Gospel Story Finder

Daniel was playing football with his friends when he saw Joseph sitting alone, watching. Joseph wasn’t very good at football. But Daniel decided that he wanted Joseph to be included more than he wanted to win the game. He jogged over to Joseph and asked, “Do you want to play with us?”
Daniel chose the right.

In response to counsel from Parley P. Pratt, Wilford Woodruff traveled to Kirtland, Ohio, in April 1834 to join Zion’s Camp. Brother Woodruff’s account of his first meeting with the Prophet Joseph Smith is instructive for all of us:
“Here for the first time in my life I met and had an interview with our beloved Prophet Joseph Smith, the man whom God had chosen to bring forth His revelations in these last days. My first introduction was not of a kind to satisfy the preconceived notions of the sectarian mind as to what a prophet ought to be, and how he should appear. It might have shocked the faith of some men. I found him and his brother Hyrum out shooting at a mark with a brace of pistols. When they stopped shooting, I was introduced to Brother Joseph, and he shook hands with me most heartily. He invited me to make his habitation my home while I tarried in Kirtland. This invitation I most eagerly accepted, and was greatly edified and blest during my stay with him.”9

My mid-teens were years when there was a confluence of conditions that tried and vexed me. Those are years when peer approval weighs so heavily. I found myself contending with shortness of stature, shyness, a home with outdoor plumbing, and a 4-H pig project, each of which had by then become an embarrassment. The periodic pain can be smiled at now but was real enough then. Programmed by doting uncles (and myself) in early childhood to love basketball and to aspire to be all-state, I had (until this period) been more adept at basketball than most peers. Soon I started not making the first string, then the second, and then the squad. It was a bitter pill. This failure (for the first time in athletic affairs) cruelly combined with other indications that I was for the first time outside that hard to define but real inner circle. It was a time of long thoughts. Somehow being at home feeding the pigs was not like working out with the team, especially when the boy down the block (whom I had helped somewhat to learn to play basketball) was where I wanted to be: he went on to be all-state, which he deserved.
During this time, I noticed that recycling regrets didn’t change reality. Pawing through the past was not productive. (This period was the time when my aspirations got diverted to the world of words, where there was a teacher who would not let me pass without genuine achievement.) Thus an insight dawned—not all at once—showing me that too much attention to what might have been actually gets in the way of what still can be.

