Gospel Story Finder

The payment of tithing also brings the individual tithe payer unique spiritual as well as temporal blessings. During World War II my widowed mother supported her three young children on a meager schoolteacher’s salary. When I became conscious that we went without some desirable things because we didn’t have enough money, I asked my mother why she paid so much of her salary as tithing. I have never forgotten her explanation: “Dallin, there might be some people who can get along without paying tithing, but we can’t because we are poor. The Lord has chosen to take your father and leave me to raise you children. I cannot do that without the blessings of the Lord, and I obtain those blessings by paying an honest tithing. When I pay my tithing, I have the Lord’s promise that He will bless us, and we must have those blessings if we are to get along.”
As a lifelong recipient of those blessings, I testify to the goodness of our God and His bounteous blessings to His tithe-paying children.

My message is that we are doing better. Fathers and mothers are pleading for unity in their homes, and those prayers are being answered. Families are praying together night and morning. I was invited to kneel at bedtime with a family when I was a guest in their home. The smallest child was asked to be voice. He prayed like a patriarch for every person in the family, by name. I opened my eyes for an instant to see the faces of the other children and the parents. I could tell that they were joining their faith and their hearts in that little boy’s prayer.

I also often spent time in the homes of my two uncles as I played with my cousins. I especially liked being there when it was time for family prayer. Uncle Carl was a farmer. When he prayed, he concentrated on really talking to Heavenly Father, thanking Him for his many blessings and humbly pleading for moisture for the crops. Uncle Angus was the father of six lively boys, and he prayed for the guidance and protection of his sons. When these two men prayed, I knew that Heavenly Father was listening. I got the same warm feeling while kneeling in family prayer with them that I did while on my grandpa’s lap listening to scripture stories.

When I was a student, one of my roommates asked me a lot of questions about the physical signs of the covenants I had made in the holy temple. In response, I invited him to attend sacrament meeting and Sunday School to learn more about things of eternal value that could bring him lasting joy.
At that stage of our lives, as a young man, he prioritized other activities that he felt could make him happy.
When we completed our studies, we both found jobs at the same company. I continued to lovingly counsel him without pressuring him. Seventeen years later, after he had been instructed by the power of the Holy Spirit, he agreed to join the Church with his wife and two children. A year later, he was sealed in the Accra Ghana Temple. So great was his joy that he never missed an opportunity to teach the doctrine of Christ and to invite others to come to Christ. I always showed love to my friend, to the point that I never condemned him when his heart was set on the pleasures of the world.

Lucy Mack Smith spoke in general conference in 1845, after all of the Book of Mormon witnesses in her family had died of illness or been killed. She told a story from her son Samuel’s first mission.

Samuel, one of the Eight Witnesses, visited the home of Rhoda Greene, whose husband was on a mission for another church. Samuel asked Rhoda if she would like a book. “It is a Book of Mormon that my Brother Joseph translated from plates out of the ground,” he explained.

Rhoda accepted a copy of the book to read and show her husband. When Samuel returned later, Rhoda told him her husband had no interest, and she could not buy the book. Sad, Samuel took the book and began to leave. Rhoda later told Lucy that Samuel then paused and looked at her. “She never saw a man look so,” Lucy said in her conference talk. “She knew that he had the Spirit of God.”

“The Spirit forbids me taking this book,” Samuel told Rhoda, who knelt and asked Samuel to pray with her. She kept the book, read it, and received a testimony of it. So, eventually, did her husband. They chose to abide by its precepts throughout their lives.

“And thus the work began,” Lucy testified, “and then it spread like a mustard seed.”10

In May of 2020 after Keoni and I were asked to come to BYU–Hawaii, I was assigned to give my first devotional talk. At first, I was okay. But, as I started preparing my talk, fear of inadequacy overcame me. I didn't know how to move forward. I was scared that I wasn't going to be as good as the people who came before me and that I couldn’t be what everyone needed me to be. During this time of being fearful, a friend and mentor of mine sent me a message. In the message, they reminded me that the Lord has asked me to do this. Their simple encouragement gave me the confidence I needed. It reminded me that the Lord asked me to fulfill this role. It helped remind me that the Lord knows me, and He will help me. It is so very important in life to be surrounded by others who also want to stay on the covenant path so that we can help each other through hard times. What a difference good friendships and positive relationships have made in my efforts to live the gospel and to overcome my personal fears and challenges. Choose friends that can do that for you!

