Gospel Story Finder

When the current edition of the LDS hymnbook was printed, the author of “There Is Beauty All Around” was unknown—neither composer nor author is listed. President David O. McKay, a great admirer of this hymn, asked J. Spencer Cornwall, who was then a member of the Church Music Committee, to find the name of its author.
Soon afterwards while Brother Cornwall was traveling on assignment to Montana, he heard on the car radio a male chorus singing “There Is Beauty All Around.” Reaching his destination he called the station to ask the name of the author and was referred to a station in New Jersey where the program had originated. He wrote that station and was promptly sent a pamphlet stating that John Hugh McNaughton was both the author and composer of “There Is Beauty All Around.”
This information was conveyed to President McKay who remarked that he was sorry it had not been written by a member of the Church but that he was very pleased to know, however, that those lovely words had been written by a Scotsman. (Personal reminiscence of J. Spencer Cornwall.)
SONG: “There Is Beauty All Around.” (Hymns, p. 169; male chorus and tenor solo.)

A year after my baptism in 1963 in Argentina, I was called to serve as branch clerk. One day I came across some blank family group records and pedigree charts. Without any training, I began filling out the sheets with the help of my mother. She remembered the names of her ancestors and my father’s, as well as the important dates in their lives, back to the fourth generation. She even remembered some of the people in the fifth generation and one person in the sixth.
I felt the desire to go further in my search, and I worked to verify the information my mother had given me. When I learned the purpose of family history work, I immediately began submitting to the temple the names of my deceased loved ones.
Though I had been successful on my mother’s line, I struggled with my father’s side. Despite my efforts, for close to 25 years I was unable to confirm the date of my paternal grandfather’s birth. His marriage certificate stated that he was born in Udine, Italy, so I wrote about 30 letters to that town and the surrounding towns. None of the replies confirmed what I was looking for.
In 1988 a branch of the family history library opened in Rosario, and I was called to work as a librarian. It felt like touching heaven, having all of that material within reach. I spent hours reading, and I ordered microfilm records from many cities. In the International Genealogical Index (IGI), I found the exact names of my grandfather and great-grandfather. I wrote to the town in Italy where the two men had been born and asked for their birth certificates. The parish priest sent them to me, but the records proved these men were not related to me.
I wrote again—asking this time if the priest had any information on my grandfather. He referred me to the city hall, so I wrote a letter there. My heart leaped with joy when I received a sheet of paper containing the names and important dates pertaining to my grandparents, great-grandparents, second great-grandparents, and many other family members. This sheet also told me that my grandfather’s name had been changed after his arrival in Argentina, explaining the confusion in finding his information.
I wrote to the city again and asked them to send me the sheet that preceded the one they had already sent. They did so, and it included the names of 27 more people. I had the temple ordinances done for all these family members, with the assurance that they were indeed my ancestors.
Because of wonderful experiences like these, I feel well rewarded for my efforts in doing family history research. Though there have been disappointments at times, I have not given up. I can see that Heavenly Father has surely led me in my search.
I know that our Heavenly Father will provide an opportunity for all of His children to receive temple ordinances, whether now or in the Millennium. But I also know that our ancestors who accept the gospel in the spirit world are longing for us to do our family history work. If we give our best efforts to the Lord, He will provide a way.

After young Gordon had been ordained a deacon, his father took him—somewhat unwillingly, he recalls—to a stake priesthood meeting. While his father as stake president took his place on the stand, Gordon sat on the back row. During the singing of the opening hymn, “Praise to the Man,” his attitude changed. “As I heard them sing that hymn with power and conviction, there came into my heart a witness of the divine calling of the boy Joseph, and I am grateful that the Lord has sustained that witness through more than seventy years since then” (Ensign, Nov. 1993, p. 51).

As one of the best center-forwards for his age, this ox-strong young man is said to have the ability to score from anywhere. Surprisingly, watching football (soccer) didn’t interest David when he was young. “My older brothers had to push me into playing with them to make up the numbers,” he remembers.

