Gospel Story Finder

I would like to thank you all so much for all you do with this magazine. For a long time I could barely get myself to read the scriptures, but I could read the New Era. After a while the magazine became a sort of a warm-up for me, making me want to read the scriptures to gain even more from them. The stories have impacted my life so much, and I am forever indebted to the work put into this magazine.
Matt RoneyAtlanta, Georgia (via e-mail)

“I want to speak about the dead.”
Thousands of Latter-day Saints hushed as Lucy Mack Smith’s voice echoed through the large assembly hall on the first floor of the nearly completed Nauvoo temple.
It was the morning of October 8, 1845, the third and final day of the fall conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Knowing she would not have many more opportunities to speak to the Saints—especially now that they planned to leave Nauvoo for a new home far to the west—Lucy spoke with a power beyond her feeble seventy-year-old body.
“It was eighteen years ago last twenty-second of September that Joseph took the plates out of the earth,” she testified, “and it was eighteen years last Monday since Joseph Smith, the prophet of the Lord—”1
She paused, remembering Joseph, her martyred son. The Saints in the room already knew how an angel of the Lord had led him to a set of gold plates buried in a hill called Cumorah. They knew that Joseph had translated the plates by the gift and power of God and published the record as the Book of Mormon. Yet how many Saints in the assembly hall had truly known him?
Lucy could still remember when Joseph, then only twenty-one years old, had first told her that God had entrusted him with the plates. She had been anxious all morning, afraid he would return from the hill empty-handed, as he had the four previous years. But when he arrived, he had quickly calmed her nerves. “Do not be uneasy,” he had said. “All is right.” He had then handed her the interpreters the Lord had provided for the translation of the plates, wrapped in a handkerchief, as proof that he had succeeded in getting the record.
There had been only a handful of believers then, most of them members of the Smith family. Now more than eleven thousand Saints from North America and Europe lived in Nauvoo, Illinois, where the Church had gathered for the last six years. Some of them were new to the Church and had not had a chance to meet Joseph or his brother Hyrum before a mob shot and killed the two men in June 1844.2 That was why Lucy wanted to speak about the dead. She wanted to testify of Joseph’s prophetic call and her family’s role in the Restoration of the gospel before the Saints moved away.
Lucy knew the Saints would help her make this journey if she chose to go. Revelations had commanded the Saints to gather together in one place, and the Twelve were determined to carry out the Lord’s will. But Lucy was old and believed she would not live much longer. When she died, she wanted to be buried in Nauvoo near Joseph, Hyrum, and other family members who had passed on, including her husband, Joseph Smith Sr.
Furthermore, most of her living family members were staying in Nauvoo. Her only surviving son, William, had been a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, but he had rejected their leadership and refused to go west. Her three daughters—Sophronia, Katharine, and Lucy—were also staying behind. So too was her daughter-in-law Emma, the prophet’s widow.
As Lucy spoke to the congregation, she urged her listeners not to fret about the journey ahead. “Do not be discouraged and say that you can’t get wagons and things,” she said. Despite poverty and persecution, her own family had fulfilled the Lord’s commandment to publish the Book of Mormon. She encouraged them to listen to their leaders and treat each other well.
“As Brigham says, you must be all honest or you will not get there,” she said. “If you feel cross, you will have trouble.”
Lucy spoke more about her family, the terrible persecution they had suffered in Missouri and Illinois, and the trials that lay ahead for the Saints. “I pray that the Lord may bless the heads of the Church, Brother Brigham and all,” she said. “When I go to another world, I want to meet you all.”6

The first official Church proclamation was published in the January 15, 1841, issue of the Church periodical Times and Seasons in Nauvoo, Illinois, USA, by the First Presidency at that time—Joseph Smith, Sidney Rigdon, and Hyrum Smith.
The proclamation encouraged Saints in the British Isles to immigrate to Nauvoo and recommended how they should do so. It came at a significant time for the Church, as several members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were preaching the gospel in the British Isles. It was a proclamation given to a specific group of people for that specific time.
The second paragraph of the proclamation reads, “We have to congratulate the Saints on the progress of the great work of the ‘last days;’ for not only has it spread through the length and breadth of this vast continent; but on the continent of Europe, and on the Islands of the sea, it is spreading in a manner entirely unprecedented in the annals of time.”3
And then near the end of the proclamation came the call: “As watchmen to the house of Israel, as Shepherds over the flock which is now scattered over a vast extent of country, and the anxiety we feel for their prosperity and everlasting welfare, and for the carrying out the great and glorious purposes of our God, to which we have been called, we feel to urge its necessity, and say, let the Saints come here—This is the word of the Lord, and in accordance with the great work of the last days.”4

