Gospel Story Finder

In May 2010, over 1,200 youth from eight stakes in British Columbia and the Bellingham Washington Stake gathered in Vancouver for a temple celebration marking the completion of the Vancouver British Columbia Temple.
The celebration, titled “A Beacon to the World,” highlighted the land, history, and people of British Columbia. Part of the celebration included the youth’s guiding 172 of the area’s oldest Church members down to the floor for recognition. After dancing and performing music for the program, the youth closed the program by joining hands and circling around a replica of the temple.
Sabrina Blackmore, 17, of the Blackmore Ward in the Prince George British Columbia Stake, rode 15 hours on a bus to participate in the event. “This is the best experience ever,” she said.

Within the week, I listened to one of the brethren who has just returned from the mission field. He has been out nearly five years, and he told of some of the experiences in the field. He told of people that had illness and the doctors did everything they could for them, but they could not heal them. But the humble missionaries, the humble men who held the priesthood, placed their hands upon the heads of those who were afflicted and rebuked their ailments, and they were healed.

In Far West, Missouri, the mob lined up about 3,500 men, preparing to attack and destroy every Mormon there. There were between two and three hundred, including two or three Jack-Mormons (in those days that term meant a Mormon sympathizer). Aware of those three, a man came with a flag of truce and said, “We’re going to wipe you out, but we understand that a few of you aren’t Mormon: they can come with us.” Those non-Mormons decided they would stay. Then said the Prophet to the man with the white flag, “Go back and tell your general to withdraw his troops or I will send them to hell.”61 John Taylor, who was present that day, said years later, “I thought that was a pretty bold stand to take.”62 That may be the understatement of the nineteenth century. The man went back with his flag, and the militia withdrew.

After I was baptized, I had a lot of hard times with my family. Sometimes they wanted me to stay home on Sunday, but I would choose to go to church instead. Most of the time it was hard trying to keep on the covenant path.
Some of my family members have been against the Church and have told me that I made the wrong choice to join. When they tell me this, these words come to my mind: “I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live. I know that the Church is true.” These thoughts have helped me hold on to the truth.

A young lad stood at the pulpit in Sunday School trying to give an assigned talk, but he could not get the words out. His giant of a father walked from the congregation to stand beside his son, put his arm around him, and said, “I know Larry has prepared his talk and that he’ll be able to give it. He is a little frightened, so I’ll just speak to you for a moment and then I know he’ll be ready.” The father stood by his boy with his arm around him, and in a moment the lad gave his talk. And many wept.

My son Dallin has always loved reptiles. I, on the other hand, have never liked them. He was allowed to own a reptile on the condition that whatever he chose was able to fit in the hose of a vacuum, just in case it got out of its cage while he was at school. We went through several options, from frogs to iguanas, before settling on two velvety leopard geckos named Fuzz and Diane.

Dallin’s new buddies joined our family when he was seven years old. One aspect of owning geckos that I did not anticipate was the need to feed them crickets—live crickets—once a week. For years Dallin and I made “cricket runs.” They were rarely convenient, usually happening late at night while trying to beat the clock before the pet store closed.

Diane only lived for three years, but Fuzz lived for many years, healthy and happy. Toward the end of Dallin’s senior year in high school, he was assigned to give a demonstration for his public speaking class. He prodded my husband and me for ideas. We suggested he discuss leopard geckos because he already knew so much about them and could bring Fuzz in as a prop. Dallin then told us that Fuzz had died.

“Are you serious? When did he die?” I asked in disbelief.

Dallin told us that Fuzz had died a week before.

“He’s in my room, but don’t worry. He won’t stink. He’s double-bagged.”

After seeing our astonishment, Dallin explained, “I’m doing an experiment—I want to watch him decay.”

Dallin’s experiment turned out to be more than watching him decay. He would stall the process by putting Fuzz in the freezer for a couple of weeks and then bring him out to thaw and decay some more.

A year later, when Dallin was on his mission, I was cleaning out the freezer and found Fuzz, still double-bagged, in the back. Since I was preparing a package to send to Dallin, I thought it would be funny to pass on his little experiment. I carefully put Fuzz in a box, wrapped it in beautiful black and white polka-dot paper, and tucked it neatly into Dallin’s care package with a note that read, “There is a surprise in your package.” Then I anxiously waited for his response.

