Gospel Story Finder

We went on a hike with our Scoutmaster last summer, and he reserved one night for each of us to be alone and talk to our Father in Heaven. He told us we could pray to him, just like Joseph Smith did, and get an answer. The next morning we were back on the trail again, with our Scoutmaster urging us over “just one more hill,” and “just around the next bend,” and repeating his slogans like, “When you see a man on a mountaintop, remember he didn’t fall there,” or, “Make your mind tell your body what to do. Don’t let your body tell your mind what to do.” One of the best things about our Scoutmaster is that he’s not afraid to let us see him make a mistake or two. It lets us know he understands when we flub it. One time we lined two maps up crookedly and ended up climbing the mountain next to King’s Peak. We still laugh about that, and we named the mountain “Troop 112’s Mistake”. But the thing I appreciate the most about our Scoutmaster is that he’s my dad. For more than 10 years now I’ve been sharing him with three older brothers, a younger sister, and a troop of Scouts. But that’s not hard to do because my dad has always saved part of himself for me. That’s why he’s the best Scoutmaster I know.

When Elder McKay’s busy calling made it necessary for him to retire, he worried because all the money had not yet been raised for a larger building. Then, on his last day of school, he was suddenly called to a meeting in Salt Lake City.
Student: Mr. McKay, we bought you these books by Charles Dickens as a farewell present.
David: This means so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t be here for the last day.
That night when he returned home to attend a reception for school board members, he was surprised to find 300 students and other friends gathered in the study hall.
Student: Surprise! We’re happy to announce that the rest of the money for a larger school building has been donated. Here are checks and letters from some of your friends.
Student: To Elder David O. McKay, a man we love, admire, and respect!

And that brings me to my wife, Elisa. I remember the first time I met her. As a favor to a friend, I had gone to her home to pick up her sister, Frances. Elisa opened the door, and at least for me, it was love at first sight.
I think she must have felt something too, for the first words I ever remember her saying were, “I knew who you was.”
Elisa was an English major.
To this day I still cherish those five words as some of the most beautiful in human language.
She loved to play tennis and had a lightning serve. I tried to play tennis with her, but I finally quit after coming to the realization that I couldn’t hit what I couldn’t see.
She was my strength and my joy. Because of her, I am a better man, husband, and father. We married, had eight children, and walked together through 65 years of life.
I owe more to my wife than I can possibly express. I don’t know if there ever was a perfect marriage, but, from my perspective, I think ours was.

I couldn’t believe I had actually made it. I stood at the entrance to the Sacred Grove, about to enter for the first time. I had always been taught that the Sacred Grove is where Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared after the young Joseph Smith had offered his heart in prayer to God. But I wondered: Was it really true? Did They really appear to Joseph? I had always believed it was true, but I wanted to know for sure.
I slowly walked into the grove and was struck by its beauty. The melody to “Joseph Smith’s First Prayer” (Hymns, no. 26) began playing in my mind. Sitting on a bench, I saw rays of sunshine piercing through the trees. The Holy Ghost brought a calm witness that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ had truly appeared to Joseph Smith.
I got up, looking for a place to be alone. When I found one, I knelt down and offered my gratitude to the Lord for the witness I had just received. I don’t know how long I prayed or if anybody saw me, but I do know that I was heard by the Lord.
I arose from my prayer with new life. My testimony had been strengthened, and I was filled with love for the restored gospel. I hadn’t heard a booming voice or felt a burning in my bosom, but an overwhelming peace and assurance had come over me.
I longed to stay. But I left the safety of that sanctuary with the assurance that God hears and answers prayers and that any place I kneel can become sacred to me.

