Gospel Story Finder

After experiencing great success in Merthyr in the nineteenth century, missionary work practically ceased after many members emigrated. The branch was officially closed in 1912. However, in the 1930s missionaries were again assigned to the area. After months of effort, baptisms took place in January 1932. New converts were baptised in the river. Weekly meetings were held in members’ homes, and local halls were hired for conferences.
By 1936 the members felt it appropriate to build their own chapel. After purchasing the materials they built their new wooden chapel in Penyard, Merthyr Tydfil, under the direction of missionary Branch President Evan Arthur. The first recorded sacrament meeting there was held Sunday 20th December 1936.
In February 1937 it was announced that President Heber J. Grant would visit Great Britain, to observe the hundredth anniversary of the gospel coming to Britain (23rd July 1837). On Monday 26th July, President Grant visited Merthyr and dedicated the recently completed chapel. His dedicatory prayer included a blessing that the chapel would stand for as long as the saints needed it.

“Slow down, Tobias,” cautioned Mrs. Thornock.
Obediently ten-year-old Toby ate more slowly. “Papa,” he said, “I’ve done my chores and homework. May I go see Saffron now?”
“Who is Saffron?”
“Well, Saffron is … uh … one of the canaries, Papa.”
“One of the canaries!” Papa shook his head. “What have I told you about getting attached to those birds? You know how hard it is on you when we have to choose one for the mine.”
It was 1843, and at thirty-six, Mr. Thornock was the youngest foreman ever to work for the Pennsylvania coal mine. Hard work and self-education had gained him the position, and he wanted to keep it. He went on, “You also know that the birds will die eventually because they are needed to monitor the safety of the air in the mine. In fact, we will need one on Monday when we open a new tunnel. Have you forgotten that they belong to the mine owner? Besides, the time that you spend with the canaries prevents you from studying. You had a test today. How did you do? Did you study?”
Toby hung his head as he answered, “I didn’t do very well, Papa.” Raising his head again, he continued hopefully, “But Saffron is different, Papa. Can’t I please keep her? What’s one bird? The mine owner doesn’t have to know.”
“Mr. Mallory certainly would know, Toby. You know that I have to account for all expenditures, including the money spent for the canaries and their upkeep. Besides, keeping even one bird is dishonest, and your education is more important than any bird. You must spend more time with your studies.”
“That’s right, Tobias,” Mother agreed. “When will you learn how lucky you are? It took Papa a long time to get Mr. Dawson to allow you to attend his school. How would you like to have to go down into the mine as other boys your age do and as your father did when he was younger? He had to work very hard just to become a foreman. Papa and I want more for you than that.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Come on, Son. Let your mother do the dishes, and we’ll go choose the bird for Monday.”
Father and son went out together, but Toby’s reluctance was undisguised. More than anything else, he hated choosing a canary for the safety test.
In the building where the canaries were kept, Papa moved among the cages, commenting about this one or that one. Toby was not really paying attention, and when his father finally stopped in front of one of the cages, Toby bumped into him. When the boy lifted his head, he was horrified to see that his father was in front of Saffron’s cage.
Toby poked his father’s arm and pointed to a bird farther down. “How about that one, Papa?”
Not looking at his son, Mr. Thornock said, “No, I want this one. That other one isn’t big enough yet.” Hearing Toby gasp, he turned and looked steadily into his son’s eyes. Then he looked again at the bird. “So this is Saffron. She’s a fine bird. I’m sorry, Son, but she’s the one that I’ve chosen, and you know that I don’t change my mind once I’ve chosen a bird.”
Feeling tears come to his eyes, Toby turned and ran. His father shook his head, tagged the cage, then went back to the house.
After receiving an “I don’t know” from his wife as to his son’s whereabouts, he decided that Toby was off crying somewhere and left it at that. Sometime later Toby came home and went to his room.
The next morning was Saturday, and Toby was up and gone before his father. Because Toby had already done his chores, his father went unconcernedly to the mine.
That evening at dinner Toby was quieter than usual, and Papa finally said, “Toby, this has gone on long enough. I’m as sorry as you that we have to use those gentle birds for testing, but the men must be protected. Now, what did you do today?”
