Gospel Story Finder

I was over in England a while back and a bishop asked me, “What is the Church’s stand on cola drinks?” I said, “Well, I can’t remember the exact wording of the bulletin, but I remember seeing the bulletin when I was a stake president. The Church, of course, advises against them.”

He said, “Well, I have read the Priesthood Bulletin, but that isn’t what it says to me.”

And I said, “Would you get your Priesthood Bulletin? Let’s read it together.” And so we found under the heading “Cola Drinks”: “… the leaders of the Church have advised, and we do now specifically advise, against use of any drink containing harmful habit-forming drugs. …” (The Priesthood Bulletin, Feb. 1972, p. 4.)

He said, “Well, you see, that doesn’t mean cola.”

I said, “Well, I guess you will have to come to your own grips with that, but to me, there is no question.” You see, there can’t be the slightest particle of rebellion, and in him there is. We can find loopholes in a lot of things if we want to bend the rules of the Church.

There are a lot of fun things you could do for Mutual. The youth of the Plymouth First Ward (Plymouth England Stake) used their Mutual night as an opportunity to do missionary work.
Each of the eight young women and seven young men in the ward, which covers about 15 square miles, brought a less-active or nonmember friend to Mutual. At the activity they had a barbecue, played games, and just got to know each other better. The full-time missionaries were invited, too, and they joined in the fun.
“I was so overwhelmed at the success of the activity,” says Ruth Ng, one of the Young Women. “My testimony of missionary work was surely increased.”

One Sunday a couple of years ago, I came to church pushing an especially sad Caroline, thinking that we might just stay for the sacrament. As I walked the foyer and Caroline remained sad, I began to wonder if we would even make it until the sacrament. All my efforts to comfort her seemed fruitless, and Caroline’s crying was certainly disturbing others.
But then the sacrament hymn began and Caroline calmed briefly when I started to sing. She quickly got fussy again, so I put my face close to hers and I sang to her. She quieted and listened. The sacrament hymn that day was “Reverently and Meekly Now,” which was written in the first-person voice, as if the Savior were singing. Admittedly, I was focused on Caroline and not on the song—until we came to the fourth verse, when I found myself singing these words to my daughter:
I have loved thee as thy friend, With a love that cannot end.18
I looked into Caroline’s big blue eyes and felt deeply the tender, personal truth of those words for my daughter. Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world, loves Caroline “with a love that cannot end.” Even there in the foyer, in her less-than-ideal state, Caroline is loved. When she is sad or hurting, when her parents are clueless and incapable of comforting her, there is One who is her Everlasting Friend, who knows how she feels and how to succor her.

One woman affirmed this idea. She wrote:
One evening I was frustrated with my husband and wanted to let him know how I felt. . . I began writing down my feelings in a letter to him in the hope that he would . . . begin working on his shortcomings.
I wrote and wrote and wrote. Putting my thoughts on paper made me feel better, so I closed my epistle with, ‘You really have many fine attributes that I value, but I kept this letter focused on what concerns me tonight.’ At that moment, the thought came to me, Why don’t you write him a letter listing only his good qualities that you love so much?
I found myself thinking, That’s a good idea. So I temporarily set aside the first letter and began writing again. . . . After I wrote many pages, my appreciation for him grew, and I was filled with love. So I threw away my first letter and gave him only the second, positive one.
What a blessing that letter has been for us both. My husband appreciated having his good points recognized, and his interest was kindled in doing even more things better. And I have been motivated to be less critical of him and more mindful of correcting my own shortcomings. I am forever grateful for the inspiration that taught me how to see a loving alternative rather than to vent my frustration in a nonconstructive way.[8]

Years ago I attended a sacrament meeting where a young man was speaking prior to leaving on his mission. He came to the pulpit and said, "Brothers and Sisters, I have written out a talk, but I decided to leave it at my seat so that I could speak by the promptings of the spirit." Then followed a long uncomfortable pause after which he looked at the congregation and said," I think the spirit is prompting me to go back and get my talk."

