Gospel Story Finder

We had some additional motivation not to cancel FSY. The year before at almost the same time, the conference had been planned for this same group, everything organized and ready to go. On the morning FSY was to begin it had to be cancelled because the Omicron variant of COVID-19 that originated in South Africa was spreading quickly. The youth had been unable to participate in any activities the years before due to the coronavirus, and now at the last minute in 2021 the light at the end of the tunnel had been ripped away from them. Would we have to repeat this again in 2022? We hoped not.

Samuel the Lamanite was a prophet who warned the Nephite people to repent and prophesied of the birth of the Savior. Believing Samuel’s words brought hardship and persecution to many people. This story could have happened in the land of Zarahemla shortly before the birth of the Savior. You may read the scriptural account in the Book of Mormon, Helaman 13–15. [Hel. 13–15]
“Mathoni, I fear you should not be seen with me anymore,” Zenos said, tracing a pattern in the dust with his staff. “Although we are best friends, your father is angry because my mother and I believe the words of Samuel the Lamanite. He thinks the prophet’s words are only foolish fables.”
“My father has been led away by unbelievers,” Mathoni replied. “That is why he gets so upset when he knows you and I have been together. I think he suspects I am also a believer.”
“When your father comes to know the truth, we can be companions again,” Zenos said thoughtfully. “But until then I think it will be better for you if we do not see each other. Now we must go. It is time for Samuel to speak from the city wall.”
“Farewell, friend,” Mathoni called as the two boys shook hands and went their separate ways.
Zenos hurried to the city wall, his eyes traveling its length in search of the man who so fearlessly taught from the high place. Already a crowd had gathered, some listening and some scoffing.
Samuel’s gentle voice reached Zenos’ ears. “Behold,” he was saying, “I give unto you a sign: for five years more cometh, and behold, then cometh the Son of God to redeem all those who shall believe on His name.”
As Zenos moved closer, he heard one man say, “What sort of fanatic is he—preaching repentance to us? Who is this Son of God he says will come?”
“And behold,” Samuel continued, “this will I give unto you for a sign at the time of His coming; for behold, there shall be great lights in heaven, insomuch that in the night before He cometh there shall be no darkness. …
“Therefore, there shall be one day and a night and a day, as if it were one day and there were no night; and this shall be unto you for a sign; for ye shall know of the rising of the sun and also of its setting; … and it shall be the night before He is born.
“And behold, there shall a new star arise, such an one as ye never have beheld.”
Suddenly Zenos saw a man nearby pick up a large stone and take aim at Samuel. The prophet was a perfect target, standing on the wall with no place to hide. As the stone sailed through the air, it seemed to be guided off course and missed Samuel. Next an arrow whizzed past Zenos’ ear. It too was meant for Samuel, but missed. Voices rose in anger as more rocks and arrows hurled through the air. Astonished, Zenos watched as Samuel continued to prophesy. Nothing touched him.
“As surely as the Lord liveth shall these things be, saith the Lord. Amen.” Samuel ended his speaking.
No sooner had Samuel finished than Mathoni’s father began to climb the wall shouting, “Take him! Bind him! Away with him!” Others joined in, storming the wall.
Samuel bent to his knees and disappeared over the other side of the wall.
Zenos ran home bewildered and afraid.
His mother was flattening dough to be baked on the hot stones in the fireplace. “What troubles you, my son?” she asked.
“Mother, the unbelievers have driven Samuel away. They threw stones and shot arrows, yet nothing touched him. He prophesied many wonderful things about the coming of the Son of God. I wonder what will happen to Mathoni? His father is a leader among the unbelievers, but Mathoni believes.”
“Perhaps he will find a way to awaken his father to the truth,” Mother answered.
During the next five years Zenos did not talk with Mathoni. Occasionally he saw him on the hillside watching his father’s flocks. Zenos knew without words that life was difficult for his friend.
The murmuring among the unbelievers grew. They sneered at the believers in the streets as they went quietly about their work.
One day Zenos heard Mathoni’s father speaking to a group of men in the marketplace. “The time is past,” he said, “and the words of Samuel are not fulfilled. Such foolish believers do not deserve to live. If the signs foretold by Samuel have not come to pass in seven days, then let us destroy all of the believers.” The crowd of men mumbled in agreement.
Terrified, Zenos grasped his staff and ran home. “Mother! Mother!” he cried. “What’s to become of us? I heard Mathoni’s father—”
“We must stand firm in our faith,” his mother interrupted, “for Samuel prophesied in five years the sign would be given, and the five years are nearly over.”
As the days passed, Zenos was often worried, but his mother showed no outward signs of being afraid. She went quietly about her tasks.
Just before dusk on the sixth day, Mathoni appeared at the door. His voice shook as he warned his friend, “Zenos, you and your mother must flee to the mountains to hide. Tomorrow is the fateful day, and my father will come here first because you have been my friend. Go quickly!”
“Let us pray,” Mother said simply to the two boys, and they all knelt down by the table.
“That’s strange,” Zenos said as they rose to their feet. “The sun has gone down, yet it is still day.”
“It’s the sign, Zenos! The sign!” Mathoni cried.
“Stay with us, Mathoni,” Mother said. “You will not be safe at home.”
Throughout the night the light was as midday, and yet the next morning the sun came up as usual.
“Samuel said there would be a day and a night and a day without darkness,” Zenos exclaimed. “This then is the day before the Son of God is to be born in Jerusalem.”
As darkness came that second strange day, a tall shadow appeared in the doorway of the house, and Mathoni’s father demanded, “What are you doing here in the house of a believer?”
Before Mathoni could answer, he saw a special brilliance in the night sky. “The star!” Mathoni called. “Look, Father. The star!”
Mathoni’s father turned, and through the doorway he saw a new star of unbelievable brightness that lighted up the dark sky. “Never have I seen such a star,” Mathoni’s father said as he dropped to his knees and gazed in wonder at the night sky.
“It’s the sign! Now do you believe, Father?” Mathoni asked.
“Yea, I believe. How foolish I have been. The Son of God is surely born in Jerusalem,” Mathoni’s father said softly.
“The Savior who is born this night in Jerusalem will take away the sins of the world, and you shall find peace and forgiveness,” Mother told Mathoni’s father.
The light of the star shone clearly on the four figures who knelt in the doorway, their faces turned upward toward it.
Mathoni’s father put one arm around his son and the other around Zenos and drew them close. Never again would he come between these two good friends!

