Gospel Story Finder

One of the most memorable lessons was learned by those who left the path. They felt disappointed as they had to wait in “spirit prison” and watch their brothers and sisters walk by them on the path.

Jackie Haws, 18, said: “Because I was on the youth committee, one of my jobs was to try to lead others astray. Because of this, I ended up going to ‘spirit prison’ and being separated from the others. I felt such shame in prison. But I’m so grateful for repentance. I need it every day.”

In the book Daughters in My Kingdom, we read about Sister Hedwig Biereichel, a woman in Germany who suffered much sorrow and deprivation during World War II. Because of her love and charitable nature, and even in her own great need, she willingly shared her food with starving prisoners of war. Later, when asked how she was able to “keep a testimony during all [those] trials,” she replied in effect, “I didn’t keep a testimony through those times—the testimony kept me.”

In a day or two we all boarded a little steamer for Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark. As I wasn’t a member of the Mormon church, I didn’t sing and feel as happy as the rest of them, but I could both hear and see they were so happy. I remember well one of the hymns: “Oh Babylon, oh Babylon, we bid thee farewell; we’re going to the mountains to dwell.” Of course it was in Norwegian. We arrived in Copenhagen the next day after staying on the steamer all night. There was no place to lie down, so I crawled up on some sacks of grain and found me a place to sleep. While I was up there and had me a good sleep, my parents and some of the rest of them were nearly frantic. They had searched for me until they had given me up. They knew it was against my will to go, and they did not say so, but from the way they acted when I came down, they must have thought I had jumped overboard. It brought joy to their souls when someone told them they had seen me and that I was all right. They could not believe it until they saw me. If I had never brought joy to their souls, I did on that occasion.

Sister Elesha Angie Joseph McCaurley had reached the end of her pregnancy. Her daughter had already found a name for her little sister, and her husband was anxious to have a baby girl. Everyone took it very hard when the baby was stillborn.
“My husband is not a member and I have not been active for very long,” Sister Joseph said; so, trying to explain to her husband about attending the temple after such a recent loss was an interesting conversation in which her husband showed full support.
Hoping to baptize his baby, she had to explain that it was not necessary, because “all children who die before they arrive at the years of accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom of heaven.”1
However, an opportunity had arisen. “I’d like to be sealed,” Sister Joseph said. “When you get back, we’ll talk about it,” the husband replied. Sister Joseph visited the Santo Domingo Temple for the first time and returned home visibly excited.
Under the influence of the Holy Ghost and with tears of joy, she performed temple ordinances for herself and her two grandmothers, whom she loved deeply. This was not only her experience, but of two other sisters from St. Lucia, whose testimony was influenced by a desire to be an example to their sisters and children.
The Relief Society has always shown great interest in the progress of its members and in allowing the women of the Church to reach their greatest potential. As the Prophet Joseph Smith declared: “I now turn the key to you in the name of God and this Society shall rejoice and knowledge and intelligence shall flow down from this time—this is the beginning of better days to this Society.”2
“Being a single mother is difficult,” shares Sister Caren Wendy Constance Kennedy, a mother of two children, one fifteen years old and one thirty years old. “You have to become a force of nature to them.”
“I love the Lord. He is paramount in my life, and I will take the necessary steps to do the right thing. We all struggle to follow the right path, but it is a choice,” says Sister Constance, convinced that we must be committed to walk the covenant path. After attending the temple, she shared that she is stronger than ever. “As I watched the baptism on behalf of my deceased brother being performed, I felt chills of joy, I was happy,” she said.
The temple was no less impactful in the life of Sister Juliana E. St. Louis, first counselor of the Relief Society in St. Lucia, and a single mother of a twenty-two-year-old son. She never thought that her life would be changed forever when she wondered who those young men carrying boxes of food to people were.
“I fell in love with the Book of Mormon. I’ve read it over and over and over again,” says Sister St. Louis. Worship meetings provided her with another great impression of the Church. “People don’t know you and they embrace you. Now, coming to the temple has changed my life, my attitude. It has given me peace and, I can’t explain the feeling, the calmness one feels,” she says.