Blessings come from holding true to our principles. When I was the president of the Cottonwood stake, one of our stake patriarchs was Dr. Creed Haymond. He would occasionally bear strong testimony of the Word of Wisdom. As a young man he was the captain of the University of Pennsylvania track team. In 1919 Brother Haymond and his team were invited to participate in the annual Inter-Collegiate Association track meet. The night before the track meet, his coach, Lawson Robertson, who later coached several Olympic teams, instructed his team members to drink some sherry wine. In those days, coaches wrongly felt that wine was a tonic for muscles hardened through rigorous training. All the other team members took the sherry, but Brother Haymond refused because his parents had taught him the Word of Wisdom. Brother Haymond became very anxious because he did not like to be disobedient to his coach. He was to compete against the fastest men in the world. What if he made a poor showing the next day? How could he face his coach?

The next day at the track meet the rest of the team members were very ill and performed poorly or were even too sick to run. Brother Haymond, however, felt well and won the 100- and 220-yard dashes. His coach told him, “You just ran the two hundred and twenty yards in the fastest time it has ever been run by any human being.” That night and for the rest of his life, Creed Haymond was grateful for his simple faith in keeping the Word of Wisdom.

A missionary activity had been planned in the stake where I was serving. My companion and I were to briefly explain a gospel principle to the investigators who would attend. However, when we arrived at the meetinghouse, we discovered that hardly any investigators had come. Instead of teaching the principle as we had originally planned, we were asked to go out into the street and invite the people passing by to come and take part in the activity.
Truthfully, I couldn’t help but think, “This is not going to work.” I felt that our efforts would be fruitless—that no one would accept the invitation to just come to the activity, particularly with such little notice.
But we understood the importance of obedience, so my companion and I tried to invite people to come in. Not much later, a woman and her daughter and her daughter’s boyfriend passed by. We invited them to come in. At first they were hesitant, but finally they accepted the invitation and joined the group inside. I was surprised but very happy.
The activity started: a gospel-centered musical presentation. The activity lasted more than an hour. I worried that our guests were angry because the event lasted so long, but I had a prayer in my heart asking for everything to work out well.
When the activity ended, I approached them to apologize for taking so much of their time. Before I could say a word to them, the woman said, “Thank you. Thank you so much. It was very beautiful. Thank you.”
I was astonished; they were thanking us for the experience, and they weren’t concerned about the time. It was marvelous, and there was joy in my heart. (And to think that I had been saying that inviting people on the street wasn’t going to work!) The woman wanted to know more about the Church and to attend our Sunday meetings.
I learned something great from this experience: exercising just a little faith, even if it is nothing more than a desire to believe, can yield great fruits (see Alma 32:27–28).
This experience changed my attitude for the rest of my mission. From that time on, at each missionary activity, I would see the fruits of my labors when I went forth with hope and an eye of faith.
If we exercise faith, even when we think it cannot come to pass, we can obtain delicious fruits. What we see as impossible is not impossible for God.

Just a few weeks ago, in Guatemala City, Guatemala, I witnessed a modern miracle—even the result of God’s guidance given to His servants and the blessing of His people.

At a regional conference, almost twelve thousand members filled the Estadio del Ejercito, the local soccer stadium. The sun bathed with its rays the large gathering, while the Spirit of the Lord filled every heart. This was a day of thanksgiving, marking the forty-second anniversary of the arrival of the first missionaries to that land. John Forres O’Donnal spoke to the vast throng. He it was who, in 1946, stood alone as the only member of the Church in that nation. Personally importuning then President George Albert Smith, Brother O’Donnal facilitated the entry of the first missionaries. His wife, Carmen Galvez de O’Donnal, became the first convert and was baptized on November 13, 1948. This day of conference, as throughout the years of their marriage, she sat by her husband’s side.

While President O’Donnal spoke, my thoughts drifted back to the many missionaries who had come to this land and the hardships they endured, the sacrifices they made, and the lives they blessed. The experience of one describes the devotion of all. While I have, on a previous occasion, mentioned the experience of this missionary, following my recent visit to Guatemala I felt impressed to share it with you once again.

While serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randall Ellsworth survived a devastating earthquake, which hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzing his legs and severely damaging his kidneys. He was the only American injured in the quake, which claimed the lives of some eighteen thousand persons.

After receiving emergency medical treatment, Elder Ellsworth was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While he was confined there, a newscaster conducted with him an interview that I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?”

The answer, “Not yet, but I will.”

“Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?”

Came the reply: “Others think not, but I will. With the President of my church praying for me, and through the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will walk, and I will return to Guatemala. The Lord wanted me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”

There followed a lengthy period of therapy, punctuated by silent yet heroic courage. Little by little, the feeling began to return to the almost lifeless limbs. More therapy, more courage, more prayer.

At last Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he had been called, back to the people whom he loved. He left behind a trail of skeptics and a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the reward of determination.

In Guatemala, Randall pursued his responsibilities. He walked with the use of two canes. His walk was slow and deliberate. Then one day, as he stood before his mission president, Randall Ellsworth heard him speak the almost unbelievable words, “You have been the recipient of a miracle. Your faith has been rewarded. If you have the necessary confidence, if you have abiding faith, if you have supreme courage, place those two canes on my desk—and walk.”

Slowly, Randall placed one cane and then the other on the mission president’s desk, turned toward the door and toward his future—and walked.

Today, Randall Ellsworth is a practicing physician. He is a stalwart husband and a loving father. His mission president was none other than John Forres O’Donnal—the man who helped bring to Guatemala the word of the Lord, the leader who on Sunday, March 5, 1989, addressed the throng assembled for regional conference.

Forres O’Donnal visited my office not long ago and, in his modest manner, recounted his experience with Randall Ellsworth. He then said to me, “Together we have witnessed a miracle. I have kept one of the two canes placed upon my desk that day when I challenged Elder Ellsworth to walk without them. I would like you to have the other.” With a friendly smile, he departed the office and returned home to Guatemala.

This is the cane given to me. It serves as a silent witness of our Heavenly Father’s ability to hear our prayers and to bless our lives. It is a symbol of faith. It is a reminder of courage.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Mama! Matt took the last cookie!So? You were about to take it yourself.
You should at least give me half.OK. You can have the half I’m chewing.Mama! Matt’s being gross!
I’d like to read something that Jesus said: “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you.”*
That’s a hard commandment.Actually, our lives are a lot easier when we keep it.
All right, I’m sorry I didn’t share.You should be.
OK! I would have taken the last cookie myself, and I’m sorry I got mad.It’s all right. I’d have been mad, too.

Jennifer Johnson, 15, of Arvada, Colorado, is confined to a wheelchair and is deaf, but thanks to the help of friends, family, and ward members, she often feels just like “any other kid.”
Jennifer was born with spina bifida, and has had more than 25 surgeries in her short life. Recently, “News for Kids,” a nationally syndicated television program, featured Jennifer going through her classes at school and working at home with her sister Julianne to accomplish their chores.
Jennifer, a Mia Maid, loves going to church and attending Young Women activities. With the help of many, she’s attended YW camp for the past two years, which has been a real treat for her.
She also gets along well at school. “Kids sometimes make fun of me and tease me,” she says. “But I want to be treated like any other eighth grader.”

That trust has blessed my life and the lives of my family. Years ago I heard President Ezra Taft Benson speak in a conference like this. He counseled us to do all we could to get out of debt and stay out. He mentioned mortgages on houses. He said that it might not be possible, but it would be best if we could pay off all our mortgage debt.9
I turned to my wife after the meeting and asked, “Do you think there is any way we could do that?” At first we couldn’t. And then by evening I thought of a property we had acquired in another state. For years we had tried to sell it without success.
But because we trusted God and a few words from the midst of His servant’s message, we placed a phone call Monday morning to the man in San Francisco who had our property listed to sell. I had called him a few weeks before, and he had said then, “We haven’t had anyone show interest in your property for years.”
But on the Monday after conference, I heard an answer that to this day strengthens my trust in God and His servants.
The man on the phone said, “I am surprised by your call. A man came in today inquiring whether he could buy your property.” In amazement I asked, “How much did he offer to pay?” It was a few dollars more than the amount of our mortgage.
A person might say that was only a coincidence. But our mortgage was paid off. And our family still listens for any word in a prophet’s message that might be sent to tell what we should do to find the security and peace God wants for us.

