Gospel Story Finder

On Friday, June 1, 2012, some 350 Latter-day Saints in Samoa joined with other Samoans to march in an independence celebration parade through the streets of Apia. Fifty years ago, in 1962, the country gained its independence from New Zealand.
Organizations, schools, local churches, and international organizations took part. Latter-day Saint students entertained the tens of thousands of onlookers with their marching band.
But the weekend included another point of celebration for Latter-day Saint Samoans; it was also 50 years ago that the first stake was organized in the country, in Apia.
On Sunday, June 3, Elder James J. Hamula and Elder Kevin W. Pearson of the Seventy, both members of the Pacific Area Presidency, spoke to Latter-day Saints and guests in a special meeting that was broadcast to LDS meetinghouses across the nation.
Looking ahead, Latter-day Saints in Samoa aim to continue to serve and strengthen their families, villages, and nation, said Elder Hamula, who serves as Area President. “We are growing wonderfully as a Church here, and we are growing in our families and personal lives as we seek to follow the teachings and example of Jesus Christ,” he said.

Uncle Chadwick turned from the window and sat down behind his desk. He propped his feet up and looked at us a long moment, his deep-set eyes shining with warm concern and quiet, tender affection. “It’s supposed to be a true story I don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s about one of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s sons, Joseph III. It happened in Nauvoo, in the early 1840s before the Prophet’s martyrdom at Carthage Jail in 1844.
“Joseph and some of the Brethren, including John Taylor and other apostles, were having a meeting at the Prophet’s home. A man by the name of Loren Walker—a member of the Church who lodged with the Prophet and his family for a time and who became a close and trusted friend—had on that occasion cleaned Joseph’s firearms and some of his clothes. He put the clothes into the wardrobe but, rather than disturb the Prophet during the meeting, put Joseph’s guns on the bed, thinking that Joseph would put them where they belonged later on.
“Now I want you children to know that the only reason the Prophet Joseph carried a gun was that the persecution he endured was sometimes so intense that he was forced to arm himself for his own safety.
“Anyway,” Uncle Chadwick continued, “the Prophet’s son Joseph went into that room to take a nap. The sound of the voices in the adjoining room kept him awake, and he found himself attracted to the pistols. Seeing that he was unobserved because of the bed’s canopy, young Joseph picked up one of the pistols. Now, he didn’t think for a minute that it was loaded or that he could possibly fire it, but the thought playfully passed through his mind that if it was loaded and he did fire it, he was sure he could hit a certain spot on the canopy.”
Suddenly Uncle Chadwick banged the flat of his hand on his desk, and we all jumped. “BANG! went the pistol,” he yelled.
“Well,” he went on, “the sound of the discharge alarmed the Prophet and the others who were holding council. Thinking the gunshot had come from outside the house and that someone was coming to attack the Prophet, they all dashed outside to look around. When they didn’t see anyone, they were puzzled. Then Brother Walker suddenly remembered where he’d left the pistols. Fearing the worst, they ran back into the house and into the bedroom.”
Uncle Chadwick pulled out a rumpled handkerchief, blew his nose, then stuffed the cloth carefully back into his back pocket. He took off his spectacles and held them up to the light as if to examine an imaginary smudge, all the while listening to the bench creak as we fidgeted. Finally, when he was sure we had fretted long enough about the worst that could have happened to young Joseph, he propped his eyeglasses back on his nose, gave us a sideways look, and continued: “Well, there lay young Joseph, as white as a just-scrubbed sheet. The pistol was at his side, and smoke was filling the canopy. He was unharmed, except that when the pistol had recoiled, it had fallen from his hand and struck him soundly on the head.
“At first there was some thought on the Prophet Joseph’s part to scold both Brother Walker, for having left the weapons there, and his son Joseph, for having played with them. But after the scare was over, there was general laughter—at the boy’s expense. The dust from the canopy, the damaged ceiling plaster that covered young Joseph, and the fast-swelling bump on his head were about all the ‘fun’ he had from the incident. However, it was a good lesson for everyone, and after that, firearms were carefully kept away from children.”

