Gospel Story Finder

The home screen of my tablet shows apps in order of recently opened to last opened. As I was looking through it one day, I noticed that my scripture app was last. I thought nothing of it, but several weeks later I was on my tablet again and realized that I hadn’t read my scriptures in a while. I decided to start reading them again. Since then I have been studying and reading my scriptures every day. It has definitely helped me grow spiritually. I have a testimony now that the scriptures are true and that they can help me get through hard times. So, now every time I go into my tablet, the first app it shows isn’t a game with enraged birds or a video app but my scriptures!

Winnie flung her fifth-grade math book across the buckling boards of the front porch and hunkered down, peering into the deep recesses of the crawl space beneath the weathered frame house.
“Here, Barney. Come here, boy,” she called.
From the dusty darkness a black and tan hound lazily emerged. Winnie sat down on the bottom step as Barney stretched out at her feet. She stroked his long silky ears.
“Barney, do you know what happened to me in school today? Miss Benson asked the class which South American country is long and skinny and famous for its farm products, and Arthur Mosely yelled out, ‘Winnie Wainwright,’ and the class burst out laughing. Barney, I could have crawled right under my desk and died! Well, Arthur Mosely won’t get the best of me anymore! I’m going to see that he gets what he deserves!”
Later, when Winnie’s dad came in from the barn, she had steaming potato soup ready for supper.
“Hey, Punkin, how’s my girl?” asked Mr. Wainwright.
“Oh, I’m OK, I guess,” she muttered.
Dad hugged the tall thin girl and said, “Let me wash up for supper, and we’ll talk about it.”
Ever since Mother had died of cancer two years ago, Dad had tried to be a special friend as well as a father to Winnie.
They sat at the table and bowed their heads as Dad said a prayer and blessed the food: “Dear Heavenly Father, we give Thee thanks for our home, this food, and Thy love. Help us to live in such a way that we’ll bring honor to Thy name. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
When they raised their heads, Dad asked, “Now, Punkin, what’s troubling you?”
“I’m tired of Arthur Mosely making fun of me, that’s what. And I’m fixing to teach him a thing or two!”
“Now, hold on, Winnie,” Dad admonished. “You know it’s not right to be revengeful. Arthur will get what’s coming to him one of these days, and you won’t have to lift a finger.”
“Well, I already have a plan, Dad. The day after tomorrow Miss Benson is having her annual geography contest. The person with the best score will win a globe that revolves on a stand. Oh, Dad, wouldn’t it be nice to have a globe of my own?”
“Yes, Winnie, that would be nice,” replied Dad. “How stiff is the competition?”
“Well,” said Winnie, “that’s where Arthur comes in. He’s the best geography student because his dad is in the service. Arthur’s lived in Germany and Japan, and he knows a lot about geography. But I’m going to beat him!” she declared.
“Well, just do your best, dear, and do it for the right reasons,” cautioned Dad.
At school the next day Winnie took advantage of every available minute to study. When she got home, she looked at the map of the world in her geography book. It looked like a big jigsaw puzzle.
“If all those pieces were jumbled up in a box, I couldn’t put them together in a million years,” Winnie grumbled. Then she thought of Arthur. “Well, I’ll do it—one way or another!”
Winnie grabbed her geography workbook, tore out the world map, taped it to a sheet of notebook paper, and placed it in her book bag. She’d beat Arthur even if she had to cheat!
As Winnie read her Bible that night, she came to Luke 18:14: “For every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”
With her Bible still open, Winnie closed her eyes and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, does abased mean that Arthur Mosely is going to be brought down a notch or two, and does exalted mean that I’m going to finally get a little honor? Well, Heavenly Father, I’m going to help You do just that! In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Winnie shut the Bible, turned out the light, and went to sleep.
In class the next day Miss Benson finally said, “All right, students, clear your desks and get ready for the geography test.”
Winnie’s heart pounded, and her hands were moist.
The first question was to list the states on the eastern seaboard of the United States. That was easy. Number two asked for the countries that bordered Vietnam. Winnie thought and thought, but she just couldn’t picture Vietnam in her mind. I’ll have to use my map, Winnie thought. She stared at the test. As she reached for her notebook paper with the map on the back, she remembered the words of Dad’s prayer, “Help us to … bring honor to Thy name.”
Winnie stared blankly at the test for a minute. Then she lifted her head, straightened her shoulders, and breathed a sigh of relief. She left number two blank and proceeded to answer all the questions she could without the use of the map. Her hands became dry and steady, and her breathing slowed to normal.
When Winnie went to bed that evening, she said her nightly prayers. “Thank you, Heavenly Father, for helping me not to cheat on the test. If I had cheated, we’d both have been disappointed in me, and Dad would have been disappointed too. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
The next day Winnie watched Miss Benson award the prizes to the winners. Even when Arthur Mosely was presented with the globe, Winnie knew that in the things that really mattered she was a winner.

