Gospel Story Finder

When I turned 18, a lot of members in my ward and stake began telling me I should go on a mission. Even though I had always planned to serve a mission, I didn’t like all the pressure.
Soon I began my first year of college. As a result of hard work, I won a scholarship that allowed me to study in Germany. Germany was very different from my native country, Mexico, but I became immersed in the culture and learned the language quickly.
Eventually I was offered a permanent job at a prestigious European company. Serving a mission suddenly felt more like a duty than a desire. I thought that I could take this job and enjoy worldly success.
One snowy day I traveled to the city of Heidelberg with my friend Melanie. After several hours, the highway was covered with snow, and we became sleepy. We were driving around 65 miles (105 km) per hour when we passed through a red light and hit a bus.
When I woke up, I saw the police, the ambulance, and Melanie, who was crying. The car was destroyed, and I was still in it. Tears came to my eyes when I realized how blessed we were to be alive. I began praying and thanking my Heavenly Father for letting us survive, but a new fear came to me—I was not able to move my legs.
On our way to the hospital, I heard the nurses saying that if I had a spinal injury, I probably wouldn’t be able to walk again. I prayed with all my heart to my Heavenly Father. First I thanked Him again for letting me survive, realizing that my life was not my own. Then I promised Him, “If my legs are OK and I can walk, I will serve a mission with all my heart and mind.”
After four hours at the hospital, my diagnosis was promising: I would walk again. I no longer had any hesitation about serving a mission. Instead I felt a strong desire to share my testimony that God lives, that He is our Father in Heaven, and that He can perform miracles in our lives.
After that experience I decided not to take the job I’d been offered. I knew that my time and everything I have belong to the Lord. Why shouldn’t I give Him a little of that time and serve Him for two years?
After graduating, I was called to serve in Frankfurt, Germany. During my mission I testified of my Heavenly Father. I know that He lives, that He is my Father, and that He protects me. He has given me my life, and it will always belong to Him.

In 1832, Weltha Bradford Hatch—an ancestor of my wife, Shelley—and her husband, Ira, lived in the tiny town of Farmersville, New York, USA, near Lake Seneca. When missionaries Oliver Cowdery and Parley P. Pratt called at the Hatch home, Weltha purchased a Book of Mormon and read it right away. Convinced of its truthfulness, she asked for baptism.
Her husband, however, cautioned her to wait due to mounting persecutions and an approaching baby. Shortly after the delivery, Weltha was baptized—but only after a hole was cut in the ice on the river in which the ordinance was performed!1
Ira was intrigued by the gospel message. He wanted to know more and also felt impressed to make a contribution to the building of the Kirtland Temple. So he and Weltha traveled by buggy to Kirtland, Ohio, USA, to meet the Prophet Joseph Smith. Upon arriving, they were told the Prophet could be found with a group of men cutting trees in a nearby grove.
After they reached the grove, one of the men set his axe into a tree, strode over to them, and said, “Brother Hatch, I have been expecting you for three days; the money which you have brought will be used to help build the pulpit in the temple.”
This man was Joseph Smith. Needless to say, Ira was baptized, and he and Weltha returned to their home, gathered their belongings, and joined the Saints in Kirtland.2

