Gospel Story Finder

When Max Richard Zapf emigrated from Germany to Brazil in 1913, he had been a member for five years and became the first known Church member in Brazil. After a Brazilian family requested materials from Church headquarters, the mission president of the South American Mission visited Brazil in 1927 and sent missionaries in 1928. The first mission was created in São Paulo in 1935, and by 1939 the Book of Mormon had been published in Portuguese.

One night, Joseph was told that a mob was coming to try to steal the gold plates. He ran to get them from their hiding place in a hollow log.
Are the plates safe, Joseph?
Yes, I have them right here. I was attacked three times as I ran home! I hit each man who tried to tackle me.
Are you all right?
I think my thumb is dislocated.

I want to express my deepest thanks to the whole staff of Tambuli for their untiring efforts in making every issue a special spiritual experience.
The March 1992 issue centering on the roles, achievements, and needs of sisters from around the world has to be one of the best issues. With every turn of a page there is something new to ponder. I feel as though the Holy Ghost is sending messages directly to my heart. What a great impact! It’s as if you knew just what I wanted.
Do continue to publish true-life experiences. Just knowing that there are people who care enough to share their wonderful conversion stories makes me feel loved.
I pray that you will be able to touch more lives for the good.
Karen J. BorjalMarikina Second Ward, Marikina Philippines Stake

We believe in you because we recognize your strength and capacity. As a boy working on a farm, I learned that all kinds of devices can give you power to do things you cannot accomplish with your own strength. In those days we had to move big boulders by hand. We would get a long pole and put the strong end of the pole under the rock we wanted to move. Then, resting the pole on a smaller rock close by the big rock, we would pull down on the small end of the pole, which would cause the big rock to move. The longer the pole, the more leverage and the easier it was to move the big rock.

As an example, Brother Bishop describes the members the Division found to translate materials into two of the languages of Zaire—Lingala and Tshiluba. Church materials are translated into Lingala by Alfonse and Maguy Muanda, in addition to their being actively involved as stake missionaries and operating their own business.
Tshiluba is the native language of Ambrose and Louise Massala, but in their college days they lived in an area of Zaire where Swahili is spoken, and that became their daily language. Shortly after they were married, Ambrose suggested that they go back to speaking to one another in Tshiluba. Louise thought the suggestion strange because by then they had been speaking Swahili for a number of years. However, they began using Tshiluba again, and their children grew up speaking Tshiluba at home. Surprised when they were asked if they would translate material into Tshiluba, Louise said she finally realized why Ambrose was inspired to return to using a language they had almost forgotten.

President Faust recalled a former business partner—a member of another faith—who gave of his means generously to help those in need each Christmas and Thanksgiving. He said that this man searched out the needy and filled their needs, exemplifying pure charity.

Just as God rejoices when we persevere, He is disappointed if we do not recognize that others are trying too. Our dear friend Thoba shared how she learned this lesson from her mother, Julia. Julia and Thoba were among the early black converts in South Africa. After the apartheid regime ended, black and white members of the Church were permitted to attend church together. For many, the equality of interaction between the races was new and challenging. One time, as Julia and Thoba attended church, they felt they were treated less than kindly by some white members. As they left, Thoba complained bitterly to her mother. Julia listened calmly until Thoba had vented her frustration. Then Julia said, “Oh, Thoba, the Church is like a big hospital, and we are all sick in our own way. We come to church to be helped.”

Julia’s comment reflects a valuable insight. We must not only be tolerant while others work on their individual illnesses; we must also be kind, patient, supportive, and understanding. As God encourages us to keep on trying, He expects us to also allow others the space to do the same, at their own pace. The Atonement will come into our lives in even greater measure. We will then recognize that regardless of perceived differences, all of us are in need of the same infinite Atonement.

