Gospel Story Finder

There was a time in our lives when my wife, Ceci, and I did not attend church regularly. But we missed the Church, and finally I decided to fast and pray to know if our Heavenly Father would permit us to return to his fold.
A short time later, the doorbell rang when I was having my personal prayers. It was our branch president, President Pinos. He had come to ask me to be a counselor in the branch presidency. My prayer had been answered, and I knew that my Heavenly Father still loved me as his son. I felt that warm feeling which comes only from God.

I was having a difficult time in school one year. I was shy and didn’t make friends easily. One evening, I decided to go for a walk to find some relief.
I found a secluded corner and spent some time pondering and praying about what I wanted. Feeling as if no one understood me, I desperately longed to have someone in my life who could see me for what I was inside, for what I could be. I wanted someone who knew all my faults yet still loved me. I wanted someone who realized that I was (and still am) trying so hard to be better. I didn’t want to feel so alone all the time.
I don’t know how long I was there, but I poured my heart and soul out to Heavenly Father. I cried until I didn’t think I could cry anymore. Then I stood up and started walking back home. As I was walking, I looked down at my shadow. Instead of the usual one shadow, I had two. It wasn’t a miracle or anything; it was just the effect of multiple streetlamps. But when I saw those two shadows, the thought came into my head: “You are never alone. You’ll never walk alone.” I know now that this thought came from the Holy Ghost and that this experience was a blessing to comfort me. That one simple thought reminded me that things would work out and that Heavenly Father knows me perfectly.
Since that day, there have been many more instances where those exact words have reminded me of what God has already told me. For example, once when I asked a priesthood holder to give me a blessing of comfort after the death of a friend, without knowing about my previous experience, he told me in the blessing, “You are never alone.” The exact same words! It was such a sweet and gentle reminder to trust Him and remember that everything will be all right.
Through prayer and the Holy Ghost, Heavenly Father can always be with me, so I always have someone I can rely on. Because of these wonderful experiences, I know of God’s great love for me.

A friend of mine named Bret went to a local ski resort with some friends to ride the Alpine Slide, a hillside attraction patterned after a toboggan run. There were two parallel tracks on the slide, and one of Bret’s friends wanted to race. They waited until no one was in front of them, then pushed off down the mountain.
Halfway down the slide they came to a sharp curve with a warning sign, “Caution, Slow.” Bret thought this was his chance to pull ahead, so he approached the curve at full speed.
The toboggan jumped the track. Thrown free, Bret slammed into the hillside, then slid a long way over tough, rocky terrain. He wasn’t dressed for protection, and his entire right side was scraped from his ankle to his wrist.
That evening his dad soaked Bret in the bathtub so he could peel the clothing away from the torn skin. Bret fainted from the pain. He spent the next three days in bed taking medication, wondering if the agony would ever end.
“I learned a lesson I’ll never forget,” Bret now says. “I couldn’t believe how bad it hurt and how long it took to get better. The people who put up those warning signs knew what they were doing.”
Bret had started out doing something that seemed safe and fun. And that’s exactly what it should have been. But then he deliberately ignored the warnings, got going too fast, and before he knew it, the situation took control of him.

President Thomas S. Monson lives this principle better than anyone I know. There is ever present in his heart a prayer that God will reveal needs and means for him to assist those around him in any given day or moment of the day. One example from his time as a bishop illustrates the fact that sometimes even a little effort may, with the workings of the Spirit, yield remarkable fruit.
“One to whom [President Monson] reached out was Harold Gallacher. His wife and children were active in the Church, but not Harold. His daughter Sharon had asked Bishop Monson if he would ‘do something’ to bring her father back into activity. As a bishop, he felt prompted one day to call on Harold. It was a hot summer’s day when he knocked on Harold’s screen door. The bishop could see Harold sitting in his chair, smoking a cigarette and reading the newspaper. ‘Who is it?’ Harold asked sullenly, without looking up.
“‘Your bishop,’ Tom replied. ‘I’ve come to get acquainted and to urge your attendance with your family at our meetings.’
“‘No, I’m too busy,’ came the disdainful response. He never looked up. Tom thanked him for listening and departed the doorstep. The family moved without Harold ever attending services.
“Years later … Brother Gallacher phoned the office of Elder Thomas S. Monson and asked to make an appointment to see him.
“… When the two met some time later, they embraced. Harold said, ‘I’ve come to apologize for not getting out of my chair and letting you in the door that summer day long years ago.’ Elder Monson asked him if he [was] active in the Church. With a wry smile, Harold replied: ‘I’m now second counselor in my ward bishopric. Your invitation to come out to church, and my negative response, so haunted me that I determined to do something about it.’”