But by the age of 11, David’s talents for the sport were obvious. Selected as the best player in his school, David was chosen to play for his hometown of Bolton. As one of the best players for Bolton, he was picked by scouts to play for Oldham Athletic. When his four-year contract with Oldham ended, Manchester United couldn’t wait to snatch him up.

As the only Latter-day Saint on the team, he has the opportunity of raising his standards high. “The other players respect me for my beliefs. They don’t tease me about my social life when I don’t follow them to the pubs and booze-ups. They know that I don’t drink and respect that decision.”

In order to keep his testimony strong, David actively attends church each Sunday and weekday activities. “I’ve just been set apart as a stake missionary, and I serve as a home teacher,” he says. His work as a stake missionary should have a positive effect on those in the Manchester area—many of whom follow Manchester United and may recognize David.

The Church plays an important role in my life,” David says. “Participating in seminary helped build my testimony growing up.” Arising at 6:00 A.M. daily, David studied early-morning seminary for four years. His mother, who has taught seminary for 13 years, taught his older brothers with him.

“My brothers set good examples and uplift me,” says David. The strong bond that is so obvious between the Brown brothers likely results from sharing the same room growing up. They wrestle and tease each other as brothers do, but their teamwork is apparent. They care for each other and desire to see each other succeed. One by one, his three older brothers have left to serve missions: Bryce to Oklahoma, Gary to London, England, and Paul to Leeds, England. As each brother graduated from seminary and left to serve a mission, the class became smaller. By his final year of seminary, David was the only student in his mother’s class. However, it didn’t stop him. He knew the importance of grounding his testimony firmly in the scriptures.

As his teacher and mother, Sister Brown has seen David’s testimony develop. “He’s got courage to live the gospel no matter what anyone else says,” she declares.

A favorite scripture that keeps David strong in the face of adversity is Doctrine and Covenants 82:10 [D&C 82:10]: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” David says, “I know that when I apply this in my life, everything else will fall into place.”

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sundays, David decided at the age of 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience. “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and scored thirty-two goals.” This earned him the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”

David enjoys spending the little free time he has relaxing at home with his parents and brothers. He says, “My best friends are my brothers.” They are all close in age: Bryce is 25, Gary is 22, Paul is 21, David is 18, and Stephen is 15. With no other priesthood holders between the ages of 15 and 20 in their ward, they encourage each other to be active in the gospel.

David finds a good balance between church and football. A key to success is hard work. His mum recalls how independent David wished to be as a boy. “He has always been a worker,” she says. “Whether it was homework or seminary booklets, he would just get on with it without being nagged. David coined the phrase in our house: ‘I’ll do it on me own,’ for which we always tease him. David has the ability to work hard at whatever he does.”

For others who are striving for success in their chosen careers, David offers the following advice: “Try hard in anything you want to do, and always put the Lord first.” His determination to be a star football player has set him on a course for greatness. He wants to develop the athletic talents he’s been given. By following the examples set by his brothers, parents, and team members, David will keep his eyes focused on his goals—both spiritual and physical.

He will do what he does best, stay on the ball.

Upholding the standards of the Church is a daily goal for Sister Hermin of the Djakarta Selatan Branch, who has had to support her three boys alone. She was an inactive member of a Protestant church when a Latter-day Saint relative asked her if she would like to hear the gospel message.

“Her question reminded me of something that had happened ten years earlier when I was twenty years old,” says Sister Hermin. “I had asked my mother then where I could learn of the gospel of Jesus Christ. My mother had told me to be patient because the day would come, she said, when one or two people would come to my home to teach me the gospel.

“I was baptized a member of the Church in December 1985, three months after I first met the missionaries. I was married by then and had one son, Mindo. He and my husband later joined the Church.”

Eventually, a second son, Nando, was born, who joined the Church when he was old enough. Their third child, a daughter, died when she was a year old.

