Gospel Story Finder

One night at the very peak of her anxiety, this young mother rose from her bed, went into the other room, and talked to her Father in Heaven. She had remembered an incident in her own childhood. A great and noble woman had prayed in behalf of her afflicted husband and requested that, if the Lord were willing, she be allowed to carry her husband’s infirmities so that his service to the Lord would not be restricted. This sister, almost immediately, became stone deaf and remained so throughout her life, while her husband, miraculously healed, became a spiritual giant, a man of God, and a powerful leader in building the kingdom of God in that area. With the memory of this incident in her heart, this faithful mother supplicated the Father in her son’s behalf, asking if she might take her son’s infirmities upon herself. Of this incident she concluded, “I returned to my bed and went to sleep.”

I’m reminded of a story told by President George Albert Smith. As he conversed with a wealthy friend who was a member of the Church, the friend brought up the subject of tithing. He said that he didn’t pay tithing in the usual way, but instead would put a tenth of his income in the bank each year and use it as he chose to for charitable purposes. “Now, what do you think of that?” he asked.
President Smith responded, “I think you are a very generous man with someone else’s property.” (Improvement Era, June 1947, p. 357.)

The heart is a tender place. It is sensitive to many influences, both positive and negative. It can be hurt by others. It can be deadened by sin. It can be softened by love. Early in our lives, we learn to guard our hearts. It is like we erect a fence around our hearts with a gate in it. No one can enter that gate unless we allow him or her to.

In some cases the fence we erect around our hearts could be likened to a small picket fence with a Welcome sign on the gate. Other hearts have been so hurt or so deadened by sin that they have an eight-foot (2.5-m) chain-link fence topped with razor wire around them. The gate is padlocked and has a large No Trespassing sign on it.

My friend Max was baptized when he was eight years old. His father was not a member of any church, and Max could go to church or not go.

As a teenager, after not attending for several months, Max had the feeling that he needed to go back to church and determined one Sunday morning that he would return. But his resolve weakened as he approached the front door of the church; his stomach tightened.

There, standing at the door, was the new bishop. Max didn’t know him, and he felt sure the bishop didn’t know Max. As Max approached, the bishop’s face lit up, and he put his hand out and said, “Max, it’s so good to see you!”

“As he spoke those words,” Max said, “a warm feeling came over me and I knew I had done the right thing.”

Knowing someone’s name can make a difference.

The Articles of Faith come from a letter written by the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1842 to an editor named John Wentworth. They were first published in the Church’s Times and Seasons newspaper in Nauvoo and have since become part of latter-day scripture.

You have a friend who is ill or injured, and you visit her. She is very discouraged. What can you say to help her understand that Heavenly Father loves her and will bless her?

“We knew quite early that Shawn would be good in basketball,” says Reiner. “I played ball with some men in the ward early mornings at the stake house. I asked Shawn if he would be interested in coming along. He went with me many mornings to the stake center and played with the adults when he was only eleven or twelve.”
Some time in his early teens, Shawn could beat his Dad in one-on-one. “I don’t remember when it happened. When Dad would win, it would make me feel bad, so the next time, he’d let me beat him. I never really knew when I could actually beat him.”

When I was called to be a Primary teacher, I felt unhappy and a hard, swollen lump formed in my throat. A convert of only a few short months, I had looked forward to holding a Church position. But teaching in the Primary? There were countless other Church positions far more attractive to a first year college student. What could have inspired that calling? I accepted with pretended enthusiasm.
As I was awaiting my turn to be set apart, I silently asked my Father in Heaven to somehow help me understand. The words of the blessing gave me the answer—and the Spirit bore witness to them: “You have been called to teach in the Primary so that you may learn the plain and simple truths that you were unable to learn as a child, because you were not a member of the Lord’s Church …”
As the pride and doubt in my heart dissolved, a feeling of love encircled me—love for my Heavenly Father and for the children he had entrusted to my care. I would never again doubt his infinite wisdom and love for me.

Two scenes from Brigham Young’s apostolic years give an insight into his continuing dedication to this goal. Both are from the year 1839.