I labored with the company of pioneers to prepare the way for the Saints through Iowa, after which I had the privilege of returning to Nauvoo for my family, which consisted of my wife and three children. I moved them out into Iowa, 320 kilometers, where I left them, and returned 160 kilometers to settlements, in order to obtain food and other necessaries.
I was taken sick, and sent for my family to return to me. My wife and two children were taken sick the day after their arrival. We found shelter in a miserable hut, but some distance from water.
One day I made an effort to get some water for my suffering family, but failed through weakness. Night came on, and my family were burning with fever and calling for water.
These very trying circumstances called up some bitter feelings within me. It seemed as though in this, my terrible extremity, the Lord permitted the devil to try me, for just then a Methodist class leader came by, and remarked that I was in a very bad situation. He assured me that he had a comfortable house that I could move into, and that he had plenty of everything, and would assist me if I would renounce “Mormonism.” I refused, and he continued on his way.
I afterwards knelt down and asked the Lord to pity us in our miserable condition, and to soften the heart of someone to administer to us in our affliction.
About an hour later a man by the name of William Johnson came with a 12 liter jug full of water, set it down and said: “I came home this evening, weary, having been working with a threshing machine during the day, but when I lay down I could not sleep; something told me that you were suffering because you did not have water. I took the jug, went over to Custer’s well and got this for you. I feel now as though I could go home and sleep. I have plenty of chickens and other things at my house, that are good for sick people. When you need anything I will let you have it.” I knew this was from the Lord in answer to my prayer.
The following day the quails came out of the thickets, and were so easily caught that I picked up what I needed without difficulty. I afterwards learned that the camps of the Saints had been supplied with food in the same way.

Chris sighed. “Do I have to go to school today?”
Mom looked up from tying Alicia’s shoes. “What’s the matter, Chris? You love school.”
“I used to,” Chris said. He took his little sister’s hand and started the walk to school.
“Today we’re going to make applesauce!” Alicia said as they walked down the hill. She loved her first-grade class. She reminded Chris of how he used to feel about school. Before they moved, he ran to school every morning because he was so excited to do math, work in his writing group, and do science experiments with his friends. Sometimes he played four square with Michael and Ryan at recess. Other times he stayed inside with Janet and Caleb so they could help their teacher organize the class’s books.
But now his family had moved to a new state, and even though he still got to learn about math and writing and science, it just wasn’t the same. Chris didn’t have a single friend at school. He walked into his classroom by himself, stared at his desk while his teacher talked, and sat alone at lunch. At recess he wandered around looking for shiny rocks, but he didn’t really want to keep them.
He tried to smile and be a good example for Alicia as he dropped her off at her classroom, but he just didn’t feel very excited about another lonely day.
“How did school go, Chris?” Mom asked when he got home.
“It was OK, I guess. I don’t really have any friends, though.”
“Do you remember what we talked about in family home evening yesterday?” Mom asked.
Chris tried to remember. Alicia had planned a game of musical chairs, Mom had picked out Primary songs to sing, and Chris had helped Mom make the treat. Then he remembered the lesson. “Dad told us about praying for help,” he said.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “I know you’ve been reading your scriptures about how much God loves us. Heavenly Father wants you to be happy, so if you have a problem, you can ask Him for help.”
“Do you think I could pray to Him to help me find friends?”
“Let’s try it,” Mom said.
As Chris said his prayers, he felt like Heavenly Father was right there, listening to him. The next day, as Chris walked to school with Alicia, he still felt a little lonely, so he said a prayer in his mind: “Please help me to find some friends at school today.”
School started just like every other day: he walked into his classroom by himself, stared at his desk while his teacher talked, and sat alone at lunch. But during afternoon recess Carlos from Chris’s class ran up to him. “Hi, Chris! I’m having a birthday party on Friday night.” Carlos handed Chris an orange invitation.
Chris was excited to get home and tell Mom about his new friend. He burst in the front door, but before he could say anything, Mom said, “Chris, I just got a phone call from Jared’s mom in our ward. She invited you to Jared’s birthday party at the zoo on Saturday morning.”
Chris was amazed. He told Mom all about Carlos’s birthday party. When he was finished, Mom handed him a letter. “This came in the mail,” she said.
Chris looked at the blue envelope. He never got any mail except from Grandma. He tore it open and inside was an invitation that read: “Dear Chris, you’re invited to my birthday party on Saturday night.” It was from another classmate.
Chris looked up at Mom. “Three birthday parties in one weekend?”
Mom smiled. “Heavenly Father answered your prayer.”
“That’s right,” Chris said. “I’m going to go thank Him right now.”

More than a year after Nancy and I were baptized, she began dating a young man named Luke. He had a bubbly personality and seemed to radiate love and excitement. At the time Nancy met him, he was looking for direction in his life and was eager to take the missionary discussions when Nancy told him about the gospel. His sister, Leonarda, also was interested in being taught.

Although Luke and Leonarda agreed with most of what was presented, they had trouble accepting that Joseph Smith was a prophet. Once they gained a testimony of Joseph Smith then everything else (the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the gospel, and the gospel principles taught by the prophets) would fall into place.

