Gospel Story Finder

In my youth, I experienced the joy of coming closer to the Savior—and of His coming closer to me—through simple acts of obedience to the commandments. When I was young, the sacrament was offered during an evening meeting. I can still remember one specific night, more than 75 years ago, when it was dark and cold outside. I remember a feeling of light and warmth as I realized that I had kept the commandment to gather with the Saints to partake of the sacrament, covenanting with our Heavenly Father to always remember His Son and keep His commandments.
At the end of the meeting that night, we sang the hymn “Abide with Me; ’Tis Eventide,” with the memorable words “O Savior, stay this night with me.”
These words brought an overwhelming sense of the Spirit to me, even as a young boy. I felt the Savior’s love and closeness that evening through the comfort of the Holy Ghost.

I think I initially questioned what I believed because I wasn’t confident that my testimony was strong enough to go on a mission. I remember around the time I graduated high school thinking something like, What if my testimony isn’t fully mine? What if I’ve been relying too much on the testimonies of other people?

That bothered me. I wanted to go on a mission, but I wondered if the spiritual experiences I had had up to that point were enough to make me what I thought a successful missionary was supposed to be—someone who had enough spiritual strength and knew enough about the gospel to teach other people.

Looking back, I should have asked God to help me understand the counsel given in Doctrine and Covenants 124:97: “Let him be humble before me, … and he shall receive of my Spirit, even the Comforter, which shall manifest unto him the truth of all things, and shall give him, in the very hour, what he shall say.”

But rather than asking God, I got lost in comparing my spiritual stature to others’, and I was afraid that my inadequacies would keep people from accepting the gospel.

Out on my own as a young adult, I continued trying to figure out what I believed. I didn’t see the harm of what I saw as isolated decisions that didn’t redefine who I was as a person. I began to pull away from those that I loved because I knew they would be disappointed in the choices I was making. Instead, I surrounded myself with people who didn’t really care what I was doing. One day I tried an alcoholic drink out of curiosity. Drinking became a part of my life and eventually went from just recreation to something I used as a crutch to cope with difficult experiences. The negative changes in my life during that time weren’t necessarily tied to any one choice; they were gradual. It took me two years to realize that the small choices I made over time had led me to a place I didn’t want to be.

Now, I’m not saying that in order to learn the truthfulness of the gospel, you should experience the opposite. My actions caused pain not just for me but also for people I loved—much of it unnecessary. I’m grateful that I was able to humble myself enough to realize that (1) I was miserable, and (2) I had been happiest when I was living God’s commandments. That was something I knew for myself, something I could stand behind and share with others.