“I’ve thought about that gecko since getting it back,” he wrote. “Not so much about the actual gecko, but about all of the time spent on car rides every week to get crickets and run other errands, listening to your ideas, stories, and your testimony while in the car. It was a good excuse to have to go and get to talk to you (not that I talked much, but I did listen).”

Buying crickets. Who knew? As parents we can’t always plan the timing of our influence. It often just happens. It may be when we are tucking our kids in bed at night, riding a ski lift together, or just running errands in the car. We have to take time to be with our children.

I would like to share with you a story of my home life and my growing up years. To set the stage, you need to know that I am the youngest of three children. In fact, my siblings and I were separated in age by several years, so by the time I was a teenager, my parents had been married for several years and were well-seasoned in this thing called marriage. Growing up, I had never seen my parents argue or even raise their voices at each other, so you can imagine how I felt the first time my husband and I had a disagreement. Thoughts crossed my mind that I must be a poor wife, or that I may have picked the wrong guy to spend eternity with. After all, I was sure I was right and he was wrong.

It was not until later in life when I spent some tender time with my mother. This is when I learned how mad my dad had been when mom cut her long hair off. She said he wouldn’t even talk to her for days. I also came to the realization that all those times when my mom would go missing and I would find her sitting in an idle car out in the garage, this was her time spent communicating with her Father in Heaven, praying that He would help her get through those less than perfect days. It was then that I realized what I had hoped for at the beginning of my marriage was something my mother and father had worked many, many years to develop.

Holiness to the Lord in everyday life looks like a young returning missionary who learned to let God prevail in his life. Earlier, when asked to bless someone who was very sick, this missionary said, “I have faith; I will bless him to recover. Yet,” the returning missionary says, “I learned in that moment to pray not for what I wanted but for what the Lord knew the person needed. I blessed the brother with peace and comfort. He later passed away peacefully.”

I hearkened back to the teachings that came from my home: I was taught obedience as a very young man. I’m happy for that teaching. I’ll never forget the time when I was eighteen and signed a professional baseball contract. As I was ready to go to spring training for the first time, my mother said, “Glen, I’ve got a piece of advice for you.”
“Yes, Mother dear, what would that be?”
“Put on a clean pair of socks every day.”
I thought, “Gee, that’s good advice.” But after the eighth day I couldn’t even get my shoes on. As a result of that training, when I was asked to occupy this position, I immediately said yes.

Throughout his life, Heber J. Grant recognized the Lord as the source of his strength. Called to be an Apostle when he was only twenty-five years old, he was plagued for four agonizing months with doubts about his worthiness and preparation for the calling. But during a missionary journey on the Navajo Indian reservation in Arizona, the young Apostle had an unforgettable experience that silenced his doubts forever.
He later recounted that as he was riding alone on horseback, “I seemed to see, and I seemed to hear, what to me is one of the most real things in all my life. I seemed to see a Council in Heaven. I seemed to hear the words that were spoken. I listened to the discussion with a great deal of interest. … In this Council the Savior was present, my father was there, and the Prophet Joseph Smith was there.” Young Heber listened as the council discussed the vacancies that needed to be filled in the Quorum of the Twelve. “It was given to me,” he said, “that the Prophet Joseph Smith and my father mentioned me and requested that I be called to that position. I sat there and wept for joy. It was given to me that I had done nothing to entitle me to that exalted position, except that I had lived a clean, sweet life. It was given to me that … the Prophet Joseph and my father desired me to have that position, and it was because of their faithful labors that I was called, and not because of anything I had done of myself or any great thing that I had accomplished. It was also given to me that that was all these men, the Prophet and my father, could do for me; from that day it depended upon me and upon me alone as to whether I made a success of my life or a failure. …
“From that day I have never been bothered, night or day, with the idea that I was not worthy to stand as an Apostle, and I have not been worried since the last words uttered by Joseph F. Smith to me [Elder Grant succeeded Joseph F. Smith as President of the Church]: ‘The Lord bless you, my boy, the Lord bless you; you have got a great responsibility. Always remember this is the Lord’s work and not man’s. The Lord is greater than any man. He knows whom He wants to lead His Church, and never makes any mistakes. The Lord bless you.’” (In Conference Report, April 1941, pages 4–5.)

