Gospel Story Finder

I own only one pair of pants—a pair of neat black jeans. It may sound unusual, but that silly fact has brought me much joy. After college, I had to move out of my apartment in Finland, and since I had planned a two-month trip to the United States, I had to figure out what to do with all my belongings. So I made an inventory of everything I owned and realized that I actually needed much less than I had. After some honest contemplation, I decided to sell my excess belongings before moving out. I loved how it felt, and though it has been a few years, the feeling of not having many belongings is incredibly liberating to this day.
When I was deciding which clothes to get rid of and which ones to keep, I held on to only as much as I felt I actually needed, and also which items I enjoyed the most. I realized that in possessing a lot of something, like clothing, I had a harder time appreciating it. After committing to the pants that I really liked and actually used, I felt greater joy wearing them. This applied to many of my other belongings too.

Elder Cuthbert and his family are converts to the Church. “We were baptized on a January evening in 1951,” he said, “and we didn’t have a beautiful chapel such as those located in many parts of the world. Our meeting place was in an old house, where the missionaries had constructed a baptismal font under the floorboards. My family was among the first group to be baptized in the font. We were very happy and excited and had been looking forward to our baptism, because each of us knew it was what Heavenly Father and Jesus wanted us to do. Although it was a very cold evening, we felt warm as we went into the font.
“After our baptism and confirmation, we had an even warmer feeling because we knew we had been baptized into the Lord’s true church. It helped us to start again and to feel clean and pure.”

Our family had an experience that taught us about helping children develop their ability to make choices. Our daughter Mary was a standout soccer player growing up. One year her team made it to the championships and, wouldn’t you know it, that game was to be played on a Sunday. As a young teen, Mary had had years of teaching that the Sabbath was a day of rest and spiritual regeneration, not recreation. But she still felt pressure from her coaches and teammates to play, as well as a desire not to let her team down.
She asked us what she should do. My wife and I could easily have made this decision for her. However, we decided after prayerful consideration that in this case our daughter was ready to take spiritual responsibility for her own decision. We read some scriptures with her and encouraged Mary to pray and think about it.
After a few days she announced her decision. She would play the game on Sunday. Now what were we to do? After further discussion and receiving reassurance from the Spirit, we did as we had promised and permitted her to carry out her choice to play. After the game ended, Mary slowly walked over to her waiting mother. “Oh, Mom,” she said, “that felt awful. I never want to feel like that again. I’m never playing another game on the Sabbath day.” And she never did.
Mary had now internalized the principle of Sabbath keeping. If we had forced her not to play the game, we would have deprived her of a precious and powerful learning experience with the Spirit.

In order to come to the point, I want to tell you of a faithful brother who was a member of the same branch in my home country of Germany in the early years of my membership.
He was living in humble circumstances and felt very blessed to have recently begun a job in a small, privately owned company. He told me about an upcoming event where all of the employed people were invited to participate in a traditional company dinner party. He was concerned because he knew that there would be a big beer party at the end of this meeting, with the boss being probably the heaviest beer drinker of them all. But he also knew that it would be considered very impolite if he did not attend the dinner at all.
When I saw him again, after that dinner event occurred, I saw him with a most happy, deep inner glow, and he could not wait to tell me what had happened. Because he was new in the company, the boss had sat right next to him, wanting to get to know him better. As the evening progressed, the brother saw his wildest fears confirmed because the boss would not tolerate that he would not drink beer with him, and he said, “What kind of church is that that would not permit you to drink even a glass of beer with me?”
The fear of my friend did not grow into panic as he was able to calmly answer his boss that the reason he was not drinking had nothing to do with the church that he belonged to, but that he himself had made a sacred covenant with God that he would not drink. If he would ever break this covenant, how could he continue to stay true to that which he would ever promise, and how could he be trusted, even by his employer, that he would not lie or steal or cheat.
According to my friend, the owner was deeply touched by this statement, and he hugged him, speaking words of profound admiration and confidence.