Ten-year-old David took a piece of bread from the sacrament tray and placed it in his mouth. He nudged the white-haired gentleman next to him and whispered, “Brother Graham, the bread is here.”
Brother Graham raised his head, opened his eyes, and smiled warmly at David as he took the sacrament. Then he passed the tray on, bowed his head, and closed his eyes again.
David tried to keep his mind on some of his favorite stories about Jesus as the bread and water were passed. But he couldn’t help wondering why Brother Graham always fell asleep during the sacrament, when he seemed wide awake during all the rest of the meeting. I guess being old is like that, he thought. You can fall asleep anywhere at anytime. That’s how Grandpa Owen is, but he’s a lot older than Brother Graham.
The last time he’d seen Grandpa Owen, he was sitting in a reclining chair with his feet propped up. Even though it was June, he’d had a fire in the wood stove and a blanket across his legs. While the family visited with each other, Grandpa dozed off. When he woke up, you could tell that he’d been sleeping because his eyes looked like he was trying to focus them.
When the water was passed, David decided to pay close attention to Brother Graham’s eyes when he opened them. They were clear and alert as he opened them to take the sacrament. And he smiled so warmly at David that he was sure that the older man hadn’t just woke up. Then what is he doing? David wondered.
When his family had moved to Smithfield the previous July, David had felt sad. Before, for years he had stopped by Grandpa’s every day after school. He’d spent a lot of his summers taking walks with Grandpa around the neighborhood, listening to him tell about how things were in the “olden days.”
When Grandpa couldn’t walk anymore, David had pushed his wheelchair. When even that became too tiring for Grandpa, David read to him. But since his Dad had been transferred and they’d had to move, David couldn’t do any of that anymore. He just swung idly in the hammock in the backyard.
“You look like a strong boy,” a deep voice had called out to him one afternoon through a knothole in the back fence. “Do you want a job mowing my lawn?”
“Who, me?” David sat up, startled. “Yes, I guess so.”
“Be at my front door in five minutes if you want the job.”
“Mom,” he yelled as he ran in the kitchen door, “I have a job!”
“Great! Doing what?”
“Mowing the lawn next door! But I have to be at his front door in five minutes if I want the job. Probably three minutes by now. Is it OK?”
“All right. But if you take the job, do the best work you can.”
David was out of breath when he rang the doorbell. “I’m Brother Graham,” the man who answered the door told him. “What’s your name, young fellow?”
“David Andersen,” he replied, taking the out-stretched hand.
“I’m glad to meet you, David. I’ve met your parents at church and have been meaning to get over to your house to meet you for several weeks now, but I’ve been in bed with a summer cold. Meanwhile my yard has grown shabby. I’m mighty glad to have someone take over the mowing for me. The pay’s modest, but I’ll try to be good company for you. Is five dollars enough?”
“That’s great!” David answered.
“Let’s go out back, and I’ll show you the shed where the lawn mower is so that you can get started.”
“Shall I start now?” David asked.
“Go ahead. I’ll sit over there on that bench under the tree and watch, if you don’t mind.”
David pulled out the mower, checked its fuel tank, and started it up. He mowed around the edge of the entire backyard. It made a neat rectangle. Then he moved the mower inside the first rectangle and made a smaller rectangle inside, making sure that the mower blade overlapped the first swath so that none of the grass would be missed. Just the way Grandpa Owen taught me, he thought.
“I can tell you’ve mowed lawns before,” Brother Graham praised him when he finished the backyard. “I think you’ll do just fine. When you finish the front yard, let me know and I’ll give you your pay.”
When David finished mowing, he surveyed his work. It looked great, except for the edges. He remembered what his mother had said: “If you take the job, do the best work you can.” When he took the mower back to the shed, he looked around for a trimmer. All he saw were hand clippers hanging on the wall. Thinking, It will go faster if I use our trimmer, he ran home and poked his head inside the kitchen door. “Mom, is it OK if I use our trimmer on Brother Graham’s yard? He doesn’t have one.”
“That’s fine,” she called from the laundry room.
He grabbed the trimmer and the long extension cord from its hook in the garage and headed back next door. Brother Graham was sitting under the tree, sipping lemonade. There was a second glassful on the table, and five silver dollars.
“I thought you’d be thirsty,” Brother Graham said, nodding towards the glass.
“I am,” David said. “But I want to trim the edges first. Do you have someplace where I can plug in this extension cord?”
