Gospel Story Finder

One day when I was at the grocery store with my mom and my grandma, I found some money on the floor. I picked it up and showed it to my mom. She asked me what we are supposed to do when we find something that doesn’t belong to us. We went to the office, and I turned it in so the person who lost it could find it. The people in the office thanked me for being so honest, and they took my name and phone number. They said that if no one came for the money, they would call me and I could have it. I felt happy inside because I had done the right thing. I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus were proud of me.

On Sundays my mom usually woke me up so I could get ready for church and get there before the meetings began. But one Sunday my mom didn’t wake me up. I woke up by myself and noticed that I didn’t hear the usual noise of my family getting ready for church. I nervously looked at the clock and realized I was half an hour late for church. I had missed the sacrament. I probably would miss Sunday School too.
I felt confused and abandoned. Why didn’t my mom wake me up this morning? She always woke me up. But then it hit me: It wasn’t my mom’s responsibility to wake me up so I could get to church on time—it was mine. I had made my own covenants with Heavenly Father, and it was my responsibility to keep them.
Later that day my mom commented on not waking me up for church. She said that she wouldn’t wake me up again. She told me that I should put in my own effort and gain my own testimony.
During that week, I found myself thinking about how I couldn’t live on my parents’ testimonies forever and how I should try harder to strengthen my own testimony. Since then, I have worked hard to wake up early every Sunday so that I can make it to church on time and take the sacrament. I am learning to be spiritually self-sufficient.
Lia Alves, Ceará, Brazil

One day, I was really excited about being with my friends at kindergarten. I wore my CTR ring and necklace to school.
A new girl in my class is really mean. At recess that day, all my friends were around her, so I went over to see what was going on. The new girl had made up a new club, and all of my friends had joined it. She asked if I wanted to join. I asked her what kind of a club it was and what I had to do to be a member.
She said, “In order to be in my club, first you have to raise your right hand and say, ‘There is no God’ and ‘Jesus does not live and has never lived.’”
It made my heart hurt! I looked down at the CTR ring on my finger. Then I looked at the mean girl and said, “You are very, very wrong. There is a God, and Jesus does live. If this is what I have to say, then I don’t want to be in your club.”
After I said that, she pushed me really hard, and all my friends laughed and made fun of me.
I told my mom about it that night and cried and cried. She told me she was proud of me and cried with me. She said, “Taylor, you know that you belong to something better than the best club in the whole wide world. You belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and it doesn’t have ten or twelve members. It has millions of members. And it is true. The gospel is true.” She told me that I had a lot of courage to stand up for God, Jesus Christ, and the gospel.
When I prayed that night, I asked Heavenly Father to help the mean girl know that He and Jesus live.
The next day at school, the girl went up to our teacher and asked her, “Do you believe there is a God? And do you believe that Jesus really lived?”
The teacher said, “Yes, I do believe in God. And yes, I do believe that Jesus lived.”
My friends came up to me later and said that they were sorry and that they didn’t want to be in that club anymore.
And the next day after that, the girl came to me at recess and asked, “Can you tell me a little bit about your church?”
I am really glad that I know that there is a God and that Jesus Christ lives and that I stood up for what I believe.

Sister Hazel Gotts, a widow who is a recent convert, was visited by Gerilynn Price and Mark Packard, the priests quorum group leader. They took her a cake. Mark reports, “I enjoyed talking with a person who has been around so long and seen so much. I think it’s a good way for the youth and older people to get to know and understand each other better. I had a very nice feeling when I left, knowing I had made someone happy, and I know she was very happy to know that someone cares about her. She enjoyed telling us about herself. I think it would be nice if the youth could establish a close relationship with the elderly people in the ward.”

