Gospel Story Finder

During Primary sharing time, Sister Keddington held up a picture of Jesus with the ten lepers.
Shaun knew the story. It was one of his mother’s favorites, and she told it often in family home evening.
“Who can tell us this story?” Sister Keddington asked.
Shaun raised his hand. “Jesus healed ten men who had leprosy. But only one remembered to thank Jesus for curing him. The other nine walked away without saying anything.”
“How do you think that made Jesus feel?” Sister Keddington asked.
“Sad,” Shaun said.
Sister Keddington nodded. “I think Jesus felt very sad when the other nine men walked away without thanking Him.”
Shaun thought about last Sunday when his mother had asked him to write a thank-you note to his grandparents for the birthday gift they had sent him. Shaun had been too busy playing with his new game to take time to write them.
Then he thought about Jesus’s disappointment with the men who didn’t show their gratitude to Him. Was that how his grandparents felt because he hadn’t bothered to thank them for their gift?
His grandparents lived almost 2,000 miles away. Shaun didn’t get to see them very often, but he knew that they loved him, just as he loved them. His grandma wrote him every week, and his grandpa always had a new joke to tell Shaun when they phoned each Sunday night.
After Shaun’s family got home from church, he didn’t stop in the kitchen for a snack as he usually did. He hurried to his room and pulled out a notebook of lined paper.
Shaun spent a long time writing the note to his grandparents, making his letters in neat cursive. He thanked them for the gift and told them how much he loved them.
When he finished, he read the letter again. Satisfied with it, he ran downstairs and found his mother. “Mom, do you have an envelope and stamp I can use? I wrote the thank-you note to Grandma and Grandpa.”
His mother smiled. “I know they’ll be glad to get it.”
With her help, Shaun addressed the envelope and slipped the letter inside.
“There’s someone else who deserves our gratitude as well,” his mother said.
Shaun knew she meant Heavenly Father. Before Shaun went to sleep that night, he knelt by his bed and thanked Heavenly Father for the many blessings He gave Shaun and his family every day.

During construction of the Rio de Janeiro Brazil Temple, I walked by it nearly every day. I would tell my friends, “One day, I’m going to get married in this building.”
“Man, you say the same thing every day!” they said.
I said it every day because I knew that the temple was getting closer to being completed, and I wanted to remind myself to keep doing the right things so that our family could be sealed together. This is the desire of my heart.

A young woman found that she had developed a spirit of criticism. She felt that this was hampering her spiritual growth. As she partook of the sacrament, she promised the Lord that she would not criticize anyone in her family for one week.

Each week she renewed her effort and asked for the Spirit to be with her. She overcame this weakness, though it was not easy and progress was slow. Her friends now use her as an example of one who never speaks unkindly of others.

When I was a boy, I remember my father sometimes taking me with him to work on projects. We had a little garden a few kilometers from where we lived, and there was always so much to do to prepare the garden each season. We worked on the gazebo or built or repaired fences. In my memory this work always occurred in the freezing cold, heavy snow, or pouring rain. But I loved it. My father would teach me how to do things with patience and acceptance.
One day he invited me to tighten a screw and warned, “Remember, if you put it in too tight, it will break.” Proudly, I wanted to show him what I could do. I tightened with all my might, and, of course, I broke the screw. He made a funny comment, and we started over. Even when I “messed up,” I always felt his love and confidence in me. He passed away more than 10 years ago, but I can still hear his voice, sense his love, enjoy his encouragement, and feel his acceptance.

In 1989, Elder Haight became critically ill and was rushed to the hospital. He reported in the October 1989 general conference that while unconscious, he found himself “in a calm, peaceful setting … conscious of two persons in the distance on a hillside. …

“I heard no voices but was conscious of being in a holy presence and atmosphere. During the hours and days that followed, there was impressed again and again upon my mind the eternal mission and exalted position of the Son of Man. I witness to you that He is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, Savior to all, Redeemer of all mankind, Bestower of infinite love, mercy, and forgiveness, the Light and Life of the world. I knew this truth before—I had never doubted nor wondered. But now I knew, because of the impressions of the Spirit upon my heart and soul, these divine truths in a most unusual way” (Ensign, November 1989, 59–60).

