Gospel Story Finder

To offset the worldly messages that entice us to choose the wrong, the Lord has blessed us with symbols of purity to keep us on the right course to choose the right. I was reminded of one of these at a baptism of one of my granddaughters a few months ago. In the little program that preceded the ordinance of baptism, my granddaughter read a poem, which had been written by her mother for this special occasion.

My Three White Dresses
My mom bought me a white dress,
Not red or pink or blue.
She said it was a special dress
Like very other few.
There has been just one before,
A dress now put away,
That I wore some time ago
Upon my blessing day.
As a little baby clothed
In my first white dress,
My dad held me in his arms,
There to name and bless.
So pure and clean was I just then,
With time to grow and learn
About the Father’s plan for me.
My glory I must earn.
Now I’ve reached the age to judge
The wrong road from the right,
And I am here to be baptized
In this dress of white.
So once again I’m free from sin.
The path is clear to me.
I’ll grasp the rod and hold on tight,
I vow with certainty.
Just as mud would stain my dress,
Sin would stain my soul.
The key is to repent or bleach,
For whiteness is my goal.
And if I try my very best,
Then richly blessed I’ll be,
Wearing inside God’s holy house
White dress number three.
So today I make this pledge:
I’ll strive to choose the right,
Through this sacred baptism ordinance
In my second dress of white.
[Linda Gay Perry Nelson (1993)]

Joseph and Hyrum were assassinated by a mob on 27 June 1844. Joseph F. was not yet six years old, but the image of his uncle’s “lifeless body together with that of my father after they were murdered in Carthage jail” long remained with him.7 Though he never forgot the “Dreadful Scenes that … filled 10 thousand Hearts with grief and woe,” Joseph F. grew to understand the sacred significance of the martyrdom to himself, to his family, and to the Church.8 In later years, he frequently bore witness that the Prophet Joseph Smith fulfilled his destiny and sealed his testimony with his blood.

The second group of letters would read in part this way: “Your wife and mother was my stake leader in Spiritual Living. For one year I met with her for forty-five minutes each month and she had a profound influence on my life. She will always be one of the truly unforgettable people I have known. To me she exemplified spiritual living. She understood the needs of others and sought diligently to supply those needs.”

Throughout the square people learned from each other. A Laurel worked alongside an 85-year-old woman, explaining a new needlepoint stitch to her, and the sister taught the Laurel the practically lost art of tatting.

With so much to see and do at The Ranch, it’s hard to say what was the most memorable part of this youth conference. Perhaps it was Thursday evening’s spiritual activity. It began with an invitation after dinner to take a hayride to a meadow for homemade peach cobbler and whipped cream. It was a perfect day: billowy clouds in a beautiful blue sky. When the young men and women arrived at the meadow, they enjoyed running around in the knee-high grass. And the tall pine trees on the hills that circled the meadow were surpassed only by the spirit of togetherness shared by the youth and adult leaders. When they finished eating, everyone sang songs. Suddenly, three men dressed in white came walking down the hill. As previously planned by the adults, but unknown to the youth, these three men represented the Three Nephites (see 3 Ne. 28).

“It was breathtaking, watching those white figures walk down from the hill,” said Sharon Frazier. “At first, we were all quiet, not knowing what to think. And then we started to sing, ‘I am a Child of God’ as they came closer. They told us that we are a choice generation, and very special spirits reserved especially for this time period.”

The youth were split up in groups, each accompanied by one of the three guests. Each group discussed a beatitude from the Sermon on the Mount (see Matt. 5), then discussed a particular question. One of the questions was, “If you could change something, what would it be?” Norma Nerdin, 15, said, “I’m going to make my Church habits more steady. You know, things like prayer and scripture study. And I need to talk about my problems more. Everybody has difficulties. It’s important that we let others know when we are having a hard time.” Norma said that it was a moment she would remember forever.

Heather Baxter, 16, was in another group. Her question was, “What would make you happy?” “I would want to have a pure testimony,” she said. “If someone asked me if I knew the Church was true, I would be able to know for sure and answer them without having any doubts.