I have often wondered why that tough Marine Corps sergeant spared me that day. But I am grateful I was able to say without hesitation, “Yes, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” and “Yes, I know the Book of Mormon is true.” This testimony is a precious gift given to me through the Holy Ghost with the help of two missionaries and a priests quorum adviser.
When I was 14 years old, two missionaries, Lee Pearson and Boyd Camphuysen, taught my family the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and I was baptized. Two years later my priests quorum adviser, Richard Boren, challenged me to read the Book of Mormon. I accepted that challenge, and I read at least 10 pages every night until I finished.
On the title page I read that it is “written to the Lamanites, who are a remnant of the house of Israel; and also to Jew and Gentile.” In the introduction to the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ, it says that the Lamanites “are among the ancestors of the American Indians.” As I read the Book of Mormon, it seemed to me that it was about my American Indian ancestors. It tells the story of a people, a part of which were later described as “Lamanites,” who migrated from Jerusalem to a “land of promise” (1 Nephi 2:20) about 600 B.C. It is an account of God’s dealings with these ancient inhabitants located somewhere on the American continents. It includes an account of the ministry of Jesus Christ among them following His Resurrection. Passages in the Book of Mormon suggest that over time they were dispersed throughout the American continents and islands of the nearby seas (see Alma 63:9–10). Their prophets foretold that many multitudes of Gentiles would eventually come to this land of promise and the wrath of God would be upon the Lamanites and they would be scattered, smitten, and nearly destroyed (see 1 Nephi 13:10–14).
My great-grandfather Echo Hawk, a Pawnee Indian, was born in the mid-1800s in what is now called Nebraska. When he was 19 years of age, the Pawnee people were forced to give up their 23-million-acre (9.3 million ha) homeland to make room for settlers. In 1874 the Pawnee people were marched several hundred miles south to a small reservation located in the Oklahoma Indian Territory. The population of Pawnee people had declined from over 12,000 to less than 700 upon their arrival in Oklahoma. The Pawnee, like other tribes, had been scattered, smitten, and nearly destroyed.
The Book of Mormon has a special message for descendants of the Lamanites, a remnant of the house of Israel. Nephi expressed this message while interpreting his father’s vision of these latter days: “And at that day shall the remnant of our seed know that they are of the house of Israel, and that they are the covenant people of the Lord; and then shall they know and come to the knowledge of their forefathers, and also to the knowledge of the gospel of their Redeemer, which was ministered unto their fathers by him; wherefore, they shall come to the knowledge of their Redeemer and the very points of his doctrine, that they may know how to come unto him and be saved” (1 Nephi 15:14).
The Book of Mormon is sacred scripture. It contains the fulness of the everlasting gospel. The Prophet Joseph Smith wrote that “the Book of Mormon [is] the most correct of any book on earth, and the keystone of our religion, and a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book” (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith [2007], 64). Thus, it has a message for all people of the world.
As a 17-year-old boy reading the Book of Mormon for the first time, I focused on Moroni’s promise: “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4).
As I knelt in prayer, I received a powerful spiritual witness that the Book of Mormon is true. That witness has helped me chart my course through life.
I exhort all people to read the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ.
I especially ask the remnant of the house of Israel, the descendants of the people of the Book of Mormon, wherever you may be, to read and reread the Book of Mormon. Learn of the promises contained in the Book of Mormon. Follow the teachings and example of Jesus Christ. Make and keep covenants with the Lord. Seek for and follow the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
I close with the words spoken by Amaleki, another Book of Mormon prophet: “And now, my beloved brethren, I would that ye should come unto Christ, who is the Holy One of Israel, and partake of his salvation, and the power of his redemption. Yea, come unto him, and offer your whole souls as an offering unto him, and continue in fasting and praying, and endure to the end; and as the Lord liveth ye will be saved” (Omni 1:26).
As we come unto our Savior, Jesus Christ, and purify our hearts, we will all be instruments in fulfilling the mighty promises of the Book of Mormon. Of this I testify in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Elaine Jennings, a Laurel in the Worthington Ward, Crawley England Stake, is excited about missionary work. While attending an international student conference in Italy (where this picture was taken) Elaine shared her standards and beliefs with the girls she roomed with at the conference.
Elaine also knows that the temple is a powerful missionary tool. She recently invited five of her school teachers to tour the London Temple prior to its rededication. Of the four who attended, one asked to meet with the missionaries.
Although none of those teachers has joined the Church, Elaine knows that what she did was important.
“I did what I could,” says Elaine. “I invited them to feel the Spirit, but it’s up to them to make the choice and act on it.”