When Josiah heard about the tornado, he was scared. He kept thinking about pictures he’d seen—pictures of the tornado and pictures of all the damage it caused. In one picture, Josiah saw a little girl in pink rubber boots. She looked about his age and was standing on a heap of rubble that used to be her home. What would happen to her? To all the people who lost their homes?
“You look so sleepy,” Mom said the next morning. “Are you feeling OK?”
Josiah shrugged.
Mom felt his face. “No fever. Should we see how you feel at breakfast? Dad’s making pancakes.”
In the kitchen, Dad stood next to the stove, flipping pancakes. He kept glancing at his phone.
“Lots of damage from the tornado,” he said. “Thousands still don’t have power.”
“I hope they get it back soon,” Mom said. She and Dad kept talking about the tornado. Josiah sat down at the table. He put his head in his hands.
“You OK, bud?” Dad asked.
Josiah looked up. “I’m scared,” he said. “Are we gonna have a tornado? I don’t want our house to blow away.” He started to cry.
Mom sat down and put her arm around Josiah.
“We don’t know if something scary will happen to us, but we can trust Heavenly Father to help us no matter what happens.”
“But what about all those people in the tornado?” Josiah said. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father help them?”
“Heavenly Father is helping them,” Dad said. He put a big stack of pancakes on the table. “He won’t stop all bad things from happening, but Heavenly Father always helps His children.”
“How?” Josiah said.
“Well, sometimes He sends little miracles, or helps people feel comfort, or inspires other people to help out.”
Mom nodded. “A lot of times, Heavenly Father helps other people through us.”
“Remember when the Johnsons had a fire and we invited them to stay with us? You shared your room,” Dad said.
“And you played with the baby so we could help them rebuild their house,” Mom added. “That was a big help. Now the Johnsons are back in their home.”
Josiah smiled. He liked helping the Johnsons. Was that Heavenly Father helping through him?
“And then there was that spaghetti dinner to raise money for the people in the earthquake,” Dad said.
“I helped sweep the floor,” said Josiah.
“Yes, you did,” Dad said.
“What about the people near the tornado?” asked Josiah. “Can we help them?”
“I think Heavenly Father is inspiring you to help. What do you think we could do?” asked Mom.
“Would my birthday money help?” asked Josiah. “I still have it.”
“Yes, it would,” said Mom. “Dad and I have some money we can send too.”
Josiah looked at the pancakes. They looked yummy. “Can I say the prayer?”
“You sure can,” Dad said.
Josiah bowed his head. He thanked Heavenly Father for their food and for always helping His children. Then Josiah prayed for the people hurt by the tornado. He asked to know more ways he and his family could help.
Afterward, Josiah took a big bite of pancakes. There were lots of ways to help! And Josiah felt much better.

When a sister in our ward started coming to church again after six years, my mother told my brothers and sisters and me that we should be friends with the sister’s two children. Their dad had died just a year before, and they were still very sad. One of the children, a girl named Evelyn, was a little younger than I am.
When we arrived at church on Sunday, Mama called me to a secluded corner and whispered in my ear, “Monahra, will you be Evelyn’s friend? Heavenly Father has asked you to be a member missionary. Be loving and friendly, and be sure she is not left alone.”
I told Mama I would, and since that day I have tried to be a member missionary for Evelyn. Since I want to be a missionary when I grow up, I am trying my best to be a missionary now.
Evelyn is a great friend, and she smiles a lot now. We play, go to Primary, and sing hymns together. Sometimes, we have family home evening together at her house.
I know that Heavenly Father is happy because I have tried to be a member missionary and a friend. I am grateful to have Evelyn as a friend.

An elder told of traveling from Vietnam and arriving at a Seattle, Washington, refugee camp. While he was trying to learn English so he could enter the United States, someone gave him a small card with a picture and address on it. He kept it for some reason, and when he was later asked where he wanted to live, he showed this card to the customs official. “I can’t send you there,” he was told “but I can send you to a place nearby.” He was sent to an LDS family in Salt Lake City. He learned about the Church. As he finished telling me this story, he reached into his wallet and showed the card. It was a picture of the MTC. “I am here, President,” he said. Like the others, he thought it was a privilege to go on a mission.

But sometimes the pressure of always being the example—of always being the “good” guy, especially when there are those around you trying to make you slip up, can become overwhelming. That’s what happened to Ryan when he was traveling with his marching band. “Sometimes I get made fun of a lot because I don’t swear or tell dirty jokes. I’ve actually had people say they were going to get me to crack before the end of the band season.”

At one point about two years ago during an extended band competition, the harassment got so bad that Ryan reached a breaking point. “I was crying on the bus. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I wanted to go home.” When the bus arrived back at the school where the band was staying, Ryan told a friend he was going for a walk and left to find a quiet place to pray.

“I found this spot behind the school, and when I knelt down and started to pray, I broke down. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to get through this. I must have prayed for a good 30 minutes where I was literally pouring out my soul. It was really the first night where I felt as if Heavenly Father was near to me. When I felt that, I’ve never felt so much at peace in my life, and I knew right then that I would get through this.