Yes, it is by grace that we are saved, but only after all we can do. We must work at reaching our righteous goals. As students, we must work hard in our class assignments and preparation. As children of God, we must work hard at keeping the commandments.

She seemed to know instinctively that selfishness never led to happiness. I remember one summer being eager to give a birthday present to a young boy whom I babysat regularly. My mother didn’t give me a lecture on resources. Instead, we walked down to Main Street, where she purchased thirty-five cents’ worth of white broadcloth.
I helped tend my little brother as I watched her cut out a shirt with sleeves, interfacings, and a collar. After she carefully sewed the shirt together, she put on buttons from a worn-out shirt and made carefully hand-stitched buttonholes. The process seemed to take forever, but the new shirt was pressed and wrapped in time for the birthday, I remember the wonderful feeling I had as I presented the gift to the young neighbor. My mother’s gift to me was her time and effort and her support of my own desire to give.

Yes, you may have many humorous experiences on your mission, but those experiences which will be the most joyful and rewarding to you, and which will be with you throughout eternity, will be the times when the Spirit will work through you to touch the lives of others, such as Sister Ciardo from Sardinia, Italy, who joined the Church and came to Scotland on a mission. As Sister Ciardo left for her mission, her mother would hardly speak to her and her father said she would never be welcome back home again. But the faith of this young lady brought forth a miracle.
Approximately a year after Sister Ciardo had been on her mission, she came to see me one day with tears running down her face. She had a letter in hand from her mother. I, too, had tears come to my eyes as I read the letter telling her daughter she had been baptized and that her father was attending church and was going to listen to the discussions.
I think of a Tony Ridden and a Tracy McFall from Scotland who were baptized a couple of years ago, coming from backgrounds that you would never have thought this possible. Yet both stood and spoke just a few months ago at their own missionary farewells with tears in their eyes, expressing love and gratitude for the elders who brought the gospel into their lives.
Just how important is a Sister Ciardo, a Tony Ridden, a Tracy McFall, and many others just like them? The Lord gives us the answer to that question: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;
“For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him. …
“Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:10–11, 14–15.)
O youth of noble birthright, I bear witness to you this night that if you will commit, prepare, and with a willing heart go forth to serve Jesus Christ and preach his gospel, great will be your blessings and reward. Listen to the words of our Savior:
“Ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you.” (D&C 62:3.)
“Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood.” (1 Pet. 2:9.)
Stay on the Lord’s side and you will find eternal joy and fulfillment. I bear my witness to you that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. This is His church. President Ezra Taft Benson is our living prophet, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

During a visit to the afflicted area prior to the distribution of the packets, Elder and Sister Johnston met a little boy named Cosmin. His house had been destroyed and he was living under a tarp.
When the Johnstons returned a while later with food, he and his family were nowhere to be found.
“We desperately wanted to find them,” said Elder Johnston. “We promised them we would return with help. We left the distribution to others and began scouring the faces in the crowd of refugees, hoping to find him and his father and mother.
“Near the end of the day, after most materials were distributed, we found them standing off a distance from everyone else, waiting patiently. They were a contrast to the majority who pushed and shoved their way to the front of the line. We were touched by their humility and gratitude. Little Cosmin soon brought us flowers and said, ‘Thank you.’”

When I was a little girl, my parents took my sister and me to an orchard owned by the Church. We were there to help pick peaches. We climbed up on tall ladders and reached through thick leaves to pick the peaches off the trees.
At first, we were excited. But soon the fuzz on the fruit made our arms all itchy! We told our mom, “We don’t want to do this anymore. We want to stop.”
My mom asked us if we knew where all the peaches went. When we said no, she explained it to us.
“Each of these peaches is taken to a building where volunteers put them in cans. Then those cans are given to people who need food. Each year the Church donates thousands of cans of food.”
All of a sudden, my sister and I stopped worrying about our itchy arms. We were helping people who needed food! After that, we had fun climbing up the ladders and picking the fuzzy orange fruit.