The first occurred in February. Joseph Smith was imprisoned in Liberty Jail, and Brigham Young was directing the affairs of the Church as President of the Quorum of the Twelve. The problem at hand was to move the Saints from Missouri to Illinois. Few persons were well equipped for the move; many were destitute, and in their haste to leave, the temptation to run for one’s own life was strong. But in Brigham Young’s mind, this was not a course of action for true Saints of God. Surely society would never endure unless men could learn love, compassion, and concern for each other.

Accordingly, a meeting was called and a covenant drawn up, stating in effect that the signers would never leave until they had aided all of the poor to leave with them. Brigham Young and his family, accompanied by the family of Heber C. Kimball (Elder Kimball having remained in Missouri), set out in the cold February climate, with their wagons aimed toward Illinois, in one of the strangest processions in the entire Mormon emigration experience.

After traveling as much as thirty-two kilometers across the frozen Missouri plains, Brigham would stop, establish a temporary shelter for his wife and five children, and then retrace his journey to its point of origin. There he would load up some of the poor and destitute Saints and return to his family. In this way he actually covered three times the distance of most of his fellow travelers. Later, at the ending of their journey—Quincy, Illinois—an impressive meeting was held. The Saints in Quincy learned that fifty families were still in Far West and were too poor to leave. They pulled together once more, offering to sell what little they had left—their hats, coats, and shoes—to raise funds for this movement. Brigham Young comments:

“We broke bread and partook of the Sacrament. At the close of the meeting $50 was collected in money and several teams were subscribed to go and bring out the brethren. Among the subscribers was Widow Warren Smith, whose husband and son had been killed at the massacre at Haun’s Mill. She sent her only team on this charitable mission.”

Through these experiences and many others like them, Brigham Young was buoyed up in his conviction that people can be drawn together in love, that they do have the ability to create a more Christian society founded on love and concern for others.

On the second day of our visit, Sunday, President Otay authorized Brother Yefi to conduct regular church services in his home, except when the family journeys to Puerta Varas to pay tithing to the bishop.
We joined the Yefis, with their relatives, in Sunday School and sacrament service—eighteen members altogether.
Brother Yefi taught a lesson from the book of Moroni. As he read from chapters six and seven about baptisms, fellowshipping and preaching by the power of the Holy Ghost, tears rolled down our checks.
When the lesson was finished, we sang a hymn. Even without a piano or a knowledge of music, the Yefi family sang with a spirit that compensated for any wrong notes. Then Brother Yefi asked the visitors to speak.
When it was my turn to speak, I told them, “I realize that you are eager to learn from anything I might say, but I can assure you that from this visit I have learned more from you than what you can learn from me.”
As I told the Yefi family good-by later that day, I thought about the lessons I had learned from them. I learned about being faithful to the Lord in every circumstance. I learned that although a great distance separated the Yefis from the church meetinghouse, there was no distance between them and the Lord. Many of us who have dozens of neighbors around us do not share the gospel, yet the Yefis have taught, fellowshipped, and baptized their nearest neighbors and relatives.
From the Yefis, I learned about making the temple a priority. Many of us who have relatively easy access to a temple make one excuse after another for not attending. The Yefis have already traveled a great distance to Santiago to be sealed in the temple. And whenever they can make the journey to that city, the temple is their first priority.
I left the beautiful El Callao Valley strengthened in my own testimony of the gospel and in my commitment to obey the Lord. The Yefis’ influence for good has reached beyond the isolation of their mountain home.

Josh W.
As a new deacon, Josh W. of Utah, USA, was asked to teach a lesson about being a disciple of Christ. “I found scriptures about when Peter and others were fishing. They tried one side of the boat and didn’t catch anything,” Josh says. “Then the Savior told them to fish on the other side, and they caught lots of fish (see Luke 5:5–11 and John 21:6–11). So in my lesson, we read that. Then we talked about how it’s like that for us. When we go on our own, we can have trouble. But when we listen to the Lord, He helps us.”
Josh says that learning, teaching, and sharing are important in Young Men. “In Primary we learned a lot and had lots of activities,” he says. “Now we’re learning a lot and sharing. That means doing a lot with what we learn.” For example, after a priesthood lesson, Josh visited a friend who hadn’t been to church for a long time. “His parents work on Sundays, so they don’t come. But I told him he could come with me.”
Josh is learning the purpose of Young Men and Young Women. “It’s to show us how to become more like the Savior,” he says. He knows that the call to “come unto Christ” means moving along a path that started with baptism and confirmation, continues toward the temple, and leads to eternal life.
“I’m ready to move forward,” he says.

