Gospel Story Finder

And in all they do, there is love—love both expressed and self-evident. “I love my family a lot,” Lou says, “and I know they love me too. They’ve shown me many times that they do. My daddy proved it four times in particular. Those were the four times when I fell into the water before I knew how to swim. Daddy came in after me every time—shoes and all.

Third is an Attitude of Courage. I have seen courage in the military. I have witnessed courage in the classrooms of learning and the factories of industry.
Never have I observed its beauty more radiant than reflected from the service of a missionary. Often I am called upon to interview missionary candidates who have physical impairments. In considering the recommendation of one such candidate, the bishop of the ward had written:
“Brother (blank) is badly scarred due to an automobile accident. However, if courage will help, he’ll lead the lot.”
I made an appointment to visit with the lad. My initial reaction upon meeting him was one of overwhelming compassion.
“Son,” I explained, “if you were in the mission field, there would be those who would reject your message and you might feel that they were rejecting you. That would be unbearable.”
“Brother Monson,” he replied, “I have become used to that problem. It doesn’t bother me anymore. I so much want to serve the Lord and to preach the gospel. Please let me be called.”
The courage of his spirit bore witness to me of his faith. He received a call.
After two years of outstanding missionary activity, his president wrote, upon the occasion of his honorable release:
“The bearer of this letter has served in this mission for two years. He has been one of the finest missionaries in our mission over the whole time that he has been here. He has been effective as a leader, as a proselyting missionary, as the liaison between the mission office and the several stakes in which he has served, and in all respects his performance has been without flaw.
“He has handled his personal problem, his severe scarring, in a way that has discouraged or affronted no one. It has been on a basis that ‘this is my problem; don’t worry about it.’
“We love him dearly. We are grateful for his service; and if you have any more just like him, send them along.”

Material blessings are a part of the gospel if they are achieved in the proper way and for the right purpose. I am reminded of an experience of President Hugh B. Brown. As a young soldier in World War I, he was visiting an elderly friend in the hospital. This friend was a millionaire several times over who, at the age of eighty, was lying at death’s door. Neither his divorced wife nor any of his five children cared enough to come to the hospital to see him. As President Brown thought of the things his friend “had lost which money could not buy and noted his tragic situation and the depth of his misery,” he asked his friend how he would change the course of his life if he had it to live over again.
The old gentleman, who died a few days later, said: “‘As I think back over life the most important and valuable asset which I might have had but which I lost in the process of accumulating my millions, was the simple faith my mother had in God and in the immortality of the soul.
“‘… You asked me what is the most valuable thing in life. I cannot answer you in better words than those used by the poet.’” He asked President Brown to get a little book out of his briefcase from which he read a poem entitled “I’m an Alien.”
I’m an alien, to the faith my mother taught me.
I’m a stranger to the God that heard my mother when she cried.
I’m an alien to the comfort that, “Now I lay me,” brought me.
To the everlasting arms that held my father when he died.
When the great world came and called me, I deserted all to follow.
Never noting in my blindness I had slipped my hand from His.
Never dreaming in my dazedness that the bubble fame is hollow.
That the wealth of gold is tinsel, as I since have learned it is.
I have spent a lifetime seeking things I spurned when I found them,
I have fought and been rewarded in many a winning cause,
But I’d give it all, fame and fortune and the pleasures that surround them,
If I only had the faith that made my mother what she was.
“That was the dying testimony of a man who was born in the Church but had drifted far from it. That was the brokenhearted cry of a lonely man who could have anything money could buy, but who had lost the most important things of life in order to accumulate this world’s goods” (Continuing the Quest, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1961, pp. 32–35; italics added).

In the Bamburi Branch of the Kenya Nairobi Mission, Relief Society sisters donated the money they would have spent on an activity and instead purchased kitchen utensils and other items the branch needed. After thoroughly cleaning the local meetinghouse, the sisters of the ward assembled for a time of reflection on the creation of Relief Society in 1842, using and discussing resources from Daughters in My Kingdom: The History and Work of Relief Society.
“The thought of being part of this worldwide organization of Relief Society is special,” said Irene Kioi, second counselor in the Relief Society presidency. “It gives me the assurance that [Relief Society] is ordained of God and not men.”

