Gospel Story Finder

To conclude their year of study of the New Testament, the three seminary classes of Merced, California, held a mock trial to hear witnesses give testimony about the death and resurrection of the Savior. To add authenticity to the proceedings, they received permission to use a local courtroom at 6:00 A.M.
Students were selected as jurors, court reporter, bailiff, and members of the press. Others were asked to participate as witnesses, representing biblical characters. The trial was conducted with witnesses testifying as to what they knew and had seen. Each witness was cross-examined. The courtroom was crowded with spectators as those students not assigned parts were invited to watch.
The jury returned with a verdict, indicating that the evidence presented supported the claim that Christ died on the cross and was resurrected.
The seminary students were involved in something out of the ordinary and were given the chance to examine the significance of the world-changing nature of the crucifixion and resurrection.

Miyako was recently baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. She remembers feeling “clean and clear.” She had already felt the influence of the Holy Ghost at times before she was baptized, and she was eager to have Him as a constant Companion. Now she listens carefully for the still, small voice.

But it hasn’t always been that way.

During the Mexican Revolution, it was Candace’s great-great-uncle, Anson Bowen Call, who hid in that upstairs room while Mexican revolutionaries searched the house. When they didn’t find all they wanted, one shot his gun in the direction of the room in anger and frustration.

“One of the guards shot into the room where we were,” wrote Anson, who was 15 years old at the time, in his journal. “A piece of flying glass cut my head over my right eyebrow. When I saw the blood running down over my eye, I thought I had been shot and felt the back of my head to feel the hole where the bullet had come out. But there was none, much to my relief. … It is a Christmas Eve I won’t ever forget.”

My wife and I were married in 1981 in the Tokyo Japan Temple. Our life after marriage was not easy at first. I was grateful to have a job, but we had trouble meeting our expenses. We asked Heavenly Father for His help and did all we could to make ends meet and pay our tithing. We knew that if we trusted in the Lord, He would provide for us.
One week both my wife and my friend brought me the same small clipping out of the newspaper. It was an ad for a full-time English teacher.
I sent my résumé to the company and was asked to come in for an interview. At the end of the interview, the interviewer said, “You wrote in your résumé that you had been involved in volunteer work as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. So that means you go to church on Sundays, don’t you? If you had to decide whether to go to church or to work on Sundays, which would you choose?”
It was a difficult question because I needed a better job. But after pondering, I replied, “I would go to church.”
With a vague smile, the interviewer said, “Oh, I see.” Then he dismissed me with the promise that the company would make a decision by that evening and that I should call to find out the results. As I left the room, I thought I had failed.
Later that evening when it came time to call, I dialed the company’s number with great fear.
“What about the results of the interview?” I asked the secretary. “I failed, didn’t I?”
I was stunned but happy with her answer.
“We’d like to ask you to work for us,” she said.
About a month later I learned why I got the job. The secretary explained that the interviewer lived next door to full-time Latter-day Saint missionaries. He had often watched the missionaries briskly riding their bicycles to their work in the morning.
“He believed that you, belonging to the same church, would work for us just as hard as the missionaries worked for their church,” she said. “Lucky you!”
Since then our family has always had what we needed.
Whenever I think of this choice experience, I am encouraged and comforted. I know that God often uses other people to bless His children. I cannot adequately express how grateful I feel for my wife and my friend for their inspiration in bringing that newspaper ad to me, for those hardworking missionaries and their great example, and for our merciful, loving, and caring Heavenly Father, who has miraculous power to consecrate our experiences for our good.