Politicians began worrying over this new phenomenon. Enemies were organizing, and the Prophet’s life was becoming endangered. After months of imprisonment in the dark, damp dungeon known as Liberty Jail, a discouraged Joseph cried out to the Lord:

O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, . . . behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, . . .
Yea, O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions, before thine heart shall be softened toward them. [D&C 121:1–3]

Then a loving, answering Savior promised Joseph:

The ends of the earth shall inquire after thy name, and fools shall have thee in derision, and hell shall rage against thee;
While the pure in heart, and the wise, and the noble, and the virtuous, shall seek counsel, and authority, and blessings constantly from under thy hand.
And thy people shall never be turned against thee by the testimony of traitors.
. . . Thou shalt be had in honor; . . . and thy voice shall be more terrible in the midst of thine enemies than the fierce lion, because of thy righteousness; and thy God shall stand by thee forever and ever. [D&C 122:1–4]

A ribbon of black asphalt wends its way through the mountains of northern Utah into the valley of the Great Salt Lake, then meanders southward on its appointed course. Interstate Highway 15 is its official name. This super-freeway carries the output of factories, the products of commerce, and masses of humanity toward appointed destinations.
I remember a time when driving to my home years ago, I approached the entrance to Interstate 15. At the on-ramp I noticed three hitchhikers, each one of whom carried a homemade sign that announced his desired destination. One sign read “Los Angeles, California,” while a second carried the designation “Boise, Idaho.” However, it was the third sign that not only caught my attention, but also caused me to reflect and ponder its message. The hitchhiker had lettered not Los Angeles, nor Boise, on the cardboard sign he held aloft. Rather, his sign consisted of but one word and read simply “Anywhere.”
Here was one who was content to travel in any direction, according to the whim of the driver who stopped to give him a free ride. What an enormous price to pay for such a ride! No plan. No objective. No goal. The road to anywhere is the road to nowhere, and the road to nowhere leads to dreams sacrificed, opportunities squandered, and a life unfulfilled.

There is the story of two neighboring farmers—one a habitual Sabbath breaker, and the other a faithful observer of the Lord’s day. On one occasion the Sabbath observer severely chastised his neighbor for working his farm on Sundays rather than attending to his religious devotions. This led to an argument and a challenge. “Let us put the matter to a test,” the Sabbath breaker said. “We will select two pieces of ground of equal size and fertility. On them we will plant the same crop. My piece of ground I will work on Sundays, and you will work yours on the other days of the week. Then we will see who gets the greater harvest.”

The challenge was accepted and the conditions were faithfully observed. As the harvest was gathered in, the Sabbath-observing farmer was disappointed to learn that the piece of ground farmed by his neighbor had produced the greater yield. The Sabbath breaker exulted in his apparent triumph and his discrediting of the contention of his faithful neighbor.

“You have forgotten one important thing,” protested the Sabbath observer. “The Lord doesn’t always settle his accounts in October.”

For example, years ago, on a small island in Tonga there lived an elderly sister by the name of Vaikato Tavutu. One day a group of Tongan building missionaries came to the island to erect a chapel. After they arrived, they discovered that this sister knew all the details for the design and layout of the building. The missionaries could not understand how she knew all this without ever seeing the blueprints. It turns out that decades before the building missionaries arrived, Sister Tavutu was experiencing an illness when the apostle, George Albert Smith, visited the tiny island and gave Sister Tavutu a priesthood blessing.

During the blessing sister Tavutu said she was able to understand all the words in her own tongue and he promised her that if she would be faithful, she would live to see a beautiful chapel erected on her island. She saw this chapel in a vision and saw that it would have a “gold steeple that shone in the sunlight.”