Throughout the teachings about the Martyrdom, testimony is one of the central themes. What was to become of the Church and the priesthood that the Prophet restored and of the Saints who believed in Joseph’s testimony? Elders Parley P. Pratt, Brigham Young, and most of the other members of the Quorum of the Twelve were on missions throughout the Eastern States. In Parley P. Pratt’s autobiography (PPP, chapter 42, pp. 290–96), he writes of the mood of the day at the time: “A day or two previous to this circumstance [the Martyrdom] I had been constrained by the Spirit to start prematurely for home, without knowing why or wherefore.” Parley, with his companion and brother William Pratt, followed the prompting of the Spirit and booked passage on a canal boat from Utica, New York, to Buffalo, New York. Parley wrote,

As we conversed together on the deck, a strange and solemn awe came over me, as if the powers of hell were let loose. I was so overwhelmed with sorrow I could hardly speak. . . . I . . . exclaimed—“Brother William, . . . let us observe an entire and solemn silence, for this is a dark day, and the hour of triumph for the powers of darkness.” [p. 292]

William and Parley then separated, and Parley took a steamer for Chicago.

The steamer touched at a landing in Wisconsin, some fifty or sixty miles from Chicago, and here some new passengers came on board and brought the news of the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum Smith. Great excitement prevailed on board, there being a general spirit of exultation and triumph at this glorious news, as it was called. . . .

Many passengers now gathered about me and tauntingly inquired what the Mormons would do now, seeing their Prophet and leader was killed.

To these taunts and questions I replied, that they [the Mormons] would continue their mission and spread the work he had restored, in all the world. Observing that nearly all the prophets and Apostles who were before him had been killed, and also the Saviour of the world, and yet their death did not alter the truth nor hinder its final triumph.

At this reply many of them seemed astonished. . . .

Landing in Chicago I found great excitement, and the press had issued extras announcing the triumph of the murderous mob in killing the Smiths. [pp. 292–93]

It took Parley two or three days to go to Peoria, Illinois. He then had a distance of 105 miles to go on foot to Nauvoo. He “walked along over the plains of Illinois, lonely and solitary,” and reflected on what he would find in Nauvoo. His thoughts turned to the grieving widows of the two martyrs:

How shall I meet an entire community bowed down with grief and sorrow unutterable? What shall I say? . . . I walked onward, weighed down as it were unto death. When I could endure it no longer, I cried out aloud, saying: O Lord! in the name of Jesus Christ I pray Thee, show me what these things mean, and what I shall say to Thy people? On a sudden the Spirit of God came upon me, and filled my heart with joy and gladness indescribable. . . . The Spirit said unto me: “Lift up your head and rejoice; for behold! it is well with my servants Joseph and Hyrum. My servant Joseph still holds the keys of my kingdom in this dispensation, and he shall stand in due time on the earth, in the flesh, and fulfil that to which he is appointed. Go and say unto my people in Nauvoo, that they shall continue to pursue their daily duties and take care of themselves, and make no movement in Church government to reorganize or alter anything until the return of the remainder of the Quorum of the Twelve. But exhort them that they continue to build the House of the Lord which I have commanded them to build in Nauvoo.” [pp. 293–94]

Parley went on his way rejoicing and arrived in Nauvoo ready to spread his message to the people.

In confirmation that the message was right, I found them already renewing their labors on the Temple, under the direction of John Taylor and Willard Richards, who were members of our quorum, and were in jail with the prophets when they were murdered—Taylor being wounded with four bullets, and Richards escaping uninjured.

Parley Pratt concludes this chapter with the following:

President Brigham Young was unanimously chosen and upheld in the Presidency of the whole Church; the keys of which he held by virtue of his apostleship, being the senior and President of the highest quorum [the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles] of the Church then living in the flesh. [p. 296]

We won the championship after a very interesting playoff game. I drew the assignment to pitch. In the top of the eighth inning the score was nothing to nothing. The first batter against me singled sharply to right field and took second on a fielder’s choice. Have you got the picture? One out, winning run on second. The batter I was now facing hit .326 for the season. I worked him to a two-two count. He fouled several pitches and then I got the ball too close to the center—a horrible mistake.