I remember coming to know Mr. Herb Cummings, of Phoenix, Arizona, and former owner and CEO of Sara Lee foods. Mr. Cummings was born in Canada to a Russian immigrant Jewish family.

When asked how he learned to become a great philanthropist, he told us that he first learned and practiced the principle of philanthropy in the home of his grandmother.

Every Thursday, his grandmother would contact all of the married children in their family and invite them to prepare for the Sabbath, by coming to her home on Friday night for Sabbath dinner. Herb said that he never remembered a Friday night, as they began their Sabbath, that his grandmother had not found a homeless immigrant Jewish man or woman on the streets of Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada and brought them home with her.

As she would contact her family for the Sabbath meal, she would ask one family for an extra pair of shoes, a shirt, pants, money, or for knowledge of where there might be a job.

She would feed, clothe, house and then find gainful employment for these immigrants. She sometimes cared for them up to eight weeks, as their self-esteem was built and made strong. Mr. Cummings saw hundreds of these people helped by his grandmother. "I just grew up understanding that I had a responsibility to take of my surplus and help someone else less fortunate." "I have just always practiced philanthropy."

Now Herb Cummings was very wealthy. He did wonderful things with his material wealth in the true spirit of philanthropy. What about the rest of us? Can we be philanthropists? What about his sweet grandmother? Was she a philanthropist - a lover of mankind?

The Prophet Joseph Smith was totally committed to the Lord and was willing to serve him at all times, at all costs, and at all hazards. He was willing to serve the Lord even when it was not convenient. When Joseph was living in the Johnson’s home at Hiram, Ohio, his wife, Emma, gave birth to twins who died the day of their birth. The wife of John Murdock also gave birth to a set of twins on that same day, but Mrs. Murdock died in childbirth. Joseph and Emma asked Brother Murdock if they might adopt his twins, and he readily accepted that offer.

When the twins were 11 months old, they became very ill with measles, causing many sleepless nights in the Smith household. One night the Prophet told his wife to go into the back bedroom and try to get some rest while he sat up in the living room with the sicker of the two children. As the night passed, Joseph lay down upon a trundle bed and dozed off. The next thing he knew, he was being carried bodily through the front door by an angry mob who were shouting among themselves, “Don’t let his feet touch the floor, or he will take us all.” They realized what a tremendously powerful man he was physically as well as spiritually.

They carried him out through the orchard, and as they did so, he saw Sidney Rigdon lying on the ground, presumably dead. The mob had also dragged Brother Rigdon from his house by the heels, bumping his head on the frozen ground until it had knocked him insensible.

After coming to a halt, the mob deliberated as to whether or not they should kill the Prophet but decided against it. Finally one of them said, “Let’s tar up his mouth.” With that they tried to force the tar paddle into his mouth. Next they tried to force a phial of poison between his teeth, but he kept them clenched so tightly that the bottle broke, along with the corner of one of his front teeth. Failing to tar up his mouth or poison him, one of the members of the mob fell on him, and after the others had torn off all Joseph’s clothes except his shirt collar, began scratching him like a mad cat, muttering: “… that’s the way the Holy Ghost falls on folks.” They then poured hot tar on his body, rolled him in a feather tick and left him for dead.

After regaining consciousness the Prophet made his way to the house. When his wife, Emma, saw him coming to the door with his body covered with tar and feathers, she fainted. The rest of the night was spent removing the tar from his body. The tender hands of Dr. Frederick G. Williams, a physician and also a counselor to the Prophet in the First Presidency, performed the heartbreaking task. Sometimes large pieces of skin came off with the tar. The next day was the Sabbath, and the Prophet, in great discomfort, was at the service where he spoke.

