Gospel Story Finder

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” I told my five-year-old daughter as she snuggled on my lap. A smile spread over her face.
“Oh, goody,” she said. “Then I get to see Brother Jay.”
Gratitude filled my heart. How thankful I felt for a loving, caring Primary teacher who had eased our transition to a new ward following a move. Leaving our home in the U.S. Midwest and relocating 1,350 miles (2,173 km) away had been traumatic for the whole family but especially for our preschooler, Season. Shy by nature, she feared new situations and was apprehensive about attending church our first week in a new ward.
Brother Jay, a gentle, dedicated man, blended just the right touch of humor and affection to win Season’s trust. On that first Sunday he crouched down, took hold of her hand, looked into her eyes, and said, “C’mon, sweetheart. You’ll have fun in our class.”
As the weeks passed, Season looked forward to Sunday more than any other day of the week. As soon as we arrived at church, she scanned the congregation for her teacher. He would smile in greeting.
Throughout the years Brother Jay remembered each student with little gifts for holidays and birthdays. When Season’s birthday approached, the most important guest she wanted to invite to her party was Brother Jay.
Could he have any idea how influential he had become in our little girl’s life? Would he ever guess how much his words and actions were internalized by his group of five-year-old Primary students? Could he possibly know how much it meant to me, as a mother, to have him be part of my daughter’s life?
Later, Season advanced to Brother Edward’s class, and her wonderful Primary experience continued. How thankful I am for all the conscientious, well-prepared, humble men and women who had a positive spiritual influence on Season’s life.

Even during the horror of World War II in the Netherlands—with my husband in hiding, bombs exploding, cold and hunger—the Spirit of our loving Father kept us close to God and close to the Saints. One day when I was serving as Relief Society president, I went with my ten-year-old daughter to visit an older sister who lived alone. When we arrived at Sister Smit’s small home she was reading. She told us she was so hungry that she had decided to read the Bible, because spiritual food could fill her, too.
In those days food was rationed, and in my pocket was a coupon for a loaf of bread for our children. I felt so concerned for this hungry sister that I gave my daughter the coupon and sent her to buy bread for Sister Smit. On the way home, I wondered how I would tell my children that I had given away the bread. I knew I had done the right thing, but now what was I going to feed them.
Upon arriving home, I found the answer. Some family friends in Zwolle had arranged for a letter to be hand-carried to us by their nephew. With the letter were three bread coupons.

I have always been eager to have my spiritual cup filled and my personal testimony refreshed. That’s why I have always looked forward to doing baptisms for the dead. Sitting inside the house of the Lord brings peace into my life.
One evening as I sat in the baptistry in the temple, my scriptures in my lap, I felt an impression to turn to D&C 128, a letter from Joseph Smith to the Saints concerning baptism for the dead. Verse 15 struck me particularly. It talks about those beyond the veil: “They without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect.”
As I pondered these words, I suddenly realized that going to the temple wasn’t just for me. Going to the temple is an opportunity to serve those who are no longer living. I came to understand that in attending the temple, I am serving my fellowmen, and in doing so, I am serving the Lord (see Mosiah 2:17).
As I listened to the names being read for baptisms, I thought of the people receiving the gospel beyond the veil, of their smiling faces, and of their happy families. It filled me with incredible joy and gratitude.
Now going to the temple is no longer about what I can get from it; it’s about service. It is about joining families together in the gospel for all eternity. It is doing something for someone that they can’t do for themselves. I am so grateful for the temple, and I strive to always be worthy to serve there.

As child, I learned that God gives us gifts that allow us to bless others (see Moroni 10:8–18). I prayed, “Heavenly Father, what gift can I develop that will bless Thy children?”
At age 16, I began to study singing at the encouragement of the director of the local conservatory. “You have a beautiful voice,” she told me.
When the audience applauded after my first vocal performance, a phrase came clearly to my mind: “This is your gift.” I wept because my prayer had been answered. In my country, however, it can be difficult to make a living as a musician. But I knew that the Lord prepares a way. So, I continued to study singing, seeking to become the best I could be.

Some years ago I coached a high school basketball team through a rather unusual season. The season began with a number of disappointing losses. Some of the fans and townspeople didn’t make a secret of their unhappiness over the team’s failures. There was considerable public comment, and it was a challenging time for members of the team. Several of them finally became discouraged and withdrew from the team. Those who remained didn’t lose faith in themselves or in their coach. The rough going seemed to be an incentive for them to try even harder.

At mid-season the team began to win their games. They qualified for the district tournament and surprised everyone there by winning a place in the state play-offs. To the amazement of everyone, they went on to win the state championship—the first ever to be won by that school!

Following the celebration and the awarding of trophies after the championship game, I drove several of the team members back to our city. There was silence during much of the ride as we each reflected on the incredible outcome of our season’s efforts. Finally, one of the young men spoke. (He had been honored for being one of the outstanding players in the tournament.) “Coach,” he said, “I think we were supposed to win tonight.”

I was curious to know what had prompted this conclusion. “Why do you think we were supposed to win?” I asked.