Elizabeth headed the ball and skillfully let it drop near her feet. As she tried to pass off to her teammate, Central’s right-winger lost her balance and careened into Elizabeth, sending them both sprawling. For a moment Elizabeth couldn’t breathe. She tried to stand, but her legs buckled. There was only one person on the bench to replace her. Oh, no, she thought, not Kristen! She’s not ready yet. But Coach Fulton was already sending her in.
It didn’t take Central long to discover that they were dealing with a beginner. When the pass came, Kristen dribbled downfield. Central moved in and pressured her. She tensed, lost her concentration, and tripped over the ball. Central gained control and quickly scored the winning goal.
As the field cleared, Kristen slowly walked away, pulling a wad of crumpled paper from her pocket.
Elizabeth hadn’t known Kristen long. She wasn’t an easy person to get to know, but she seemed to need a friend. Elizabeth knew she was discouraged—maybe discouraged enough to quit. Even the practice sessions were tough for her. Perhaps that was because she didn’t have any friends to buddy practice with.
“Kristen, wait up,” Elizabeth called.
Kristen looked up, surprised. “Sorry about the game,” she said quietly, shoving the wad of paper into her pocket. “I guess I just wasn’t cut out for soccer. The team would be better off without me. I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She put her arm gently around Kristen’s shoulder, and they walked away together. It isn’t just soccer, Elizabeth thought. At school Kristen had a difficult time following directions. She couldn’t remember what their teacher, Mr. Kelly, told her to do. She often wrote numbers and letters backward. And she just couldn’t seem to pay attention, even though she tried very hard.
“A learning disability” was what Kristen’s special teacher, Mrs. O’Brien, called it. For some reason, Kristen’s brain wasn’t able to process information normally. The right messages didn’t always get through, just as a phone call doesn’t go through when the wires are jammed or broken. Because of her difficulties, Kristen spent a part of each school day with Mrs. O’Brien, who helped Kristen and other children like her.
Elizabeth had never met anyone like Kristen before. The more time she spent with her, the more she noticed all those wads of paper that Kristen always had in her pockets. She wanted to ask her about the paper, but the two of them were just becoming friends, and Elizabeth didn’t want to spoil it. Perhaps Mrs. O’Brien, who knew Kristen well, could help her understand Kristen better.
“Kristen is a very bright girl, as are many learning disabled children,” Mrs. O’Brien explained when Elizabeth stopped by the next day after school. “She’s making progress, but slowly. Unfortunately, she’s been hurt too often by thoughtless teasing. Many children just don’t understand. They never take the time to get to know her. That’s why she’s so shy about making friends.”
“Do you know why she always carries those little wads of crumpled paper?” asked Elizabeth.
“That’s something Kristen will have to tell you herself.”
I’ll ask her at soccer practice, Elizabeth decided as she hurried to the soccer field.
“Kristen,” she began slowly when practice was over, “I’ve been wondering why your pockets are always full of crumpled paper.”
“It’s nothing much, just doodles,” said Kristen.
“Really? May I see them?”
Reluctantly Kristen reached into her pocket and retrieved a wad of paper.
Elizabeth put it on her knee and smoothed it out carefully. “Kristen, this is me!” she said in surprise. “You’ve drawn a sketch of me!”
“Sometimes—especially when I’m feeling discouraged—I doodle. It helps me feel better,” Kristen explained nervously.
“This is terrific, Kristen! Do you have any more?”
Kristen emptied the contents of her pockets and handed them to Elizabeth. “I have lots more at home,” she added, feeling more confident.
There was a sketch of Kristen’s puppy chewing an old sneaker, a drawing of their teammates playing soccer, and a picture of E. T. Elizabeth was astonished. They were really good! “Has anyone else ever seen these?” she asked.
Kristen shook her head.
“Well, they should!” A smile spread across Elizabeth’s face. She knew what to do to help the other kids at school to look beyond Kristen’s difficulties and get to know her better. “I have an idea,” Elizabeth said. “Come with me.”
First they went to see Mr. Kelly, then they hurried to Kristen’s house, where they gathered all of her drawings and mounted them on construction paper.
When their classmates arrived at school the next morning, they found the walls of their room covered with Kristen’s artwork. “Hey, that’s me!” several of them shouted.
“Who drew these?” others asked.
“They’re terrific!” they all agreed as they milled around, trying to see all the pictures.
After they had settled down, Mr. Kelly announced, “The artist is someone you all know. It’s—”
“It’s Kristen!” Elizabeth blurted out before Mr. Kelly could finish. She began to applaud enthusiastically. And the whole room clapped with her.

Illustrations by Maryn Roos
I’ve got your science test scores here. Our new student, Mandy, is the only one who scored 100 percent.
If you want to make a friend, be one.
Hi. Your name’s Audrey, isn’t it? Is something wrong?
I flunked the test. And my dad says if I don’t get my grades up, I can’t have tennis lessons.
Ouch! That’s rough. Umm, listen … would you like to study together sometime? Maybe I could help.
You’d do that for me?
Sure. Why not?
Maybe you can teach me to play tennis. It looks fun.
Yeah, I think you’d really like it.

