Gospel Story Finder

For Church members, the real value and legacy in family history lies in the saving ordinances of the temple. For example, Brother Nauta said that the greatest rewards come in doing temple work for his own family that he has discovered thanks to the indexes produced by Family Search volunteers. “There is a distinct difference … in doing the work for family I know or did the research for,” he said. “I kind of know them because I’ve spent time with them, researching them, learning about who they were.”

Once while the Rogers were out of town on vacation, Charles and Lucie Didier wall-papered the room of teenager Elizabeth Rogers—as a surprise. Elizabeth was overwhelmed.

Raymond and Gwen Petersen of Wyoming, USA, have served four missions. Their leaving on their second mission—to Samoa for the second time—was initially a challenge for their children, who didn’t understand why their parents needed to serve another mission.
The family quickly realized what great blessings came from their service. “They had all prospered!” says Sister Petersen. “One couple who had been unable to have children were blessed with a baby boy, another had a miraculous healing from cancer, another with a struggling child saw great progress, and others had their best year in business.”
Their hard work has left a trail of faith through their family line. “We have four grandsons on missions right now who tell us we were their inspiration to go,” says Sister Petersen. “What could be more rewarding than that?”

When I was just barely 17, I moved to San Francisco, California, USA, to go to art school. I dreamed of becoming an illustrator for Disney.
At college, I learned a lot more than art. I learned about who I was to my Heavenly Father. I wasn’t at home anymore. My parents weren’t waking me up to take me to church every Sunday. No one would know whether or not I was living the gospel. But I knew I needed Him. I looked up The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in a phonebook. When I walked into the Church building and heard “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, no. 136) being played, it felt like home. I began to realize what the gospel meant to me and what I really wanted.
At that point, I wanted to involve my Heavenly Father in everything I did. For example, I started to ask Him what He thought about my career plans and where I should be. As I prayed and asked these questions, I began to feel that I needed to be somewhere else.
I was a little heartbroken. I had set all of my dreams and my focus on my plan. I thought I knew exactly where I would go and what I would do. But now, I knew I wanted the Lord to be number one in my life, and that meant more to me than anything else. Even though I knew that my path may be different from what I had pictured, I had felt His love for me, and I trusted in His wisdom.
I was led to Brigham Young University–Idaho and Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, to finish my illustration degrees. Just before graduating, I received an internship at a local game studio. About a year later, after I was hired full-time, the studio was unexpectedly bought by Disney, which brought new opportunities and growth.
When you let go of what you think you need to have, the Lord will bless you at the right time with what will truly make you happy. You never know where the Lord is going to take you. Just let go, and listen.

The Doll Shop Downstairs*, by Yona Zeldis McDonough, illustrated by Heather Maione. Anna and her sisters enjoy playing with the dolls waiting to be fixed in their father’s doll repair shop. When the shop is in danger of going out of business because of World War I, Anna looks for a way to get her family through the hard times.

Lucy Mack Smith spoke in general conference in 1845, after all of the Book of Mormon witnesses in her family had died of illness or been killed. She told a story from her son Samuel’s first mission.

Samuel, one of the Eight Witnesses, visited the home of Rhoda Greene, whose husband was on a mission for another church. Samuel asked Rhoda if she would like a book. “It is a Book of Mormon that my Brother Joseph translated from plates out of the ground,” he explained.

Rhoda accepted a copy of the book to read and show her husband. When Samuel returned later, Rhoda told him her husband had no interest, and she could not buy the book. Sad, Samuel took the book and began to leave. Rhoda later told Lucy that Samuel then paused and looked at her. “She never saw a man look so,” Lucy said in her conference talk. “She knew that he had the Spirit of God.”

“The Spirit forbids me taking this book,” Samuel told Rhoda, who knelt and asked Samuel to pray with her. She kept the book, read it, and received a testimony of it. So, eventually, did her husband. They chose to abide by its precepts throughout their lives.