They came to our home to be taught by the elders. Once again the discussion centered on Joseph Smith. One of the elders suggested that we should each take a turn asking Heavenly Father if Joseph Smith was a prophet and then listen silently for a minute for the answer.

I won’t forget the feeling of peace that came into that room and touched each of our hearts as the Spirit bore witness to each of us that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the Lord. For some of us a testimony was gained that night; for others the truth was reaffirmed. Luke accepted baptism and Leonarda was baptized a few years later with her parents’ approval.

Since that night the Spirit has borne witness to me many times of the truthfulness of other gospel principles. But this experience stands out in my mind because it was one of my first experiences with personal revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves me. I learned that night the truth of the counsel found in Matthew 7:7, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” [Matt. 7:7]

“Here is your class,” Lilly said.
It was Sam’s first day in Primary. Lilly was happy to help her brother.
When Sam cried, Lilly sat by him. She helped him feel better. Sam was scared when they went to class. So Lilly stayed with him.
Lilly helped Sam every Sunday.
“Lilly, you have been a good helper with Sam,” Mom said one Sunday. “Now it’s time for his teacher to help him instead.”
“But if I don’t sit by Sam, he’ll cry,” Lilly said.
“I know,” Mom said. “But his teacher can help. Then you can go to your class too.”
Lilly frowned. She didn’t think this was a good idea.
“Sometimes we need to obey, even when we don’t know why,” said Dad. “When we obey our parents, it helps us learn to obey Heavenly Father.”
“OK,” Lilly said. She hoped Mom’s idea worked.
Lilly sat with her own class in Primary.
Sam cried for a little bit. His teacher helped him. Soon Sam was singing songs with the others. He liked Primary.
Lilly liked sitting with her class too.
After Primary, Dad asked how it went.
“It was great!” Lilly said. “Sam only cried a little. We both had fun with our classes. I showed Sam how to be reverent.”
Now Lilly felt double happy. She was happy she helped Sam. And she was happy she obeyed.

Matt is busy making posters for Mandy’s student council campaign when …
Hey, Matt, we just got an email for you from your cousin Max in Australia.
Oh, lemme see!
“… and I like soccer, but cricket is my favorite.”
Matt pictures the insect and is puzzled.
It’s a little like baseball, but also very different.
“… and I love meat pies.”
Not the kind of pie with ice cream on top, like you’re thinking.
And he loves something called “Lamingtons.”
It’s like we both speak English, but it’s not quite the same language.
Hey! Max and Mindy got baptized last month. And —cool!—his family’s going to be sealed in the temple next week!
That’s great!
We might have some different sports and foods and words, but we share the really important stuff.

Once when our children were young, I decided to test the Lord’s promise by paying our tithe, even though I didn’t know where we would get money to buy food. I didn’t mention our plight to anyone.
To my surprise, my parents soon came to visit, bringing with them enough meat, potatoes, and bread to last us a very long time. But this wasn’t all. Our oldest daughter had a work-study assignment at school. Her assigned workplace was a sandwich shop, and at the end of the week, she received permission to bring home sandwiches for the whole family!
“Now we just lack some fruit,” I thought to myself. And that afternoon, returning from biking, I saw a lady putting apples into a bag. “Would you like to have these?” she asked. Surprised, I said that I would like them very much indeed.
Just then our neighbor’s young son came by. When he saw the delicious apples, he asked, “Could I have just one?” I held the bag out to him, and he chose one. Thanking me, he hurried away, his eyes shining with happiness.
I thought afterward that the Lord must have wanted to test me too. When He had given so much to me and mine, would I also share with others? I did—and have tried to do so ever since.
Jytte Christiansen, Fredericia Ward, Aarhus Denmark Stake