His response was simple and direct—and I will never forget its impact. “Because we paid the price,” he said.

Indeed they had, and I am sure the lessons learned by those young men during that eventful year have been valuable to them throughout their lives.

That experience began a long search in our family for the true church of Jesus Christ. The search ended with my mother, my sisters, and myself becoming members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My father came to believe that Joseph Smith was a prophet, but he died without being baptized.
Many times I have recalled that stormy night on Puget Sound with feelings of reverence and awe. It was out on that foamy, turbulent sea in the darkness, almost helpless, that my father realized that God rules in the universe.

Shortly after his victory as a middleweight champion, Martin was again injured in a life-changing automobile accident. Because of his injuries, he felt like he could not continue with his boxing career. He was discouraged and felt a loss in life. By this time, Martin and Nae were the parents of two young boys, Marvin, and Julius.
He continued to stay fit and to work, providing for his family. One day in 1995, the humbled Martin was assigned to deliver a copy machine to a local church. It was The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While making the delivery, he met missionaries who introduced him to the restored gospel and the Book of Mormon. They gave Martin a copy of the Book of Mormon and started teaching him.
Martin enjoyed reading the Book of Mormon and recognized the Spirit and direction it provided in his life. A few months later, after receiving a personal testimony, Martin Biney was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. As a new member of the Church, Martin attended every week, but for many years, his wife and children stayed home. Brother Biney states, “After I was baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, I felt blessed. I had more confidence and felt impressed to go back to boxing.”

The Southport Ward seminary class in Southport, Lancashire, England, wants to invite you to try one of the best service projects they’ve ever been involved in: They made a Christmas advent calendar with a different act of service for each day.

Their projects included sending Christmas presents to the missionaries from their ward, giving a special presentation to the elderly, child tending, visiting a handicapped girl, and planning a scriptural presentation for their own family home evenings, among other things.

“We learned the importance of serving our fellowman and made more out of Christmas with this project,” said Amy Harbon, 17. “It was fun to give to others not so well off.”

In a stake conference a number of speakers mentioned a certain man. After the session the General Authority met the man. He learned from others that more than fifty people had joined the Church because of him. The way he kept his yard, his home, his happiness, his good deeds to his neighbors all brought him opportunities to tell others how the gospel had blessed his life.
These two men had just committed themselves to do what everyone can do.

I had many responsibilities on our farm at a young age. When I was nine years old, one of my summer jobs was to keep a herd of twelve cows and twelve calves in the pasture. Unfortunately, they loved to push over our fence and gorge on the sweet alfalfa in an adjoining field. On one of their escapes, they got into an empty canal some twelve to fourteen feet deep. I knew that the canal would soon fill with water, drowning the trapped cattle.
I couldn’t move twenty-four cattle up the canal’s steep banks, and I didn’t know how else to save them, so I knelt and prayed for help. I was impressed to drive the cattle down the canal to another man’s property. I questioned the wisdom of this, because I didn’t know the property or its owner and I didn’t want to get stuck between even steeper banks. I obeyed the Spirit, however, and soon found a section of the canal where the cattle could climb out easily. And our neighbor didn’t mind. When I told my mother, she said that I had been inspired by Heavenly Father.

In a video series on mormonchannel.org, a young man named Bubba shares his story about how his life was headed for disaster.1 He had grown up in a violent home, where his father was murdered when Bubba was only three years old.

Bubba grew up choosing the same life he’d always seen. He joined a gang and started fights with anybody who crossed him. By high school he figured he would end up in prison before long. And he didn’t care.

God intervened. At this dangerous crossroads in his life, Bubba met a Latter-day Saint family who showed him loving kindness and goodness. He’d never been around people like this before—people who showed compassion and love. He started spending as much time with them as possible. When he asked the family why they acted the way they did, they said it was because of their faith in Jesus Christ.

He wanted to find out what they knew. He began praying and studying the scriptures. And soon he felt something he’d never felt before. “Surely there is a God, and He loves me!” Bubba says. With God’s help, Bubba began to build his life over again with Jesus Christ as the foundation, leaving his old life behind.

“My nature changed. Who I am as a human being is different than who I was. Now I have a purpose. I have a destiny,” he says. “I have somewhere that I’m going.”

These days Bubba sees his future with brightness, faith, and hope. “I know that it is only through Jesus Christ, my faith in Him, that will help me get to where I want to be,” he says.2

My interest in the Church had been sparked the winter before, and with the help of a friend, I began receiving the missionary discussions at her home.
After my fifth discussion with the missionaries, I went to church. That Sunday was fast Sunday, and during the testimony meeting I had an overwhelming feeling of peace and warmth. I had never felt so much love in one room. That day, my testimony of the Church started to grow.

