Gospel Story Finder

Temple Square missionaries also donate several hours each week in additional service. They volunteer at Welfare Square in Salt Lake City, where they sort used clothing for worldwide distribution to the needy, assist patrons in the bishops’ storehouse, teach English as a second language to any wishing to learn, and work in the cannery or dairy.
This experience proved useful for Sister Ilona Machinic of Vilnius, Lithuania, who met a Russian man on Temple Square. Able to speak to him in his native language, she discovered that he needed assistance and was able to call upon the resources of Welfare Square to help him. He gratefully went on his way, promising to repay the kindness of the Church somehow.

The Prophet Joseph Smith had borrowed the volumes of the Book of Martyrs by the 16th-century English cleric John Foxe from the mother of Edward Stevenson of the Seventy. After he read them, he said, “I have, by the aid of the Urim and Thummim, seen those martyrs, and they were honest, devoted followers of Christ, according to the light they possessed, and they will be saved.”

Since my baptism into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in September 2009, I started to learn the real meaning of Christmas. I realized the significance of gathering our children in our home and to earnestly ponder the birth of the Saviour of the world. The meek arrival of an infant [who was placed] in a manger—that signifies the meekness of our Master who urges us to follow Him. I have learned that Christmas is a season for reconciliation, knitting of hearts, forgiving enemies, and extra-extending hands to the needy, as we strive for reverence in our homes and in our hearts.

As an organization, Relief Society provides a network through which every woman can be quickly reached in times of disaster. In the Teton Dam disaster of 1976, calls for needed volunteer help went from nearby stake Relief Society presidents to ward presidents, to visiting teaching supervisors, to visiting teachers, to sisters who responded willingly. Thus, in a very short time, the needed help was recruited.

Joseph had other seer stones, but in the words of Elder Orson Pratt (1811–81), a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and later Church Historian, Joseph had also matured by this time in his spiritual understanding. At a meeting on June 28, 1874, attended by President Brigham Young and many other General Authorities, Elder Pratt told his audience about being “present many times” when Joseph Smith “was translating the New Testament.” Seeing no interpretive instruments in use during the translation process, he wondered why Joseph “did not use the Urim and Thummim, as in translating the Book of Mormon.”
As Elder Pratt watched the Prophet translate, “Joseph, as if he read his thoughts, looked up and explained that the Lord gave him the Urim and Thummim when he was inexperienced in the Spirit of inspiration. But now he had advanced so far that he understood the operations of that Spirit, and did not need the assistance of that instrument.”21

And now, speaking of prayer, I touch on another matter. Last April, I spoke to the regional representatives of the Church, as I have done for a number of years on each occasion when they have come for general conference. These are training meetings where the regional representatives get information that they may carry with them across the Church. There is nothing secret or hidden about what is done there.
However, recently I heard that someone had secured a copy of my talk, looking upon that as a singular accomplishment, as if it had been given in a secret and sinister manner, designed to keep it from the world. This is nonsense.
I am therefore on this occasion going to take the liberty of rereading that portion of the talk which pertains to a matter over which some few women of the Church appear to be greatly exercised. I give it to all, in this forum, because of the activities of a few who evidently are seeking to lead others in the paths which they are following. I speak of those who advocate the offering of prayers to our Mother in Heaven. I quote from that earlier address:
That is the end of the quotation from the talk I gave earlier, to which I may add that none of us can add to or diminish the glory of her of whom we have no revealed knowledge.

“While in Japan, I met and talked with one lady who had been studying the gospel for months but committed to baptism that very night at the concert. That’s the most gratifying part of our work. While we like to do things that are musically viable and important, if we can touch someone’s heart and spirit through our music and cause them to feel about the gospel of Jesus Christ the way we do, then we are doing what we are supposed to be doing.”