Elder Quentin L. Cook and Sister Mary Cook went to Brazil to visit members of the Church. They went to teach and share the love of Jesus Christ.
They visited the big city of Belo Horizonte. The name of that city means “beautiful horizon.” Elder Cook said it has the most beautiful sunsets he has ever seen!
Many people came to hear Elder Cook speak in a stake conference. He invited everyone to be a light. That means being a good example and helping others, like Jesus did.
Children were very happy to meet an Apostle of God!
Elder and Sister Cook visited a missionary training center. Missionaries share the light of Jesus Christ every day!
How can you be a light at home, in your neighborhood, and at school?
“When we are a light, we influence the world for the better.” —Elder Quentin L. Cook

It has been said that “nobody ever lost his shirt with his sleeves rolled up.” This theory was recently put to the test by a very ambitious group of youths from the Layton Utah West Stake. Working hard they scraped the old paint off and put the new paint on their stake farmhouse in the short space of three and a half hours.
Lights in the homes of ward members began clicking on at about 5:30 A.M. one recent Saturday, and soon Mia Maids, teachers, Laurels, priests, and their advisers were gathered together at the stake farm for breakfast. (The official passport to the scrumptious meal of ham, pancakes, and orange juice was a paint scraper!) After eating, the youths found they had more than enough energy to complete their project. Within an hour most of the old paint had been taken off by paint scrapers; in some cases, it was beaten off with the ends of brushes. Nearly three hours of brushing or rolling the paint onto the house followed, after which the young people joined together for a group picture to help them remember the morning’s work.
That evening they enjoyed themselves at a dance, but the truly memorable part of the day was summed up by Anne Rowley who said, “Our greatest sense of satisfaction came from the feeling that we were following the guidelines set down by our prophet and other Church leaders. We had made a concrete attempt to keep our community clean and orderly.”

Illustrating the faith of his mother, Elder Uchtdorf retold an experience his family encountered as refugees from Czechoslovakia during World War II. During a brief stop, his mom left the train to look for food. Upon returning, she could not locate the train and prayed for help. After the prayer she noticed her family and the train on a parallel track.
“Some of my memories of these days are of darkness and cold, but with the help of God, we were moved into days where a light was shining forth to all who came out of that darkness and coldness and were willing to accept the Savior,” he said.

The American secretary of state, William Maxwell Evarts, wrote to the British foreign secretary, the marquis of Salisbury, requesting the British government’s earnest attention on the matter of the emigration of members of the Church. He said it was “a deliberate and systematic attempt to bring persons to the United States with the intent of violating their laws.”2 The marquis, however, pointed out that the law of England did not invest the government with authority to institute inquisitorial examinations into the private opinions of its citizens and, in any case, it was not an offence to hold opinions which some may regard as injurious to morality. He therefore regretted that he couldn’t comply with the American government’s request but would distribute notices making known the law of the United States affecting polygamy and the penalties attached to its infringement.