For example, when the Richinses arrived in Jamestown, Tennessee, an eighty-five-year-old man, Mr. Miller, lived behind them. One day Mr. Miller walked over to the Richins’ apartment and asked if he could borrow their landlord’s ladder so someone could fix his leaky roof. But no one ever came to borrow the ladder. After several weeks Elder Richins put his work clothes on, picked up the ladder, and was halfway up to the roof when Mr. Miller came out of the house.
“What are you doing, preacher?” he called.
“I’m going to fix your roof.”
When he was through, Mr. Miller opened his wallet and pulled out a couple of twenty-dollar bills. “I want to pay you for the work.”
“I’ll tell you how you can pay me,” said Elder Richins. “Say thanks. That’s all the pay I want. We Mormon ‘preachers,’ as you call us, don’t take money for doing the Lord’s work.”
Mr. Miller insisted. But Elder Richins said: “No, I did it as a friend. I did it because we love you.”
“But I don’t belong to your church!”
“You’re still God’s child, same as the rest of us.”
Several weeks later a non-Mormon grocer told Elder Richins the rest of the story. Mr. Miller’s minister accosted him in the grocery store and reprimanded him for not attending church lately. The old man took the rebuke mildly, but got angry when the minister began criticizing his Mormon neighbors:
“Listen here,” he reportedly said, “don’t you ever say anything about that Mormon preacher. He fixed my roof after I had tried for months to hire somebody from your church to do it. But the Mormon preacher did it, and he did it by himself.”
“Yes”, returned the minister, “but what’d he charge you?”
“Oh, he won’t take money for doing the Lord’s work!”
That experience—and others like it—were talked about all over town, and people felt willing to invite the Richinses into their homes. The Richinses were the first missionaries in Jamestown for four months because antagonism had been so strong, but within three months, they had met every minister in town, and anti-Mormon propaganda ceased as they made friendly contacts with the radio station managers and other town leaders.

Seven months before that experience, our second child and first daughter was born. At the time of Brianna’s birth, my Mom sent her a beautiful white satin dress. This important dress was for Mom’s first granddaughter. Since it had to travel all the way from the United States to Jamaica, Mom had packed it in a plastic covering and placed it in a sizeable box for further protection. When the dress arrived, my husband and I couldn’t have been more pleased; it was clean, white, and beautiful—just perfect to put on our little girl.

Although I prayed every day, I’d never felt like my prayers could be described as anything but ordinary. I wondered if the heroes in the scriptures were the only ones whose prayers could be described as “mighty.”
One day, a friend called and described a beautiful prayer experience she had had. “It was like real two-way communication with my Father in Heaven,” she said. “Heaven felt so close around me.”
Her experience caused me to wonder, “Is that what the scriptures meant by mighty prayer?” That was what happened with Enos when he knelt in prayer. Since I couldn’t remember ever having this experience when I prayed, I decided to find out what makes prayer mighty and how I could make my prayers more meaningful.
I started by making a list of the things I thought would work. My main problem was falling asleep during my prayers. It may seem silly, but the first thing on my list was to try praying in more uncomfortable places. This really worked to keep me awake, but my prayers still felt the same as they always did.
I thought I might try longer prayers, like Enos. Surely that would let Heavenly Father know that I really wanted to communicate with Him. Nothing changed. And although I was sure Heavenly Father was blessing me and listening to my prayers, I wanted to feel closer to Him than I was feeling.
Over a period of time I tried many other techniques, such as concentrating harder, writing down everything I needed to pray for so I wouldn’t forget anything, and praying out loud. Nothing seemed to make my prayers feel mighty.
Then one day that all changed. It happened to be near Christmastime and I was listening to “O Holy Night” in my bedroom. As I pondered the Savior and His mission, the music penetrated my heart. A feeling of joy and gratitude washed over me as I thought of the Savior’s love and His great Atonement. I got on my knees and uttered a simple prayer of thanksgiving, with the hope that I could become more like Him. As a gentle warmth and happiness enveloped my heart, heaven felt very near, and the Spirit helped me to understand that this is what it meant to have mighty prayer.

I next asked Mom as she left for work, “How can wishes come true?”
“I can’t tell you,” she said, “but I wish the living room would be picked up and vacuumed. After work I must go by the dry cleaners, so I’ll be late.”
“I can’t tell you,” he answered, “but I wish my good suit was cleaned and pressed. I need it tomorrow.” Looking at Mom’s note saying that she would be late, he started picking up the living room. “Hmmm … it needs the full treatment,” he said. He wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.
When Mom came home, she looked around with pleasure at the clean, inviting living room. And the next morning Dad was happy to find his freshly pressed suit in his closet.

A beautiful young girl as white as snow finds a home in the forest with seven dwarfs until her jealous stepmother discovers she is still alive. The ending and the unusually lovely detailed illustrations of this 1973 Caldecott Award honor book give a different flavor to a favorite old tale.

