Gospel Story Finder

“There were times of laughter, times of work, times of fun, and times of discouragement. Discouragement! How can one word describe such a total feeling of inadequacy. At times this feeling crept into my mind as I attempted to work with the youth in the Aaronic Priesthood and the Young Women programs. In some villages there were very few young people in church on Sunday, and in other places activity night was the title of a nonexistent function.
“We had only five weeks to try to activate a program that had been dead for months, and in some places for years. My feelings of discouragement mounted. Then at the beginning of my third week, a spark of hope and encouragement came. On Sunday my partner and I met with the 19 youth in the small village of Tezontepec. I sat looking at each one of their eager, questioning faces and thought to myself how each person was important because someday he would emerge as a leader. But I discovered that as yet they had no leaders.
“How do you train leaders? We questioned the young people about what games they liked, but they knew none. Then we noticed that the youth seemed to look to us for guidance, and we looked to them for enthusiasm. The joy of seeing these young people enthusiastic about something excited us. To our amazement, we saw leadership blossoming before our eyes. Once they were directed in the proper path, they seemed able to function as a united force. A youth committee was formed, and even a talent show became an idea that turned into a reality. One young lady who had previously never come to the Aaronic Priesthood and the Young Women activity night became the coordinator for the talent show. A feeling of exhilaration filled me as I saw her turn from an uninterested personality into an exciting and vivacious young girl.”
Francine MuldoonWhittier, California

One of my most recent challenges has been with my health. I had to return to the United States from serving in the Europe East Area presidency because of kidney failure. I had to have dialysis treatment, and I’ve been in the hospital often. Last summer I had a kidney transplant. All this has helped me gain greater compassion for those who suffer and those who are ill. I’m touched by the nobility of the people I’ve met, and I appreciate now more than ever before the degree to which many of the Lord’s children suffer. I desire to be more sensitive to that.

When I was growing up my father would go on the sheepshearing circuit. He took us with him, partially I think, because he didn’t want to be away from his family long, and also to keep an eye on me. The sheriff was still pretty upset about the bed-sheet-and-wire ghost he’d taken a couple of shots at after my friends and I floated it in front of his office at midnight, letting out a blood curdling scream for dramatic effect. It took years before he quit blaming every little thing that happened on me.

“My name is Omar Interdonato,” the e-mail began. “I’m the son of Fiorella Italia. I hope you still remember her baptism.”
The mother, along with her oldest son and two teenage daughters, their grandmother, and their friend were eventually baptized. Following my mission, I kept in touch with the family, but until I received the e-mail, I had wondered what had happened to Fiorella, the daughters’ young friend.
“My mother has been faithful to the gospel all her life and in 1983 married a good Church member from the Messina Branch and got sealed in the temple,” her son wrote. “I was born in 1984 and my sister, Veronica, in 1987. We are all active in the Church. I served a mission in the Italy Rome Mission from 2005 to 2007, hoping to repay the Lord for all the struggles of two missionaries who decided to preach the gospel in the small town of Floridia!”
There were times during my mission when I wondered if the two years of sacrifice were worth it. But how great is my joy (see D&C 18:15–16) to learn that Fiorella’s life was changed forever because my companion and I made the decision to go forth and forget ourselves in the service of others on the island of Sicily.

A number of years ago I was in Atlanta, Georgia, as an attorney representing a man who was buying a business. After several days of negotiations we reached an agreement and signed the closing documents. That evening one of the sellers invited us to a dinner to celebrate the closing. When I arrived, he offered me an alcoholic drink, which I declined. He then said, “Are you a Saint?” I didn’t fully understand what he meant, and he repeated, “Are you a Latter-day Saint?” I responded, “Yes, I am,” and he said he had been observing my personal habits during our negotiations and had concluded that I was either LDS or had a stomach problem. We both chuckled. He then informed me that he had only known one member of the Church on a personal basis, David B. Haight. They were both executives in Chicago with a large retail chain following World War II. He told me of the significant influence Elder Haight had been in his life and that he held him in the highest regard.
As I flew back home to San Francisco, I thought about what had occurred, especially in two respects: I was surprised at how it felt to be asked if I was a Saint, and I was impressed with the positive influence one outstanding example—Elder Haight—had on this good man.