By November 1941, German forces had penetrated as far as Moscow and Leningrad. That month Alexandria married a Russian soldier who had escaped from captivity. With war at their heels, they fled north to live with Alexandria’s husband’s family. But soon the war reached them, and they and many other families were forced to hide in the nearby forest for four months.
Often Alexandria would not see her husband for days. Along with many other young men, he had joined an underground resistance force that attacked enemy convoys. Alexandria feared for his life but was powerless to do anything about it. Further darkening her condition was the resentment her in-laws felt towards her. Because she was from the Ukraine and spoke a different language, they considered her inferior. “It was all very depressing,” she recalls. “I cried all the time.”
One night Alexandria’s husband came home and gave her the shock of her life: not only did he tell her that he had joined the Nazis, but he also demanded that she leave and never return. Alexandria, frightened by her husband’s threatening, hostile behavior, left. She never saw him again.

A few years ago, I was overwhelmed by my many jobs, public service, Church responsibilities, and the needs of my family. I was concerned that I was not giving any of them the attention that they needed.
On March 12, 2012 Elder David A. Bednar, came to the Dominican Republic, and I dared to ask him, “How can we attend to the affairs of the Lord, our family and all the other commitments?” He said, like a juggler’s strategy to keep all the spinning plates in motion we also must be wise in the distribution of our time so that each obligation provides quality actions.
I felt peace in his profound answer, and I desired to better organize my time, identify how to use it wisely, honor commitments and dedicate quality time to my family.

When I turned 14, I moved to Texas, USA, to join my parents and siblings. I found a local church and began attending regularly. Because of my experiences with God, I wanted to share His name and gospel with everyone who would hear me. At age 15, I enrolled in ministry school to become a minister. For two years, I attended Bible classes before school, after school, and on weekends.
One morning at high school, I heard noise in the boys’ locker room. “You Mormon!” someone yelled. I had never heard that term before, but it sounded like an insult.
Later I found out that the person being yelled at was my good friend Derek.
“I am sorry you got called a Mormon,” I said.
Derek smiled and asked, “You don’t know what a Mormon is, do you?”
He told me it was a nickname for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“So, are you a Christian?” I asked.
When he said yes, I was happy to know that we shared faith in Jesus Christ.
“Who are these Mormons,” I wondered, “and what do they believe?”
I went to the internet to find out. After a few minutes, I decided that my friend was not a Christian after all and that he was going to hell. So, I embarked on a mission to save him.
For the next two years, I read every book I could find about the Church, including the entire Book of Mormon—twice. I also met with Derek and the full-time missionaries to try to help them.
When I turned 17, I graduated from ministry school, was ordained a minister, and became the pastor of a small congregation in Texas. Two months after my ordination, I had another discussion with the missionaries.
One of them asked, “You’ve read the Book of Mormon, and you’ve taken every lesson we can offer, but have you asked God if our message is true? You would recognize an answer from Him, right?”
“Of course,” I proudly responded.
“The way I see it, it’s a win-win situation for you,” the missionary responded. “If you ask God if what your friend believes is true and God says no, then you have accomplished the mission for which you began this journey. But if He says our message is true, then think about how much you could gain.”
I had never thought about it like that. That night I knelt in my room after reading Moroni 10:3–5. My answer from God was simple but powerful. In a still, small voice, He answered me: “You’ve always known.”
Now that I had a testimony of the restored gospel, what about my ministry? I still had 10 months left in my contract as a minister. After much prayer and counseling with God, I decided to complete my service. For the next 10 months, I continued to share traditional Bible truths, but when possible I added the perspective of the restored gospel. People resonated with those truths, and my little flock grew from 20 to nearly 150.
After I had completed my contract, I was offered a permanent position, but I knew it was time to be baptized into the Church. It was time to begin a new chapter in my journey of discipleship.
When I told members of my family, they were not happy—at first. But three months after I joined the Church, I baptized my mother and two of my siblings. After serving a full-time mission in the Oklahoma Oklahoma City Mission, I baptized my younger sister.
If someone asks why I changed my religion, I always answer, “I didn’t change my religion—I am still a devout Christian. Rather, I simply strengthened my relationship with the Savior by becoming a baptized member of His Church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know Him more personally and intimately now than before because of the Restoration of the gospel, the Book of Mormon, modern prophets, and the sacred ordinances of salvation and exaltation available in the temple.”
Today I have the privilege of working as a full-time seminary teacher. I am still dedicating my life to Jesus Christ and His gospel. And I am still telling anyone who will listen about the “good tidings of great joy” (Luke 2:10).