Some years ago I was visiting family, when the bishop asked me to conclude the sacrament service. As I was coming down from the stand, a woman approached me with her seven children and introduced herself as Sister Rebecca Guzman.
She asked, “Elder Rasband, do you know Rulon and Verda Rasband?”
I beamed and replied, “They are my parents.”
You can see where this is going. With Rebecca’s permission, who is here with family in the Conference Center, I share her family’s story.
My parents, Elder Rulon and Sister Verda Rasband, were serving as a senior couple in the Florida Fort Lauderdale Mission. They were proselyting and by divine guidance knocked on the door of Rebecca’s home. She was just a teenager and loved listening to the music of the Osmonds, in particular our friend Donny—who is here with us today. She had listened to their media interviews and learned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She felt there was something different about them, and thinking it might be their religion, Rebecca spent two years researching the Church’s beliefs in the school library. So, when a kindly-looking couple knocked on her family’s door and introduced themselves as Latter-day Saint missionaries, she was taken back.
“My mother told me to get rid of them,” Rebecca later wrote, “but my heart said, ‘No.’ I looked into their faces, and I felt so much warmth and love. The memory still brings tears to my eyes and deep emotion to my heart.”
Rebecca invited them in, and my missionary parents shared a message with her, her two younger sisters, and, despite her objections, her mother.
Rebecca described to me: “Both your parents were wonderful in explaining any questions we had. I can still see their faces as if there was light surrounding them. We always hugged your mother when she left, and she always made a point of helping my mother feel comfortable and respected. Your father always had a sparkle in his eyes as he was teaching us about Jesus Christ. He tried to include my father in discussions and eventually won him over. My father was a chef at a local country club and started cooking dinners for your parents, including making your father’s favorite, key lime pie.”
When Elder and Sister Rasband asked Rebecca and her family to read the Book of Mormon, Rebecca did so in five days. She wanted to be baptized immediately, but the other members of her family were not ready. After four months, Rebecca insisted she be baptized and join the true Church. She recalled, “Every fiber of my soul knew it was true.” On April 5, 1979, missionaries baptized 19-year-old Rebecca, her mother, and two sisters. My father was a witness at the baptism.
When I met Rebecca and her family at church, we took a photograph of her family with me. I took it home to my elderly mother, and she held it close to her heart. Then she said to me, “Ronnie, this is one of the happiest days of my life.”

I love dinosaurs! I have lots of dinosaur books, toys, and pictures. There is a boy in my ward who doesn’t come to church with his family. He loves dinosaurs too, so I decided to share some of my dino books and pictures with him. But then I started feeling sad about giving away some of my things. My mom told me to think about it. When I thought about it, the Holy Ghost told me to share my dinosaur pictures and books. I gave them to my friend, and he felt happy. I felt happy too!

One who escaped a brush with gang life is Ath Ket, 16, a Cambodian by birth. Ath recalls what his life was like before he encountered the Church: “It was pretty bad. I used to hang around gang members a lot.” And if he hadn’t met the elders that day four years ago as he walked along the Boston Common? “I’d probably be hanging around, fighting, stealing cars, drinking.”
But Ath did meet the Elders and did agree to hear the lessons. He had already been baptized into another church, but the missionaries’ message rang true. “I feel good about the Church. Now I know it’s true. I learn more about it every day.”