He singled sharply to left center and the ball went out there like a bullet, hit the ground on one bounce, and went to the center fielder. Normally that would score a runner from second very easily, but the ball carried such velocity I am sure the runner did not understand it. We had a great center fielder; he took the ball on one hop, threw a perfect strike to the plate, and caught the runner by a good six inches. The umpire hollered, “You’re out!” This man got up—and I had never heard such foul language in my life. I was back behind the catcher by this time, the normal position for the pitcher on a throw to the plate.

The umpire bellowed, “You’re out of the game! Out!” And he ejected him, which he should have. As I was walking back to the mound, the umpire—not a Mormon—about ready to replace his mask, turned to me and said, “Paul, forgive him; he doesn’t understand.” How grateful I am to be a Latter-day Saint.

So, remarkably, just this past week I was privileged to spend a few minutes alone with our living Prophet, President Russell M. Nelson’s office. I told him I was preparing a message for you here today (BYU-H) and mentioned that I had been thinking about his insightful and remarkable statement, “If there is anything I’ve learned in my 94 years of living, it is that a life with God is far better — more filled with hope — than one without Him.” He positively responded, “That is the bottom line, don’t you think?” After responding, “Yes,” I then mentioned that I had been also pondering this intimate and friendly invitation from the Lord to Enoch, “walk with me,” and asked if President Nelson had thoughts about this phrase that he might share with them [you]. He thought for a moment, and then exclaimed, “It’s the covenant path!” Continuing he went through our covenants starting with baptism and on through the ordinances in the temple, explaining that “we come unto Him and walk in His ways, taking His name upon us, thereby.” Then he exclaimed, “As we remain faithful during this very brief period of mortality, which just goes ‘whoosh,’ then we have a little interview, which will be a wonderful, glorious experience, and receive a big welcome!” Finishing on a serious note, he said, “If you have chosen the covenant path, you get all that! If you choose otherwise, you miss all that!”

Let me share with you a lesson learned in childhood. Our family has owned a summer cabin at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon for five generations. The months of July and August for me meant hiking; fishing; and swimming daily at the swimming hole, featuring a big rock from which we dived, and maneuvering through the swift current which roared by it and formed dangerous whirlpools. Most swimmers would plunge into the icy waters and swim with the current, rapidly passing the big rock, and be eventually carried to the slower waters and the welcome bank of river sand. That is, all but one swimmer. His name was “Beef” Peterson. His swimsuit carried the emblem of “Life Saver,” and his physical body reflected great strength. Beef would, like others, swim rapidly down the current through the whirlpools, then suddenly turn and swim back upstream. For a few feet, his mighty strokes carried him forward, but then the swiftness of the current held him steady as he pitted his strength against that of the river. Gradually Beef would tire, drop back, and then swim effortlessly to the bank, exhausted. Swimming against the current became Beef Peterson’s trademark.

My brothers and sisters, I’m certain our duty and responsibility is frequently to swim upstream and against the tide of temptation and sin. As we do so, our spiritual strength will increase, and we shall be equal to our God-given responsibilities.

With some difficulty, my husband and I, carrying our two young children, found an empty table in the college’s large dining room. Pulling out the sandwiches we had made at home, we discussed our bleak financial situation.
We had no money and a week to go until our next paycheck. Neither of us wanted to ask our parents for help. We had credit cards, but if we started using them, how would we stop? We had been paying our tithing faithfully, and we hoped Heavenly Father would bless us.
As we considered our options, I noticed a man smiling at us from several tables away. With our noisy, active children, I was used to people staring at us. I gave his notice no thought until he walked toward us. Placing a folded piece of paper on the table, he patted my husband on the back and said with a smile, “It looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
Then he walked away and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Unfolding the paper, we read, “Good luck! It looks like you’re doing a good job so far.” Tucked into the fold was enough money to get us through the next week and then some.
With tears in my eyes, I felt the Spirit’s peaceful assurance that this was an answer to our prayers and a blessing from paying our tithing. I knew at that moment that Heavenly Father was intimately aware of our little family and that He would not forsake us.
I kept the note and have read it many times over the past few years. I am sure that the generous stranger did not fully comprehend the impact his action would have. But for our family, this experience was a turning point—a turning toward greater obedience, faith, and gratitude.
A spiritual prompting, a generous stranger willing to act, and a helpful note have blessed my family eternally.