My mother was ill most of my growing-up years, but when I was about 15, her health deteriorated and she almost never left the house. During this time many ward members dropped by, but no one came more often than her visiting teachers. Each Sunday Colleen Goodwin took notes at every Church meeting. Later she’d visit my mother and tell her about every talk and every lesson while Marian Eubanks massaged Mom’s sore and swollen legs and feet.
Now, these sisters didn’t do this just once or twice. They did it for years! They both worked and had families of their own. But we knew if we ever needed anything, we could call on Mom’s visiting teachers. They went more than the extra mile—they became Mom’s friends. And they taught her young daughter about true charity.—Tracy Wright, Prairie Fifth Ward, West Jordan Utah Prairie Stake

Six years into marriage, we found that we were expanding our family. We were so excited to raise our son and teach him the gospel. But 24 weeks into the pregnancy, our little boy was born fighting for life. After just eight weeks he returned to Heavenly Father. As I held him for the last time, I recognized yet another wonderful blessing of the temple: our son had been born in the covenant and could be ours forever.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win. Mom and I are both so proud of you for trying,” Dad said. He sat down next to Raina. “Do you remember when I was out of work a couple of years ago?”
Raina nodded.
“I applied for lots of jobs and wasn’t hired for any of them,” Dad said. “I was feeling pretty discouraged.”
Raina lifted her head. “Really?”
Dad nodded. “But I didn’t give up. After a long time, I found a job that was perfect. But it wouldn’t have happened if I had stopped trying.”

Dr. Ho-jik Kim was the first Korean to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He helped to establish the Korean Mission and a friend once said of him, “His righteous influence and simple faith in God was a great light for the people of Korea.”

While he was still a young man, Ho-jik searched many places to find the true religion. At one time or another he had joined several churches but none of them satisfied him; he wanted something more. After attending an agricultural college and a university in Korea, he decided to go to America to obtain a better education.

While studying at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, he met Oliver Wayman, a Latter-day Saint who became his friend. Oliver invited Ho-jik to attend some church meetings with him and later gave him the Articles of Faith, the Book of Mormon, and several other books. Ho-jik Kim read them all and believed they were true.

He was baptized in the Susquehanna River near where the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were baptized. The power of the Holy Ghost was strong and Brother Kim, thinking of the words of Jesus, “Feed my sheep,” felt that he should preach the gospel to his fellowmen.

He earned a doctor’s degree in education and returned home to Korea in 1951 where he held important positions in education with the government.

Dr. Kim played a big part in bringing the gospel to Korea and in helping the Church to grow there. He was an inspiration to the members and his example taught them humility, devotion, and faithfulness.

Jake loved Sundays! He loved learning about Jesus. He loved singing in Primary.
And he loved pizza.
Every Sunday, Jake’s family stopped at a pizza place on their way home from church. Thinking about the gooey cheese and warm tomato sauce always made his mouth water.
One Sunday, Jake’s class was talking about keeping the Sabbath day holy.
“What can we do on Sunday to show that it’s a special day?” Sister Chi asked.
“Help other people?” Raul said.
“Go to church!” Tamara said.
“Spend time with our family,” Jake said.
“Those are all great answers,” Sister Chi said, writing them on the board. “Anything else?”
“We don’t go shopping on Sunday unless it’s an emergency,” Liam said.
“That’s right,” Sister Chi said, nodding. “Then we can think about Heavenly Father instead of thinking about buying things. Also, that helps other people keep the Sabbath day holy instead of having to work.”
Sister Chi and the other kids kept talking, but suddenly Jake found it hard to listen. His family never went to the mall or the grocery store on Sunday. But they did go out for pizza. Were they keeping the Sabbath day holy?
When class ended, Jake went to find his parents. For the first time, he wasn’t very excited to eat pizza.
Mom met him in the hallway with his little brother, Daniel. She led them outside to the car, where Dad was waiting.
“How was church?” she asked once they were all buckled in.
“Great! I learned a new song in Primary,” Daniel said, singing what he could remember. Jake stayed quiet, looking down at his shoes.
“What about you, Jake?” Dad said.
“It was OK,” Jake mumbled without looking up.
“What did you learn about?” Mom asked.
“The Sabbath day,” Jake said.
“We learned about that too,” Dad said, glancing over at Mom. “Actually, we wanted to talk with you guys about—”
“Should we be buying pizza on Sunday?” Jake blurted out. He didn’t want to ruin their family tradition. But he wanted them to keep the Sabbath day holy too.
Mom looked back at him, surprised.
“That’s exactly what we wanted to talk about,” Mom said. “We realized that eating at the pizza place probably isn’t the best thing to do on the Sabbath.”
“But can we still have pizza on Sundays?” Daniel asked.
“Sure. We’ll eat something else today,” Dad said. “From now on I’ll buy a frozen pizza on Saturday. Then we can bake it at home on Sunday.”
“Can we try different toppings on it?” Jake said. “Like olives and peppers shaped in a smiley face?”
“Yeah! With a pineapple nose?” Daniel added.
“Ha! You got it,” Mom said.
Jake felt a big grin spread across his face. The warm feeling he had inside was worth all the pizza in the world.