“That was an impressive door approach, Elder. I’m glad all of your high school German is coming back to you, but we’re in Portugal!”
Ryan Stoker

I didn’t really mean to bring the cow to Primary that Sunday morning. I didn’t even know who the cow belonged to. On my way to Primary, this silly Holstein cow suddenly lumbered up behind me, mooing at the top of her lungs.
“Go home!” I shouted, trying to shoo her away. “Go home!” Not that I knew where her home could be. Cows usually didn’t just wander around our small town.
I ducked my head and started jogging, hoping that none of my friends would see or hear the noisy cow following right on my heels. But things only got worse. Rounding the corner, I saw Sister Allred, my Primary teacher, sitting on the church steps, crying.
Now I’ve really done it, I thought. Sister Allred is already a nervous wreck because of our class’s behavior. And now I’ve brought a cow to Primary! I thought about last week’s Primary class. It had been so bad that I’d even told my dad about it. Tony and Jimmy had been throwing chalk, tipping over chairs, and snickering whenever Sister Allred asked a question.
“In my day,” Dad had said, fuming, “those boys would have gotten a good whipping with a willow branch for not respecting their elders.”
I could almost feel the sting as he spoke. But I hadn’t told him the complete story. Scott and I had been in on those pranks too. Sure, I wanted to be nice to Sister Allred, but being part of the group was even more important to me.
“Hello, Phillip,” Sister Allred called, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
“Hello,” I murmured, hoping that she would mistake the cow for an extraordinarily large Dalmatian.
With her eyes all teary and puffy, Sister Allred didn’t look as pretty as she usually did. I had always thought that widows were supposed to be ancient. But Sister Allred wasn’t much older than Mom.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, hoping that her tears had blocked out the sight of the cow.
“Oh, nothing, really,” she said, starting to sniffle again. “I’ve just been thinking that maybe I’m not the right person to teach your Primary class.”
“I know how you feel,” I said. “The last teacher who resigned from our class dubbed us the ‘Frightful Four and Sweet Emily Clawson.’” I squirmed when I said “Frightful Four,” because there were only five boys in our class and Brian Tennyson never came. That meant that I was one of the Frightful Four, and right then I wasn’t particularly proud of it.
Suddenly the cow planted her forelegs on the step right beside Sister Allred and mooed loudly in her ear.
I was aghast, but Sister Allred didn’t seem to mind. “Phillip,” she said, “you never told me that you had a cow.”
Just then I saw Sister Parkin, the Primary president, and a redheaded boy heading toward us. Where can I hide the cow? I agonized.
But Sister Parkin looked right past the cow and shouted to Sister Allred above the cow’s mooing. “I want you to meet another member of your class.”
I looked at the redheaded boy, who was staring at the ground.
“This is Brian Tennyson,” said Sister Parkin. Then she fled.
My heart seemed to skip a beat. So this is Brian—the boy Mom and Dad are always telling me I should fellowship. While I was staring at him, a rubber band whopped the side of my head. I turned and saw Tony and Jimmy gleefully loping toward me.
Now I was in real trouble. I was caught between an obnoxious cow, a crying teacher, a shy boy who needed my example, and the two worst terrors of the Primary. To make matters worse, Emily Clawson came bouncing up to Sister Allred and smugly announced, “I read all the scriptures that you talked about last week.”
“Say, Emily,” taunted Tony, “we’ve finally found another girl to read scriptures with you.” He jerked his thumb toward the cow. “Want to ride her into class?”
Sister Allred cleared her throat and said, “I think that we can manage without the cow.”
After opening exercises, the lesson started with no major catastrophes, but only because Scott’s dad stood just outside the door for a while. The loudest sound came from Emily answering questions. I wondered how long it would last. It didn’t last long. Suddenly there was a terrible bellowing outside our window. The cow had found us. She was stamping her hooves and mooing louder than ever.
“I know what’s wrong with that cow!” Sister Allred exclaimed. “It’s past her milking time. The poor thing’s in pain.” She started gathering up her lesson materials.
My eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Why, I’m going to milk her,” Sister Allred replied. “I can just as well teach a lesson outside while I’m milking.”
“You know how to milk a cow?” chortled Tony.
“I used to do it all the time when we had the farm,” she answered.
Tony wrinkled his nose and gave one of his “Oh, sure” looks to Jimmy.
“But I need your help. Would you and Jimmy please find me some pans in the meetinghouse kitchen?” she said.
“Who, me?” said Tony, pointing at himself unbelievingly.
“Yes, you!”
Grumbling, Tony and Jimmy shuffled down the hall.
Brian tugged hopefully on Sister Allred’s sleeve. “May I help too?”
She smiled. “You and Phillip can find me some paper towels and a pan of warm water.”
The bellowing cow was dripping milk in a puddle by the time we gathered around her. Sister Allred stroked the cow gently. “Don’t worry, Bossie. We’ll take care of you.”
Tony and Jimmy brought half a dozen pans from the kitchen, and I brought warm water in the biggest bowl I could find. We thought that we had lost Brian until we saw a cowlick of red hair sticking up behind a tremendous moving pile of paper towels.
“It looks as if we’re well stocked,” laughed Sister Allred. “Now, does anyone know what we do first?”
Brian was standing beyond the circle of the group. Finally he cleared his throat. “I know,” he offered shyly. “You need to wash the cow’s udder with that warm water.”
“That’s right,” said Sister Allred. “Have you milked cows before?”
“No,” replied Brian. “But my grandpa used to have cows, and I watched him.”
Soon everyone was helping to wash and dry the cow’s udder—everyone except Tony. I could see him hanging back, watching us silently.
“What’s next?” asked our teacher.
“Milking!” we exclaimed in unison.
Expertly, Sister Allred began to squeeze the cow’s teats with both her hands. Thick, warm milk squirted into a pan. Soon she pushed back her chair. “Anybody else want to try?”
“I do!” Brian piped up. A freckled grin creased his face as he squeezed a trickle of milk into the pan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tony edging closer. He began patting the cow’s neck. He cleared his throat again. “Before he died, my grandpa told me about milking cows too. He said that it’s important to always be gentle and kind to them.”
Sister Allred smiled. “Tony, I’m certainly glad that you’re here today. You’ve just taught my Primary lesson. It’s about being gentle and kind.” She chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t exactly talk about cows. But it does say that we should be gentle and kind to everyone, and that must include cows.”
“Does that also include Primary teachers?” blurted out Brian.
Sister Allred looked at Brian in surprise. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Of course, it’s easy to be kind to you. You’re the best Primary teacher I’ve ever had!” He lowered his voice. “You know what else? You’re the best cow milker I’ve ever seen.”
Sister Allred leaned down. Her smiling blue eyes looked prettier than I’d ever seen them. “You know what, Brian? I bet you can all learn to be great cow milkers.”
Soon we were all taking turns milking, even Emily. We must have lined up a dozen times.
“Wow,” said Tony, “I wish my grandpa could see me now.”
Suddenly we heard a voice behind us. “Anybody want a job? I never guessed that I was going to find my cow in the hands of such good milkers.”
We all looked up. A stooped old man was gazing at the pans filled with warm, creamy milk.
“I heard that my cow had headed in this direction, but I never thought that she’d get this far.” He paused and rubbed his gray chin. “I’m serious about that job offer. I can’t even get this much milk out of her myself. Oh, you wouldn’t have to milk very often—only when my wife and I want to get away for a day or two. Betsy here is our last cow, and we don’t want to give her up. She’s mostly a pet.”
“I’d love to milk her,” said Brian.
Tony ground the toe of his shoe into the dirt and motioned toward Sister Allred. “I wouldn’t mind doing it if our teacher helps us. She’s real good at milking. I’m sure that you could trust us to be gentle and kind to Betsy.”
Sister Allred smiled and put her arm around Tony. “I think that my five boys, Emily, and I could handle a job like that.”
I patted the black and white cow, and Betsy gave a final, contented moo.