The supervising labor missionary went on to say:

“One day [many years after her vision, Sister Tavutu] became very ill. Her brother went to her and told her she had better repent of her sins and confess her lies [about her vision about the chapel which had never come]. He told her she knew that she had told lies all those years and now she was going to die with that on her conscience. Well, Vaikato recovered; and after many years, her vision was fulfilled.

“Vaikato was not certain of her age but thought she might be 102 or so. She was on the work site each morning helping to fill the barrels with water with which to mix the mortar; she was also carrying the coral bricks to the builders. I spoke to her through an interpreter and told her not to carry the water. The buckets were too heavy for her and the men could do it. I also asked her to please only carry one brick at a time, as they were about the size of our cinder blocks. However, as soon as I was out of sight, she started carrying two bricks at a time again. One of the Tongan builders came to me and asked for some gloves for Vaikato because her hands were bleeding from the rough blocks. I got down from the scaffold and went to the lady, admonishing her again through the interpreter to only carry one brick at a time. I took off my gloves and gave them to her.

“The tears started running down Vaikato’s cheeks, and I thought I had wounded her feelings. Then I noticed the tears rolling down the interpreter’s face. He told me: ‘The little lady said that the Savior’s hands had bled for her and that she was not ashamed to have her hands bleed for the Savior’s work.’” (Eric Shumway, Tongan Saints: Legacy of Faith, 178-180).

I was playing an online restaurant game late one night when my husband walked by and announced that he was going to bed.
“I’ll be right in,” I told him.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said.
I was playing a game in which I cooked virtual food in a virtual restaurant for virtual customers. I looked at the computer screen and said, “Actually, I have food coming up in 15 minutes.”
To pass the time while I waited, I picked up Daughters in My Kingdom: The History and Work of Relief Society, which had lain on the desk since I had received it in Relief Society. I began reading the preface. On the third page I found the following by Belle S. Spafford, ninth Relief Society general president.
“The average woman today, I believe,” she wrote, “would do well to appraise her interests, evaluate the activities in which she is engaged, and then take steps to simplify her life, putting things of first importance first, placing emphasis where the rewards will be greatest and most enduring, and ridding herself of the less rewarding activities” (2011, xiii).
Other than the scriptures, never has anything I have read touched me so deeply. This woman who died more than 30 years ago was speaking to me. Her words are likely more relevant today than when she said them.
I knew immediately that I would never play online games again. I turned off the computer, went to bed, and told my husband of my decision. The next day I did not even turn on the computer. Instead, I figured out how many hours I had wasted on those games every day.
I multiplied three hours a day by 365 (days in a year) and divided by 24 (hours in a day). I was stunned to learn that I had wasted 45.62 days per year. Those precious hours and days are gone forever. I could have spent them reading my scriptures, spending time with my husband and children, serving others, or magnifying my callings.
General Authorities often address this subject during general conference. Yet it had never hit home, and I thought it did not apply to me.
I am grateful that the Holy Ghost helped me recognize that the General Authorities—and Belle S. Spafford—were speaking to me.

When our son Joshua was 18 months old, we noticed strange things in his behavior. Josh could recite almost every word of each song in the television shows he watched, but he was late learning to speak. One day my mother-in-law said that Josh showed signs of autism. Specialists told us the same thing.
My wife, Elizabeth, immersed herself in literature about autism. She also enrolled Josh in programs to help him. She was determined that he have the best possible start in life we could give him.
On days I stressed over the future, Elizabeth would calm me down. She told me that we needed to take things one day at a time.
“We need to appreciate every new thing Josh learns instead of focusing on all of the unknowns of the future,” she said.
As he grew, Josh became unruly at church. To keep him from disrupting Primary or harming children, I held him on my lap. He struggled, scratched, and wrestled with me for all three hours of church. I often came home bruised and exhausted.
“Why don’t we just leave him home from church and take turns staying with him?” I suggested.
“If we don’t continue taking him,” Elizabeth replied, “he will learn that if he acts out, he gets to leave church.” I knew she was right.
One day the mother of another family with an autistic child told me, “When Josh turns eight and gets the Holy Ghost, he’ll sweeten right up!”
I doubted her words, but when he turned eight, he received the Holy Ghost and did sweeten up—a little.
When Josh got older, he received the priesthood. He passed the sacrament, and he learned the importance of service. Members of his priesthood quorum learned a dance to an ’80s music video with Josh and performed it at a ward party.
Our ward was wonderful to Josh. Members smiled when he would pass the sacrament while doing a few ’80s dance moves.
Josh is 17 now. He is a talented musician who writes songs. He loves acting and appears regularly in school and community theater.
We are grateful to be Josh’s parents and share in his journey. We are not sure what the future holds, but we are committed to fully live each day with him.