My friend Jorge reached across the table, offering me a sip from his glass of champagne. I was surprised by his offer. He knew I was a Latter-day Saint and drinking alcohol was against my beliefs. I politely shook my head, indicating that this time, like all previous times, I would pass.
He brought his hand to his forehead and exclaimed, “¡Pero es nuestra graduación!” (But it’s graduation night!)
Yes, it was graduation night. And in Ecuador, this was our night to celebrate. The evening had begun with a formal dinner for our entire families. A bottle of champagne had been placed in the center of each table, and well-mannered waiters had served an excellent meal. After dinner, those of us who had just graduated danced a waltz with our father or mother.
Eventually all the parents left, and only the graduates and our friends remained. It was around midnight when Jorge approached me and offered me some of his drink. Jorge felt that just this once wouldn’t do me any harm, especially considering the event was a once-in-a-lifetime occasion and everyone was expected to have a drink.
I simply replied, “I know it’s graduation night. That doesn’t matter.”
All through high school, I had been invited to drink and smoke, but I had always refused, explaining that my religion taught me drinking and smoking were harmful. My friends usually did not persist after the explanation, but I never knew how they really felt about my turning them down.
To my surprise, Jorge smiled, extended his right hand, and shook mine. All he said was “I really admire this about you,” and he walked away.
Later, while reflecting on what happened that night, I remembered the counsel President Gordon B. Hinckley has given us to “stand for something” (see “True to the Faith,” Ensign, June 1996, 4). To Jorge and my other friends, I had stood for something. I realized that often we may think our efforts to do the right thing make us unpopular. While that may be true in some instances, for the most part, people take note and see Latter-day Saints as people who stand for something worthy of admiration.

I spent most of my twenties measuring progress in a very specific way. I had certain milestones and life events planned out that I was relying on to show me I was accomplishing everything I wanted to in life.
Well, I just turned 30 this year, and a lot of those milestones haven’t happened yet, especially with my career. And because of that, I struggle with feeling like I’m falling behind—behind my peers, behind where everyone expected me to be, and most painfully, behind where I expected myself to be.
I’ve known I wanted to be a doctor since I was a teenager, and it’s something I’ve been working toward for years. If I went back and told my teenage self how far behind my plan I am, he would probably be horrified.
But here’s the good news: My 30-year-old self has a far better perspective on life.
When I was 18, things were going great. I moved to a different country to start university and was successfully navigating life in a new place, I started the major that the other premedical students around me were doing, and I kept my grades up.
Things continued to go well as I paused my studies to serve a mission, came home, and got married a few years later.
But this was the point when things started to get a little more complicated.
First, I took a gap year because my wife was a few years younger than me and needed to finish her education. The next year, I applied and was accepted to a school in my home country—but turned down the offer because of COVID-19 border closures and my wife’s unexpected career opportunity. The next year I applied again, this time in the country I was currently living in, but had little success because I wasn’t a permanent resident in that country.
By the time I hit my 27th birthday, I was completely discouraged. I was supposed to be halfway through medical school by now! The friends I had gone to school and graduated with were moving on with their lives, while I was stuck in what felt like a never-ending cycle of applications and rejections.
From my point of view, I was stuck and not making any progress. The lack of hitting the milestones I’d outlined as a teenager made me feel pretty despondent and disappointed in myself.
But here’s the thing—there are so many different ways to make and measure progress. And in hindsight, I’ve realized I was growing and learning all along.
That first gap year? That was a chance for me to show my wife that her education was important to me and to keep gaining experience that would help me be a better doctor.
That second year, when I turned down an offer? That was an opportunity for us to pray and counsel together about how to balance competing priorities and build the life we wanted.
And that final year, when I felt helpless about things that were out of my control? That let me seek personal revelation and receive the confirmation I needed from Heavenly Father that I was on the right path, even when I was discouraged and couldn’t see what the future held.
I don’t want to pretend like those years of waiting were easy. While I was living them, I often felt frustrated, stagnant, and discouraged. But guess what? The future ended up being better than I could have imagined. I’m in my second year of medical school, while my wife works her dream job and can support us financially. After the years of prioritizing her work and education, she’s ready to support me in mine, and we have the kind of relationship that can stay strong through the grueling days of medical training.
I still look forward to the day when I can call myself a doctor. But as President Russell M. Nelson, a doctor himself, once taught, there are identities that are more important than that one.
And remembering my identities as a child of God, a child of the covenant, and a disciple of Christ helps me in times when I want to label myself as “falling behind,” which is something I think many of us are inclined to do during young adulthood.
Maybe you’re like me and have labeled yourself a failure because of career detours. Or maybe your career is going fine but you deal with the label of “single,” “struggling with a mental illness,” or something else entirely.
Whatever your situation, know that there are so many ways to grow and learn and progress. Don’t measure yourself by someone else’s life or expectations—or even your past self’s expectations.
Instead, remember what matters most: “Our relationships with Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, our families, and our neighbors, and allowing the Spirit of the Lord to guide us in those relationships.”
I may not be a doctor yet, but I am a son of God. I’m a covenant keeper. I’m someone who tries hard to be a good husband.
And that’s always mattered more than arbitrary timelines.