After Joseph brought the gold plates home, treasure seekers tried for weeks to steal them. To keep the record safe, he had to move it from place to place, hiding the plates under the hearth, beneath the floor of his father’s shop, and in piles of grain. He could never let his guard down.
Curious neighbors stopped by the house and begged him to show them the record. Joseph always refused, even when someone offered to pay him. He was determined to care for the plates, trusting in the Lord’s promise that if he did everything he could, they would be protected.1
These disruptions often kept him from examining the plates and learning more about the Urim and Thummim. He knew the interpreters were supposed to help him translate the plates, but he had never used seer stones to read an ancient language. He was anxious to begin the work, but it was not obvious to him how to do it.2

Like many young men my age, I looked forward to the spring in anticipation of the yearly high school prom. It wasn’t long before I accepted an invitation to attend with a group of friends, including my two best friends, who were fellow priesthood quorum members.

The days leading up to the prom were full of anxiousness and planning. Where would we have dinner? What color tuxedo should I wear? So many decisions to be made! In anticipation of the events, our Young Men president reminded us who we represent as priesthood holders and how we should conduct ourselves. He reminded us that the scripture “stand ye in holy places” (D&C 87:8) should be firmly in our minds as we went to the dance.

The night of the prom came. As I was preparing to leave and join my friends for pictures, a knock came at my door. Somewhat to my surprise, my Young Men president was standing on the porch. He told me he was there to see me off and wish me an enjoyable time. Before he left, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden dollar coin. As he handed it to me he said, “Chase, I want you to take this. Keep it in your pocket as a reminder of who you are and whom you represent as a faithful priesthood holder. Much like this gold coin, your priesthood is precious and valuable. Hold it dear to you and honor it regardless of where you are.”

I left shortly after to join my friends for dinner and pictures. And then, the prom! We all had a great time. Later that night, I became separated from my group and was surrounded by a group of people I didn’t know very well. Within a few minutes, I found myself in a difficult situation that would have compromised my standards. Feeling anxious and nervous, I shoved my hands into my pockets. My fingers felt the golden coin; I’d almost forgotten about it! I was instantly reminded that I bear His holy priesthood. I thought, “I am a faithful priesthood holder. I can honor my priesthood regardless of where I am.” I immediately walked away from the compromising situation and reunited with my friends.

Afterward, I was so thankful for faithful leaders who stayed in tune with our needs. I felt like I better understood the importance of honoring the priesthood that I bear. A night at the dance and a single golden coin reminded me that I can have the strength to stand in holy places, even when it’s hard.

When I was a young missionary assigned to the British Mission, my first area of labor was in what was then the Bristol District. One of the local Church leaders emphasized that missionaries serving in that area needed to be “shipshape and Bristol fashion.”

Initially I didn’t understand the point he was making. I soon learned the history and meaning of the nautical phrase “shipshape and Bristol fashion.” At one time Bristol was the second busiest port in the United Kingdom. It had a very high tidal range of 43 feet (13 m), the second highest in the world. At low tide when the water receded, the old ships would hit bottom and fall on their sides, and if the ships were not well built, they would be damaged. In addition, everything that was not carefully stowed away or tied down would be thrown in a chaotic fashion and ruined or spoiled.5 After I understood what that phrase meant, it was clear that this leader was telling us that, as missionaries, we must be righteous, follow rules, and be prepared for difficult situations.