One day I went to put geraniums in her planter box. I asked if she had a pair of work gloves. Disappearing for a moment, she returned with a new pair of white dress gloves.
“I just need a pair of old gardening gloves,” I objected. “These are too good for me.”
“Nothing is too good for your hands,” she replied.
Those were the last words she spoke to me. While I planted, she quietly passed away.

The friendship that Michelle and I had was one of those “one of a kind” things. It was a friendship that changed my life.
In the early stages of our friendship all that I knew about her was that her morals and values were much stronger than any of my other friends. It wasn’t until I was invited over to her house for a family home evening that I found out she was a Mormon.
It was at this family home evening that I was introduced to the gospel by two wonderful missionaries, Elder Stinchcombe and Elder Archibald. When they asked if I wanted to hear the discussions, I was filled with an unfamiliar but comfortable feeling. I accepted.
After having the discussions and resolving many of my concerns, we set a date for baptism. But, even though I felt good about my decision, I wanted some kind of confirmation that I was doing the right thing. I started to search desperately for the answer to my question, “Is the Church true?” I prayed morning, noon, and night, but I didn’t seem to be getting an answer.
It wasn’t until I met Davie Wilden, a Church member, that my hopes became a reality. After many hours of talking and reading with him, we decided it was time to pray. As we knelt and Davie began to pray, the room grew silent. He ended his prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help me; then it was my turn to pray.
I had just begun my prayer when I heard a voice. It said, “Say sorry, just say sorry.”
I prayed with all my heart for Heavenly Father to forgive my sins. I felt a warm, tingly feeling come right down through my arms and seem to pierce me to the very center. Five days later I was baptized.
Since then, my testimony of the gospel has grown stronger and stronger, and I know it came about through the prayers of myself and those who helped teach me the gospel. Exactly one year and two days after I was baptized, I entered the New Zealand MTC, being called on a mission to Perth, Australia. I now have a chance to experience the same joy as the people who taught me the gospel by sharing my testimony with others.

In elders quorum, you don’t just learn from a teacher; you also learn from the Spirit and everyone else in the quorum. All that perspective helps you gain greater insight into the things that you are taught. And that helps you be a better servant of the Lord. For example, since I’ve become an elder, I’ve started liking ministering a lot more! I think I take it a little more seriously because I know that when I’m a missionary in a few months, I’ll be visiting people and sharing gospel messages with them just like I do when I minister. Instead of just sitting there and letting my companion do all the teaching, I’ve started preparing for our visits. I make sure to speak up. I know it’s good preparation for my mission, but it has also made ministering more meaningful to me. I now have a greater appreciation for the people in my ward and the people I minister to.

It is well before 5 A.M. in the Tennessee hills when Tre (call him “Tray”) Pennington, 17, and his grandfather bump along an old dirt road in their pickup. There are no signs to point the way to the Duck River, no landmarks that would stand out to someone new. Mostly there are trees, thick, green, and heavy. It’s only where someone’s cleared out space for a farm or a home that you get any extended view.
Grandpa (call him ’Pa) slows the truck at a clearing and pulls in next to some trees. He doesn’t have to say a word. Tre knows it’s on foot from here. They scramble down a steep bank and pull their boat out of the underbrush, from the same place where they’ve tied it up every day for years. It’s a shallow boat, square on both ends.
They check to make sure there’s gas for the motor; they lift in the paddles and load a few plastic buckets on board. Then, for a few minutes, they wait.
It isn’t that there needs to be more light, although the sun is yet to crest over the hill. It isn’t a question of when the catfish will bite, because the trot lines ’Pa baited with grasshoppers yesterday have been in the water all night long. It isn’t even a question of sneaking a moment of rest before the work begins, because both the young man and his grandfather are eager to be on the river.
It is, quite simply, a moment of reverence, a pause to appreciate nature, to take in the beauty of a morning at its birth.
Finally it is ’Pa who whispers.
“Let’s go,” he says.
Tre responds with a nod. The boat glides into the mild current.
Soon they reach the lines. ’Pa holds the boat steady while Tre lifts each fish, flopping and slimy, out of the water. He brings them in one at a time, almost like taking laundry off a clothesline. Some fish, quite small, are set free. On the big ones, Tre guesses how many pounds.
“This one’ll go for five or six, won’t it Grandaddy?”
“More like four or five,” ’Pa responds.
Ask what kind of fish are in the river, and Grandpa will explain. “Lots of cats,” he says. “Blue. Yeller. Channel. Other fish, too. Perch, Bass, Carp. But you don’t take them often.”
This day when the four lines are cleared, the catch totals fifty catfish and one carp.
Tre does most of what little talking is done. He tells about the time ’Pa got knocked out of the boat by a tree limb and lost his hat. He teases Grandpa about the nickname Grandma gave him.
“She calls him a pelican,” he says, “because he could eat fish three times a day.”
Then there’s silence again, not the awkward silence of people who don’t know what to say, but the silence of men who know each other well.
“I wonder if we’ll see anything today,” Tre finally says as the boat turns for home. Often it’s deer, sometimes a beaver, once in a while a blue heron. Today they see a turtle.
Back home the catfish are cleaned and skinned, dipped in corn meal and fried. “What we don’t eat, we put in the freezer,” Tre explains. “We can trade it for beef.” The carp will be pressure cooked and bottled, then stored on the shelf like salmon. ’Pa can remember times during World War II when canned carp helped keep the family alive.

