Gospel Story Finder

When I was a girl, on summer mornings the first sound I heard through my open window as I was waking was the song of a meadowlark. I liked the call of the killdeer, the chirp of the chickadee, and the screech of the magpie. But the song of the meadowlark was especially beautiful to me, and I trained my ear to hear it amid other sounds.

How often do we, as modern-day pioneers, honor the sacrifice of the pioneers of the early days? Brother David George, the ward mission leader, announced that there will be a pioneer activity for all ward members on July 24, 2018. Every member of the ward was really excited and eagerly waited for the big day to arrive.
Finally, the day arrived!
Just like the early-day pioneers who travelled across the plains and deserts to reach their destination, the volunteers of the Indiranagar Ward put great effort in decorating the venue. They made an arch out of bamboo with many colorful balloons tied onto it. The handcrafts made by the volunteers were displayed at the entrance. The ward looked so beautiful, and it was decorated very creatively. A collage of early-day pioneers was made and displayed as a source of information for the members. It was a perfect moment to cherish beyond what any words could describe.
On July 24th at 5:30 p.m., all members were seated in the sacrament hall, and they all looked very elegant in their costumes and bonnets, which resembled the clothes worn during the 19th century. This gesture reflected their determination to follow the footsteps of the early pioneers. It demonstrated the pioneering values of ingenuity and commitment and a vision for living their lives to benefit the present and future generations.
The meeting was started with an opening prayer and a hymn. Later on, two ward members, who had dressed like Joseph Smith and Emma Smith, volunteered to showcase their attire, and the crowd cheered for them. One of the senior members was invited to share the testimony of the Church and his personal experience as a follower of Jesus Christ. After this, one of the members concluded the meeting with a closing prayer.
After a few announcements, coupons were distributed to members in every family in order to participate in the games. A handcart, buffalo chips, a basket, a candle, and the golden plates were displayed for the members. Members also had the opportunity to see the covered wagon, which was the mode of transportation during the days of the early pioneers. Two ward missionaries volunteered to describe life during the period, and everyone witnessed the history and spiritual teachings of the gospel on the golden plates.
Two activities were organized for the members to understand the hardships suffered by the pioneers for the Lord’s work. The activities planned were games, namely a stick-pull activity and walking on two wooden boards through the mud. These games showed how each one’s faith could conquer their fear. It helped the members to marvel at the determination of the early-day pioneers who were undeterred by their blistered feet and hands, the sore muscles, or the dust and grit. Such activities help members to realize the painstaking effort put in by the pioneers.
Another activity organized was the food and fun time with family. In addition to this, carnival games were also organized. Members were overjoyed to win prizes by utilizing their talents and to achieve small victories by putting in their efforts, and others cheered for the participants.
It was a wonderful evening, and all the members who had volunteered to cook for the activity presented their dishes. It showed how a successful group effort could work wonders. Every member seemed to have enjoyed the delicious food and hospitality of those who served the food. Everyone enjoyed the activities and the meeting, which had transformed into a unified space by creating an atmosphere of trust. Members were delighted to hear from others about pioneers’ ways of life and their lifetime.
What an amazing evening it was! It made every member realize that being a pioneer is about paving the way for others and also building a lasting heritage of faithfulness for future generations by claiming the legacies of today’s modern-day Church pioneers.

I recall as a child hearing my father say, just prior to administering some well-deserved corporal punishment to one of his children, namely me, “If you won’t hear, then you’ll have to feel.”

If we would all listen more, it would not be necessary to have to feel so often in that sense.

A year ago, we went to look at some gravestones for my ancestors. We looked at the dates and saw that one of my ancestors did not die as a baby like we had thought. She died when she was 11, the same age as me. I am preparing to go to the temple to get baptized for her! I can’t wait.
Mary T., age 11, Texas, USA