Maria stirred her scrambled eggs around and around with her fork. “Mom,” she asked, “do we have to go to church next Sunday?”
Mother looked surprised. “Why, of course!” she declared. “We always go to church on Sunday.”
Maria continued to play with her food. Finally her mother asked, “Are you still worried about your talk?”
Maria nodded. She and two other children had been asked to give talks in Primary. Because it was the week of the Mormon Pioneer celebration, the topic of the talks was to be “pioneers in my family.” Maria and her mother had been members of the Church for only a few years.
Mother had told Maria that her Primary teacher probably didn’t realize this. She suggested that Maria talk about the early Mormon pioneers instead. Maria had followed her mother’s advice, but she felt uneasy about it because she wasn’t really following the assigned topic.
Maria finished her breakfast and hurried to school, but all day long she worried about her talk. It seemed forever until the three o’clock bell rang. When she came home, the apartment was empty. Mother wouldn’t be home from work until six o’clock, so Maria fixed herself a snack and thought about her talk. Finally she decided that since she couldn’t talk about pioneers in her family, she simply wouldn’t give a talk at all. Maria was sure Sister Robinson would understand. Besides, Jason and Nancy would still be speaking.
When her Primary teacher answered the phone, Maria explained why she couldn’t give the talk. Instead of agreeing with Maria, Sister Robinson said, “I gave the assignment to you, Maria, for a very special reason. Why don’t you ask your mother if you can come over to my house after dinner, and we’ll talk about it.”
Later that evening Maria went to Sister Robinson’s house. When she returned home, she had a talk all ready for Sunday.
After the opening exercises in Primary on Sunday, Jason stood up and told about his ancestors who had left Norway in 1860 and sailed to America. They had been persecuted in their homeland because they were Mormons.
Nancy read excerpts from her great-grandmother’s diary. It told how she had traveled west in a covered wagon and settled in the Salt Lake Valley.
When Maria walked up in front of the class, her knees were wobbly because she had never given a talk in church before. She was grateful for her notes, because suddenly she had forgotten everything she was supposed to say. Finally, after a quick look at her notebook, Maria began: “Five years ago my mother and I were living in Germany, where I was born. I was in kindergarten then, and my mother was in medical school, studying to become a doctor. My father had just died. The following year my mother graduated, and she had the opportunity to do her internship in Baltimore, Maryland. That’s how we came to the United States.
“On the plane coming over, we sat next to two young men who said they were Mormon missionaries. They had spent two years in Germany preaching the gospel. My mother and I had never met a Mormon before, and we thought they were very brave to leave their homes for such a long time.
“After we had been living in Baltimore for about six months, my mother found out that a doctor she was working with was a Latter-day Saint. She told him about the two missionaries she had met and how impressed she had been by them. The doctor invited us to his home later on, and we began to attend church with him and his family. After a few months my mother was baptized. When I turned eight, I was baptized too.”
Maria paused and looked out over the room. “When Sister Robinson asked me to talk about pioneers in my family, I told her we didn’t have any. I thought pioneers were only people who lived a long time ago, like Nancy’s great-grandmother. Then Sister Robinson asked me to look up the word pioneer in the dictionary. I did, and it said that a pioneer is a person who goes before others and prepares the way for them. So, because my mother and I are the first Latter-day Saints in our family, we are pioneers!
“It’s a great responsibility to be a pioneer, because it’s up to us to set the example for our descendants. But I know that if I stay faithful to the Church, maybe a hundred years from now another girl will stand up in Primary and tell about how her great-grandmother Maria came from Germany with her mother and joined the Church.”
When Primary was over, several people came over and told Maria how much they enjoyed her talk. One sister said that she, too, was a convert but that until Maria’s talk she had never thought of herself as being a pioneer.
When Maria left church, she knew that this was one Pioneer Day that she would always remember.

When Russell got home from his mission he was excited to get a cell phone. He had used one before but without the games, cameras, and text messaging capabilities. On one of the first weekends after his return, he was asked to help out at a neighborhood garage sale. As people wandered among the various items spread out on the lawn, Russell played with his new cell phone and began texting a friend about how much he missed his mission. Suddenly, he noticed a lady who appeared a little confused as she looked at several of the items. He put his cell phone away and approached her. He soon discovered she was new in the area and spoke Spanish but little English. Having served in Spain, he delighted her by speaking Spanish. Before long, he had not only helped her pick out a few items, but he had also taken her name and address with the intent of sending the missionaries.
Russell says, “Here I was texting my friend about how much I missed my mission, and I almost let a missionary opportunity pass me by. When I put the cell phone away, I actually ended up getting a missionary referral. I was happy to have my new cell phone, and texting my friend was fun, but nothing made me happier than getting this referral for the missionaries.”

This question describes me perfectly. I was spending my money on anything and nothing. My branch president told me to look at why I was spending. For me, I wanted to impress my friends and the world, but I wasn’t happy. Are you? I am now saving money for my mission instead.
J. Calvin Shipp, 18Woodstown, New Jersey

A missionary and his companion knocked on the door of an investigator to whom they had given a Book of Mormon. As the elderly woman answered the door, the missionary felt a powerful feeling flood over him. The woman welcomed the missionaries and explained that she had read and believed what they had taught her. The young missionary was so affected by the feeling he felt that he prayed, “Dear Father, please let me never forget the feeling I have felt today.”

