Gospel Story Finder

A few months ago, I was at my neighbor’s house. We were having a lot of fun playing. Later in the day, he asked me if I wanted to watch a movie, and I said yes. As my friend got the movie ready to watch, I saw what it was rated and knew that it was one I should not watch. I offered a silent prayer to Heavenly Father about what I should do. I said to my friend, “I think I need to go home now.” As I walked home, I thought about what I had done. I had obeyed my parents and Heavenly Father. I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer and helped me make a good choice.
Marshall Klein, age 9Trabuco Canyon, California

Families and temples just seem to go together, and Sam loves his family even more than he loves temples. His brothers, Willie and John, who are twins serving missions in Uruguay and England respectively, are role models for him. He is especially close to his sister, Lea, a student at BYU. Five years ago Lea suffered a spinal cord injury in a car accident, and she now uses a wheelchair. Sam often paints with her and plays wheelchair basketball with her when she is home on vacation. “Sam’s very sensitive to the feelings of others,” Lea says. “Since I’ve been in the wheelchair, he’s always there to help.”

When I was 12, the missionaries began to teach my siblings and me. At first my father didn’t participate. He would just sit in a back room behind a curtain and listen. But then he read a Church pamphlet that described how a man and a woman married with the right authority could live together forever. This got his attention because even though his wife had passed away, he could be with her again. Once he learned this, he decided to be baptized. And we were all baptized as a family.

Mar. 3, 1853 Says he, “If your father had stayed here, him and me would have owned all Kirtland now. I own the temple,” says he. It began to get dark. Says he to his wife and daughter, “Mother and Lilly, you did not ask Joseph if he had been to dinner.” Says he, “Where did you eat last?” Says I, “At Brother Nelson’s in Racine, Wisconsin.” Says he, “Three days ago? Why didn’t you tell us when you first came in?” Says I, “I had been without eating so long I forgot that I was hungry.”

He visited the temple, sorrowfully noting its deterioration from lack of care, and looked out over the city, where many homes that had been wrecked by a tornado were being left to decay. The town seemed to him to have declined much since the Saints had left.

Janet lay in a hollow on the sand dune and watched the surfers swimming off the beach below her. There were only a dozen or so swimmers this afternoon. The gusty Australian westerlies whipped the stinging sand around bare legs and into eyes. Most people waited to go swimming until evening when the wind died down. Tonight the beach would be crowded with people trying to cool off from the hot day.
Janet snapped a ti-tree twig from a bush close by and swiped at the small bush flies clustering around her legs. It isn’t fair, she thought. Other people are able to go to New Zealand. I wish we could.
Her father was the branch president, but his family didn’t have enough money to go to the New Zealand Temple with those who were going there next month to be sealed as families.
“When baby Richard was born, we used the money we had saved for the trip to pay the doctor and hospital,” her mother had explained. “So we won’t be able to go with the group this year.”
Janet slammed the screen door and rushed out to the sand dunes, her favorite place to think.
There is just no place we could get the money for the trip, she decided. She knew Grandfather Turner had money, but he wouldn’t help. He had never forgiven Mother for joining the Church and marrying Daddy.
Janet loved her grandfather, even though she seldom saw him. Maybe I should visit him, she thought, as she wiped her eyes. Maybe he is just a lonely person. Thinking about him now, Janet decided she would like to see him.
After school the next day, she walked slowly up the hill toward Grandfather Turner’s house. She was anxious to see him but she was also a little nervous.
A few minutes later, she stood on the wide veranda knocking on the front door of the big house. No one came. But Bluey, Grandfather’s cattle dog, barked furiously. Janet looked around the side of the house and saw the dog tied up in the shade of the peppercorn tree. Perhaps Grandfather was in the back yard.
Janet walked around the side of the house. “What’s up, Bluey?” she asked. “Don’t you remember me? I haven’t seen you for a long time. Where’s Grandfather?”
Just then Janet noticed that the dog was panting by his empty water bowl. “You’re thirsty, Bluey! Grandfather must be ill, for he’d never forget to give you water on a hot day like this.” She ran back to the house.
“Help!” A voice sounded very faint. From far away it came again, “Help!”
Across the yard, through the vegetable garden, and under the jacaranda tree Janet raced. And there, sprawled in the doorway of the chicken house, lay Grandfather.
“I tripped over the jacaranda root,” Grandfather moaned. “I meant to chop it out long ago. I think I broke my hip, and I’ve been lying here since early this morning when I came to feed the chickens. I thought help would never come.”
“Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry,” Janet comforted, “but I’ll go for help.” She ran into the house, found the telephone, and dialed the district hospital. Speaking quickly but carefully, Janet told them to send an ambulance to Mr. Turner’s house on the top of the hill on Murray Road.
A few days later when Grandfather was feeling much better, a small family gathered around his hospital bed. Grandfather held Janet’s hand. “I never was so glad to see anyone as I was to see you, young lady. But how did you happen to come just when I needed you?”
“I was lonesome to see you and thought I’d ask you to be friends with us,” Janet replied.
“For a long time I’ve been sorry that I’ve been so stubborn,” Grandfather admitted. “But I was too proud to say so. What happened the other day showed me that I need my family.
“A church shouldn’t divide a family,” Grandfather continued, “so when I’m all better I’ll visit your church with you.”
“That would be great,” Janet said as she squeezed Grandfather’s hand.
“Our church unites families,” Daddy explained. “We’d like to tell you all about it. We had hoped to go to the New Zealand Temple next month, where we could be sealed to each other as a family, but we aren’t able to do so. Maybe if we wait another year, we’ll have another important member of our family going with us.” Daddy smiled at them. “That will certainly be worth waiting for!”
And Janet felt a warm glow of promise.

