Gospel Story Finder

I was worried about my future. Then I read “Improving Our Prayers” by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in the August 2004 issue. I realized that, as Elder Wirthlin says, I must “fret not”—meaning I must stop worrying about things I cannot control—so I will not create unhappiness in my life.Belle C. Dacudag, Bata Ward, Bacolod Philippines North Stake

The first deviation toward moral breakdown in a man or woman is similar to a spark that ignites a devastating forest fire. On a hot, windy summer day this year in Midway, Utah, embers from a small campground fire were fanned into a raging forest fire that soon swept over the entire mountainside. Before the flames were brought under control, the lives of two outstanding members of the Church were lost. The roaring fire had destroyed the beautiful autumn foliage, plus eighteen homes. We risk similar damage to our moral integrity when we let our guard down for even one brief moment. The spark of an evil thought can enter our mind and could ignite and destroy the moral fiber of our soul.

How do you tell in 68 minutes the story of someone whose accomplishments were larger than life? In this case, with long-range planning, intense preparation, prayer—and the kind of help that film production companies ordinarily do not get.
Those involved in filming Joseph Smith The Prophet of the Restoration can attest that there was help with the project beyond what they could have accomplished on their own—help, for example, with casting lead actors and with two perfect days for scheduled filming in the middle of a run of bad weather.

Also, it was a problem there for the missionaries to get the proper kinds and quantities of food in Jamaica. They could obtain some staples essential to good nutrition but only after prolonged and tedious trouble and waiting. Another problem, another solution: teach and baptize the grocer. This they did, and thereafter had no problem in obtaining the food they needed and wanted.

In my nephew’s priesthood quorum, just a few hours before he died, Tanner said this: “You know, if I were to die soon, I would want my funeral to be a missionary farewell.” My prayer tonight is that we can be equally clear about our mission as women of God. This isn’t just a really nice church that teaches really nice ideas so that we can live really nice lives. This is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, endowed with His power and charged with carrying His truth to the ends of the earth. I love our Father. And I love His Son. And I have come to know for myself that this is Their work and Their Glory and that we are the most blessed of all women to have such a vital part in it. May we lift our “voices as with the sound of a trump” (D&C 42:6). May we find joy as we stand tall and stand together. And may we “cheerfully do all things that lie in our power” (D&C 123:17), and then stand still to see the arm of God revealed as His work goes forward boldly and nobly until “it has … swept every country, and sounded in every ear, till the purposes of God shall be accomplished, and the Great Jehovah shall say the work is done” (History of the Church, 4:540). In the sacred and holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Lou Gehrig, Pride of the Yankees Though he was left-handed and not a catcher, the best present Lou ever received was a right-handed catcher’s mitt from his parents. He never missed a day of school, and he played in 2,130 consecutive games and set many other records as a Yankee. Easy to read.Keith Brandt9–12 years

“When I joined the Church, I didn’t have confidence to talk to people,” Shinnah says. “When I was given a calling to serve as a Young Women class president, I was so surprised. I had never been a leader before. I had to practice how to talk in front of other people and how to share my testimony. Then one day my bishop called me to his office. He told me that I am so loved and that Heavenly Father will strengthen me in everything I do.”

A bonnet from pioneer days was unraveling, so a simple round support was sewn to help it retain its shape. In addition, Sister Hadley added an identical piece of silk over the original, connected by tiny hand-stitching.

Before leaving Nauvoo in the winter of 1846, President Brigham Young had a dream in which he saw an angel standing on a cone-shaped hill somewhere in the West pointing to a valley below. When he entered the Salt Lake Valley some 18 months later, he saw just above the location where we are now gathered the same hillside prominence he had seen in vision.
As has often been told from this pulpit, Brother Brigham led a handful of leaders to the summit of that hill and proclaimed it Ensign Peak, a name filled with religious meaning for these modern Israelites. Twenty-five hundred years earlier the prophet Isaiah had declared that in the last days “the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains,” and there “he shall set up an ensign for the nations.”
Seeing their moment in history as partial fulfillment of that prophecy, the Brethren wished to fly a banner of some kind to make the idea of “an ensign for the nations” literal. Elder Heber C. Kimball produced a yellow bandana. Brother Brigham tied it to a walking stick carried by Elder Willard Richards and then planted the makeshift flag, declaring the valley of the Great Salt Lake and the mountains surrounding it as that prophesied place from which the word of the Lord would go forth in the latter days.