Losing a struggle with alcohol, Sister Hermin’s husband was unable to support his family and fell away from the Church. Sister Hermin became the family provider by selling watermelon from a street cart—something she still does. Her husband died in 1989, while she was expecting their third son, Martin.

With her three boys, she lives in a small, two-room shack sandwiched between some dilapidated shops at the edge of a busy road. She supplements her income by renting out her small home in another part of the neighborhood.

Striving to make the shack livable and a haven from the noisy world outside is a challenge. Once, a section of the shack collapsed, but her branch president helped her make repairs.

“The branch members are always available to help me if I need it,” she says. “But my greatest help comes from being active in the Church. I enjoy the lesson material, and I appreciate the spiritual education that the boys receive. My boys have been through some hard times, but their attitude toward life is good because of our activity in the Church. And family home evening isn’t just one day a week with us. We get together almost every night and read the scriptures and sing together.

“I know from experience that whenever I feel sad or troubled, if I read the scriptures and sing some hymns, my burden will be lifted, and I will be happy again.”

When I first arrived in Indonesia in 1976 I met a group of pioneers in central Java who helped me understand much, much more about the meaning of words such as relief, compassion, and service. These Relief Society sisters, led by their president, Ibu Subowo, were giant souls in small bodies. Every morning before they began their cooking, each sister would hold back a spoonful of rice. They kept the rice in plastic bags that they brought to Relief Society each week. After the meeting, they would gather and prayerfully consider who needed a visit. All would then go together to visit those in need, taking the bags of rice with them to share with those who had less than they did.

Consecration. The Lord’s storehouse. A society of interdependent Saints. I learned much about sacrifice, wondering what my equivalent of a spoonful of rice would be.

Michael G. (right), age 11, from Panama, loves his karate classes and studies hard in school. Once he got to be “principal for a day” at his school because of his good grades.
Michael is already a courageous missionary. When the Church had an information stand at the international fair near his home, Michael and his parents stood at the entrance of the fair, gave people pamphlets about the Church, and invited them to visit the Church’s stand. He also gave a pass-along card to a friend’s family, and the missionaries taught them about the Church. He is looking forward to being a full-time missionary.

I served as a young missionary for several months in the central areas of Lima, Peru. As a result, I crossed Lima’s Plaza de Armas many times. The Government Palace, the official residence and office of Peru’s president, faces the plaza. My companions and I invited people in the plaza to hear the restored gospel. I often wondered then what it would be like to enter the palace, but the thought of ever doing so seemed wildly remote.
Last year, Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, a few others, and I met with Alan García, then the president of Peru, in the Government Palace. We were shown its beautiful rooms and cordially received by President García. My young missionary wonderings about the palace were fulfilled in a way that I would never have dreamed possible in 1970.

A group of Laurels and priests in one Wisconsin ward also wanted the opportunity to have a formal dance with high standards. So in 2009 they invited youth from their stake and a neighboring stake for a formal dance at their ward building. The night was a success, and the stake leaders decided to hold it again in future years. They moved the location to a bigger venue, and it’s continued to grow. Last year, 250 youth from four stakes attended the dance.
Because of the less-than-wholesome environment at their school proms, many of the youth in the area now consider this prom as their only prom. Some even turn down invitations to school proms and instead invite their school friends to attend their prom.
Before attending the dance, all of the youth meet with a bishop and sign a dance card saying they will uphold the standards. No one has ever had a problem with this commitment.
Stephen P. says the prom was an amazing experience: “Being able to not worry about immoral music or dancing was an incredible burden off my shoulders,” he says. “It allowed my friends and me to just be able to enjoy ourselves. The leaders who helped plan it did a fantastic job making sure everyone was included and their needs were taken care of. I actually chose to go to the ‘Mormon prom’ instead of my school prom because I knew our prom would have a more positive environment and the Spirit would always be with us.”