“Because Daniel would not stop praying, he was cast into a den of lions, Daniel was righteous. …”
Danny Miller sat in his Primary class and listened to Sister Jensen tell the story of Daniel and the lions’ den. She finished by telling the children that she knew that the next time they faced a lions’ den, they could be as brave and courageous as Daniel. Danny thought that was funny. He had only seen lions at the zoo. And he had never heard of anyone being put into a lions’ den these days. He left the classroom and promptly forgot all about Daniel in the den of lions.
Then Monday morning at family scripture study, Danny’s dad read about Daniel too. His mother said, “The next time you have to make a hard choice, remember to be just as courageous as Daniel.”
But nobody gets thrown to the lions anymore, Danny thought as he headed to his room to get ready for school. “I don’t understand what all these scriptures have to do with me, anyhow,” he said to his cat, Tuffy, as he passed him on the stairs. “It’s just a lot of ancient history stuff, and I can’t understand it.”
Besides, Danny had more important things to worry about. He wolfed down his breakfast and took off for school. His mother couldn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, but he knew that if he went to school early enough, he might get there before Jason. Jason was a bully. Last week he had sat on Tommy Deacon until Tommy’s face turned blue. Jason had wanted the cupcake from Tommy’s lunch. Poor Tommy was ready to give it to him, but he couldn’t talk. That’s when Danny got into trouble with Jason.
He had picked up what was left of Tommy’s lunch—it looked like a steam-roller had passed over it—and tapped Jason on the shoulder. As Jason swung around, Tommy got away.
“Hey, squirt, what do you want?”
“Here’s Tommy’s cupcake,” Danny mumbled as he handed Jason the flattened lunch.
But instead of taking the lunch, Jason grabbed Danny by the hair. “I hear you’re pretty smart. Tell you what, I’m gonna cut you a break.” Jason told Danny that he had to help him pass all their tests, or else. Danny could imagine pretty well what “else” meant.
For the next week, he gave Jason the answers he wanted. Danny felt awful about it. He knew it was wrong, but he was afraid of Jason.
That morning as class began, Jason, who sat next to Danny, smiled and said, “So, are we ready for the math quiz?”
“What if I won’t give you the answers?” Danny whispered.
“Then I’ll tell the class that you’ve been cheating. Remember, all our tests from last week have the same answers on them.”
Danny was really scared.
Then, for some reason, he began to think of his Primary class. He remembered Sister Jensen’s telling them about Daniel. Danny thought sadly, That’s my name, too, but I’m not at all like Daniel in the Bible.
Suddenly he thought that Jason looked just like the wicked men in the Bible picture book who told Daniel not to pray. He looked at his teacher and his classmates and imagined how shocked they would be if Jason told on him. He felt as if he really were a prisoner in a den, and his classmates and his teacher were the lions.
Then, gently, a voice seemed to speak in his mind: Danny, do the right thing. Don’t let Jason see your paper anymore. It will be all right.
Danny remembered how the Lord had shut the lions’ mouths when Daniel was lowered into the den. No harm had come to him when he had done the right thing. Danny looked again at his teacher. One thing she absolutely did not tolerate was cheating. He looked at his classmates. He again imagined the boys’ laughter and the girls’ scorn if they found out. Suddenly the scriptures seemed very real. Here he was, Danny Miller, facing his own lions’ den. He remembered Sister Jensen saying: “Children, I hope that the next time you face a den of lions, you will, with Heavenly Father’s help, be just as brave as Daniel was.”
Mrs. Grant began giving the quiz. “Problem number one …”
Danny said a little prayer in his heart, then placed his hand over his page as he began to write. He glanced at Jason, who was scowling at him. Under his breath, Jason hissed, “Show me the answer, or I’ll tell!”
“Problem number two …”
Danny kept his paper covered. Jason raised his hand. Danny’s heart was pounding as Jason told Mrs. Grant in front of the entire class that Danny was a cheat and that he could prove it.
Mrs. Grant, in her sternest voice, said, “Jason and Daniel, I will see you after the quiz in my office.”
Danny peeked at the other lions in his den. The boys were not laughing; the girls did not look scornful. They finished the quiz, then Jason and Danny went to Mrs. Grant’s office.
Miraculously as Mrs. Grant began to speak, her voice softened, “Daniel, what is your side of the story?”
Danny told her everything and finished with, “I’m sorry.” Then he just looked at his feet. To his amazement she said how proud she was of him for having the courage to do the right thing. Danny had never felt so good in his whole life, even though he realized that Jason would probably get back at him somehow. But Jason could never make Danny do something wrong again.
On the way home from school, Danny thought about Daniel. At that moment he seemed very real to Danny, almost like a best friend!