Consider Bill, a nineteen-year-old student who had a difficult time deciding whether to go on a mission or continue his studies. Bill’s parents were pressuring him to go, he said, but his best friend, a nonmember, was testily pulling for him to stay and continue to room with him at school. “Look,” said Bill’s Sunday School teacher, “do you know exactly what your role as a missionary would be and what the result of either your going or not going might be?”
After closer examination it became clear that Bill’s perception of missionary life was largely inaccurate. He thought that the drudgery of tracting and the door-slamming he might encounter would far outweigh the genuine experiences he would have, the joy he would see, and the friends he would make. And Bill’s decision to go or not to go would have eternal consequences. (See “D.”) Rewards or punishment result from any decision, regardless of how small it may seem. That is, the hypothesis that we “become what we do” is true. But in a sense, we also unbecome what we don’t do.
Bill had never thought of his mission call this way. Furthermore, he was asked if the motivation of his parents was selfish. He answered, “No, probably not.” Then Bill saw that the motivation of his roommate was selfish. The roommate simply didn’t understand what this could mean for Bill, let alone what Bill could do for others.
Asking Bill these specific questions—what is the role you are assuming, who wants you to do it, and, furthermore, what are the consequences if you comply or don’t comply—made the cobwebs disappear. He was then in a position to decide what he wanted to do.
Thus, Bill became a self-motivator, because he understood his own attitudes about what he should or should not do. He also knew which choice would help him to fulfill his responsibilities and accomplish his objectives.
Bill acquired a new set of values and expectations about his own behavior and abilities, about the nature of the Church, and about the prerequisites for an enlarging role in it. He began to develop a self identity that included the acceptance of legitimate authority and compliance with it. For others this could easily appear to be unreasonable, even silly or naive. Bill’s roommate did not understand.

The Prophet Joseph was truly blessed with the ability to inspire faith. One bright morning Joseph walked up to John E. Page and said, “Brother John, the Lord is calling you on a mission to Canada.”
John E. Page was rather astonished and said, “Why, Brother Joseph, I can’t go on a mission to Canada. I don’t even have a coat to wear.”
The Prophet Joseph took his own coat from his back, handed it to John Page, and said, “Here, John, wear this, and the Lord will bless you.” Brother Page took the coat, went to Canada, and in two years walked 5,000 miles and baptized 600 souls, because he trusted in the words of a prophet of God.3

We envision your families gathered around the television or online to watch the proceedings of general conference at home. An alert mother and father sent me a copy of a picture they took at conference time. They observed the reaction of their then 18-month-old son, who recognized the features and voice of the speaker. The child started to throw kisses toward the TV. He wanted to come closer. So his thoughtful older sister quickly hoisted her little brother on her shoulders and brought him closer. Here is that photograph.
Yes, the image on the TV is mine, and those children are our grandchildren. In a few years this boy will be an elder endowed in the temple and ready for his mission. Later he will be sealed to an eternal companion of his choice. Can you see him one day as a husband and father, with children of his own? And one day he will say farewell to his grandfathers, with a sure knowledge that death is part of life.

President Kimball and some other Church leaders traveled to Denmark for an area conference.
While there, they visited a cathedral to see Thorvaldsen’s original famous sculpture, the Christus.
President Kimball: Isn’t it beautiful?
In the cathedral stood a statue of Peter holding a large set of keys.
President Kimball turned to a nearby caretaker to explain.
President Kimball: The keys of priesthood authority that Peter held as President of the Church I now hold as President of the Church in this dispensation.
President Kimball: Every day you are near Apostles in stone, but today you are in the presence of living Apostles.
President Kimball presented the man with a Danish Book of Mormon and bore his testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith.
The man was moved to tears.
Caretaker: Today I have been in the presence of servants of God.
President Kimball never feared to share his witness of the gospel and bear his testimony to people around the world.

I still had a long way to go to gain a better understanding of Heavenly Father’s concern for His children, but from time to time in my life I had other spiritual experiences. I tried to read all the books about God that I could find. I went to many different churches. But not until about eighteen years later, when the elders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on my door, did I begin to really understand. I came to know our Heavenly Father, how to make a covenant with Him, and how to receive the right to speak with Him always. I learned to feel accepted and welcomed by Him.