I started sharing my testimony on social media when I was a teenager. But it was easier back then to stand up for my beliefs. At the time, most of my friends were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and shared similar values to mine. Social media was different too. People were less inclined to tear others down. If they didn’t agree with you, they would simply scroll away.
That all changed as I entered young adulthood. Suddenly people had issues with my beliefs, and many of my friends were choosing paths contrary to the teachings of the gospel. And when one of the Apostles was being torn down all over social media, I was shocked that I couldn’t see anyone defending him.
So I did.
Over the next week, I received threats and hateful messages from strangers and friends alike about my post. I cried every day. I wondered if I had done the right thing. I even felt a bit like I’d been abandoned by God. After all, I’d tried to stand up for His Apostle, and I’d received nothing but hate.
But I held on. I didn’t take down the post.
Slowly, the narrative changed. Yes, I was still on the receiving end of those hurtful messages, but to my surprise, others started to stand with me. I watched as members from around the world supportively shared my post. My gratitude for not being alone soon turned to humility as I realized that finally, the good messages outweighed the bad. God had not abandoned me. Instead, He’d sent more disciples to stand beside me.

An elder in our mission has had some pretty serious health problems. He has a skin allergy, bronchial problems, and sinus problems. When I arrived in the mission, he was sleeping in to avoid becoming weak and catching the flu. Then when he came in for lunch, he was sleeping for a couple of hours to keep from catching a cold or the flu. His companion was frustrated and called me.
I called the elder’s doctor. He said, “Well, his condition is bad, but it’s better than it was when he came into the mission field. It’s not going to change much no matter how many hours he works.” I called the elder into the office and suggested that I would rather see him sick with the flu legitimately than always worrying about it. I discussed with him the principle of suffering in silence, of simply going to work and doing what the Lord had called him to do. I said, “The doctor says your condition isn’t going to change no matter how much or how little you do. We’ve done and are doing all we can do. Why don’t you learn to suffer in silence?”
Bless his great heart, he took the counsel and put it into practice. He has become one of the top missionaries in the mission. He was made a training senior companion and then a district leader, all within about six weeks. What a great missionary he is now! He discovered how to suffer in silence and do the work. He is a great example of self-denial.

Lately I have been thinking of a time in my life when the weight of worry and concern over an uncertain future seemed ever present. I was 11 years old and living with my family in the attic of a farmhouse near Frankfurt, Germany. We were refugees for the second time in a period of only a few years, and we were struggling to establish ourselves in a new place far away from our previous home. I could say that we were poor, but that would be an understatement. We all slept in one room that was so tiny there was scarcely space to walk around the beds. In the other small room, we had a few pieces of modest furniture and a stove that Mother used to cook meals on. To get from one room to the other, we had to pass through a storage area where the farmer kept his equipment and tools, along with assorted meats and sausages hanging from the rafters. The aroma always made me very hungry. We had no bathroom, but we did have an outhouse—down the stairs and some 50 feet (15 m) away, though it seemed much farther during wintertime.
Because I was a refugee and because of my East German accent, other children often made fun of me and called me names that deeply hurt. Of all the times of my youth, I believe this may have been the most discouraging.
Now, decades later, I can look back on those days through the softening filter of experience. Even though I still remember the hurt and despair, I can see now what I was unable to see then: this was a period of great personal growth. During this time, our family bonded together. I watched and learned from my parents. I admired their determination and optimism. From them I learned that adversity, when confronted with faith, courage, and tenacity, could be overcome.

Members from the Brandon Florida Stake, an area near Tampa, were on the phone with members in the Port Charlotte Ward as soon as they heard Port Charlotte was receiving the brunt of the storm. They arrived before relief workers had time to set up camp, so they began clearing the grounds around the meetinghouse using tools and machinery from the local Church farm. They then went to members’ homes to assess their needs.

All members in all areas of Florida were accounted for with no reports of injury, though some lost their homes. All missionaries were evacuated before the storm hit, but they later returned to help in the relief efforts. At least seven meetinghouses were damaged, but repairs are underway or already completed.