When I was baptized, I heard a lot about family history, but I didn’t know how to do it or if I could. I decided to pray about it, and I felt that I should start working on it right away. I felt that my ancestors were anxious for me to begin and that they would help me find the information necessary to do the ordinances.
I began by taking a family history course, and a short time later I was called to be a family history consultant. I was nervous because I didn’t know much about it, but I accepted the calling.
One day I visited my grandmother’s sister, who had documents about my great-grandmother. She didn’t want to share a lot of information because they had a tradition of not speaking about deceased relatives. She said the next day was the anniversary of my great-grandmother’s death, and she was going to burn the documents. I asked if I could get some information from them first, and she let me. I knew then that Heavenly Father would help me continue my research.
As I served in the family history center near the temple, I continued to discover more about my family. I learned that two of my great-grandmother’s grandparents were Italian immigrants who had a farm near São Paulo, Brazil. My family had lost contact with the relatives on the farm, but I found a cousin who was writing a book about the genealogy of our family. He gave me the book, which had taken him nine years to write. He said he didn’t know why he should write it but felt it would help someone in the future. I know that it was the spirit of Elijah inspiring him.
My experiences taught me that we are doing a sacred work. Our ancestors are waiting for our help and are at our side to help us.
Gabriel D., Brazil

Karina also loves to play marbles, and she is very good at it. She frequently beats other children in a game—and she even beats some of the missionaries who play with her. She controls a marble with her foot and releases it from her toes with a kick. She can propel her marble with her foot more accurately than many others can with their hands.

Another source of spiritual enhancement of these already spiritual people is the seminary program that has been set up in every branch on the island. Most of the teachers are branch members who are called to teach the youth in an early morning class. In addition to teaching, they pick up their five or six students and drive them to the church for class and afterward to school. “I yearned to learn the scriptures,” says Sister Muñoz of Arecibo, “and I have as a result of teaching seminary.” With more than 50 seminary teachers in Puerto Rico, the seminary program has a strong influence on families as well as on the youth.

Seminary students from Rock Springs, Wyoming, took on the challenge of reading the Book of Mormon during nine days of their spring break. Each morning, the group met at the seminary building to read. They took turns reading aloud 53 pages each day. From this intense experience with the scriptures, many said that their testimonies have grown.

When I was sixteen years old, I was a printing apprentice. A fellow apprentice was totally engrossed in motorcycles. In those days, we rode British motorcycles, and he had a very powerful one.
One sunny summer day, he said to me, “Would you like to come for a ride on my motorcycle?” That seemed to be a good idea. In those days we didn’t wear any protective clothing; and thus, very lightly clad, I became the passenger on his motorcycle. He weaved through the streets of the city and then came to a long, straight road. He leaned back and said to me, “Have you ever traveled at 160 kilometers an hour?”
I said, “No.”
He said, “Well, you’re going to.”
I said, “We don’t have to.”
He began to rev the engine, and the motorcycle roared forward. The skin on my face pulled tight, and my clothing whipped in the wind as we went past 150 to 160 kilometers an hour. I had accepted an invitation that put someone else in control of my safety. In fact, it put me in a dangerous situation. I determined that day that never again would I let somebody else control my life.

“Hi, my name is Robbie. I’m a senior in high school. Last night I had the inspiration that I need to write in a journal, so that’s what I’ll do. I kinda have already, but I’m hit-and-miss on random pieces of paper.”
This was the first official entry in Robbie S.’s journal. “It just kind of started like that,” Robbie says, “and then it started to transform, and I started to figure out why I needed to keep a journal.”
Robbie explains that he used to think keeping a journal was just for posterity, but then as he read in the scriptures each day and actually wrote down the impressions and ideas that came to him as he read, an important discovery came to him: “When I started to read my scriptures and write in my journal at the same time, I figured out that’s one way you receive revelation.”
Since ninth grade, Robbie had been consistently reading from the scriptures, but it was after turning to the “Pray and Study the Scriptures” section in Fulfilling My Duty to God: For Aaronic Priesthood Holders that he decided to transform his scripture reading into scripture study. He set a goal to read from the Book of Mormon every day and write in a journal about what he had read and about his day. Robbie liked how he could set his own goals in Duty to God. He says it was more personal and he felt like he was doing more than just checking off boxes to earn an award. “I really like that Duty to God is something you do your whole life,” he adds.
“As I studied the scriptures and wrote things in my journal afterward, I would look down at what I had written and say, ‘That is not me who wrote that.’ It was personal inspiration given directly to me from God. I have received answers to prayers and counsel for my life on things that I need to do better. I had no idea revelation worked that way.”