Jens and Ane Cathrine Andersen had a deep and abiding testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. Despite angry mobs and community and parish persecution, they joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1861.
By spring of the next year, they heeded the call of Zion, beckoning 5,000 miles (8,000 km) away in the Salt Lake Valley. Gathering to Zion meant leaving behind their good life in Denmark—including friends, extended family, and a beautiful farm that for generations had been passed from father to eldest son. Located in the village of Veddum, near Aalborg, on the fertile Jutland Peninsula in northern Denmark, the farm was large and productive. It employed dozens and brought respect and means to the Andersen family.
Sharing those means with their fellow converts, Jens and Ane Cathrine paid the emigration costs of approximately 60 other Saints making their way to Zion. On April 6, 1862, the Andersens, with their 18-year-old son, Andrew, joined 400 other Danish Saints on the small steamer Albion and sailed for Hamburg, Germany. Arriving at Hamburg two days later, they joined more gathering Saints aboard a larger vessel to begin their transatlantic voyage.
The joy of gathering to Zion, however, soon turned to sorrow. Several children who had embarked on the Albion were carrying the measles virus. As the disease swept through the ranks of the immigrants, 40 children and several adults died and were buried at sea. Among them was 49-year-old Jens Andersen, my great-great-grandfather.
Jens’s dream of reaching and building Zion with his family and fellow Danish Saints ended only 10 days out of Hamburg. One historian wrote, “A deliverer who like Moses never set his own feet on the promised land was Jens Andersen of [Veddum], Aalborg, who had assisted no fewer than sixty of his fellows to emigrate; he met death on the North Sea in 1862 soon after leaving [Germany].”1
Was the Andersen family’s sacrifice—leaving their comfortable farm and losing their loving husband and father—worth it? I’m confident the world would say no. But the world lacks faith, foresight, and the “eternal perspective”2 offered by the restored gospel of Jesus Christ.
Andrew with members of his family
What became of Ane Cathrine and her son, Andrew? Did they despair and return to Denmark following their sad six-week journey to New York City? No. Relying on their testimony of the Savior and the plan of salvation, and trusting in God, they courageously pressed forward by train, steamboat, and wagon train. They reached the Salt Lake Valley on September 3, 1862, and joined in building Zion.
They settled in Ephraim, Utah, where Andrew married and started a family. Later, Andrew moved his family, including his mother, to Lehi, Utah, where he became a successful farmer, banker, and mayor. He served a three-year mission to his home country, more than two decades in bishoprics, and more than three decades on the high council or in the high priests quorum. Three of his sons served missions in Denmark and Norway.