Dieter F. Uchtdorf
(15) A young girl encourages her grandmother to “listen harder!”

One bright sunny day it just happened that a boy named Joe was going to visit his granny. His granny lived in a little village, and Joe lived on a farm. So Joe said, “I’ll cut across the big field and save time going to Granny’s.”
He crawled under a fence and was halfway through the field when it just happened that a whirlwind came blustering along. Joe saw it whirling, and he tried to run out of its way. But in no time the wind was twisting all about him. And when it twirled away, it dropped a great big hat on top of Joe’s head.
“What a hat!” Joe exclaimed. “A regular ten-gallon cowboy hat!”
Joe looked all about. Nobody was near. “It belongs to somebody,” he said, “but I guess the wind picked it up and just happened to drop it here for me.” And Joe went along wearing the big hat that fit down over his eyes.
When Joe left the field and started walking along the lane, he heard a woman cry out, “Stop! Have you seen my small chick by the road? It got away, and I’m trying to catch it. But every time I get close to it, off that chick goes!”
Joe pushed back his hat and, sure enough, he could see a little yellow chick in the weeds. “I’ll get him,” Joe called. He pulled off the hat, crept forward a step or two, and suddenly dropped the hat right over the chick.
“I caught him!” Joe cried. “It’s lucky I just happen to have this hat.” Then he gave the chick to the woman and went on his way.
In just a little while he came upon a man and a horse. They were standing beside a water tap that dripped into a broken watering trough. “Ah me!” the man sighed when he saw Joe. “Here I am with a thirsty horse, a water tap, and a broken trough. There’s no way to catch enough water for my horse to drink.”
Joe said, “I think I know a way!” And he pulled off his hat and held it upside down under the tap. Soon there was enough water in the hat for the horse to drink.
“A big felt cowboy hat makes a good bucket,” Joe explained. “It’s lucky I just happened to have one.”
Later on it just happened that Joe’s hat was used to help a woman carry some apples from a torn paper sack into her house.
And it just happened that Joe also had the big hat handy when he passed a house on the lane. He looked up as he passed and saw a little girl standing at an open window with one of her mother’s best cups in her hand. She called hello to Joe. And when she waved to him, down fell the cup.
But Joe was quicker than the falling cup. He grabbed his hat and caught the cup. “Oh, thank you!” the girl’s mother said when he took the cup to the door and gave it to her. “I’m so glad you just happened to come along.”
“This is a good hat,” Joe said to himself as he walked along. “I wonder who was wearing it before the wind happened to come along.”
By now Joe was close to his granny’s house. He would be there after he crossed the village park. Joe walked along the path looking at the people sitting on the benches. Behind one bench was a dog Joe just happened to know. Joe went across the grass to pat the dog.
A big man sitting on the bench had a newspaper folded into a paper hat that he had placed on his head. Joe heard the man say, “That was the worst whirlwind I have ever seen. It swished about and twisted my clothes and grabbed—”
“Your hat!” shouted Joe, as he ran around in front of the bench.
“Well! Well! How did you happen to get it?” asked the man.
Joe told the man how the hat had come to him. The man reached in his pocket and handed Joe two tickets. “I just happen to have these,” the big man explained. “They’re two tickets to our Wild West Show, and you can use them this afternoon. I’m a performer in the show and need my hat today. I’m certainly glad to get it back! Thanks.”
So that afternoon Joe and his granny went to the Wild West Show. And when it was over, Joe said, “That’s the best Wild West Show I have ever seen. I’m so glad that I just happened to be right where the whirlwind just happened to drop that hat!”

Come with me then, if you will, back to that last day of finals when I was a student at BYU. The semester had ended, and I, with others, piled into a friend’s old car. There were always more people than comfort would allow, but what we lost in comfort we saved in cost. With tuna sandwiches or whatever was left in a cupboard we headed north. We were going home—to Canada. At the border crossing, before the eyes of the customs officials, we would be required to open our suitcases. And there was the gray-white laundry that you hope your mom can remedy, caused by your weekly decisions to mix whites and colors and have a full batch. That way you could save a quarter. The customs officer stirred around as he routinely asked, “What have you to declare?” There was never much to declare—just our name, our destination, and our present place of residence. It is this brief moment at the border crossing, responding to the customs official’s inquiry “What have you to declare?” about which I wish to share some ponderings with you—ponderings and insights I gathered over the years.