“My mom likes to sew a lot, so I decided to make a quilt to see how I would like it,” says 16-year-old David Rowse. “I’ll use it on my bed after the competition is over.”
A 16-year-old boy tying a quilt of his own free will and choice? Isn’t that just a little strange?
Not in Glendale. In fact, he faces stiff competition from the other boys who have sewn throw pillows and other useful household items.
Even more important than learning how to bake a perfect cake, run faster, or play a piano piece, are the relationships that are formed through participation in the competition. In addition to individual events, each ward earns points for every event a member participates or places in.
“Even if you don’t ever win anything,” says Natalie Garrard, “every entry is important and counts for something.”
Every person is important as well. The competition is a vital part of what makes the Glendale youth such good friends. Friendships formed at the competition are often the springboard that strengthens testimonies, gets the less-active coming to church again, and makes everyone feel that they are an important part of the stake.
Adrian Juchau says, “The competition is so much fun because everyone shows so much support. I was a little afraid to compete, until I actually tried it and found out that people are really having a good time.” In fact, Adrian had so much fun that he decided he would be at every event whether he was participating or not.
“At the Ping-Pong tournament, I was more nervous than the people who were playing,” he admits.
Because the competition takes place over a three-week period, the youth spend a lot of time together, working out, rehearsing, competing, and just “hanging out” waiting for the next event.
“My friends and I wanted to enter the group vocal-music competition. We just couldn’t find a song we liked, so we spent five hours looking together. Finally, we turned on the radio and heard the perfect song. We joked that it must be true inspiration,” says Mia Maid Marlowe Ziegler.
Cheering on your competitors in other wards, spending five hours to find the perfect piece of music, or traveling back and forth to different church buildings for three weeks every year, might seem like a lot of effort, and it is. But in Glendale, most everyone says, “It’s all worth it.”
When the contest finally ends for another year, ribbons and medals are given in every competition, with separate categories for boys and girls. Nearly everyone wins at least one award, and lots of people have several. Yet no one really seems to notice. Everyone has won other things that seem much more important: friendship built on a gospel foundation, love for fellow competitors, and an appreciation for the talents of others.
“I wanted to learn how to play the piano blindfolded, and now I can,” says Adrian, a skill that, by all accounts, is a new one in the stake.
“I would never have learned how to build that cabinet without the competition as a goal,” adds Jared Hall.
Paul Jenkins competed with a good friend. “There aren’t any bad feelings,” he says. “We both knew we’d do well, and we did.”
Those sentiments are echoed by many other participants and can be seen in the way everyone gets along throughout the various competitions. On performing and fine arts night, while one girl is being congratulated on an exemplary piano performance, another is being cheered up by friends who realize she wanted to do better on her vocal solo. Boys good-naturedly tease each other about who is going to win the art competition, but then wish each other good luck. On track-and-field day, several girls laugh about deciding to cross the finish line together in a race so they can all come in first. The list goes on.
And although the competition has been going on for longer than any of these participants can remember, no one really remembers past winners.
Jessica Forsberg, a 16-year-old whose talents shine brightest on track-and-field events, sums it up best. Still breathless from a race, she says, “When you cross that finish line, even if you didn’t win, you feel like you’ve succeeded. Winning isn’t everything; it’s just for fun.”
Competing just for fun? Focusing on people rather than achievements? Using competition as an incentive to excel without hurting people’s feelings? Some might think those things are too good to be true. But if you live in the Glendale Arizona Stake, it’s just how things are done.

After several meetings with the missionaries, I was not making much progress. I felt I had not received a confirmation of the truthfulness of the gospel.

One day, Renee asked me, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon?”

I replied, “No.” I was listening to the missionaries—wasn’t that enough?

With tears in her eyes, Renee assured me that she knew the Book of Mormon is true and explained that if I wanted to know if it is true, the only way is—guess what—to read it! And then ask!