The National Gallery at Trafalgar Square in London, England, is one of the truly great museums of art in all the world. The gallery proudly proclaims its Rembrandt Room and Constable Corner and urges all to take the tour of Turner’s masterpieces. Visitors come from every corner of the earth. They depart uplifted and inspired.
During a visit to the National Gallery, I was surprised to see displayed in a most prominent location magnificent portraits and landscapes which featured the name of no artist. Then I noticed a large placard which provided this explanation:
“This exhibition is drawn from the large number of paintings that hang in a public but somewhat neglected area of the Gallery: the lower floor. The exhibition is intended to encourage visitors to look at the paintings without being too worried about who painted them. In several instances, we do not precisely know.
“The information on labels on paintings can often affect, half-unconsciously, our estimate of them; and here labeling has been deliberately subordinate in the hope that visitors will read only after they have looked and made their own assessment of each work.”

I give this brief summary to highlight another miracle, another revelation, if you will, that may have been overlooked by the general membership of the Church. In a way it was intended to be transparent to the public eye. I speak of the decision made by the Brethren just over a decade ago to cease placing any special assessments or other fund-raising obligations upon the members of the Church at home or abroad.
Inasmuch as this decision was made amidst the very international growth I have just described, how could this be done financially? How could we go to more and more distant locations at the very moment we were removing all ancillary assessments from our people? Logic in the situation might have suggested exactly the opposite course of action.
How was it done? I will tell you how it was done—with the wholehearted belief on the part of the presiding Brethren that the Lord’s principles of tithing and freewill offerings would be honored by even the newest member of the Church and that loyalty to such divine principles would see us through.
I was not in the Quorum of the Twelve when that momentous decision was made, but I can imagine the discussions that were held and the act of faith required within the presiding councils of the Church. What if the Brethren were to cease assessments and the Saints did not pay their tithes and offerings—what then? So far as I know, that thought was never seriously entertained. They went forward in faith—faith in God, faith in revealed principle, faith in us. They never looked back. That was a magnificent (if nearly unnoticed) day in the maturing of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

It hadn’t been that way with Tessie. She was as awkward in her world as he was in his, new in California after being given to her mother in a messy divorce settlement. He remembered the first day she’d moved into the neighborhood, lost in the shuffle of refrigerators and dining room tables. She had sat in the branches of the birch tree between his house and hers, thin legs dangling, her big eyes solemn. His heart had gone out to her as he watched from beneath his car, where he’d given up on his drive shaft to watch the scene next door.