“You’re going to have to work every other Sunday.” My stomach churned like it was suddenly filled with rocks. Up until now, I’d only had to work after school and on Saturdays as a bagger. I’d never been faced with working on Sundays.
I had been so excited earlier in the day when my boss told me he was finally promoting me to checker; no more gathering carts in the icy, slushy grocery store parking lot. Nebraska winters were cold. But now that he was standing in front of the big calendar in the break room filling out my new work schedule, dread tightened my throat. I was speechless. He began putting my name in the squares for every other Sunday: “Amy, 12–6. Amy, 12–6.”
In the past few months I’d asked my boss countless times if there was an opening for a checker yet, and I’d worked really hard to be the one chosen for the position now that the opening had come. The checkers got to stay in the warm store, their shoes stayed dry, and they made a lot more money than the baggers did.
My boss put my name in a few weekday squares and said, “Congratulations, you’ve earned this! Enjoy your last day as a bagger,” then left to attend to other business. I walked out of the break room and back to my post at the end of the check-out counter and began putting bread, eggs, and apples in plastic bags as the checker sent them my way on the black conveyer belt. I knew what I should have done, but I hadn’t had the courage to do it. Never before had what I wanted been so at odds with what was right.
I tried to ignore those rocks in my stomach, but they just got heavier as my shift went on. In Young Women we’d learned about keeping the Sabbath day holy plenty of times, and I’d always thought it was one of the easiest commandments—until now.
Would it matter that much if I worked on Sundays? It was only every other Sunday. But my conscience tugged at me. Surely it’s okay to work on the Sabbath if your job requires it. I had to have a job.
“You can find another job,” it piped up again. “Yeah, but for half the money,” I mumbled, trying to shut my conscience up once and for all. “What’s more important, keeping the Sabbath day holy, or money?” it replied. I rolled my eyes at my conscience, knowing it was right. I had a choice to make.
My shift dragged on. Finally, out in the cold parking lot trying to free a grocery cart that had frozen into a snow bank, I wondered how I’d feel in the bright cozy store checking groceries on a Sunday. My heart sank at the thought, and I knew what I had to do.
The rocks bumped around my insides as I went looking for my boss on my next break. “Choose the right. Choose the right,” I chanted to myself under my breath, trying to work up the courage to face him.
I was terrified to talk to him about it. Would he be angry? I imagined him yelling, “You’ve bugged me for so long and now you’re turning down the promotion?!” Maybe he’d make fun of me: “Hey, I think I’ll start a religion that says you only have to work on Wednesdays!” Or even worse, maybe he’d say nothing and just look at me with annoyance and disgust.
“I can’t take the promotion, Mr. Johnson,” I began, after I’d asked him if I could talk with him for a minute in the break room. “I can’t work on Sundays because of my beliefs.” I was talking more to my shoes than to him, but I looked up when he didn’t reply for a while. He was just staring at me thinking.
Right then I realized that no matter what he was thinking, and no matter what he would say next, the rocks were gone. And was that my conscience … cheering? I felt better than I had all day as my boss stood there wondering what to do with me.
He folded his arms and sighed, “All right, I won’t make you work on Sundays since it’s for church. The other checkers want Sundays off too, but they just want to party.”
I thanked him as he crossed my name off the Sunday squares. He gave me a few more Saturday shifts instead, then left.
I floated through the rest of my last day as a bagger.
“And behold, all that he requires of you is to keep his commandments; … therefore, if ye do keep his commandments he doth bless you and prosper you” (Mosiah 2:22).
I was blessed that day because I chose to keep the fourth commandment. I’d had the immediate blessing of a lightened spirit and a clear conscience, and then the Lord softened my boss’s heart right when I needed it. Even if my boss had been a mean man and fired me on the spot, I know that the Lord would have blessed me in other ways. Maybe He would have helped me find a new job. I’ll never know. But I do know without a doubt that no matter what, He would have taken care of me because I “chose the right” that cold winter afternoon.

When Harold B. Lee was President of the Church, he and his wife were visiting missionaries across the country.
Harold: How are you doing, elders?
Elders: Wonderful. Thank you for visiting us.
Harold: It’s my pleasure. You’re doing great work out here.
Before their trip was finished, President Lee felt impressed to return home.
Harold: I’m not feeling very well. I think we should go home as quickly as possible.
Joan: I think so, too. We’ll just have to miss the rest of our appointments.
President Lee and his wife were soon on an airplane headed for Utah. During the flight, he thought he felt someone touch him.
Harold: Did someone just touch my head?
Joan: I didn’t touch you.
President Lee looked up, but no one was there. Later, President Lee felt hands on his head again. He knew that he was being blessed by angels, but he didn’t know why.
When they arrived home, President Lee was feeling worse.
Joan: I’ll call the doctor.
President Lee went to the hospital. Doctors found that an ulcer inside his body was bleeding badly. If he had started bleeding on the airplane, he could have died.
During general conference, President Lee told the members about his experience.
Harold: I know that there are divine powers that reach out when all other help is not available. Yes, I know that there are such powers.