Summer ended, and I found myself flying off to Iceland. The weather was atrocious, the work was hard, and after the first cold, wet month, I was overcome with discouragement.
I tried to save myself by concentrating on work and studying more, but my confidence continued to sink.
One dark day, when the Icelandic police required everyone to stay inside because of Arctic cold and high winds, I sat on the couch in our apartment. Running through my cross-referenced collection of memories, I stumbled across the image of myself clinging to the cliffs at home. I looked at the blizzard outside and realized I was once again in just that position. I’d swum to the cliff and done all that I could, but my own strength could carry me no more.
I remembered the scripture in Matthew that said, “But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, and caught him” (Matt. 14:30–31).
My confidence in myself exhausted, unable to climb farther, I had no choice but to humble myself and reach for the Savior’s hand. My mission president gave me a priesthood blessing that I would find the assurance I sought. I trusted him. Although I saw no angels or pillars of light, and although the storms continued, I discovered that I had received the gift of strength I needed.

The jaded, blank-faced crowd congesting the Las Vegas strip paid little attention to the boy behind the wheel of the shiny Corvette. “Just another kid out cruising in his father’s car,” thought anyone who happened to glance his way.

But that was all right with 18-year-old Jack Farley, because he didn’t care much for the crowd, either. He had other things on his mind. He’d started working at age 14, and four years later he’d become sort of a bubble gum baron, controlling his own vending business. He’d paid for the Corvette himself and he’d driven it from the California coast to the desert resort town for an exciting weekend.

Yet something was bothering him. Something wasn’t quite right. His mind kept reverting back to what those Mormons were teaching him in the Sunday School class he’d started attending—things like service to others and eternal families. He’d be missing that church Sunday. Or maybe he wouldn’t—what was he doing here anyway? If he turned around now, he could easily make it back by morning.

The decision to drive back to his home in Mission Viejo, California, was one of the most important choices Jack ever made. Although he’d fought and won many battles in his life, the choice to go home for church led to what he considers the ultimate victory of his life so far. “I’m real thankful for the Church,” he says, “real thankful. I can’t even dream of where I’d be without it. Outside the Church, it’s like you fall into a river and it carries you wherever it goes. In the Church, you have control.”

“But I didn’t join right off,” Jack said. “I kind of sat back and doubted for a while, but I wish I hadn’t.” His Las Vegas excursion helped him appreciate the truths they were teaching him. “I looked around at the people there and thought ‘Lots of these people have money, but they’re still looking for something to make them happy,’” Jack said. Maybe he really could find what he was looking for in the Church.

The same Spirit that helped Jack choose to head home from Las Vegas is still helping him now. And it will continue to help him as he teaches the Japanese.

I think my young son understood this when he was only three. One morning I stepped to our back door to see the children off to school. Our little three-year-old son followed the children to the edge of the yard and watched them as they cut across the grass of a newly moved-in neighbor. Enraged, the neighbor called out, “Don’t you kids ever cut across my lawn. Don’t you dare step one foot on it again.” He couldn’t see me, but I could surely hear him, and so could every other mother that was out to see her child off to school. As sweetly as three-year-olds can talk, ours turned to this angry neighbor and said, “You can step on our lawn if you want to.” The next day that neighbor came out with a big smile and a darling teddy bear, and he gave it to our little son. There was never again a problem over that lawn.

Like Boyembé, Léonce L’or Tsiba felt prompted to sign up for the self-reliance class when it was announced. Her father had refused to support her after her conversion, and she’d gone without food and shelter for a time before getting help from her bishop. Through the course, Tsiba gained greater temporal and spiritual autonomy. “I learned to put God first in my life,” Tsiba reflected later. “I also committed to pay my tithing, to serve my family, friends, and my community.”
Near the end of the course, one of Tsiba’s friends told her about a job posting and suggested that she apply. Fear and personal doubts made Tsiba hesitant. Nevertheless, with the help of her self-reliance instructor, her bishop, and other class members, Tsiba revised her résumé, practiced interviewing, and slowly gained confidence. When she submitted her application, she learned the job opening had already been closed, but she insisted on leaving her application and résumé anyway. Two weeks later, Tsiba was called in for an interview and then hired for the job. She later said, “That experience taught me that God will provide for us; He knows our need. He only asks us to have faith in Him.”