When I was 19 years old, one of my best friends was married. The wedding was wonderful, she looked beautiful, the groom was handsome, and they were happy. I, on the other hand, was a little distraught. I was caught off guard by what she was doing. She was altering my vision for her—and for me. I definitely wanted to get married, just not yet. I thought we were both so young, and here she was marrying not only before graduating from college, but before she had the chance to travel much or engage in intellectually stimulating career opportunities. I was up the night prior to her wedding, anxious about what would happen in her future, while she was sound asleep, rightly confident in her decision.
As I look back on my reaction, I have to smile. What was I thinking? I look at her life now: she has two lovely children and a loving home. A few months after her wedding it became clear to me that she had made the right decision, and it is even clearer now. I recognize that she was prayerful and thoughtful and trusted in God’s promptings to her.

The flood was bad. It washed away houses. Now some people didn’t have homes.
Cameron wanted to help. But how?
On Sunday, the Primary president said, “We’re collecting shoes for families who were in the flood.”
That night, Cameron talked to Mom and Dad. “Can we look for shoes for home evening?”
“Great idea!” Mom said.
“We’ll call it the Great Family Shoe Hunt,” Dad said.
At home evening, Dad said a prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, we have been given so much. Help us to share.”
Then the hunt began. Cameron ran to his room. His brother and sister ran to look for shoes too. Cameron looked in his closet. He found a pair of church shoes. Then he found a pair of tennis shoes. The shoes didn’t fit anymore. But they were still good shoes.
Everyone came back to the living room. They had found five pairs of shoes to share!
“Now let’s fix them up,” Mom said.
They rubbed away spots. They polished. They put in new laces.
The shoes looked almost new!
On Sunday, Cameron’s family took the shoes to Primary.
“Thank you!” the Primary president said. “When we help others, we are following Jesus.”
She gave each child a small paper footprint. The footprint said “Following Jesus.”
Cameron smiled. He liked following Jesus.

Louisa Lula Greene Richards was 23 years old when she was called to be the editor of the Women’s Exponent, a Church paper established in 1872. It served as a medium for LDS women to righteously represent themselves against unfriendly comments and gross misrepresentations and defend the principles and doctrines of their faith. This timid, retiring young woman lacked confidence in her capabilities, but she possessed implicit faith in her Heavenly Father’s power and goodness. So prayerfully and with reluctance she consented to accept the call from the prophet and became one of the first woman journalists in Utah.

I joined the Church when I was 19, the second of three sons and the only Latter-day Saint in my family. Shortly after being baptized, I began to feel the desire to serve a mission. After a year, the Spirit told me I should go. I talked with my mother, who felt it was not right that I go. I deferred for another year, but the desire to serve a mission never left me. During that year, I studied the scriptures, saved my money, prepared my papers, had all the medical exams, and—after everything else was completed—I waited on the Lord. Before long, I received a call to serve in the Brazil Campinas Mission.
My parents were still opposed. I fasted and prayed openly, telling Heavenly Father about all my fears. I asked Him to touch the heart of my earthly father. He did. To my surprise, my father attended the farewell party that my friends had prepared for me on the Saturday prior to my departure. And that Monday, my dad took me to the airport.
During my mission, I felt the love of God as I preached the gospel. My mom did not stop being a mother, and when I returned home, she was the first person to hug me.
I learned that serving a mission is much more than a duty; it is a privilege and a marvelous time of growth and learning.
Cleison Wellington Amorim Brito, Paraíba, Brazil

The faithful widowed mother who raised us had no confusion about the eternal nature of the family. She always honored the position of our deceased father. She made him a presence in our home. She spoke of the eternal duration of their temple marriage. She often reminded us of what our father would like us to do so we could realize the Savior’s promise that we could be a family forever.
I recall an experience that shows the effect of her teachings. Just before Christmas one year, our bishop asked me, as a deacon, to help him deliver Christmas baskets to the widows of the ward. I carried a basket to each door with his greetings. When he drove me home, there was one basket remaining. He handed it to me and said it was for my mother. As he drove away, I stood in the falling snow wondering why there was a basket for my mother. She never referred to herself as a widow, and it had never occurred to me that she was. To a 12-year-old boy, she wasn’t a widow. She had a husband, and we had a father. He was just away for a while.

When President Gordon B. Hinckley was small, he became severely ill with whooping cough. The doctor told his mother he needed good clean air to breathe. The family moved to a farm during the summer months. Young Gordon worked hard. He learned that we can harvest food only after planting and caring for it. He learned that Heavenly Father blesses us, but He expects us to do the work first.