For one year, I taught English as a second language at the Universidad de Piura, in Piura, Peru. Piura was the headquarters city for the Peru Piura Mission.
The mission president, Chad Rowley, and his wife, Lisa, lived in my ward. They asked me to give English lessons to the missionaries serving in Piura. I accepted.
Using the Church’s English-language training program, I would meet with different groups of missionaries at the mission office to teach them English. It was a great spiritual experience for me to work with and get to know missionaries from South America and the United States. Weekday afternoons worked best because the city tended to be pretty quiet for missionary work until early evening.
Toward the end of my time in Piura, I was feeling homesick and worn out emotionally and professionally. One Friday afternoon, I was feeling particularly lethargic and depressed. I hoped the classes would be canceled because of missionary work, which took precedence over English lessons. That afternoon, however, that was not the case.
I left my apartment late and trudged to the mission office. As I walked through a park on the way, I prayed. I told Heavenly Father that I couldn’t endure one more minute, much less one more week. I was exhausted mentally and physically, and I needed His help.
I arrived at the mission office and went upstairs to wait for the missionaries. When they arrived for their lesson, I had no idea what to teach them. But to start, I asked one of the elders to say an opening prayer in English.
As the missionary began to pray, he said, “Please bless Sister Johnson.” Then he paused. When he continued, he added, “Please bless her to continue with the same strength as in the beginning.”
That missionary did not know I had prayed on my way to the mission office, and he certainly didn’t know what I had prayed about. But Heavenly Father did, and He answered that prayer by strengthening me.
There I was—a US citizen in Peru who was prayed for by name by a missionary from Bolivia. What a healing balm that afternoon at the mission office was. And what a powerful lesson I learned that day. No matter who or where we are—Heavenly Father hears and answers our spoken and unspoken prayers.

My wife and I were married in the temple. We began to read the Book of Mormon together while we were dating. We now have three children. We feel that the Book of Mormon has changed our lives completely, for, as it is written, “The preaching of the word [has] a great tendency to lead the people to do that which [is] just—yea, it [has] more powerful effect upon the minds of people than the sword, or anything else. …” (Alma 31:5.)

During a priesthood leadership session of our stake conference, the question was asked: “What would you ask the Lord Jesus Christ if he showed himself in this meeting?” I pondered the question. In my mind, and deeper in my heart, I felt my real answer would be to ask him—even beg him—not to come close to me.
I would ask to be excused, for how can I withstand the presence of the Lord, even the Son of the Living God. He who is all might and power. He who created the heavens and the earth. He who holds power over death. He who holds all flesh in his hands. Who am I to be able to withstand the glory of the Son of God?

I was a little annoyed with daddy’s suggestion. For years it had been family tradition to go caroling on Christmas Eve. We had done that ever since there had been enough people in the family for at least two to sing one part, and it was our way of extending greetings to our neighbors. But this Christmas Eve, daddy didn’t really feel like caroling. Instead he suggested a visit to the cemetery.
That year we were living in beautiful Bavaria, a southern state of Germany tucked away in the Alps. Our family had tried to learn the language and enjoy the area’s culture and traditions. We often visited little villages, Bavarian families, and places of interest away from traditional tourist routes. So a suggestion to visit the cemetery was unusual only because it came on Christmas Eve.
Bundled in our heavy coats and warm scarves, we walked up the narrow, winding road to the village churchyard. Although we had often passed chalets connected to living quarters for animals, tonight these homes seemed very much in keeping with the tradition of the season—reminiscent of that first Christmas when travelers shared quarters with the cattle.
When we reached the top of the hill, we could hear soft music coming from the steepled church. We passed the church and went on to the little cemetery tucked behind it. Although there were other families there, all was reverent and quiet. We gazed wonderingly at the scene around us.
On every grave was some Christmas remembrance: beautiful wreaths, burning candles, fresh flowers, miniature evergreens with lighted ornaments, even carvings of the nativity. We learned that these villagers wanted to celebrate Christmas with those of their loved ones who had preceded them in death. Their hearts ached for these family members, and so they had brought Christmas to the cemetery.
With only the noise of crunching snow, we silently left, almost feeling like intruders on a sacred family occasion.