Imagine waking up to the smell of smoke, the sound of screams and gunshots, the sights of looting and beating. Imagine racially inspired violence so dangerous that schools close and curfews are imposed for days.
This tragic scenario might seem like something you’d see in a movie—the kind your parents and leaders would probably recommend you avoid—but during late April and early May this year LDS youth in the Los Angeles area actually lived it. They saw the rioting. They knew people who looted. They watched familiar buildings burn to the ground.
Yet even while the ashes were still smoldering, the Young Women of the Los Angeles area were busy putting the finishing touches on a long-planned multistake conference that would unite nearly 500 LDS young women of various ethnic backgrounds and affirm that the gospel offers peace to everyone.
The six-hour conference featured an address from Young Women General President Janette Hales. Her message focused on how the fundamentals of personal religious behavior, things like reading the scriptures, praying, and keeping the commandments, can get you through life’s trials and keep you close to Heavenly Father, no matter what is going on in the world around you.
The conference also included 15 workshops covering subjects like dating, preparing for a mission, self-defense, sign language, and baby-sitting. It was just what the doctor ordered for the girls after the tragedy of the weeks before. But the memories for some of the young women were still vivid.
“We went to the store before they burned it to get some food,” said Virginia Smith of the Inglewood Stake. “It was crowded. All of a sudden people were screaming and running to the back. Someone said there were people there with guns. So my mom said to get on the floor, ’cuz if they shoot, they’re not going to shoot down there. Then someone said they went out. The next chance we got, we headed for the door, got in our car, and left.”

As a boy in Ogden, Utah, I loved to go to the movies with my brothers on Saturdays. We were each given a dime, and we walked to the nearby theater for a double-feature movie. One of our favorite stars was a cowboy actor named Tom Mix. After the movies, we walked home.
One Saturday, my brother Phil lagged behind, and I arrived home first. “Where’s your younger brother?” my mother asked. A little later, we found out that Phil had been hit by a car while he was crossing a street on the way home. He was hurt very seriously. His skull was fractured, and when we first saw him, his eyes were swollen to several times their normal size.
Our stake president came to the hospital, and he and my father gave Phil a blessing. Then we all prayed. As we did, a calm feeling came over my dad, and he knew that Phil would live. When the doctor arrived, he immediately told the nurses to lower my brother’s head. That decision went against how such injuries are treated, but it saved his life. Years later, we learned that his brain sac had ruptured—had his head not been lowered, he would have died. Although he was in a coma for months, one day he squeezed my dad’s hand and we knew that Phil could hear us. His recovery was very long and slow, but he had no lasting mental or physical problems from that terrible accident. I know that this happened because of the power of the priesthood.

Rodrigo Fontt of Osorno, Chile, has experienced the fulfillment of prophecy. His life has been changed just the way President Gordon B. Hinckley said lives would be changed when he announced the Perpetual Education Fund (PEF) to the Church three years ago.
While serving in the Chile Santiago West Mission, Brother Fontt worked in the mission office, where he learned what it was like to work in an administrative position. He enjoyed it, but in 2000, a year before the announcement of the Perpetual Education Fund, Brother Fontt returned home where he faced limited prospects for the future. Many returned missionaries around the world find themselves in similar situations. They have the desire but not the skills needed to rise above the poverty they and their progenitors have experienced.
Applicants to the program take a course called “Planning for Success.” In the course, many of them discover that they can achieve their goals without needing a loan. After hearing about the program and taking the course, Brother Fontt qualified and applied for a PEF loan and began working toward a degree in finance and administration. Though he now has a wife and young child and is working full-time to support them, he is currently in the third year of his educational program. He has become a leader in the Church, serving as bishop of the Antillanca Ward, Osorno Chile Stake.
Bishop Fontt is just one of many working hard to improve their lives. With his education, he and his wife feel that they are progressing not only temporally but also spiritually. They are achieving goals they would not have otherwise been able to reach.

Tommy Ayres moved with his family to Arizona, hoping the climate would benefit his father’s health. Tommy was ten years old at the time. The family attended an Evangelical Church; and at one gathering, President L. Harold Wright of Maricopa Stake was invited to explain the beliefs of the Mormon Church. Tommy was interested but did nothing about it until his father’s ill health kept them from driving the several miles to church. Tommy started attending Scout meetings at the nearby Latter-day Saint Church. Then he was on his way. He and his mother were taught by the missionaries and were baptized. His father, in a nursing home, was later baptized by Tommy. Two elders helped Tommy with the baptism by wheeling his father to the edge of the font and gently lifting him into the water. One month later his father died. His temple work was done two years later from sheets carefully prepared by Tommy.