I had been on my mission for 13 months when I received a phone call from my mission president informing me of the death of my dear sister Solange. This news broke my heart, and I shed tears of sadness as I remembered the beautiful moments we had spent together throughout her life of nearly 20 years. My pain over losing her was very deep.
As we approached the weekend, I realized that we were coming up on general conference. And in spite of my sorrow and pain, my companion and I went to watch the conference broadcast at the chapel.
Who would have known, but in his talk entitled “Confide in God Unwaveringly,” Elder Ulisses Soares recounted an experience that exactly described my situation. He said, “Years ago while serving as a mission president, I received a phone call from the parents of one of our beloved missionaries informing me of the death of his sister. I remember, in the tenderness of that moment, that missionary and I discussed God’s marvelous plan of salvation for His children and how this knowledge would comfort him.
“Although he was stunned and saddened by that adversity, this missionary—through his tears and with faith in God—rejoiced in his sister’s life. He expressed unwavering confidence in the tender mercies of the Lord. Resolutely, he told me that he would continue to serve his mission with all faith and diligence in order to be worthy of the promises that God had for him and his family. In this time of need, that faithful missionary turned his heart to God, placed all of his trust in Him, and renewed his commitment to serve the Lord with faith and with all diligence” (Liahona, May 2017, 35).
Dear brothers and sisters, I felt that every word, every sentence of this talk was addressed directly to me—and what a source of comfort! I testify that God speaks to us every six months through the mouths of His servants in general conference.

Not many years ago I had a similar experience. I knew that I should tell the bishop of my mistake. I knew that if I were to die without confessing, I wouldn’t be able to look my Maker in the eye without guilt. But then I thought of the bishop. I felt that he respected me. I was the Laurel president. Over the years I had held many callings in Young Women. The thought of telling the bishop was painful to me. I felt that he would lose respect for me.

I decided to tell the bishop anyway to clear my conscience. I was extremely nervous when I called and asked if I could see him. The bishop was very understanding. He didn’t lecture me. He assured me that my sin was forgivable and that my Father in Heaven loved me very much and wanted me to be happy. As soon as I told him, the burden lifted and I felt clean once again. The next time I saw him he treated me as if nothing had happened. He never mentioned it again.

I have since thought about my past mistake, but the memory of it is as if it were another life. Two years after this incident I was married in the temple to a wonderful husband. We have now been married six months.

If I hadn’t taken that step I wouldn’t have been worthy to go to the temple.

It’s really worth it! No one needs to know but the bishop, the Lord, and you. Be brave and good luck.

Name withheld.