Just two years after I was baptized, I decided I wanted to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary. On my mission I helped many people learn about the Savior so that they could invite Him into their lives.

Awakened by her father, Maron risked her life and ran most of the night to warn the leader, Teomnihah, of impending danger. After her arrival at the home where Teomnihah was staying, a knock was heard at the door, and a guard demanded to know what was going on. Unsatisfied with the reply, he broke down the door, but not before Maron was hidden inside a large basket.
You were given orders,” the man snapped. “No more meetings with more than two of you together at one time. And no more talk of a savior.”
Maron pressed her face against the inside of the basket, trying to see through the woven straw.
“Nephites!” The huge man spit again and waved his sword wildly. “King Jacob will rule. Mocum will see to that!”
Two more guards entered the house. “Take them away,” the first guard ordered. “I knew they could not keep from meeting. Twelve of them! A fine lot of prisoners we have captured.”
Maron’s mind raced as fast as her heart. It ached just as much too. Had she been the one to cause all this? Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She must do nothing more to bring harm to these good men.
The three guards shoved the Nephite men outside.
“Only at night the daughter of Tat goes home,” Teomnihah said loudly as he passed through the doorway.
“Silence!” a tall guard cried, striking Teomnihah across the cheek before turning back and searching the room with his eyes. Maron closed her eyes and held her breath until she no longer heard footsteps.
There were blankets and clothing in the basket, making it stuffy and sweaty, but Maron dared not leave it. Pushing her face once more against the straw wall, she breathed deeply. Why didn’t I realize that Kurom would also be under guard? How could I have been so foolish? Over and over her father’s words sang in her mind—“Your acts must never be more eager than your thoughts.”
Rays of sunlight were beginning to appear in the doorway. Maron’s cramped arms and legs ached. She yearned to stretch, to run, to be home. But Teomnihah’s words were clear. She must wait until nightfall. Snuggling into a scratchy blanket, she worried and blamed and feared until she finally fell asleep.
When she awoke, the sun was burning brightly. In the stuffy basket Maron caught a whiff of springtime freshness as a breeze gently entered the room. She moved her hand toward her eyes but could not reach her face. Her legs were numb, and a sharp pain shot up her sweaty back. Through the basket weave she saw the bread and cheese near the cupboard. She had been hungry before, but now she was starving. She could see or hear no one.
“There is no choice,” she murmured. “I’d rather be a prisoner than stay here any longer.” Pushing up the lid, she struggled to stand. The cover opened easily, falling back on its leather hinges. But Maron slumped back onto the blanket, her legs unable to hold her.
“I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry,” Maron hissed through her clenched teeth.
Relaxing in the basket, she let the fresh air envelop her. Slowly she wiggled her arms, then her legs. She felt relieved as life tingled into her legs and feet. She stood carefully, testing one leg and then the other. Finally she climbed out of the basket and hurried to the bread and cheese, eating her fill and putting the rest in her cloak pocket.
It wasn’t until Maron had eaten that she realized that just as the night had been too still, so was the day. Once more fear raced through her. Crawling to the broken door, she peered out. There were no people, no movements, no sounds.
I must get home to Father. He will protect me. Hurriedly Maron jumped to her feet and ran from the house. Staying close to the row of houses, she scurried down the path that led out of the city. The sun shone directly overhead in a clear blue sky. The gentle breeze barely moved the tall grasses. Stumbling, falling, sliding, Maron made her way down the hillside toward the forest.
“Stop! Stop!” a voice far behind her shouted. Instead of stopping, she ran faster. An arrow whizzed past her right arm and lodged in a tree.
Her stiff, sore legs begged to stop, but the fear pounding in her heart pushed her on faster and faster until she was concealed by the dense forest. Reluctantly she slowed to a trot. Her lungs burned with each gasp of air and her feet were bleeding, but she hurried on, afraid to stop. The gasp and hiss of her own breathing exploded in her head so loudly that she wasn’t aware of the sounds now filling the world. The gentle breeze began to whip, and the spring air began to chill. By the time Maron noticed anything, the sun was disappearing behind ominous black clouds. “I’m almost home,” Maron whispered, unable to keep the tears inside any longer. “I’m almost home.”
