Gospel Story Finder

“We saw that designer clothes, furniture, and even nice houses can be ruined. Material things don’t matter much,” says Samantha Adams, 17. Following the hurricane, she spent a lot of time working in the bishops’ storehouse. “When I saw people come in who had lost practically everything, it didn’t seem important to worry about how my hair looked or if I had makeup on. I was just glad to help them.”

Samantha, along with Ashley Clarke, and her brother Thomas, 17, worked day after day in the storehouse. “They knew the landmarks and locations, and they understood computers,” explains Mike Dohm, field operations coordinator for the command center that was set up there. “We gave them responsibility for mapping out locations so work crews could get where they needed to go. They saw a need, recognized they could do it, and showed up every day to get it done. There’s just no way we could have done as much as we did without them.”

As one other piece of evidence to show that anything is possible, think back to 1961 when John Fitzerald Kennedy was president. At the time, the U.S. and Russia had started exploring space.

On May 25, 1961, President Kennedy stood before a joint session of Congress to declare it “time for a great new American enterprise—time for this nation to take a clearly leading role in space achievement, which in many ways may hold the key to our future on earth.” First,” he said, “I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth.” Kennedy’s goal was realized on July 20, 1969 (8 years later). Apollo 11, of course, was the mission that put men on the moon, with its astronauts Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins. The 238,000-mile trip to the moon took four days. Apollo 11 fell into orbit 60 miles above the moon's surface, and on July 20 at 1:45 p.m. EDT, the Eagle with Armstrong and Aldrin inside separated from Columbia. The Eagle crew then put themselves into a 60-by-9-mile orbit. Neil Armstrong’s quote is now famous: "That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind." President Kennedy knew that with a firm goal and hard work, anything was possible.

In a small Argentine town, a man invited two young missionaries into his home—but only to let them know how he felt about their church. He was angry, ill-informed, and emotionally abusive. With a face red with rage, he shook his fists at the two young men.
One elder, in a soft voice, asked if he could share a personal experience. The man, calmed somewhat by the question, reluctantly agreed.
The missionary began: “As I boarded the plane for my mission to Argentina, I was filled with deep sadness. The fact that I would not see my family for two years overwhelmed me, and I began to sob. I cried out in my thoughts, Heavenly Father, are You there? Am I doing the right thing? I feel so alone. Suddenly, comfort, peace, and love filled my soul. I knew all would be well. I knew that God knew me and that what I was doing was right. I knew He would not leave me alone. The Spirit bore witness to my soul of these truths. I will never be the same again.”
The elder stopped, and the Spirit filled the room. Looking into the eyes of the man, the missionary said, “The Spirit that spoke peace to my soul is the same Spirit that will testify to you that the message we have brought you is true.” He continued, “Your part in this process is to humble yourself, desire to know the truth, seek understanding, and ask God for confirmation.”
The man tried to speak, but he was overcome by emotion. Confused, he searched for a logical explanation of what had just happened. Failing, he simply ushered the missionaries to the door. This man may never accept the gospel, but at least once in his life he was touched by the Spirit and taught by true servants of the Lord.

I go to chess club after school. One day when chess club was over, I went to a side door to meet my mom. I expected her to be waiting outside, but she wasn’t there. I went to another door in the back, but she wasn’t there either. I began to feel lost and scared. I decided to say a prayer asking for help to find my mom. About 10 seconds later my chess teacher found me and told me that my mom was waiting at the front door. I was glad my prayer had been answered.