“There’s an outlet next to the back door, and another one by the front door. I’ll go find another dollar for you. I didn’t realize I was going to get such fine service.”
David shook his head, “The trimming is on the house.”
After he finished the trimming, he and Brother Graham visited while they sipped their lemonade. Brother Graham reminded David of Grandpa Owen. David was happy when Brother Graham asked him to mow the lawn every Thursday—and to visit any time!
The next Sunday he invited Brother Graham to sit with his family. After that it became a tradition. Every week Brother Graham sat next to David, and every week, David had to nudge him before he took the sacrament bread and water.
It was Thursday, lawn-mowing day, before David next went to Brother Graham’s. His family had taken a few days to visit Grandpa Owen. When they’d arrived, he hadn’t recognized any of them. David thought, almost angrily, Why doesn’t Grandpa know me?
Brother Graham noticed David’s quiet mood when he came to collect his pay after mowing and trimming the lawn. Motioning for David to sit on the sofa, he handed the boy a cold glass of lemonade, then sat down himself.
Pictures of several families hung on the wall. On top of the piano was a picture of a young woman. It was an old-fashioned picture, so David guessed that it must be Sister Graham.
“That’s my wife, Martha,” Brother Graham said. Pointing to each of the family pictures, he named his children and grandchildren. “That’s my family, David. The older I get, the more I realize that all that matters in this life is a man’s family and the other people he grows to love—like his neighbors!” He winked at David.
David smiled.
“So there is a smile behind that sober face today, after all. Is something troubling you, Davy, my boy?”
Tears welled up unbidden in David’s eyes. “That’s what Grandpa Owen calls me. At least, that’s what he used to call me.” He told Brother Graham all about his grandpa and about how he didn’t even recognize David any more. “It just isn’t fair!”
Brother Graham sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. His lips were drawn tight. “I know what you mean, David,” he said after a few moments. Opening his eyes, he leaned toward David. “Martha didn’t know me, either, just before she died. It hurt a lot. Then one day I read a story in the New Testament that changed how I felt about it.
“You see, just after Jesus was crucified, two of His disciples were walking down a road, talking, and a stranger joined them. He asked them why they were so sad. They told him about Jesus and how He had been crucified. They told him how discouraged they were. They had believed that Jesus would free Israel from the Romans. They couldn’t believe that He had let Himself be crucified. They told the stranger that some of the women who were friends of Jesus had gone to His tomb and found it empty. They didn’t know what it meant.
“Then the stranger taught them from the scriptures why it was necessary for Jesus to suffer the things He had, and about the Resurrection.
“By then, they had reached their destination, and they asked the stranger to stay and eat with them. Then, when the stranger took bread and broke it and blessed it and gave it to them, they gasped in astonishment. The stranger was no stranger at all—it was Jesus! How could He have walked with them so long without their recognizing him? they asked each other. ‘Did not our heart burn within us … while he opened to us the scriptures?’*
“Then Martha’s not knowing me didn’t seem so hard. I just became even more thankful that because of our Savior and His Atonement and Resurrection, someday Martha and I will be together again. Her mind will be clear again, and just as the two disciples of Jesus Christ once again recognized, or “knew” Him, she will know me then—probably better than she ever did in this life. Your grandpa will know you, too, David. It will be one of the sweetest reunions in heaven, I’m sure.”
David wiped the tears from his eyes. He knew what the disciples meant when they said their hearts burned. “Thank you, Brother Graham. That helps me a lot.”
After a few minutes of silence David asked, “Brother Graham, may I ask you something?”
“Go ahead, David. Ask me anything.”
“It’s about church. Why do you always close your eyes while they pass the sacrament? At first I thought you were asleep. But I soon figured out that you weren’t.”
“I’m thinking about that story I told you, about the disciples of Jesus not knowing who He was. I try to remember what I’ve done during the week that would make it hard for me to recognize Him. Then I ask for forgiveness for the mistakes I’ve made and for help to do better in the coming week. I really want to know the Savior the first time I see Him face-to-face, David. I believe that He gave us the sacrament to help prepare us for that day.”
“That’s what I’ll think about, too, from now on—and that someday Grandpa Owen will know me again.”
Mr. Graham smiled. “I’m sure that he will.”