But the wind was now whipping and beating so hard that Maron could no longer run. Fighting to even walk against the wind, she dodged the flailing tree limbs and flying leaves. Never before had she seen such a storm. Every step became more difficult. Rain began pouring from the black clouds—great sheets of water that drenched her cloak, her tunic, and her nightclothes.
Maron could go no farther. Falling into the mud, she began to cry. “Please, please help me,” she prayed. The mud splashed around her. The rain and wind whistled fiercely. “Please!”
“Maron. Maron.” It was a faint sound.
Surely I must be dreaming. No voice could travel through such a storm. I should have done as Teomnihah said and waited until nightfall.
“Maron. Maron.” The words were clearer now. Startled, Maron jerked her head up to see her brother! As Melekib grabbed frantically at her arm, Maron blinked in disbelief. It was Melekib. The cold wind beat the falling water against her face, but the sight of Melekib kindled hope in her heart and gave her strength.
Melekib helped Maron to her feet and motioned for her to follow. Gratefully she obeyed as the sky ripped apart with bolts of lightning, followed by roaring thunder. Behind them a tree crashed to the ground, fire spitting from it in giant licks.
“Run!” Melekib shouted.
Maron’s energy was spent. Stumbling and slipping in the mud, she tried to hurry, but her legs wouldn’t obey the command.
Melekib’s worried face searched the dim forest. They were almost out, almost to the outskirts of Bountiful. Grabbing Maron’s arm, he half-pulled, half-pushed her out of the forest and into a hut. He had to throw himself against the door and bar it to keep out the raging wind.
Maron recognized the hut as an abandoned house she and Melekib had played in when they were younger. The hard dirt floor was sloshing with water blown through the windows, but her exhausted body could do nothing more than fall in a heap.
Melekib sat beside her, yelling to be heard over the storm. “Father sent me. He was worried.”
Maron nodded. There was no use trying to tell him what had happened over the noise of the storm.
“We shall stay here until the storm is over.” Patting her shoulder reassuringly, Melekib leaned against the cold cement wall to wait.
Instead of getting better, the storm became more ferocious. Lightning and thunder ripped the air, and the wind raged angrily. For a long time the two listened to the storm’s angry cries. Finally Maron sat up next to Melekib and rubbed her aching legs and sore feet. “What is happening?” she asked. “This is more than a storm.”
“I do not know,” Melekib replied, “but God will be with us.” He squeezed her hand three times, a signal their mother had used ever since they could remember for “I love you.”
“It can’t get worse!” Maron shouted. But even as she said the words, the little cement hut shook and the air shattered with thunder and grew colder. The very earth began to shake and tremble. Maron grabbed Melekib as the earth rolled and groaned and the floor beneath them cracked. The walls trembled and the ceiling ruptured. It held a moment, then broke loose on one side, falling into the house. Maron screamed, “Melekib!” But he didn’t answer. A bolt of lightning split the sky, and Maron saw that he had been hit by the edge of the fallen roof. Blood trickled over his closed eyes and down his cheeks. Swaying, trembling, cracking, the earth shook Maron away from Melekib, but she fought her way back to his side. Using her wet cloak, she wiped the blood from his face.
The earth steadied itself momentarily and then trembled again. For a long while the quake pattern repeated itself, first resting then shaking violently. Maron fought to stay at her brother’s side. In another flash of lightning she saw that the bleeding had stopped. But Melekib did not move.
The storm raged for hours. Tired, hurt, and scared, Maron prayed as she tried to minister to Melekib. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the earth stopped shaking.
Slowly Melekib rolled his head and sat up. “Oh, my head,” he groaned. “We’ve got to get home.” Melekib tried to stand but fell back groaning.
“Don’t move. You must rest.” Maron tried to comfort him, but her heart raced with fear. What now? she thought. For once my actions must have the wisdom of thought. But no thought came, only tears.
Now the wind and rain stopped, but the stormy dimness faded into absolute darkness—a darkness that filled not only the eyes, but the heart.
“Melekib!” Maron cried. “I am becoming blind like our mother! I cannot see my hand when I place it in front of my face. I am afraid. What is happening?”
“Maron,” Melekib said, “do not be afraid. It is a time to be joyful.”
“Joyful!” she exclaimed. “What are you saying, my brother?”
“Maron, think. Do you not remember Samuel, the Lamanite prophet, saying that there would be terrible storms and that many mountains would be toppled and—”
“And three days of darkness!” Maron broke in.
“There has never been such darkness!” Melekib declared. “It must be the sign of the Savior’s death. It is just as our father and mother told us it would be.”
“It must be so,” Maron whispered reverently. “He is dead! Oh, Melekib, what will happen now?”
(To be concluded.)