“And thus the work began,” Lucy testified, “and then it spread like a mustard seed.”10

At church, Trent heard about some families that needed help for Christmas. They didn’t have money to buy presents. Trent wanted to help them have a happy Christmas! He wanted to help them, like Jesus would.
When they got home from church, Trent told Mom his idea. “I want to make a box. All of us can put a little money in it. Then we can give the money to people who need it.”
“I think that’s a great idea!” Mom said.
Trent wrapped an empty shoebox in bright paper. He cut a hole in the lid. Then he dropped in three coins. Plunk, plunk, plunk. It wasn’t very much, but it was all he had.
Then his brother and sister put in their coins too. Now they had more coins.
That night Trent prayed that Heavenly Father could help him buy presents for the other families. He wanted to help lots of people.
The next day, Trent’s aunt came to visit. He told her his plan. She wanted to help too! She dropped some coins in the Christmas box.
Soon friends and neighbors learned about Trent’s Christmas box. Each one said, “I can give a little too.” They handed Trent jars of coins they had saved up. Trent and his family were so happy. Trent loved adding the coins to the box.
Finally the box was full. It was heavy. Mom said there was enough money to help four families! Trent’s eyes got big. Heavenly Father had helped him. And now Trent could help lots of people. Together, everyone’s little coins made a big difference!

I recently moved from the Fair Oaks California Stake to Alabama. Never before had I realized just how many people haven’t heard of the gospel. I was very active in the Church in California, and doing missionary work seemed very easy, since I had so many other LDS youth there to help me out. Missionary work is hard here and sometimes very discouraging. I am the only Latter-day Saint in my school, or in town for that matter, and many people find the gospel confusing, hard to accept, or both. I want you to know that I am truly grateful to the New Era and have found it to be a lot of help with my missionary work.
Teri Lee RoseTuskegee, Alabama

After my baptism, we started praying together again as a family, and I began teaching them about what I was learning. Eventually, Okoro asked to meet with the missionaries again. He embraced their teachings, read the Book of Mormon, and prayed about it. He received the same answer I had, and he also asked to be baptized. At last, our whole family was united in our forever Church.

For nineteen years following the death of President Smith, Joseph served in the administration of President David O. McKay. His boyhood teacher was now the leader of the Church. President and Sister Emma Ray Riggs McKay represented to Joseph the same great example of love for each other and the gospel that became legendary in the Church. “He was always loving, considerate, and courteous,” he remembers. When the prophet was near death, Elder Anderson recalls visiting him in his apartment and finding him on the couch holding hands with his sweetheart. “I asked Sister McKay how she was, and she said, ‘I am all right, but am concerned about my boy.’ I said, ‘He is still your boy, is he?’ She answered quickly, ‘He surely is.’ To this said, ‘He is the best, is he not?’ and she answered, ‘Most certainly.’”

I am frequently asked how I can be cheerful as an unmarried member of a church and culture that emphasize marriage. I’ll tell you what I have done.
My sister Christine and I determined at a young age that we would certainly marry one day, and in the meantime we would live in a manner that would make us more well-rounded and well-developed people. I am so grateful we made that plan—a plan that is tied to our desire to do what we believe God hopes for us. It was, at its core, a plan that relied on listening to the promptings of the Spirit.
My sister married 10 years ago and has two wonderful children. She earned a PhD and makes significant contributions to the Church and to her community. I continue to live by our plan, and I believe that is what God wants me to do. I consistently check in on whether what I’m doing is right—if my goals in life match the larger goal of discipleship to the Savior. I work to ensure that my pursuits and endeavors, both spiritual and secular, lead me to better understand my role as a daughter of God.

In May 2013 the Church, through its humanitarian arm Latter-day Saint Charities, donated more than one million pounds of food to Feeding America, the largest nonprofit hunger-relief organization in the United States. The donation included canned goods such as fruits, vegetables, and beans, which will be distributed to families in need by various community pantries and shelters across the United States.
Bob Aiken, president and chief executive officer of Feeding America, said the donation would provide some 625,000 meals.

Many times I have puzzled over why I should be called as an Apostle and then as the President of the Quorum of the Twelve in spite of having come from a home where the father could be termed as less active. I am not the only member of the Twelve who fits that description.
Finally I could see and understand that it may have been because of that circumstance that I was called. And I could understand why in all that we do in the Church, we need to provide the way, as leaders, for parents and children to have time together as families. Priesthood leaders must be careful to make the Church family-friendly.
There are many things about living the gospel of Jesus Christ that cannot be measured by that which is counted or charted in records of attendance. We busy ourselves with buildings and budgets and programs and procedures. In so doing, it is possible to overlook the very spirit of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Too often someone comes to me and says, “President Packer, wouldn’t it be nice if … ?”
I usually stop them and say no, because I suspect that what follows will be a new activity or program that is going to add a burden of time and financial means on the family.