It is hard to study the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith without remembering that he learned to serve the Lord fully, at all times, and at all costs.

I had an experience several years ago that taught me the power of asking and its role in bringing comfort.

One day I noticed that one of the students in my Russian class was visibly distraught when she arrived for class. We had a few minutes before class was to start, and she sat down in the back of the classroom, near the door.

As the rest of the class chatted and prepared for class, I thought to myself, "Hmm... Maybe I should go talk to her."

I walked back and, out of earshot of the others, asked her if she was okay. She shook her head and asked if we could step out in the hall. She then confided in me that on her way to my class she had learned—on Facebook, of all places—of some devastating news about her family situation. She didn't know what to do.

I suggested that she skip class—can you believe it!—and take time right then to deal with the situation. She thanked me and left.

I was proud of her for just showing up to class and am sure she would not have learned or retained anything about Russian short-form past passive participles that day.

Looking back, I was glad that I had asked that one simple question. I checked in from time to time with her on how things were going, and my sense was that she was appreciative that someone cared, and cared enough to ask.

When Elder Christopher H. Kim was 14 years old and had a chance to share the gospel with friends, he realized he needed to know the truth of the Book of Mormon so he could speak with conviction.
“As I prayed about the Book of Mormon, I felt a soul-comforting feeling,” he recalls. “And suddenly, there was not any question or any doubt about the Book of Mormon.” For the first time in his life, he added, “I really felt the Spirit, knew the truth about the Book of Mormon, and knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.”

As a bishop of a student ward adjacent to the University of Utah campus about 18 years ago, I tried vainly to hold a young marriage together. The wife had been unfaithful, and as I sought to help and to understand, I learned that as a child this woman had had an adulterous father. Though unjustified, she acted out her feelings about men. What she then did was not love. Several years after my release as bishop, I saw a story in the local paper about her having been picked up for prostitution. I know not where she is today, but I cannot put out of my mind the words of Jacob, who decried unfaithful fathers who had lost the confidence of their children because of their bad examples (see Jacob 2:35).

Long ago there was a rich man named Yaacov who did very well selling his wares in the city. His family lived in a big house, rode in fine carriages, and ate the best foods. They lacked nothing that could make them happy and healthy.
One day Yaacov took his finest carriage and drove out into the country to do some business. He was in a great hurry and rode all day without stopping so that he could reach his destination before nightfall. But when darkness came, Yaacov was lost in a wild, unfamiliar country far from his home. “We must find a place for the night, or we will faint from hunger and exhaustion,” he told his horse. The horse whinnied in agreement. Both kept their eyes open for a likely place to stop, but they saw nothing.
Finally Yaacov spied a light in the distance through the trees. He turned his horse toward it, and soon they arrived at a very humble hut. This is not much, Yaacov thought, but maybe the good people inside will give me shelter. He knocked at the door.
A thin man dressed in tattered clothing opened it. When Yaacov explained his need, the man replied, “We have very little, but what we have is yours.”
The inside of the one-room hut was even shabbier than the outside. There was a small fire in the grate, rushes on the floor for beds, and only one chair, which the man offered to Yaacov.
That night the man, his wife, and their little boy treated Yaacov with all the respect and courtesy due a guest in their home. There was little to eat, but the family shared what they had. Yaacov noticed that the man ate very little, leaving him the best of the food. At bedtime they gave him the warmest place by the fire. Yaacov was touched by their kindness and vowed that he would never forget them.
Before he left the next day, Yaacov took the little boy aside, gave him a piece of paper, and said, “Here is my address in the city. If ever your family is in need, call on me.” Then, getting directions from his host, he hurried off to his business destination.
Ten years passed, and Yaacov had become even richer. His family had finer carriages, more expensive furniture, and even costlier food. He had forgotten all about that night when he was lost in the country.
One night while Yaacov and his family were seated at the dinner table, there came a knock on the door. Yaacov was called into the great hall.
“This young man says that he knows you, sir,” said one of the servants.
Puzzled, Yaacov looked the young stranger up and down. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you. Who are you?”
“Once, a long time ago,” replied the young man, “you came to our home in the country. You were lost and hungry, and you spent the night in my parents’ home.”
Yaacov then realized that the young man before him must have been the little boy in the humble hut in the country where Yaacov had been so graciously received. “What can I do for you?” Yaacov asked kindly.
“My father and mother are both very ill, and I have lost my job while trying to care for them. Now we have no more food, and they need medicine. If they do not get help soon, they will surely die and I will have failed in my duties as a son,” answered the young man, adding, “I will work hard for you at any task if you will only help my parents.”
“I will provide for your family, but I will not ask you to work for me,” Yaacov told the young man. “Your parents need you now.”
That very night Yaacov sent a doctor with the young man to attend to his parents’ needs. The next morning Yaacov sent ten wagonloads of food and provisions to the family. Yaacov’s wife and daughter also went to help care for the sick man and woman. Within a month the poor family was happy and healthy and much better off than they had ever been before. Yaacov then found the young man a good job in his business and paid him well for his work.
When asked why he did so much for a family whom he hardly knew, Yaacov replied, “They took food from their mouths to feed me and treated me kindly when I was in need. I am still in their debt, for what is my sacrifice compared to theirs? A kindness should be stored away in a person’s heart and returned with interest when it is needed.”