Ana walked past the fishing nets drying along the shore. She was on her way to Maria’s home to ask her friend for help. When she arrived, Maria was sitting under a tree, embroidering a shawl. Ana sat down next to her. After admiring the embroidery, she asked, “Maria, ¿qu‚ es un brownie? (Maria, what is a brownie?) A friend of mine slipped on the street and broke her leg, and I want to give her something to make her feel better. She told me once that brownies were her favorite food. Mama said that if I found out how, I could make some for her, but I don’t even know what a brownie is.”
“Who is this friend who likes brownies?” Maria asked.
“Her name is Hermana (Sister) Anderson. She’s a missionary from the United States. She and her esposo (husband) came to Peru to teach people about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She taught our family the gospel, and we were baptized last month.”
“Why did you join a foreign church?” Maria asked.
“It’s not a foreign church. People all over the world are members. There are thousands of members here in Peru. Senor Garcia is one.”
“¡Senor Garcia!” Maria’s eyes widened in surprise. “But he lives right here in our town and owns the best boat!” (Maria’s and Ana’s fathers worked on a boat that caught pescados [fish]. Senor Garcia was well liked in their town because he was fair and honest with his workers.)
“We didn’t know that he belonged to the Church till Hermana Anderson took us there one Sunday. He greeted us at the door and helped us feel comfortable. After that he had the missionaries teach us in his home on the hill.”
“Wow! Are there others in our town that belong to your church?”
“Yes. You know, we are so happy now that we’re members that I want to do something special for the missionaries that helped us. How do I find out about brownies?”
“We could ask my mother,” Maria suggested. They went inside to ask her, but she just shook her head. She had never heard of brownies either. “Why don’t you ask Senorita Consuelo?” she suggested. “A teacher knows about many things.”
The girls ran down the path past the nets to Senorita Consuelo’s home. When she came to the door, they asked together, “¿Qu‚ es un brownie?”
She smiled her twinkly smile at them and invited them in. After they were seated, she told them, “I’ve never heard of brownies, but I do have a good English dictionary. Let’s look it up.”
Together they searched the dictionary pages for the meaning of brownie. One definition read: “a small, flat, chocolate cake, often made with nuts.”
“A flat, chocolate cake,” Ana repeated happily. “We have some chocolate at home, but the dictionary doesn’t say what kind of nuts! Would any nuts do?”
Senorita Consuelo thought for a moment. “I think so. But why do you want to make a brownie?”
The girls explained that Hermana Anderson had broken her leg and was in bed.
“It’s sad to be sick so far from home,” Senorita Consuelo said. “I’ll help you make a brownie and take it to her.”
They walked to Ana’s house, and Mama helped them find a recipe for chocolate cake and alter it so that the cake would be flatter than a regular cake. Then they added nuts to the batter. When the cake came out of the oven, it looked very strange. The girls started to giggle when they saw the lumpy, lopsided cake.
“I can’t see why anyone would want to eat a brownie!” Maria said.
“A real brownie probably isn’t like this,” Ana said, laughing harder and harder, till the tears rolled down her cheeks. Senorita Consuelo and Mama started laughing too. When Ana finally stopped laughing, she said, “Maybe we should make arroz con leche (rice pudding) for her, instead. It’s easy to make that.”
“If she’s as nice as you say, she will appreciate your efforts to make her happier,” Senorita Consuelo counseled. “Let’s take her the brownie.”
When Hermano (Brother) Anderson opened the door of their casa (house), he greeted them warmly and immediately invited them in to visit Hermana Anderson. Ana gave the flat cake to her and explained, “It’s supposed to be a brownie. You said that brownies were your favorite food.”
“How thoughtful of you!” Hermana Anderson beamed at the small group. “I haven’t had one since we left Chicago. Hermano Anderson,” she directed, “please bring some plates and forks so that we can eat my brownie!”
She cut the cake and served a portion to everyone. Ana and Maria and Senorita Consuelo held their breath while Hermana Anderson took her first bite.
“That’s the best brownie I’ve ever eaten!” Sister Anderson told them. Ana and her friends took a bite too. It tasted good, even if it did look funny! Soon everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves. It was fun to get to know each other over a Peruvian brownie.