In June 1971, Dr. Nelson received a phone call from President N. Eldon Tanner asking if he could come to his office. He went at once and found that President Harold B. Lee was also there. (President Joseph Fielding Smith was not well that day.) President Lee and President Tanner indicated that they would like him to serve as head of the Sunday School organization of the Church, if it wouldn’t take him away from his work as a surgeon.
When he had recovered from the shock, Dr. Nelson responded by saying that he would accept any call from the Lord even if he had to leave his medical practice. But they insisted that they wanted him to accept the calling only if he could continue his work as a surgeon as well. Thus he entered upon more than eight years of service as general president of the Sunday School.

6 In May, Sidney Rigdon, Newel K. Whitney, and the Prophet Joseph started back to Kirtland, Ohio. Near New Albany, Indiana, the horses pulling their wagon became frightened and bolted.
7 Joseph jumped out of the wagon unhurt, but Bishop Whitney caught his foot in a wheel and broke his leg and foot in several places.
8 Sidney Rigdon went on to Kirtland, but the Prophet stayed with Bishop Whitney for four weeks while he recuperated.
9 One day during that time, Joseph Smith ate something poisonous. When Bishop Whitney gave him a blessing of health, the Prophet was instantly healed. Soon they, too, continued on to Kirtland.

At present, Dylann is a freshman at Brigham Young University on a full-ride scholarship, majoring in electrical engineering. She is also a member of the Y’s top-ranked women’s volleyball team.
Volleyball? I do a quick double take. Now why would a high school basketball superstar like Dylann Duncan decide to switch sports?
“My height isn’t outstanding for basketball anymore,” she points out, smiling. Besides, she was ready for a new challenge and Dylann liked Coach Elaine Michaelis and her program. “Anyway,” Dylann laughs, “volleyball is a lot more fun.” Typical Dylann.

I was at Manti, Utah, some years ago. As we came out of the Saturday night leadership meeting, there was a heavy snowstorm. As we drove to the home of the stake president, he stopped his car and turned back to the temple hill. There the lighted temple was standing majestically. We sat there in silence for a few moments, inspired by the sight of that beautiful, sacred place. He said, “You know, Brother Lee, that temple is never more beautiful than in times of a dense fog or in times of a heavy, severe storm.”

Just so, never is the gospel of Jesus Christ more beautiful than in times of intense need, or in times of a severe storm within us as individuals, or in times of confusion and turmoil.

William Borrowman never forgave his son for joining the Church. He made sure that the family members never referred to John as brother or uncle. However, John’s stepmother, Helen, corresponded with John through the years. In 1857 she wrote to tell him that his father had died and that he had directed that John be given—as his total inheritance—one halfpenny (the equivalent of a nickel in American coin).