“Nothing, Papa.”
“Nothing! You must have done something.”
“No, Papa. After my chores, I just went to the creek and watched the birds and fish.”
Toby would say no more, and Papa gave up, deciding that maybe it was best to let his son talk about it when he was ready.
Sunday passed quietly, but as Toby ate his breakfast Monday morning, Papa went to get Saffron to take with him to the mine. Soon he came back into the house. “Tobias,” his father said, trying to control his anger, “where is the canary?”
Toby was afraid to look up but managed to answer him clearly. “In my secret place, Papa. I had to take her. I couldn’t let you have her.”
Glancing at the clock on the mantle, Mr. Thornock said, “I don’t want you to be late for school, so this evening you and I will have a serious talk. For now, I’ll have to choose a different bird.”
“Yes, Papa,” Toby whispered and fled the house.
All day Toby wished that school would never end. When it did let out, he slowly started home. Mrs. Wickstead, the postmistress, stopped him and gave him a letter for his father. The letter took his mind off his problems until he read the return address. It was from Mr. Mallory, the mine owner! Toby hoped that it wasn’t bad news and that maybe, because of the letter, his father would forget about Saffron.
“Well, that does it,” his father said that evening when he read the letter. “Tobias, you must bring the bird back. Mr. Mallory will be here in a few days to check on things. He says that expenses are too high and that I must cut back. I have to account for everything—even the canaries and their food. He says that if I can’t, I’ll no longer be a foreman.”
“Please, Papa. I can’t. Couldn’t you say that the bird died?”
His mother was shocked. “Tobias! You know that your father doesn’t lie.”
“Tobias, get the bird.”
“No, Papa. You can’t make me.” Tears streamed down Toby’s cheeks.
“If I can’t get through to you one way, it’ll have to be through another. Tomorrow you won’t go to school; you’ll go to the mine with me instead.”
Eyes wide and wet, Toby turned to his mother, who only lowered her eyes. The boy swallowed hard and looked again at his father. “Yes, Papa.”
Down in the mine the next morning Mr. Thornock introduced Toby to a few of the miners. He asked one of them, Mark Grayson, to show Toby around.
Mark took Toby to the newly opened tunnel and explained what Toby already knew—that when the tunnels were opened, sometimes there were poisonous gases that could kill because, having no odor, they were undetectable. “The birds are affected by the gas before we are,” Mark explained. “If the birds die, we have enough time to get everyone away so that the gas can thin out and mix with the less harmful air until it is safe to breathe. I like those birds, but I’d rather have a dead bird than be dead myself.”
That evening as Toby walked home with Papa, his thoughts were in a turmoil. He pictured Saffron down in the mine, dead from the gases. Then he imagined his father and all the miners dead in the mine. What if it actually happened! Toby loved his father very much.
After supper Toby said to his father. “Papa, I’ve put Saffron back with the other birds. And from now on I’m going to work really hard in school because I’ve decided that I want to be a scientist. I’m going to find a way so that we won’t have to use canaries.”
His father looked at him, opened his arms, and, when Toby went into them, hugged him tightly.

The Book of Commandments, published in 1833, was much like our modern-day Doctrine and Covenants, except it included fewer revelations. The Prophet Joseph Smith had received more than 60 revelations for the Church, and they were recorded, but only a few people had access to them. A conference was held in the office of the Evening and Morning Star at Independence, Missouri, on May 29, 1832 to dedicate the printing establishment. Bishop Edward Partridge offered the dedicatory prayer (see Journal History, May 29, 1832). With the establishment of a printing press, it was possible to publish the revelations so more of the Saints could have access to them.
On July 20, 1833, during the printing of the Book of Commandments, mobs trying to force the Saints out of Missouri demolished the printing press. The mob nearly destroyed all the unbound sheets of the Book of Commandments that had been printed. Fortunately, Caroline and Mary Elizabeth Rollins, sisters who were 12 and 14, saved some of the unbound sheets that they saw the mob throw on the ground outside the printing office. They grabbed as many of the sheets as they could and ran, escaping from the mob through a gap in a fence and running into a cornfield. Later, the saved copies were bound, and each of the girls received her own copy of the Book of Commandments.