After Paul got ready for bed, he sat on Mommy’s lap in the rocking chair in his room. Mommy held Paul close as she told him the news. “The doctor says you need to have another surgery on your ears,” she said. “He thinks your ears will be all better after that.”
Paul fiddled with the buttons on his pajamas. He had had surgery before. The medicine made him feel sick, and he had to wear a big, white bandage around his ears until they healed. With his head bandaged, he couldn’t ride his bike or play on the swings. Paul started to worry, but then he had an idea.
“Mommy, can we ask Heavenly Father to bless me?” Paul asked.
“That’s a good idea,” Mommy said.
They knelt on the floor and Mommy prayed, “Heavenly Father, please bless Paul that he will be comforted during his surgery. Please guide the doctor’s hands so he can help heal Paul. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
A warm, peaceful feeling filled Paul up inside. He was still a little nervous, but he knew that he would be safe.
A few days later, Paul went to the hospital for his surgery. He put on a hospital gown and talked to the doctor. Paul liked the way the doctor told him what was going to happen so he wouldn’t be as scared. He liked to think of Heavenly Father guiding the doctor’s hands to make his ears better. Paul and Mommy said another prayer, and Paul felt the same warm feeling inside. Mommy still looked a little worried.
“It’s OK,” Paul told her. He gave Mommy a hug. “Remember, we said a prayer.”
Mommy smiled at Paul. “You are right. Heavenly Father will bless you.”
When Paul woke up from his surgery, Mommy was sitting beside his bed.
“Hello, Mommy,” he said sleepily.
Mommy smiled. “Hello, Paul! How do you feel?”
“Pretty good,” Paul said. “Are my ears OK?”
“Yes,” Mommy said. “Our prayers were answered. The doctor said that everything went well, and your ears will get better.”
Paul smiled. “I knew it, Mommy,” he said. “Heavenly Father answered our prayers.”

In 1982, six years after receiving my patriarchal blessing, our son Christian was born. He was premature and delivered through cesarean section. He weighed only 800 grammes, and the doctors gave us very little hope. To their astonishment, Christian made great progress after receiving a priesthood blessing by my husband.
On the third day after his birth, I was to visit him. How I longed to see my son! I woke up at 2:30 A.M. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pleaded with the Lord, “Heavenly Father, please don’t let him die! I want to keep him so much,” adding, “But if that is not according to Thy will, Father, I accept that.”
Later that same morning, my husband came and told me that our son had died at 2:45 A.M. It was a grievous loss, and we wept and prayed together. In answer to our prayers, we felt surrounded by a warmth and peace.

Before I left to run some errands one evening, I asked my children to do their homework and told them I would correct it when I returned home. Upon my return, I was surprised to find my seven-year-old son, Mayco, riding his bike with a friend. I asked him if he had done what he was supposed to do, and he answered with a resounding yes. I then asked if he was telling the truth, and he said, “Mama, I can’t lie to you.”
This caught his friend’s attention, and he asked Mayco why he couldn’t lie. Mayco replied with total certainty, “How could I lie when I’m a Mormon?”
I went into the house to look over his homework, and not only was it done, but there were no mistakes. I am grateful for the gospel principles that my son is learning and for his example of becoming more like Jesus.

