Gospel Story Finder

When Austin Johnson asked his grandfather to help him complete the Genealogy merit badge requirements, he didn’t realize how much he’d enjoy researching his family tree. “I found a bunch of cool ties in my ancestors, like Benjamin F. Johnson, who was one of the best friends of the Prophet Joseph Smith. It makes me feel grateful that they decided to go through what wasn’t necessarily easy for them, because it changed how I live.”

Even though 14-year-old Becki Wilson of Easingwold, West Yorkshire, Northern England, sang solos in eight Church events during one season, no one ever got tired of the Mia Maid’s remarkable voice. They’re happy she’s using her talents to inspire others.
Becki recently passed the Grade V singing exam and Grade IV flute with distinction. She is a member of her school junior and concert bands, and performed in her school production of Oliver.
Her next goal is to audition for Britain’s National Youth Choir. If she makes it, she will be able to inspire people all over the world with her talents.

Thomas B. Marsh, the first President of the Quorum of the Twelve, sided with his wife in an argument over a little cream. He would not let the matter drop and carried it to the highest councils of the Church. He lost his place and never fully regained it. He dropped the ball at a crucial time and has been remembered ever since for what he did (in George A. Smith, Journal of Discourses, 3:283–84).

Meghan B., age 18, Ontario, Canada
My mom’s mother died when my mom was 17. The family fasted and prayed for her for several weeks before she died. She also was given a priesthood blessing. The main thing that gave my mom peace was knowing that she could see her mother again in the next life. My mom’s goal is to live her life so she will be worthy of that blessing. I am sad that I will never be able to meet her in this lifetime, but I look forward to the time when we will finally meet.

Everyone has to be converted. Everyone at some point in life has to know for themselves that Jesus is the Savior. At youth conference, the testimony was so strong that I began to feel it too. I prayed the night we got home, and the next day at testimony meeting, for the first time since I was a child, I bore my testimony. I felt for myself that Jesus is the Savior.
Rachel Yorke, 16Hayward, California

A few years ago I had an interesting view of the tallest spire in Reykjavik, Iceland, as we were landing at the airport. We were told that this tall building was a church, and after greeting our Saints and inspecting our church building which I was to dedicate, I was curious to visit this other building we had seen from the air with the tall, stately spire. It was very impressive from a distance. However, as we approached the building we discovered that the front door was made of plywood and padlocked. A sign directed us to the back door. This large church building with such an impressive front and its high steeple, we discovered, was only a shell of a building. Though under construction for forty years, the weather-beaten framework was still in place—a reminder of ambitious plans on a grand scale but lacking the faith and foresight for its completion.

Later, as we met in our smaller but adequate building in Reykjavik, it was comforting to know that it was not just a shell, but had the vitalizing power and Spirit of God in that little building.

Kamla Persand was from the Mauritius island, attending medical school in Bordeaux, France, when we met her in February of 1991. We had prayed as a family to be able to share the gospel with someone who was seeking the truth, and we taught her in our home. I was privileged to perform her baptism, but we were not the most significant influences in Kamla joining the Church. Friends, missionaries, and even family members had been “witnesses of God” in her home country, and one day in France, when the time was right for Kamla, she made the decision to be baptized. Now, 25 years later, the blessings of that decision are all around her, and her son is a missionary in Madagascar.

Another lesson I learned on the football field was at the bottom of a pile of 10 other players. It was the Rocky Mountain Conference championship game, and the play called for me to run the ball up the middle to score the go-ahead touchdown. I took the handoff and plunged into the line. I knew I was close to the goal line, but I didn’t know how close. Although I was pinned at the bottom of the pile, I reached my fingers forward a couple of inches and I could feel it. The goal line was two inches away.
At that moment I was tempted to push the ball forward. I could have done it. And when the refs finally pulled the players off the pile, I would have been a hero. No one would have ever known.
I had dreamed of this moment from the time I was a boy. And it was right there within my reach. But then I remembered the words of my mother. “Joseph,” she had often said to me, “do what is right, no matter the consequence. Do what is right and things will turn out OK.”
I wanted so desperately to score that touchdown. But more than being a hero in the eyes of my friends, I wanted to be a hero in the eyes of my mother. And so I left the ball where it was—two inches from the goal line.
I didn’t know it at the time, but this was a defining experience. Had I moved the ball, I could have been a champion for a moment, but the reward of temporary glory would have carried with it too steep and too lasting a price. It would have engraved upon my conscience a scar that would have stayed with me the remainder of my life. I knew I must do what is right.

It is important, therefore, that the girls in the Church have opportunity for and motivation to move forward in programs designed to improve their skills, to enhance their estimation of their own self-worth, and to broaden their knowledge of the gospel with consequent increase of faith. The generations are largely cast by the mothers who produce them. The story is told that Brigham Young was once asked what he would do if he had to choose between providing education for his sons or daughters. He replied that he would educate his daughters because they would become the mothers of his grandchildren.