What do you do when you’re not quite 16, but you desperately want to attend a dance at your school? Several girls from the Bountiful, Utah, area came up with a solution that worked well—they invited their dads.
Anissa Johnson, Shauna Howard, Cindee Olsen, Jill Stauffer, and Shari Salmon all found unique ways to invite their fathers and planned a dinner together before the dance. In accordance with the dance’s tradition, the fathers and daughters all wore matching shirts.
“It was a little strange when we first got to the dance and there were all our friends,” said Shari. “But the strange feeling only lasted a few minutes, and I didn’t think about it anymore; I was having too much fun!”
Cindee summed up one of the reasons she and her friends had such a great time with their fathers. “I didn’t have to impress him,” she said. “I already knew he liked me.”

When I was a very small boy, my father found a lamb all alone in the desert. The herd of sheep to which its mother belonged had moved on, and somehow the lamb got separated from its mother, and the shepherd must not have known that it was lost. Because it could not survive alone in the desert, my father picked it up and brought it home. To have left the lamb there would have meant certain death, either by falling prey to the coyotes or by starvation because it was so young that it still needed milk. My father gave the lamb to me and I became its shepherd.
For several weeks I warmed cow’s milk in a baby’s bottle and fed the lamb. We became fast friends. I named him Nigh—why I don’t remember. It began to grow. My lamb and I would play on the lawn. Sometimes we would lie together on the grass and I would lay my head on its soft, woolly side and look up at the blue sky and the white billowing clouds. I did not lock my lamb up during the day. It would not run away. It soon learned to eat grass. I could call my lamb from anywhere in the yard by just imitating as best I could the bleating sound of a sheep.
One night there came a terrible storm. I forgot to put my lamb in the barn that night as I should have done. I went to bed. My little friend was frightened in the storm and I could hear it bleating. I knew that I should help my pet, but wanted to stay safe, warm, and dry in my bed. I didn’t get up as I should have done. The next morning I went out to find my lamb dead. A dog had also heard its bleating cry and killed it. My young heart was broken. I had not been a good shepherd or steward of that which my father had entrusted to me. My father said, “Son, couldn’t I trust you to take care of just one lamb?” My father’s remark hurt me more than losing my woolly friend. I resolved that day, as a little boy, that I would try never again to neglect my stewardship as a shepherd if I were ever placed in that position again.

After that it seemed that Brad, Chris, and I were always over at Willard’s place. We worked in his garage, sipped soda drinks sitting on his front step, and talked about sports. We even teased him about his smoking. We told him that every time he smoked a cigarette he was throwing away thirty minutes of his life.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve been at it too long to stop it now.” But after that we noticed that when we came, he would throw his cigarette away.
Then one afternoon as we sat in his garage, he seemed more nervous than usual. He kept rubbing his hands on his pants, scratching the back of his neck, pacing the floor, and shuffling his feet.
“What are you thinking about, Willard?” Brad asked.
Willard shook his head. He tried to smile, but his attempt was more like a grimace. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I threw away my cigarettes. I haven’t had a smoke for a couple of days. But I don’t know if I can keep it up.”
For a moment the three of us were quiet. Then Chris jumped up. “You’ll make it, Willard. You just need something to take your mind off it. Do you chew gum?”
“I could chew nails right now.”
“You need to stay busy too,” I offered. “I have an uncle that quit smoking. He said the only thing that saved him was to stay busy. He worked himself until he was exhausted.”
For the rest of the day we stayed with Willard and helped him forget about smoking. It was almost ten o’clock when we left him, but he’d gotten over the urge to smoke. As far as we knew, he never used another cigarette.

At the end of every session, they invited me to pray. Again I resisted. I had never prayed and felt very awkward at the very thought. Eventually, they wore me down – I agreed. They suggested a simple format, and I knelt and voiced a prayer.
And while I grappled for words, I felt a bright effusion of light in my mind. It was something real and profound. I suddenly felt that there were other ways of knowing beyond the limits of human reason. This spiritual experience unlocked my soul to God and all the associated possibilities.