Early in the morning today I went to the municipality offices in Dombo Tombo, and while we were in line a woman dropped a $20 note on the ground. I saw it fall and told her about it. She picked it up and said, “Thank you.”
Many of the other people in line said to me, “You are stupid. You are foolish. Why didn’t you take the money and buy your own things?”
But I said, “No, I shall never do that because I am a child of God.”
When the others calmed down, an older man who was standing behind me said quietly, “Do you go to church? It seems as if you are a good girl.”
And I said, “Yes, I go to church.”
And he said, “What is the name of your church?”
I said, “It is called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If you want to, you can come to the Dombo Tombo Hall on Tuesday nights at 5:30 P.M. or on Sunday at half past ten and I will meet you there.”
And the man said, “Oh, yes! I will come!”
So I am very happy about what I did today.

Before Joseph’s 15th year, his family moved to Manchester, New York. He later described the great religious revival which seemed everywhere present at this time and of prime concern to nearly everyone. Joseph, himself, longed to know which church he should join. He writes in his history:
“I often said to myself: … Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together? If any one of them be right, which is it, and how shall I know it?
“While I was laboring under the extreme difficulties caused by … these parties of religionists, I was one day reading the Epistle of James, first chapter and fifth verse … : If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”
Joseph reported that he knew he must either put the Lord to the test and ask Him or perhaps choose to remain in darkness forever. Early one morning he stepped into a grove, now called sacred, and knelt and prayed, having faith that God would give him the enlightenment which he so earnestly sought. Two personages appeared to Joseph—the Father and the Son—and he was told, in answer to his question, that he was to join none of the churches, for none of them was true. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us the principle of faith—by example. His simple prayer of faith on that spring morning in 1820 brought about this marvelous work which continues today throughout the world.

Not long after, the rebels hit again. They burned down the house I was living in, and as I was running to escape the flames, I took time to save only two things—my scriptures and my hygiene kit. We had to live on the run for a while after that, and I used my hygiene kit to help those around me. I would squeeze out one pinch of toothpaste for each person, or we would go to the river and carefully pass my bar of soap from person to person. The kit was so precious to us. The blanket, too, was invaluable. It sheltered us for many days until I used it to wrap an old woman who had died and had nothing to be buried in.

Another fine young elder was called on a mission. At the time, he drove cars across the country for a foreign car company. When his boss, who was not LDS, heard he was going to be gone for two years to serve a mission, he said, “If you will stay at home and work for me, I will give you a $28,000 Ferrari.” Elder Grannis completed his mission a month ago as a presiding zone leader.

Thanks for your hard work today. Here’s your pay for the last month.
Thanks! See you Monday.
Yes! Now I finally have enough to buy that bike! I can’t wait to ride around the city with my friends next week.
Hey, I know that look. You got paid today?
Yep!
It was my payday too! I grabbed an extra tithing envelope if you need one.
Oh. Yeah. I forgot about tithing. Can’t I just … pay it next month?
Well, son, that’s your choice to make. But I’ve always felt the blessings that come from paying tithing as soon as I can.
I get what mom’s saying, but … if I pay tithing now, I won’t be able to buy that bike for a whole other month!
But why shouldn’t I buy it now? I have lots of good reasons to do it.
It’ll help me get to school and work faster. …
I can use it to help mom run errands when she’s busy. …
I’ll get lots of exercise riding around with my friends. … Isn’t mom always saying I should spend more time outside?
The next Sunday…
“Consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold, they are blessed in all things, both temporal and spiritual.”—Mosiah 2:41
I still wish I had my bike. Think of how fast I could get groceries! But I also feel … happy. Even without it. Does that make sense?
It does to me.
Maybe I’ll start saving for a bike too. Then we can race to the market!
Ha! Only if you like second place!

Let me give you an example. Suppose you want to know how the human body works. Faith tells us that our bodies were created through an inspired process, that they were made in the image of our Heavenly Parents, that we have a stewardship over them to keep them sacred and healthy during our mortal probation, and that we will reclaim them as perfect after the resurrection. That is the message of faith. That’s like one oar on a boat.

