Gospel Story Finder

We had a tough time getting a good photo of Peter Johnson on his bicycle for the cover. It was winter in Utah, and Peter lives in Park City, a ski town that is very snowy in the winter months. The photographer had to wait until there were a couple of warm days so that the snow melted off the pavement. Then he took the photo at an angle so that the snow would not be too obvious in the background. The designer had to fade out the background so it wouldn’t be so noticeable.

“There’s dry wood here,” Henry said. “Let’s build a fire to frighten the wolves away.”
Henry and Wilford quickly built a roaring bonfire, and the wolves retreated.
The missionaries had walked nearly 60 miles that day, so they lay down by the fire and tried to sleep. The night grew quiet. It began to rain. A yip, yip, yip sounded through the trees.
“That’s a dog!” Wilford said.
“It’s a wolf,” Henry said. “Go back to sleep.”
The night grew quiet again. Then a bell tinkled.
“That’s a cowbell!” Wilford said.
“Let’s investigate,” Henry said.
Each man lit the end of a thick stick in the fire to light his way and scare off wolves. Soon they found a small cabin with a tattered blanket for a door. The missionaries looked inside. A woman, some children, and several puppies slept on a bed in the corner. A man slept on the floor with his bare feet by the fire.
“Hello,” Wilford whispered, but the man snored on.
Wilford stepped inside and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. Suddenly the man jumped up and ran around and around the room.
“Calm down!” Henry said. “We are friends.”
The man sat on the floor, panting. “I shot a panther yesterday, and I thought you were its mate come to kill me,” he explained.
“No,” Wilford said. “We are missionaries who need a place to sleep and a bit of breakfast.”
“You can sleep on the floor, but unless I shoot something, none of us will have a bite to eat,” the man said.
“We’re grateful for the roof and the fire,” Wilford and Henry said as they lay down with their tired feet toward the warm coals.

Matilda the Jungle Tracker carefully smeared mud over every inch of her face. Then she clung by her fingertips to the grass at the top of the bank by the creek. Of course, if I were a real jungle tracker, she admitted, there would be a hundred-foot drop here and alligators would be snapping at my heels. But then, she thought, scrabbling up onto the creek bank, in the jungle I would have a vine to swing on.
Matilda surveyed the area. The boys were just disappearing into the woods, and they hadn’t seen her.
“I think I’ll be Matilda the Spy,” she muttered, and she flitted from tree to tree, keeping the boys just within sight.
Suddenly the boys stopped, then turned around and listened. Matilda fell flat on her stomach and peered at them through the tall grass, while they scanned the terrain. A bug crawled over Matilda’s wrist, but she lay perfectly still and thought about something else so that her whereabouts wouldn’t be detected by the boys. When she looked up, the boys had disappeared again.
Matilda sprang softly to her feet like a panther. Her trained mind was alert and ready, and her reflexes were still sharp from her experiences as Matilda the Intrepid Explorer. As she darted across the clearing, she heard the boys shouting.
“Aha!” she whispered, shutting her eyes halfway as she did when she was Matilda the Super Sleuth. “They’re heading for the pond.”
Matilda knew a shortcut. When she had been Matilda the Mapmaker, she had mapped this entire section of country. She easily reached the pond before the boys did, then watched them through the cattails growing there. Just as I thought. They’re building a dam.
Matilda slipped behind a tree. She quietly aimed her camera at the boys and took a picture. She had bought the camera when she was Matilda the Newspaperwoman on her school newspaper.
Of course, she thought, if I were a real secret agent, I could blow up the dam. But they may be building it for the government as a special assignment. I’ll have to observe.
Matilda got down on her stomach again on the steamy jungle floor. Raucous cries of exotic jungle crows echoed in her ears. She narrowed her eyes to tiny slits—the boys were coming.
The boys sloshed into the water halfway up to their knees and started piling more mud onto the dam. They stuck a piece of cardboard into the mud for reinforcement, then built up both sides of it with more mud.
Matilda inched up onto her elbows and snapped another photo. Then she wriggled back until she was out of the boys’ sight and hearing. She hacked her way home through the jungle.
“Matilda!” her mother scolded. “What have you been doing? We’re going out to dinner, and you’re covered with mud. Get washed up now and put on a dress. Hurry up!”
Matilda didn’t argue because now she was Matilda the Diplomat. Besides, she liked bathing. It reminded her of when she had been Matilda the Long-distance Swimmer. She quickly bathed and put on a dress and combed her hair. Her hair looked quite nice because she had once been Matilda the Famous Hairdresser.
“That’s better,” her mother said. “You look nice and pretty, like a little lady. Come along now.”
Outside, the boys were passing by and they snickered at Matilda. She stared at them with her stern Matilda the Judge look. Then Matilda the Civil Engineer smiled at them and said, “You’re building your dam all wrong.”
They goggled at her unbelievingly.
“I have a piece of outdoor plywood,” she said, remembering the leftovers from when she was Matilda the Carpenter. “It’s much stronger than cardboard. I’ll give it to you.”
“But how … ?”
“Who told you … ?”
“Uh, thanks for the wood.”
But Matilda wasn’t listening. Her eyes were inscrutable, and her fingertips were pressed together. She was Matilda the Scientist, thinking about her next invention. It would be a quadruple-stage rocket that could orbit the earth, then reenter and leave the earth’s atmosphere at will at a billion miles an hour.