I knew we are all supposed to share the gospel, but I had never had any success. Then, during a Spanish course I was taking, I met a young man named Tiago. We became friends and often walked home from school together. One day we passed an LDS chapel that had recently been built.
“I have been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for several years,” I said. I shared with him some of the things that we believe, and I told him how much my family and I have been blessed because of the gospel. I invited him to attend meetings that coming Sunday at 9:00 a.m.
Sunday arrived and I anxiously waited, but he did not come. During the week, I invited him again. This continued every week for two or three months. He always gave me a reason why he hadn’t shown up: “I slept late,” “I was tired,” “There were problems.” But I kept asking him anyway, and he didn’t seem to mind.
One Sunday morning I sat down on one of the benches toward the back of the chapel. There were still a few minutes to go before the meeting began when someone quietly called my name. I looked toward the door, and there was Tiago!
“Didn’t I promise you I would come one day?” he said. He attended sacrament meeting and, to my surprise, stayed for the rest of the meetings and seemed pleased when I introduced him to the missionaries. He began meeting with them regularly. Tiago and I continued to talk as we walked home from school, but our conversations were about the truths he was learning. I was able to answer questions and bear my testimony. Finally, he gained a testimony of his own and joined the Church.
Today I am a full-time missionary in the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. Before I left for the mission field, Tiago also submitted his application to be a full-time missionary, and he is now serving in the Brazil Manaus Mission.
I recently received a letter from him. “Thank you for inviting me again and again to come to church,” he wrote. “I will be eternally grateful.” I am happy not only to share the gospel each day but also to know that Tiago is doing the same.

“One day two missionaries got into my taxi,” says Garry Guanilo of Peru. “They asked me if I knew that families could be eternal. That question really had an impact on me. And they spoke to me about the Prophet Joseph Smith. I went home and told my wife, María, about it. We invited the missionaries to our home. During the first lesson, they sang ‘Families Can Be Together Forever’ ” (Hymns, no. 300).
María adds, “Since our baptism, we are progressing in many ways. It’s like a staircase—we keep climbing higher and higher, and less important things are dropping out of our lives.”
Garry continues, “I want to marry my wife for eternity in the temple and to have our daughters sealed to us. We had no idea this world existed!”—Garry and María Guanilo, Peru

In 1994, while a young married couple in Provo, our first child was born, our daughter Carina. She was 7 pounds, 11 ounces, and 19 ½ inches long. My wife and I watched Carina grow those first few months, amazed as new parents often are with every new milestone and change. Carina was constantly in the 95th percentile for height and weight was developing normally and was a happy baby.