Jared Womack, of Franklin, Idaho, knows what team spirit is all about. After managing the Preston High School football team for five years, he received his letter in the sport. Jared also plays basketball and is a great example of good sportsmanship; he is always cheering for his teammates on the basketball team and finding ways to serve those around him.
“That’s just Jared,” says one classmate.
Although Jared has Down’s Syndrome, he is able to participate in school activities and hold an after-school job at a local grocery store. Jared is active in his priests quorum and blesses the sacrament regularly.

I was born into a poor family, and early in my life I had to work. This has been a great blessing to me. When I was twelve years old, I had to go to evening school because I worked ten hours during the day. Many times on the way to school I would sleep on the bus or train. Sometimes I would even fall asleep during class. However, upon arriving home late at night, I would always find my loving parents waiting for me.

There is a story that may offer significant insight. Outside Chattanooga, Tennessee, is a place known as Missionary Ridge. During the Civil War a numerically superior Southern force was dug in on the Ridge, protecting it against Northern attack. The defenders were well fortified and strongly entrenched, holding strategic positions that would seem to make them invulnerable. Yet the hill was lost. Why? The soldiers on Missionary Ridge were so isolated from each other that they had lost touch with each other. They could not hear their leaders through the din. Plainly visible to them were the large numbers of the enemy coming up the hill to attack them. Feeling alone and frightened, a few individual defenders panicked and surrendered and were soon joined by large numbers of their fellows. The battle was lost. They were not cowards; they thought they were alone.

A troop of kangaroos rescues the teddy bears of Koala Park after a green cloud of grasshoppers strips their gum trees of food. In repayment the bears put on a spectacular circus, but another shortage of food helps them to discover that true friends never owe each other anything.

Hola! I’m Elena. It’s my first time going to the temple.
A few weeks ago, I met with my bishop. He asked me some questions to help make sure I was ready to go to the temple. (You can read the questions on page 35!) Then he gave me my own temple recommend.
We’re getting ready to go. I get dressed in my Sunday best. I also pack some things to fix my hair after it gets wet. And I make sure I have my recommend. Now we’re off to catch the bus!
There’s the temple! It’s so beautiful.
When I walk inside the temple, I feel peaceful. I show my recommend to the nice temple worker at the front desk. Another temple worker gives me a white jumpsuit. I go to the locker room to change.
Now I wait for my turn to be baptized. When it’s my brother’s turn, I stand by the font to be a witness. I make sure he goes all the way under the water.
It’s my turn now! The water is warm. I’m baptized for several people in a row.
When I get out, a temple worker hands me a towel. I rinse off in the dressing room and change back into my Sunday clothes. When I come out, a temple worker takes me to be confirmed for several people.
My time in the temple was really special! I’m happy I could help others by being baptized and confirmed for them. I can’t wait to come back again soon.