We of the Valley View Sixth Ward Aaronic Priesthood MIA would like to thank you for giving us a great idea for a service project. We built a dollhouse from the plans you published in the December 1972 New Era and donated it to the Festival of Trees, which is a charitable benefit. The house was sold for $500, and the money went to the Primary Children’s Hospital. We are enclosing a picture of the finished product. Thanks again.
Myrna Ure, Terrie Anderson, Helen Biesinger, Tina Waldram, Marianne Gronning, Ellen Cannon, Jan Currey, Kathy Clark, Helen Pergler, Lloyd BerentzenSalt Lake City, Utah

Covey: I was in one Afrikaans area for a long time, an area I had heard was “tracted out.” I was with a South African companion when we knocked on the door of this lady whose husband had died just a few days before. She was very religious; in fact she was baking a cake for a bazaar in her church. After one month she and her daughter were baptized, and a few months later she was called to be the Relief Society president. She helped bring many people into the Church. All in an area that was supposedly “tracted out.”

For the next several years, I enjoyed all the blessings Latter-day Saint youth have. I attended seminary and Young Men activities, blessed and passed the sacrament, and eventually received the Melchizedek Priesthood. Unfortunately, my mother opposed my Church activity, protesting that I spent too much time at church. When I turned 19 and began to fill out my mission papers, my mother asked me to stop. I decided to respect her wishes and to serve the Lord in whatever other ways I could.
For the next four years, I served as stake clerk, giving my might, mind, and strength to my duties. And I often worked with the full-time missionaries. I dreamed of someday becoming a full-time missionary.
In time, I was called to teach seminary. This opportunity, along with my stake calling, kept me busy enough to feel that at least I was serving the Lord—even though I was not on a mission.
Then one day my sister came to visit with her two beautiful little daughters. It was one month before my 24th birthday. Time was running out, and I knew I needed to decide what I was going to do with my life. That day one of my nieces fell asleep in my arms. As I watched her sleep I realized that someday I would have children and they would ask me, “Daddy, why didn’t you go on a mission?” At that moment I made my decision.
My decision was not easy for my mother to accept. She and my father were separated, and I was the only child at home with her. Still, I knew that what I was doing was right, so I filled out my papers and sent them in. When my call to serve in the Honduras Comayaguela Mission came, my mother was so upset she became ill. But in time, she began to accept my decision, and she even helped me prepare to leave.
On the day I left for the Missionary Training Center, I gave my mother a priesthood blessing. And as I served I began to understand the Lord’s promise: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say” (D&C 82:10). How great was my joy when the calling I had so long dreamed of holding was finally mine—that of full-time representative of the Lord and His Church. How great was my joy when one year into my mission I received word that my mother had accepted the truth and had been baptized. How grateful I am that I took a leap of faith.

