week. It was during the depths of the depression, but every day that week my mother had a different kind of roast, and I would carve it and make it look nice.
I got up on Sunday morning, nervous as could be. I went to priesthood meeting and Sunday School. Then I got on my bike and rode the two miles up the foothills to 24th Street and Taylor Avenue. Uncle Dil lived in a great big, three-story, red-brick house. The lawn kind of sloped down at the front. I took my bike and put it up by the old wooden porch. I climbed up on the porch and nervously knocked on the door. No answer. So I knocked a little louder. No answer! I said to myself, “Good, he’s forgotten all about me.” I got on my bike, and started to ride off of the lawn, and I had just reached the sidewalk when he came around the corner in his car with his family. They were just returning from church.
He asked, “Where are you going, LaMar?”
I said, “Just to park my bike over by a tree.” I didn’t dare tell him that mentally I was halfway home.
He got out of the car and invited me to go into the kitchen with Sister Young, “Aunt Gladys.” “She’ll have things there for you to do.” I went into the kitchen, and we began to get out the food that had been cooking during Sunday meetings.
Do you know that when you carve meat you carve it across the grain? Well, she brought out the roast. I had never seen a roast like that in my life, before or since. I couldn’t even find a grain. I went to work on it and tried to make sure that I got the slices even. I never worked so hard in my life. That roast had more gristle and bone than I had ever seen. Finally I got it all together and took it to the dining room.
We sat down at the table, and then Uncle Dil had the nerve to say, “LaMar, will you say the blessing, please?” Now there was nothing in the merit badge book that said I had to say the blessing at Uncle Dil’s house. Oh, I’d done it at home all right, but this was a little different. I said the blessing on the food, not sure if I was being judged on my cooking merit badge or my ability to pray.
Things went pretty well until halfway through the meal. Uncle Dil said, “LaMar, we’ve run out of bread. Will you go in the kitchen and slice some more bread?” Now that’s where I almost met my Waterloo.
I got into the kitchen. Aunt Gladys had baked fresh bread the day before. I was sure that Uncle Dil hadn’t sharpened his butcher knife for several years. I took that butcher knife and started on that bread, and the harder I sawed, the flatter that bread got. I’d get a slice off, and then I’d stretch it back to size and place it on the plate. Then I’d slice another slice and stretch it back. I sliced a third one and stretched it also. Then I got the fourth piece and stretched it. Let’s see—there was one for Uncle Dil, Aunt Gladys, Leonore, and young Dil. I decided that I didn’t want any more bread. I decided that four slices of bread were enough.
I took the bread back into the dining room, and we finally got through eating. Then I had to help clear up the table and do the dishes. When I got through, I said, “Uncle Dil, did I pass?”
He said, “LaMar, did you do everything?”
I said, “I surely hope so.”
My cooking merit badge was the toughest merit badge I ever passed in my life—lots tougher than lifesaving. But Uncle Dil was trying to teach me a correct principle. He was teaching me to do my best, to never take a shortcut, and I have never forgotten that lesson. I don’t think he did either.

A father should never consciously disappoint his wife or children. In 1989 there was a terrible earthquake in Armenia that killed over 30,000 people in four minutes. A distraught father went in frantic search of his son. He reached his son’s school only to find that it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. But he was driven by his promise to his son, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you!” He visualized the corner where his son’s classroom would be, rushed there, and started to dig through the debris, brick by brick.

Others came on the scene—the fire chief, then the police—warning him of fires and explosions, and urging him to leave the search to the emergency crews. But he tenaciously carried on digging. Night came and went, and then, in the 38th hour of digging, he thought he heard his son’s voice. “Armand!” he called out. Then he heard, “Dad!?! It’s me, Dad! I told the other kids not to worry. I told ’em that if you were alive, you’d save me and when you saved me, they’d be saved. …

“There are 14 of us left out of 33. … When the building collapsed, it made a wedge, like a triangle, and it saved us.”

“Come on out, boy!”

“No, Dad! Let the other kids out first, ’cause I know you’ll get me! No matter what, I know you’ll be there for me!”