And, finally, Andrew.
“My friends and I love to hang out with Peter and do stuff. We’ll always include Peter. We’ll go out in the car; we’ll rent a movie. Sometimes we’ll take Pete out with us to see a flick and get something to eat.”
Peter, Andrew’s 15-year-old brother, has Down’s syndrome.
“All my friends like to come to my house, and I like hanging around my family. We have a warm house, and my best friend has said that,” adds Andrew, whose thoughts about a warm house have nothing to do with the furnace.

One day a few years ago when my wife and I were riding a train in Holland, a lovely lady some 85 years young shared our six-seat compartment. I greeted her in Dutch, and we spoke for a few minutes when she said, “You’re an American. I can tell from your accent, but where did you learn to speak Dutch?” I told her that I had been a Mormon missionary to Holland some 25 years earlier. Then I asked the golden question, whether she knew anything about the Mormon church.
She had been a missionary with her husband for the Dutch Reformed Church in Indonesia for 25 years, and she said yes, she had heard of the Church. But then she said, “The Mormons are foolish people.” To my question of why she thought we were a foolish people, she said, “They don’t believe in Christ.” I was stunned for a minute. I wondered how someone who knew enough to be a missionary for another church would think Mormons do not believe in Jesus Christ. When I overcame my shock, I asked her if she had read the Book of Mormon. She said she had seen it and read in it a little, but she thought that it was just further evidence that we believed in Lehi and Nephi, and Mormon and Moroni, but not in Jesus Christ.
I asked her if she believed in Abraham and Moses, in Enoch and Isaiah, and Jeremiah and Ezekiel; and she said she certainly did. I wondered how she could believe in those men and still believe in Christ. She answered immediately that those men were Old Testament prophets, and some of them had prophesied that the Messiah would come. I then told her that Lehi and Nephi, and Mormon and Moroni, and even Joseph Smith were also prophets of the Lord Jesus Christ, that they were called to teach other of the Lord’s children than the Jews. And had she read more carefully in the Book of Mormon, she would have seen that its prophets taught of Jesus Christ.
Just as I was warming up to my discussion of how the Book of Mormon teaches of Christ, the train pulled into her stop, and she had to leave. But I sat musing in my mind how someone could even look at the Book of Mormon and not see it is a Christian book. Doesn’t the title page declare that “Jesus is the Christ, the ETERNAL GOD”? But then, that statement appears almost at the end of the second paragraph, and maybe she didn’t read that far.

Soon Karina will be eight, and she is looking forward to her birthday. She hopes to have a big chocolate cake with white frosting. But she is even more excited that she will be baptized. Her parents and the missionaries are teaching her about baptism and the covenants she will make, and her father is preparing to baptize her. She is eager to become a member of the Church. She loves the gospel and loves to share it.

One day during my school choir practice, I accidentally embarrassed a boy. He sang a note by himself and went out of tune. People started laughing, and I laughed too. Afterward I felt really bad, so I asked my mom for help. She told me I should tell him I was sorry. I handwrote an apology letter and handed it to him during recess. About a day or so later, when I was walking down the hallway with my friends, the boy stuck his head out of his classroom and yelled, “I forgive you!” I’m glad I had the courage to make the right choice.
Courtney L., age 11, Texas, USA

Christmas Eve is often a busy day for parents with a million things to do to make the holiday pleasant for every one. Mom and Dad usually fall into bed late that night, totally exhausted.
So, how about helping out by fixing Christmas morning breakfast? Everything can be prepared ahead and heated just before serving. With a little creativity and using what you have around the house, you can make the table look festive as well.
Check over the ingredients in these recipes and make sure that they are available at home. With a little preparation, like a trip to the store for ingredients early on Christmas Eve day, everything can be done in advance.
Here are a few ideas to create a little surprise for your family.
On Christmas morning, warm the Christmas sweet rolls, heat the wassail, dish up the fruit cocktail, light the candles, and call everyone to breakfast. And be prepared for some surprised (but pleased) looks from your family.

Most of my teachers believed in work and advocated good work habits. But the one who made me appreciate this principle most was a custodian-teacher by the name of Thatcher Smith.
Thatcher understood how much my friends and I loved to play basketball. It would have been simple for him on Saturday mornings to throw us a key to the gym and rid himself of our pleadings. Instead he insisted we clean out the furnace, dump the cinders, and clean the showers in exchange for playing basketball. We were required to work for our play.
Thatcher’s “gym rats” over a period of years became championship teams. Those same young men, in the passage of time, have worked and earned degrees and achievements in a variety of businesses and professions. Most have gained full understanding of the “sweat-of-thy-brow” concept.