He had worked on his car a lot back then, where he could be alone and not worry about being the life of the party or what to say when the best-looking cheerleader in the school said hello to him. Tessie had watched him from high in the birch tree, never saying a word, just watching him work. It had bothered him at first, like having a shadow looking over his shoulder, and then he’d grown to like it. It was comforting to have her there, and lonely when she wasn’t.

It was almost Christmas when David had come home late one night from a date with Sherri Gilbert. Sherri was cute, and a lot of guys liked her, so when Hank had excitedly told him that she was looking his way, well, it had only seemed right to ask her out. He hadn’t known then that the movie would be boring, the hamburgers cold, and that she would talk about nothing but her summer in France with her cousin Louisa. He had been ready to swear off women forever when he’d turned the corner and seen Tessie sitting on her front porch, her head on her knees.

She’d heard the car and looked up as it turned into his driveway. He’d cut the engine and waited a few minutes before slowly climbing out.

“Past your bedtime, isn’t it?” He’d glanced at his watch and seen that it was almost midnight. “My name is David White.”

“Hello.” She’d lifted her head slightly and peered through her bangs. “How come your car’s always broken?”

“Broken?” He’d grinned. “I don’t know. Maybe I never fix it the right way.” He’d glanced at it in the driveway. It certainly didn’t look like much, one side stripped down to primer, waiting for its paint job. “Maybe if I had somebody to help me, I could talk it over and do a better job.”

She’d hesitated a minute. “Maybe I could help. I used to help my dad with his car.”

“Hey, I’d like that. I don’t suppose you have a name?”

“Tessie Tobin.” He’d thought he’d seen excitement in her eyes. “I’m only seven, and everybody tells me that I’m too little to do anything, because I’m the shortest girl in my class, but that doesn’t matter, does it?”

He’d hidden a smile. “I don’t think so. I like short people just as much as the tall ones.”

And that had been the beginning. She’d kept her promise and left the birch tree to become his first-class mate, always ready with a wrench or rag or sometimes just a glass of lemonade.

With heavy hearts and broken spirits the parents of a wayward child were recently heard to say, “Where did we go wrong? What have we done to displease the Lord? What is the Lord trying to tell us? Is this the reward for trying to be good parents? Why us?”
These were among a flood of questions that came as they agonized over the serious misconduct of their child. Their comments and attitude reflected a frightening blend of resentment, frustration, and self-condemnation.
It was evident that this distraught couple was not to be calmed or reassured by scriptures or personal observations. Because the child had transgressed, they were adamant in their feelings that God was displeased with them. Their attitude reflected bitterness and loss of self-respect. Momentarily they were letting themselves be consumed and destroyed by the trying circumstances.
In their present tragedy they were not seeking counsel or comfort; rather, it appeared, they were looking for someone who would suffer with them and join in the chorus of “If there is a merciful God, why does He allow this to happen?” We must remember that all suffering is not punishment. It is imperative that we do not allow ourselves to be destroyed by the conduct of others.

One day Joseph played a game of ball with some of the young men in Nauvoo. The Prophet’s older brother Hyrum saw him. Hyrum had a great love for his brother, and he didn’t like to see people given a chance to find fault with him. Hyrum was afraid that if people saw Joseph having fun with the young men, they might think this wasn’t what a prophet should do.
After the ball game, Hyrum approached Joseph and said that such conduct was not proper for a prophet of the Lord. He spoke out of love, wishing to guide his brother.
The Prophet looked lovingly at Hyrum. He knew Hyrum was concerned about him, and he trusted and often listened to the advice of his older brother. But this time Joseph simply answered him in a mild voice. “Brother Hyrum, my mingling with the boys in a harmless sport like this does not injure me in any way, but on the other hand it makes them happy and draws their hearts nearer to mine; and who knows but there may be young men among them who may sometime lay down their lives for me!”*
The Prophet Joseph was right. When persecution again started for him, two young men in Nauvoo risked their lives to discover the Prophet’s enemies and their plots against him. The young men showed how much they had come to love the Prophet by how much they risked their own safety for his. Joseph Smith dearly loved children, and they loved the Prophet too.