While participating in a youth conference in California, Bradley (Brad) R. Wilcox met a young man who didn’t want to be there. He joined the teenager under a shady tree, and soon they were discussing the youth’s favorite topic—skateboarding.
Brother Wilcox asked the teen to show him some skateboarding moves. Impressed, he invited the youth to do a skateboarding demonstration at Especially for Youth that summer. The young man resisted but eventually agreed. At EFY, he had a life-changing experience and found his testimony of the gospel.
“He got to EFY on a skateboard, but he left as a missionary,” Brother Wilcox said.

Four hundred and fifty kilometers northwest of Udorn, in Chiang Mai, workers are installing a fountain in the manicured grounds of a spacious, modern home. Three children are busily watching. They are Atikun, 13, Punjaree, 8, and Nathanon, 6. Their mother, Datchanee Limsukhon, is the only member of the Church in the family. Her husband, a neurologist, does not object to her Church membership, but sometimes she has to adjust her Church participation to meet her family’s needs.
Sister Limsukhon’s first contact with the Church came when, as a young woman, she heard branch members singing in a rented hall in Bangkok. She liked what she heard and wanted to join “that church” so she could sing with the other members. She believed the missionary discussions, but her family initially refused permission for her to be baptized. “But I knew that I wanted to be baptized, and I was in November 1969.”
In January 1970, she returned to her home in Chiang Mai and earned a nursing degree from the local university. She then went to the Church’s Language Training Mission in Hawaii, where she taught Thai to the missionaries for four months before she was called on a mission herself. On completing her mission in Bangkok, she had the opportunity to go to the United States for additional nursing experience in Utah and Texas. She then went to England to marry her Thai fiance, who was studying there.
When her husband completed his schooling, they returned home to Chiang Mai, where he has been in practice ever since.
“Since I am the only Latter-day Saint in my family, the standards of the Church are most important to me,” says Sister Limsukhon. “I am committed to living them.”

Judy’s appreciation for the New Era came full circle when she was called as ward magazine representative in Coventry. She’s had many opportunities to bear strong testimony of the powerful words lying within her favourite magazine. She’s worked hard encouraging youth to partake and share similar gifts with others.

Her efforts were further supported recently. “We were really blessed when a generous missionary couple stayed in our ward,” Judy continues. “Knowing our enthusiasm for Church writings, they donated enough money to ensure all our members receive copies for the next year.”

While serving as a young missionary in England, President M. Russell Ballard had an experience that changed his life forever.
“I remember walking down the side of the River Trent in Nottingham, England. …
“As I was walking along that river, … I said a prayer in my heart. I desired to feel some guidance from the Lord. I pled that He would be pleased with what I was trying to do. I asked, ‘Am I doing what you want?’”1
“An overwhelming feeling of peace and understanding came over me. It was at that precise moment in time that I came to know that Jesus Christ knew me, [and] that He loved me, … I didn’t see any visions and I didn’t hear any voices, but I could not have known of Christ’s reality and divinity any more intensely had He stood before me and called out my name.
“My life has been shaped by that experience. From that day to the present, every significant decision I have made has been influenced by my knowledge of the Savior.”2

They were on their way to the nearest temple when youth from the Bloomington Ward, Minneapolis Minnesota Stake, pulled into Nauvoo. They were about to check into the historical Nauvoo House when they learned it was right in the line of the summer’s horrible flooding. The youth went to work immediately, joining a sandbagging brigade that strengthened the levy between the inn and the river. Everyone from the smallest Beehives to the largest priests worked side by side.