“Before I prayed I was like, ‘I can’t take it,’ and afterward it was one of the most calm and peaceful feelings I’ve ever felt. Then there were tears of joy and tears of happiness. What I felt was truly the gift of the Holy Ghost helping me get through what I was going through.”

Ryan says that as he felt the loving presence of his Father in Heaven, everything changed. Ryan had felt alone and insignificant; now he felt loved and empowered. “I’m a son of God,” Ryan said to himself. “I’m a priesthood holder—a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. That night I really felt like I was someone important to my Heavenly Father.”

The competition circuit continued for another week, and those who had been badgering Ryan stopped. He’d weathered the storm, his testimony now strengthened, his reputation intact. Plus he’d had a few opportunities to share the gospel with others.

Years ago our 17-year-old son wanted to go on a weekend trip with his friends, who were all good boys. He asked for permission to go. I wanted to say yes, but for some reason I felt uncomfortable about the trip. I shared my feelings with my wife, who was very supportive. “We need to listen to that warning voice,” she said.

Of course, our son was disappointed and asked why we didn’t want him to go. I answered honestly that I didn’t know why. “I just don’t feel good about it,” I explained, “and I love you too much to ignore these feelings inside.” I was quite surprised when he said, “That’s OK, Dad. I understand.”

Young people understand more than we realize because they too have the gift of the Holy Ghost. They are trying to recognize the Spirit when He speaks, and they are watching our example. From us they learn to pay attention to their promptings—that if they “don’t feel good about something,” it’s best not to pursue it.

Illustration by Dan Burr
Having been raised in a competitive and non-religious Asian country, I have always had a great desire to become a successful person, but I didn’t have any eternal principles or truths to guide me. In my country, “successful” meant being rich and powerful.
My parents always taught me that there was no such thing as God. For them, religion or God was a bunch of nonsense and only for weak people. For a long time I considered myself atheist. They taught me that I shouldn’t trust anyone but myself. So from a young age I have used my high ambitions as motivation to study and work extremely hard.
My parents had high expectations for me. They wanted me to keep my grades high at all times. It made me sad to see their disappointed faces or to hear them argue with each other when I got a bad grade. Along with my regular schoolwork, I would also have to do extra homework on the weekend so I could keep an A average.
Even after accomplishing goals I had set, I still felt that there was something more in store for my life. Deep in my heart, I knew that surely there had to be more to it.
One day I decided I was going to find out for myself if there really was a God. If He did exist, I wanted to know what He wanted for me or if religion was just a bunch of nonsense created by the imagination of human beings. I was not afraid to receive either one of these two answers. I just wanted the truth.
Around that same time, I became close friends with one of my basketball teammates named Taylor. One morning I asked him for a ride to school. He said yes, but I would have to get up an hour earlier to go to seminary with him. I reluctantly said yes, not knowing what it was. I enjoyed seminary, though more because of what I felt than what I learned.
Soon after that, Taylor asked me to go to church with him. At first I thought church was a little boring and weird, but eventually I was moved by the warm and peaceful feeling that I felt at the service.
However, I still wasn’t persuaded that the good feeling had anything to do with God. How did I know that it didn’t come from myself? How did I know that I didn’t make myself feel that way?
After many internal debates, I went to Taylor’s mom in search of answers. She told me that I could receive my answers by reading the scriptures and praying about the answers that I was looking for. I prayed without receiving any answers and struggled to obey the rules and commandments that I was learning about. I became frustrated many times. I expected a marvelous and dramatic appearance of God or some sort of miraculous event to prove that God was real. Basically, I wanted an unshakable testimony all at once. The truth is, the more I prayed, the more clarity I felt in my life. The more I followed the commandments, the happier I became. The more I read the scriptures, the more revelation I received. Gradually, my testimony increased, like the rising sun in the morning.
It took me two years to decide to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Though I lived many good moral standards and principles before, I can now say that I have found the eternal and ultimate truth: God lives. Jesus is the Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. The heavens are open. A prophet of God walks the earth today. The Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. God really does forgive all repentant sinners. I may not be as smart or as gifted as other people, but the knowledge I have is priceless.