There was a time when I didn’t want to be around a girl in my Young Women class. Some of her behaviors didn’t seem very appropriate to me. I asked myself, “Why is she like that?”

Then in a conference, someone talked about how we shouldn’t see people as they are but for who they can become. That hit me hard. I decided to try and see the good things about this young woman. She participated in class. She was willing to come to church even though she and her sister were the only active members in their family. She was willing to come to activities, even when her sister wasn’t as willing.

When I started looking for good things about this young woman, I felt like I was no longer seeing her with my earthly eyes. I felt like I was seeing her through the eyes of God, the way He would see her.

Aunt Jennie gave me a scrapbook for my birthday. The cover is red with “My Book of Remembrance” written on the front. The pages inside are thick and gray.
I decided to put the supplies I need to work on my scrapbook in a box. I put in markers, scissors, glue, and tape.
Mom is helping me fill my book with things about me.
On the first page I glued a picture of me, and I wrote my name below it. Then I wrote, “My eyes are green. My hair is brown. I am six years old.”
On the next page I glued a special letter Grandma sent me. It is the first letter I ever received.
Last month I made a card for my dad. I colored purple flowers all around it. Dad said I could glue it in my book.
On another page I drew a picture of my mom, dad, brother, our pet cat, and me. I added a photo of the whole family and wrote, “We are a family.”
Mom helped me find a picture of the temple to glue in my book. I want to remember that we can be together forever.
I drew a picture of my house and the tree I like to climb. I also wrote my address and phone number.
If you read my book of remembrance, you will learn lots of things about me. You can fill a book with things about you too. When people read it, they will learn about your history!

One of the fundamental things my parents taught me was the importance of prayer. They taught me that if there was ever anything wrong in my life or if I ever needed help, I should always pray. One of the first times I remember following their advice was when I was about six years old.

That year for Christmas I had been thrilled to find a toy bow and arrow under the Christmas tree. This toy was exactly what I had wanted. I spent many hours aiming the arrow straight up into the air and seeing how high I could get it to fly.

One day I shot the arrow into the air, then lost sight of it. I had no idea where it landed. I spent a very long time looking for it, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I remember how bad I felt. I thought at the time that this was one of the saddest things that had ever happened to me.

Remembering what my parents had taught me, I decided to ask Heavenly Father for help. I knelt by the trunk of an apple tree and told Him what had happened. I asked Him for help in finding the arrow. When I opened my eyes, the arrow was next to me, sticking in the ground. That made a great impression on me, and I have relied heavily since then on the power of prayer.

This activity offers a fun, challenging twist on the cooking activity idea given in “You, the Youth, and the Mutual Theme” (Liahona, January 2018). Pick a recipe and have one person read it while the youth each listen and follow the instructions to make the dish. Then, play loud music periodically as the reader is speaking, making it harder to hear the instructions. Encourage the reader to continue reading the recipe and not repeat themselves. After the activity, talk about how letting the world drown out the words of Christ makes following Him more difficult.

Eighteen-year-old Chris Garrett has made a dramatic recovery from drug addiction so severe that he is considered lucky to be alive. He first drank alcohol as a small boy, was smoking marijuana by his early teenage years, and, within a few years, was using anything he could find: marijuana, cocaine, LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide), opium, crack, speed, and many types of prescription drugs. He even grew marijuana among his mother’s house plants. To finance his habit, he burglarized people’s homes, picked pockets, and took money from purses left in parked cars during church services. Three years ago, Chris entered a treatment program that took him fourteen months to complete.
Chris did not look like what most people think a drug abuser looks like, which is perhaps part of the reason his habit escaped his parents’ notice for a time. He was neat, well-dressed, and well-groomed. “You don’t have to look like a drug-user or associate with the ‘bad’ kids anymore to get into trouble,” says Carol White, a community leader in drug prevention. “I know one boy who started using drugs at work, and he used drugs with his closest friends and their parents. Many of those friends were leaders at his school.”

My friend has always struggled to fit in and feel comfortable around people. I can relate and wanted to serve her more.

I realized I found my place by going to church. I found the most joy there. I thought the Church could help my friend out too.