President Thomas S. Monson tells of a Robert Blatchford who, 100 years ago “in his book God and My Neighbor, attacked with vigor accepted Christian beliefs, such as God, Christ, prayer, and immortality. He boldly asserted, ‘I claim to have proved everything I set out to prove so fully and decisively that no Christian, however great or able he may be, can answer my arguments or shake my case.’ He surrounded himself with a wall of skepticism. Then a surprising thing happened. His wall suddenly crumbled to dust. … Slowly he began to feel his way back to the faith he had scorned and ridiculed. What had caused this profound change in his outlook? His wife [had] died. With a broken heart, he went into the room where lay all that was mortal of her. He looked again at the face he loved so well. Coming out, he said to a friend: ‘It is she, and yet it is not she. Everything is changed. Something that was there before is taken away. She is not the same. What can be gone if it be not the soul?’”35

When I came to my new school I did not have any friends either for a long time. I was very unhappy and began to wonder what I was doing wrong. I read scriptures and learned that Jesus Christ is the very best friend I can ever get. I also began to think in a positive way and said nice things to people. At first they just smiled at me, but now I have a lot more friends than I ever expected.
Naomi Hartzheim, 17,Dusseldorf, Germany

One day last summer, Spencer J. was riding home from a summer vacation with his parents and family when he decided that the time in the car was perfect for planning some of his goals for the upcoming year. He and his family came up with a great list of goals that would help him plan for school, work on getting in better shape, and fulfill his duty to God.
His goals for school included working hard to get straight A’s, befriending people at school who seem lonely, and tutoring a student who is struggling in classes. He also wanted to run for an Arizona State President of Student Government, which he was later elected to. That goal could have been intimidating because he had to give a speech in front of 2,000 people. But, as Spencer says, “It would be an awesome experience to talk to other states about what they are doing with their student governments.”
Spencer wanted to get in better physical shape. He decided to make a goal to ride his bike at least four miles about three days a week to prepare for a mission. Then he listed that he would like to run two miles at least once a week. He also would participate with the track and tennis teams.
As a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, Spencer worked with his quorum leaders to set a goal to help make the sacrament more meaningful by being prepared to bless the sacrament, saying the prayers with more feeling, and inviting others who don’t often participate in the blessing of the sacrament to bless it with him.
Carrying out these personal goals has made Spencer happier, healthier, and more prepared for the challenges and opportunities he will face in the future.

During the years she lived in my parents’ home, she told us Church history and scripture stories at bedtime. The way Grandmother spoke of Jesus Christ, I knew she loved Him. One afternoon my cousin and I went into Grandmother’s room for a visit. She looked at us thoughtfully.
“Now, children, I’m going to die pretty soon,” she said. “And when I’m gone, I know you will feel sad. But I don’t want you to cry too much. I will be with Jesus and with your Grandpa Amacher, you know.” Grandma’s faith helped me come to know Jesus Christ.