Sue Ann wants to share the gospel with as many people as she can. Recently a friend of hers, Elouise Meyers, finished the missionary discussions and was baptized. Sue Ann explained, “I had an appointment with my bishop and decided to take a buddy with me. I took Elouise. I knew she didn’t know much about the Church. While we were waiting for the bishop, the missionaries walked by. I asked them if they were teaching anyone that night. They answered, ‘No.’ ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you teach my friend?’ They set up an appointment.”

In September 1975, just after the United Nations declaration of a decade for women, a reporter was interviewing me about Latter-day Saint women. “Can you hold the priesthood?” she asked. “Do you feel Mormon women need to be liberated?” I was confused, awkward, and unsure of my answers. After she left I thought about the questions she asked and decided to find answers for myself.
Today I wish I could speak with that reporter again. I would like to tell her that I know the gospel is true and that joy comes from following a plan where women and men have unique responsibilities. Married or single, rich or poor, in the marketplace or at home, a woman finds joy by following the Lord’s commandments and bringing refinement and beauty into the world. Knowing this is true, why should we heedlessly try to follow the teachings of men?

While visiting a sacrament meeting on Okinawa, I was so impressed with the manner in which the Aaronic Priesthood prepared and passed the sacrament that, when my turn came to speak, I invited two of the deacons to join me at the pulpit. Of one I asked, “What are your goals in life?” His prompt reply: “To become like my Savior!” Of the other I asked, “What does it mean to you to know that you hold the Aaronic priesthood?” He drew himself to his full height and looked out over that pulpit, and proudly said, “It is the greatest honor in my life!”

When we graduated from high school, I had to make another decision: should I leave for my mission now, or should I go to a year of college first? It was a huge question for me. I had already been accepted to BYU, and I didn’t know which timing would be better for me. After a lot of prayer, I felt like I should go to school first.
It was hard not going on my mission at the same time all my friends were. No one judged me too harshly, even though people definitely commented on the fact that I was “still here.” But I know that waiting was the right decision for me and that I was inspired to do it.
I saw a lot of blessings in my life because I felt so much more prepared to go on a mission after a year of college. For instance, I wasn’t afraid of the long study schedule in the missionary training center because in college, I was studying all day anyway. It was a great experience having faith in God and in the promptings I got that it was the right thing to do, and then seeing the fruits of it.

Willian M., age 15, shared: “The missionaries were the first to bring me to church. Then what kept me going was everyone’s reception. I thought that coming to this Church would be just to hear something about the gospel and then go back home, but I realized that it wasn’t just that—it was something very welcoming. When Bishop Gil Santos was called as our bishop, he invited young people to work, with the aim of bringing more young people to the Church. He knew that young people are the future of the Church. That’s why I’m here!”

During COVID-19 quarantine, Sunday could become too casual at home on our couches and in our comfy clothes. I wanted to do something to make sure Sunday was special. I decided to make my family our own sacrament tray as one of my spiritual goals for the new Children and Youth program.
First, I took a piece of wood and drilled holes in one half for cups. Then I carved out a tray on the other half for the bread. My abuelita helped me sand it until it was perfectly smooth. Then we attached a handle and sealed the wood.
The first Sunday we went to prepare the sacrament and couldn’t find the cups that fit the holes in the tray. We all looked for hours and hours for them. After a while I decided that with or without the perfect cups we were still going to partake of the sacrament. We weren’t going to let this stand in our way of keeping the Sabbath day holy.
That Sunday when we partook of the sacrament, it was with more stillness, intention, and reverence. I felt pleased with the goal I’d set and achieved. I know and could feel that my Heavenly Father was proud of me for my goal and the choices it involved.