Elder David Rawls and his companion, Elder Rahrick, stood at the door of the small LDS meetinghouse in Tokyo, Japan, and waited.
“What if he doesn’t come?” Elder Rahrick asked.
“He’ll come.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“Then he won’t.”
“You’re not much help, you know.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll come,” David said.
“I already wrote my folks and told them we were going to have a baptism, so if he doesn’t come, what’ll I do?”
“Tell them he didn’t come.”
“You don’t know my dad. He wants results.”
“Go see how close to being full the font is, okay? That’ll give you something to do.”
Elder Rahrick started off and then stopped and turned around. “He’d better come, that’s all I can say. I wrote my girlfriend about the baptism too.”
“Go check the font, will you?”
“All right, but if he doesn’t come, it won’t matter if the font is full or not, will it?”
David watched as Elder Rahrick went down the hall of the church to the baptismal font. They were about as different as two people could be. David couldn’t understand how some guy just off the plane thought he knew more about missionary work than he did.
It was a tough mission with long hours, a difficult language to learn, and few converts, and no California beach boy was going to change it in a day. Don’t let him get to you, he thought. This is a day of celebration, because today the hurt will go away.
Ever since he was a little boy, he had in his mind the image of being on his mission, standing in the water, baptizing someone. But somehow the reality had been that, even though he’d worked hard, he’d had no baptisms. Of course there had been people he’d taught who eventually were baptized, but always just after he was transferred.
His parents had always told him not to worry, that he should just do his best. And he had. He worked hard and lived mission rules and prayed, but still no baptisms came.
As time slipped by, he thought about what it would be like, after his mission, talking with his friends from high school, guys he’d played basketball with, guys who thrived on competition. He knew they’d ask how many baptisms he’d had on his mission. From letters they’d written, he already knew one of his friends had 30 baptisms.
And he had none.
“Don’t let it get you down,” his father had written. “The important thing is that you are serving with all your heart, mind, and strength. We couldn’t be more proud of you than we are.”
David knew his father was right, but still, he wanted at least once on his mission, to stand in the baptismal font with someone he’d taught, and raise his right arm to the square, and actually perform the baptismal ordinance. If for no other reason, just to make his boyhood dream come true.
Just when it seemed that it would never happen, four weeks before his release from the mission field, they met Katsutoshi Tanaka, a white-haired retired gardener, a gentle man, a widower, who lived in a small apartment in the city. He seemed to have been waiting for them. Each time they came to give him a missionary lesson, he was there, well prepared, having read the pamphlets they’d given him. When he attended church, the members seemed drawn to him and they welcomed him openly.
Of course Elder Rahrick, David’s companion, with the confidence that comes from not knowing very much, had attributed their success to his having come into the mission field. “You see what happens when you plan your work and work your plan?” he told David once after an especially good discussion with Brother Tanaka. That really grated on David’s nerves. You have so much to learn, Elder, he thought.
When it became apparent that Brother Tanaka was actually going to be baptized, Elder Rahrick asked, “How about if I baptize him?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he had said. In David’s mind though there wasn’t much to talk about. He was the senior companion, about to go home, having gone his mission never having fulfilled his dream of baptizing someone in the mission field. Elder Rahrick would have plenty of chances later on.
Elder Rahrick returned from down the hall. “The font’s almost full, but I don’t know where to turn off the water, and the custodian’s gone. Would you do it for me?”
David nodded his head and went back to the baptismal font. He looked at the font now full of water. It looked so beautiful. He was so grateful that Brother Tanaka had accepted the gospel. It had been so hard to go on without any apparent success, with mission newsletters telling of the baptisms of others when he was always two weeks too late or one week too early.
At first he had thought it was punishment from God, that for some reason he wasn’t good enough to have baptisms. He talked to his mission president about it, who said, “Elder, you’re one of the best missionaries I’ve got. We’re not out here to have a contest with numbers. I’m sorry that transfers have caused you to miss out on some baptisms, but wherever you’ve served, people’s lives have been blessed. Do you know how many converts sing your praises for having contacted them?”
Even so, it had been difficult to take. Sometimes at night, when he couldn’t sleep, he knelt beside his bed and poured out his heart in prayer, and from those silent vigils strength and commitment had come—but no baptisms.
David knew he was stronger than he would have been if it had been easy. He had learned not to give up and had mastered the ability to work hard even when he was discouraged.
Eventually there came a time in his mission, when he knew he could take whatever happened and it wouldn’t affect how hard he worked, or how committed he was, or how much faith he had in Father in Heaven.
Shortly after that, they found Brother Tanaka.
He sat down to gaze at the now nearly full font. It was beautiful to see. My mission is just about over, he thought with a rush of sadness. I’ve come to the end of things.
He’d been reading the book of John in the New Testament, and this morning he’d read the words of the Savior to his Apostles given his last few days upon the earth. David sensed a reluctance on the part of the Savior to leave these men to themselves, a concern that they may have not learned enough to carry on, and a genuine affection for those who had stood by him during those past three years of his ministry.
The Savior knew their weaknesses, David thought, and yet he still loved them. And he encouraged them to have love for each other. “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35).
And now I go and leave Elder Rahrick here to carry on. Have I shown him the same kind of love the Savior did his Apostles? It hasn’t been easy for me with Elder Rahrick. Maybe because I’m about to leave and he’s just come. We seem worlds apart at times. He’s so caught up with himself; whatever good he does, he does it with the idea in mind of how impressed the people back home will be when they hear about it.
If I can show love to Elder Rahrick, he thought, I can show love to anybody. Getting along with a wife will be a breeze compared to this.
David got up and turned off the water, and suddenly it struck him that in one week he would be back home in Arizona, getting ready to start college again, concerned mainly about himself again. For an instant, more than anything in the world, he wanted to stay where he was and not go home. It had taken so long to get where he was now, willing and able to devote his entire self to the work, and now they were going to tell him they didn’t need him anymore. It didn’t make sense.
Oh, Father in Heaven, he thought, please help me get through these changes in my life.
Elder Rahrick came back to see him. “No sign of Brother Tanaka yet. He’d better come, that’s all I can say.”
David stared at Elder Rahrick, who looked to be about 17 years old. “Elder,” David said, “we haven’t always gotten along, have we?”
“Oh, it hasn’t been that bad.”
“I just want you to know I love you.”
Elder Rahrick got red in the face. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“I know we’re supposed to say that, but still, it really seems weird to me.”
“I know, but you’ll get used to it. Jesus loved the men who served with him. We should do the same.”
“I suppose. I’ll go back and see if Brother Tanaka is coming.”
David watched him go. He’s so young, David thought, so inexperienced. What if he goes his mission without any baptisms? Will he be able to stand it?
David suddenly realized he really did love Elder Rahrick. Beyond his bluster was a scared young man, as he himself had once been, in a strange country with a strange language and customs. Have I taught him enough? Is he ready to carry on as a senior companion after I leave?
What was it like for the Savior, he thought, to leave the men he loved, his beloved Apostles? Impetuous Peter, always quick to act. John, gentle, sensitive. Each one with their flaws and strengths.
My gift to this mission is Elder Rahrick, he thought. I’ve got to do all I can to help him.
Elder Rahrick, he thought, you’ve complained about the way we live as if it’s my fault we sleep on floor mats and eat raw fish. You’ve told me that if I were only closer to the Spirit, people would come to us and ask to be baptized. But none of that matters. I think I thought the same things too.
I love you, Elder Rahrick. Carry on the work when I’m gone. You will carry a part of me with you always, like it or not. I am a part of you, and you of me. And after our missions we will someday meet and shake hands and introduce our families and talk about the good times.
David returned to where Elder Rahrick was waiting at the door. “Elder Rahrick, I’ve been thinking. How would you like to baptize Brother Tanaka?”
Elder Rahrick got a big grin on his face. “That’d be great! Do you suppose we could get some pictures of me and Brother Tanaka in our baptismal clothes? I want to send them back home to my parents and my girlfriend.”
“We can take pictures before, but not during the service itself.”
“Great. This is going to be terrific! How about if I go find some baptismal clothes that’ll fit me?”
“Sure, fine.”
David watched him go. He was a little disappointed in Elder Rahrick for not realizing what a sacrifice it was for him to give up his last chance to fulfill his boyhood dream of performing a baptism in the mission field. Sometime, Elder, he thought, when you come to the end of your mission, you’ll understand how much I cared for you.
Just then the thought flashed into his mind, as if the Savior were saying that perhaps someday David would understand how much the Savior loved him.
This is a gospel of love, David thought.
Just then Brother Tanaka turned up the walk to the chapel.
Thank you, Father in Heaven, David thought. This will be a day I will always remember.
And it was.