I felt prompted to first invite her to a fun youth activity, then to Church on Sunday, then to my sister’s farewell, and then to meet with the missionaries.

As we act, Heavenly Father blesses us. When we do our part, He does His. I have seen that in my life. I know that when we “go and do,” we are becoming more like Christ. Not only that, but it simply makes you feel good, and God will guide us to where He needs His work done.

Hannah L., 16, Utah, USA

I watched a fuzzy caterpillar
Crawling across the street;
His little body wiggled
As he moved his many feet.
When he hurried in a flurry,
He moved his feelers ‘round
And looked like an accordion
As he slid along the ground.
“Mr. Caterpillar, what’s your hurry?
Can’t you see the sun’s still high?”
“Yes, it is, but I won’t see it
If a car comes rolling by!”

The unseen hand of the Lord guides the efforts of those who strive to learn and live the truth of the gospel. As a mission president, I received a weekly letter from each missionary. One that pleased me greatly came from a young elder serving in Hamilton. He and his companion were working with a lovely family, a young couple with two children. The couple felt that the message was true, and they could not deny their desire to be baptized. The wife, however, worried about her mother and father in faraway western Canada, fearing she and her husband would be disowned by her parents for joining the Church. She took pen in hand and jotted a note to her parents in Vancouver. The note read something like this:
“Dear Mother and Father,
“I want to thank you with all of my heart for your kindness and for your understanding and for the teachings which you gave me in my youth. John and I have come across a great truth, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We have studied the discussions, and our baptism will take place next Saturday night. We hope you will understand. In fact, we hope that you will welcome the missionaries in your home as we welcomed them in ours.”
The letter was sealed with a tear, a stamp was affixed, and it was mailed to Vancouver. On the very day it was received in Vancouver, the couple in Hamilton received a letter from the wife’s mother and father. They wrote:
“We are far away from you, or we would surely talk to you in person. We want you to know that missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have called at our home, and we cannot deny the validity of their message. We have set a date for our baptism to take place next week. We hope you will understand and not be unduly critical of our decision. This gospel means so much to us and has brought such happiness into our lives that we pray someday you might also agree to learn more about it.”
Can you imagine what happened when the couple in Hamilton received that letter from the wife’s parents? They phoned Mother and Dad, and there were many tears of joy shed. I am sure there was a long-distance embrace, for both families became members of the Church.
You see, our Heavenly Father knows who we are, His sons and His daughters. He wants to bring into our lives the blessings for which we qualify, and He can do it. He can accomplish anything.

While I was serving as stake president, my counselors and I invited a certain brother for an interview where we presented to him his calling to be the president of the stake Young Men organization. This man had not been fully active. He liked to spend his weekends, including Sundays, camping and fishing, and it was reported that he and his wife did not always obey the Word of Wisdom. There was some question as to whether we should consider him for such a position, but because of the prayerful discussions we had held in the presidency and the high council we concluded that he should be called. As we advised this brother of his appointment, he responded that he was not interested and that he did not feel worthy or qualified. We then told him how we had come to choose him over all the members of the stake. We explained that we needed a strong and capable leader of youth in our stake and that both the presidency and the high council had offered earnest prayers, asking the Lord to indicate the person who should fill the position. We said: “The answer was clear. You are the man the Lord has chosen. It is for you to decide, of course, but you do have an obligation to go home and discuss the question with your wife. The only request we make of you is that thereafter you kneel down with her and ask the Lord what he wants you to do.”

Three days later I received an unhappy telephone call from this same man. He reluctantly informed me that he would accept the position with all its implications. He gave powerful service in his calling, and when that assignment was finished, he became a member of the high council, and he has been happy about the gospel ever since.

While it proved difficult to win over some of the editors and media outlets, it did not take much to win over the Saints. Small acts of service went a long way. During a conference in Manchester, James travelled to Leigh to visit Sister Rachel Bentham Jones who had been bedridden for twenty-seven years. He gave her a blessing and then returned to the meeting.17

You find out your good friend spread a nasty rumor about you behind your back.
The world’s way: Start a rumor about your friend so she knows how it feels.
The meek way: Calmly talk to your friend, try to understand why she spread the rumor, and work together to solve the problem.