Read, ponder in your hearts, and “ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, … with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ” (Moroni 10:4) if the Book of Mormon is true, if this is the true Church.

So the third lesson, in one sentence: when you receive these things—the Book of Mormon—and you are exhorted to read and ask God if they are true, please just do it!

The final experience I’d like to share is about repentance. After I had finished taking all the missionary lessons, I was still not convinced I needed to change anything in my life. It was Elder Cutler, a young, confident missionary with limited Spanish, who one day said, “Joaquin, let’s read together Alma 42, and we will include your name as we read it.”

I thought it was silly, but I did as Elder Cutler asked and read in verse 1: “And now, my son [Joaquin], I perceive there is somewhat more which doth worry your mind, which ye cannot understand.” Oh! The book was speaking to me.

And we read in verse 2: “Now behold, my son [Joaquin], I will explain this thing unto thee,” and then the Fall of Adam was described.

And then in verse 4: “And thus we see, that there was a time granted unto [Joaquin] to repent.”

We continued reading slowly, verse by verse, until we reached the last three verses. Then I was struck by a powerful force. The book spoke directly to me, and I started to cry as I read, “And now, [Joaquin,] my son, I desire that ye should let these things trouble you no more, and only let your sins trouble you, with that trouble which shall bring you … unto repentance” (verse 29).

I realize now that I had expected to receive revelation without paying the price. Until then I had never truly spoken to God, and the idea of speaking to someone who wasn’t present seemed foolish. I had to humble myself and do what I was being asked to do even if, in my worldly mind, it sounded silly.

That day I opened my heart to the Spirit, desired to repent, and wanted to be baptized! Before that moment, I had thought of repentance as something negative, associated only with sin and wrongdoing, but suddenly I saw it in a different light—as something positive that cleared the path to growth and happiness.

Elder Cutler is here today, and I want to thank him for opening my eyes. Every decision I have made in my life since then has been influenced by that moment when I humbled myself and prayed for forgiveness, and the Atonement of Jesus Christ on my behalf became part of my life.

So the last lesson, in one statement: experience repentance; nothing draws you closer to the Lord Jesus Christ than a desire to change.

My dear investigator, friend of the Church, if you are listening today, you are very close to reaching the greatest joy. You are close!

Let me invite you, with all the energy of my heart and from the depths of my soul: go and be baptized! It is the best thing you will ever do. It will change not only your life but also the lives of your children and grandchildren.

The Lord has blessed me with a family. I married Renee, and we have four beautiful children. And because of my baptism, I can, like the prophet Lehi of old, invite them to partake of the fruit of the tree of life, which is the love of God (see 1 Nephi 8:15; 11:25). I can help them come unto Christ.

So please consider my experiences, and (1) take the missionaries very seriously, (2) go to church and remember spiritual feelings, (3) read the Book of Mormon and ask the Lord if it is true, and (4) experience repentance and be baptized.

I testify to you that if you pay the price of revelation, humble yourself, read, pray, and repent, the heavens will open and you will know, as I know, that Jesus is the Christ, He is my Savior, and He is yours. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A young woman named Thricia felt feelings of guilt, shame, and unworthiness after doing something wrong. She began to listen to Church music, watch Church videos, and study gospel talks more intently, but the feelings didn’t go away. Eventually she decided to talk to her branch president. As she met with him, she felt the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ for her. Now she feels grateful that through the Savior’s Atonement, she can be forgiven of her sins and receive help to rise above her weaknesses. “What I hold on to right now is that He is always with me in this journey,” she says.

I play basketball. One day, I messaged the coach that I wouldn’t be able to play in any Sunday games.
He responded, “What do you mean? If you want to go professional, you have to put the sport first.” I told him that if I wanted to go professional, I had to put God first, and He would help me.
My coach said, “I am going to do everything possible for the games to be on Saturdays.” And that’s the way it’s been.
It might not always work out that way. But I’m glad my coach knows that for me, the sport doesn’t come first—my Heavenly Father does.
When I do things right, I feel that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are proud of me. It’s a peace that no one can take from me, knowing that I’m trying and that They recognize my effort.
The sport doesn’t come first—my Heavenly Father does.