As I approached the eighth anniversary of my birth, I learned something else about being born. I was instructed by my parents and by my Church teachers in the philosophy of Jesus that one birth is not enough, and that everyone should be born twice.

And so on August 27, 1911, I was born of the water and of the spirit in exactly the meaning of that great command as given by the Savior of the world. And I came forth in a newness of life with a new set of possibilities. I had hands laid upon my head and a prayer was offered in my behalf for the reception of the Holy Ghost, and I was confirmed by my father as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; and from that moment until this I have had the direction of those great principles of righteousness and the promptings of the Holy Spirit to help me make of my life something approaching what the Lord would like to have me make of it.

Both Arvind and Geeta Naidu are from Fiji and claim Indian heritage. Despite having lived in the U.S. for many years, they haven’t forgotten their Indian roots and have been to India several times looking for their ancestors.

Geeta explained, “In Fiji we are separated from India. We have lost contact. There are millions of us out there that love India and want to connect to our ancestors.”

Geeta’s grandfather Ibrahim was a Muslim. “He came from the village of Diwari in Haryana in 1911 as an indentured servant to work in the sugar cane fields,” she said. “He became a Christian, married and had four children. When his wife died in childbirth, he left them in an orphanage and returned to India. I am looking for him.”

Geeta continued, “We came to India trying to find our forefathers, but our initial attempts were fruitless, so we changed our strategy. A friend who is a family history consultant suggested that maybe the Lord’s mission for me was to become a ‘heart specialist’ to my people first, and it would lead me to my nana. These inspired words motivated us to turn our focus to our fellow Indian members to help them catch the vision of family history and temple work.”

A girl’s journal is often a record of her dreams, and Annapurna Guru’s journal held her most cherished desire. “Someday,” she wrote, “I will go to the temple.”
Annapurna was not a member of the Church when she wrote these words. Raised in Hyderabad, India, she had learned something about Christianity as a child in a Catholic school. Then, in 1992, her older brother met Latter-day Saint missionaries and was baptized. Annapurna was 14 when her brother, Murthy, gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon. “Once I read it,” she recalls, “I felt it was true.”
Annapurna found in the gospel answers to her most troubling questions, especially her worry about what happens after death. But just as surely as she knew the gospel to be true, she knew something else: Her parents would not allow her to be baptized in a Christian church.
During her remaining teenage years, Annapurna lived her new faith quietly. She read the Book of Mormon and the Bible. She prayed. She learned all she could. And she began to form in her mind a beautiful dream: Someday she would marry a Latter-day Saint. Someday she would go to the temple. And someday she would give her children the precious gift she lacked: membership in the Lord’s Church.

Primary was held during the week in those days, and every Monday at three o’clock in the afternoon, Bishop Whiting would say, “Jay, your work is through for the day; off to Primary.”

Joyce Baggerly of Provo, Utah, considers herself a member of the Lord’s kingdom on earth who happens to be single. “Being single in a mostly married church has never been a problem for me,” she says. “I would rather be married, but I’m not, so I do the best I can with what I have.”
When she moves into a new ward, she finds the executive secretary and requests an appointment with the bishop, and she makes sure the membership clerk requests her records.
“I introduce myself to the Relief Society president and request a visiting teaching assignment. The first fast Sunday, I bear my testimony of Jesus Christ and express how much I love the Savior. I attend every activity the ward has,” she says. “On the rare occasion when I come home from a meeting where I feel ignored, I say a prayer that I might be able to go again with the same cheerful countenance I usually have on Sunday and that I can keep that smile until I am accepted.”

All of these man-made solutions remind us very much of the cartoon which appeared recently in a national magazine. It depicted a department store clerk showing a weird kind of Tinker Toy to a mother. The clerk remarked, “Madam, this toy will prepare your child for modern living. It will teach him about life. No matter how you put it together, it still won’t work.”