One warm evening during the past summer months Sister Ashton and I enjoyed a professional baseball game. During the early part of the competition our attention was diverted from the action by a late arriver. As he walked by, he spotted me and asked, “Who’s losing?” I responded with, “Neither one.” Following my answer, I noticed that he glanced at the right-field scoreboard, saw the game wasn’t tied, and walked on, undoubtedly wondering about me.
Seconds after he made his way to a distant seat, Sister Ashton said, “He doesn’t know you very well, does he?” “What makes you say that?” I replied. She responded with, “If he did, he would know you don’t believe anyone is losing. Some are ahead and some are behind, but no one is losing. Isn’t that right?” I smiled in approval with a warm feeling inside.

Janet Leeds of the Burnley Ward, Chorley Stake said, “The project came together so quickly there was no time to think about whether to get involved or not or wonder if it was possible; everyone just pulled together and got on with it! So much love was shared, and hard work done, by so many volunteers that went into the project. It felt so important to make sure each child received their lunch packs every day—so much so that I went back to one house three times on the first day and finally pushed it through the cat flap so that they wouldn’t miss it! So proud of everyone who made it all possible.”

I loved listening to President Nelson and am excited for the Lord’s youth battalion to gather Israel. This week, I gave more of my time to the Lord. I went to the temple a couple of times and learned how to index and find family names!
Andrew B., Utah, USA

On a vacation, I was traveling by ship down the Volga River in Russia, far from any LDS chapel. That Sunday I had planned to read the Book of Mormon alone in my cabin.
My plans changed when I found out the ship was leased for summer tours to a Latter-day Saint family. With permission from their Church leaders, they had scheduled a worship service for LDS passengers, including several Russian Latter-day Saints traveling on the ship. I was asked to bless the sacrament. I wondered if I would bless the sacrament alone and if I would be the only teenager there. I hoped not.
Later that morning when I entered the music salon where the meeting would be held, my anxious heart quieted as I saw other young men in ties and young women in dresses. I looked around for something resembling a sacrament table. To my right, I noticed that a white tablecloth from the dining hall had been spread over the piano bench. The bread and water trays sat on the white linen. The brother who had asked me to bless the sacrament introduced me to a young man.
“This is Sergei,” he said. “He will bless with you.”
Sergei, from Moscow, had just completed his service in the militia. He had met two missionaries in the subway. That eventually led to his baptism.
“Dobray Dien!” I said, practicing what little Russian I had learned.
“Dobray Dien,” he responded with a chuckle.
“Minyah Savoot, William,” I said, introducing myself.
“Minyah Savoot, Sergei.”
“Do you speak English?” I asked.
“A little.”
He pulled out a sheet of paper—tattered from use—and unfolded it. It contained LDS religious terms with their definitions. He pointed to the word sacrament as if to communicate our role in the worship service. I nodded. He next pointed to the word bread and then to himself.
“Me?” he asked.
Then he pointed to the word water and then pointed to me, I understood. He would bless the bread. I would bless the water.
“Da,” I said in Russian, agreeing with his plan.
The music began, and a young man, Vladimir, led the congregation in “Come, Come, Ye Saints.” The curtains of the room had been drawn aside, and through the windows we saw a panoramic view of Russia’s countryside.
Sergei’s copy of the Book of Mormon was well used. He thumbed through its pages for the sacrament prayer.
We stood and broke the homemade Russian sourdough bread. I could hear the congregation singing “I Stand All Amazed,” half singing in Russian and the other half in English. No one had hymnbooks, so we sang from memory. I was impressed to hear the combination of Russian and English as if our voices were creating a new language.
When the hymn ended, I knelt with Sergei. As we knelt on the floor, I could feel a slight rocking of the ship. The congregation bowed their heads. Sergei began saying the prayer in Russian.
I felt the Spirit of God enter my heart and burn through my chest. Here we were, Sergei and I, on a ship far from our homes and families, two people from different continents and speaking different languages—but feeling the same Spirit. I understood the words he spoke, clearly and peacefully. I felt solemnity fill my mind.
After wiping a few tears from my eyes, I stood with Sergei. We passed the bread trays to three young priesthood holders, who then passed the bread to the congregation.
A few minutes later, I blessed the water in English, saying the prayer with more conviction than ever before. I felt as if I were actually speaking to the Lord. My heart swelled with joy as I said amen and stood to serve the water trays.
That day, Sergei and I had come together to do the Lord’s work. We had blessed the emblems Christ instituted just before his death and sacrifice. Sergei had spoken Russian. I had spoken English. But for all of us who were present, the language spoken was the Spirit.