Growing up, Elder Choi dreamed of becoming a general in the Korean army. So when his bishop asked him to speak about preparing for a mission, Elder Choi said no. Another young man spoke instead, which made Elder Choi feel guilty.
“The Holy Ghost told me I needed to serve a mission,” he says. He prepared for and served two years as a missionary, interrupted halfway through by three years of mandatory military service. To this day, Elder Choi says he and his wife, Koo Bon Kyung, “never deny anything that comes from the Lord.”

Commit yourself to serve your companion. One of the surest ways to develop love for someone else is to serve in very personal ways. Two companions who had had some difficulties in getting along discovered this principle when one of them became ill and had to be in bed for a day. Elder Blake did everything he could to help care for his sick companion. Elder Waite was especially surprised when he woke up and found that during the time that he was running a fever and sleeping, Elder Blake had cleaned and shined his shoes and also made sure that everything was in order in their apartment. “I began to realize,” said Elder Waite, “that I needed to do more to be of service to my companion. Appreciation for each other and a real friendship began to develop from that day on.”

My grandparents started dating before Grandpa joined the Church. Grandma told him she was unavailable on Sundays and several evenings during the week. At first he considered dating somebody else since she was so busy. Eventually she explained, “I’m a member of a church you’ve never heard of.”
Grandpa immediately replied, “Oh do you mean The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?” Grandma was dumbfounded—she thought he had been stalking her! But he had heard of the Church before.
At 19, Grandpa was asked to help with the census because of his penmanship. When he asked a woman for her religion she said, “I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” It was the longest denomination name he had ever heard. The name stuck with him. When Grandma told him that she belonged to a church he most likely didn’t know, he already had the name in his memory.
In his talks, Grandpa shared his thoughts and feelings and the struggles he faced investigating the Church. He had to humble himself to pray about joining the Church. He received an answer and acted on it.
It is amazing to share Grandpa’s firsthand accounts with my wife and children. They’ve never met him, but his words are reaching them 30 years after his death.

Once I was helping my brother clean his room. He got frustrated with me and threw his soccer cleats at me. That made me angry. Later, when we were in our pajamas, I noticed a tan spot on my brother’s shoulder. I looked closer and saw that it was a scorpion! I remembered the soccer cleats and wondered if I should tell him about the scorpion or not. I decided not to, but then I thought, “He is my brother, no matter what.” So I told him and told my mom too. She flicked the scorpion off his shoulder. I’m glad I made the right choice.

Elvis H., 16, did not have ancestors who were LDS pioneers. He chose to walk for Norton Hunter, who was important to the pioneers because he made handcarts that they pulled and pushed across hundreds of miles.

Elvis started out with enthusiasm. After the difficult first day, he was excited to reach camp, but he couldn’t sleep because he was in pain. The next day, he was taken to the hospital, where he was operated on for appendicitis. “In my situation, if we were back in pioneer days, I probably would have been one of those graves on the way.”

As a bishop of a student ward adjacent to the University of Utah campus about 18 years ago, I tried vainly to hold a young marriage together. The wife had been unfaithful, and as I sought to help and to understand, I learned that as a child this woman had had an adulterous father. Though unjustified, she acted out her feelings about men. What she then did was not love. Several years after my release as bishop, I saw a story in the local paper about her having been picked up for prostitution. I know not where she is today, but I cannot put out of my mind the words of Jacob, who decried unfaithful fathers who had lost the confidence of their children because of their bad examples (see Jacob 2:35).

Mike didn’t travel to compete in track or field this year, even though he especially enjoys that area of competition. He says, “The games kept me away from home too much. I miss my track and field, but my family comes first.”

Jan adds, “Mike made the decision. He was the one who decided to stay home and be a husband, father, and gardener.”

Mike and Jan have a beautifully landscaped yard and garden. Jan sewed two pairs of Levis together for Mike to keep the burrs out while he works in the yard. His young sons and Jan work with him.

