Gospel Story Finder

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.

And, finally, be a good influence on others. When I was a sophomore in high school, some of my friends started drinking and smoking. They knew I didn’t drink or smoke, but they began to pressure me to join their parties anyway. The more they pressured me, the more uncomfortable I felt, until finally I stopped hanging around them. I figured that if they were really my friends, they wouldn’t push me to do things I didn’t want to do. Real friends would never ask you to do something you shouldn’t.

When I was 20, the missionaries baptized my girlfriend and her family. The missionaries taught me, too. After I read the Book of Mormon, I received a testimony and was baptized. When I was 23, my girlfriend, Walkyria, and I were married. Several years later, we traveled to the Los Angeles California Temple to be sealed together. We couldn’t afford to take our children with us, so they were sealed to us when the first temple in Brazil, the São Paulo temple, opened.

This year I was invited to take part in a student-led group that looks out for the well-being and mental health of the students at our high school. As soon as I received the invitation, I felt as if the Lord was directly telling me to join this class. But in order to take this class, I would need to drop my favorite class, weights. At first, I thought, “That doesn’t seem as fun as weights. What do I get out of this?”

But as I thought about it, the Spirit guided me and told me, “Nick, it’s not about what you can become. It is about what you can help others become.”

I now absolutely love this group at school, and I feel as if the Lord has led me every step of the way. I am so grateful for Him and His guidance. I testify that His guidance always leads us down the right paths!

Nick S., 17, Idaho, USA

I have had the frightening experience of feeling lost more than once. When I was very little, I went to Salt Lake City, Utah, with my parents. I had never seen such a big city. My mother, who thought I was with my dad, went into a store. My dad, thinking I was with my mother, stayed outside to wait while she shopped. But I just kept walking down the street. Before I knew it, I was half a block away and didn’t see a single familiar face or place. I didn’t know what to do. I was petrified with fear. My parents quickly realized I was gone, however, and it took them only a few minutes to find me.

That experience, as well as others, helped me understand the importance of the rod of iron in Lehi’s dream. Just as the rod kept people from getting lost as long as they held on to it, so, too, will the word of God help to keep us from going astray. As long as we follow him, always try to do what is right—even if we are confused at times and aren’t exactly sure of where we are or where we are going—and pray, God will help us and will lead us back to him.

Shortly before the April 2020 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson invited my wife, Kalleen, and me into his office, where he called me to be the General Young Men President. As our heads were spinning over this totally unexpected turn of events, he stood and said: “This is an important time for the youth of the Church because it’s an important time for the Church. The youth will play a critical role in this wondrous time.” He added, “You know, I have invited them into the Lord’s battalions.”
“Yes, President Nelson,” I said. “I know you have, and I know they are listening.”
“Well, it’s important that they do, because they are needed.”
I am paraphrasing only a little here, but he then went on to talk with great energy about the long-prophesied gathering that is taking place and the important work the Lord has for our youth to do. He spoke with a sense of urgency and great immediacy that they have been specifically sent to prepare for the Savior’s return.

During the final months of our mission last year, we experienced an event that taught once again this profound principle that each of us is known and loved by God.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell was coming to New York City for some Church business, and we were informed that he would also like to have a mission conference. We were so pleased to have this opportunity to hear from one of the Lord’s chosen servants. I was asked to select one of our missionaries to provide the opening prayer for the meeting. I might have randomly picked one of the missionaries to pray, but felt to ponder and prayerfully select one whom the Lord would have me ask. In going through the missionary roster, a name boldly stood out to me: Elder Joseph Appiah of Accra, Ghana. He was the one I felt the Lord wanted to pray at the meeting.
Prior to the mission conference, I was having a regularly scheduled interview with Elder Appiah and told him of the prompting that I had received for him to pray. With amazement and humility in his eyes, he began to weep deeply. Somewhat surprised by his reaction, I started to tell him that it was all right and he wouldn’t have to pray, when he informed me he would love to offer the prayer, that his emotion was caused by the love he has for Elder Maxwell. He told me that this Apostle is very special to the Saints in Ghana and to his own family. Elder Maxwell had called his father to be the district president in Accra and had sealed his mother and father in the Salt Lake Temple.
Now, I didn’t know any of what I just related about this missionary or his family, but the Lord did and inspired a mission president on behalf of one missionary to provide a lifelong memory and testimony-building experience.
At the meeting, Elder Appiah offered a wonderful prayer and made a humble contribution to a meeting where Elder Maxwell taught the missionaries of the attributes of Jesus Christ. All who were there will never forget the feelings of love they experienced for their Savior.