As a college student, I spent some time working in the Mutual program at the state training school for the mentally retarded in American Fork, Utah. I quickly learned to accept and love those people. They were remarkable people and their spirituality was stronger than their mental and physical weaknesses.
Except for Ethel—the victim of severe cerebral palsy. I found it very difficult to work with her, or around her. My pity—and my revulsion—were simply too great. She had to be strapped, hands and feet, to a metal frame to keep her from injuring herself. People told me she had a good mind, but it had taken the state workers nearly 40 years to discover that she had a mind at all, it was trapped in such a cruelly crippled body. The workers had finally taught her to speak, though I still could not understand her. I wondered why the Lord had left her here, forcing her to linger when she was obviously miserable.
One day I happened to attend a fast and testimony meeting at the school. At the very end of the meeting, Ethel asked to speak. I wondered why they allowed her to take up time when no one could understand what she said. Then Ethel spoke, clearly enough so that even I could understand her. She said, “I love life!”
I was very startled as I heard her say, “And I love my Heavenly Father!” I bowed my head and wept.
When Ethel finished her testimony, the “kids” sang the song that had fast become their favorite, “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here …” Each time I have heard it since, I have remembered Ethel and the beautiful lesson she taught me.

There is someone else at school counting on Michelle to do what’s right. Her younger sister, Melissa, 15, also attends Manzanilla High, and she has seen what her big sister’s example can do.
“It helps me to have a sister who stands up for what she believes,” Melissa says. “It makes it easier for me to do what’s right.” They see each other during the day and talk about how they’re getting along, and that helps both of them to stay strong.
“For example,” Michelle recalls, “one day some other girls were making fun of Melissa, saying unkind things about our nationality.” At lunch they talked it over, and Michelle was able to reassure Melissa, reminding her that she is a daughter of God with divine nature and of infinite worth. “That helped me feel better,” Melissa says. “It helped me remember who I am.”

You are never too young to strengthen your family. Just ask Edward B., age 7, from Halifax, Canada. His testimony helped his father realize that the Church is true. Now their family is holding family home evening for the very first time and getting ready to go to the temple!
When I was born, my dad wasn’t a member of the Church. When he tucked me in at night, I always told him, “Daddy, you have to know that this really is the true Church.” Mom and I prayed and prayed that he would join the Church. Finally, one day he told me that he wanted to be baptized!
Even our cat came to family home evening!
We sang my favorite Primary song, “Nephi’s Courage,” and had chocolate brownies, which I love.
To prepare for family home evening, we visited the Halifax Nova Scotia Temple grounds. I took lots of pictures.
During our first family home evening, we talked about how our family could get ready to go to the temple. Every time we thought of a way we could prepare to go to the temple, we put one of my pictures of the temple up on a board.
We braided bracelets out of colorful string. The strands of the bracelet are tied together to remind us that our family can be sealed together forever.

Ward families are a refuge. I know a young family who lived in south Los Angeles during the violent summer of 1992. They could feel the heat from the fires as they sat terrified in their little apartment. Their families in Salt Lake City offered encouragement and their prayers. They could do no more at such a distance. It was a ward member who made arrangements for this family to get themselves and their baby out safely. They stayed with members until they could go back to their apartment. They were safe.

Such were the missions in the early career of Lorenzo Snow—and the beginnings of many more. The following year he went to Great Britain. He was upon the sea forty-two stormy days. Writing to his aunt he described the storms:
“Just look at me in your lively imagination, in one of these terrific storms, seated to a large hogshead of water—holding on, with both hands, to ropes near by … the ship reeling and dashing from side to side—now and then a monster wave leaping over the bulwarks, treating all present with a shower bath—see, sitting near me, a man weeping bitterly with terror on his countenance—the next moment a wave shoots over the bulwarks, dashing him from his seat and landing him … on the opposite side, from which he arises with a broken arm and dripping wet.” Below, boxes broke loose and tumbled about among the groaning and crying women and children. Yet, through it all, Elder Snow was filled with peace, for he was on the Lord’s errand.