The last stop Father had to make was in Sweden. It was Midsummer’s Eve when Milo’s family arrived in the capital city of Stockholm. Everyone was in a holiday mood. People in gay costumes had gathered for the early festival.
“Why do they celebrate Midsummer’s Eve?” Milo asked Father.
“The people in Sweden celebrate the return of summer to their land about the middle of June each year,” Father replied.
Groups of young people were talking, laughing, and dancing. Their gay costumes were bright in the sunshine. Several boys invited Milo to join in their celebrating. He looked at Father who nodded and said, “That sounds fun, but don’t stay too long.”
“Meet us back at the inn for dinner,” called Mother.
Near the center of the green where groups were dancing there was a large pole with colored streamers hanging down from the top. The word Majstang (Maypole) was posted on a nearby tree. Soon all the dancers gathered around the pole to sing folk songs. It was a colorful sight and everyone was so happy that Milo could not help joining in with them even though he did not know many of the words.
After awhile everyone broke into small groups again and began winding the pole. In and out, over and under, went the colorful ribbons as the dancers swayed and dipped and danced to the singing.
Milo was sorry when it was over. Then he noticed how low the sun was and remembered he was to meet his parents at the inn for smorgasbord.
The smorgasbord was quite different from any Milo had eaten at home. The tables were piled high with smoked and pickled fish, tongue, sweetmeats, spiced fruits, relishes, cheeses, and various kinds of soda water.
“After dinner we’ll have to watch some of the young people start up the mountain. They climb to the top every year to welcome the sunrise,” Father explained.
Milo wished he could go with them but the family was leaving early the next morning to go home.

Sister Katy Key, school teacher and Young Women President from the St Helier Ward in Jersey, works very closely with the Church of England Reverend Helen Gunton of the Grouville Parish Church.
Leading up to Remembrance Sunday, Katy got the pupils from the school and their parents involved to help make poppies that would convert a local meadow into a poppy meadow that the Grouville Remembrance Service Parade would pass by. A teaching assistant at the school made the silhouette of the soldier that was standing guard over the meadow.
The parish news and social media has been very positive about the installation of the poppies saying, “the praise for the poppy installation has been wide and generous”. The Connétable (Constable) and the Seigneur of the local manor have also highly praised the installation.
Katy said “It was lovely and quite moving to help a new generation understand the sacrifice that soldiers made in the First World War in such a practical way.”
On Armistice Day, Katy’s school class went to the poppy meadow where they took part in the two-minute silence. Every class from the school has spent time visiting the poppy meadow since the poppy meadow was created.

Born and raised in the village of Tafua on the island of Savai’i, Valaei married Leali’ie’e Ova Taleni from the village of Vaiafai, Iva on Savai’i.

Valaei began her life in the Congregational Christian Church of Samoa (CCCS), also known as the EFKS church. Her husband introduced her to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she was baptised in the McKay Branch (now a ward) on Savai’i.

In 1633 the Black Death came to a German village located high in the Bavarian Alps. In those days there was no cure for bubonic plague. The farmers and woodcarvers and shopkeepers of Oberammergau were very frightened.
In just a few days, almost one-fourth of the villagers died. Most families lost at least one member, and many of the victims were children. Other people were so sick that it seemed like they, too, would die. The people prayed for Heavenly Father to help them—and He did. The Black Death visited them no more.
The people had suffered greatly, but they knew someone who had suffered even more—Jesus Christ. They promised God that every ten years they would stage a passion play to show how Jesus had suffered. They wanted to thank God for saving their village.
In 1634, the people of Oberammergau put on their first passion play. All of the actors lived in the village, and even though they weren’t professional actors, they worked hard and their play was very good.
For hundreds of years the people in Oberammergau have kept their promise. Every ten years they have a passion play, and thousands of people come from all over the world to see it.
It is now 350 years since the village’s first passion play. Once again, the people of Oberammergau are preparing their play. The men are growing beards, and none of them is getting a haircut. They want to look like people did in Jesus’ time. The play lasts 8 hours, and more than 1200 people perform in it.
Many children are in the play. Someday they will be in charge of it. Like their parents and grandparents, they will keep the promise made by their ancestors so long ago.

Kent F. Richards witnesses a three-generation family being baptized for their ancestors.