During general conference in 2001, President Gordon B. Hinckley introduced the Perpetual Education Fund. I needed the opportunities that such a program offered so I could lift myself economically, but I wondered whether I could meet the program’s requirements.
During sacrament meeting a few months later, our stake president spoke about the program. To my great surprise, I learned that I might qualify after all. I thought to myself, “This is my last chance. I can’t pass it up.”
I then began to consider the responsibilities the program would require of me, and I feared that I would fail and once again fall short in Heavenly Father’s eyes. But I overcame these thoughts, and gathering information from the local institute director, I applied. Considering my past, I had little hope that I would be accepted. I felt that I did not deserve such a blessing even though I had repented and returned to church.
When I received a positive response from Church headquarters, my family and I rejoiced. The amount granted was not enough for the entire academic year, but I went ahead and registered for a major in computer programming. I received high grades and earned a scholarship that paid for the rest of my schooling.
Since then I have done everything in my power to show my gratitude. I work hard, I study hard, and I fulfill my responsibilities in the Church. I attend institute classes to try to make up for the years I missed and to learn what the Lord expects of me.
The most important thing I know is that I have been forgiven for all the bad things I did in the past. All of my plans for the future are based on this knowledge. I will continue to help my family, but now I will be able to do so in a better manner.

In another service project titled “Light the world by helping one person help another”, missionaries identified an area in the George metropolitan area that needed upliftment.

“We identified a local neighbourhood park that was in bad need of upgrading, interviewed patrons of the park and a neighbourhood volunteer who helped clean the park,” Elder Miller said.

“We then kept track of what facilities were being used and what was in need of repair. We contacted and met with local government officials and presented a comprehensive plan to them and demonstrated our willingness as a Church to help fund the initial upgrade needs to get the project rolling. They approved our initial proposal and we ordered some facility upgrades.” the Millers said.

Last summer my family and I visited Helen, Georgia. We were having a wonderful time sightseeing, tubing down the river, and shopping. In my favorite shop, my sister and I tried on rings and admired all the pretty jewelry.
Late in the afternoon, a storm started gathering and we decided to head on home. About ten miles outside of Helen, I looked down at my hand and realized that I was still wearing a ring from my favorite shop. I was shocked, and my heart started to beat really fast. I hadn’t meant to take the ring! To make matters worse, we were right in the middle of a very bad storm. “Mom,” I yelled from the back of the van, “we need to go back.”
“What?” my mom asked.
“I accidentally stole a ring, and I need to return it or go back and pay for it.”
Mom didn’t know what to do because she didn’t want to drive all the way back in the storm. She asked if I could remember which shop the ring had come from. I told her, and she was very relieved. When we had been in that shop, she had picked up one of their business cards. She told me it had the shop’s address on it and that I could mail the money with a note to the owners when we got home.
Once home, I immediately got out my stationery and wrote a letter of apology, put the money for the ring into the envelope, and mailed it the next day. I felt much better inside. A few days later, I got a letter from the shop owners saying how glad they were that I had been honest. I was glad too!

In the Philippines today we have more than 55,000 members of the Church. We have sixteen strong stakes and four missions. It is one of the more productive proselyting areas in the world. When the history of the work in the Philippines is written, it must include the story of Sister Maxine Grimm, a girl from Tooele, Utah, who served with the Red Cross in the Pacific campaign of the Second World War. She married an American army officer, and after the war they established their home in Manila. She did much to teach the gospel to others; she pleaded that missionaries be sent. Her husband had legal work done and did many other things to make it possible for the missionaries to come. It would have been much easier for them to have simply gone along their way, making money and enjoying the fruits of it; but Sister Grimm was unceasing in her efforts and pleas.