Let me make one more point about your education. I have a friend who had a hard time choosing a career. In college he majored in accounting and worked part-time in an accounting firm. By the time he graduated he had decided he didn’t really want to be an accountant, so he applied to law school. He attended law school for just one week, found he didn’t like law, and withdrew. Then he enrolled in a master’s program in educational psychology. He lasted a full quarter in that program before dropping out. Next he entered a master’s program in marketing and completed that degree but could see no place for himself in the job arena of marketing.

By that time he had a military obligation and spent four years in the air force. As he completed that assignment he applied to the doctoral program at the Harvard Business School and was accepted. In his first year there he discovered organizational behavior and finally found a field that he enjoyed. Since then he has become an outstanding researcher and teacher in the field. When people hear that story they comment on all of the false starts. But the important thing is that no matter what programs he was involved in, he worked hard and received excellent grades. As a result, his academic record qualified him for admittance to Harvard. The moral: Even if you don’t know where you’re going, do your best work in order to keep your options open.

I rushed to the time clock, found my card, and quickly punched it in. The time, 4:01, blared out at me in red. One minute late! After all that hurrying, I was still late. I had a class at the university that ended at 3:30, and it was always a hectic rush to make it to work on time. I worked as an evening receptionist at one of the larger convalescent centers for the elderly in Salt Lake City, Utah.
As I walked to my desk, I heard a voice singing “There’s Sunshine in My Soul Today.” The voice was bellowing the song out at the top of its lungs. Curious, I followed the sound of the voice. At the end of one of the corridors, I found a husky old man sitting up in his bed. The cords on his neck stood out with the strain of singing.
“Hello!” he called out to me cheerfully. He didn’t seem surprised to see me standing there. He just grinned brightly at me. The windows were wide open. The air and sunshine poured in. It seemed to be one of the most cheerful rooms that I had ever been in, yet it was similar to all of the other rooms in the building.
“I heard you singing,” I remarked to him.
“Good!” He nodded his head courteously at me. “I sing because it makes me happy!”
As duties awaited me at my desk, I said good-bye to him. As I went down the hall, I heard him singing “High on the Mountain Top” as if he were yodeling it from the hilltops. For the rest of the evening I found myself humming, “High on the mountain top …”
The next day I managed to arrive a few minutes early. Again I heard the cheerful voice singing. Irresistibly pulled, I went down to his room.
“Well, hello, young lady!” His eyes and toothless smile welcomed me as if I were a queen.
I greeted him and asked if I could listen to him sing.
“Sure!” He invited me to sit down on the only chair in the room. He sang through all the verses of “How Firm a Foundation.” His off-key voice charmed me.
I asked him if he knew “The World Has Need of Willing Men.” This was a favorite song of mine. I had taught it to my youngest brother when he was just four.
Not only did he sing it for me, but he sang it with such force that I couldn’t help but join him and sing too. I caught his enthusiasm and sang much louder than I normally would. A nurse passed by and glanced at us curiously.
As I left, I asked him when he had taken time to memorize all of the hymns.
“Oh, that’s easy!” He clapped his hands together. “I memorized them as I sang them in church. Once I knew them, I never opened the hymn book again!”
I made an inward resolve to do the same.
It became regular routine to stop in at his room before I went down to my desk. He always greeted me brightly. I found myself humming Church hymns between my classes at the university.
Christmastime came and my classes were over for three weeks. As I had made arrangements with someone to take my place at work during that time, I was free to go home and visit my family in Ephraim, Utah.
Before I left, however, I stopped in to see the old man. We sang through countless Christmas carols together. I was more in the Christmas spirit than I had ever been before. I left him singing a rousing version of “Silent Night.”
As I walked back down the corridor, I passed a nurse who frowned at me. I didn’t recall seeing her before. I puzzled about it for a minute and then shrugged it off. I was too happy to let a frown bother me. Later, I found out that she had just recently been hired as the head nurse.
Christmas vacation, as always, flew by too fast for me. Soon it was time for me to reluctantly go back to my studies. I said good-bye to my parents and houseful of brothers and sisters.
When I stepped through the doors at the convalescent center to go back to work, I expected to hear a cheerful voice booming out some song down the hall. As I punched in my time card at the time clock, I cocked my ear for his voice. All I could hear was the confusion of a few televisions tuned to different stations and the conversation of a few patients who were sitting near me in the hallway.