One year later a temple was dedicated in Hamilton, New Zealand. Shortly thereafter our family, with someone representing Ann, knelt around the altar in that sacred house of the Lord. There, by the authority of the priesthood, we were united as an eternal family in a simple and beautiful ordinance. This brought great peace and joy.

Or how about the time you stayed after school for a service project and talked with your friend who doesn’t go to any church? You told her that helping others makes us feel good, because by serving them we’re serving God.

It was hard for me to make friends. Then my cousin taught me to think of the word HELP. H is for “hobbies.” E is for “education.” L is for “what you like.” And P is for “plans.” I could talk to anyone about hobbies, school, what we liked to do, and what we were planning to do. That helped me so much that I grew up to be a journalist who interviews lots of people!
Linda Davies, video producer

When I went on a mission to the British Isles, that testimony quickened. Each morning, my companion and I read the Gospel of John together, commenting on each verse. It was a wonderful, illuminating experience. That marvelous testament opens with a declaration of the divinity of the Son of God. It states:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
“The same was in the beginning with God.
“All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. …
“And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth” (John 1:1–3, 14).

I thought of that declaration much then, and I have thought of it much since. It leaves no doubt concerning the individuality of the Father and the Son. To the Son the Father gave the great responsibility of creating the earth, “and without him was not any thing made that was made.”

High upon Corcovado Mountain stands the Cristo Redentor. This majestic statue depicting the Savior with His arms outstretched has become one of the most recognizable images of Brazil.
There are days when you can clearly see this monument towering over the city, but there are times when the clouds roll in, keeping the statue from view. In those moments, to see requires rising above. To see requires an uphill climb. How true this is with our Savior, Jesus Christ. To discover Him, to know who He is, requires each of us to rise above and take that uphill climb.

Paula wrote, “As a convert at 14, I made an effort to serve the widows, single mothers, and less-active sisters. Soon they were inviting me into their homes for family activities. As a result, on my first Sunday in Relief Society, I felt I had a roomful of mothers.”

I do Personal Progress with friends. We are starting a Personal Progress club. We sit and do Personal Progress. We all can relate to it and are able to share stories on it. It is so much fun. We take turns reading scriptures and set goals together. I learn so much and am able to spiritually grow. I also am so excited about the ribbons.
Madison R., 14, California, USA

Willard shook his head and got to his feet. “You want to see a really stupid one? Look at mine!” He aimed his arm as if he was going to throw a javelin, then ran a couple of steps and threw his ball as hard as he could into the air.
Brant squinted in the afternoon sun. “It’s going over the fence! No! Right onto Mr. Lawson’s shed!” He covered his ears as the ball thudded on the roof and rolled off the other side.
The crash of the ball against the roof brought Brant to his feet and sent Willard ducking behind a bush. Mr. Lawson’s scowling face immediately appeared at his back screen door. Brant felt like hiding, too, but his dad always told him to face what was coming.
“What broke?” Mr. Lawson shouted angrily.
From his shelter, Willard nudged Brant forward. “Nothing, Mr. Lawson,” Brant replied. “Willard’s—” Willard socked Brant’s shoulder—“I mean, our ball bounced off your shed and landed on your property.”
Mr. Lawson’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you want to get it.”
Brant shrugged. “It would only take a minute, if it’s OK.”
“What if I said no? You kids track through my yard and garden without any regard to the time and work that went into it.” Mr. Lawson opened the screen door and came outside, waving his arms. “Get your ball, but stay off my plants—especially my everbearing strawberries! I’ll be watching.”
Brant shoved his report card back into his pocket and put his books on the curb. He felt as if he was going into a mine field. He glanced at Willard, then entered the yard through the gate. Carefully he moved along the neatly weeded stone walkway and past the porch from which Mr. Lawson glared. Brant could almost feel his neighbor’s angry breath as he hurried around the corner of the shed and down the three timbered steps into the garden.
Bright flowers bobbed beneath the shed windows and along the walkway where the plump, juicy strawberries grew. Brant located the tattered ball among the lush green leaves. Sitting on his heels, he leaned forward, carefully maneuvered among the strawberry leaves, and grasped the ball. The sweet smell of the delicious fruit made his mouth water, but he didn’t take any.
He stood and returned just as carefully along the walkway. Mr. Lawson was standing by the timbered steps, still watching him like a hawk. “Thank you,” Brant muttered.
“Next time watch where you throw that thing!” Mr. Lawson thundered.
Back on the road, Brant tossed Willard the ball, and Willard handed him his books. “I always get the dirty work,” Brant grumbled as they continued to their homes.
“You handle stuff better.”