But to understand their workings—whether an illness is caused by a chemical imbalance or through a fever, how to set a broken bone properly, or how to replace an improperly functioning valve in the heart by surgery—that requires intense and detailed study. Study is the other oar by which we can seek and obtain knowledge.

What happens if you try to paddle a boat using only one oar? You go around and around in circles. If you paddle hard, you go fast. If you paddle slowly, you turn gently. But you still just go around in circles. It’s the same with trying to make study replace faith or trying to exercise faith but without study. We can often find ourselves just going around in circles. I think that the Holy Ghost cannot give us some answers until we are actively seeking knowledge.

Members in Ethiopia are already seeing blessings come from the country’s first meetinghouse. Located on the highway between the cities of Addis Ababa and Adama, the building has three floors and includes an underground parking garage.
But more important than the technical aspects of the meetinghouse is how it serves as a symbol of faith to the branch members, who have been meeting in residential property not far from the new building.
Debre Zeit Branch president Efrem Aemero Mekonen said, “Every time I go by the new building I am reminded of our covenants. Like when Captain Moroni raised the title of liberty, I am strengthened.”

Some goals stretch you more than others. And then there are other goals that hardly seem possible at first glance.
The youth planning committee from a stake in Texas, USA, knew they were shooting for the moon on this one.
“We weren’t really sure how we were going to do it,” says Kyle O., 17, one of the young men on the planning committee for their stake’s annual stake youth conference. Even the adult leaders let out a bit of a gasp after the youth proposed their plans.
So, what was the goal? Simply this: to send out 200 youth in pairs to bear their testimony about a gospel message with 100 different nonmember or less-active families. In the families’ own homes. During a single hour.
No point in setting goals that are boring, right?
The annual two-day conference is something the youth in this stake look forward to all year. It takes a ton of planning, praying, and courage to try things that have never been done before.
Each conference starts with the youth planning committee. “We really wanted the youth to have a positive experience in sharing the gospel,” says McKenna F., 17, one of the young women on the committee.
Specifically, they hoped to provide a positive experience for those young men and young women who didn’t think they had the confidence to share the gospel with others. “We wanted to give them a taste that it really is doable,” McKenna explains.
One thing the youth committee didn’t want was 100 doors slammed in their faces. They didn’t want to spend the hour trying to find families to visit.
So they had the adults throughout the stake ask friends and neighbors if they would allow the youth to come share a testimony about Christ. In the end, 115 families accepted the invitation.
As part of preparation, full-time missionaries and other leaders provided tips and advice to the youth during the conference so that when they talked to others, they could say what was in their hearts. Many of the youth were still nervous, but they headed out anyway.
The next hour would prove to be the favorite of the entire two-day conference, hands down.

Brethren, as you may remember, while speaking this morning I referred to our recent visit to the Caribbean Islands and the wonderful missionary work that has been accomplished in the two short years since we opened up those islands for the preaching of the gospel.
One incident occurred in Santo Domingo that I did not have time to tell you about. I think I should like to relate it to you now.
We held an evening general meeting in Santo Domingo, the capital city of the Dominican Republic. Nearly 1600 souls were present.
About an hour after the close of the general meeting, a busload of one hundred members from the Puerto Plata Branch arrived at the meeting place. They had been delayed because their bus broke down. Under ordinary circumstances, they could have made the trip in about four hours, but they finally arrived after 10:00 p.m. to find the hall dark and empty. Many wept because they were so disappointed. All were converts, some for a few months and others only weeks or days.
Sister Kimball and I had gone to bed after a long and tiring day. Upon learning of the plight of these faithful souls, my secretary knocked on the door of our hotel room and woke us up. He apologized for disturbing us but thought that I would want to know about the late arrivals and perhaps dictate a personal message to them. However, I felt that wouldn’t be good enough and not fair to those who had come so far under such trying circumstances—one hundred people jammed into one bus. I got out of bed and dressed and went downstairs to see the members who had made such an effort only to be disappointed because of engine trouble. The Saints were still weeping as we entered the hall, so I spent more than an hour visiting with them.
They then seemed relieved and satisfied and got back on the bus for the long ride home. They had to get back by morning to go to work and to school. Those good people seemed so appreciative of a brief visit together that I felt we just couldn’t let them down. As I returned to my bed, I did so with a sense of peace and contentment in my soul.