Tommy’s interest in genealogy began soon after his conversion. He has spent hours researching family records for his own direct lines. It was a sweet moment for him when his parents were sealed (someone standing proxy for his dead father), and a brother who had lived for only two days and Tommy were sealed to their parents. Tommy left shortly afterward for his mission. He is serving in the Montana-Wyoming Mission under President Wright, the man from whom he first heard about the gospel.

I’m aware of a man who was involved in moral transgressions several years ago. For some time, this man felt too ashamed and too worried to approach his wife and his priesthood leaders. He wanted to fully repent but actually expressed that he was willing to give up his own eternal salvation rather than put his spouse and children through the sorrow, shame, or other consequences that might be caused by his confession.

Finally, this dear man confessed to his faithful wife and his Church leaders, expressing deep remorse. Though it was the most difficult thing he had ever done, feelings of relief, peace, gratitude, love for our Savior, and a knowledge that the Lord was lifting his heavy burden and carrying him caused joy beyond expression, regardless of the outcome and his future.

He had been certain that his wife and children would be devastated—and they were; and that there would be disciplinary action and a release from his calling—and there was. He was certain that his wife would be brokenhearted, hurt, and angry—and she was. And he was convinced that she would leave, taking the children with her—but she didn’t.

Sometimes serious transgression leads to divorce, and depending on circumstances, that might be necessary. But to this man’s amazement, his wife embraced him and dedicated herself to helping him in any way that she could. Over time, she was able to fully forgive him. She had felt the healing power of the Savior’s Atonement for her. Years later, this couple and their three children are strong and faithful. The husband and wife serve in the temple and have a wonderful, loving marriage. The depth of this man’s testimony and his love and gratitude for the Savior are so evident in his life.

A young woman I know felt saddened and frustrated because a friend had made unkind, untrue remarks about her. It distressed her that those who heard the false accusations would believe them. She wanted others to know the truth, and she wanted her friend to realize how much hurt her words had caused. The young woman thought of ways to confront her friend in an effort to have the truth known. The situation weighed heavily upon her until finally she thought, “What would Jesus do?” She decided that Jesus would show love toward her friend. And that is just what this young woman did.

Once she let the teachings of Jesus influence her decision and guide her actions, that which bothered her seemed not to matter. She didn’t have to worry about it anymore. She said that she felt a big burden was lifted from her. What had been hard to endure became easier to resolve when a Christian attitude of forgiveness was taken.

On the plane ride to my mission, I imagined what my homecoming would be like. Cheers would erupt, my family and friends would embrace me, and I would live out the rest of my life in peace, enjoying every blessing that came with being an honourably returned missionary.
Eleven months later, on the plane ride home, every moment was spent in aching anxiety about what lay ahead. My family was waiting, and although they did cheer and embrace me, before I knew it, I was alone with no idea about my future.
The Savior saw my dark days. He knew how I felt lying in bed for three weeks crying and sleeping to avoid reality. He knew I would need His strength because no one else around me could understand or even empathise with what I was going through. But He did. I couldn’t have survived my mission or returning home early without Him.
Ali Boaza, Queensland, Australia

While I was a mission president in Texas, I was informed that a particular missionary had lost his testimony and wanted to go home. Some checking disclosed that doubts of the divinity of his call had been planted in the young man’s mind by an investigator. In an interview with the so-called investigator, I experienced special powers of discernment that enabled me to know that the man was a minister of another faith, posing as a college student and pretending to be an honest investigator of Mormonism. Confronted with the knowledge that had been revealed to me, he became confused and admitted his fraud. With the deceiver out of the way and the truth known, the missionary stayed and completed an honorable mission.

Women and men who can hear the voice of the Lord, and who respond to those promptings, become invaluable instruments in His hands. I will never forget an experience I had following a stake conference. I was asked to participate in a blessing for a young woman who was suffering with cancer. The family were converts, and they had found peace through the promptings of the Spirit. Prior to our giving the blessing, this dear sister said to me: “Elder Ballard, I am not afraid to die, but I would like to live here with my family. I am prepared to accept the will of my Father in Heaven. Please bless me to find peace and to know that He will be with me.” What faith, insight, and courage the Spirit had blessed her with! A few months later the family advised me that Heavenly Father had called her home. She died in peace, and the family lived in peace because they were familiar with the Spirit. One of the sweetest messages the Spirit will relay is how the Lord feels about you. And that reassurance will strengthen you in a way that almost nothing else can.