On Sundays my mom usually woke me up so I could get ready for church and get there before the meetings began. But one Sunday my mom didn’t wake me up. I woke up by myself and noticed that I didn’t hear the usual noise of my family getting ready for church. I nervously looked at the clock and realized I was half an hour late for church. I had missed the sacrament. I probably would miss Sunday School too.
I felt confused and abandoned. Why didn’t my mom wake me up this morning? She always woke me up. But then it hit me: It wasn’t my mom’s responsibility to wake me up so I could get to church on time—it was mine. I had made my own covenants with Heavenly Father, and it was my responsibility to keep them.
Later that day my mom commented on not waking me up for church. She said that she wouldn’t wake me up again. She told me that I should put in my own effort and gain my own testimony.
During that week, I found myself thinking about how I couldn’t live on my parents’ testimonies forever and how I should try harder to strengthen my own testimony. Since then, I have worked hard to wake up early every Sunday so that I can make it to church on time and take the sacrament. I am learning to be spiritually self-sufficient.
Lia A., Ceará, Brazil

How blessed we are to be led by a living prophet! Growing up during the Great Depression, President Thomas S. Monson learned how to serve others. Often his mother asked him to deliver food to needy neighbors, and she would give homeless men odd jobs in exchange for home-cooked meals. Later as a young bishop, he was taught by President J. Reuben Clark, “Be kind to the widow and look after the poor” (in Thomas S. Monson, “A Provident Plan—A Precious Promise,” Ensign, May 1986, 62). President Monson looked after 84 widows and cared for them until they passed away. Through the years, his service to members and neighbors throughout the world has become the hallmark of his ministry. We are grateful to have his example. Thank you, President Monson.

As early Saints reached Utah, President Brigham Young issued calls to some of them to serve missions to many nations of the world, to others to colonize areas outside the Salt Lake Valley. George Careless was prepared to accept any call he received.
“Brother George,” President Young said, “I have a mission for you. … I want you to take the Tabernacle Choir … and lay a foundation for good music in Utah.” Brother Careless accepted the call.
Born in London on September 24, 1839, George displayed musical talent early in life. His father, a woodcarver, berated his son for “wasting time” with music and told him to learn a trade. George went to work in a shoemaking company, but his heart wasn’t in it. The plant foreman, a music lover who collected violins, loaned him one of them, and George soon learned to play it.
When he was ten years old, he was offered a place in a London choir school, where boys earned their academic and musical education by singing in a church or cathedral. It was a wonderful opportunity, but George turned it down. He had recently joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was eager to participate fully in it.
George’s father never accepted his devotion to music and told him to either give it up or leave the family. So when he was thirteen, George left home.
Later, the shoe factory foreman loaned George the money to attend the Royal Academy of Music. After graduating in three years rather than the usual four, he was hired as a member of an orchestra that gave concerts in the Crystal Palace, England’s showplace for the arts. With his first earnings, he repaid the foreman.
At the same time, George worked to improve the musical activities of the Church in England. He directed a London Conference choir, earning it such a high reputation that it was invited to perform at several of London’s leading concert halls.
His career was progressing so well that Elder William C. Staines encouraged him to move to Utah before he became so famous that it would be almost impossible to leave those who went to hear him. Six weeks later, George sailed for America. On his ship, the Hudson, he led a choir composed of Saints who were immigrating to Utah. He arrived in New York City on July 19, 1864. From there he suffered illness and hunger much of the rest of the way.
Arriving in the Salt Lake Valley, George was given the depressing news that the few professional musicians already there were unable to make a living with their music. Even so, he was determined to teach music even if he starved. By the end of the next month, he had twenty-four paying pupils. The going rate for a series of lessons in the Salt Lake Valley was a hundred pounds of flour.
When President Young called him to his musical mission, George replied, “I will do the best I can with the material I can get.”
The prophet responded, “You will have to make that.”
Organizing a choir in the rough conditions of frontier living took determination and grit as well as talent. At his first rehearsal of the choir, only forty members were present. The Tabernacle, still under construction, had no heating or lighting. Choir members held a candle in one hand, their music in the other.
On October 8, 1873, the Salt Lake Tabernacle Choir joined with choirs from fourteen surrounding communities to perform at General Conference. Some of the choirs had to travel several days to reach Salt Lake City.
When Brigham Young died in 1877, George assembled a 220-member choir to perform a hymn he composed for the funeral.
After serving eleven years as director of the Tabernacle Choir, George resigned his post in 1880. His mission was to continue, though, when President John Taylor asked him to head a committee to write music for all the hymns to be included in The Latter-day Saints’ Psalmody, published in 1889. The Psalmody contained 330 hymns, three-fourths of them set to music by Mormon composers. One of Brother Careless’s compositions is the well-known sacrament hymn “He Died! The Great Redeemer Died.”
George Careless fulfilled his mission to lay a foundation for good music, not just in Utah but in the whole Church.