James H., age 11, from Salt Lake City, Utah, likes to learn about history, use computers, and search for clues like a detective. That’s why he got really excited when his parents invited the ward’s family history consultant to teach James’s family about the Church’s online family history program. It’s called Family Tree, and James loves using it to search through his family history chart to find the green arrows next to the names of ancestors who weren’t baptized or sealed to their families.
Since that day, James has found more than 80 of his ancestors’ names. It feels good to know he can help his ancestors by sending their names to the temple. “Someone up in heaven is thinking, ‘They finally found me!’” he says.
When I find a new ancestor who needs to have temple ordinances done, I print out the ancestor’s name so the temple work can be done.
I taught my little brother, William, how to type in names so he can help search for our ancestors online.
My mom and dad and older brother and sister have helped me by doing baptisms for the dead and other ordinances in the temple for the ancestors I find.

Car horns blared and taxis and buses jostled for a place in the traffic. As Benjamin Misalucha sat in the marketplace watching the automobiles roll by, he reached for a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He hoped his wife would be done with the shopping soon. The weather was hot and muggy, as it often is in the Philippines, and he was eager to get home and relax with his children.
Then he noticed a sign, high on the side of one of the buildings overlooking the square. “No other success can compensate for failure in the home,” the sign read. He found himself contemplating the message and believing in its truth.
“During those times I was young, about 30, and had four children. We had everything, comparatively speaking, compared to other Filipinos, but I was not satisfied with life. In my heart I knew I was searching for something more,” he said.
He didn’t guess that the quotation from President David O. McKay had been inscribed on the sign by missionaries living in the building, the same kind of Mormon missionaries who had already visited with him for three weeks when he lived in Manila, the capital city. He had also been visited twice by the elders here in Davao, another large city in the south.
A short time later, Benjamin Misalucha was transferred by his pharmaceutical company to Cebu City, an important community on one of the central islands. It was in Cebu that Mr. Misalucha and his family would discover the secret of what had been lacking in their lives.
In a society in which sharing is so accepted, it might seem unusual that someone would stand out as being particularly kind and generous. But such was the case with the local Parent Teacher Association (PTA) president. Right from the start she went out of her way to help the Misaluchas adjust to their new city. Soon Mr. Misalucha was serving on the PTA board. He eventually found out that the PTA president was also the wife of the local Mormon bishop. His curiosity grew and grew.
“One day I saw both of them walking home, and I ran over to catch up with them,” Mr. Misalucha explained. “I told him I wanted to know more about his church. He said he could recommend a couple of nice young men who could teach me about it.”
For the next ten months, the elders became a regular fixture in the Misalucha home. Benjamin Misalucha would entertain them with stories about previous encounters with missionaries, before he fully understood who they were: “They knocked on my door and asked me if I was the head of the house. I was all hot and perspiring from doing some chores, so I told them, ‘No, I’m just the janitor here.’ It’s something I say jokingly to my family all the time, but they believed me!”
Avelina would always provide cold water or juice, cake, or even siopao (doughy, white, steamed Chinese bread stuffed with sausage and eggs). And of course, the children, who numbered five by now, would have fun teasing the missionaries and telling jokes before the serious gospel discussions began.
“I wanted answers from the Bible,” Benjamin said, “because I didn’t believe in the Book of Mormon yet. And they showed me answers in the Bible. I was totally perplexed by how they could always get answers to questions I couldn’t even answer myself.” Slowly, his perplexed state gave way to understanding. The missionaries could find the answers because they knew the truth. He summoned a family council.
“Take this individually into prayer,” he told his wife and children. At the next family council, they all voted in favor of becoming Latter-day Saints. The family was baptized on April 29, 1978, a Saturday.

At my school, each class provides Christmas presents for a different child who wouldn’t have presents otherwise. The girl my class was assigned to help had asked for very little: just a doll and a book. At first we grudgingly all brought in a cheap book or discounted doll and put it in a box. But then we soon brought in more and more, realizing how good it felt to give. We were so excited each day to bring in things for this little girl that we would laugh with joy. Over the weeks we collected so many presents that they couldn’t fit in the box—the gifts were literally overflowing.
Instead of thinking about what we were getting for Christmas, we thought about the little girl’s face on Christmas morning, and it always made us smile and feel happy. It made us realize how the spirit of Christmas is about giving, not getting. And that made me think of what our Heavenly Father gave us that wonderful night: a Savior. He gave us a light, an example, and someone we can always trust. It made me realize how much Heavenly Father loves us—so much that He gave us a Savior, the Holy Ghost, our families, and our friends. I’m so grateful for that little girl and the lessons she taught me. That Christmas, the best gift for me was the giving.