Consider what you might do if placed in this situation. Early one morning, one of our senior couples serving in South Africa was awakened by a loud knocking at his door. Upon answering the door Elder Packer found two uniformed, armed policemen. They instructed him to dress and that he needed to come with them. They arrested him and placed him in a holding cell with all of the men who had been arrested that night. Some were intoxicated; some had committed robberies and many other offenses. He remained in the cell some nine hours and amazingly was not accosted or hurt. While in the cell, he asked himself, "Why would the Lord allow me to be placed here? He must have something in mind." He decided to discover the reason, and so he began speaking with the men. He even persuaded some to begin singing a few hymns with him. He realized, though innocent, there was an opportunity to stop worrying about himself and begin worrying about those around him. In other words, he put the needs of others ahead of his own.
As the day concluded, the missionary was being called "Elder" by the prisoners. They not only sang the hymns but they defended the missionary from less-than-honorable jail mates. He befriended several who were as innocent as he was. Many were blessed by the Lord through Elder Packer's sacrifice; and Elder Packer was lifted to a new level of understanding and vision of how the Lord can use him, even in prison. Forgetting his own discomforts, he placed others ahead of his feelings and fears.

“Papa is ready!” cried young Charles Otis. “We must gather as many people as we can.” The people to be gathered were spectators at the 1854 Crystal Palace Exhibition being held in New York City.
Norton nodded shyly. He was content to follow his older brother, who barked louder than all the other vendors. Soon they had gathered a curious crowd in front of their father’s “safety hoist.”
Slowly a rope lifted Otis, atop a platform, 40? (12 m) into the air, then stopped. As a hush fell over the crowd, another assistant leaned over from a high scaffold and began sawing vigorously on the hoisting rope! As the frayed ends parted, there was a collective gasp, and everyone scrambled backward to avoid the expected crash.
Miraculously, the elevator platform, with Otis still aboard, remained suspended, secured by Otis’s safety device. As Elisha doffed his hat, his aerial assistant was already attaching a new rope to the hoist. When it was securely fastened, the hoist glided down safely to the exhibition floor. At long last, the world had witnessed a safe passenger lift!

In graduate school I encountered several different experiences that were challenging for me. One of those experiences involved an initial review for my master’s degree in which I was asked to stand onstage and defend my work to the entire Art Department faculty. I don’t believe I was very articulate or persuasive at the time because I failed to pass the review. That experience was extremely disappointing to me and to Vicki, especially after we had encountered the challenges of moving 1,200 miles away and were scrimping to pay out-of-state tuition.

But rejection caused me to dig deeper and pushed me outside my comfort zone. Through additional research I became exposed to different points of view and different philosophies, and I was able to understand the context of criticism leveled at a large body of representational work. I also came to realize why it was possible to be drawn toward figurative work and how to develop a justification for doing so. Research allowed me to develop an informed justification and critical theory for what I was drawn to and what I wanted to explore as an artist. My work became more than rendering objects; it began to include interpretation and concept. My own experiences were projected into my work, and my work became more personal and symbolic. I think my art ultimately became more interesting, and I passed my second review.