It was a beautiful day in the hills of Tennessee, and I was on a two-hour training ride for cycling with my uncle. For the first half of the ride the wind was at our back, and we flew right along without any difficulty. When we changed direction, however, we found out why our ride had been so easy. Now the wind, which was blowing hard at about 20–30 miles an hour, was in our faces.
In cycling there is a technique, called drafting, where one person rides in the front and uses the most energy to break the wind for the person who rides right behind.
My uncle is a big guy—about 6 foot 3 inches tall and 240 pounds—so he was having a horrible time trying to keep up with a little 17-year-old on a road bike. About halfway home the wind was at its worst, so I accelerated ahead and slid in front of my uncle.
The next day at church he talked about how much of a difference it made. “You’re little, but the amount of wind you blocked made such a significant difference.” He then made a comparison that has changed my life. He said, “It’s almost like when you are having trouble in life, you let the Savior slip in front of you and you get behind Him. You still have to work to stay behind Him, but the wind He blocks makes a world of difference.”
After that ride I was worn, hurting, and beat, but after hearing my uncle, I realized that all I have to do is let the Savior lead and then do the work to stay behind Him, and He will take the wind for me.

A few years ago, I was with my noble 97-year-old grandmother. As she sat curled in her wheelchair, weak and nearly blind, she talked quietly of her life. I said: “This is a wicked world. There are so many temptations and challenges. Is it possible to stay worthy and return to our Heavenly Father?” She slowly raised herself tall and erect and said in a commanding voice: “Yes! You must! That’s why you’re here!” Thank you, Grandma, for teaching me about hope.

Trevon Morris was among the first Pathway alumni and was the first to matriculate and complete a bachelor of science degree in computer science at the Brigham Young University-Idaho. This brave move has impacted his life tremendously. After completing the life skills course, Trevon said that he became debt free because he learned how to budget. Since enrolling in Pathway many years ago, his salary has increased, and he is now being considered for a promotion. Trevon said, “Pathway put me into BYU-I, where my skills have been enhanced tenfold . . . Life could not be better.” There are many others with similar success stories like Trevon and now everyone can have the same opportunity.

Josh patted his stomach, feeling more than a little full.
“That was so good,” he said, smiling at Mom and Dad.
“Are you done already?” Mom asked. “You must have been really hungry.”
“I was,” Josh said. He eyed the indoor playground in the restaurant where they were eating. “Can I go play now?”
Dad nodded. “Go ahead.”
Josh jumped up from the table, cleared away his trash, and headed to the playground. He knew it wouldn’t be long before his little brother and sister came to join him.
He had just finished climbing to the top of what he imagined to be a giant mountain where he was about to battle a dragon when he heard a voice chirp from far below.
“Joshy?”
That was his sister Anna’s nickname for him. She was almost four. He loved her a lot.
“Just a minute, Anna,” Josh called out as he raced for the twisty slide. In a flash he was down at the bottom, ready to help his sister climb. About halfway up, his younger brother, Brian, joined them. The three of them started off on a grand adventure with dragons and knights and princesses. Anna was the princess, of course. Josh wanted to be the knight, and Brian was happy to be a growly dragon.
It wasn’t long before their imaginary world was interrupted by a group of children coming in to play. Josh didn’t mind. He liked making new friends. After a few minutes, though, he began to wonder if playing with them was a good idea. The kids were nice, but they kept swearing.
Josh had been baptized a year ago, and he had been trying hard to choose the right. Mom and Dad had been talking a lot about choosing which words to use. They had taught him that Heavenly Father didn’t like swearing, mean words, or name-calling.
Josh really wanted to stay and play, but he didn’t like listening to bad words. Maybe the other kids would stop if he asked. Josh turned to the group. “Could you please not swear?” he asked quietly.
“Whatever,” one of the boys said. None of the kids stopped swearing. Josh said a quick prayer asking what to do. Into his mind popped an image of himself dressed in knight’s armor, fighting a dragon. Behind him were his brother and sister. All of a sudden, Josh knew it was more important to protect his little brother and sister from hearing the swearing than to keep playing.
“Come on, guys,” Josh said. “Let’s go see Mom and Dad.”
The three of them went down the slide and ran to their family.
“What are you doing back so soon?” Dad asked, ruffling Josh’s hair.
Josh shrugged. “Some kids in there were swearing,” he said. “I didn’t want Anna and Brian to hear it.”
Dad patted him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you for watching out for your little brother and sister.”
Josh smiled. It was almost like he really was a knight watching over those he loved while fighting a dragon. Josh also knew he’d done more than protect his brother and sister—he had also protected himself.