A second significant event occurred a few years later when I was called to serve a mission to Peru. My grandfather, who was not religious but was the man I respected most, did not want me to go. Mine was a Chinese family, and my grandfather was its patriarch. In effect, the family was our religion, and obeying and honoring our elders was our moral code. For weeks my grandfather did not talk to me because of my intention to go on a mission. One week before I left, he offered me a present. He gave me the razor I used during my mission—a razor I still keep to this day. He was a loving man. In order to help him feel better about my mission, I told him I would do what I could to find his relatives living in Peru.
In the first three months of my mission, I met Guillermo “Willy” Hauyon, my grandfather’s nephew. I told Guillermo I had heard there was a Chinese poem in the family from which each generation took a word and incorporated it in their given names. To my surprise, he produced the poem and copied it for me. When I returned to Uruguay after my mission, I had my grandfather transcribe the poem in his own handwriting. Today it is a precious reminder of my grandfather and my heritage. The poem contains 48 Chinese characters and is used to mark generations; it has since proven invaluable in helping determine family relations.

The case of a young man, the father of four children, whom we called upon to speak in a stake conference in eastern Utah, emphasizes the desirability of family traditions, special occasions, and warm family relationships.
On each anniversary of their marriage, this couple planned something special to do. Now they had looked forward as a family to observing their tenth anniversary. The father arranged his vacation to cover that period of time. But suddenly it became necessary for his wife to enter the hospital for surgery. He and the children felt sorry for her because she was in the hospital. At the same time she was sad, thinking that her husband and the children would be disappointed. But when she read the little note that came with a bouquet of flowers, she felt better, for it read: “Sweetheart, ten years with you have seemed like ten days, but ten days without you have seemed like ten years.” Signed, “Bill.”

Two weeks ago I shared with the freshmen during their orientation one of the most sacred moments I have experienced on this campus. I wish to share it again because it illustrates the blessing and power of this university as a temple of learning. Almost two years ago the Palmyra Temple was dedicated. Prior to the dedication First Presidency instructions were for students to gather in local Provo chapels to view the services. After some investigation it was determined that few students would be able to attend because local Saints would fill the chapels. Consequently I asked President Hinckley if the services could be shown in the Marriott Center. Although there was some concern that it would be difficult to feel the spirit of the services in this large space, permission was granted.

Students with recommends were asked to be in their seats at least 30 minutes before the services began. The outside doors of the building were locked 20 minutes before. I arrived early and took a seat on the floor. As I entered this space through one of the tunnels, I immediately noticed the extreme quiet in the room. There were no sounds. There was no whispering. Almost every student had a set of scriptures, and each was quietly reading or pondering the events of the next two hours. A quiet, reverent attitude prevailed throughout the dedication. Following the dedicatory prayer, 20,000 students stood in this arena and with white handkerchiefs waving repeated the Hosanna Shout. It was electric! The sea of handkerchiefs was like fields of grain waving in the wind. I have attended a number of temple dedications, but not one like that.

Following the closing hymn and prayer, the Holy Spirit pervaded every corner of this room. We watched President Hinckley and others depart the celestial room of the Palmyra Temple. I then approached the microphone and excused those in attendance to return to their classes. The few of us on the floor stood and waited for the audience to leave. But no one moved. After another minute or two I returned to the microphone again and invited those in attendance to return to class. Slowly, quietly, people arose and left the building. It was one of the great, spiritual moments of my time at the university. This building literally became an extension of the Palmyra Temple during those two hours.

When I was a young mother with four children, my husband was serving as a bishop. It felt wonderful to be part of my idea of an ideal Latter-day Saint family. But my husband died of cancer, and I was left to raise my children alone. I had to return to school, finish a degree, and work. I had to reframe what I perceived an ideal Latter-day Saint family to be. I later married a man with six children, and we became a blended family with ten children. Once again I had to reframe what I thought an ideal LDS family was.