“Do you think we’ll ever finish?” I asked Lacey as we stared at my messy bedroom. “Mom says it looks like a tornado hit it.”
“My room’s been worse,” Lacey replied with a giggle.
I was glad Lacey was willing to help me. Not every friend would help clean up a room that looked like a disaster zone. But luckily Lacey thought that cleaning bedrooms was fun—as long as it wasn’t her own.
I grabbed a CD and stuck it in my pink CD player. Usually I played popular music while I did my chores, but this time I put in a CD of Primary music that my Primary teacher had given me.
In an instant, my bedroom was filled with a chorus of children singing songs like “I Am a Child of God,” “I Lived in Heaven,” and “The Church of Jesus Christ.”
As we placed stuffed animals in the closet, hung up my clothes, and listened to the music, a sweet, spiritual feeling filled the room. Lacey wasn’t a member of the Church, but I could tell that she felt it, too. I’d never felt the Holy Ghost this strongly before.
“What does your church believe in?” she asked.
It would have been impossible to tell her everything that I’d ever learned at home and in Primary, so I just explained that we believed in Jesus Christ, the Bible, and the Book of Mormon. Then I recited the first and second articles of faith that I’d memorized for my Faith in God Award.
“I go to church, too,” Lacey said. “See?” She showed me her necklace, which had a gold cross on it.
I lifted the necklace up from my shirt. “We both have gold necklaces,” I said. “except mine says ‘CTR.’ That stands for ‘Choose the Right.’”
We smiled at each other. Suddenly I felt that we both needed to do something more important than just clean a room. We had to do something special.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s finish up quick so we can do something really good!”
“Maybe we could start a do-gooders club or something,” said Lacey excitedly.
“I know!” I said. “Let’s make a bunch of sugar cookies and give them to our neighbors.”
We raced downstairs and told my mom about our idea. “Can we do it?” we asked.
“Sure,” she said.
Mom helped us find a recipe and get out all the ingredients. Then Lacey and I mixed, rolled, and baked until we had six heaping plates of cookies. We decorated them with squiggly lines of green frosting.
“They smell wonderful!” Mom said.
And they tasted good, too! Lacey and I snatched a couple of cookies, then delivered the rest to the neighbors who lived on our street. It was fun to see the surprised looks on their faces when we handed them their own big plate of warm cookies.
Lacey and I practically skipped all the way back to my house.
“Well, I’ve got to go,” she said. “It’s getting late.”
“OK, I’ll see you later!” I replied.
It had been a great afternoon. Maybe Lacey could visit my church one day and sing the songs with me in Primary. But in the meantime, I was glad to know that we could have fun together doing nice things for people and that we could both feel close to Heavenly Father.

My great-grandmother Ann Stewart, born in 1833, had an older sister Elizabeth. She and her grandmother, known simply as “Granny,” brought the rest of the family into the Church as a result of a remarkable experience they enjoyed together.
When the Mormon missionaries came to the home of my great-great-grandfather Archibald Stewart in Ireland, Elizabeth, the third child, immediately felt the truthfulness of their message. She began to study and search for more assurance of the things she felt within. Her feelings and study stirred an immediate response in Granny, who was the real matriarch of the Stewart household.
Elizabeth spent many hours explaining to Granny, through written material, that a new prophet of God, Joseph Smith, had been called to bring back to earth the simple message that Christ was alive and had appeared to man.
Elizabeth felt a testimony burning within and asked her parents for permission to be baptized. But because of the unpopularity of the Mormons, her parents objected. Then, when Elizabeth was about to give up, Granny came to her rescue. “Let the child alone,” she said. “I have read all her books, and I do believe the child is right.” Granny was not one to be overruled, so her parents gave their consent.
On January 9, 1841, a wintry day, as Elizabeth left home with her baptismal clothes she found Granny by her side. The two walked to the river where the elders planned to hold the services. A hole had been broken in the ice. When the elders came forward to baptize Elizabeth, Granny said, “Watch your manners, child. Never step in front of your elders.”
Granny was baptized. She had brought nothing to change into, but even though she walked home in wet, frozen clothing, she didn’t take cold. She didn’t change her clothes until all the other family members had gone to bed. She said nothing about her baptism, but went about her usual tasks as though nothing had happened. After the others were asleep, she hung all her clothing near the fireplace.
When Elizabeth’s father, Archibald, got up the next morning, he saw the clothes drying. He began to joke to the others about Granny having been dipped in the river along with Elizabeth. Granny surprised him though, when she said, “Archibald, if you don’t want people to hear, stop shouting so loudly. You can’t talk about Granny now, for she can hear better than any of you.”
Granny had been deaf for 20 years, but a miracle had occurred. Her hearing had been restored at the time of her baptism. From that day until her death, she heard distinctly. In fact, Archibald laughingly said she heard too much!
This manifestation of the power of the Lord through his appointed servants made the family think seriously. They studied the gospel and as a result most of them were soon baptized.

