Gospel Story Finder

My beloved brothers and sisters, as we welcome you to this historic April 2020 general conference of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, for reasons you know, I stand before you in an empty auditorium!
Little did I know, when I promised you at the October 2019 general conference that this April conference would be “memorable” and “unforgettable,” that speaking to a visible congregation of fewer than 10 people would make this conference so memorable and unforgettable for me! Yet the knowledge that you are participating by electronic transmission, and the choir’s beautiful rendition of “It Is Well with My Soul,” bring great comfort to my soul.
As you know, attendance at this general conference has been strictly limited as part of our efforts to be good global citizens and do all we can to limit the spread of COVID-19. This virus has had a major impact throughout the world. It has also altered our Church meetings, missionary service, and temple work for a while.

I was raised in a family in which we regularly had family home evenings. I remember that when I was a child, family home evenings were one of the most important events in my life, and I would wake up excitedly each Monday morning and remind my parents that family home evening was that night. Today as a young adult, I live with my parents and continue to spend this special time with my family each week.
Because our family consistently had family home evening from the time I was very young, I have always understood its importance. In Korea, where many parents and children are very busy and family time is rare, home evening is a wonderful opportunity to be together and strengthen each other.
Another blessing that has come from my parents’ efforts is that I’ve been given a firm foundation upon which to build my testimony of Jesus Christ. Though I learned the gospel in church, it was through family home evening lessons that I really came to understand its principles. As a result, I’ve been able to go to church and grow in the gospel based on my own faith and not on that of my parents.
Hye Ri Lee, Korea

And guess what! There’s a new girl named Debbie in our class at school. She has a funny accent and bright red hair. The boys call her “Carrot Top.”
One day while the three of us are walking into the cafeteria, Shiela says, “Look, there’s that new girl, Debbie.”
Laura and I glance across the crowded cafeteria to where the redhead sits eating alone. “She’s always by herself,” Shiela informs us. “It’s hard to be new. Let’s go eat lunch with her.”
“Good idea!” Laura and I say at the same time.
“Maybe we should make her some cookies after school,” Laura suggests with a smile. We all agree.
I smile too. It looks as though we are going to be secret pals to every new classmate. But that’s OK with me. I like doing it. You can never have enough friends.

In 1878, Aurelia Spencer Rogers suggested that children meet together weekly to learn about the Savior and about how to be good examples of believers. President John Taylor, then President of the Church, approved this idea, and the first Primary was organized.

The temple is a clean and quiet place where our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live. I have tasted the love of my Father in Heaven and the Savior in the temple; this cannot be expressed in words. When I did the baptisms for my ancestors, I felt that they thanked me from the other side. Tears flowed from my eyes at that special moment, testifying to me the truthfulness of the sacred ordinances performed for them in the holy temple.
I felt that I should have stayed for some more days in the temple but had to return back home which I did with a heavy heart.

We Wonder What Will Walter Be When He Grows Up? by Crockett Johnson. Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964. Walter seeks advice about his future but decides he is the only one to make the decision.

I grew up in a comfortable environment in Logan, Utah. I had no childhood worries about food or shelter or education. But perhaps because life was easy, I needed something to hold on to that would anchor me.
For me that anchor was the priesthood of God. I was in an unusual situation when I was growing up. My dad was called to be the bishop when I was a year old, and he was my bishop for 19 years. His fatherly and spiritual guidance was a tremendous help to me.
I think that is mostly why I looked forward to receiving the Aaronic Priesthood on my 12th birthday. I remember the special day I felt my father’s hands on my head as he ordained me. After that, I advanced through the offices of the Aaronic Priesthood and received callings I enjoyed very much.
Passing the sacrament was very special to me. You could see people commit themselves to obey the Lord and keep His commandments as they partook of the emblems of His body and blood.