Yu stepped out of cram school onto the busy sidewalk. His head was full of math facts from his after-school class. People hurried by with umbrellas. Fat raindrops were falling fast, and the street was soaked.
Yu’s friend Lin stepped out beside him. “You should call your dad to pick you up,” Lin said. “Mr. Zhang says it’s flooding in some parts of the city.”
“I can get home on my own.”
“But look at all the water!” Lin said, pointing to the water flowing swiftly in the gutter.
For a moment, Yu had a funny feeling. Was Lin right? Maybe he should call Dad to drive him home before the streets flooded. But he and Dad had an argument last night, and Yu was still angry. He didn’t want to ask Dad for help.
Yu unchained his bike and said goodbye to Lin. If I pedal hard, he thought, I can make it home before the streets flood.
He pedaled hard, but soon his hands were cold, his clothes were soaked, and he was exhausted. Once again, the thought came to call Dad. Was the feeling from the Holy Ghost? The missionaries who baptized him had said that the Holy Ghost could be his guide. Yu glanced at the sky. It was so grey that he couldn’t see the tops of the buildings. But he was still mad at Dad.
Yu ignored the feeling and kept pedaling. The water got so high that shop owners closed their stores. People moved belongings to higher floors. Yu saw a mother pulling her two children through the flood in a little plastic boat.
With the water now past his ankles, Yu could no longer pedal his bike. He got off and pushed. It was probably too late to call Dad now, and the rain was still coming down. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed above him. Yu felt afraid. And he was so tired! He looked ahead. Home was still far away. He shouldn’t have ignored the Holy Ghost just because of a silly argument.
Yu stopped to say a short prayer. He couldn’t hear his voice above the rain and thunder, but he knew that Heavenly Father could hear him.
“Heavenly Father,” Yu prayed, “please help me get home safely.” When he finished, he felt strong enough to keep going.
At last, Yu could see his house on the hill. Cold, tired, and somehow missing a shoe, Yu trudged up the hill. He saw Dad waiting for him outside. Dad rushed down the hill to meet him, splashing water as he ran.
When Dad reached him, he put his arms around Yu. “I was so worried!” Dad said. “You should have called me!”
“I thought we were mad at each other,” Yu said.
“I am never too mad to help you,” Dad said. Then he took Yu’s bike and pushed it the rest of the way up the hill.
Even with thunder echoing between the tall buildings and heavy rain pelting down, a warm feeling filled Yu’s heart. He felt peace and safety as he followed Dad home.

I recently spoke to a professor of evolutionary biology from a very elite university who identifies as an atheist. She has spent her life studying the male and female body and the role of hormones in our unique development. She asked me what my experience is like teaching about gender at BYU. I looked at her and simply said, “We believe that we are the literal children of a divine mother and a father, born in their image.” As I said these words, her eyes filled with tears. She looked at me and said, “I do not know why I am crying. That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.”

I have a pet goat named Cashmere. I feel like I’m her mom. I give her food and water. I brush her hair. I put her in the barn at night to protect her. Sometimes she tries to get out. Cashmere doesn’t understand that staying in the cage protects her from getting lost, from animals, and from other dangers.
Sometimes we are like my pet goat. We have lots of shepherds in our lives. Some of them are our parents, our teachers, and our bishops. Our shepherds help us do what’s right and stay away from danger—if we listen and follow them. Jesus Christ is the best shepherd. I want to be one of the sheep in Jesus’s flock.Quincey B., age 10, Texas