Parley P. Pratt records a time when he was much troubled because of a severe censure from a Church leader that he felt was unjustified. He came to the Prophet and laid it on him. One of the Prophet’s gifts was that he was a powerful listener—and although that phrase might seem like a contradiction in terms, it is not. There are listeners who are weak as water, not listening at all, not hearing, not interpreting from the center self. Joseph listened powerfully. And to Elder Pratt he now listened sympathetically. Then he blessed him, encouraged him, and added, “Walk such things under your feet.” Meaning, of course, “It’s trivial by comparison with your calling—don’t let it wear you down.” Elder Pratt recorded: “I was comforted, encouraged, filled with new life.”47

Percy “Chappy” Winstanley, who presided over the first Durban stake created in 1981 and came up from Johannesburg to attend the Durban dedication, recalled Church members putting their lives on the line regularly—sometimes in helping with routine meetings and activities.
“We had a high councilor down in the Eastern Cape who would have to run the gauntlet of rioters throwing rocks at his car to go open the meetinghouse in the morning,” he said. “Then he would have to go back [to lock the building], and here came the rocks again.”

We are all aware of Hurricane Mitch, which devastated Nicaragua and Honduras last October and November. With terrific force it flooded homes and caused mud slides. More than 10,000 people died and another two million were left homeless. This very strong hurricane destroyed homes and covered streets with mud that seemed as hard as cement.

Almost immediately the Church began sending life-sustaining food, clothing, medicine, and blankets to help both members of the Church and those of other faiths. Once the shipments arrived at their destination, Church members came by the hundreds to unload the trucks and assemble the supplies into boxes. The items in each box would sustain a family for a week.

Our dear President Gordon B. Hinckley, who is the chairman of the General Welfare Committee, felt troubled by the suffering in Central America. One sleepless night he felt a prompting to go and offer his love and support to those who had endured this great loss. The prophet’s visit lifted the spirits and gave hope to thousands. “As long as [the Church] has any resources,” he told them, “we will stand by you in times of trouble.” And I testify to you, brothers and sisters, that he truly is a prophet of God. And I sustain him with all my heart.

In 1991 Larisa Deeva served as a hostess for two Young Ambassadors on their tour to Riga, Latvia. She recognized the Spirit in the lives of these young men and wanted that spirit to be a part of her life. As she received a copy of the Book of Mormon in Russian from her guests, she proudly displayed it right next to the Bible in her home.

In a letter to Young Ambassador Richard Higbee, Larisa wrote in halting English:
I don’t know how to thank you for all that you have done for me. I am so very glad met you. I am happy found fine friends. It was unforgettably for me! I was visit the paradise with you. I have believed in God! You have agitated my excite! . . . You have given back me sense in life. I wasn’t know why and what for I lived. And you present me wings! [Letter to Richard Higbee from Larisa Deeva, 1990]

Sister Deeva was baptized on August 22, 1992. In a subsequent letter to Richard Higbee, Larisa wrote:
In August of last year I was baptized. I was the first member in the Church here in Riga. Now there are approximately 30 members in this branch. I play the piano in our ward. Now I have God in my life, and He helps me deal with all of my struggles. I know that this church is true and know that our Heavenly Father loves us. [Letter to Richard Higbee from Larisa Deeva, 1993]

As the Young Ambassadors returned to Latvia to present a fireside for the new Riga Branch on May 30, 1993, we were pleased to learn that Sister Deeva had been sustained as president of the Relief Society. Larisa Deeva found the truth, was nourished by its power, and with great eagerness made the choice to follow the light.