So much for touring Nauvoo. They almost missed seeing the show at the Nauvoo Visitors’ Center too, because while they were sandbagging, no one picked up the tickets they’d reserved months earlier, and their tickets were given away to others. When the visitors’ center missionaries heard what had happened, they delayed the show while the youth cleaned up, and they brought in extra seating to accommodate those who had helped save the Nauvoo House.

The youth felt it was probably the most memorable excursion they would ever take. They not only had the chance to serve the dead by doing baptisms in the temple, but they were able to serve the living and generations to come by helping save a historical landmark.

In time, Martin returned from Palmyra and took over as scribe, giving Emma a chance to rest before the baby came.25 But rest did not come easy. Martin’s wife, Lucy, had insisted on coming with him to Harmony, and both Harrises had strong personalities.26 Lucy was suspicious of Martin’s desire to support Joseph financially and was angry that he had gone to New York City without her. When he told her he was going to Harmony to help with translation, she had invited herself along, determined to see the plates.
Lucy was losing her hearing, and when she could not understand what people were saying, she sometimes thought they were criticizing her. She also had little sense of privacy. After Joseph refused to show her the plates, she started searching the house, rifling through the family’s chests, cupboards, and trunks. Joseph had little choice but to hide the plates in the woods.27
Lucy soon left the house and lodged with a neighbor. Emma had her chests and cupboards to herself again, but now Lucy was telling the neighbors that Joseph was out to get Martin’s money. After weeks of causing trouble, Lucy went home to Palmyra.
With peace restored, Joseph and Martin translated quickly. Joseph was growing into his divine role as a seer and revelator. Looking into the interpreters or another seer stone, he was able to translate whether the plates were in front of him or wrapped in one of Emma’s linen cloths on the table.28
Throughout April, May, and early June, Emma listened to the rhythm of Joseph dictating the record.29 He spoke slowly but clearly, pausing occasionally to wait for Martin to say “written” after he had caught up to what Joseph had said.30 Emma also took turns as scribe and was amazed how after interruptions and breaks, Joseph always picked up where he left off without any prompting.31

David soon discovered that he was the only member of the Church in his new school. With only a small number of students there, David knew he would get more attention from teachers because of the class size, but he didn’t want any special attention from his peers for being a Latter-day Saint.
“I was quiet about my beliefs at the beginning,” he says. “It was a new environment, and I was afraid I would be shunned and it would be hard to make friends.”
Then around his third year in the school, David remembered his priesthood lessons about letting his light shine.
“One time there was a big assembly at the school, and as I was looking around, it struck me that I was the only priesthood holder there,” he says. “The Lord had given me a responsibility, and I wasn’t doing enough.” He knew he had to make his membership in the Church known.
He decided to tell his friends about his standards and beliefs. He says it was harder to live his standards when he didn’t tell anyone about them, but when he made them known, it was easier to live them, and he even received support from his friends.

Emmeline also embraced this command. She understood that what the Lord said to one, He said to all (see Doctrine and Covenants 25:1, 16; 82:5). Even before her baptism at age 14 in March 1842, Emmeline had shown a love of learning and a talent for writing. Shortly after her baptism she finished her last term of formal education in Massachusetts and began teaching. After emigrating to Nauvoo, she taught in the common school system there. As Emmeline’s faith led her to join the Saints in other locales, including Winter Quarters and Utah Territory, she continued her educational and literary pursuits, in large part through her involvement in the Relief Society.

The other day as I watched the videotape Called to Serve, my eyes moistened in instant tenderness as each new missionary opened and read aloud with his family the official call to a full-time mission, signed by the President of the Church. I recalled my own mission call to Argentina. After sharing the excitement of my call with my parents, I sought out my mentor, who was not a member of the Church, a former U.S. senator, to share the news of my call with him. He was not impressed and let me know in no uncertain terms that if I insisted on serving a mission, upon my return all the good jobs would be taken and I would never amount to anything. I was disappointed but realized that he saw my future only as the world perceives.
Years later I realized that my mission had prioritized my life toward family, service, and gospel principles. As an added bonus, I was far ahead of most of my former classmates in worldly achievements.