When Jesse Gneiting’s older brother James received the Eagle award in Scouting, Jess promised himself that someday he, too, would become an Eagle Scout. He earned the Star award at the age of 13 (right on schedule) and began his Eagle Scout service project—earning money to purchase an American flag for his hometown community of Lewisville, Idaho. The fund-raising part of the project consisted of collecting aluminum cans around Lewisville and out on the desert where his family farmed. Jess’s plans were continuing well and his advancement to Eagle seemed only months away. But then an unexpected obstacle appeared.
After returning from a leadership training program for Scouts of the Teton Peaks Council, Jess noticed a lump on his leg just below the knee. A preliminary examination didn’t show anything wrong, but when the lump didn’t recede and it became painful for Jess to walk, his parents took him back to the doctor.
“I may have rheumatic fever,” Jess told his mother as he left the doctor’s office. “I’m to go to the hospital tomorrow for tests.”
Soon after, Sister Gneiting took Jess to the Idaho Falls hospital were X-rays were taken and he was told he had cancer. He and his parents were advised to leave immediately for the University Hospital in Salt Lake City. Tests there revealed that surgery was necessary, and during the operation, Jess’s leg was amputated above the knee.
Five days after the operation he came home and began chemotherapy and other treatments. At times the medication made him so sick he wouldn’t recover for a week. Afterwards, however, he would return to school where he was student-body vice-president and editor of the yearbook. He also began wrestling, the only sport in which he could participate.
By Christmas, the treatments had drained Jess’s body of all energy. But he began to feel better after chemotherapy had ended, and he earned the Life Scout award.
The National Boy Scout Jamboree in Pennsylvania was held the following spring, and Jess was able to attend, even though his monthly checkup in April revealed lung cancer. Upon his return, it was discovered the tumors in his lungs had doubled in size and another operation was imperative. Afterwards, Jess’s activities were severely curtailed and he was able to complete only two six-week terms the entire school year. Though he longed to return to school and participate in the activities, he was unable to do so.
Yet more than anything, Jess wanted to become an Eagle Scout, and during this time he began in earnest to accomplish that goal. To fill his days and keep his mind occupied, he worked on merit badges. His mother helped him by calling or taking papers to members of the Scout committee. His younger brother, Tom, and members of his troop, finished gathering the aluminum cans needed to complete his Eagle project.
Finally all of Jess’s application forms were in and approval was up to the board of review. On the second Sunday in May they came to the Gneiting home and interviewed Jess. His papers were sent immediately to the National Council in the East where approval generally takes from two weeks to a month. But Jess didn’t have that much time—each day he was getting weaker, and breathing had become so labored that he couldn’t live without an oxygen supply. The Scout office in Idaho Falls called headquarters to push Jess’s papers through, and as soon as they received approval, the court of honor was scheduled.
In May Jess received the Eagle award. Almost everyone in Lewisville attended the ceremony, including every Scout leader in the district. Jess’s brother James made the presentation. Jess himself presented the flag to Bishop R. LaVon Walker of the Lewisville First Ward, Rigby Idaho Stake, to be used by the small community.
On June 15, the Gneiting family went fishing at a nearby lake. That evening, for the first time since he had become ill, Jess let his father carry him into the house, and before he went to sleep, Jess told his parents, “I won’t make it through tomorrow.” At one the next afternoon, he died.
But nothing, not even cancer, had kept him from accomplishing his life’s goal—to become an Eagle Scout—a privilege he enjoyed for almost three weeks. (Written by Joyce Lindstrom)

Spencer D. of Alabama, USA, decided to give up some social events so he could get the most from seminary. For his first two years of seminary, he woke up at 4:00 a.m. to attend, and the last two years he woke up at 5:00 a.m. He says, “I couldn’t participate in a lot of late-evening activities with my friends because I would need to be in bed early. If I didn’t, I would not be able to fully participate and learn the next morning.” For Spencer, it wasn’t just about showing up to class, it was also about being awake and prepared to learn.

I travel around the Church a little, and I am often in a meeting somewhere other than my regular home ward. I notice as I go around that not all the teachers are using the new edition of the Bible. I had an interesting opportunity and experience recently. I was sitting in a class, and the teacher, knowing that I had had something to do with the preparation of the new LDS publication of the Bible, began to apologize to me that he wasn’t using the new Bible in teaching his priesthood class. I felt that he didn’t need to apologize to me, but he did so anyway. After the class was over he came to me and said, “I know we ought to be using the new edition of the Bible, but I’m used to these books because these are the ones I marked when I was in the mission field twenty years ago. I am familiar with these, and I have my notes and cross references and so on.” That seemed like a pretty good reason, but we walked together to the parking lot and he got in a new car and drove away. I thought, “He hasn’t kept up in the gospel and in his scripture study the same way he has in automobiles. He didn’t continue to use the same car he had used in the mission field, which was 20 years ago.”
I believe that’s what President Kimball is getting at when he says, “We have paused on some plateaus long enough.” It is now time to move ahead in some areas which the Church could not do before this time.

Recently I attended a conference of Church humanitarian missionaries in Jordan. As I met with them, I saw two sisters knitting. They told me they were knitting little caps for newborns. In the northern part of the capital city of Amman is a hospital that delivers 50 babies a day. The people there are very poor. After delivery, mothers and babies are sent back to their homes, where there is no heating. Many of these babies suffer from disease and die because of a loss of body heat. I asked for two samples of their knitting.
After I returned home, my wife took the samples to Relief Society. As a result, a miracle began—just as it so often begins in many of our Relief Society meetings around the world. During the Christmas season many sisters from our surrounding wards started to knit and sew baby caps. They did it alone, with friends, at home, or at Church activities.
One day I asked a friend how he was doing. With a twinkle in his eye, he replied, “I am a ‘victim’ of baby caps. We are talking baby caps night and day. We are surrounded by them.” One sister called and asked me, “Isn’t it warm in the Middle East?” When I assured her that the caps were needed, she went to work.
When I returned to Jordan, I had more than 800 baby caps in my suitcases. As we turned them over to the senior consultant of the hospital’s baby station, he thought they were a godsend. Jordan had just experienced the coldest winter in 16 years, with temperatures well below freezing.