Jenny was excited to visit her friend Anne, who had moved to New York, but she was also afraid. What if she missed her airplane? What if Anne wasn’t there to meet her?
Dad helped Jenny find the right place at the airport and hugged her good-bye. “Have a good time,” he said. Jenny felt nervous, but she remembered that in family prayer Mom had prayed for her safety.
On the flight, Jenny read a book and drank juice. After landing, she found Anne’s family waiting with big smiles on their faces. “Welcome to New York!” Anne cried.
During the week they played, hiked, picnicked, and shopped. They even saw the Palmyra Temple and the Sacred Grove. When it was time to fly home, Jenny felt brave. She found her seat—right next to the window!—and put on her seatbelt.
Just as the plane began speeding up, it slowed again. The engines quieted, then stopped. “Is something wrong?” Jenny worried to herself.
“We can’t take off yet because of thunderstorms,” the pilot announced.
Three hours later, the airplane was still sitting on the runway. “I should have been home by now,” Jenny moaned. The grouchy man next to her muttered some bad words, and she felt even worse.
At last, the plane took off. Everyone cheered, except the grouchy man, who scowled. Jenny watched the city lights disappear beneath the clouds, then fell asleep.
A sudden flash awoke her. She blinked out into the darkness. There it was again!—sizzling, crackling lightning. Her stomach turned cold. She had never seen lightning so near. Her hair stood on end, charged with static electricity. She wanted to ask someone what would happen if lightning struck the airplane, but everyone else was asleep. Even the flight attendants were out of sight.
Bam! Another blinding ray of light exploded outside.
“Heavenly Father,” Jenny silently prayed, “I’m scared. Please help me to feel better and get home safely.”
As thunder rumbled and the airplane shook, Jenny remembered her vacation. She had flown to New York without any trouble. She had played, hiked, and ridden in a car. She hadn’t scraped her knees, caught a cold, or gotten lost. She hadn’t even forgotten her toothbrush. Nothing had gone wrong. Suddenly she realized that all of those things were blessings from Heavenly Father.
“If He protected me on the ground,” she thought, “why can’t He protect me in the air?” Peace entered her heart. She knew that no matter where she went, as long as she was faithful, she would be in God’s hands.
She settled back into her chair and fell asleep. When she awoke, the lights of her hometown twinkled up at her. “Prepare for landing,” the pilot said. Jenny offered a prayer of thanks, grateful to be safely home again.

Last Christmas I talked to the proprietress of a Salt Lake City nursing home. From the hallway where we stood, she pointed to several elderly women assembled in a peaceful living room. She observed, “There’s Mrs. Hansen. Her daughter visits her every week, right at 3:00 p.m. on Sunday. To her right is Mrs. Peek. Each Wednesday there is a letter in her hands from her son in New York. It is read, then reread, then saved as a precious piece of treasure. But see Mrs. Carroll; her family never telephones, never writes, never visits. Patiently she justifies this neglect with words which are heard but do not convince or excuse, ‘They are all so busy.’” Shame on all who thus make of a noble woman “mother forgotten.”

She seemed to know instinctively that selfishness never led to happiness. I remember one summer being eager to give a birthday present to a young boy whom I babysat regularly. My mother didn’t give me a lecture on resources. Instead, we walked down to Main Street, where she purchased thirty-five cents’ worth of white broadcloth.
I helped tend my little brother as I watched her cut out a shirt with sleeves, interfacings, and a collar. After she carefully sewed the shirt together, she put on buttons from a worn-out shirt and made carefully hand-stitched buttonholes. The process seemed to take forever, but the new shirt was pressed and wrapped in time for the birthday, I remember the wonderful feeling I had as I presented the gift to the young neighbor. My mother’s gift to me was her time and effort and her support of my own desire to give.

In an art appreciation course I teach, I assign research and writing assignments on specific artworks. I remember one semester a student named Jennifer who did a research paper on Lorenzo Ghiberti’s sculpted north doors of the Florence baptistery. These doors have 28 relief panels that depict different events in the life of Christ. As it turned out, the following summer I accompanied a group of BYU Idaho students on a study program in Europe, and Jennifer was one of the students. For some reason, on the morning that our group was in Florence and walking toward the cathedral, I remembered that Jennifer had done that paper. As we neared the baptistery, I located Jennifer in the group, and when we got close, I casually pointed toward those doors and said “Jen, look over there”. Her reaction was what every teacher hopes for. She first screamed, and then tears filled her eyes as she simply muttered, “There it is”. The others in the group who were not as prepared for that experience did not have the same aesthetic response, and in fact might have walked right past without even noticing anything at all. The difference was education.

Elder Allan Forrest Packer remembers that as a boy of 10 or 12, he didn’t always feel that he was getting answers to his prayers. One day while working with his father, Boyd K. Packer, now President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, young Allan expressed his concern.
His father taught him by analogy, saying that pilots don’t use their parachutes every time they fly, but they are still in the practice of wearing them. President Packer encouraged his son to continue to pray, to be patient, and to have the faith that when an answer was needed, he would have one.
“That lesson helped me through the early years of developing my testimony,” says Elder Packer, recently called to the First Quorum of the Seventy.