A valiant mother courageously fighting a debilitating illness spent untold hours laboriously completing a large, challenging needlepoint work of art. It was a gift to a couple experiencing trials. For the couple it is a priceless treasure, a constant reminder of the precious fruits of resolute effort in the face of adversity, an enduring message of hope bound in the bonds of pure love and willing sacrifice.

“Should we turn back or move ahead?” This was the question that dominated the thoughts of the pioneer company on the night of 3 December 1879. Church President John Taylor had called this group of pioneers to settle the San Juan Mission, in the southeastern part of what is now the state of Utah. But at this point in the trek, there seemed to be no clear answer on how to proceed.
The pioneers were camped at 40-Mile Spring, located on a high plateau. Silas S. Smith, the president of the company, realized how serious their situation was. Camped in some 80 wagons were nearly 250 men, women, and children. Hundreds of cattle were also part of the caravan. Winter was upon them, and they had too few supplies and other resources to remain at this encampment until spring.
President Smith sat in his tent and deliberated with other leaders. Turning back seemed impossible. Behind them, to the west, heavy snows had buried the road through the Escalante Mountains, as well as any foliage the livestock could eat. Besides, the pioneers took seriously the calling President Taylor had given them to settle the San Juan Mission, which was part of President Brigham Young’s original plan to establish settlements throughout much of the West. Who among them would refuse such a call?
Ahead of the pioneers, to the east, lay more than 300 kilometers of rough terrain with no road and little water. A decision to go forward would force them to travel through Hole-in-the-Rock—a crevice in the west wall of Glen Canyon at a high plateau above the Colorado River. It was a dangerous shortcut, but the only other trail was more than 600 kilometers long. An exploring party’s report had been pessimistic. Going through Hole-in-the-Rock would mean taking wagons and cattle on a trail that dropped 610 meters, one-third of that drop at a 45-degree angle.
Most felt it was impossible. After much discussion, one of the men made the motion to leave the decision to “President Smith and the Lord.” A unanimous vote reflected the faith of those present that the Lord would inspire their leader.
The next morning, President Smith called a meeting to announce the decision to move ahead. “The miracle of this decision went through the company like an electric shock,” wrote Kumen Jones, a member of the group, “and all was good cheer and hustle.” In the meeting, many bore testimony in support of moving ahead. Someone began to sing. Others joined in, and soon the chilly December air rang with “The Spirit of God like a fire is burning!” (Hymns, 1985, number 2).

Elders McKay and Doerflien know the gospel message is worldwide and its membership is also. And Utah and BYU have introduced the elders to investigators from throughout the globe. One contact met while jogging, accepted baptism on the fourth discussion. He now plans to return to his homeland, India, and share the gospel with his people.

A few years ago, I created a video to go along with the Light the World Christmas campaign that received over 2.5 million views. I thought, “Should I put a scripture at the end? Or give people a challenge to be baptized? Is it my duty to dedicate my YouTube channel to missionary work?”
I really wrestled with that last question. I’m able to reach more people right now than the early missionaries and early pioneers could have even dreamed of! So I went to the temple with this question, ready and willing for whatever answer I would get.
And the answer that came was, “Do your ministering, and do your calling.”
I realized that Jesus Christ didn’t need me to baptize every one of my subscribers. He needed me to focus on serving the people around me.

I have been a witness, a personal witness, to this wondrous process. I give you my testimony that it is the Lord who selected Ezra Taft Benson to become a member of the Council of the Twelve almost forty-three years ago. It is the Lord who over these years has tested and disciplined him, schooled and prepared him. At the death of the prophet he was ready, not of his own choice nor of his own design. He was called, set apart, and ordained November tenth last.