Pat met Jeffrey Holland between her junior and senior year at high school. With a twinkle in her eye, she expressed much more of that sweet relationship than was spoken. “And that continues to be the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she said enthusiastically. “He continually amazes me, and it’s a wonderful privilege and blessing to be his wife.” Feeling the joy and happiness that she was expressing made it difficult to realize that she had ever had youthful feelings of discouragement or fear.
Speaking of their early friendship, she recalled that when he left for his mission, they so wanted to have a “forever kind of love.” Together they decided that they would do three things that would unite them even in his absence: (1) Read the scriptures every day. (2) Fast once a week. (3) Pray really often. “These have become habits that we have continued to this day,” she said humbly and gratefully, thinking of the far-reaching rewards of that early decision that kept them close while they were far away.

Over the years I had become comfortable with the idea that the Lord had given me my quota of trials; I thought my life would be spent caring for my children with their special needs. I did not resent this idea and even felt great peace and joy as I looked to my future. We had accepted the challenges and disabilities of both our sons, along with raising our two beautiful daughters. We even felt the strong desire to add to our family by adopting three more children with special needs. Each time we entered the adoption process, we experienced miracles as we were guided through each step of the way. There have been tremendous challenges but also tremendous blessings.

It was early when Tayson rolled out of bed and put on old work clothes. He and Dad hurried and ate breakfast, then pulled on boots and work gloves.
“Grab those shovels and put them in the car,” Dad told Tayson. “We’re going to need them.”
Last night Dad got a call from Brother Merkley in the ward. Some of the houses nearby had filled with mud from a big storm. The owners needed lots of help cleaning out their muddy basements.
“Can I go?” Tayson had asked.
“Sure,” Dad said. “It’s going to be hard work, but I think you can do it.”
Tayson grinned. He was excited to help Dad out.
When they got to the house, they saw other people from their stake. The stake president patted Tayson’s shoulder and said he was glad Tayson was there.
Tayson was glad too—until he looked down the basement stairs. Squishy, wet mud piled halfway up the stairway! How would they ever get down there? Dad grabbed his shovel and plunged right into the mud. Tayson followed. He tried to step in Dad’s footprints, but the mud sucked the prints away before he could step into them.
“Can you start shoveling?” Brother Merkley asked Tayson’s dad. “And Tayson, maybe you can join the bucket brigade with me.”
Tayson followed Brother Merkley to the far end of the basement. Tayson got in line and passed a bucket full of mud to the person next to him. The last person in line lifted the bucket through the open window to someone outside. Then another bucket came down the line.
Tayson had never seen so many buckets in his whole life. And every one of them was full of mud. The line of buckets never seemed to end! Soon Tayson’s shoulders and arms got tired.
After working for several hours, everyone took a break. Tayson stretched his aching shoulders.
“I think we’ve got it under control here,” Brother Merkley said. “But if anyone can stay longer, it would be great to help other neighbors.”
Tayson rubbed his arms. He wondered if he could ever lift another bucket. But still he climbed up the stairs and followed Dad across the muddy grass to a neighbor’s house. Once again Tayson passed dozens of heavy buckets filled with mud down the line and out the basement window. His arms and back felt sore and limp as spaghetti. But he didn’t quit.
When the basement was cleared of mud, the man who lived in the house shook everyone’s hands. “I can’t believe you folks turned out to help people you don’t even know. I can’t thank you enough.”
Tayson and Dad returned home covered in mud. Tayson felt like every muscle in his body was sore and tired. Even his eyelids!
“I’ve never been so dirty,” Tayson said. “Not even when we went camping last summer. Do you think Mom will let us into the house?”
Dad looked down at his muddy shoes and burst out laughing. “I hope so. I don’t think we can go to church tomorrow looking like this!”
Go to Family Night Fun for an activity to go with this story. And go to page 37 for an activity all about dads!
“I hurt all over, but I feel good at the same time,” Tayson said.
“That’s the good feeling that comes from helping someone else,” Dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
Tayson was wet and cold from the hard, damp work, but Dad’s words warmed him all the way down to his toes.

1970: President Smith designates Monday as the day for family home evening.