Natalie dipped her brush into the orange paint and put the finishing touches on her newest picture. Orange swirled together with red, yellow, pink, and lavender watercolors to form a sunset behind majestic mountains.
“There! I’m finally finished,” she announced as she placed the painting on the kitchen counter to dry.
“It’s beautiful, Natalie,” Mom said as she admired the painting. “I think you have a good chance of winning the school art contest again this year.”
Just then, Jared, Natalie’s twelve-year-old brother, zipped through the kitchen. “Bye! I’m going to practice for the big race!” he yelled as the screen door slammed shut. In the next instant, his blond hair and blue eyes were seen poking into the kitchen again. “Hey, Nat! You’re still going to paint my go-cart for me, right?”
“Sure, Jared. I’ll do it after lunch. You’ll be back by then, won’t you?”
“I’ll make sure that I am!”
In the meantime, I’ll go try out my new bike tires, Natalie thought. Jared had put new tires on her bicycle, and in return, Natalie had agreed to paint bright red flames on the sides of his go-cart for the community go-cart race on Monday afternoon.
As she started to pedal down the street, she heard her friend Nicole calling her. “Natalie, my parents are taking me to the amusement park today, and they said that I could bring a friend. Would you like to come?”
“I’d love to!” Natalie squealed. Then she remembered Jared. “Wait—I can’t go. I promised Jared I’d paint his go-cart for the race on Monday. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so I can’t do it then.”
“We can wait a couple hours for you if you want to paint it now.”
“Jared has it with him. He’s practicing for the race and won’t be back until after lunch,” Natalie said sadly.
“Well, it will go just as fast without paint as with paint,” Nicole rationalized. “Your painting it isn’t going to help him win the race.”
Natalie thought, That makes sense. It won’t matter if there aren’t any flames on the sides of his go-cart. Besides, does he expect me to wait around all day for him? “OK, I’ll go!” she told Nicole. “Mom’s gone to the store, so I’ll tell Dad and we can go right away!”
At the amusement park, smells of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air, and colorful clowns carried giant bouquets of bright red balloons. The girls went on every ride, but for some reason, Natalie wasn’t having much fun. Even when she rode the carousel, her favorite ride, she didn’t enjoy herself. As she sat on a beautiful white horse with sparkling jewels in its trappings, all she could think about was how disappointed Jared was going to be when he found out that she had broken her promise.
That evening, Natalie dreaded going home. She opened the door as quietly as she could, hoping that nobody would hear her come in. But Mom was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Natalie answered halfheartedly. “Where’s Jared? I really need to talk to him.”
“He and Dad are out practicing for the race. They’ll be home late,” Mom said with an “I’m disappointed in you but I’m not going to say anything” tone of voice. “You’ll have to wait until morning.”
Sunday morning, Natalie didn’t say a word at breakfast, and she was barely able to choke down her waffles. Jared didn’t mention the go-cart, but Natalie could tell by the look in his eyes that he was hurt. She was glad when it was finally time to go to church.
After a prayer, her Primary teacher, Sister Parker, began to explain the lesson. “Today we are going to talk about covenants. A covenant is a promise, or an agreement, between two people.”
Natalie slumped in her seat. How did she know to teach this lesson today? she wondered.
“As long as one of them keeps the agreement,” Sister Parker continued, “the other is also bound to do what he or she has promised.”
Just like the deal I made with Jared. Natalie squirmed in her chair.
“We all make covenants when we are baptized. We promise to take upon us the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ. This means that we are willing to live as He would have us live.”
Jesus would not have wanted me to break my promise to Jared.
“We also promise to always remember Him and keep His commandments. In return, He promises to send His Spirit to always be with us. The sacrament is a time for us to remember what the Savior has done for us, and to renew our baptismal covenants.”
During the sacrament, she tried to really concentrate on what Sister Parker had talked about in Primary. She listened carefully to the sacrament prayers. She thought about Jesus and how He had suffered and died for her. Then she thought about the covenants she had made at baptism to take His name upon her, to always remember Him, and to keep His commandments. “Heavenly Father, I promise to do better,” she prayed silently.
On the way home, she apologized to Jared. “I’m really sorry that I didn’t paint your go-cart. How can I make it up to you?”
“It’s OK, Nat. I can still race. Don’t worry about it.”
But Natalie did worry about it. She wanted to make things right somehow. After praying again about it, she knew what she had to do.
Monday morning, Jared was astonished. When he went to get his go-cart, it had been painted a sleek black, and bright red flames raced along the sides. He ran into the house and up the stairs. “Hey, Nat!” he shouted.
“Shhh!” Mom said with her finger to her lips. “I’m going to let her sleep for a while longer.”
“Did you see it?” Jared asked, barely able to hold still long enough to hear the answer.
“Yes, I did. It looks great! She got up at three o’clock this morning to paint it for you.”
The time for the race finally came. Friends and families crowded along the course, waiting for the go-carts to come racing down the hill. Natalie waved to Jared as he slipped into the red and black go-cart. “Good luck, Jared!”
As he waved back, he had a huge, happy grin on his face. Natalie’s grin was just as huge and happy.