Sister Rita was baptized in August 2018 by her son, Brother Debdeep. She came to know about the Church from his son who became a member while staying in Texas. After investigating the Church for few weeks and learning about the gospel, Sister Rita was inspired to take the decision to be baptized. It is a joy to watch her grow strong in her testimony and her hunger to learn more about our Savior every day, something which President Nelson invited us to do in his counsel “Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” (Russell M. Nelson, “Drawing the Power of Jesus Christ into Our Lives,” Apr. 2017 General Conference; Liahona, May 2017).

One evening after the United States Navy destroyer on which I served left Pearl Harbor for the North Pacific, I was the officer of the watch for the night shift. I retired to my bunk after supper to get some sleep before going on duty. I felt the roll of the ship as I was dropping off to sleep. Later when I relieved the watch, the roll was more pronounced, and as I stepped out into the blackness of the open bridge, I felt the bite of the wind.
During the winter the North Pacific can be quite rough, and that night the waves were large enough that the wind was starting to catch their crests and cause a white streaking of foam.
“I am ready to relieve you, sir,” I said.
The officer on duty’s face reflected the soft glow of the compass, and he reported the ship’s course and speed. He added that the captain had turned in for the evening, then said, “The barometer has dropped three-hundredths in the past hour.” This meant stormy weather.
“Does the captain know this?” I asked.
“Yes, but he did not leave any special orders.”
He closed the door to the pilothouse behind him, and I found myself alone looking out at a menacing sea.
When ships encounter heavy weather, officers are to keep the ship’s bow heading into the wind with just enough speed to maintain steering. If waves strike the ship broadside, heavy rolling occurs, which can cause injury to the crew or even capsize the ship.
After an hour the waves had become mountainous. The wind was howling, and sheets of water were being blown through the air from huge cresting waves. The ship would climb the front side of the approaching wave, reach the crest, hang momentarily, then glide swiftly down the back side of the wave, plunging into the trough and resurfacing with water running over the deck, all the while pitching and shuddering. To steady the ship I had to reduce speed.
As the storm increased, I learned that the barometer had dropped another five-hundredths. I called the captain to report the worsening conditions. He simply replied, “Very well,” and hung up.
Soon the helmsman called out to me, “I am having trouble, sir. She is falling off to starboard!” I quickly checked the compass and discovered that the bow was inching toward the trough. If that continued, we could end up in a dangerous position broadside to the waves. I ordered the helmsman to make the necessary adjustment, but before long the needle started drifting back. The helmsman tried to correct the drift again, but the ship was slow to respond.
Conditions were worsening. The wind was now shrieking at about 100 miles (160 km) per hour, the waves were 50 feet (15 m) high, and the ship’s bow kept moving toward the trough. Fear rose inside me because I knew if one of these waves hit us broadside, the ship could quite possibly capsize. I called the captain, who was awake because the violent motion of the ship made it impossible to sleep. He was worried too. He did not have any advice but told me to do the best I could.
The helmsman informed me with a frightened voice that he had done all he could, but the bow was still drifting to starboard. I was utterly desperate and fear was turning to panic as I continued my frantic mental search for a solution. The most nightmarish thoughts flooded my mind. I felt helpless and entirely humbled.
In my childlike state, I cried out to the only one who could help me—my Heavenly Father. The answer to my impassioned plea was immediate and clear. A voice in my mind said, “Use your engines. Use your engines in opposition.” I instantly understood.
I ordered, “Starboard engine ahead two-thirds. Port engine ahead one-third.” Slowly the ship’s bow responded by moving out of the impending trough. As the ship headed back into the waves, a great feeling of gratitude engulfed me. The storm continued, but I was able to maintain the ship’s direction by adding to one engine and subtracting from the other.
A skeptic might say the solution was in my mind all the time, but I know better. It came in answer to prayer.