While at the hospital where they took my daughter Natalie (who had already passed), I was in a state of shock. I was completely numb, physically and mentally. Things were happening around me that I could see but not feel: police asking questions, friends crying, medical staff informing. It’s all a blur yet perfectly clear.
My former bishop and his wife were there. A colleague of mine had called them. My daughter, Natalie, and I had moved from their ward only a few months prior. My bishop and his wife were beloved friends of ours.
The bishop’s wife, also named Natalie, said I would be staying with them. The next thing I knew, I was in their vehicle riding back to my old neighborhood. I had no comprehension of time passing, yet I was aware it was dawn of the next day when I received a priesthood blessing from the bishop and a friend.
I was kept in the loop with all of the funeral arrangements, yet I was unaware of all the details. I would get dressed when I was told to get dressed. I would get in the car when I was told we had somewhere to go. I was a robot following simple commands. That was all I was capable of doing. Surprisingly, I had not yet shed a tear.

Before the final meeting of the First Presidency and the Twelve last year, President Hinckley, sensing the forthcoming changes about to occur, proposed that we come to the temple fasting and conclude our year, the century, and a millennium with a fast and testimony meeting. So not to detract from the spirit of testimony, he requested that we dispense with any business items at this special meeting and save them for the new year.
The meeting was a spiritual feast filled with the witness and testimony of our Lord and Savior. After partaking of the sacrament, each member of the Twelve stood and bore his witness to the mission of Jesus the Christ, the Savior of the world. The concluding three testimonies were given by members of the First Presidency, the final witness being given by President Hinckley. It was a sobering yet joyous occasion as we strengthened each other with strong testimonies.
President Hinckley added to his powerful, emotional witness a list of concerns for the future. One of his concerns particularly stuck in my mind. His worry was that with the great growth of the Church throughout the world, it would become increasingly difficult for the Apostles to reach all the members of the Church and personally admonish them to live the gospel. Thus, the future would bring greater reliance on technology to carry the gospel message to the worldwide Church.

They don’t get chased by dogs or have companions. They don’t write letters home on preparation days because they still live at home, in Pleasant Grove, Utah. But the Willeys—Anthony, 18, Elizabeth, 16, and Kristina, 14—are still missionaries, music missionaries, actually. They were set apart in the Salt Lake Tabernacle.
“When I was set apart,” Elizabeth says grinning, “I was told, ‘Now you’re the youngest sister missionary.’ It made me feel special.” And she enjoyed being the youngest sister missionary until a year or so later when her little sister Kristina was set apart and took over as the youngest.

Nearly one year after earthquakes and an ensuing tsunami devastated Japan, Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elder Donald L. Hallstrom of the Presidency of the Seventy visited the country and offered a message of hope and love.
For 12 days in February, Elder Oaks and Elder Hallstrom, accompanied by their wives, Kristen Oaks and Diane Hallstrom, traveled through the Asia North Area, stopping at Kumamoto, Nagasaki, Sendai, and Tokyo, as well as many coastal cities in the Tohoku area.
In a Church News article, Elder Oaks explained one purpose of the trip: “We sought to give comfort following the terrible disaster and tsunami that occurred just about a year ago and also to give the teaching and testimony we always give when meeting with missionaries and members of the Church.”
Elder Oaks and other Church leaders met with Japanese Latter-day Saints, missionaries, and others and encouraged them to “look for the way that the Lord will consecrate your affliction for your gain.”