Conner was learning so many new, wonderful things, but he had a hard time understanding a key principle. “There’s just so many people,” he says. “How could God know everything about me?” So he asked the missionaries.
Sister Jin and her companion prayed to know how they could show Conner that Heavenly Father cares about him personally. Inspiration hit. Conner had recently shared with them how he felt homesick for China and missed his favorite Wuhan noodles.
The missionaries prayed, asking Heavenly Father to help them find these noodles. A couple hours before their next lesson with Conner, Sister Jin and her companion felt impressed to walk to an area they didn’t regularly visit. Not long after they got there they were approached by a Chinese family. It turned out they were from Wuhan, too!
Sister Jin told them about Conner and how he missed his homeland. The family went to their car, pulled out a bag full of Wuhan noodles, and asked Sister Jin to give them to Conner.
Later, during their lesson with Conner, Sister Jin told him, “Conner, Heavenly Father knows you and He loves you, and He even knows what your favorite food is.” Then she handed him the bag.
“When she gave me the bag of noodles, it was very special,” Conner says. “I really felt the Spirit and knew in that moment that God really knows me.”
Conner was soon baptized and sealed to his family in the Salt Lake Temple. “I have a great family. I don’t say that a lot in front of people, but it’s true—it’s always a party! I feel like I chose this family. I waited a long time for them. Everything is so good now.”

I walked quickly to the campus library, a number of thoughts racing through my mind. The sun was bright, and the mountains stood majestic against the blue sky, begging me to stop and look for a while. But there was no time. Despite the beauty of the day, I had to study. Other students passed me, anxious as I was to prepare for mid-term examinations. I felt, however, that they would not have the same difficulty studying that I would experience. I tried to stop these negative thoughts, telling myself that this time it would be different. As I entered the university library, I mentally reviewed the composers I needed to know for my humanities test.
Music had always been a part of my life. Not only did I love music, but I loved to write words to simple melodies. Sometimes the words would be serious, expressing my innermost feelings; other times they would be silly, usually written to entertain the children I tended. Now here I was at a university studying the humanities and having a difficult time. Try as I might, for several weeks I had not been able to remember the information needed to do well in my schoolwork. Maybe I would do better today.
I quickly put my coat on a nearby chair and opened my humanities book. Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, born 1756 in Austria and died 1791. Composer of …
It started. “Not today!” I silently prayed. “Oh please, not today!” A confusion and blackness interfered with my thoughts. For two weeks now I had battled this. Every time I tried to concentrate on an important matter it happened. A stream of black, evil thoughts from an outside force would fill my mind. As a recent convert to the Church I was just learning ways to overcome the adversary. I had tried prayer, asking the Lord for help. But still this black cloud entered my thought process making it impossible to study or read.
Wofgang Amadeus Mozart, born 17 … 16. … I couldn’t remember. I felt my mind being pulled in different directions. As I tried to memorize, a hazy blackness distorted my thinking. Wolfgang … Mozart, what was his middle name? Words bounced around in my head having nothing to do with the subject at hand. Try again. Ignore the confusion in your mind. Who was I studying? I glanced back at the page telling of Mozart’s life. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, born 1756 … a flood of vulgar words entered my mind.
Frustration mounted within me as the intensity of this blackness grew stronger. I felt my head would burst. My eyes filled with tears. “Please, Father,” I pleaded silently, “please help me. I can’t go through this much longer.”
No sooner had I offered up this prayer than the heavens responded. Cutting through the confusion, a beautiful poem was spoken to my mind—not only spoken, but imprinted so that after hearing it only once I knew it by memory. Each word was clear and full of meaning. The mental anguish I had experienced moments before gave way to a beautiful message of hope:
Fear not, I am with thee;
Oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
I’ll strengthen thee, help thee,
And cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.
For the next few minutes I sat awestruck, marveling over what had happened. It was hard for me to grasp the idea that God not only answered my prayer but answered it in an artistic way. Not that I thought him incapable, but I found it hard to comprehend that God would take time to relate to my specific personality in such a personal way. I repeated each word to myself, thinking about God’s message to me. He really loved and cared about me. He knew all the frustrations I had experienced, and before they became too much to handle, came to my aid. I believed what he said to me; he would never forsake me. I let the wonder of this experience fill my soul as I studied for my test.