Well, the first two or three weeks out there weren’t bad. While war was very much on our minds because of our previous training and the films we’d seen and all of the other things that train a boy to be what he ought to be in war, it still wasn’t real. Interestingly enough, during the first two weeks of our voyage, the army and navy, because they are always interested in the well-rounded personality, held a general church service every evening at 5:00 where we could come and sing a common song, whether we were Jew, Catholic, gentile, or Latter-day Saint, something that would bind us together in a religious cause. And the chaplain would talk to us for four or five minutes, and then we’d just sit and visit and talk about home and girls and all the other things that seem to be important to men at that stage of their lives, and then we’d be dismissed—about an hour of service every day at 5:00. Out of 3,000 there were 35 or 40 who used to go to this little service every day. Thirty-five or forty! That’s typical of life, isn’t it, as you look at your campus, your stake, your ward, or surrounding communities?
As we entered the third week, things started to pick up in tempo a little bit. They brought out some big rubber relief maps, and they had our target island depicted right down to the last palm tree and pill box, everything perfectly marked. Then they’d say, “Boat team 27 (that was mine), you’re going in.” And then, since it was the last hour and because they didn’t have room in the regular meeting place, we held the evening services topside on the bow. And there was one of the most interesting studies of human life I have ever watched in my life.
Do you know what happened that July 21, 1944? Three thousand men came to church! How about that? Three thousand got kind of excited about higher values in life. When the crisis is really on, watch people get religion. They sensed, as you can only when the chips are down, the need for higher aid, be they merchant, criminal, or ball player.
Well, I’ll never forget that church service conducted by a marvelous Protestant chaplain. I don’t even know what faith he represented. But bless his heart, he was honest and sincere, and he came straight to the point. I’ll never forget that calm day; the water was almost like glass, and we were sitting out there, 3,000 strong, singing that opening song, “Abide With Me, ‘Tis Eventide.” Can you imagine a chorus of 3,000 male soldiers letting their souls go, probably in many cases for the first time in their lives. Can you imagine what that sounds like? And you could even hear other ships echoing the same type of activity. There was a brief opening prayer, and then the chaplain got as serious as I’ve ever seen a man.
He said, “Men, I’m not going to kid you tonight. You’ve been training for the last year for what you’re going to do tomorrow, and you know full well what’s before you. Army statistics tell us that in an invasion like you’re going to experience tomorrow morning, a lot of you aren’t going to make it. We’ve got to pay a price to get this island.” He said, “If our records are accurate, half of you will lay your lives down sometime before 8:00 tomorrow morning. What I’m trying to say, men, is that one-half of you will be standing before your Maker tomorrow morning at 8:00. Are you ready?”
Well now, what would you say, young people? I was 18 years old at the time. If someone said, “Tomorrow morning at 8:00 you’re giving an accounting to the Savior for your life and your attitude and your activity,” how would you feel? There I was, sitting out there thinking of all my great and glorious ball days. See how insignificant they appear to be all of a sudden? Contracts and fame and fortune—a lot of nonsense, aren’t they, when you get right down to what really counts?
And for the first time I wanted to know something about the validity of religion. Does God really live? Why am I out here? Why should I take the life of a person I’ve never even seen before? Thousands of questions like that started to rush through my mind. Why? Why? Why? And it’s questions like that we ought to ask right now. Why do we do any of the things we’re doing in this existence of ours?