At the time, I had responsibility for the work in Asia and I carried her pleas to the First Presidency, who, in 1961, authorized the extension of formal missionary work to that land. In May 1961 we held a meeting in the Philippines to begin the work. We had no place to meet and received permission from the American Embassy to do so at the American Military Cemetery on the outskirts of Manila.

There, where are solemnly remembered the sacrifices of more than 50,000 men who gave their lives in the cause of freedom, we gathered together at 6:30 in the morning. Sister Grimm played a little portable organ she had carried through the campaigns of the Pacific War, and we sang the songs of Zion in a strange land. We bore testimony together and invoked the blessings of heaven on what we were to begin there. Present was one native Filipino member of the Church.

That was the beginning of something marvelous, the commencement of a miracle. The rest is history, discouraging at times and glorious at others. I was there for the area conference held several years ago with President Spencer W. Kimball and others. Some 18,000 members of the Church were assembled in the great Aranetta Coliseum, the largest meeting place in all the Republic.

I wept as I thought of the earlier years, and I remembered with appreciation the woman who largely forgot her own interests as she relentlessly pursued her dream of the day when the Church would be strong in the land which she then lived, bringing happiness of a kind previously unknown to thousands of wonderful people.

Danger at the Breaker This easy-to-read book is about eight-year-old Andrew, who had to go to work at the coal mine in a time when the workers were forced to shop at the company (mine owner’s) store for high prices and didn’t even have running water in their homes. There were few safety measures at the mines. Cave-ins and explosions, such as Andrew experienced his first day on the job, were everyday happenings.Catherine Welch6–8 years

I have often wondered what would happen if the method of introducing a father to his newborn child were different. Instead of a doctor coming out and saying, “It’s another girl” or “It’s another boy,” how would we react if each time a child was born our Father in heaven made this kind of introduction to the parents:
“Thank you for preparing this little body for the spirit I have created. Now, I present her to you for a season to care for. Please teach her of me and of my Son. I so much want her back with me some day. It all depends on you. Remember this: She is loving. She will respond to teaching. She wants to learn. Please treat her with respect. The road will not be easy. Some of the time it will be most difficult. I want to help you raise her. Please call on me often for advice and counsel. Together we can help her fulfill her purpose in the earth.”
I wonder how we might treat these little ones if they had this kind of introduction. Would it be different?

I can say as Nephi said, that I was “born of goodly parents” (1 Ne. 1:1). During World War II my father was captured by the Germans when they invaded our country of Belgium. He escaped from them and disappeared into the Underground (a group opposing the invaders). As a young child, I remember seeing my father only once or twice. He made very short visits, then disappeared again into the Underground, where he was a radio operator.
Even when the war was over, he didn’t come home right away but went to Germany with the Belgian Army. Then he was assigned to another city in Belgium. Fortunately my mother was a very strong and faithful person. When my father was away, she was the head and the strength of the family.

Julia wiped her brow. Then she picked up her shovel and started digging. Right now, the ground around her was a patch of dirt. But soon it would become a beautiful garden.
Times were hard for Black people in South Africa. Laws there kept Blacks and Whites separate. Many Black people had been forced to leave their homes and live in certain areas away from White people, and they couldn’t vote. There had been violence in the township where Julia lived, and the schools were closed because of it. Sometimes it was dangerous to be outside.
But that didn’t stop Julia. She wanted to do something to bring goodness to her community. That’s why she was starting a garden.
Some children saw Julia working. “Can we help?” they asked.
“Of course,” said Julia. She handed them each a shovel. She showed them how to loosen the soil and dig up weeds.
“Let us dig the soil of bitterness, throw in a seed of love, and see what fruits it can give us,” she said. “Love comes only by forgiving others.”
Weeks passed, and more plants grew. Other people came to work in the garden. They pulled tall weeds. They planted more seeds. They watered the plants. It made Julia happy to see so many people helping.