Unfortunately, elements of Todd’s story can be seen in the lives of many young men today, even among members of the Church. However, Todd didn’t have something young men of the Church have: righteous role models. Adult Church leaders can be a great blessing to teens during one of the most critical stages of their lives. Because of his background, Todd, who joined the Church at age 22, now tries to be a positive role model to youth in his ward.
A few years later, after his baptism and temple marriage, Brother Sylvester was called to serve in the Young Men program—a calling that would lead him to 14 years of serving the young men.
Using his past as motivation to help the young men he was called to serve, Brother Sylvester found a way to relate to the struggles he saw the boys go through. “I think most kids are afraid to talk about when they are struggling,” he says. “But I shared my story with these kids every year. I think because of that, they felt comfortable coming to me saying, ‘Hey, I’m struggling with pornography or drinking or suicidal thoughts.’” Brother Sylvester could support them as they worked on repenting, which included visits with the bishop.
“Most boys long to have a relationship with their dads,” says Brother Sylvester. “If they don’t have that, the next best thing is to be able to have a male adult figure they can talk to, bounce ideas off, and not be judged, ridiculed, or criticized because of their problems. I wasn’t there to replace their dads, but I wanted to be there so they could talk to me in a way that is healthy.”
None of the strong relationships that Brother Sylvester created with the young men were immediate; he had to cultivate those relationships through years of service. Of the 20 young men he taught, 17 went on to serve missions. At least 5 of these had no intention of serving before interacting with Brother Sylvester.
“The reason why I had such success with these boys is that they knew I absolutely loved them,” Brother Sylvester says. “They knew it—not because I said it but because I acted it. I really focused on their having a relationship with their Savior. I just felt that was the key for them to get through everything and to move forward in life and be successful.”
By helping young men develop a relationship with the Savior, Brother Sylvester hoped that their testimonies would lead them toward serving missions, being married in the temple, and raising a righteous family. “That is the plan of happiness,” he says. “That is why [helping the youth] is important.”

May I bear humble testimony to that fact? I was once in a situation where I needed help. The Lord knew I needed help, as I was on an important mission. I was awakened in the early hours of the morning and was corrected on something that I had planned to do in a contrary way, and the way was clearly defined before me as I lay there that morning, just as surely as though someone had sat on the edge of my bed and told me what to do.

I know of at least two people listening today who want that blessing with all their hearts. They will try earnestly to draw nearer to the Lord during this conference. They each wrote to me—their letters arriving at my office in the same week—pleading for the same kind of help.
Both of them are converts to the Church and have previously received clear testimonies of the love of God the Father and of His Son, Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world. They knew that the Prophet Joseph Smith organized the Church by direct revelation from God and that the keys of the holy priesthood were restored. Each felt a witness that keys are in place in the Church today. They bore to me their solemn testimony in writing.
Yet both lamented that feelings of love for the Lord and His love for them were lessening. They both wanted, with full heart, for me to help them regain the joy and the feeling of being loved that was theirs as they came into the kingdom of God. Both expressed a fear that if they could not regain in full those feelings of love for the Savior and His Church, the trials and tests they faced would finally overcome their faith.
They are not alone in their concern, nor is their test a new one. During His mortal ministry, the Savior gave us the parable of the seed and the sower. The seed was the word of God. The sower was the Lord. The survival of the seed and its growth depended on the condition of the soil. You remember His words:
“And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up:
“Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth:
“And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away.
“And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them:
“But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold.
“Who hath ears to hear, let him hear” (Matthew 13:4–9).