Laura was looking out the window when she heard Sister Warren say, “Laura, can you guess from the clues I’ve just given whom we will learn about in our lesson today?”
Rob started to laugh. “Perfect little Laura wasn’t listening!” he teased.
Laura could feel her face getting hot. She whirled around and faced Rob. “Even when you do listen, you never know any answers!” she snapped.
When Primary was over, Sister Warren asked Laura and Rob to stay for a moment. She wrote “Mosiah 27:3–4” on two small pieces of paper. She handed one to each of the children, saying, “During King Mosiah’s reign, a strict command was given to all the church members. Will you find out what it was? Then I’d like both of you to read this scripture aloud to the Primary next week.”
Laura found the scripture and read it carefully. The parts she understood best were: “There should be an equality among all men” and “every man should esteem his neighbor as himself.”
Laura thought about Rob. She had been unkind. Sometimes she thought she was a better person than Rob because she usually knew the right answers.
When Rob read the scriptures in his Book of Mormon, he knew that making fun of Laura had been wrong. He felt bad when he remembered how embarrassed she had been. At Primary the next week, Sister Warren began by saying, “Did you know that there are over five billion people who live in this world right now? Did you know that every single one of them is different? Heavenly Father created each person and loves everyone.
“When we treat each other with respect, honor, and love, we are showing reverence for Heavenly Father. We must be courteous and kind to every person, even those who may seem to be very different from us.”
Then the class played a game called “We Are Different.” When the game was over, Sister Warren asked Laura and Rob to read the scriptures in Mosiah to the Primary. Then Sister Warren said, “Some of you may have noticed how courteous Laura and Rob were as they helped you play this game. Their example helps us see how treating all people with respect is a good way to show reverence for Heavenly Father and Jesus.”

As an Aaronic Priesthood young man, I can remember the excitement I felt as a newly ordained deacon. I looked forward to being able to fulfill my priesthood assignments. As a young Primary boy, I watched the deacons in my ward very closely in anticipation of the day I would be 12 years old, receive the priesthood, and be able to pass the sacrament. That day finally arrived, and soon after being ordained by my father, who was the bishop of the ward, I felt ready, but nervous, to begin my duties as a new deacon.
I now belonged to a quorum of the Aaronic Priesthood. The members of my quorum became very best friends. That friendship and quorum brotherhood continued to grow through my youth as we learned and served together in our priesthood duties. We were all good friends and experienced a fun and enjoyable time being together in our quorum activities.
One Sunday following one of those warm and long sacrament meetings, the first counselor in our bishopric called me aside to talk to me. This unscheduled priesthood interview became a blessing in my life as I have pondered the question he asked during our brief but significant visit. Brother Bateman looked me in the eye and asked, “Dean, do you know who you are?” There was complete silence, and then he gave me a quick and powerful reminder, “You are the son of Reid Burgess.”
The meaning and significance of that question has burned in my heart for a long time, and I often reflected on it throughout my teenage years. This good brother’s question—“Do you know who you are?”—has given me inspired direction throughout my life and a commitment to bring respect and honor to my family and to the priesthood.

One of the Prophet’s priorities after the organization of the Church in 1830 was the recording and preservation of his revelations. Although more comprehensive record keeping did not emerge until 1832, Joseph Smith and John Whitmer began in the summer of 1830 to assemble the revelations the Prophet had received to that point. By at least March of 1831, John Whitmer began copying this early collection of revelation manuscripts into what he titled the “Book of Commandments and Revelations.” This manuscript book, which Papers editors have designated as Revelation Book 1, contains items that were copied from around March 1831 to the middle of 1835.
Commissioned during a November 1831 Church conference in Ohio to publish the collected revelations, John Whitmer and Oliver Cowdery carried the “Book of Commandments and Revelations” to Missouri where they, along with W. W. Phelps, set about publishing A Book of Commandments (see D&C 67). By early 1832, with the first book of revelation manuscripts in Missouri, Joseph and his scribes procured another book in which to copy revelations. Known as the “Kirtland Revelation Book,” this second book has been labeled as Revelation Book 2 by the Papers editors. It was created from late February or early March 1832 to the end of 1834. The first volume in the Revelations and Translations Series features these two books of revelation manuscripts.

Melanie learned this important point. “As I grew up I was always looking at my older sister who could play the piano beautifully, sing, dance, paint, write, and draw. I kept trying to think of something she didn’t do that I could excel in. But because she did so much, I never thought of anything. So I just didn’t try.

“I was married and had two children when I began analyzing my feelings and discouragement at my lack of talents. I had always wanted to play the piano, but I had never wanted to take lessons because my sister played so well. Finally one day it hit me. Why should it matter that Jean plays piano well? What difference should that make? If I want to play, then I should go ahead and play because I want to learn.

“So I did. At first it bothered me that I was working on simple tunes while Jean was learning heavy classical pieces. But soon my enjoyment of music overcame that. Maybe I don’t play as well as my sister, and maybe I never will, but it matters less every day as I find fulfillment in my music. I’m so glad I finally stopped letting somebody else’s accomplishments slow my own progress.”