In 1975 Janelle Griffin was in the tenth grade. An assignment to write a paper about population explosion started a series of events that eventually led to a tape and filmstrip called, “Very Much Alive.”
Janelle and her father, Dr. Glen Griffin, now members of the Bountiful, Utah Val Verda Stake, went through the family photos and selected some good slides. These were matched with an anti-abortion story-script that Janelle and her father wrote. The resulting slide presentation, emphasizing the sanctity of human life was enthusiastically applauded by students and teachers. Refinements and revisions followed. A sound track was recorded on cassette tape. Some who saw the presentation suggested that every LDS youth should see “Very Much Alive.”
Many revisions and refinements followed, and then followed distribution in 17 languages to all the Church (VVOF1420.).

I am very grateful to be able to read the New Era. I went to pick up my mail at the mission home today and found out that there wasn’t any mail for me. It’s been over a month since I have had a letter from home, but I was happy to see that my March New Era had arrived. I started reading it while walking down the street, and I walked into a wire that anchored a telephone pole! I read the magazine that day, and before nighttime I had read it from cover to cover. I always used to skip a few articles that didn’t seem interesting, but this time I read every article, and they were all interesting.
Elder Joseph Richard Wright, Jr.Philippines Manila Mission

It was the Friday night before at 9:25 P.M. I remember the exact time because I looked at the clock. It is still vivid in my mind. At 9:25 it was storming with a humdinger of an electrical storm like we get in North Carolina. It was lightning and thundering and raining. The trees were bent over, and it was dark. There came a knock on the door.
Mama, being a widow for so many years and very protective of her children, would never let strangers in the house. It was two young men in suits and trenchcoats, and she let them in. I remember it so distinctly, because I thought, “Who are these guys?” I thought Mama knew them.
She is very respectful of other people’s religions, so she made us come in and listen to them. I had never heard of Mormons before. I had never even heard the word. They started teaching us.
When I heard these two missionaries, I knew that what they were telling me was true. I had come to the conclusion that there was no true church and that’s why I was going to be baptized by the revival preacher. But after hearing the missionaries that Friday evening, I knew that they had something I was looking for, so I didn’t get baptized by the revival preacher the next day.

President Packer was called as an Apostle in April 1970. He wanted to share his testimony with everyone. He said, “I bear my witness that the Savior lives. I know the Lord. I am His witness.”

Sister Emily Webber in the Temple Square Mission didn’t feel qualified to create content for her mission, but she has learned if we rely on the Lord, He will help us use our abilities to fulfill His work. “I know that God helped magnify every ability that I’ve ever had to be able to do this. I’ve been able to see the Lord’s hand more as we create this content.”

Fabiola R., age 12, from Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil, likes to listen to conference with her family. She cannot read or speak but feels the peace and love from the conference messages. Her favorite part is listening to her friend, President Henry B. Eyring.

The first experience occurred as we entered a dark room and turned on a light switch. Remember how in an instant a bright flood of illumination filled the room and caused the darkness to disappear. What previously had been unseen and uncertain became clear and recognizable. This experience was characterized by immediate and intense recognition of light.
A light turned on in a dark room is like receiving a message from God quickly, completely, and all at once. Many of us have experienced this pattern of revelation as we have been given answers to sincere prayers or been provided with needed direction or protection, according to God’s will and timing. Descriptions of such immediate and intense manifestations are found in the scriptures, recounted in Church history, and evidenced in our own lives. Indeed, these mighty miracles do occur. However, this pattern of revelation tends to be more rare than common.