I was preparing to serve a mission while many things were shut down due to COVID-19. I needed to travel to the capital city of Uganda—Kampala—to get my passport but couldn’t take a taxi because of the pandemic. I knew I needed my passport to go on my mission, so I decided to walk four hours into the city.
When I finally got my passport, I was exhausted and my feet were swollen, but I knew it would be worth it.
And I was right!
The Lord promises that when we bring others to Him, we will experience joy (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:15).
As I shared the joyful message of the gospel of Jesus Christ while on my mission, I became more like the Savior and felt God’s love more deeply.
Now that I’m home, I can continue feeling that love and joy by sharing the gospel with friends and family.

In the early morning light of June 28, 1830, Newel Knight, Joseph Smith, and several other men quickly piled stones and logs in a small stream near Newel’s home in Colesville, Broome County, New York. The dam was to create a pond deep enough to perform baptisms. A similar dam had been built two days before so the visiting prophet could hold a baptism meeting, but in the night an angry mob that had been prompted by the local ministers destroyed it.
“Early on Monday morning we were on the alert, and before our enemies were aware of it, Oliver Cowdery proceeded to baptize Emma Smith …” [and 12 others, including many of the Knight family].
“But before the baptism was entirely finished, the mob began to collect again. We retired to my father’s house, and the mob, which numbered about fifty surrounded the house, raging with anger, and apparently wishing to commit violence against us,” Newel Knight wrote in his journal account of that day. Newel continued, “It was only by great providence on our part and help from our Heavenly Father that they were kept from laying violent hands on us.”
An evening meeting had been planned to confirm those who had been baptized that morning. Just as the new Saints of Colesville had gathered in one of the homes that night, Newel recorded, “The constable came and arrested Brother Joseph Smith, Jun. on a warrant charging him with being a disorderly person, and of setting the country in an uproar, by preaching the Book of Mormon.”
Brother Knight explained that when the constable saw the Prophet, he realized Joseph Smith was other than what he had been told by those demanding the arrest of the religious leader. Accordingly, the constable, who was a man of good conscience, told Joseph that a mob was not far away, waiting to ambush him. They eluded the mobbers, and Joseph Smith was taken about four miles away to an upper room in a tavern in South Bainbridge, Chenango County, to await trial, guarded all night by the constable.
Colesville had usually been a quiet farming community in lower New York state, and the Knights had been average citizens quite unaccustomed to public uproar.
The Knight family had become acquainted with Joseph Smith four years earlier in the fall of 1826. Joseph Knight, Sr., often hired seasonal workers on his farm, and his friend Josiah Stowell recommended to him a tall, young man named Joseph Smith as a good worker. Joseph was hired. He worked on the Knight farm and lived with the Knight family, and he developed a strong bond of trust and friendship with them. He roomed with Joseph Knight, Jr., who was close to his age, and he talked at length with the senior Mr. Knight. Newel Knight was married, but lived nearby and frequently worked and visited at his father’s farm. Over the harvest season and winter Joseph Smith shared confidences with the Knights. He told them of the visions he had seen and of the gold plates he was to receive in the coming months.
While at first a bit unsure about the amazing things he heard from Joseph Smith, Newel Knight became convinced of the truth of them and a very loyal friend as well. He wrote in his journal, “It is evident great things are about to transpire, that the Lord is about to do a marvelous work and wonder—that Joseph is to become an instrument in his hands to bring about this great and mighty work in the last days.”
Newel’s father was fascinated by what he had heard about an ancient record being buried in the hillside, and Mr. Knight, Sr., even drove his carriage up to Manchester, New York, to visit the Smith home for several days at the time in 1827 when Joseph Smith had told him he expected to receive the gold plates. Joseph and Emma Smith borrowed the carriage of Joseph Knight, Sr., to go to the Hill Cumorah to receive the gold plates.
Joseph Smith continued to visit the Knights in Colesville, to preach in their homes, and to share the Book of Mormon with them as it was translated. One day after a gospel discussion in Colesville with Joseph Smith, Newel Knight retired to the woods to pray. Newel found himself overtaken by an evil spirit that seemed to almost take control of his body. Distorted and distraught, Newel returned to his home and sent for Joseph. The Prophet came immediately and cast out the evil spirit, using the power of the priesthood. As a holy spirit filled Newel, he was literally lifted from the floor in a great spiritual experience. Many family members and neighbors witnessed this event that Joseph Smith referred to as the first miracle in the Church.
After such a long friendship with Joseph Smith, and on a day such as the one of his baptism, Joseph Knight could hardly stand by as his friend and his prophet was arrested and taken away on ridiculous charges.