During my high school years, I played football and had a good friend named Ryan. I frequently offered him rides home from practice. Early one morning in February of 2003, my senior year, I was at school getting help from my math teacher. A girl walked in the door and announced the death of my friend Ryan. I was astonished and almost didn’t believe the words I had just heard. A good friend of mine, whom I had just talked to a week before, was now dead.
I made the decision to miss school the next week and attend the funeral services. Upon arriving, I noticed that the building was very beautiful and bore the logo of the church to which it belonged—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The moment I walked in the door, I felt something different: a sense of peace, joy, and happiness—feelings that are not typically experienced at a funeral. As the services progressed, I noticed a new vocabulary, one that I had never before heard. The words gospel and Atonement entered into my mind for the first time. It was something new and unheard-of but, oddly enough, familiar. I listened attentively as Ryan’s mom spoke, and tears came to my eyes. Something was telling me that this “plan of salvation,” which she was speaking about, was true. I felt that the people in this chapel had something in their lives that I did not, and for some reason, I felt a desire to get it.
Now, I was not completely oblivious to Mormons. I grew up in Mesa, Arizona, where members of the Church come in great abundance. I knew two things for sure: first, many of my friends were members of the Church, and second, Church members believed in something called the Book of Mormon. I had a newfound desire to get my hands on this book and to find out what this religion was all about.