Micky was sitting on the curb when his friend John came and sat down beside him. “What can we do on such a hot day?” John asked.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Micky suggested. “We might find adventure.”
“Adventure? What’s that?” John asked.
“Grandfather said it’s finding new and happy things to do,” Micky explained.
“Let’s go then!” said John.
They walked to the end of the block and turned the corner. “My mother told me not to cross the street,” Micky cautioned.
“Mine too,” said John as they continued up the street.
A dog was sitting on the grass wagging its tail in front of a house. “Hello, doggy,” Micky called.
“Hello, doggy,” John echoed.
The dog followed them wagging his tail. Soon they turned another corner and saw a boy bouncing a ball.
“Hi!” said the boy. “My name’s Steve and we just moved here. Where do you live?”
“Way back there. I’m Micky and this is my friend John. We’re taking a walk. Would you like to come too?”
“Sure,” said the boy. “Mother says I can take a walk but I mustn’t cross the street.”
“Me neither,” said Micky.
“Same here,” said John.
The friendly dog was still following them wagging his tail. When they came to the end of that block, they saw a low stone wall that went all the way around the corner. Micky stepped up onto the wall. Arms held wide, he balanced himself carefully. “Look, I’m a tightrope walker,” he boasted, putting one foot down right in front of the other.
John climbed up on the wall, too, and followed Micky around the corner, arms held wide. “Zoom! I’m an airplane,” he said and laughed.
Steve tagged along behind John. “Chug, chug, chug. I’m a train,” he pretended. The dog followed along on the sidewalk.
When the wall came to an end, the boys jumped down.
“What’s that on the sidewalk?” Micky suddenly asked, pointing at something sparkling.
Micky ran and picked it up. “It’s a rock,” he said, turning it around and around in his hand. It felt warm. “I think I’ll keep this for my collection.”
As John reached for the rock to inspect it, a yellow butterfly fluttered down and settled on his hand. He held his hand very still, hardly breathing. “Wow!” the boys said when the butterfly fluttered on its way again.
Micky put the rock in his pocket and the boys started walking again.
“Is that your dog?” Steve asked.
“No,” Micky answered, his eyes laughing, “he lives around the corner from us and likes to walk too!”
“It would be fun to play ball there sometime,” Micky said, pointing to an empty lot.
“Or build a clubhouse,” John suggested.
“Or have a picnic,” added Steve.
As Micky, John, Steve, and the dog walked around another corner, Micky shouted, “There’s my house.”
John shouted, “Mine too!”
“I live just around the alley from you. That’s my house by the flag. See you later,” Steve said as he hurried home.
“We really found adventure,” Micky said. “And it was fun.”
“And we found two new friends,” said John, as he waved at Steve and then watched the dog turn in at its own house down the street.

As I was driving along the street the other day, I noticed all of the people who were smoking and all of the kids who were hitchhiking along the side of the road; many of them looked very mixed up. The other night at the store, I watched some boys my age come out with several cans of beer in their hands. And you don’t know whether or not to go to a movie these days because you don’t know how bad it will be. I’ve thought many times about what I should do to help the world out of the mess it’s in. I’m 17, a very active member of the Church, and I feel I will be accountable if I don’t say anything or do anything. But what should I do?

My office in the Relief Society Building has a perfect view of the Salt Lake Temple. Every night, as regular as clockwork, the outdoor temple lights turn on at dusk. The temple is a steady, reassuring beacon just outside my window.
One night this past February, my office remained exceptionally dim as the sun went down. As I looked out the window, the temple was dark. The lights had not turned on. I felt suddenly somber. I couldn’t see the temple spires I had glimpsed every evening for years.
We, or people we love, may temporarily go dark. In the case of the Salt Lake Temple, the facilities manager, Brother Val White, got a call almost immediately. People had noticed. What was wrong with the temple lights? First, the staff went in person to every electrical panel in the temple and manually turned the lights back on. Then they replaced the batteries in the automatic power supply and tested them to find out what had failed.
It’s hard to get the lights back on by yourself. We need friends. We need each other. Just like the temple facilities staff, we can help each other by showing up in person, recharging our spiritual batteries, repairing what went wrong.

When mobs in Missouri made life dangerous for members of the Church, he helped Church members move to this city in Illinois.

My parents were divorced for several years and thankfully got married again, but during that time I felt much the way you described in your question. I prayed to Heavenly Father for strength and comfort. Through this experience I’ve learned to turn to and trust Heavenly Father, for He knows what is best. I’ve also learned to pray with an open heart when I have troubles and questions. When I finish praying I read my scriptures, for I might come to a chapter with the answer I need. When you have those feelings of alienation, try reading the scriptures and praying for guidance.Marie P., 13, Arizona, USA

“Perhaps my first lesson about truly good Saints without guile was learned when I was a young missionary. I moved into an area with an elder I didn’t know. I had heard other missionaries talk about how he had never received any leadership assignments and how he struggled with the Korean language despite having been in the country a long time. But as I got to know this elder, I found he was one of the most obedient and faithful missionaries I had known. He studied when it was time to study; he worked when it was time to work. He left the apartment on time and returned on time. He was diligent in studying Korean even though the language was especially difficult for him.
“When I realized the comments I had heard were untrue, I felt like this missionary was being misjudged as unsuccessful. I wanted to tell the whole mission what I had discovered about this elder. I shared with my mission president my desire to correct this misunderstanding. His response was, ‘Heavenly Father knows this young man is a successful missionary, and so do I.’ He added, ‘And now you know too, so who else really matters?’ This wise mission president taught me what was important in service, and it wasn’t praise, position, power, honor, or authority. This was a great lesson for a young missionary who was too focused on titles.”
Elder Michael T. Ringwood of the Seventy