As soon as the constable took Joseph Smith away, Joseph Knight, Sr., went out and hired two men, a Mr. James Davidson and a Mr. John S. Reid, who were “respectable farmers who were well versed in the laws of their country,” to help Joseph during his trial before Justice Joseph P. Chamberlain.
Newel wrote in his journal:
“On the following day a court was convened for the purpose of investigating the charges which had been made against Joseph Smith, Jun. On account of the many scandalous reports which had been put in circulation, a great excitement prevailed. …
“The trial commenced among a crowded multitude of spectators, who generally seemed to believe Joseph guilty of all that had been alleged against him, and, of course, were zealous to see him punished for his crimes.”
Many witnesses were called up against Joseph Smith, including Josiah Stowell, for whom he had worked, and Mr. Stowell’s daughters, whom Joseph had known socially. Despite many attempts to elicit something from them which could be held against Joseph, all of the witnesses reported that Joseph Smith had dealt with them fairly and kindly.
Joseph Smith was acquitted by the Chenango County court of all charges, and at the very moment he was released, officials from the neighboring Broome County presented another warrant for his arrest.
“The constable who served this second warrant upon Joseph had no sooner arrested him, than he began to abuse him,” Newel wrote. The constable refused Joseph food, even though Joseph had been in court all day with nothing to eat. Then Joseph was taken 15 miles to a tavern where men gathered to “abuse, ridicule, and insult him. They spit upon him, pointed their fingers at him, saying, ‘Prophesy! Prophesy!’” The only food Joseph received for the night at the tavern was crusts of bread and some water.
Joseph Smith was taken before the Magistrate’s Court in Colesville. Again, his friends, including the Knights and the counselors Mr. Knight had hired, were at his side.
Newel reported of the trial that many witnesses were called who swore to incredible falsehoods about Joseph Smith. Some of these witnesses contradicted themselves so plainly that the court would not allow their testimony. Others were zealous to convict Joseph but could only testify of things they had heard others say about him. Finally, Newel Knight himself was called as a witness by a prosecuting attorney, a Mr. Seymour, who had been sent for just for this occasion.
Newel faithfully recorded in his journal the interrogation given him by the lawyer Mr. Seymour:
“Mr. Seymour asked: ‘Did the prisoner, Joseph Smith, Jun., cast the devil out of you?’
“[Newel’s] Answer: ‘No, sir.’
“Question: ‘Why, have you not had the devil cast out of you?’
“Answer: ‘Yes, sir.’
“Question: ‘And had not Joseph Smith some hand in it being done?’
“Answer: ‘Yes, sir.’
“Question: ‘And did he not cast him out of you?’
“Answer: ‘No, sir, it was done by the power of God, and Joseph Smith was the instrument in the hands of God on this occasion. He commanded him to come out of me in the name of Jesus Christ.’
“Question: ‘And are you sure it was the devil?’
“Answer: ‘Yes, sir.’
“Question: ‘Did you see him after he was cast out of you?’
“Answer: ‘Yes, sir, I saw him.’
“Question: ‘Pray, what did he look like?’
“(Here one of the lawyers on the part of the defense told me I need not answer that question.) I replied:
“‘I believe I need not answer that question, but I will do it if I am allowed to ask you one, and you can answer it. Do you, Mr. Seymour, understand the things of the Spirit?’
“‘No,’ answered Mr. Seymour, ‘I do not pretend to such big things.’
“‘Well, then,’ I replied, ‘it will be of no use for me to tell you what the devil looked like, for it was a spiritual sight and spiritually discerned, and, of course, you would not understand it were I to tell you of it.’
“The lawyer dropped his head, while the loud laugh of the audience proclaimed his discomfiture.”
Following Newel’s testimony, the closing arguments were made. Mr. Seymour attacked the character of Joseph Smith in a violent harangue. The Colesville gentlemen Mr. Davidson and Mr. Reid followed on Joseph’s behalf, and even though they were not formally trained lawyers, they silenced all opposition and convinced the court that Joseph Smith was innocent. He was cleared in court of all charges and freed.
Even the second constable who had arrested Joseph Smith and treated him so cruelly came forward and apologized. The constable went so far as to warn the young prophet that a crowd was waiting to tar and feather him a short distance from the court, and the constable helped Joseph escape the mob.
This was just the beginning of the persecutions of Joseph Smith and of those who followed him, like Newel and Sally and Lydia Knight, and the families of the older and younger Joseph Knights. The Knights would follow Joseph Smith to Kirtland, Missouri, and Nauvoo; and finally both Newel Knight and Joseph Knight, Sr., lost their lives in the trek west to Salt Lake City. Their loyalty and faithfulness never wavered.
In 1842 in Nauvoo, Joseph Smith wrote about the Knights in his record book. He remembered well and listed the many kindly deeds where Joseph Knight, Sr., had helped him. About Newel and Joseph Knight, Jr., he wrote, “I record [their names] in the Book of the Law of the Lord with unspeakable delight, for they are my friends” (History of the Church, 5:125).