While the member volunteers helped clear people’s property, counselors from LDS Family Services in Salt Lake City were helping clear people’s minds. “In these abnormal situations a lot of what we do is reestablish family patterns and instill hope in the community,” Doug LeCheminant, program specialist for LDS Family Services, said. They have also helped in such situations as the September 11 tragedy and the Kosovo refugee crisis.

With the knowledge that her little brother had leukemia, Michelle went to Bear River High School sad and despondent. She struggled through the school day, grateful when the dismissal bell rang. As she collected her books, a friend approached, “Michelle, come into the music room with me.” Half-heartedly, Michelle accompanied her. Entering the music room, she was surprised to find the entire a cappella choir. In the straightforward manner of youth, they told Michelle they had been fasting for her little brother and wanted her to join them as they prayed together to end their fast.
Emerson said it well: “Serve, and thou shalt be served. If you love and serve men, you cannot, by any hiding or stratagem, escape the remuneration.” (“The Sovereignty of Ethics,” in The Complete Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, New York: Wm. H. Wise & Co., 1929, p. 1004.)
Those we serve, we love. We discover that loving someone else deeply is one of the most joyous feelings we can know, and we begin to understand the bounteous love our Father in Heaven has for us.

This was around the time our adult children were starting to come home for Sunday dinners with their spouses. During the week, I found myself making lists in my mind of things I could remind them of on Sunday, like “Maybe try and help out more with the kids when you’re home” or “Don’t forget to be a good listener.”

When I read Brother Maxwell’s comment, I threw away the lists and silenced that critical voice, so when I saw my grown children for that brief time each week, I focused on the many positive things they were already doing. When our oldest son, Ryan, passed away a few years later, I remember being grateful our time together was happier and more positive.

How blessed we are to have a living prophet in these last days. What a life-stirring compass is the First Presidency Message by President Gordon B. Hinckley in the May 1999 Liahona (English). This message, “Life’s Obligations,” is so rich and touching. It has strengthened my testimony of the living prophet of God. I spend time every day reading portions of this message.
On one occasion, I went to a restaurant and took this message with me. One of my clients asked to read it. After reading it, he asked for a copy of it. This man confessed that the message is “inspired and really applies to present-day life.”
Attah Frederick,Bauchi Branch, Jos Nigeria District

Wade remembers making the mistake of asking his brother for advice on what to wear the first day of junior high. “If you really want to make an impression,” his brother told him, “wear a suit and tie.” Wade believed him, donned the suggested attire, and set out for school. When he realized his mistake, he wanted to go home and kick his brother.
Even with such an embarrassing start, Wade managed to have a decent year. He realized that what you wear is not half as important to other people as it is to you. Most people hardly notice.

Richard M. Romney, Utah, USA
When those planning our ward Christmas social asked me to visit a certain less-active member and invite him to participate in the program, I have to admit I was nervous. I had met Darren only once before, when he had participated in an earlier ward activity. He had worn a motorcycle headband across his forehead. His long white hair was tied in a ponytail, he had a full white beard, and his arms were covered with tattoos.
Now, accompanied by a committee member, I was standing on Darren’s doorstep, wondering what he might say. He asked us to step inside, and we told him why we were there. He said, “Oh, I’d love to do that!”
He did an amazing job, helping to make the activity meaningful for so many. A short time later, my ministering companion and I were asked to visit Darren regularly. He always seems glad to see us, and we’ve had some delightful conversations. I’m grateful the inspiration to invite him to participate in the program of a ward activity led to a cherished relationship.