Even Maricar Mendoza, who admits she’s somewhat shy, didn’t hesitate to raise her hand when her teacher one day asked who in the class wasn’t Catholic. A discussion of religion was going on, and Maricar felt she had to speak up. “I said, ‘Ma’am, I’m a Mormon.’ I explained to her what our church is, and I was able to discuss a lot of things such as latter-day prophets, Joseph Smith, and the plan of salvation,” she says.
Maricar still considers herself shy. But she’s glad she spoke up.

In this next situation, Janet, as I will call her, was involved in serious transgression. After discovering that she was expecting a child out of wedlock, her bishop referred her to LDS Social Services. Instead of being condemned by staff personnel as she had feared, she found love and understanding—the love and understanding that she needed to help her repent. With the help of her bishop and the agency, she began to seek the Lord’s forgiveness. She was introduced to foster parents who lovingly accepted her into their home. She attended church regularly and studied the gospel. An unwed parents group sponsored by the Church helped her to realize the magnitude of her transgression and to resolve to start a new life. She began to more fully understand herself and her relationship to her Father in heaven.
“I went through an awful lot,” she recalled. “But I felt like such a load was lifted by being able to share the burden with those who understood. I’m so grateful for all the help I received from my Heavenly Father.”

Like Deborah, Francisca puts her trust in the Lord.
Francisca is from Ghana. She joined the Church after she and her twin brother were adopted by a family in Idaho. She loves going to youth activities, but sometimes Francisca finds herself asking God if she truly belongs.
“I struggle to find my place in this world,” Francisca says. “But when I need help most, Jesus Christ is there to help me find my way. Jesus Christ has helped me through my struggles and has helped me find peace and comfort in my life. I know this Church is true, and I love my Savior who died for us.”
Both Deborah and Francisca are examples of steadfast faith in Jesus Christ.

Last year was a scary time for me. I had just entered Young Women, and I was going to attend a new ward. I worried that I wouldn’t make any friends, and since I was a new member of the Church, I didn’t understand much about Young Women.
I remember the first day I went to Young Women in my new ward. I went to opening exercises and sat down by myself because I didn’t know anyone. This made me feel uneasy and alone. Then I looked up, and there was a young woman standing in front of me. She said, “Hello, Cecilia” and sat down next to me. This made me feel great, and I wasn’t scared anymore.
It was from her example that I learned what fellowshipping is all about. This has helped me to reach out to other new or lonely people who need their spirits lifted.

I recall attending the funeral of an older man who had taken his life. His wife had died years earlier, and as his health declined, he felt he had less and less of a reason to live. Gradually he found himself confined to the four walls of his home. A semi-invalid, he was unable to visit friends or go grocery shopping. His food was delivered to his door. He missed going to church, missed regular fellowship with other members of his priesthood quorum.
Although he wasn’t able to get about, the doctor assured him he could live many more years. “You neither smoke nor drink,” the doctor said. “You’ve taken good care of yourself. Other than the fact that you’re confined to your house and wheelchair, I give you a clean bill of health.”
While the doctor was trying to be encouraging, the man felt discouraged. This good brother felt his earthly life no longer had any value, and he wanted to join his beloved wife in the spirit world. The more he thought about death, the more appealing it became to him. He had been a faithful member of the Church all his life; he had served two missions and had been diligent in several leadership positions at different times in his life. But as he thought about the release he would find through death, his mind became confused. He obviously concluded that taking his own life would solve his problems.
I visited with the family after the funeral. As you might expect, they were greatly disturbed by what their father and grandfather had done. Their feelings ranged from grief to anger to guilt. “I should have noticed how depressed he was,” one daughter said. “Then I could have helped him and prevented this.”
One son spoke rather harshly. “I never thought my father was a stupid man. But what can you say about this? If he loved us, he would never have done such a thing!”
A comment by the youngest son captured the despair they all felt: “There is no hope for dad now, is there,” he said. It was more a statement than a question. “All the good things he did throughout his life don’t matter anymore. Now that he’s taken his life, he will be in the telestial kingdom throughout eternity.” Then he wept.