When his grandpa had a mild heart attack, Chris gave up his bedroom to his grandpa and grandma so that they could stay at his house. He did this and many other things without complaint. He helped Grandpa with his IV (medicine that Grandpa had to carry around with him), got him something to drink when he was thirsty, brought him his supper, and did anything else he needed when he couldn’t get around very well. Chris even helped Grandma in the kitchen. A happy, loving child, Chris always has a smile on his face and a song in his heart. He is active in the ward Primary and has borne his strong testimony in fast and testimony meeting at church.

I can remember an experience in my life that illustrates this idea. I was at Harvard Business School. I was stretched to my capacity. In a student’s first year at that institution, the teachers take away every bit of self-confidence you have, no matter what your background is before you get there, so that you learn what it’s like to have to achieve more than you’ve ever done in your life before.
At an important point in my schooling, a mission president asked me to be an elders quorum president. It is the only time in my life that I ever questioned an assignment. For every one of you the question will come in life, “When is the time to serve?” The only answer I can give you is, “When you are asked.”
So I went home and said to my wife, “There is a chance of failing in my schooling if I become an elders quorum president.” She said to me the words which have helped for many years: “Bob, I would rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard.” But as she put her arms around me, she said, “We’ll do them both.” That is eternal partnership.

In Primary we learned about giving “warm fuzzies.” We were given three fuzzy balls to cheer up someone who was sick or sad. The next Sunday I was sitting in my grandma’s sacrament meeting, and the man next to me was crying. I gave him a warm fuzzy. It made me feel good inside. A few weeks later, we went to my grandma’s ward New Year’s celebration. The man’s wife told my mom that I had made him feel good when I gave him the warm fuzzy. He thanked me for brightening his day.