Margaret Lenan Ellis was volunteering as a public affairs specialist when she was tasked with searching out and joining her local community interfaith organisation. With no such organisation in Ballarat, Victoria, she founded the Ballarat Interfaith Network. Its purpose is to demonstrate our connection as part of the human family, expanding understanding and building bridges between faiths, philosophies, and spiritual perspectives. Over the past 20 years, the network’s events have built friendships, respect, peace, love, and service to God and others.

Margaret helped initiate friendship walks between the mosque, synagogue, and various Christian churches in the city. Forums with panellists from different faiths have addressed spiritual and community concerns.

Ballarat Interfaith Network has hosted open barbecues for new mosque openings and supported the building of Buddhist and Hindu temples (with a similar endorsement anticipated for the Sikh community).

Under Margaret’s direction, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints hosts a yearly choral festival in local cathedrals, featuring both religious and nonreligious choirs. “The cathedral is always packed, and the feeling of joy and goodwill it generates is especially palpable in the combined-choirs finale.”

I started kindergarten at age four, which was a little bit early. I wanted to go because my friends were starting. I had one friend who was 11 months older than I was, and I had other friends who had birthdays throughout the year before me. My parents didn’t know if I should start that young or not, but I wanted to.
The people at the school didn’t know if I should start that early, either. At that time, I couldn’t even say my name correctly. I was pronouncing it “Wynn Gwant Wobbins.” When my mother took me to school, they said, “Well, he can’t even say his name correctly.” Then I said, “Lynn Grant Robbins,” as clearly as I should have, and they let me in.

Sabine’s joy has expanded as her own testimony of the gospel has become strong. “I felt I had to know for myself if what I believe is the right thing. I also decided to receive my patriarchal blessing. I did a lot of praying and searching and talking to people and asking questions and finding out for myself. But everything fits. You get this feeling inside that, of course, this is the right thing. It is so amazing.”
One scripture that especially speaks to Sabine is in Doctrine and Covenants 88:63. [D&C 88:63] It talks about seeking and finding, asking and receiving the answers, knocking and opening. For her, it works. “It’s so clear. If you do this, that will happen.” And as Sabine finds the answers and draws near to the Lord, she brings her friends with her, introducing practically everyone she meets to the gospel. Missionary work is so natural to her; it’s just a part of her life.

Shortly after hearing of the attacks, the First Presidency released a statement expressing “profound sympathy to those whose loved ones, friends, and associates were lost or injured in today’s senseless acts of violence. We offer our prayers in behalf of the innocent victims of these vicious attacks. We ask our Heavenly Father to guide [U.S.] President [George W.] Bush and his advisors as they respond to these devastating incidents.

“We join with others in prayers that the Savior’s peace and love will comfort and guide us all through this difficult time.”

Elaine Hales, 12, of Ellensburg, Washington, was selected as one of 27 children from the Northwest to tour the Soviet Union as a Young Storyteller for Peace. They visited schools in several cities in Russia and performed the stories they have prepared.

In addition to storytelling, Elaine enjoys singing, playing the piano, reading, and needlework. Elaine is a Beehive in the Ellensburg Second Ward, Selah Washington Stake.

A group of youth in London, England, decided to interview local members and learn about their lives. “I really enjoyed going to visit an elderly member of our ward who was in World War II,” said one of the youth. “It helped me see this brother in a different light as I realized some of what he had been through and what made him who he is.”

Years ago, while at the beach with my family, I noticed signs and flags warning us of a strong current flowing away from the shore into deep, turbulent water. Invisible to my untrained eyes but easily detected by lifeguards on a nearby watchtower, the powerful current posed a danger to all who left the safety of the shore and entered the water. I remember rationalizing, “I’m a strong swimmer. Swimming will be great exercise. I’ll be safe in the shallow water.”
Ignoring the warnings and feeling confident in my own judgment, I entered the water to enjoy a “refreshing” swim. After a few minutes I looked up to locate my family on the nearby beach, but the beach was no longer nearby! The deceptive current I had been warned of had captured me and was quickly pulling me away from my family.
Confidently at first and then desperately, I tried to swim toward shore, but the unforgiving current dragged me farther and farther into deeper, rougher water. I became exhausted and began choking on inhaled water. Drowning became a real possibility. My energy gone, I frantically and finally called out for help.
Miraculously, it seemed, a lifeguard was immediately at my side. I wasn’t aware that he had watched me go into the water. He knew the current would capture me, and he knew where it would take me. Avoiding the current, he swam around and just beyond where I was struggling; then he patiently waited for me to call for help. Too weak to swim to shore alone, I was and still am grateful for his rescue. Without his help I never could have made it back to my family.