I read again the other day Parley P. Pratt’s account of his reading the Book of Mormon and coming into the Church. Said he:
“I opened it with eagerness, and read its title page. I then read the testimony of several witnesses in relation to the manner of its being found and translated. After this I commenced its contents by course. I read all day; eating was a burden, I had no desire for food; sleep was a burden when the night came, for I preferred reading to sleep.
“As I read, the spirit of the Lord was upon me, and I knew and comprehended that the book was true, as plainly and manifestly as a man comprehends and knows that he exists” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [1985], 20).
The gift of faith touched his life. He could not do enough to repay the Lord for what had come to him. He spent the remainder of his days in missionary service. He died a martyr to this great work and kingdom.

A Mia Maid in the Philippines expressed the same thought like this:
“I used to ask myself, ‘Am I one of the chosen daughters of our Heavenly Father?’ and ‘Did God create all people?’ These questions prompted me to read the scriptures with the hope of receiving immediate answers. But the answers took long in coming. I became involved in the Young Women organization, and through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I developed a strong faith that I am indeed a daughter of God, who created all of us.”

Jerry was another guy who helped me shape up properly. He managed the health spa where my brothers and I used to do our weight lifting, and he often joined our workouts.
Jerry was no scrawny high school kid. He was a mountain of muscle. Any weight I could lift barely once, Jerry could easily lift ten times. I hated it and loved it when Jerry worked out with us. I hated it because he wouldn’t let us rest or loaf.
“One more! C’mon, you can do one more rep,” he’d yell when I was ready to rack the weights. “Don’t give up now. You can do it.” Then he’d stand over me as I grunted and strained to produce one more repetition. “Atta boy. I knew you could do it.”
I hated the hard work, but I loved the encouragement and motivation he added to our workouts. Jerry squeezed out the best in me, and I always made my best lifts when he was around.

A second way we fail to feel blessed is by giving God a timeline. I have a darling three-year-old grandson named Dalan. His family arrived at my home late one night after a seven hour drive. My exhausted daughter wanted to sleep in the next morning, but Dalan did not. He jumped on her bed very early and said, "Wake up mommy; I'm hungry."

She opened one eye and said, "Oh, Dalan, I am so tired. Just give me five more minutes."

To her surprise, he said "Ok." Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "one, two, three, four, five. I did it mommy. I gave you five minutes."

He was so cute she just had to get up with him. I think that sometimes our perception of time is close to Dalan's. We tell God that we have waited for five, ten, or even twenty years and that is long enough. We think God asks too much of us. What if Columbus had finally told God that he knew he was inspired with the idea to sail west and he knew he had been told he would succeed. However, he had been doing everything he could to accomplish this for almost six years--and that was long enough. We need to be faithful, patient and know that we will be blessed.

A third way we deny ourselves the blessings of the Holy Ghost is that we listen when the prompting and revelation deals with serving someone else, but fail to listen when it requires a change in our lives. Years ago I was serving in a stake Relief Society here on campus. I was driving home late one Sunday afternoon when I noticed a young woman standing on the sidewalk and received the strong prompting to pull over and offer her a ride. I pulled over, rolled down the widow and asked her if she would like a ride. She looked at me for a minute, then she said yes. She told me where she lived and I drove her to the steps of her apartment. She thanked me but didn't say more.
I spoke in stake conference the next Sunday and I received a card from her during the week. She said she didn't share her experience with me that day because she didn't know who I was. She had had knee surgery and as she was walking home, her knee began to hurt so terribly she knew she would be unable to make it to her apartment. She prayed and asked Heavenly Father to either lessen the pain so she could stand to walk on her leg, or to send someone to give her a ride. She said, "I opened my eyes and there you were. You are the fastest answer to a prayer I have ever had." I was grateful I had been blessed to receive that prompting.
However, I also received some direction from the Holy Ghost that was not as easy to follow. I had developed the habit of turning on the television at night and I was watching more than I should. The words came into my mind very clearly telling me to turn off the television and to be wise in the way I used my time. That was not as easy for me to follow. The importance of responding to guidance was emphasized by former General Relief Society President Julie B. Beck, "The ability to qualify for, receive and act on personal revelation is the single most important skill that can be obtained in this life."[13]