Chandra’s little brother, Kendall, was a wiggle worm. He couldn’t sit still in church for five seconds. He crawled under the benches, and he dropped the hymnbook on the floor to listen to it thud. One Sunday he even escaped and went running down the aisle, laughing and giggling. That made Chandra want to crawl under the bench herself. “I don’t want to go to church next week,” she told her mother as they drove home in the car. “It’s too embarrassing when Kendall is such a wiggle worm.”
“It is embarrassing,” admitted mother, “but remember that it’s hard for a three-year-old to sit quietly for a long time. What could we do to help him?”
“I don’t know,” Chandra said crossly. “He’s just impossible.” When she got home, she changed her Sunday dress and went to the kitchen to set the table. There was Kendall doing puzzles. He was very quiet and seemed to be thinking intently. Chandra watched him for a minute. He can be quiet when he has something quiet to do, she thought. All of a sudden a great idea hit her. “I know how to de-wiggle this worm!” she exclaimed.
That afternoon while Kendall was napping, Chandra began. Her mother gave her some old magazines and Church manuals, and Chandra found pictures of things that Kendall liked—trucks, animals, and food. There were pictures of Jesus and of reverent children too. She glued them all to stiff paper, then cut them into puzzle pieces—but not very many, because she knew that three-year-olds need easy puzzles. She got some envelopes and carefully put each puzzle’s pieces into a separate envelope. She smiled as she looked at the puzzle of Captain Moroni. Kendall loved soldiers.
Now what? Chandra thought for a minute. Then she got out old coloring books, cut out pictures of animals, and glued light-colored flannel on the back of them. She made two of each animal by gluing plain paper to flannel and using the first animals as a pattern, then using a black marker for their outlines and simple details like eyes. She found some dark-colored flannel and cut out a large ark-looking boat. Putting all the pieces in a large manila envelope, she mused, Maybe Noah will help Kendall be quiet.
By this time Chandra was getting tired, but she had one more idea. She found an old sock that didn’t have a mate. She cut two eyes, a nose, and a mouth out of leftover bits of flannel and glued them onto the sock to make a puppet. She didn’t know how to put yarn on for hair, so she decided it could be bald. A bald bishop! That sounded good. She put her hand into the sock. The bald bishop looked very wise. “Thank you for your reverence during the sacrament,” he said.
After she put all the finished projects inside a book bag, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Mom!” she called. “Come see my Wiggle Worm Kit! It’s going to help Kendall be reverent in church.”
When Mother saw all the things Chandra had made, she was impressed. “I think this will really help,” she said. “Could I also put in a Bible storybook and some stickers? Maybe some drawing paper and a pencil would be good too.”
When everything was in the bag, Chandra heaved a sigh of relief. She was proud of her work. Thanks to the Wiggle Worm Kit, Kendall would be able to sit still longer and make less noise. “I wish Sunday was tomorrow!” she declared happily.

Before I had bone cancer, I was quite impatient. When I came home from the hospital, I suddenly needed a lot of patience. I had been right-handed, and now I had to learn to do everything left-handed.
One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times. I have learned that with a positive attitude and the Lord’s help, I can do what I have to do.

b. This hymn was written by William Clayton on April 15, 1846, during his journey from Nauvoo to Winter Quarters. The pioneers sung it often while traveling and in the evenings around their campfires. It continues to give comfort and courage to the Saints today.

Last fall when I entered college, I knew nothing about the Mormon religion, but it turned out that my best friend and a male friend are both Mormon. Since then I have read a great deal about the Church, and I want to say thank you for the insight your magazine has given me.
Debbie CoughlinPittsfield, Massachusetts

He entered his next rodeo when he was only five, and this time a pony bucked him off. But he still walked away with third-place honors.

We live in a fascinating and sometimes bewildering time. The other day I mentioned to one of my grandsons that I was going over the text of my conference talk. His face reflected his confusion. “You’re going to text your conference talk?” he asked. “I thought you had to give it in the Conference Center.”
While for some, texting would be easier, I’m grateful for this opportunity today to speak because I have a message I feel is important for that grandson and for my other grandchildren as well as for all of the youth of the Church.

I was living away from home for the first time when my parents separated. It was only my first month of college, and as my family life shifted, I struggled to understand the meaning of the word home. When my parents divorced and my family moved out of the home I had lived in for the last 18 years, I was especially confused. I knew I wasn’t homeless, but I certainly felt that way.
I have often heard the Church described as a “refuge from the storm” (D&C 115:6). Institute became that refuge for me as I battled this new storm in my life. I enrolled in institute, and while I don’t recall the exact words spoken in the lessons, I will never forget the feelings of peace and comfort that came to me as I listened. I began to discover the love my Heavenly Father has for me, and I became much more closely acquainted with the best counselor I have ever found: Jesus Christ.
I have to pay for my college education, yet I learn the most valuable lessons from institute classes, which are available to me for free. I see now that the definition of home isn’t necessarily the house in which you grow up but a place where life’s lessons are taught and love abounds. Because of what I learned and the Spirit I felt, institute has become a new home for me. It is wonderful having a place where I feel loved and welcome.

Sometimes late at night
When there’s no one else around
I get my dreams out.
They bound forth
And take in the open air.
I sit entertained
As they jump and stretch.
Then I listen eagerly
To all they have to say.
But after a while our adventures must end—
If they’re out too long
Someone else might see.
Now it’s always a challenge
Getting my dreams back inside—
They’ve outgrown their allotted space.