At the San Jose 23rd Ward, youth representatives had decided to clean up the meetinghouse as their service project. This posed a problem for Burke Perry, 12, the bishop’s son. He is the only boy his age in his ward. So he recruited some help.
Urged on by Burke’s promises that they could compete in the chariot race, several of his nonmember friends also grabbed buckets and sponges to help scrub down chapel benches and the kitchen, joining forces with the girls in the ward. Such fellowshipping is typical for Burke, who kept 10 nonmembers coming to church all year so he could play on a ward basketball team.
“I just call them up and ask them to come,” he said. “They’re used to it, I guess. Their parents really like it.”

When Addison Pratt left Tahiti in March 1847, he had hoped to find his family in California with the rest of the Saints. Yet having received no word from them—or anyone in the Church—in the last year, he did not know if they would actually be there. “To reflect that I am now on my way to them is a pleasant thought,” he wrote in his journal. “But the next thought that arises is: Where are they? Or where am I to find them?”20
Addison arrived at San Francisco Bay in June. There he found the Brooklyn Saints awaiting the return of Sam Brannan and the arrival of the main body of the Church. Believing Louisa and their children were on their way to the coast, Addison volunteered to go to the Saints’ settlement, New Hope, with four other men to harvest the Church’s wheat.
The group left a short time later in a boat. New Hope lay more than a hundred miles inland on a tributary of the San Joaquin River. For days, the men sailed along low marshy country with tall bulrushes by the riverbanks. Nearer the settlement, the ground hardened, and they traveled the rest of the way on foot over grassy prairies.
The site for New Hope was beautiful, but a nearby river had flooded a short time before, washing out some of the Saints’ wheat and leaving behind pools of stagnant water. At night, as Addison lay down to sleep, swarms of mosquitoes besieged the settlement. Addison and the others tried to beat them away or smoke them out, but with no success. And to make matters worse, coyotes and owls howled and hooted until daybreak, robbing the tired settlers of peace and quiet.21
The wheat harvest started the next morning. But Addison’s sleepless night caught up with him by noon, and he napped beneath the shade of a tree. This became an everyday routine as mosquitoes and the din of wild animals kept him awake night after night. When the harvest was over, Addison was happy to go.
“Had it not have been for the mosquitoes,” he wrote in his journal, “I should have enjoyed myself well there.”22
Back at San Francisco Bay, Addison began preparing a home for his family. By then, some members of the Mormon Battalion had arrived in California and received an honorable release. Sam Brannan also returned to the bay, still convinced that Brigham was foolish to settle in the Salt Lake Valley. “When he has fairly tried it,” he told some battalion veterans, “he will find that I was right and he was wrong.”
Sam delivered Brigham’s letter to the Saints in California, however, and many of those who had sailed on the Brooklyn or marched with the Mormon Battalion decided to emigrate to the Salt Lake Valley in the spring. Sam also had a letter for Addison from Louisa. She was still in Winter Quarters, but she too planned to come to the valley in the spring and settle with the body of the Saints.
Addison’s plans changed immediately. Come spring, he would head east with the departing Saints and meet up with his family.23

I have just finished reading “Taking upon Us His Name” in the April 1982 New Era. It is exactly the article I needed to read at this time. Thank you!
My only daughter, Audrey, and I were both baptized in 1976. She was 15 at the time. She went on to Ricks College, where she met her husband. They were married in the Idaho Falls Temple in December of 1980, and they are expecting their first child in late June. I’m so very happy for them.
On the other hand, since Audrey is gone, I’m all alone in the Church. I have gone to church alone and prayed alone. My spirituality has slowly dwindled away. It’s not much fun when an individual doesn’t have anyone in the family to communicate with on a spiritual level. I have prayed for my spirituality to come back. This article by Sister Ardeth Kapp has increased my testimony quite a bit.
How frail our mortal testimony can be when we are not encouraged by others, be it family or friends. I realized while reading that article that I don’t really need outside help. What matters most is what I feel deep in my heart. All I need is to know that our Heavenly Father loves me unconditionally.
I will continue to pray that other members of my family will be touched by the Holy Spirit as Audrey and I were. I pray that they will someday soon know all about the only true Church here on the earth. I read the New Era from cover to cover every time it comes.
Marina DouganCalgary, Alberta, Canada

As a new member having received my patriarchal blessing, I would read it from time to time. One day I read something that I had never read before. I cannot remember the exact words, but I was told how the Lord had preserved me for this time. In that instant my mind went back to the late 1950s when I worked for a private firm repairing railway wagons. Twice a week about eight of us would pile in the works’ van to be dropped off at places where wagon repairs were needed.