Jeremy couldn’t see what all the fuss was about, just because his older sister Michelle was probably about to get married. He was, of course, glad in a way, because it meant he could have her room. Also, he had hopes her future husband would be like a brother to him. Jeremy needed that. He felt like he’d been dominated by women and girls his whole life. He was the youngest and the only boy in a family of four girls. Michelle, the next youngest, was five years older than he was and had been his chief baby-sitter as he grew up.
There was a time when they hadn’t gotten along. It began when Jeremy was eight years old and lasted for five years, until Michelle went off to college. During that time, Jeremy resented being ordered around by Michelle. “You’re not my mother,” he used to say.
After Michelle left for college, Jeremy and Michelle didn’t see each other much. But at least when she came home for Christmas her freshman year, she was sort of nice to him. That was a big improvement over what it had been.
Now, after two years at college, Michelle was about to be engaged. When she brought Christopher Kent home to meet the family, Jeremy had never seen her act so strange. When she saw Jeremy, she tousled his hair like they were, … well, brother and sister, which, technically of course, they were.
“Christopher Kent, huh?” Jeremy said. “Are you any relation to Clark? Are you like Superman in disguise? Can you leap buildings?”
“Don’t mind Jeremy,” Michelle said quickly.
“That’s all right,” Christopher said. “People say that to me all the time.”
Jeremy felt bad for Christopher because he could tell Michelle was putting on this big act to make him think she was a nice person. But Jeremy knew better.
“Has she ever grabbed your ear and pinched it when she wants you to do something?” Jeremy asked Christopher.
“Well, no, actually she hasn’t,” Christopher said slowly.
“She used to do that to me all the time. It really hurts.”
“I used to baby-sit Jeremy when he was little,” Michelle said with a pained smile on her face.
“She was really mean to me,” Jeremy added.
For one brief instant the old fire returned. “You deserved it, Jeremy.”
“What did I do?” Jeremy asked, trying his version of an angelic smile.
Jeremy was baiting Michelle to see if she’d lose her cool. He wanted Christopher to see the mean Michelle who had tormented him so much when he was younger.
Fortunately for her, Michelle displayed unusual self-control. “It wasn’t much, really, just little things,” she said with a kindly smile.
“You mean like the time I reset the timer when you were in the backyard trying to get a tan, so you got a real bad sunburn just before the junior prom?”
For Christopher’s benefit, Michelle smiled and said, “Jeremy always liked to play little jokes on me.”
For the rest of the evening, Michelle kept Christopher away from Jeremy. But Jeremy had a plan. He waited until Christopher had gone to the guest bedroom for the night, and then he went to the door and knocked.
Christopher opened the door.
“We need to talk,” Jeremy said.
“All right. Come in.”
“Actually, I was thinking maybe I could talk better if you took me out and bought me something to eat.”
“Really? Well, all right.”
“I’m kind of in the mood for pancakes,” Jeremy said.
It was not until he had finished one stack of pancakes at the all-you-can-eat pancake house that Jeremy began to talk seriously with Christopher. “Are you going to marry my sister?”
“Yes. We’re going to announce it in a couple of weeks, so don’t tell anyone. Okay?”
“That’s what I thought. See, the thing is, I don’t understand why you’d want to marry Michelle.”
“I’m in love with her.”
Jeremy shook his head. “That is so weird. Why would you want to marry Michelle? There’s lots more girls out there.”
“She’s beautiful and talented and …”
Jeremy stopped Christopher. “Hold on. You think she’s beautiful?”
“Yes, don’t you?”
“She used to spread this gunk on her face at night. I think it was made from guacamole. And she used to hang all this stuff to dry in the bathroom. It was like I had to hack my way through a jungle sometimes just to get in there to brush my teeth.”
Christopher laughed. “Really? You know, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be happy we’re having this little conversation.”
“Do you think she’s a nice person?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s not, not really. Oh, sure, she puts on this big act for you, but you should have seen the way she treated me when I was little. She called me a little brat.”
“And you never did anything to earn that title?”
Jeremy smiled, “Well, maybe once or twice.”
“I thought so.”
“You’re a normal guy, aren’t you? I mean, you like football and basketball and pizza, right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Did you play any sports in high school?”
“Soccer.”
“Really? I play soccer.”
“There you go then.”
“Did you go on a mission?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s good. I’d want the guy who marries Michelle to have served a mission.”
“Are you going to serve a mission?”
“I guess so.”
“Good for you. It was the best thing I ever did.”
“Are you going to marry my sister in the temple?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
“Do you know what getting married in the temple means?”
“It means forever.”
“That’s right.”
Jeremy paused for a minute trying to let his mind grasp the concept of eternity. “This is so weird. I don’t understand any of this. I mean one day she goes off to college, and the next she’s back here about to get married.”
“People change,” Christopher said.
“I guess so. I just wasn’t ready for it, that’s all.”
They had finished eating. Christopher paid the bill, and they walked out to the car.
“Can I ask you a question?” Jeremy asked as they pulled onto the street.
“Sure.”
“You will treat her okay, won’t you?” Jeremy asked.
“I will, Jeremy, I promise.”
“The reason I asked is … well, even though we didn’t always get along, she is my sister, and she wasn’t mean to me all the time. Sometimes she helped me a lot. Like I could ask her questions about things that were happening in school. She’d gone through it all before, so she knew a lot of things. She helped me know what teachers to get, and what to say when people were trying to get me to make some bad choices. One time she went to one of my games, and I really messed up and lost the game, but she stuck up for me in front of the whole team. Then she took me out and bought me something to eat, and we sat in the car and talked, and she said I’d done my best and that’s all that mattered. One time when I got kicked out of class for talking back to one of the teachers, she came to my room and just listened to me, and she didn’t say I’d done wrong. She just listened to me. That meant a lot to me, but I never told her … but I should’ve … and now you’re going to take her away … just when we were starting to get along. But see, the thing is, I still need her.”
“I’m not taking her to Mars. She’ll still be around. You can still ask her advice.”
“But she’ll be an old married lady.”
“She’ll still be your sister, no matter what. She’ll still love you.”
Jeremy gasped. “You think she loves me?”
“I know she does. She talked about you on the first date we ever had.”
“What did she say about me?”
“She told me about the time in high school when she had a date, and you went out and changed the number on your house, so the guy drove around for an hour trying to find your place.”
Jeremy smiled, “Yeah, those were the good old days.”
“Jeremy, I think you need to tell her how much she means to you.”
“I could never do that.”
“Why not?”
“She’d have a heart attack or something,” Jeremy said.
“I think you ought to risk it.”
“What would I say?” Jeremy asked.
“Just tell her what you told me.”
Jeremy thought about it. “I guess I could do that.”
They drove back home.
“Do you think I’ll ever be like you?” Jeremy asked.
“I’m sure you will.”
“This is so weird.”
“It’s not weird. It happens all the time. Let’s go in and get Michelle up so you can talk to her.”
“Tonight,” Jeremy asked, feeling himself getting panicky.
“It has to be tonight. We’re leaving in the morning.”
Jeremy felt nervous. “I’m not sure how to do this.”
“Just do it the same way you did with me.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jeremy and his sister left to go get some pancakes. After that night it was months before Jeremy could look another pancake in the eye.
But at least he finally told his sister he loved her.