“He’s probably asleep,” I said to myself. But, to reassure myself, I walked down to his room.
I peeked in the door, expecting to see him curled up in bed sound asleep. However, he was sitting up with his back supported by a few pillows. The windows were half shut and the curtains pulled. He sat listlessly in the half gloom.
Hearing my step, he slowly turned his head and saw me. He grinned the ghost of a smile.
I was shocked. His wrinkled skin hung in loose pouches around his face as if he had lost a great amount of weight.
“I … I thought you’d be singing,” I stammered out.
He shook his head and tears slid down his cheeks. “Can’t sing anymore. Nurse said it bothered too many people.” He looked at me earnestly. “I don’t want to bother anyone. Singing just made me happy.” There was a long pause as he thought. “No, I don’t want to bother anyone,” he repeated.
I blinked back tears as I walked over and took his hand. “Why don’t we sing together right now?”
He looked at me anxiously, “Oh no, please don’t. I don’t think she would like it.”
“Well, then,” I said softly, “I’ll sing. I’ll sing so quietly that no one will hear me but you.”
I softly sang the first song that came to me. I sang all the verses of “I Am a Child of God” for him. His wrinkled lips mouthed most of the words with me.
After singing, I talked softly with him for a while and rubbed his brow. As I needed to get to my desk, I told him I would be back tomorrow. He called me when I had reached the door. I turned to look at him questioningly. His leathery cheeks wrinkled deeply as he gave me a smile. His eyes had a hint of their old sparkle.
As soon as I got out into the hall, I was fighting mad. I couldn’t wait to find the nurse who had done this. Angry words were close to the surface of my thoughts.
I didn’t have to search long. The new head nurse was waiting for me at the end of the hall. Before I could even say a word, she demanded, “Young lady, what were you doing there?” I explained that I worked at the center as a receptionist and that the old man was a friend of mine. I tried to go on and explain about his singing, but she cut me off.
“Well, if you’re the receptionist here, then go do your work. You have no right to be back here with the patients.” She planted her feet in front of me and folded her chin firmly into her neck.
“I just wanted to tell you that you’re making the old man sick by not letting him sing! It makes him happy to sing!” I said this in a rush before she could stop me.
She thrust her face in front of mine. “The old man is dying from an incurable disease. Not from the reason you state.” She checked her watch. “Now, if you’re the evening receptionist, you’re already 15 minutes late. If you still want your job, I advise you to go immediately to your desk and leave this part of the building to me.”
I walked through the building to my desk. I made a resolve to see the old man tomorrow regardless of the nurse. Even if I had to crawl through the window, I would go to him and sing for him until he was well enough to sing like he used to.
The next afternoon I arrived at work early so I could spend more time with the old man. I stepped cautiously into the center watching for the head nurse. There was no sign of her. I reached his room without having an encounter with her. Relieved, I turned to go into his room. The drapes and windows were wide open and sunshine spread through the room. The bed was tightly made and the floor appeared to be newly waxed. There was no sign of the old man or his personal possessions. I was filled with dread at the sight of the well-cleaned room. My footsteps dragged as I walked down to the nurse’s station to inquire about him.
“Room 67?” she repeated after me. I nodded. The nurse aide then turned to a chart and examined it for a minute. She looked up at me. “He died last night about 2:00 A.M.”
Tears blinded my vision as I stumbled down the hall to my desk. I wished with all my heart that I had done more for him. All I could think of was the smile he had given me before I left him yesterday. It had been a grateful smile.
When I reached my desk, I laid my head down and cried helpless tears for the old man. The telephone rang. As I composed myself to answer it, I thought I could hear the faint echo of “There’s Sunshine in My Soul Today.” Suddenly I felt strongly that the old man would be singing at the top of his lungs today. Maybe I was hearing the faint echo of his voice from heaven. I smiled through my tears and started to softly hum the tune.

Tithing develops and tests our faith. By sacrificing to the Lord what we may think we need or want for ourselves, we learn to rely on Him. Our faith in Him makes it possible to keep our temple covenants and receive eternal temple blessings. Pioneer Sarah Rich, wife of Charles C. Rich, wrote in her journal after leaving Nauvoo: “Many were the blessings we had received in the House of the Lord, which [have] caused joy and comfort in the midst of all our sorrows, and enabled us to have faith in God, knowing He would guide us and sustain us in the unknown journey that lay before us.”