Joseph’s first visit with Moroni was in 1823, but he wasn’t allowed to obtain the plates and translate the Book of Mormon until 1827. Part of the reason he had to wait four years was because he had to repent.
But Joseph was teachable. Each time Moroni visited, he tutored Joseph. This process helped Joseph become the leader God needed him to be.
Joseph was also humble. Moroni chastened Joseph several times. For example, Joseph said that when he first found the plates, he was, “tempted of the advisary and sought the Plates to obtain riches and kept not the commandment that I should have an eye single to the Glory of God.”2 Instead of being upset, Joseph took correction humbly, repented, and resolved to be better.3 He came to value the plates as sacred records meant to build up the kingdom of God.

I was forever changed upon hearing these words from Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve, spoken in the midst of his struggle with leukemia. He said, “I was doing some pensive pondering and these 13 instructive and reassuring words came into my mind: ‘I have given you leukemia that you might teach my people with authenticity.’” He then went on to express how this experience had blessed him with “perspective about the great realities of eternity. … Such glimpses of eternity can help us to travel the next 100 yards, which may be very difficult.”

When I entered the missionary training center, I realized that there was more to learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement and myself. Even though I’m of Tongan descent, I had never been to the South Pacific islands, and I struggled with the Tongan language. When I got to New Zealand, I had no idea what people were saying to me in Tongan. I had so much to say, but because I couldn’t speak the language, my words were few, simple, and broken. I nodded my head when people asked me questions. They laughed at me, and I laughed with them, but behind closed doors the laughter turned into tears of frustration and discouragement. I thought to myself, “I worked seven years to come out here for this?”
So I prayed to Heavenly Father. In Ether 12:27 we learn that our weaknesses can become strengths if we trust in Him. I told Him about my weaknesses and my trust in Him, and I got back up again … and again … and again. I started to rely even more on Christ and also on my strengths.

One day I smiled at Heather,
And Heather smiled at Jim;
Jim smiled at Eric,
And Eric smiled at Kim;
Kim smiled at Geoffrey,
And Geoffrey smiled at Jon;
Jon then smiled at someone else,
And so that smile went on—
It went from door to door,
It went across the sea,
It travelled all around the world
And came back home to me!

Now that the temple is nearby, it will be more accessible. We might even go once a week instead of once a year. In order to go, I may need to decline some hanging out with friends, maybe some birthday parties, or simply relaxing. But attending the temple will help me feel the Spirit and the love that Heavenly Father has for me.
Andrea G., 12, Lazio, Italy

And their wisdom goes a lot further than business tips shared during board games.
One valuable lesson Ark’s parents have taught him is to not allow bad influences around him to trip him up. “Here at my school, a lot of kids want me to try coffee, tea, cigarettes, and so forth.”
This is a regular conversation topic at home. “I’ve had a lot of conversations with my parents about this. They repeat themselves a lot,” he jokes.
Still, all that repetition has paid off. Each time he’s asked to do something against his beliefs, Ark draws strength from what his parents have taught him.

Another Relief Society President, Sister Sun, Sung Pi Hung, of Nantun Ward, Taichung South Taiwan Stake, has shared, “After holding a ministering interview with a companionship of ministering sisters, I meditated for several days about some challenges facing one of the companionship’s assigned families. I then received inspiration to recommend to our bishop that the mother of the family be called as a Relief Society teacher.” Now that the mother has begun serving as a Relief Society teacher, her family has been blessed with more reconciliation with God. The sisters of the ward have also been blessed through her service as a teacher.

My ruminations about my status in life have continued. I have been filling my journal with entries that mirror the true thoughts and feelings I have. Today came the realization that simply waiting for the white knight à la white charger is not the solution. In the preparation for marriage, spinning time into a web of uneasy, sighed frustrations has no place. It is a fallacy to assume that happiness begins the day some man thunders across the horizon. Certainly there is a sense of completion, a blossoming always evident in girls truly in love. It is this very glow that makes falling in love so attractive to those of us who are still single. I know, however, that true love takes a lot of work and sacrifice, and that happiness is for now not later. My personal challenge, then, is not to wait successfully but to live richly, fully, joyfully. I shall not wait for the right person; I shall be the right person.