“Families Can Be Together Forever” is a well-known hymn of members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Members work assiduously to find their family members going back as far as Adam and Eve. This has led many members to find lineage with famous people who have lived on the earth. One such member is Sister Clevene Clarke (nee Bogle).
Through FamilySearch.org, a website accessible to the general public, Clevene was able to create her family tree by adding all their living and deceased family members. The website also provided other avenues to seek family, including indexing. Memories is a new addition to the FamilySearch website. This allows anyone to add stories, pictures, voice recordings and video recordings of themselves or family members.
For Clevene, FamilySearch has led her to find lineage with Paul Bogle, who is one of Jamaica’s seven national heroes. The information she has received depicts that Paul Bogle is her great great-great-grand uncle. The research and her knowledge of Jamaican history came alive for Clevene as she looked into who Paul Bogle actually was.
Sister Clarke feels very uneasy about not finding all the records for Paul Bogle. Nevertheless, she says “I am very proud to know that I am related to someone who aided in defending the rights of our ancestors. It brings a feeling of sheer respect and awe that such a man was my uncle. I have been blessed with a rich heritage to share with my children and grandchildren. It is truly a marvellous work and a wonder to behold our genealogy, it is almost as if you walk with your ancestors. I am glad to reminisce and walk with Paul back in time.”

In September 1938 I was 15 years old and lived in the little Swiss village of Gilly, between Geneva and Lausanne, in the Swiss canton of Vaud.
One day I returned home from school and found Mamma (Geneviève Emilie Pauline Gay) visiting with two young gentlemen, one from Canada and one from the United States. They were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were living in the nearby village of Nyon. My mother was helping them improve their French language skills. She told me that she was very happy to help, and I met them several times. Then one day Mamma told me that the young gentlemen had left Nyon. Over the years, Mamma and I wondered what had become of them.
I grew up, married, and moved to central France with my husband. In 1990 we were living in the small town of Beaumont in Puy de Dôme when by chance I came upon a magazine article in Le Point, a current affairs magazine. The article was called “Recenser l’humanité depuis Adam et Eve” (“To take a census of humanity since Adam and Eve”). It told about the work of genealogical research and baptism for the dead in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I read, I experienced a great shock that took me back more than half a century. For several days after reading the article, I felt unsettled, as if I must do something. I thought of my mother, who had always had much faith and goodwill toward other religions and had passed away in 1978. I also thought of my father, who had died in 1937.
Finally, I wrote a letter to Mr. Patrick Coppin, director of acquisitions for the Genealogical Society of Utah, who had been mentioned in the article. I asked if the names of my mother and father might be included in the genealogy of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and if they could receive the blessings of the Church. I included my parents’ birth, marriage, and death dates.
I also included something else: the names and addresses of Elder Brigham Y. Card of Cardston, Alberta, Canada, and Elder Jay Lees of Salt Lake City. They had written their names and addresses on the back of a photograph they had given my mother 52 years earlier.
Three weeks later, I received a letter from Elder Card telling me it would be his joy to act as proxy in the temple ordinances for my mother and father. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read his letter, but it took me several days to realize what this meant for my parents. On 28 June 1990, my parents were baptized, endowed, and sealed in the Jordan River Temple, with Elder Card and his wife, daughter, and son-in-law acting as proxies. My parents had received the blessings of the temple.

I am an inmate at the Utah State Prison. Last year I got a card from my mom and dad that said they were giving me a year’s subscription to the New Era. I told them that it was a waste of money, considering where I was. But I soon changed my mind when I received my first copy and learned what it was all about. I love the New Era. It makes me feel good inside when I read it. It helps me come closer to God, and it gives me a better attitude about life. I want to say to all the youth of the Church that it is for you that your parents tell you to be home by 10:00. All the things they tell you will help you. If I had done all that my mom and dad told me, I would not be here in prison. I pray that you will all listen to your parents and stay close to your Father in heaven.
Name Withheld

The very next year Lorenzo Snow, who later became the fifth president of the Church, was called to open a mission in Italy. But he and his two companions could not find anyone interested in their message. Discouraged, he wrote, “I see no possible means of accomplishing our object. All is darkness.”