I realise now that the Lord had protected me, I did not show my patriarchal blessing to my wife, but I told her about what I had read. However, the following week when I read my blessing again, looking for the phrase about Lord preserving me for this time, it was not there. I read and re-read it, but it was not there. To this day I cannot explain this, but I do believe that our Heavenly Father is watching over us and preparing the way we go.

Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
Elder Andersen said he struggled with this issue for a while and then it came: He heard the voice of the Lord say, “Neil, you did not put yourself there. I did, because I love you, and I know you can change, and I know you can help with my work.”

I realize that before me are hundreds of young men, many of whom are deacons. I remember when I was a deacon. (It has been a long time ago, however.) I thought it was a great honor to be a deacon. My father was always considerate of my responsibilities and always permitted me to take the buggy and horse to gather fast offerings. My responsibility included that part of the town in which I lived, but it was quite a long walk to the homes, and a sack of flour or a bottle of fruit or vegetables or bread became quite heavy as it accumulated. So the buggy was very comfortable and functional. We have changed to cash in later days, but it was commodities in my day. It was a very great honor to do this service for my Heavenly Father; and though times have changed, when money is given generally instead of commodities, it is still a great honor to perform this service.

One Sunday our stake received the wonderful news that Elder Carlos H. Amado of the Seventy would be coming to speak to our stake on Tuesday evening. My family and I were thrilled, but I worried about how we would make it to the meeting.
As a high school teacher, I had to teach a class Tuesday evening. Unfortunately, I was rarely granted time off. Not sure what to do but determined to hear Elder Amado speak, my family and I turned to prayer, hoping the Lord would provide a way.
The day before the conference, I felt prompted to talk with the principal about leaving 20 minutes early so my family and I could make it to the meeting. I arrived in her office, and before I could say a word, she asked me if I would mind changing my Tuesday class starting time to two hours earlier than normal. This meant that my class would get out two hours early.
What a blessing this was to us. We arrived at the meeting in plenty of time and felt the Spirit in the presence of one of the Lord’s disciples. Our five-year-old son even had the wonderful privilege of sharing a hug and small conversation with Elder Amado before the meeting began. Together with the rest of the congregation, we enjoyed an outpouring of the Spirit. In addition, we gained a testimony as a family that Heavenly Father knows our desires and hears our prayers.

My grandfather joined the Church in the 1800s in Kirkintilloch, Scotland. As a single, young man he immigrated to the United States with the intent of coming to Utah. When he arrived in New York there was a delay as he waited for a wagon train to be organized that would take him to the Salt Lake Valley. During this time he became discouraged. He evidently had a talent for acting and had appeared in one or two amateur productions in Scotland. However, before he left for the United States, his mother, for whatever reason, made him promise that he would not pursue a life on the stage. Yet, as he spent those discouraging days in New York, he saw an advertisement that an acting company was hiring actors. He decided he would try to join them. As he walked up the steps toward the front door of the theatrical company, the words of his mother came into his heart. He paused for a moment and then turned back. He had only gone a short distance when he met someone who had been looking for him. A wagon train was being organized, and it was going to the valley. My grandfather came to Utah in that train.
Had he not stopped and remembered what he was told by someone who loved him, had he not made the decision to turn back, it is clear that his life would have been totally different and the lives of his many descendants as well. It was all decided when he paused for a moment, thought about what he was doing, what it meant to himself and others, and then decided to turn back.

The last time I worked on that kind of a project, I spent nine hours moving things around, changing them from one box to another, stacking some here and some there. When I was finished I was so proud of myself. Then I realized that all I had really done was move them from one place to another.
My wife says that I have a subconscious rule that I must move things from one place to another at least a hundred times before I can bring myself to give them away. Suffice it to say, if you need help in this, there are better experts than I to teach you.