When my bishop told me, “The Lord is calling you on a mission,” his words seemed to have a different meaning than they had two years before, when he made the call for the first time.
But two years later, I was sitting right there before my bishop once again, being reminded of my obligation to the Lord’s work on the earth. I felt different about it this time, but I was still reluctant to accept. I wanted the Lord himself to tell me what to do. Scriptures that promised marvelous blessings, shown to me by returned missionaries and the bishopric, did not seem to help.
Praying was not enough either. I fasted also, asking the Lord to give me an unmistakable answer so that I would not be left in doubt. It seemed like a fierce battle inside me, my spirit contending against my mortal reasoning. I was nearly exhausted from it when I felt the “burning in my bosom” and knew the Lord had revealed that accepting a mission call was what he wanted from me.
The first round had been won. Now the scriptures would give me strength to support an unshakable faith in God. I knew that other trials would come but not so soon.

After understanding this doctrine on my mission, I was yearning to hear the announcement of a temple in India. That day came much before the time I anticipated, filling my heart with unspeakable joy and happiness. My wife and I were happy that we no longer have to travel a long distance to be in the Lord’s temple.

Nancy, of the Wolverhampton class, said, “Many thanks to you for the very informative session tonight on the FamilySearch database. Following this [presentation], I now feel more confident in using the site.”

My Aunt Angie has hand made 175 quilts for her children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and others. They are works of art; but more important, each is a labor of love. She can say to a member of her extended family, as she presents a specially made quilt, “Except when I pricked my finger, with every stitch I thought of my love for you.”

Joseph Smith was a valiant servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. He was brave and courageous in standing for right. One time, the Prophet Joseph and several other brethren had been taken from their families and put into jail. They were chained together and had to sleep on the cold prison floor.

During one of the long, cold nights of their imprisonment, Joseph and his friends were unable to sleep. For hours the guards had been boasting about the horrible things they had done to Latter-day Saints. They bragged about robbing, shooting, and killing. They used loud voices to tell about the horrible things they had done to men, women, and even little children.

Suddenly Joseph, unarmed and in chains, stood up and spoke in a voice like thunder: “SILENCE, ye fiends [devils] of the infernal pit [hell]. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease [stop] such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, page 180.)

The guards shook, and some dropped their weapons. Some of the guards begged Joseph’s pardon. All of them remained quiet until a change of guards.

When I felt lonely during college, I always had this thought: “If I’m feeling lonely, someone else is too.” That would motivate me to reach out to a friend or acquaintance. Our conversations would always lift both of our spirits.
I’ve realized that when I focus on helping others, I’m happy. This happens every time I listen to my friends’ struggles and offer them love and support. Just as President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) said, “To find real happiness, we must seek for it in a focus outside ourselves.”5

A young man in New Zealand gives a priesthood blessing to his mother.

Shula’s talent has put her in great demand with several different groups, so Shula has to make a lot of tough decisions about how she will spend her time. At these times, Shula relies on guidance from both her earthly parents and her Heavenly Father to make the best choices.

For example, Shula recently auditioned for the renowned National Youth Music Theater. She was offered a part in Pendragon, which will tour Scotland and be presented at the Edinburgh Festival—an event frequented by talent scouts and televised throughout Britain.

Unfortunately, rehearsals will coincide with school G.C.S.E. exams, so she declined. The director even phoned her personally to try to change her mind, informing her she’d been chosen for outstanding musicality.

A dilemma. Education versus opportunity. Education won.

“Sometimes things feel like a sacrifice,” Shula agrees, “but I enjoy what I’m doing so much that it really isn’t. It’s all worthwhile.”

Honschi was the smallest chickadee in the nest. She was so comfortable there she didn’t want to leave and learn to fly. Although she eventually tried to fly, she was all alone—faced with dangers of being trapped, almost being caught by a large shrike, and learning to endure terrible storms. Honschi eventually found the strength and courage to survive.