But joining the Church didn’t solve all their problems. Finances got even tougher, and the family moved to the country. Outside the little village of St. Edouard de Frampton, the Ferlands took charge of a dilapidated farm, and by sheer willpower worked to improve it. Mother still talks about tending children at the same time she was digging post holes in the stubborn earth.
Though father, now a truck driver, was often on the road, he worked hard at home too. He expanded the cellar, added a new room, stacked wood for the winter. The garden yielded plenty of food. Clément loved to play in the barn, and Marie Claude loved the animals, especially a pig named Pogo who followed the children to school.
To school. That was the rub for Christine. At age eight, it wasn’t easy being the only Mormon in her class, and except for her brother and sister, the only one in school.
The teacher talked to Christine’s mother. “Why doesn’t Christine come to church in town? All the other children are ready for their first communion. She’s the only one left out.”
When the class had to make the sign of the cross and pray in front of statues, Christine would not. Confronted by the teacher, Christine replied simply, “It isn’t right to pray to a statue.”
Over the years, the others learned to make fun of her. There were rude comments in the halls. Some would call on the phone, just to say stupid things. Christine’s grades, which had always been good, dropped.
Finally, it was time to move on to secondary school. Christine was excited to advance, to start fresh with new teachers and more students. But the same students from Frampton would be in school there, and she was sure the same old trouble would follow her.
It didn’t. There were already several students from different religions. Like a miracle, Christine was no longer a “freak.” She made friends. In fact, she found a best friend. They were inseparable for years.

Randol lived in Bolivia. He loved going to school, and he took good care of his schoolbooks. His favorite book had a yellow cover and interesting drawings.
One day Randol could not find his yellow book. His mom and dad helped him look, but they still could not find it.
Randol was very sad. “Let’s pray,” Randol’s father said. “We’ll ask Heavenly Father to help us.”
After the prayer, Randol’s father had an idea.“Let’s talk to your uncle,” he said. “Maybe his children used the same book and they will let you borrow it.”
“This will be the answer to our prayer,” Randol thought.
Randol’s family went to his uncle’s store. They asked him about the yellow book. Uncle said his children had never used that book.
Now Randol was confused. Wasn’t Heavenly Father going to answer their prayer?
Just then, some men came into Uncle’s store selling books. They had the book with a yellow cover!
Randol’s father bought the book. Randol thanked Heavenly Father for answering his prayer.

I auditioned for a play at my school. A few weeks later, I found out I had gotten one of the main parts! I was really excited, and rehearsals were going to be really fun. When I got a letter about when rehearsals were, I found out that loads of them were on the Sabbath day. I was so disappointed, so straightaway I told the teacher in charge that I could only go to a few rehearsals, so there would be no point in me being in the play. I may have been a bit sad about losing such a good part, but now I don’t care because I love church and nothing would stop me from going!

I’m having a birthday party next weekend, on the 23rd. We’re going to Funland Park at two o’clock. Can you come?
I’d love to! Let me check with my mom.
Yes! I’m starting to fit in. Allie is really nice. Her party should be fun.
I know it’s on a Sunday, but maybe it would be OK just this once. Besides, I don’t want to hurt Allie’s feelings.
If I ask Mom and Dad, they’ll probably tell me it’s my decision. What should I do?
The next day at school …
I’m sorry I can’t come to your party. I’m glad you invited me, and I hope you have a great birthday. Can we hang out another time?
Can we bake some birthday cookies to take to my friend Allie this weekend?