When Mom read Grandma’s letter, my twin brother, Bryce, and I looked at each other and cringed. “How can Grandma take care of a garden?” I asked, reaching for my milk.
“Grandma has always had a garden, Peg,” Mom answered, smiling and pushing the plate of cookies toward us.
“But before, Grandpa was there to do the hard work,” Bryce pointed out. “Since he died, Grandma’s been alone. She shouldn’t be out working in the garden.”
“But Grandma loves having a garden,” Mom said. “I don’t think anybody could talk her out of it.”
“Then we ought to help her,” I said. “Bryce and I could help. We help Dad in the garden all the time. We could do the hard stuff that Grandma shouldn’t do.”
“She lives a long way from us—almost seven hundred miles. We can’t drive there every time she needs help.”
“So what are we going to do?” Bryce asked. “We can’t just let her do it alone.”
Mom thought for a long time. “You can remember her in your prayers. Maybe Heavenly Father will send someone over to help her when she needs it most. That’s probably all we can do right now. We’ll visit her this summer. You can help then.”
“But that will be after most of the hard work.”
Bryce and I couldn’t stop worrying about Grandma. The summer before, we had spent three weeks with her and Grandpa and had worked with him in the garden. We knew how hard it was to hoe weeds, keep the ditches clean, and water every week. The sun had burned down, making the sweat pour down our faces. We didn’t think it was fair for Grandma to have to do all that hard work herself. When we said our prayers, we always remembered her and her garden, but we still felt there was something else we ought to do. We just weren’t sure what it was.
The next Saturday Mom sent us to the store for some milk. On our way home, we passed Sister Rogers working in her yard. She was on her hands and knees, digging in her flower bed. She greeted us with her usual big smile. “Out running errands?”
We nodded. “Isn’t it too hot for you to be out working, Sister Rogers?” Bryce asked.
“It is warm, but someone has to do the work. Since Brother Rogers had his operation, he hasn’t been able to do much. In a month or so, he should be well enough to help some. But right now there’s work to do, and I’m the only one who can do it.”
Bryce and I started home. “I don’t think she’s the only one who can do that work,” Bryce muttered. “Maybe we should help her out.”
A few minutes later we were back at the Rogers’s place. “We came to help,” I announced. “What can we do?”
Sister Rogers was surprised. “I haven’t ever had young people stop by to help out. What would you like to do?”
“Anything you need. You tell us what to do, and we’ll get it done.”
Usually working in a garden or a yard is hard, boring work, but that Saturday Bryce and I had the best time. The sun was hot, and the sweat ran down our faces and into our eyes, and our backs ached after we’d pulled the weeds from the flower beds. I wore a blister on my hand, and Bryce ended up with two when we hoed the vegetable garden. But there was something fun about working with Sister Rogers.
It was late afternoon when we finally quit. She tried to pay us each five dollars. “No way!” I told her. “We didn’t do this for money. Taking money would ruin everything. We just wanted to help you out.”
Before she let us go, though, she fixed a huge pitcher of ice-cold lemonade and put a pile of soft, chewy brownies on a plate for us. We rested and feasted on the goodies.
“This reminds me of working with our grandma,” I told her. “She always gave us a treat after we worked in her garden.”
Sister Rogers laughed—a happy, fun laugh. “Did your Grandma ever feed you brownies?”
“No, but she makes the best molasses cookies I’ve ever tasted,” Bryce said. “After we worked, she gave us all the molasses cookies we could eat.”
“Well, Bryce, if you and your sister come back another time, I’ll have a plate of molasses cookies. I don’t know if they’ll be as good as your grandma’s, but I have some grandkids who think they’re good enough to put into a person’s mouth.”
For the next three weeks Bryce and I stopped by the Rogers’s place often. Sometimes the only thing Sister Rogers had for us to do was carry the trash out to the curb, but we still checked on her. We kept her flower bed and garden weeded, mowed the lawn, and helped trim the shrubs along the front of the house. And we found out that she made molasses cookies almost as good as Grandma’s.
“I don’t know what we would have done without your help this summer,” Brother Rogers said one afternoon as we were getting ready to leave. He had hobbled out into the front yard and sat in a lawn chair. “After my operation, I told Sister Rogers that we ought to just forget the garden and yard this year.” He shook his head and smiled. “She wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Usually we’re not crazy about working in the yard and stuff,” Bryce admitted, shrugging, “but this reminds us of working for our grandma.”
That evening as we were finishing dinner, Mom announced, “A letter came from Grandma today.”
“What did she say?” I asked, excited.
“How’s her garden?” Bryce wanted to know.
Mom smiled. “I think your prayers have been answered.”
“How?” I questioned.
“An LDS family down the street from her knew that she needed help, so they decided to make that a family project. At least once a week they go there and lend her a hand.”
Bryce looked across the table at me and grinned. “Maybe we prayed that family over to Grandma’s garden.”
“You could be right,” Mom said, nodding. “And I think that maybe someone someplace else has been praying for their Grandpa and Grandma Rogers. They probably prayed the two of you over to the Rogers’s garden—and you didn’t even know it.”
“Is that how Heavenly Father works?” I asked.
Mom smiled. “When he has work to do, he may use people like the two of you to do it. Even though you wanted to go help Grandma, you couldn’t go there, so Heavenly Father sent someone closer by. Maybe the Rogers’s grandkids would have loved to help them but couldn’t, so Heavenly Father sent the two of you. Doesn’t it make you feel good to know that you could be his answer to a prayer?”
Bryce and I thought about that. “Well, Peg,” Bryce said with a grin, “we’d better get to bed early tonight so that maybe we can help someone else tomorrow.”