Tommy was smaller than the other boys. When he played football at school, he was often mowed down. When he played basketball, he got more elbows in his face than chances at the ball. But when it came to chicken wrestling on the monkey bars, Tommy was the greatest!
One day when Tommy was changing his clothes after school, his mother asked, “Tommy, where did you get all those bruises?”
“Oh, those,” said Tommy, and he grinned as he looked down at his black and blue legs. “Those are from chicken wrestling.”
“Chicken wrestling!” repeated his mother. “What on earth is that?”
“It’s when two kids swing out to the middle of the monkey bars from opposite sides,” answered Tommy. “Then they wrap their legs around each other and tug and pull. The toughest kid hangs on, and the other kid lets go and falls to the ground.”
“Tommy, you’re too little to play something like that with all those big boys,” said his mother. “No wonder your legs are bruised.”
Tommy grinned. “Well, I’m not very good at a lot of things,” he admitted, “but these skinny arms and hands can sure hang on to those monkey bars. I’ve beaten every kid in school so far except Bruiser Boswell, and I’m going to beat him today!”
“Bruiser Boswell? Who’s he?”
“Oh, he’s a big bully,” said Tommy. “He thinks he’s the toughest kid in school.”
“And you think you’re tougher than he is?” asked his mother.
“Not really,” replied Tommy. “He could beat me up in a hurry. I just think these skinny arms and hands can hang on to the monkey bars longer than his fat ones.”
When it was time for Tommy to meet Bruiser Boswell, a bunch of kids gathered around the monkey bars.
“Hey, you little runt,” Bruiser jeered as he swaggered up, “I’m going to stretch your arms five feet today. And if I don’t beat you at chicken wrestling, I’m going to beat you up anyway.”
“Listen, Bruiser,” said Tommy, “I know you’re the toughest kid in class, but these skinny arms and hands can hang on awfully tight to monkey bars.”
“Well, let’s just see how tight they can hang on,” said Bruiser. He began to climb up one side of the monkey bars, and Tommy started up the other.
When Tommy and Bruiser met in the middle of the bars, their legs were already flying and pulling and tugging. All the other kids were yelling and cheering them on. For a long time neither one could gain an advantage. Then Bruiser jerked Tommy’s leg really hard and Tommy’s right hand lost its grip. Tommy quickly regained his hold, then he twisted his legs tightly around Bruiser’s waist and pulled. As Bruiser gasped in surprise, his hands slipped from the bars.
“Wow! What a match!” someone said as Bruiser fell to the ground. “That’s got to be the longest match ever!”
Tommy, who was still hanging on to the monkey bars, looked at Bruiser lying on the ground. He thought it best not to let go for a while.
“That was the best chicken fight ever,” said Tommy.
Bruiser glared up at Tommy. “For you, maybe,” he said.
“You’re not mad at me, are you, Bruiser?” asked Tommy.
“I haven’t decided,” grunted Bruiser.
“Come on, Bruiser. You’ve got to have skinny little arms like mine to win at chicken wrestling. I can’t imagine the toughest guy in the class having skinny little arms instead of big strong ones like yours.”
“Nobody had better call my arms skinny!” threatened Bruiser as he looked at Tommy’s arms and then at his own.
“Well, they would have wondered if you’d won, ’cause everyone knows you have to have skinny arms to win at chicken wrestling.”
Tommy let go of the monkey bars and dropped down beside Bruiser. “I’d like to shake hands with the toughest kid in class, if it’s all right with you.”
“Sure, kid. Why not? I wouldn’t mind being friends with the best chicken wrestler in the class, even if you are sort of scrawny.”
When Tommy got home, his mother met him at the door. “How did it go with Bruiser Boswell today?” she asked.
“Oh, great!” he answered. “I may not be good at some things, but I am good at two things: One is chicken wrestling on the monkey bars, and the other is talking big guys out of fighting.”