The first publication of this dispensation was the Book of Mormon, the result of a translation of ancient records given to Joseph Smith by Moroni, who had hid them for the coming forth in our day. The first distribution—namely, the Book of Mormon—was when the Prophet Joseph Smith’s brother Samuel went forth to declare that the Lord had spoken again and that the book he had was the evidence of the fulfillment of prophecy. This was prior to the organization of the Church just 142 years ago this past Thursday.

Then in 1902 we broke ground for a new stake and ward building in Thatcher, and I gave two dollars from my nickels and dimes for the building. I remember they dug a great excavation and then there was a long delay before enough more funds could be gathered to construct the building. This was on the way to the post office and the stores where I was often sent to get coal oil for the lamps and for mail and to take the eggs and other things that my abilities made possible. I would always run down into the bottom of this great excavation hole and then up the other side; but when the weeds began to grow big in this enclosed area and I once saw some skunks there, I bypassed the excavation, for I had no interest in skunks as pets or as companions.
When the new stake building—which still stands and is being used for stake and ward purposes—was completed, it had just two large, rectangular areas, one for the meetinghouse on the top floor and one for recreation, the latter being the basement. I remember we had wires strung across the building and cloth curtains between the classes. We could hear something of nearly every class that was going on and even sometimes see, if the lights were just right. I remember some years later when we of the basketball team of the Gila Academy did our practicing here and played our games, and I always took more than my share of the credit for the fact that in this smaller building with some obstructions, we defeated some high school and college teams while we were but a high school team.

A few years ago my father had a serious operation and spent several weeks in the hospital. This was during the winter months. My sons and I had made several trips down to my parents’ home to keep the snow cleared from the driveway and walk, but one day while I was working and my sons were in school, we had a very heavy snowfall. My mother was trying to clear the walks when a young university student came by, laid his books down, gently took the shovel from her, and cleared all the walks and driveway. As my mother thanked him he said, “That’s all right. I am away from home going to school. Maybe someone else’s son will be there to help my mother.”
As my mother told me how this young man had helped her, I remembered the words from my childhood: “God bless you, my son. I pray that some young man will be there to help your mother.”
And he was.

As our children’s awareness began to grow beyond the protective walls of our own home, Christmas became more and more Santa and glitter. As this excitement and anticipation grew, the birth of our Savior seemed farther and farther from our hearts and minds. My husband, Bob, and I tried to bring the true spirit of Christmas back into our celebration in ways that would be meaningful to the entire family. One year we established a pattern of traditions that has served us well and provided meaningful Christmases for many years.
We chose a family home evening lesson for the first week in December that focused on giving service as a way to celebrate the Christmas season. We made a cardboard manger and provided a container full of straw. Each time a family member performed an act of service, we put one piece of straw into the manger. The children eagerly sought meaningful acts of kindness with which to earn a straw for baby Jesus’s manger, and we filled the manger three times over that year.
Bob happened to spot an old-fashioned lantern in a store’s display of Christmas decorations. He bought it, and it provided the inspiration for the culminating event of our religious celebration. After our family party and dinner on Christmas Eve, the children dressed for bed and gathered in the largest bedroom upstairs, away from the nativity scene in the living room. We turned off all the lights in the house and explained to the children that we would be taking a pilgrimage to see the newborn King of kings. We prepared for our journey by singing traditional carols and then proceeded to the living room, singing “Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful.” Bob led the way, holding the lantern with its flickering candlelight to brighten our path.
Upon reaching the little stable, we sat quietly and sang a few more carols. Then we presented the manger to baby Jesus. It was filled with straw representing gifts of love we had given throughout the month. Everyone who wanted to do so expressed his or her love for the Savior. The Spirit of the Lord was in our home and our hearts that evening. The children went calmly and quietly to bed—still eager for the morning to come, but also feeling love and appreciation for the Christ child, whose birth we were celebrating.
Each year, as we get caught up in the frantic preparations for Christmas, we have a sense of peace, knowing that the commercialism will be tempered, at least to a degree, with a few moments of meaningful worship. Even at the height of anticipating Christmas morning, the children look forward to the special time we spend each Christmas Eve with the newborn King.