Diaper changing was the most notorious assignment of the day. In one group, all five teammates, girls and boys, pitched in together to complete the odious task. But in another group, Joanna McLay, as the only girl among four boys, found she was the one selected whenever her team encountered a diaper to change.

The next morning, Joseph said nothing about Moroni, even though he knew his father also believed in visions and angels. Instead, they spent the morning harvesting a nearby field with Alvin.

The work was difficult. Joseph tried to keep pace with his brother as they swung their scythes back and forth through the tall grain. But Moroni’s visits had kept him awake all night, and his thoughts kept returning to the ancient record and the hill where they were buried.

Soon he stopped working, and Alvin noticed. “We must keep to work,” he called out to Joseph, “or we shall not get our task done.”14

Joseph tried to work harder and faster, but no matter what he did, he could not keep up with Alvin. After a while, Joseph Sr. noticed that Joseph looked pale and had stopped working again. “Go home,” he said, believing his son was sick.

Joseph obeyed his father and stumbled back toward the house. But as he tried to cross a fence, he collapsed to the ground, exhausted.

While he lay there, gathering strength, he saw Moroni standing above him once more, surrounded by light. “Why did you not tell your father what I told you?” he asked.

Joseph said he was afraid his father would not believe him.

“He will,” Moroni assured him, then repeated his message from the night before.15

Joseph Sr. wept when his son told him about the angel and his message. “It was a vision from God,” he said. “Attend to it.”16

Just before my family was ready to leave for sacrament meeting, I got my finger stuck inside the end of a baseball bat. I pulled and pulled, but it would not come out. When my mom tried to get it out, it began to hurt and swell. I did not want to pull anymore. We decided to say a prayer and ask for Heavenly Father’s help. Right after we prayed, my mom had an idea. She poured some cooking oil on my finger. Finally, after some effort it popped out, and we were able to make it to church on time. I know that Heavenly Father answers our prayers.

While reading this letter, I returned in my thoughts to a visit to one of the great art galleries of the world—even the famed Victoria and Albert Museum in London, England. There, exquisitely framed, was a masterpiece painted in 1831 by Joseph Mallord William Turner. The painting features heavy-laden black clouds and the fury of a turbulent sea portending danger and death. A light from a stranded vessel gleams far off. In the foreground, tossed high by incoming waves of foaming water, is a large lifeboat. The men pull mightily on the oars as the lifeboat plunges into the tempest. On the shore there stand a wife and two children, wet with rain and whipped by wind. They gaze anxiously seaward. In my mind I abbreviated the name of the painting. To me, it became To the Rescue.

In closing, I return to the painting by Turner. In a very real sense, those persons stranded on the vessel which had run aground in the storm-tossed sea are like many young men—and older men as well—who await rescue by those of us who have the priesthood responsibility to man the lifeboats. Their hearts yearn for help. Mothers and fathers pray for their sons. Wives and children plead to heaven that Daddy and others may be reached.

In 1857 Verne met Honorine, a young widow with two daughters. Marriage to her meant that he had a family to support, so it was important that he earn more money. He and a friend went into business as stockbrokers.
Meanwhile Jules kept writing. His first novel, Five Weeks in a Balloon, published in 1862, was an instant success. He was able to quit his job as a stockbroker and write full-time. He continued writing until the last few months of his life. Master of the World was published in November 1904, four months before he died.