An audit of our personal records. If we have not taken time to review our records of contributions to the Church, how do we know they are correct? A few years ago, at our year-end review of our contributions, my wife and I discovered that a check for tithing we thought we had written in July had never been given to the Church. We corrected that error immediately.

“Do you know what I want more than anything else, Dad?” This was my son talking as we walked along together. Like a newscaster’s prebroadcast review, some observations of the past several days quickly spun through my mind. The carpet in one room of my son’s modest home was worn like an over-used sheet of carbon paper. Their only lamp drooped its tired head like a wilted flower. His car at near 80,000 miles was begging for retirement. Which of these among many others does he need most? I wondered.
“What I want more than anything else,” he continued, “is for you to be proud of me.” This was my proudest moment. I was proud of his mature sense of values—and rather ashamed of my own momentary immaturity.
Once more I recalled the sweet spirit I had found in his home, the way we had knelt in family prayer, the family home evening in which his seven-year-old daughter directed the program. My heart swelled as I recalled the love he had expressed for his devoted wife, for his bishop, for his home teachers, for the gospel’s influence in his life, and for his marriage.

One of the sweet, widowed sister missionaries, Lorna Call Alder, said in her weekly letter to me: “The experiences of my mission have strengthened my testimony greatly. I cannot remember when I gained a testimony, but I do remember many experiences that have enriched and built upon the foundation I have. Of the many humbling experiences I’ve had, these past eight months have brought me closer to the Lord than any other period. I’ve lived through three revolutions in Mexico, which really built my testimony. Writing lessons for the Church brings one very close to the Lord, and he did bless me with more than I can tell you. But this mission has given me more twenty-four-hour spirituality than I have ever had.
“Other very spiritual uplifts in my life were times my sons were on their missions and they asked me to read the Book of Mormon while they were gone. My husband died while my oldest son was in Chile on his mission, and I was really humbled during that trying period. I am thankful for this experience of hard work and great blessings. With humility and thanksgiving, Sister Alder.”

“Later my father also served as the Oakley First Ward bishop. Even though he died when I was eight years old, I remember him quite well. He was the local banker. I used to like to go to town and walk into the bank and see my father talking with someone at his desk. I grew up with the image of my father helping people. He understood that service is an inherent part of the gospel.

A discussion of the travels of Paul through the old part of the world is interesting; yet names such as Cyprus, Galatia, Macedonia, Ephesus, or Thessalonica are often unlocated places in our minds. Picture a teacher with a group of enthusiastic students around a large colored map. As the story is being told, they place pins at the points in Paul’s travels, then stretch different colored yarns from pin to pin to show his different missionary travels and his last journey to Rome. Now the lesson becomes fascinating. A picture is worth a thousand words. Advertisers know this, merchants know this, but no one knows it better than the teacher who is anxious about his or her students.

As a freshman in high school, Jacqueline C., from Indiana, USA, was asked to design costumes for all 25 members of her school’s play. The play was set in the late 1800s in the southern United States, so designing costumes that fit the time and place was not an easy task.
Jacqueline started by reading books about costume design, researching the time period, and looking at lots of pictures. She also spent time talking with the director about how each character should be portrayed.
After all her research, Jacqueline designed the costumes, and she made sure all the actors looked their part. “There are two characters in the play that are complete opposites,” Jacqueline says. “Their actions showed that they were opposites, and I made sure their costumes did too.”
When actors are dressed appropriately for their character, it adds a lot to the play. “Their costumes pull the whole show together and give it a polished look,” Jacqueline explains. As a costume designer, Jacqueline knows the importance of actors’ looking their part, and as a Latter-day Saint, she knows the importance of our looking our part too. “The first impression the world has of us is based on how we look,” she says.

“Nature connects me to Christ. Hearing the birds singing reminds me that He cares for me. Not even a little bird falls without His knowledge, and He feeds them. The different plants, with their different sizes, shapes and colours remind me that God blesses me in many different ways.” —Rumbidzai Mambo, Zimbabwe.