Learning how to grieve and then go on with your life can build strength. When you can acknowledge and work through painful feelings, you develop emotional, spiritual, and psychological skills that can help you in other areas of your life. Your capacity for empathy can grow through a personal acquaintance with grief.

A young mother found herself struggling with depression. She worked with doctors to get her medication just right, but the process took time. One day was especially difficult, and she made an urgent appointment with her doctor. They decided together she should be admitted to the hospital.
Ward members came together to make visits, care for her children, and provide help with meals. During the weeks and months afterward, the woman’s depression made reaching out for help difficult, so ward members learned to take the initiative in offering support.
Later, the sister related that help came at inspired moments, just when it was most needed. She mentioned that one of the most valuable things that came from that time was knowing that her sisters and brothers cared about her and were there to support her. She felt the love of the Savior through the service of her ward members. She learned for herself that He was aware of her and her struggles and that with His help she could endure her challenges with faith.

A week later, two missionaries knocked on the Cantos’s door. That evening they gave Nancy, Pedro, and their two older sons, Cesar and Fernando, the first discussion.

Before they left, the elders gave the family a Book of Mormon, after first marking for them the passages they had been discussing about Christ’s visit to America. They also felt inspired to underline the passages relating to Lehi’s dream about the tree of life—something they had never done before.

Later, as Nancy Cantos read the account of Lehi’s dream, she became excited. It was so similar to her own! She knew in her heart that this was the answer to their prayers.

Eagerly she read the passages to her husband and told him about her dream. He, too, believed this was their answer. “If we obey God’s commandments and hold to the iron rod, our baby will be healed,” he told his wife.

The Cantos could hardly wait for the next discussion.

My wife, Kathy, and I have known a single sister, now in her mid-40s, who is gifted in her professional abilities and serves valiantly in her ward. She too has kept the laws of God. She wrote:

“I dreamed of the day I would be blessed with a husband and children. I am still waiting. At times, my situation brings feelings of being forgotten and alone, but I try to keep the focus off what I don’t have and instead on what I do have and how I can help others.

“Service to my extended family, in my ward, and in the temple has helped me. I am not forgotten or alone because I am part of, and we are all part of, a larger family.”

A few years ago I was sitting in a café in Istanbul overlooking the great Hagia Sophia, now a museum and before that a mosque and before that a Christian church dating back to the year 537.

I was explaining to a Muslim friend that Mormons are “restoration Christians.” He is a law professor and is translating one of my books into Turkish. After listening to my explanation, he looked at me and said, “I like that. I think I’m a restoration Muslim; I’m just waiting for the restoration.”

It’s hard to go through life feeling like I’m a disappointment to God. So along with feeling like I could never be good enough, I also had a distorted idea of God, which hindered my ability to feel His love.

I remember a time in Primary when my teacher was teaching about keeping the commandments, and how all of our actions were watched by God and angels, and were recorded in the book of life. At the end of our lives, when we were judged, all of our good and bad deeds were calculated. I was told if we had more bad marks than good, we’d receive a lesser kingdom.

So I got the idea that God was always scrutinizing my every move and just waiting for me to do the next thing wrong so he could mark it down. Somehow, I missed the concept that He is a loving Father in Heaven who wants the best for me.

Even though I sang “I feel my Savior’s love” and “yes, I know Heavenly Father loves me,” I didn’t truly understand what those words meant.

President Kimball was a great and active missionary himself. Brother Udall tells this story of President Kimball’s mission in the Central States.
“While tracting in St. Louis one day he saw through the partly opened door a new piano and said to the woman who was in the act of closing the door in his face, ‘I see that you have a new piano.’
“‘Yes, we’ve just bought it,’ she replied with pride.
“‘It is a “Kimball” isn’t it? That is my name also,’ he said, as the door opened wider. ‘Would you like me to sing and play for you?’
“‘Surely, come in,’ she answered.
“Walking to the piano he played and sang ‘O, My Father.’ This pleasant introduction led to many subsequent gospel conversations.” (“The Apostle from Arizona,” Improvement Era, October 1943, p. 591.)