It gives me a good feeling to work on family history. I’m learning the names of lots of my ancestors and learning to upload their photos too. Someday when I meet them in heaven, I’ll already know them.
Aidan A., age 10, Utah, USA

The prophet who sits with us today could tell us of such togetherness, when at the time of his overwhelming apostolic calling he was consoled by his Camilla, who met his anguished, sobbing sense of inadequacy and, running her fingers through his hair, said, “You can do it, you can do it.” He surely has done it, but with her at his side.

Service is the gospel of Jesus Christ in action, and it’s evident in a story I love about Brigham Young. Upon learning that hundreds of handcart pioneers were stranded on the plains in unbearable conditions, he taught with power in this simple sermon at the October 1856 general conference: “I will now give this people the subject and the text for the Elders who may speak, … it is this, … many of our brethren and sisters are on the plains with hand-carts, and probably many are now 700 miles from this place, and they must be brought here, we must send assistance to them. The text will be, ‘to get them here.’ …

“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess, it is to save the people. …

“I shall call upon the Bishops this day, I shall not wait until to-morrow, nor until next day, for 60 good mule teams and 12 or 15 wagons. I do not want to send oxen, I want good horses and mules. They are in this Territory, and we must have them; also 12 tons of flour and 40 good teamsters, besides those that drive the teams. …

“I will tell you all that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the celestial kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”2
“Save the people”—that is the command.

One busy Sunday with the meetinghouse hallway crowded with people, a bishop noticed a little boy sitting on the floor crying. Disregarding his busy schedule, the bishop immediately focused his attention on the weeping child. He sat right down on the floor and held the little boy close until the crying subsided and the boy was able to explain what was wrong. Then, comforted, the child went off down the hall holding the hand of his earthly ministering angel.
I sense that the Savior would have done that too.

A few weeks ago, just before 6:00 a.m., my wife and I boarded a taxi to begin the last lap of our trip to Salt Lake City from Australia. Our driver, who had been on duty since 3:00 a.m., was anxious to talk with us, his first passengers of the day. We learned his parents were born just outside of Mexico City. They moved to Chicago, where he was born, and then moved to New Mexico. Twenty years earlier our friend had come for a short visit to San Francisco and had never left. During our trip to the airport, this man related a few incidents from which some great truths were reemphasized.
One other important point was made by this unusual taxi operator. He told us that some of his unmarried friends who are also taxi drivers are often out of money. They come to him to borrow. He indicated that he is generally able to help them over tight money spots. When his companions asked how he is able to support his family on his salary when they can’t even keep themselves, he said, “I tell them I don’t waste money at the races or on liquor or tobacco. My wife fixes our meals at home, and we don’t have to pay for expensive restaurant food.” He smiled when he added, “We do our partying with our family.” This man’s objectives are family-oriented, and he has learned the folly of serving the gambling, drinking, and momentary expensive habits.

Play with Me A child goes to the meadow to play with the animals, but they run from her. Then, when she sits quietly, they all come back.Marie Hall Ets3–7 years

I learned an important lesson about Heavenly Father and prayer when I was nine years old. I loved horses. Sometimes my friends let me ride their horses, and together we’d ride bareback through the orange groves. But I longed for a horse of my own.
That year, a new store opened in a neighboring town. As part of the opening festivities, they had a drawing for a pony. I entered the drawing, and each day I prayed that I would win. Heavenly Father had always answered my prayers, and I was sure that he would answer this one. I made arrangements for the pony to live in a friend’s corral. I even wrote to my grandparents and told them about the pony that would soon be mine.
When the drawing was held and the winner announced, it wasn’t me. I was very disappointed and sad. Lovingly my mother said, “It isn’t that Heavenly Father didn’t hear and answer your prayers. Remember, dear, when you pray, Heavenly Father will answer your prayer in a way that will be best for you.” Heavenly Father does know what is best for us. He loves each of us, and he hears and answers our prayers.

When a man asked Chloe if she was a “Mormon missionary,” she powerfully testified, “No, I am a missionary for Jesus Christ.” Chloe told me the man expressed desires to follow the Savior, so she taught him that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is led by the Savior. Then she gave him information about His Church.

I am one of 13 children in a Latter-day Saint family that has experienced similar problems. We joined the Church 14 years ago, and over the years some of my brothers and sisters have become less active. Many have shown little or no respect for our parents.
My family underwent a great transformation when my youngest sister died following an accident. We realized then that for us to be together again as an eternal family, we needed to change our lives. Five of my less-active brothers and sisters began to attend church again, our attitude toward each other and toward our parents improved considerably, and quarreling diminished. We attended a temple preparation class taught by my brother-in-law, and five months after my sister’s accident, we were sealed together as a family for time and eternity.
Éder José Lagemann,Parque Ouro Fino Ward, Sorocaba Brazil Trujillo Stake