We had completed the assignment given us by President David O. McKay to check on a site claimed to be that of the ancient city of Zarahemla.
We had located the suggested site by following the description given in a document that President McKay sent with us. All four of us agreed that this particular site was altogether too small to support a city as large as Zarahemla. Furthermore, Zarahemla had fields where crops were grown, as well as pasture lands on either side of the city for the Nephite’s flocks. According to the description given in the Book of Mormon, Zarahemla seemed to have been the largest Nephite city in ancient America.
After our return to the hotel, I became quite ill during the night. The next morning my traveling companions came to my bedroom to see why I had not come to breakfast. I told them I was too ill to get out of bed. They said that they would eat breakfast and then go down to the airstrip and look at the plane to see that everything was all right.
They soon returned and informed me that clouds had settled down on the airstrip and on Tuxtla so heavily that we would not be able to get out. We were fogged in, and they had been informed that the airstrip would probably be fogged in for a considerable time because the rainy season was beginning. They asked me what should be done.
After thinking for a few moments I was impressed by the Holy Spirit to say, “Give me a blessing and we will fly out today.” At first they replied, “President Hunter, you are too ill to fly.” But I insisted on being blessed. President Strong anointed and his son Bert sealed the anointing and gave me a blessing. I immediately got up out of bed, went in and ate breakfast, and felt completely healed.
We took our luggage and went down to the airstrip. Shortly after, the clouds lifted sufficiently for us to fly out. We heard later from the archaeological workman that several days passed before the fog and clouds lifted again. Therefore, that particular day was our time to fly out of Tuxtla.
On the way home President Strong said, “President Hunter, write an article for the Church magazines on this marvelous experience we have had. You were directed by the Holy Spirit as strongly as Wilford Woodruff was when he was told to get out of bed and move the wagon in the night. He followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit and moved the wagon just before a strong turbulence came along and pulled up the tree exactly where his wagon had been standing. He and his companion would have been killed if he hadn’t followed the promptings of the Holy Spirit. We have had a similar experience. By following the promptings of the Holy Spirit, our lives were saved.”
Youth of the Church, if you will try to keep all of God’s commandments, then through the promptings of the Holy Spirit you will be guided at critical times in your lives just as we were. Your lives may also be saved by the guidance of the Holy Spirit and by the power of the Lord.

In a recent ward conference, our stake president advised us to choose one area of doctrine that we wanted to gain a testimony of and to fast and pray about it. I chose to pray for a testimony of Joseph Smith as a true prophet of God.
I kept praying and waiting for an answer, but nothing came. I grew impatient. I was sincere in my desire, so why wouldn’t an answer come?
After several weeks, my seminary teacher approached me with an assignment. All the institute and seminary classes in our area were to give monthly lessons on Joseph Smith. My seminary teacher asked me to be the one to give a different lesson each month on “A Day in the Life of Joseph Smith.”
I didn’t really want this extra responsibility, but I accepted the assignment. As I began to read the material on the Prophet Joseph Smith, I realized that this assignment was the answer to my prayers. This opportunity helped me to really learn who the Prophet was and what he had done for the Church.
Also, the personal testimonies I read from people who had known Joseph Smith strengthened my own testimony of his divine calling. Because of this experience, I am so thankful for the Prophet Joseph Smith, and I am gaining a stronger testimony every day.

I once had an experience that taught me a great lesson about the way a highly developed tolerance for “being realistic” can inhibit the workings of the Spirit in our lives. When I had been on my mission in Germany about a year, I was assigned to work with a brand new missionary named Elder Keeler, who had just arrived fresh from converting—or so he thought—all the stewardesses on the plane from New York to Frankfurt. Within a few days of his arrival, I was called to a meeting in another city and had to leave him to work in our city with another inexperienced missionary whose companion went with me. I returned late that night.

The next morning I asked him how his day had gone. He broke into a big smile and said that he had found a family who would surely join the Church. In our mission, it was rare to see anybody join the Church, let alone a whole family. I asked for more details, but he had forgotten to write down either the name or the address. All he could remember was that the family lived on the top floor of a big apartment house. “Oh, that’s great,” I thought to myself as I contemplated all those flights of stairs. He also explained that he knew so little German that he had exchanged but a few words with the woman who answered the door. But he did think she wanted us to come back—and he wanted to go find her and have me talk to her that very minute. I explained to him that the people who do not slam the door in missionaries’ faces are not all planning to join the Church. But off we went to find her, mostly to humor him. He could not remember the right street either, so we picked a likely spot in our tracting area and began climbing up and down those endless polished staircases.