In more than 165 countries of the world, our sisters are being instruments in the hands of God. I think of a ward in Brazil that has an influx of new members every week. The sisters in that Relief Society decided to set a goal to not let even one week pass without each newly baptized sister receiving a visit in her home and a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” and the Relief Society Declaration. So far they haven’t lost any sisters to inactivity.

I watched, confused, as my family and I watered the concrete foundation of our house. I felt ridiculous. Who has ever heard of watering a house? When we moved to Texas, USA, our neighbor explained that in that particular area we needed to water our house’s foundation so that the weather wouldn’t cause the house to settle and crack. So I watered the house, even though I felt crazy doing it.
The watering helped for a time, but eventually, our house started to crack. We soon discovered that our house wasn’t built on solid ground. It had been built on a landfill, which caused our house to sink as buried trash below decomposed over time. We watered the foundation, but our house would still crack. So we eventually moved away.

After my wife, Anne, and I received a call to serve as full-time mission leaders, our family determined to learn each missionary’s name before arriving in the field. We obtained photos, created flash cards, and began studying faces and memorizing names.

Once we arrived, we held introductory conferences with the missionaries. As we mingled, I overheard our nine-year-old son:

“Nice to meet you, Sam!”

“Rachel, where are you from?”

“Wow, David, you’re tall!”

Alarmed, I went to our son and whispered, “Hey, let’s remember to refer to the missionaries as Elder or Sister.”

He gave me a puzzled look and said, “Dad, I thought we were supposed to memorize their names.” Our son did what he thought was right based on his understanding.