My best friend Brad and I sat in his front yard, lost in conversation. He had just found out that his parents were getting a divorce, and we had spent the last several hours talking about the problems he was facing.
Then I looked down at my watch. It was past 1:00 A.M. “Oh no,” I said as I jumped to my feet, “I was supposed to be home by midnight. My dad’s gonna kill me.” I wished Brad luck in the coming days, said good-bye, and jogged the five blocks to my house.
The front porch light was still on—a bad sign. It meant Dad was waiting up for me.
I opened the front door cautiously and stepped inside. “Do you know what time it is?” boomed his voice from the living room.
“Dad, I’m really sorry. See, Brad just found out …”
“It’s after 1:00. Didn’t I tell you to be home by midnight?”
“Yeah, but …”
“There are no ‘buts’ about it. You’re more than an hour late.” He was shaking with anger. “You won’t be going out for a while, young man.”
I didn’t like being convicted without a trial. “That’s not fair. At least give me a chance to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” he snapped. “You’re late. That’s all there is to it. Now get to bed.”
“C’mon,” I argued, “it’s not fair.”
Our conversation deteriorated from there as Dad and I traded accusations. He never listened, I said. I had no respect, he said. And so it went.
By the time I finally did go to bed, I was too upset to sleep. I was worried about Brad, and I was frustrated that I couldn’t talk to my dad about it. I wished things were different, that I could have come home and told him about Brad’s parents. But instead of talking, we only argued about my curfew for the hundredth time.
I really wanted to be able to communicate with my dad, and sometimes I sensed that he felt the same way, but for some reason, we were never able to connect.
It’s not always easy to talk to parents. Some kids, and you may be one of them, have a great relationship with their parents. These kids can talk, without fear or awkwardness, about anything and everything with their parents. But not everyone is so lucky. As a kid, I always wanted to have meaningful talks with my mom and dad, but I wasn’t able to. We had a good relationship, but we never really talked. Looking back, I realize that I expected my parents to make all the efforts at establishing communication. That’s where I was wrong. There are things kids can do to improve communication between themselves and their parents.
The first thing you can do is talk to them. It may not be easy at first, but it will be worth it. “My dad and I talked,” says a high school student I know, “but we never really sat down and had serious talks about what’s going on in my life, about problems I had, or things I wanted to accomplish. As a matter of fact, the first time I ever had a serious talk with my dad was when he was bishop and had to interview me on my birthday.
“That interview really helped me see that I could improve our communication if I met him halfway. Things didn’t change overnight, but since then, he and I both have tried harder to find the time to sit down together once in a while and talk.”
One girl I know interviews her parents about once a week. “I don’t really ‘interview’ them,” she says, “not in an obvious, formal way. But I do catch them when they’re not busy and ask them questions about their childhood, their high school days, that kind of stuff. Once they start answering, I just sit back and listen. It’s amazing what I’ve learned about my mom and dad that way.”
The more you talk to your parents in everyday situations, the easier it will be to talk to them in times of crisis and emotion. Meaningful communication doesn’t just happen—it takes practice, practice that you can often initiate.
Sometimes it’s difficult to find the time to talk. If that’s the case, try some creative approaches. One young missionary told me, “I always wanted to talk to my mom. Oh, we talked about lots of things but never about anything serious or personal. We had a good relationship—we got along well—but we never really talked.
“There was so much that I wanted to tell her, so many questions I wanted to ask her before I went on my mission, but I just couldn’t do it.
“So I wrote her a letter, a long letter, and left it on her dresser. That really opened things up for us, and we had a couple of great talks before I left.”
If time is a problem for you and your parents, use your imagination to find the time to be with them. For example, you might meet them at work and have lunch with them. Or at home, get up early or stay up late so you can talk without any interruptions. You can even make an appointment with them, write down a specific time and place, to talk about things. If you put your mind to it, you can come up with other ways to help you and your parents find the time to talk.
Of course, sometimes you’ll want your mom and dad to listen, not talk. As you’ve probably noticed, many adults suffer from acute Advice-Giving Syndrome. I know I do. My daughter Christy will often start to tell me about a problem she’s having at school or with friends, and immediately I stop listening and start telling her what she should do. I know that Christy wants to express herself more than she wants my advice, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.
A student of mine has a good approach to use on parents (or any other adult, for that matter) who tend to give advice when they should be listening. “My parents love to give me advice,” he says, “and lots of times, I don’t mind. But sometimes I really want them to listen to what I have to say, so I’ll tell them, ‘Mom and Dad, I want to tell you something, and I want you to listen—without talking—until I’m finished. I really want to tell you this, but if you’re not going to listen, I’m not going to tell you. If you’ll listen to me, then I’ll listen to what you have to say.’ That usually works.”