After a frustrating hour, I decided that I really needed to level with him. “Based on my many months of experience,” I said, “it is simply not worth our time to try any longer to find that woman. I have developed a tolerance for the realities of missionary work, and I simply know more about all this than you do.”

His eyes filled with tears and his lower lip began to tremble. (That elder was no dummy—he recently graduated from Boalt Law School at Berkeley.) I remember it so well—he said to me through those tear-filled eyes, “Elder Hafen, I came on my mission to find the honest in heart. The Spirit told me that that woman is going to join the Church, and you can’t stop me from finding her.”

I decided that I had to teach him a lesson. So I raced him up one staircase after another until he was ready to drop, and so was I. “Elder Keeler,” I asked, “had enough?”

“No,” he said. “We’ve got to find her.”

I began to smolder. I decided to work him until he pled with me to stop—then maybe he would get the message.

Then, at the top of a long flight of stairs, we found the apartment. She came to the door. He thrashed my ribs with his elbow and whispered loudly, “That’s her, elder. That’s the one. Talk to her!”

Not long ago, brothers and sisters, up on Maple Lane a few blocks from here, that woman’s husband sat in our living room. He was here for general conference because he is the bishop of the Mannheim Ward. His two boys are preparing for missions; his wife and daughters are pillars of the Church. That is a lesson I can never forget about the limitations of the skepticism and the tolerance for ambiguity that come with learning and experience. I hope that I will never be so aware of “reality” that I am unresponsive to the whisperings of heaven.

I also know a woman in Cape Coast, Ghana, who somehow tuned into general conference. She had never heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she became glued to what she saw and heard from prophets, seers, and revelators. Afterward, she looked for the Church. She found a chapel and met the missionaries. Eventually she was baptized. Recently, she sent me pictures of herself at the temple to receive her endowment.

Examples of the enabling power are not found only in the scriptures. Daniel W. Jones was born in 1830 in Missouri, and he joined the Church in California in 1851. In 1856 he participated in the rescue of handcart companies that were stranded in Wyoming by severe storms. After the rescue party found the suffering saints, provided what immediate comfort they could, and made arrangements for the sick and the feeble to be transported to Salt Lake City, Daniel and several other young men volunteered to remain with and safeguard the company's possessions. The food and supplies left with Daniel and his colleagues were, to say the least, meager and were rapidly expended. I will now quote from Daniel Jones' personal journal and his description of the events that followed.

Game soon became so scarce that we could kill nothing. We ate all the poor meat; one would get hungry eating it. Finally that was all gone, nothing now but hides were left. We made a trial of them. A lot was cooked and eaten without any seasoning and it made the whole company sick. Many were so turned against the stuff that it made them sick even to think of it.

. . . Things looked dark, for nothing remained but the poor raw hides taken from starved cattle. We asked the Lord to direct us what to do. The brethren did not murmur, but felt to trust in God. We had cooked the hide, after soaking and scraping the hair off until it was soft and then ate it, glue and all. This made it rather inclined to stay with us longer than we desired. Finally I was impressed how to fix the stuff and gave the company advice, telling them how to cook it; for them to scorch and scrape the hair off; this had a tendency to kill and purify the bad taste that scalding gave it. After scraping, boil one hour in plenty of water, throwing the water away which had extracted all the glue, then wash and scrape the hide thoroughly, washing in cold water, then boil to a jelly and let it get cold, and then eat with a little sugar sprinkled on it. This was considerable trouble, but we had little else to do and it was better than starving.[8]

All that I have read thus far is a preparation for the next line from Daniel W. Jones' journal. It illustrates how those pioneer saints may have known something about the enabling power of the atonement that we, in our prosperity and ease, are not as quick to understand:

We asked the Lord to bless our stomachs and adapt them to this food (Ibid., emphasis added).