As a youth, I wasn’t planning on serving a mission, but people constantly bugged me about going. They reminded me that the Lord expected me to go. Those telling me to go on a mission meant well, but the pressure made me not want to go.
One day, the local missionaries had an emergency. As a result, a missionary would be left alone for the day. I was asked to stay with him until his new companion arrived. That night, after we had prayed and prepared for bed, my “companion” asked me if I was thinking about serving a mission. I told him no.
He replied, “When you feel like you should do it, then do it.” In other words, if the Holy Ghost prompted me to serve, I should go. I didn’t feel any pressure when he spoke, but I did feel the Spirit. The missionary’s words stayed with me and eventually helped me to find a job and save money for a mission.
On my mission, I developed a special closeness with Heavenly Father. I learned that when the Holy Ghost tells us it’s time to do something, we need to do it.
Leonardo Z., Argentina

A young man once walked the foggy streets in London, England, carrying a brightly burning lamp. An old man approached him, saying, “I will pay you if you can guide me to my hotel.” The young man lifted his lamp and took the older man to the appointed location. When they arrived the young man received not one, but three payments, because two other men who were lost had also followed the light through the fog.
“The light that we shine will be seen by the people around us, often without our knowing it,” says Sister Julie Jacobs, relating one of her favorite stories from the Ster, the Church’s International Magazine in the Netherlands.

The prophet’s call led me to far-off India. One day, Sister Richards and I approached a chapel, which was a tiny house in that Indian village. Five young boys were in front of the house, playing cricket with a hollowed-out stick. I borrowed the stick from one of the boys, and he threw me the ball. The boys all laughed at my attempt to play cricket. After we had played together for a few minutes, I asked them if they could sing for me. Much to my amazement, they began to sing, “I Am a Child of God.” I bore my testimony to those boys about President Hinckley. I knew that they, too, were learning to follow the prophet.

May I share an additional experience I had as a bishop. I noted one Sunday morning that Richard, one of our priests who seldom attended, was again missing from priesthood meeting. I left the quorum in the care of the adviser and visited Richard’s home. His mother said he was working at a local garage servicing automobiles. I drove to the garage in search of Richard and looked everywhere but could not find him. Suddenly, I had the inspiration to gaze down into the old-fashioned grease pit situated at the side of the building. From the darkness I could see two shining eyes. I heard Richard say, “You found me, Bishop! I’ll come up.” As Richard and I visited, I told him how much we missed him and needed him. I elicited a commitment from him to attend his meetings.

His activity improved dramatically. He and his family eventually moved away, but two years later I received an invitation to speak in Richard’s ward before he left on a mission. In his remarks that day, Richard said that the turning point in his life was when his bishop found him hiding in a grease pit and helped him to return to activity.

While traveling alone to visit friends on a holiday weekend, I decided to follow a rural highway instead of taking a long detour to a major interstate highway. It was dusk, and I wanted to arrive at my friends’ home before midnight.
Mine was the only car on the road for long stretches of the highway, and in order to relieve boredom I turned on a radio station. As I sang along to a favorite tune, I received a distinct spiritual prompting to turn off the radio—and listen. At first I ignored the prompting, reasoning that it would be absurd to drive alone in silence on a deserted road. The prompting became more insistent, however. I reluctantly turned off the radio, sat back, and quietly told the Lord that now I was listening.
In short order I received three additional promptings to slow down immediately. These impressions seemed to be much stronger, and they reached a much more receptive and focused mind. I obediently braked three times, slowing the car substantially.
Shortly I encountered a 90-degree unmarked curve. I had no time to react in the darkness and went through the curve, stopping at the edge of a ridge overlooking a deep ditch. Shaken, I got out to inspect the damage and found my car wholly intact but with its front bumper protruding over the precipice. Had I been going any faster, I would certainly have plunged into the ditch and been injured or killed. I offered a prayer of gratitude.
I made the rest of the trip in silence as I reflected on the need to eliminate “radios” from my life. I wondered how many times I had allowed the frivolous things of the world to take priority over spiritual matters. Although I have not given up listening to the radio at home or on the road, I do take time on a regular basis to turn off the music—and listen.

The officers of the 15-year-old class in a ward had determined to increase activity among their age group. One girl on their list had been listening to all the wrong voices, and when she openly sinned, her irate mother had refused to let her daughter come home to live. The girl dropped out of church, school, and decent living. The class consulted with their bishop and then approached the Young Women president with a deal. If she’d take the desperate young woman into her home, they would contribute support money each month by selling cakes and baby sitting. She agreed and a life was changed.