On Saturday, 25 June 2022, the Church’s London Friendship Centre hosted the “Great Get Together” event at the Kennington chapel, Walworth, in southeast London.
With Friendship Centre directors Elder Daniel and Sister Laurie Clegg at the helm, a committee was set up. They got to work organising what turned out to be a wonderful day full of games, dancing, fun, laughter, and a barbecue. A similar event had taken place in 2019, when approximately 200 people attended; in 2022 there was a similar number at the event.
The event was further blessed by the presence of the mayor of Southwark, Councillor Sunil Chopra. In his remarks he thanked the Friendship Centre for empowering asylum seekers, refugees, and migrants through the teaching of English, as well as offering general friendship. He added, “There should be no place for hatred in our society. The Great Get Together is a great initiative that allows people to come together to understand each other’s needs and … cultures. Understanding, acceptance, and humanity in the heart can provide a homely feeling to the people who have joined our community. We want to create a culture of inclusiveness where everyone who is joining our country can borrow and share opportunities to thrive.”
He also expressed his appreciation to everyone present for emulating the principle of inclusivity. Along with positive feedback received from attendees, it was evident that the event was a great success in bringing together a diverse group of people for a fun day.

The ancient Greeks of Sparta used a scytale, or wooden baton, to code their messages. A leather strip was wound in a spiral around the baton, and a message was then written along the wrapped strip. When the strip was removed, the message resembled a jumbled group of letters and half-letters. The person who received the message wound the strip around another scytale, and the message became visible.

What would the city fathers think if on a given day I showed up on one of the runways of the Idaho Falls airport or the middle of one of the grassy fields in Freeman Park with a backhoe and started digging large holes? When they asked me what I was doing, I would respond that I wanted to dig up the old garbage that I had made over the years.
I suspect they would tell me that there was no way to identify my personal garbage, that it had been reclaimed and buried long ago. I’m sure that they would tell me that I had no right to dig up the garbage and that I was destroying something very beautiful and useful that they had made out of my garbage. In short, I don’t think they would be very pleased with me. I suppose that they would wonder why anyone would want to destroy something so beautiful and useful in an attempt to dig up old garbage.

Many of the actors described how filming the videos helped them see how even a single verse can have power and tell a big story in just a few words.
Tatum says, “One of the most powerful scenes was when we filmed Ishmael’s death. We literally had to cry for three hours, just mourn over our father. It was exhausting for every one of us, but also very touching.
“I looked up the scene in the scriptures, and it was just one line. It was at this moment where I realized each verse in the scriptures is so powerful and so important—and how sometimes we gloss over the scriptures. But really we could miss so much by just skipping a verse.”

While the decisions we make determine our course, we can revise that course by choosing to repent of our sins. As we change our path and seek forgiveness, the Savior’s infinite Atonement makes it possible for us to ultimately feel peace. One reader shares her feelings about finding the Lord’s peace:
“I am a young woman, 17 years old. I was baptized when I was 11. When I turned 14, I started dating a boy who was not a member of the Church and I became less-active. I did things that were wrong, and I felt dirty. I could not forgive myself, and I thought the Lord would not forgive me either.
“One day I saw two missionaries. For some reason, I felt the desire to pray again. I went home and offered a prayer to Heavenly Father. Then I got out my Book of Mormon and began to read. That Sunday I went to church and heard one of the missionaries bear his testimony. His words filled me with a desire to obtain a true testimony.
“As I prayed, read the scriptures, and fasted, I came to know the gospel is true, and I was filled with sorrow for what I had done. I told my branch president everything. I was so ashamed I felt my heart had shattered. He called a disciplinary council, and I was placed on probation.
“One night I read about Alma’s conversion in Alma 36:15–21. Tears filled my eyes. I knelt down and said: ‘Lord, free me from my sins as You did Alma. I know You can forgive my sins by the power of the atoning blood of Jesus Christ.’ At that moment, I felt a great power in my body. Among the tears on my face was a smile of joy. I felt, as did Alma, an exquisite joy.
“When my probation ended, my branch president called me to serve as secretary of the Young Women, branch music director, and a Primary teacher. I know Jesus Christ atoned for our sins and wants us to repent and return to Him.”