While serving as a bishop of a young single adult ward, I was often asked what “petting” meant. My faithful ward members had been taught that they shouldn’t be involved in petting, but they were never taught what petting actually means. It was difficult for them to keep instruction they didn’t understand.

For the four years Jacob Spori was principal, he not only taught school, but was a friend of the families of the students. He would visit the homes of the Saints, especially when there was sickness there.
“At the time of the diphtheria epidemic in 1891,” his daughter recalls, “he went fearlessly to administer to the sick and comfort the bereaved.” Two of his daughters caught this dreaded disease, but he administered to them, believing they would be spared by the power of God. And they were.

Have you ever gone to the seashore and built a house out of sand? It’s fun to mold and shape, but sooner or later, the waves creep closer and wash it away.

In 1959, not long after I began my service as president of the Canadian Mission, headquartered in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, I met N. Eldon Tanner, a prominent Canadian who just months later would be called as an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, then to the Quorum of the Twelve, and then as a counselor to four Presidents of the Church.
At the time I met him, President Tanner was president of the vast Trans-Canada Pipelines, Ltd., and president of the Canada Calgary Stake. He was known as “Mr. Integrity” in Canada. During that first meeting, we discussed, among other subjects, the cold Canadian winters, where storms rage, temperatures can linger well below freezing for weeks at a time, and where icy winds lower those temperatures even further. I asked President Tanner why the roads and highways in western Canada basically remained intact during such winters, showing little or no signs of cracking or breaking, while the road surfaces in many areas where winters are less cold and less severe developed cracks and breaks and potholes.
Said he, “The answer is in the depth of the base of the paving materials. In order for them to remain strong and unbroken, it is necessary to go very deep with the foundation layers. When the foundations are not deep enough, the surfaces cannot withstand the extremes of weather.”
Over the years I have thought often of this conversation and of President Tanner’s explanation, for I recognize in his words a profound application for our lives. Stated simply, if we do not have a deep foundation of faith and a solid testimony of truth, we may have difficulty withstanding the harsh storms and icy winds of adversity which inevitably come to each of us.

The Cow Who Wouldn’t Come Down Miss Rosemary said, “‘It’s a known fact cows don’t fly.’” But Gertrude didn’t care. She flew all around, anyway—and Miss Rosemary couldn’t catch her! Great silly fun.Paul Brett Johnson5–8 years

May I share with you an example of Brother Clayton M. Christensen, a member of the Church who is a professor at Harvard University.
When he was 16 years old, Brother Christensen decided that he would not play sports on Sunday. Years later, when he attended Oxford University in England, he played center on the basketball team. That year they had an undefeated season and went to the championship tournament.
They won their games fairly easily in the tournament, making it to the finals. Then Brother Christensen looked at the schedule and saw that the final game was on a Sunday. He went to his coach with his dilemma. His coach told Brother Christensen he expected him to play in the game.
Brother Christensen went to his hotel room. He knelt down. He asked his Heavenly Father if it would be all right, just this once, if he played that game on Sunday. He said that before he had finished praying, he received the answer: “Clayton, what are you even asking me for? You know the answer.”
He went to his coach, telling him how sorry he was that he wouldn’t be playing in the final game. Then he went to his Sunday meetings.
Brother Christensen learned that it is easier to keep the commandments 100 percent of the time than it is 98 percent of the time.

Now this is an appropriate time to think in terms of an expanded power in the priesthood because everyone here knows the watchwords for our day are “lengthen your stride,” “quicken your pace,” and “extend your vision.” When I first became a mission president and during a visit by President Kimball, I expressed my concern that I would not be able to keep up the vigorous pace of the former president. His answer went something like this: “Now here, here, we won’t listen to any more of that kind of talk. You can’t be satisfied with what happened in the past. Everything in the Church has to go forward. Didn’t you know that? Now remember, under your leadership things must improve.”

At the time, the temple was quiet and functioned in ‘phase two’, limiting operations for live ordinances by appointment only. When tighter lockdown restrictions were announced, it was apparent that the temple would soon close. With this in mind, and not knowing when the temple would reopen, a few couples quickly moved up their plans to get married and be sealed the day before the temple closed its doors.