I used to think I was an incurable procrastinator. Finally, things got so backed up that it was impossible, so I went to a teacher. We set up a program that would severely affect my grade if I didn’t keep up with it. I set deadlines for small portions of big assignments to force myself to start working on them before the night before they were due. Luckily for me, it worked.
I’m still working on it, but look, I got this letter mailed in on time!
Tami Anderson, 16Roanoke, Virginia

The sun hung low against the blue-white horizon of the Wasatch Mountains. It was late in the afternoon. The temperature was dropping, and to the west, storm clouds drew a dark curtain of gray. In a small basin near the top peaks a line of backpackers on snowshoes crossed through a maze of snow-feathered trees. It was December, months past the season for backpacking and camping in the mountains. A deep layer of snow, hardened by the cold and polished by wind, covered the earth and low bushes. The sound of backpackers walking in the crusted snow echoed in the basin.
The backpackers, members of Sandy Utah East Stake’s Summiteers, an advanced camping program for girls, stopped in a clearing. One of the girls, Susie Bigelow, wearing sun glasses for protection against snow glare, looked around and took off her pack.
“This looks like a good place,” she said.
Dallan Sohm, a priesthood adviser for the group and the husband of one of the Young Women leaders present, looked the area over.
“The snow’s deep enough for the shelter,” he said. “But we’ve got to hurry and get it built before dark.”
As they worked, shadows of frosted-white pines grew long and silver-gray in fading light. Icicles hanging from the trees caught the last rays from a pale sunset and sparkled like polished topaz. The temperature dropped with the sun. The girls’ cheeks were bright red in the freezing air.
They dug a rectangular pit in the snow, arched their snowshoes over it, and covered them with sheets of plastic. They added pine poles for additional strength. Tunnels were dug on both sides for entrance and ventilation. The shelter’s floor was covered with plastic, then with foam pads, and sleeping bags were laid out on top.
Finally the shelter was ready. It wasn’t very comfortable or even very warm, but it was warm enough to keep the group from freezing.
Above the basin, high winds tore clouds that fogged the mountain and left them ragged. In the basin there was no wind, and only the girls’ voices broke the cold stillness.
Looking back to the west the girls, all between 16 and 18 years old, knew the stillness in the basin wouldn’t last. The high wind was moving the storm east, toward their camp. They knew that before morning there would be snow falling in the basin—deep, fresh, powder snow. It was snow that would send cross-country skiers and snowmobilers down the mountain to warm cabins. The Summiteers stayed. This was why they had come high into the mountains in December, to learn winter survival and winter camping. They were ready for the storm and the cold.
One member of the group, Koryl Thornwall, later explained that the Sandy Utah East Stake follows the camp certification program developed for the Young Women organization of the Church. This program includes a four-year camp training program and a fifth Summiteer year for those who want further camping experience.
“The Summiteer program is for those who want to develop advanced camping skills. The winter camp is the climax in the program,” she explained.
The girls in the winter camp were all experienced campers. During the previous summer they had gone on a hundred-mile canoe trip down Idaho’s Snake River.
“We know what it is like to be out in the rain and wind,” Koryl said. “But winter camping is something new for us.”
Months before the winter campout the members of the group began preparing for the trip. They held classes on winter survival, learning about the dangers of cold weather and how to prepare for it. They learned how to prevent frostbite, hypothermia (a rapid drop in body temperature), and snowblindness, how to build simple shelters, how to dress to keep warm and dry, and what foods to eat.
During the campout they put what they had learned into action. After building the shelter and after a meal of high energy foods and hot chocolate, they crawled into their sleeping bags. Night came fast and dark. A small but icy wind started and grew in intensity. Inside the shelter it was crowded, but all were protected from the freezing night air.
In the morning they woke to find several inches of fresh snow, bright, sparkling, and satin white. After brushing it off their equipment, they cooked hot oatmeal for breakfast. Afterwards, they took the shelter apart, loaded equipment and supplies into their packs, and started down the mountain. By late afternoon they reached the road. Several parents were waiting with cars. The winter campout was over. The Summiteers had learned some new camping skills and grown closer to each other in the process. And once again they had come to appreciate the magnificence of their Father’s creations and the depth of his love for them.
They packed their equipment into the cars and were ready to leave. Then one of the girls looked back up the mountain and said, “Hey, next month how about a cross-country ski trip?”