Many of us can relate to feelings of inadequacy, or that we of ourselves do not have a meaningful voice due to the consequences of personal choices that have not been in line with the commandments of the Lord. In my teens and early 20’s I found myself lost, inactive in the church, and putting my attention to things of the world that had little to no redeeming value. When I decided to return to full church activity in my late 20’s, I felt that I had strayed so far and lost so much that my offering did not have anything that could make any positive impact on anyone. I knew the Lord loved me, but I fashioned in my mind a love more of pity for a soul who would always be too broken to be of much value, one that needed to simply remain quiet, listen, and obey. But as Brother Brian Schow reminded us in his devotional address last week: “. . . the Savior has an expectation that we will use the gift of the Holy Ghost to do something.” In that season of change, I knew that I wanted to become a better man, and the Spirit whispered to me that if I were to do so, I would not be able to do so quietly.

Joy and Jeff Young learned the importance of having adequate resources when they endured 14 months of unemployment. “Throughout the years of our marriage,” Joy explains, “we had tried to follow the prophets’ counsel to be prepared for the unexpected. We had built a basic food supply. … I was also grateful that I had developed my homemaking skills.”

Joy and Jeff supported each other and relied heavily on the Lord. “I found that it is impossible to stockpile spiritual strength,” Joy says. “Even though I had a strong foundation in the gospel, I had to pray and read the scriptures daily to maintain my faith” (“Surviving Unemployment,” Ensign, February 1991, 42, 44).

You have saved your money for many years and have made many sacrifices to purchase an expensive new car. Finally, the day arrives when you have enough money to buy it.
As you are driving your new car home, you hear a thump-thump-thump. You pull over to the side of the road and discover that you have a flat tire. “I can’t believe this car!” you exclaim as you slam the door. “I spent all that money on it—and for what?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, you pull a can of gasoline from the trunk, douse the car, and ignite it. The new car with the flat tire is obliterated in an inferno.
Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Who would destroy a fine car because of one minor problem?

As a child, I was not naturally athletic. I remember nearly drowning in the shallow end of a pool more than once. At age 10, my closest friends participated in a summer swim team league. I was not up to their level so every morning while they were warming up for team practices, I took beginner swim lessons with a bunch of younger kids to build my confidence and learn how to bob up & down in the water and eventually swim a bit without pinching my nose with one hand while the other arm spun around wildly. The following summer, I determined to join the swim team with my friends. So at age 11, I showed up for the first day of practice, nervous and hoping I remembered how to not drown.

Coach Bobby Fish (no kidding) was a very stern, imposing figure with short dark hair who honestly terrified me. In my mind, the scene that first day resembled the image of frail Prophet Abinadi facing the wicked King Noah. Coach Fish showed no indication of being merciful. I walked onto the pool deck, she sat with heavy arms folded sizing me up from behind darkly shaded glasses, then pointed at the starting block and said one word, "Dive".So I stepped up to the block which seemed to stand 10-feet above the edge of the pool and somehow put my faith in God and did a feeble flying flop into the pool. Luckily I didn’t hit the bottom and I was able to surface and start swimming as best I could to the other end. The pool seemed to stretch on indefinitely and I quickly grew tired. At last, I reached the other end and in so doing unknowingly passed the required ability test to join the team. This leap of faith turned out to be the beginning of a completely life-changing summer which helped me develop a sense of confidence and self-worth I had never before possessed.I grew stronger and healthier than ever before that summer and created a vital pillar of strength for my life through swimming. It all started with a desire to learn, putting my trust in God, and a giant leap of faith.

McFarlane Phiri first learned about the Church in 1978 and spent the next 14 years studying the scriptures and other books that were sent to him by Church headquarters in Utah. During that time, Brother Phiri taught his friends about Christ, the restored gospel, and the Book of Mormon. By the time senior missionaries, Elder Brian and Sister Betty Peedle were assigned to serve in Malawi by Zimbabwe Harare Mission President Vern Marble in July 1992, 31 others were also ready for baptism. An additional 43 people were baptized a few months later.