And so, as resurrection and death and life are important to achieving perfection, so also is birth. And with the thought, my mind comes back again to Bethlehem, the Bethlehem of today. My wife and our group move about with the surging crowds, we are jostled and pushed. We are nearly drowned in the ocean of innumerable bodies and faces. It is hard to concentrate upon the sacred reason for our coming. There is little on the hill which can stir our reverence or satisfy our longing to be alone with our thoughts.
We have our taxi take us to the hill overlooking the shepherds’ field. Below us in the little valley is the field of Boaz and Ruth. Before us is the undulating area where shepherds once watched their sheep. On the brow of the hill is a cave opening out over the little valley. There, tradition says, the shepherds slept and watched on that eventful night. An open cave could protect them from the night’s coolness, yet still they could watch their flocks. There, gazing into the valley, the only place near Bethlehem where we could find privacy, we stood in the dark, looking out into the starry sky as did the shepherds.
Did not the angels sing that night? We, too, seemed to hear faint music, not loud, but in symphonic harmony it deeply penetrated our hearts. We seemed to hear singing in unison, the unforgettable melody, the cry of the ages: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men” (Luke 2:14).
As the strains of the heavenly words merged with our hearts, we four sang. After singing “Far, far away on Judea’s plains, shepherds of old hear the joyous strains,” (Hymns No. 33) we stood close together in the starlighted night with our wraps pulled tightly about us—physically close, mentally close, spiritually close, emotionally close; and we communed. No lights but the twinkling lanterns in the heavens, no sound but the whispering of our subdued voices. Our Father seemed to be very near. His Son seemed close. We prayed. More in unison than a single voice, our four hearts poured out love and gratitude that rose to mingle with the prayers of all mankind that night.
We prayed our gratitude. We prayed our love. Like the raising of the flood gate releasing the long confined pent up waters behind a dam, voices almost inaudible, mellowed with reverence, softened by the intangible forces of the heavenly world, we sincerely gave a prayer of thanksgiving: grateful, Father, that we know so positively that thou dost live; that we know the babe born here was in reality thy Son; grateful that thy Church program is real, workable and exalting. We told him we knew him, we loved him, we would follow him. We repledged to his cause our lives, our all.

Katya, a dear sister in Ukraine, has a deep love for the temple. Before the temple in Kyiv was built, she and others in her branch sacrificed to travel 36 hours on a bus to attend the temple once a year in Germany. These devoted Saints prayed, studied scriptures, sang hymns, and discussed the gospel as they traveled. Katya told me, “When we finally arrived at the temple, we were prepared to receive what the Lord had to give us.”

Kayleb, Dustin, Dylan, Kyra, and Kaylee B., ages 7, 11, 9, 5, and 13, traveled from Idaho, USA, to watch general conference at the Conference Center together. Dustin really liked the story Elder Holland told about Stephanie because “she was strong and faithful and a good example for all of us.” Kaylee liked when Elder Nielsen taught us to trust others like you trust yourself, because we’re all on the same team.

When I was president of the Southern States Mission, I remember going to a conference down in west Florida. It seemed to me as if we traveled a hundred miles and never saw a house, and when we arrived at one of those little chapels, there it was filled with 250 people, and I said, “If you didn’t come out of the holes in the rocks, I don’t know where you came from. The Lord may know, but I don’t!” Well, that was literal, and we see that being fulfilled right before our very eyes.

“As I agonized over my inadequacies this week, I received a distinct impression which both chastened and comforted me: to focus not on what I can’t do but rather on what I can do. I can testify of the plain and precious truths of the gospel.

“These are the words which I have shared hundreds of times with both those who belong to the Church and many who are not members: ‘God is our [loving] Heavenly Father. We are His children. … He weeps with us when we suffer and rejoices when we do what is right. He wants to communicate with us, and we can communicate with Him through sincere prayer. … Heavenly Father has provided us, His children, with a way to return to live in His presence. … Central to our [Heavenly] Father’s plan is Jesus Christ’s Atonement’ (Preach My Gospel: A Guide to Missionary Service [2004], 31–32).

“Heavenly Father sent His Son to the earth to atone for the sins of all mankind.”