It wasn’t long ago that I found myself asking the same question. I wasn’t getting good grades, and I rarely made it to class. High school just wasn’t for me, so I thought.
I soon realized, however, that there weren’t many opportunities for a dropout. The doors were closed, and the key was a diploma. I also knew that one day I wanted a wife and children. Minimum wage was not enough to support a family. It would barely support myself. I knew I had to stick it out.
I know people who did drop out so they could have their freedom. Today, they are still at the same jobs, not making much more than minimum wage. They are just now realizing that even freedom has its price.
David John Romrell, 20Rexburg, Idaho

One of the best ways to make friends is to invite them over, right? That’s what the Montreal Ward of the Montreal Quebec Mount Royal Stake did. Their new chapel created so much interest in the surrounding neighborhood of La Salle that ward leaders decided to open it up for tours.

And when they did, the youth of this ward played a major role. The Latter-day Saint teens served refreshments, directed parking, and greeted guests at the door.

“It was a good experience because it gave other people in the community an opportunity to know more about us—what we believe and what we do,” explains Melissa Poirier, 15. More than 300 non-Latter-day Saints toured the building.

Have you ever wondered how it might feel to go through life deaf, blind, or confined to a wheelchair? The youth of the Pleasant Grove 19th Ward in Utah recently found out when they participated in a “Handicap Awareness Week.”
“I can’t even get through the door into the bathroom!” exclaimed one girl who tried a few turns in a wheelchair. Getting a drink of water from the fountain was also difficult.
The youth listened to speakers and voluntarily took on disabilities of their own while participating in different activities. Experiencing handicaps first-hand helped the youth develop a new-found compassion for their disabled brothers and sisters. But they were also consoled. “We were actually relieved to realize that one can have lots of fun even with a serious disability,” said one participant.

People I’ve counseled who seem to have the first problem—they can’t stop feeling guilty even after repenting from a transgression—usually have another problem: that of very low self-esteem. They feel that there’s nothing they can do to gain control over their lives because they’re such worthless people. For instance, one woman I know made an unsuccessful suicide attempt after months of feeling desperately lonely and isolated from her family. She blamed herself for this isolation (“If I were a better mother, we’d be a closer family”) and after her attempted suicide simply switched the blame to another aspect (“How could I have committed such a terrible sin?”). Even though her husband, her bishop, and her stake president worked with her in a sustained and loving way to assure her of the Lord’s love for her, she refused to stop feeling guilty because she really didn’t believe she was worthy of forgiveness. In a way, feeling guilty was her reason for living because it enabled her to keep on punishing the “worthless” person she had become.
The solution for both the sister and this brother was basically the same. They started making plans and carrying them through. As they saw that they could make decisions, their self-esteem rose, their guilt decreased, and they were able to see their guilt in perspective.

About a year ago, I was in Toronto, Canada, attending a stake conference and while there spoke to the missionaries and suggested that they ask the Golden Questions at every opportunity. Later, the mission president sent me a copy of a letter he had received from one of his lady missionaries. The sister wrote:

When we first arrived in Kirkland Lake, our first assignment, we went to the grocery store; and as the young woman was checking our groceries, I could see her straining to read my name tag. I told her what it was and felt impressed to ask her the Golden Questions. So I said, “What do you know about the Mormons?”
She said, “Not much really.” In reply to the second part, “Would you like to know more about them?” she said “Yes, as a matter of fact, I would.” To make a long story short, she, her husband, her husband’s brother, and his wife were baptized four months later, the delay being due to her husband’s being away for two months.

Six weeks later, another dear sister was baptized as a result of this one Golden Question. Two weeks after that the couple across the street were baptized. Two weeks, still later, the Guild brothers baptized their mother, stepfather, and little sister in Toronto. The mother of Wendy, the girl I met in the grocery store, is now attending all meetings and wants to be taught the discussions. There are also three small children who will now be brought up in the Church, making a total of thirteen now in the Church, and one soon to be baptized, I feel sure, as a result of asking the Golden Questions to this one person.