When I decided to serve a mission, my friends encouraged me to finish college instead. But I decided to go on a mission anyway, and they wondered why. One of my friends said a mission was a waste of time, and I was a little offended by that. But I told him why my mission was important to me. Now I’m on a mission, and I still write my friends and share the blessings I’m receiving as a result of being a missionary.
Elder Janray MillarezPhilippines Quezon City Mission

Many years ago, Sister Bednar and I were busy trying to meet the countless competing demands of a young and energetic family—and of Church, career, and community responsibilities. One evening after the children were asleep, we talked at length about how effectively we were attending to all of our important priorities. We realized that we would not receive the promised blessings in eternity if we did not honor more fully the covenant we had made in mortality. We resolved together to do and to be better as a husband and a wife. That lesson learned so many years ago has made a tremendous difference in our marriage.

Many years ago, our family had an experience which left an indelible impression as to the importance and value and power of a father’s blessing. The lessons learned may be of interest to you.
When our oldest children were ready to begin formal schooling, Sister Bateman and I decided that a father’s blessing would be given to each child at the beginning of the school year. The family home evening preceding the start of school would be the occasion. The year our oldest son, Michael, entered the third grade holds special memories for us. During the preceding summer he had participated in Little League baseball. He loved the sport. When we gathered for family home evening just before the start of school, Michael announced that he did not need a blessing. He had completed his first season in Little League, and blessings were for younger children.
Sister Bateman and I were stunned. We encouraged him, suggesting that a blessing would help him with his schoolwork. It would be a protection to him. It would help him in his relations with his brothers, sisters, and friends. Our encouragement, along with some coaxing, failed. He was too old. Believing in the principle of agency, we were not about to force a blessing on an eight-year-old. All of the children except Michael received a blessing that year.
The school year proceeded normally. Michael and the other children did well in school, and the family enjoyed their associations together. Then the following May arrived, and it was time for Little League baseball to begin. Following the last day of school, Michael’s coach called a team practice. Michael’s anticipation could not have been greater. His dream was about to be realized. He was to be the starting catcher. The baseball diamond was only a few blocks from our home. The boys and the coach walked to the baseball field, crossing a busy highway. Following the practice, the boys and coach started for home. Michael and a friend ran on ahead of the coach and the other boys. As the two boys approached the busy highway, Michael failed to look and darted in front of a car driven by a 16-year-old young man out for his first drive. Can you imagine the fear that must have struck the young man’s heart? He slammed on the brakes and swerved in an attempt to miss the boy. Unfortunately, the side of the front fender and bumper hit Michael and threw him down the highway.
A short time later, Sister Bateman and I received a telephone call from the police. Michael, in critical condition, was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital. It was important that we hurry. Before leaving, I called a friend and asked him to meet us at the hospital and assist in giving a blessing. The 20-minute drive was the longest of our lives. We prayed fervently for the life of our son and to know the will of the Lord.
As we parked the car by the door of the emergency room, we saw a policeman exiting with a young man who was crying. The policeman recognized us and introduced the young man as the driver of the car. We knew enough of the story to put our arms around him and tell him that we knew it was not his fault. We then entered the hospital to find Michael. As we entered his room, the doctors and nurses were working feverishly, attending to his needs. My friend had arrived, and we asked if it would be possible to have two or three minutes alone with him. My priesthood brother anointed, and I sealed. As I laid my hands upon Michael’s head, a feeling of comfort and peace came over me, words flowed, and promises were made. He was then rushed to the operating room.
For the next four weeks, Michael lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged and his leg in traction. Each Wednesday, his Little League teammates would visit him after the game and give him a report. Each Wednesday, tears would well up in Michael’s eyes and run down his cheeks as the boys relived the game. After four weeks in traction, Michael was put in a body cast from his chest to his toes. On two or three occasions we took him to a game to watch his friends play. Another four weeks passed, and the body cast was replaced with a cast from his hip to his toes. Two days before school was to begin, the final cast was removed. As the family gathered the next night for school blessings, is there any wonder as to who wanted the first blessing? A nine-year-old boy, a little older and a lot wiser, was first in line.
Over the years our children have come to understand that accidents are not always prevented by priesthood blessings, but they also know that more than one type of protection is available through the priesthood. Today, our grandchildren are the recipients of priesthood blessings. The tradition is in the second and third generations. We believe that this practice, like the family, will prevail through the eternities.