Once when I was 16 years old, I was in a restaurant with some friends from church. A man who knew one of us came in. He said, “I want to invite all of you to drink some liquor right here and now.”
I remember standing up and saying, “None of us drink liquor. And if you want to drink, go find somewhere else to do it.”
This man was in his early 20s and much larger than I was—a very strong man—and he became mad. He brought a glass of liquor to me and said, “I’m going to make you drink this!”
I said, “Don’t try it. There could be unfortunate consequences.” He tried to grab me and force me to drink the liquor. The next thing I knew, the man was lying on the floor. I really didn’t have the strength to defend myself against that man, but Heavenly Father provided what I lacked.
Much later, when I was a husband, father, and businessman, I was invited to attend a lunch with the president of the Republic of Guatemala. I found myself in a room with many other guests. When the president entered, waiters poured liquor so that everyone could join in a toast. But I covered my glass with my hand. The president said, “Mr. Pérez, won’t you join me in a toast?”
I replied, “Mr. President, if you’re asking me if I will wish you success in your government, I will. But if you’re asking me if I will drink liquor, I will not. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If that is a problem, I can leave right now.”
He said, “No, no.” They drank their liquor, and we sat down. A little later the president said, “Tell me something of your church,” and I did.
It doesn’t matter where we are or whom we are with, we can always stand by our principles. If we make a firm decision once and for all, when temptations arise we don’t have to think, “What am I going to do?” or “What am I not going to do?” The decision is already made.
We are never alone. Even though His creation is so immense, our Father in Heaven knows that you live and that I live. He knows our hearts. He knows our thoughts. He has given us His perfect plan of happiness because He loves us. He is always searching for ways to bless us.

Hermann Mössner was nervous as he walked into the chapel. He and his friends from the English prison camp were still in their uniforms, marked with the letters “P.O.W.” Everyone knew those letters stood for “prisoner of war.” What would the members of the branch think? Would they see him as their enemy?
Hermann was from Germany. After being forced to fight in World War II, he had been captured by British soldiers and sent to the prison camp. This was the first time he’d been allowed to go to church since being captured.
Hermann took a deep breath as he sat down on one of the benches. He could see the branch president, George Camm, sitting at the front. President Camm was Hermann’s friend. Seeing him smile made Hermann feel better.
Several months ago, President Camm came to visit Hermann at camp after hearing that he was the only member of the Church there. At first Hermann was a little worried. Would President Camm hate him? Their countries had fought against each other in the war, after all.
But when Hermann and President Camm met, they smiled and shook hands. Then they prayed together. They sang songs and talked about the gospel. They even took the sacrament together.
“I love you, my brother,” Hermann said when President Camm had to leave. He saw tears in President Camm’s eyes as he waved goodbye.
After that, President Camm visited Hermann every Saturday. During the rest of the week, Hermann did his best to live the gospel. He shared his testimony with the other prisoners while they worked in the fields. He answered their questions while they carved wood after a long day’s work. Sometimes he prayed with them.
“Hey, Hermann,” one of the prisoners had said one night. “Could I join you and Mr. Camm on Saturday?”
Hermann looked up from the block of wood he was carving. He smiled. “Of course!”
“May I too?” another prisoner asked.
Hermann and President Camm were very excited to teach more of the prisoners. Soon some of them even wanted to be baptized!
And now, as Hermann looked around the chapel at the families waiting for church to start, he felt peace. Some members were nervous around Hermann at first. But soon everyone came to trust him. The other prisoners who wanted to learn about the gospel got permission to leave camp to go to church with Hermann on Sundays. Later, Hermann was even called to be the branch Sunday School president.
Time passed, and Christmas got closer. Hermann wanted to do something to thank the members who had been so kind to him. Then he had an idea! It was almost time for the branch Christmas party. Hermann gathered more blocks of wood and started carving. One by one, he turned the blocks into little cars, elephants, planes, trains, and horses.
Finally the day of the party arrived. Everyone ate food and sang Christmas songs together. Hermann and his friends from camp sang Christmas songs in German.
Then Hermann pulled out a big bag. Inside were 40 wooden toys! Hermann gave one to each Primary child. It was a Christmas they would never forget.
After three years in the prison camp, Hermann returned to his family in Germany. Years later, Hermann visited the same chapel in Leeds, England, he attended as a prisoner of war. Some of the grownups there told him they still had the wooden toys he had carved for them when they were children!
See Come, Follow Me for Moroni 7–9 and Christmas.