Be original. Make the most of the road show theme by avoiding any obvious connections or trite treatments. For example, suppose the general road show theme is “Halos, Heroes, and ________.” First think of all the approaches that other wards or branches might use—angels, devils, pioneers, space heroes, etc. Then think of something different, something original. How about “Halos, Heroes, and HEADHUNTERS!”
How about a team of missionaries trying to convert savage headhunters in the jungle? The headhunters earn their “halos,” the missionaries become the “heroes,” and you’re off!
Back to “Halos, Heroes, and Headhunters.”
The problem: (Presented in the prologue in front of the curtain through a song, dance, and a few short lines.) A team of lady missionaries (“Salvation Marmees”) are off to the jungle again to convert the savage headhunters. The prospects look grim: “We’ve been trying for ten years and haven’t converted them yet!”
The conflict: Curtains open as a safari expedition enters the “jungle” from audience, looking for big game (song and dance). Safari is captured by headhunters and thrown into a stew or shrinking pot (another song and dance). Missionaries show up to convert headhunters (song.) Savages are angered and decide to eat missionaries (song and dance) as well as safari people.
The resolution: The terrifying ape of the jungle crashes through fake vines onto “jungle stage” and carries off savage chief. “That’s the fifth chief we’ve lost this week, and you’re gonna be next.” “Not me, you!” “Not me, you!” etc.
In desperation, savage headhunters decide to join the missionaries rather than be dinner for the gorilla (song and dance). They earn their “halos” just in time to take safari folks from shrinking pot. Of course the safari people now consider the missionaries their heroes for saving them and converting the headhunters, and everyone is happy (finale; song and dance). Curtains close.
Notice that this road show has a main plot (missionaries versus savages) and a subplot (savages versus safari) for added excitement. But the story and action are still simple to follow.
On paper, this plot (of an actual award-winning road show) may sound “corny.” On stage, with fluorescent-painted scenery, fluorescent makeup, black lights, and clever costuming, it was an audience winner.
Countermelodies are impressive too, that is, when two groups are singing different melodies and different words at the same time.
For example, the childhood tune, “Horsey, Horsey” was used effectively in “Halos, Heroes, and Headhunters.” The missionaries sang the first verse alone:
Natives, natives, join our group.
Before you make us into soup.
So let us shake your hand
And be your friend,
You’ll get a halo in the end!
Then the headhunters sang:
We’d like to take our salt and pepper,
We’d like to sharpen up our knives,
We’d like to have you for our dinner,
You’d better run to save your lives.
Then both groups sang their own verses at the same time.
A ward in Norfolk, Virginia, used simple effects like a carbon dioxide tank (these can be rented inexpensively) to make “smoke” appear at the base of a spaceship. The “Halos, Heroes, and Headhunters” crew had steam boil up and over the stew pot as the safari men were thrown in!
The use of a black light is very effective also. As the curtains opened on “Halos, Heroes, and Headhunters,” the scenery painted in fluorescent paint shone so beautifully under the black lights that the audience applauded the set!
9. And finally, remember imagination and creativity. Use appropriate humor. Puns are effective because they are short and easy to understand. The action should produce meaningful humor, not slapstick comedy. For example, the “Headhunter” script called for a stew pot or “shrinking pot,” into which three large safari men were thrown at the show’s beginning. At the end of the show, out came the three boys—only this time they were replaced by three short boys wearing the larger clothing so it dragged on the floor. The only dialogue was one line to their rescuers, “You came just in time!” No other explanation was necessary. The audience got the point and the humor, and they loved it!