On September 18, 1850, Lorenzo Snow and his two companions climbed a high mountain in northern Italy and on a large projecting rock offered a fervent prayer for guidance. They were then inspired to dedicate the land for the preaching of the gospel, and they named the rock upon which they stood “The Rock of Prophecy.”

Before leaving the mountain, the missionaries sang “The Hymn of the Vaudois Mountaineers in Times of Persecution.” The strains of this song had floated down into the valleys many times from high caves and fissures in the rocks where the persecuted had been hiding. It had been a rallying cry as the Vaudois took up arms to fortify their mountain passes. It had been sung in thanksgiving in their church services. Now the three missionaries, standing on The Rock of Prophecy, sang the stirring words:
For the strength of the hills we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God;
Thou hast made thy children mighty
By the touch of the mountain sod.

At seventeen, John registered at Brigham Young College in Logan. Two years later he graduated, and soon after that, he boarded a train bound for Cambridge, Massachusetts, and Harvard University. The venture was financed by bank loans and mortgages against his mother’s property. It was at Harvard that John met his future wife, Leah Eudora Dunford, who attended classes there one summer. In 1894 John graduated in chemistry with highest honors and accepted a job as professor of chemistry and as chemist at the experiment station at Utah State Agricultural College (now Utah State University) in Logan.

Another serviceman said, “During my 13 months in Southeast Asia, I heard from my sweetheart every day. During her busy days caring for our five children and attending school, she completed every day by writing me a letter. Think of it! Almost 400 days without a single miss!”

It occurred when this most treasured, little son was nearly three years old. One day, suddenly and without warning, he stopped breathing and fell to the floor, apparently lifeless. My husband was not home, and I called my ten-year-old daughter, Nancy, to get help as I carried him to the bedroom. As I worked to revive him, I literally, cried out unto the Lord. I begged him to spare our only son. I promised that I would dedicate myself to training him up to be an instrument in the hands of God if he would be spared. The police arrived with their emergency equipment. I continued in fervent, vocal prayer to the Lord, petitioning him to restore our little boy. The doctor arrived. Just as a stimulant was to be injected directly into his heart as a final emergency measure, he cried. My prayers had been answered, but I was to receive further testimony of this in a most unexpected way.
The next morning, our son climbed on his daddy’s knee. “I was sitting on the lap of Jesus,” he said. Then he went on, “He looked into my eyes. I was so happy. I wanted to stay there with him, but he told me I had to go back home to you.” Even now, twenty-four years later, our son remembers vividly the reciprocal love he experienced during his brief “step out of time.” He is vigorous and well, living with his lovely wife and a little son of his own as he continues to serve the Lord.

As a teenager, David was the only consistently active member of the Church in his family. He has an older brother and sister and a younger brother. “Having to stay active alone can either push you away or pull you in. I guess it pulled me in.”
David said, “I looked up to several people in my ward. I wanted to be around people who understood the gospel. To me the Book of Mormon is so obviously good and right. It just exudes this goodness. When you read it you feel like the Lord is right there and nodding his head. I’ve had to do a lot of soul searching, but I felt like I had the testimony to see me through.”

A young man said that while playing on his soccer and basketball teams, he had to tell his coaches that he would not be able to play on Sundays. This was hard to do as he felt a commitment to the team, but his coaches were very impressed with his commitment to his religion. Later, he invited his soccer team to visit the church meetinghouse. All the players and the parents were impressed with the beauty of the church and had lots of questions about the pictures inside.