After the Prophet Joseph translated the first 116 pages of the Book of Mormon, Martin Harris insisted that he be loaned the manuscript. He wanted to show people what he was doing—his family and others. The Prophet responded by seeking the counsel of the Lord, who told him very clearly not to share the manuscript. But Brother Harris was undeterred, and the Prophet continued to ask the Lord. Finally, the Lord said, in effect, “All right, Joseph, have it your way.” The Lord does not control or interfere with the exercise of our agency. The song in the hymnbook says He “will force no man to heav’n.”
So the Prophet loaned the manuscript to Brother Harris. He listened to the people’s voice, as Saul learned. And then the manuscript disappeared. As a result, Joseph lost his ability to translate, and he had to come back and repent to the Lord. In this way the Prophet painted himself into a corner, and his options were reduced. Blessings were taken away from him. It was an agonizing experience until he was able to repent, to turn around, and to receive his power to translate once again so that he could fulfill the mission the Father had for him here on earth.

It was hard being the only Latter-day Saint at my school. It was hard to make friends—and harder still to make friends with the same high standards. So I prayed, and the Lord blessed me with a good friend.
Will became that friend. Once we started hanging out and having a great time, other people began to join us. And we soon found ourselves surrounded by friends.
Will got his driver’s license first in the group, and the rest of us always used to joke that where there’s a Will there’s a way. Will and I and all our other friends went everywhere and did everything together. My teenage years were awesome because of my friendships.
Will wasn’t a Latter-day Saint, but he respected me for my standards. On the rare occasions that a bad word came out of his mouth, he would apologize. If we were with other friends and one of them cursed, he would say, “Hey, we don’t cuss around Jacob.” It felt good to know that I didn’t have to stick up for my standards all by myself. It was good to know Will would stick up for me.

At one point, Graydon and Donna, who had been bringing up the rear with their father, stepped into some quicksand—more accurately, water-saturated sand. Graydon quickly leaped free, but Donna struggled too hard and was soon in the bog up to her waist. Graydon and his father couldn’t pull her out, and the others were too far ahead. But Chris Jones, who had arrived later in the day and started the hike with a friend, caught up to them from behind like the Cavalry. Between the four men, a branch, and stepping stones that kept sinking in the mud, she was extricated, a little shaken after the half-hour ordeal. “Guess I don’t have to find those scissors to cut your legs off,” Chris laughed, trying to cheer her up.

When I was growing up, we had a buckskin mare that got loose and ran with the wild horses in Skull Valley. Sometime later, a man who caught and sold wild horses called us. He had recognized the mare, and he returned her to us. After we got the mare back, we noticed that she ran with her head down—a horse can only survive in the desert by running with its head down, watching for gopher holes and barbed wire. If a horse stepped into a gopher hole and broke its leg, then predators would get it. There is a lesson in this experience. The Lord has arranged for you to have parents and leaders who can see the pitfalls and difficulties that can create problems for you. They can see the problems that you will be facing as you grow up. If you are willing to listen to their advice, you can avoid harm.

I have always enjoyed reading the New Era, but not until recently have I realized how much goes into putting it together.
Our seminary visited the Church Office Building in Salt Lake City and went on the floors involved in putting together the magazines. We were amazed at all of the friendly people and all of the time and effort they put into making each issue the best possible.
After seeing all of this effort firsthand, I will always appreciate the New Era and be sure I read it from cover to cover.
Rebecca ClarkMidland, Michigan

Another General Authority, Rulon S. Wells, a kindly and pleasant elderly gentleman, came to our home one time after a stake conference. He stayed for supper and afterward accompanied me while I milked the cows. He leaned on the corral fence and we chatted.
Elder Rulon S. Wells

Afterward, since I had recently obtained a driver’s license, I was able to drive him back to Salt Lake City in our old Model T Ford touring car. When Elder Wells ordained me a seventy before I went on my mission, I was thrilled to learn that he had been ordained a seventy by Brigham Young.