When I finished my mission in January 2019, I was sure I would easily continue my daily scripture study. At first, that was true. After work, I would come home and read my scriptures like clockwork. I was happy to still be devoted to scripture reading and learning about the Savior.
That changed in June 2019 when my boyfriend returned from his mission. We started dating right away and were engaged six weeks later.
In the busyness of planning a wedding, working, going to college, and spending time with my fiancé, my scripture study soon dwindled to a few times a week. Because I was distracted with good things, I inadvertently neglected my relationship with the Lord.
My husband and I married in November 2019. Following the holidays, I tried to pick up where I had left off in the scriptures. For a few months, my husband and I successfully studied the scriptures together. Each morning for a few minutes we would read the scriptures and discuss a Come, Follow Me lesson before we ran out the door to work or school.
Then the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Without rigid school and work schedules, we lost our routine of scripture study in the morning. We studied only now and again, and our relationship with the Lord suffered. Even after restrictions were lifted and we returned to church, we still struggled to study.
My husband and I recently recommitted to reading our scriptures. We’re still not perfect at it, but we try each day to strengthen our testimonies. I am grateful for the many chances the Lord gives us to repent, do better, and be better.

“Before I joined the Church,” says Bernabé Pardo, another recent convert, “the only friends I had were people who would go out to drink. But now that I am a member, I have many friends—real friends. They invite me to read the Book of Mormon with them. They invite me over for family home evening. They serve each other. I have gone on service projects with them. My life is completely different now. I have received many, many blessings. I pay my tithing, and the Lord has blessed me.”

Long, long ago in the land of Israel, there lived two brothers who loved each other very much. They were poor wheat farmers, and they shared but one field, which yielded very little harvest during the year. The younger brother lived on one side of the field in a two-room house with his wife and children, and the older brother lived alone in a one-room house on the opposite side of the field.
One night during harvest-time, the older brother awoke suddenly. He sat up in his bed, thinking, It’s not fair that I should receive an equal share of the wheat with my brother. He should have a greater share because he has a wife and children to feed besides himself. It must be very difficult for him, yet he never complains.
So the older brother got up from his bed, dressed, and went out to where he kept his wheat. It took him several trips across the dark field to carry a goodly portion of his wheat to his brother’s wheat pile. When he returned home, he slept peacefully the rest of the night.
Later that same night the younger brother awoke suddenly. He sat up in his bed, thinking, It’s not fair that I should receive an equal share of the wheat with mybrother. I have a wife and children. When I grow old, I will have someone to care for me, to provide food for me. My brother has no children. When he grows old, he will be alone. He should have the greater share of the wheat so that he can sell some of it to provide for his old age.
So the younger brother got up from his bed, dressed, and went out to where he kept his wheat. It took him several trips across the dark field to carry a goodly portion of his wheat to his brother’s wheat pile. When he returned home, he slept peacefully the rest of the night.
The next day each brother looked in amazement at his own pile of wheat, only to discover that it had not diminished!
The brothers again worked in the field, divided the wheat, and added wheat to each other’s pile during the night. And so it continued for many nights during the harvest.
One night as the older brother was carrying his wheat across the field, he saw his younger brother carrying his wheat across the field. They stopped and looked at each other and at what the other one was carrying. Then they understood why the wheat piles never grew smaller. They both realized how much they loved and cared for each other.
The brothers dropped their bundles of wheat to the ground, ran to each other, and embraced.
God saw the love that these brothers had for each other. He blessed their field, and the field became more and more fertile. The brothers grew much wheat together, enough for both to live on when they grew older.

When Spencer W. Kimball was President of the Church, many people felt afraid of war and other disasters. President Kimball told Church members to not be afraid. He taught them that they could prepare for difficult times by saving money, clothes, and food, and by working harder to share the gospel.

A young father recently learned of the passing of his extraordinary second-grade teacher. In memory of her, he wrote: “Of all the feelings and experiences I remember, the feeling most prevalent in my mind is ‘comfort.’ She may have taught me spelling, grammar, and math, but far more importantly she taught me to love being a child. In her classroom, it was OK to spell a word wrong here and there; ‘We’ll work on it,’ she’d say. It was OK to spill or tear or smudge; ‘We’ll fix it and we’ll clean it up,’ she would respond. It was OK to try, OK to stretch, OK to dream, and OK to enjoy those pleasures that come from the insignificant things that only children find exciting.”