“Sarah! Sarah, wake up!” five-year-old Christiana Larsen said to her little sister. “It’s time to leave.”
Three-year-old Sarah struggled to open her eyes.
“But it’s still dark outside,” she complained sleepily.
“I know, but Mama says we have to get an early start. The ship to America leaves soon.”
The Larsen family had joined the Church in Denmark. Now they would be making the long journey to join the Saints in the Salt Lake Valley.
Christiana helped Sarah get dressed. Then the little girls tearfully took one last look around their comfortable bedroom. They knew it would be a long time before they would sleep in a real bed again.
“Don’t forget your parasol, Sarah,” Christiana said as she picked up her own lacy silk parasol. “Mama said she would pack them with the bedding.”
Mama and Papa had said they couldn’t take anything besides necessities on the trip to America. After the bedding, clothing, and tools were packed, there wouldn’t be much room for anything else. But Christiana and Sarah had begged to take just one favorite thing to their new home. After all, they were leaving behind their dolls, books, and toys. Each girl chose her pretty parasol.
As the sun rose, Christiana and her family boarded the ship that would sail to America. They were excited to go to Zion, even though they had to leave friends, family, and their home.
The ocean voyage was long and tiresome. During the hot afternoons on the ship, the two girls used their pretty parasols to keep the sun off their heads. If the wind blew in the right direction, the ship sailed steadily on. But if it changed course, the ship was forced back, often as far as it had already come.
When the Larsens landed in America, they bought a wagon and oxen and began the long journey to the Salt Lake Valley. The ride in the wagon was bumpy and hot, so Christiana and Sarah often walked instead.
Like many other pioneer families, Christiana’s family experienced hardships and tragedy along the way. Christiana’s newborn brother died during their journey and was buried on the plains.
After the Larsen family reached the Salt Lake Valley in 1857, Christiana loved to go to church with other children her age. Christiana and Sarah happily carried their parasols to church every Sunday to keep the hot desert sun off their faces.
As the days and weeks went by, the family’s money and food began to run out. One night Christiana heard her parents discussing the problem. Her father said he knew of a family who had been blessed with a good harvest of grain. The Larsens could trade something they had for some flour. But what did they have to trade?
Christiana spoke up. “You can trade Sarah’s and my parasols, Papa.”
“But you love your parasols, Christiana. I couldn’t do that!”
“It’s all right, Papa,” Christiana said. “We need the food more than we need the parasols.”
The next day Christiana’s father traded the beautiful lacy parasols for some flour. The flour provided food for the whole family.
That night, as Christiana got ready for bed, she looked sadly at the corner where her lovely parasol had stood. But as she remembered the wonderful bread she had eaten for supper, her sadness turned to gratitude. As she said her prayers that night, she thanked Heavenly Father for her lovely parasol, which helped to feed her family.

Hello! I’m Priyanka. I live in Visakhapatnam. I love Jesus Christ and His teachings. I used to attend different churches. One fine day I told my friend who is a Christian that I wanted to get baptised. Then she introduced me to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints. I really liked the fellowship of the members and the standards of the Church. I took the lessons from the Elders, and I asked my parents’ permission to get baptised. They told me that I could attend church but not get baptised. So I continued attending church and read Book of Mormon with my friend. After a few months, my mom started coming to church, but she didn’t gain her testimony yet. After two years I thought of being baptised without informing my parents.
One day as I was reading a message shared in the Liahona magazine, I strongly felt that I should ask my parents about my baptism again. I did, but my dad again said no. Then my mom spoke with him, and he finally agreed. I, along with my mom, got baptised on April 9, 2017—a most memorable day in my life. Because I followed the Holy Spirit’s promptings and asked my parents again, the Lord blessed me so much that my family members and friends attended my baptism. As the prophet Nephi described his feelings in the scriptures, “And I was led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which I should do” (1 Nephi 4:6). Similar were my feelings when I think about my baptism.