At her four-month checkup, I also participated in a first: I went alone with her to her pediatrician. I don’t remember why my wife couldn’t be with us that day, but I was finally old enough and mature enough to be trusted to take her on my own. We went to the doctor and did all the normal stuff at check-in: take temperature, measure height, and weight. Then the doctor came, looked at her chart, gave a little “Hmm” sound, and asked about her eating habits. I said she was nursing fine, supplemented with a bottle. I was told that while her height remained in the 95th percentile, her weight had dropped to below the 25th percentile. He then began listening to her heart. After a moment, he looked up and told me to take her directly to the hospital, not to our local hospital but straight up to Primary Children’s in Salt Lake.

The normal heart rate for a four-month-old baby is 80-160 beats per minute. Carina’s was over 250 beats per minute. I took my daughter, picked up my wife, and headed out. We stopped on the way at the home of my former Branch President, Rob Vogelsburg, in American Fork, to give Carina a blessing. Then we left to complete the drive up to Primary Children’s Hospital.

That drive was probably the hardest drive of my life. I don’t remember much of the drive itself, but I remember the feelings I had inside. Anxiety. Confusion. Uncertainty. We had no idea what was happening, and that was the worst part of it.

My wife, daughter, and I arrived at the hospital, and by then the episode had passed. We met with some specialists, and after testing, were told Carina suffered from Supraventricular Tachycardia (SVT). We finally knew, but the journey was not over. SVT is not normally a life-threatening diagnosis, but for a four-month-old, it necessitated close monitoring. Older children and adults can communicate when their heart is racing. Infants, not so much. So, Carina spent much of her infancy attached to a heart monitor. We always had stethoscopes on hand. She took medication to help control her condition. The medication had to be closely monitored since too much would not just slow but stop her heart. No pressure. We learned how to intervene when she was going through an episode, shocking her system back to normal. Our doctor recommended holding a bag of frozen peas over her face which worked great, though it was interesting to explain to others if you were out in public. We learned and adapted, continued moving from not knowing to knowing, and eventually our daughter grew out of it and now has two daughters of her own.

I remember well an experience I had as a passenger in a small two-propeller airplane. One of its engines suddenly burst open and caught on fire. The propeller of the flaming engine wasn’t moving anymore. As we dropped in a steep spiral dive toward the earth, I expected to die. Some of the passengers screamed in hysterical panic.
Miraculously the steep dive put out the flames. Then, by starting up the other engine, the pilot was able to get the plane under control and bring us down safely.
Throughout that ordeal, though I “knew” death was coming, I was not afraid to die. I remember a sense of returning home to meet ancestors for whom I had done temple work. I remember my deep sense of gratitude that my sweetheart and I had been sealed eternally to each other and to our children, born and raised in the covenant.
The Lord has said, “Fear not even unto death; for in this world your joy is not full, but in me your joy is full” (D&C 101:36).
I realized that day that my marriage in the temple was my most important accomplishment. Honors bestowed upon me by men could not approach the inner peace provided by sealings performed in the house of the Lord.

In preparation for my first trip to the temple, my mother and experienced Relief Society sisters helped me select the items I would need, including beautiful ceremonial clothing. But the most important preparation came even before knowing what to wear. After interviewing me to determine if I was worthy, my bishop explained the covenants I would make. His careful explanation gave me the chance to think about and be prepared to make those covenants.

When the day came, I participated with a feeling of gratitude and peace. Even though I did not understand the full significance of the covenants I made, I did know that I was bound to God through those covenants and was promised blessings I could scarcely comprehend if I kept them. Since that first experience, I have been continually assured that keeping the covenants we make with God allows us to draw upon the Savior’s power, which strengthens us in our inevitable trials, provides protection from the adversary’s influence, and prepares us for eternal glory.