One evening when I was 11 years old, I heard a commotion outside my window. I looked out the window, and in the street were newsboys carrying stacks of newspapers in their arms announcing the news that President George Albert Smith, the eighth President of the Church, had died. President Smith had been the only prophet I had known in my short time on earth. It was during his administration that I first felt the stirrings of a testimony, and even then I knew how important God’s prophets are. I had been taught in Primary and in my home by loving parents that President Smith was our earthly link to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, that They could talk to me through him. What an empowering concept for a young girl! The Spirit had confirmed in my 11-year-old mind that this was true. When I learned of his death, I felt a tremendous loss.
However, just five days after President Smith’s death, President David O. McKay stood in this tabernacle and spoke to those assembled. He had just been unanimously sustained as the prophet, seer, and revelator by the Saints. As he brushed back the tears, he said: “No one can preside over this Church without first being in tune with the head of the Church, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He is our head. This is his Church. … With his guidance, with his inspiration, we cannot fail.”
I quickly came to love and revere President McKay just as I had loved and revered President Smith. In fact, I remember seeing him stand at this pulpit, with his white hair gleaming, and thinking he looked just like an angel.

All families should regularly hold council meetings to discuss such things as how to adjust the budget to include carpet for the living room, assigning responsibilities for the garden’s care, how to spend the summer vacation—so that together the family can arrive at workable solutions. One father called a special family council the night it was determined that a grandmother’s leg must be amputated. There were many tears, and there were fond recollections of how full of activity her life had been up to then.
Quickly the family decided that grandmother should be invited to live with them. It was then the mother wisely said, “If she comes, let’s make her a queen in our home. We can put her bed right here in the family room so she won’t miss anything.” The compassionate attitude of the mother prevailed in that home. It led the way for all of the family. It blessed the grandmother as long as she lived with them, which she did until she died; it enhanced the lives of all the members of that family; there was greater unity, cooperation, and togetherness than they had known before.

That Kolwezi district conference in 2013 was memorable for all involved. The district president asked the Kinkondja brethren, to share their powerful testimonies in priesthood meeting and in the Sunday session of conference. They had arrived very tired and very early on Saturday morning. By the end of the conference, they—and all who heard their stories and their testimonies—left refreshed, fulfilled, and feeling God’s love in their hearts.

When I was a boy, my mother had to go to work at Garfield Smelter to help support her seven children. She worked the graveyard shift as much as she could, I’m sure, to be with us during the day. I don’t know when the poor woman slept. One Saturday morning, she got off work about 7:00 or 8:00 A.M. She went to bed for a couple of hours and then got up. She had invited all her relatives to dinner. There must have been 35 or 40. She decorated the tables and arranged the chairs and put all the dishes and silverware out. She cooked and baked all day long. The dirty pots and pans and dishes stacked up.
Everyone came to dinner, and after dinner all the dirty dishes were brought into the kitchen. The food was cleared and stacked on the table and cupboards; then the kitchen door was closed, and the family began to visit. It was about 8:00 P.M.
I remember standing all alone in the kitchen. In my young mind, I thought, Mother worked all night; she has worked all day to get this dinner. When everyone leaves, she will have to do the dishes and put the food away. It will take two or three hours, and that’s not fair. Then I thought, I will do them.
I washed the dishes. We didn’t have an electric dishwasher; ours was a manual dishwasher, and that night I was manual. I used a half-dozen dish towels. I was drenched from head to foot. I put the food away, cleaned off the table and drainboards; then I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the floor. It took about three hours.
Then I heard the chairs shuffling, and everyone left. The front door closed, and I heard my mother coming to the kitchen. I was pleased and thought she would be. The door swung open, and even at the age of 11, I recognized that she was startled. She looked around the kitchen, looked at me, and then there was a look I didn’t recognize at the time. I do now. It was something like “Thanks. I am tired. I think you understand, and I love you.” And she came over and hugged me. There was a light in her eye and a warmth in my heart. I learned it is a wonderful feeling to turn on the lights in our parents’ eyes.