My dear brothers and sisters, I know what I would have prayed for in those circumstances. I would have prayed for something else to eat. "Heavenly Father, please send me a quail or a buffalo." It never would have occurred to me to pray that my stomach would be strengthened and adapted to what we already had. What did Daniel W. Jones know? He knew about the enabling power of the atonement of Jesus Christ. He did not pray that his circumstances would be changed. He prayed that he would be strengthened to deal with his circumstances. Just as Nephi, Amulek, and Alma and his people were strengthened, Daniel W. Jones had the spiritual insight to know what to ask for in that prayer.

We hadn't the faith to ask him to bless the raw-hide, for it was "hard stock." On eating now all seemed to relish the feast. We were three days without eating before this second attempt was made. We enjoyed this sumptuous fare for six weeks.[9]

Thus, for Daniel and his associates, this delicious doctrine provided both physical and spiritual nourishment.

A Father’s Blessing
During the Vietnam War, we held a series of special meetings for members of the Church called into military service. After such a meeting in Chicago, I was standing next to President Harold B. Lee when a fine young Latter-day Saint told President Lee that he was on leave to visit his home and then had orders to Vietnam. He asked President Lee to give him a blessing.
Much to my surprise, President Lee said, “Your father should give you the blessing.”
Very disappointed, the boy said, “My father wouldn’t know how to give a blessing.”
President Lee answered, “Go home, my boy, and tell your father that you are going away to war and want to receive a father’s blessing from him. If he does not know how, tell him that you will sit on a chair. He can stand behind you and put his hands on your head and say whatever comes.”
This young soldier went away sorrowing.
About two years later I met him again. I do not recall where. He reminded me of that experience and said, “I did as I was told to do. I explained to my father that I would sit on the chair and that he should put his hands on my head. The power of the priesthood filled both of us. That was a strength and protection in those perilous months of battle.”
President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

One night after I went to bed, my baby brother was having trouble breathing. He had to go to the hospital. I got really nervous and decided to say a prayer. My younger sister and I prayed that Heavenly Father would help my brother breathe better, and that he would come home safely from the hospital. Our prayer was answered in the way we hoped. I know that Heavenly Father loves us.Sara Bailey, age 8Columbia, Maryland

While in New York City, the choir performed a musical fireside in the newly dedicated Latter-day Saint meetinghouse in Harlem.
“Performing at Carnegie is such an accomplishment and a great feather to put in the hat of our music department,” said Justin Smith, the coordinator for the university’s performance tours. “But when we did the Harlem fireside with the newly formed BYU–Hawaii Alumni Chapter of New York, that became my tour highlight.”
Brother Smith continued: “Before the tour, the fireside seemed like just another ‘appointment’ on the itinerary—it kind of flew under the radar. That’s probably why it was so incredible, because it was an unexpected moment on the tour that really struck a chord. Carnegie was commendable. Harlem was the highlight.”

As a young boy I was out on a farm away from our home waiting for my father to finish his day’s work. I was playing about, manufacturing things to while away the time, when I saw over the fence in the neighbor’s yard some broken-down buildings with the sheds caving in and with rotting timbers. I imagined as a young boy that that might be a castle I should explore, so I went over to the fence and started to climb through.
Then I heard a voice as distinctly as you are hearing mine: “Harold, don’t go over there.” I looked in every direction to see where the speaker was. I wondered if it was my father, but he couldn’t see me; he was way up at the other end of the field. There was no one in sight. I realized that someone was warning me of an unseen danger—whether there was a nest of rattlesnakes, or whether the rotting timbers would fall on me and crush me, I don’t know. But from that time on, I accepted without question the fact that there are processes not known to man by which we can hear voices from the unseen world, by which we can have brought to us visions of eternity.

A man lying on a mattress in the aisle. The rest of the story: When I moved into a new ward, I was surprised to see a brother on a moveable hospital bed in the chapel. This man had many disabilities and was only able to attend church in this way. I quickly realized this was typical for this ward, and I adapted quickly. His being there was not irreverent but, in fact, quite the opposite. After all, didn’t the Savior heal a man who had been lowered down on his bed by his friends into a crowded house? (see Luke 5:18–20).