Brayden listened to Mom read from the Bible and looked at the picture she showed them. It showed Jesus after He was resurrected. He was talking to some of His disciples who were on a fishing boat.
The disciples had fished all night without catching anything. When Jesus came, He told them where to put their net to catch fish. They tossed the net into the water. This time it caught so many fish they couldn’t pull the net back up!
“They caught that many fish?” Brayden’s brother, Christian, asked, eyes wide. Mom nodded, and kept reading.
She read how the disciples dragged the net to shore. It had caught 153 large fish. But even though it was so full, the net hadn’t broken! (See John 21:2–11).
This time, it was Brayden who had a question.
“What do you think they did with all of the fish?”
Mom set her scriptures down on her lap. “You know, I’ve read these verses many times, but I guess I never really thought about that. But I love your question! Let’s keep reading and see what it says.”
Soon they found a verse that said Jesus cooked fish for Peter and the other disciples.
“So they ate some of the fish?” Brayden asked.
Mom nodded, but before she could read more, Christian jumped up and down.
“I know! I know!” he said. “The fish were like money back then, right? Because fishing was Peter’s job. Like our dad has a job building walls with cement.”
Mom smiled. “That’s right! So the fish were probably a blessing to Peter’s family, just like the money Dad earns is a blessing to us.”
This time, Brayden’s sister, Victoria, spoke up.
“Maybe they traded fish with a carpenter to get some furniture,” she said. “Joseph was a carpenter, right?”
Mom put her arm around Victoria and squeezed her shoulders. “Wow! You guys have some great ideas about this story. Let’s think of some of the blessings our family has. We already talked about one—that Dad has a job. What are some others?”
Making this list was easy.
“Our house!”
“Clothes!”
“Food!”
Brayden and Christian and Victoria were still calling out answers when they heard Dad open the door.
“You’re home!” Victoria said as she jumped into his arms.
Dad kissed the top of her head. “What are you kids up to?”
“We’re talking about blessing fish!” Brayden said.
Dad raised his eyebrows. “Sounds exciting! I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
That night Brayden and his family decided to start a new tradition. Every night after dinner, they would tell each other about new blessings they had noticed. Tonight, Mom even brought out a bowl of fish-shaped candy to eat while they shared.
Brayden smiled as he took a bite. Who knew that blessings could be so sweet?

My grandfather loves to tell my brothers and me stories about events in his life. Many of them are funny, others are scary, and I love them all. But the greatest story my grandfather ever told me has affected my testimony and my faith in the Church greatly. I still cry when he tells the story—even when I just think about it.
Before I was born my grandfather was a recent convert to the Church after many years of opposing it. He was a construction worker and would work on many sites, including the construction of large buildings.
Just one week after joining the Church, my grandfather was working on a building while 30 feet up in the sky. He was trying to get to one end of the building to do some work on the roof. In order to get to where he needed to go, my grandfather had to walk on a high beam hanging out over the ground. When my grandfather got about halfway onto the board it snapped, and my grandfather plummeted 30 feet onto the ground.
He was rushed to the emergency room. His neck was broken in three places, a lung was punctured, and a kidney was torn in half. Other parts of his body were ripped and bleeding. The doctors said he wouldn’t survive long enough to see the next day. During the whole ordeal my grandfather was still awake and in excruciating pain. He was sinking closer to death every second. Finally, my grandfather said he needed a blessing from a man with the priesthood.
Fortunately, a man who had helped my grandfather grow stronger in the Church had stayed home from work that day. When he received a call from the hospital stating that he was wanted there, he rushed to the emergency room and asked my grandfather what he needed.
My grandfather said, “I need a blessing.”
The man told him the doctors had said there was nothing more they could do to help my grandfather. But my grandfather shook his head and repeated that he needed a blessing. Finally the man agreed and gave my grandfather a blessing.
After the blessing, my grandfather relaxed. The pain finally having left him, he fell asleep. Several days passed, and my grandfather was released from the hospital.
When he went back for a checkup, his doctor had some surprising news. “You are a walking miracle,” he said. My grandfather had fully recovered from his deadly drop with no negative effects other than a few scars. The blessing from God that one man gave to my grandfather had saved his life and restored him to health.
When I first heard this story, I was too young to understand, but now that I am older, I understand it completely, and it has helped my testimony grow stronger. I know for a fact that through the priesthood, the Lord can heal those who truly ask for it in faith.
I will never forget the story, for I live with the walking miracle—my grandfather.