Third, live truth.
At times the most effective lesson in living truth is found close to the home and dear to the heart.
At the funeral service of a noble General Authority, H. Verlan Andersen (1914–92), a tribute was expressed by a son. It has application wherever we are and whatever we are doing. It is the example of personal experience.
The son of Elder Andersen related that years earlier he had a special school date on a Saturday night. He borrowed from his father the family car. As he obtained the car keys and headed for the door, his father said, “The car will need more gas before tomorrow. Be sure to fill the tank before coming home.”
Elder Andersen’s son then related that the evening activity was wonderful. Friends met, refreshments were served, and all had a good time. In his exuberance, however, he failed to follow his father’s instruction and add fuel to the car’s tank before returning home.
Sunday morning dawned. Elder Andersen discovered the gas gauge showed empty. In the Andersen family the Sabbath day was a day for worship and thanksgiving, not for purchases. Elder Andersen’s son declared, “I saw my father put on his coat, bid us good-bye, and walk the long distance to the chapel that he might attend an early meeting.” Duty called. Truth was not held slave to expedience.
In concluding his funeral message, Elder Andersen’s son said, “No son ever was taught more effectively by his father than I was on that occasion. My father not only knew the truth, but he also lived it.” Live truth.

One of my first experiences in being restrained by the Spirit came soon after I was called as a counselor in a stake presidency in Chicago. In one of our first stake presidency meetings our stake president made a proposal that our new stake center be built in a particular location. I immediately saw four or five good reasons why that was the wrong location. When asked for my counsel, I opposed the proposal, giving each of those reasons. The stake president wisely proposed that each of us consider the matter prayerfully for a week and discuss it further in our next meeting. Almost perfunctorily I prayed about the subject and immediately received a strong impression that I was wrong, that I was standing in the way of the Lord’s will, and that I should remove myself from opposition to it. Needless to say, I was restrained and promptly gave my approval to the proposed construction. Incidentally, the wisdom of constructing the stake center at that location was soon evident, even to me. My reasons to the contrary turned out to be short-sighted, and I was soon grateful to have been restrained from relying on them.

For Christmas one year, Russell’s parents gave him a shiny black bike. When Russell was 10, his dad asked him to come work as his errand boy. He would send Russell on his bike to deliver and pick up things all over town. Russell met lots of new and interesting people. He was excited to help!
Later Russell used the money he earned from his job as an errand boy to buy his mom a present on his birthday! He wrote her a note that said, “Thanks for having me!”

In September 2013, a few weeks after I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I was called as a ward missionary. During the interview, my bishop told me, “Brother Achille, your duty is to preach the gospel and defend the truth before the world.” Then he asked, “Achille, are you ready?” I answered, “Yes, but I have a concern.” I told him that I did not have much understanding of missionary lessons and he advised me to make institute a priority.
So I began attending institute and the Old Testament was the course of study. It was my first time to study using the Old Testament Institute of Religion Manual, and it was a great joy.

In August 2020, amidst the throes of a pandemic, Len Hurley celebrated his 100th birthday and a lifetime of service—to his family, country, and fellow members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Victoria’s COVID-19 lockdown restrictions meant no visits from family or friends, however, staff at Len’s Bentleigh East nursing home made sure it was a special day for Len, decorating the hall with balloons and making a garden-themed birthday cake to share with fellow residents.
Len’s family joined in the celebrations via Zoom. Letters from the queen and prime minister were also presented to the centenarian.

Some years ago I heard a radio interview featuring Bishop Desmond Tutu, the Anglican archbishop in South Africa. He had just published a book with his daughter about the reconciliation that had taken place in South Africa following apartheid.1 Basically, the book’s message is that there is good in all people.

During the interview the host asked a perceptive, inspired question of Bishop Tutu: “Have you found that your relationship to God has changed as you’ve grown older?”

Bishop Tutu paused and then said, “Yes. I am learning to shut up more in the presence of God.”

He recalled that when he prayed in his earlier years, he did so with a list of requests and solicitudes. He would approach heaven with what he called “a kind of shopping list.” But now, he said, “I think [I am] trying to grow in just being there. Like when you sit in front of a fire in winter, you are just there in front of the fire, and you don’t have to be smart or anything. The fire warms you.”2

After graduating from high school, I felt impressed to visit all four of my grandparents. I had some free time, and I realized that I might not have this opportunity again, so I spent one week with each set of my grandparents.
I spent my time going through old boxes, reading old letters, and looking at old pictures. I recorded my grandparents’ life stories, walked around cemeteries, and visited where my grandparents and their relatives had lived and worked. It was fun! I learned so much about my ancestors, my grandparents, my parents, and myself. I realized that I wouldn’t have the life that I have if it weren’t for my ancestors.
After my trip, I came back with about 1,000 of my ancestors’ names and have been able to do the temple work for many of them. Following the promptings of the Holy Ghost and visiting with my grandparents was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Shenley P., California, USA

“We were driving north on an Oklahoma highway and noted the afternoon sun going out of sight behind the clouds. The grayness got deeper and more ominous. We said, ‘It looks like a storm brewing.’ As darkness increased and the winds began to howl, we said, ‘This storm will be violent.’ As it broke with all its hellish fury, we said, ‘This rain and wind have become a raging whirlwind.’