As I sat there on the porch, I continued thinking about Cindy’s question. In one of our Primary lessons we learned that the Holy Ghost is the Spirit of Truth. Our teacher said that He would help us to not lie. I guessed I needed help with that too. I remembered the day Mom had come into the kitchen right after I had accidentally knocked the sugar bowl to the floor. Before she could even speak, I said, “Shauna made me do it.”
“Janna, look out the window,” she told me. “What do you see?”
I saw Shauna swinging on a rope hanging from the pecan tree. I said, “That’s how she made me do it. I was thinking about hurrying out to swing with her, and it made me bump into the table.”
“Janna.” Mom tilted my face toward hers. “None of us breaks dishes on purpose. We all have accidents. It isn’t the sugar bowl that counts. It’s you. More important to me than all the dishes in the cupboard—even the crystal glasses—is a little girl who tells the truth.”
I looked down at the floor. I knew I should’ve said I was sorry, but I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Don’t dishes sometimes get too close to the edge and fall off by themselves?”
“Oh, Janna Lynn,” Mom said, and I wished she’d spanked me instead of looking at me the way she did. It would have made me feel a lot better.
I was still sitting on the porch thinking when Katie and Shauna came running around the house. “Come and play catch with us,” they called.
We threw the ball back and forth to each other, and then Katie threw one that was too high for me. Running backward to catch it, I slipped and fell on my backside in a clump of Mom’s blue irises. Mom came out of the shed just then with a pair of clippers to cut a bouquet. I looked at the smashed flowers and was just starting to speak, when something inside of me seemed to say, “No, Janna Lynn, you’re not going to say Katie made you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I ran backward and fell.”
“Yes, I know. I saw you,” she replied.
“And you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
The way she laughed, I almost felt good about sitting on her flowers.
“Just look at all those irises that you didn’t sit on,” she said. “A daughter who tells the truth is more important than a whole yard full of flowers!”
Goodness! That must have been the Holy Ghost prompting me to tell the truth, I thought. And He’s helping me to learn what a great feeling you have when you know you’ve done the right thing. I could hardly wait to tell Cindy.

Now I will give you one more. Down in Quitman, Georgia, while I was a mission president, I preached a sermon on the eternal duration of the marriage covenant and the family unit. I had a chart there that listed the churches and what their beliefs were on major things, and those were official statements from the leaders of those different churches. And not one of them believed that the family unit or the marriage covenant would endure beyond the grave. I stood at the door when the meeting was over and a man came up and introduced himself as a Baptist minister, and I said, “Did I misquote you here tonight?”
He said, “No, Mr. Richards, it’s just like you say. We don’t all believe all the things our churches teach.”
I said, “You don’t believe them either. Why don’t you go back and teach your people the truth? They will take it from you; they are not ready to take it from the Mormon elders yet.”
He said, “I’ll see you again.” That’s all I could get out of him that night!
Next time I went there, about four months later, he had read of my coming in the newspaper, and there he was standing outside that little church. As we shook hands I said, “I would certainly be happy to know what you thought of my last sermon here.”
He said, “Mr. Richards, I have been thinking about it ever since, and I believe every word you said, only I would like to have heard the rest.” (We never get talked out; that’s why I’ve asked Brother Benson to tap me on the leg when my time is up!)

Sister Sheldon is the greatest Primary president ever! She is energetic and funny. When she stands up to do sharing time, we all chant, “It’s Sheldon sharing time” with jazz hands and smiles. She loves it!
Early in 2015 Sister Sheldon discovered that she had cancer again, for the fifth time! She explained to all of us what cancer is and what it does. She told us that she might miss church sometimes and she would probably lose her hair. She asked us to fast and pray to help make the cancer go away.
During this time, our Primary did the helping hands challenge, where we cut out paper hands and wrote on them an act of service we did. Sister Ashby, in the Primary presidency, had the idea to make a helping hands quilt for Sister Sheldon. We all wanted her to know that we love her, so the whole Primary traced hands and hearts, and the activity day girls used them to make a quilt. We sewed, ironed, and poured all of our love into it. Some of us even tied strings on our fingers to remember Sister Sheldon.
We gave the quilt to Sister Sheldon. She took it to her chemotherapy sessions and felt our love.
The best part was when Sister Sheldon bore her testimony to the entire Primary. She told us how special we were to her and that she loved us. She knew we were a big part of why she made it through chemo again. Even though I was scared that she might not make it, I just knew she would. Today Sister Sheldon is cancer free!