Gospel Story Finder

When I was young, I questioned the existence of God because of my arrogance and doubts about my self-worth. I desired worldly praise at school, at work, and even at church. I belittled those closest to me because the lower I pushed them, the higher I would see myself.
I ruined relationships with my pride. I put my love of the world before the love that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ had for me and the love that I should have had for Them. This all caused so much grief and heartache.
As I got older and experienced some challenges, I realized I was seeking the glories of the world because I thought they defined my worth. I wasn’t aware of what truly gave me value—my divine identity.
After realizing I was seeking the things of the world, I eventually decided to turn toward Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I sought to know more about Their love for me and who I truly was.
As I studied the scriptures, I was able to deepen my faith in the blessings we can gain when we understand our identity. I love the story of Moses speaking with God on a mountaintop. In just a few verses, God calls Moses His son three times (see Moses 1:4–7). Shortly after this experience, Moses is tempted by Satan and is able to use his knowledge of his divine identity to resist him (see Moses 1:12–24).
Like Moses, I’ve been strengthened by the knowledge that I am a son of God. Because of this knowledge, I’ve been able to keep an eternal perspective and focus on what really matters. And as I’ve studied further, I’ve realized just how personally Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know us.

The hospital was tall, five stories tall. It was a new building with hundreds of windows in uniform rows. I stood before it, my head bent back as my eyes scanned the top row of windows. So many windows, each with a personal story behind it. Which one housed my grandpa, my childhood, my life? I looked to the pavement below my feet and slowly shook my head. My hand wiped away a tear, and I entered the modern, colorful house of birth, of joy, of pain, of loneliness, and … I shuddered … and hoped I would never have to come here again.
“Room 363, intensive care.” The woman’s face was blank, expressionless. Again I felt the tightness in my chest. Something wanted to explode there. I leaned against the elevator wall, my eyes shut tight.
The nurse was a little more human. “You’ll have to wait a moment, dear. The doctor is with him,” she whispered. The hall, the air was hushed and still. At the end of the hall in the corner, a quiet bottle rack stood with rows of empty pop bottles. It made me think of Grandpa’s store. Grandpa kept all the empty pop bottles in a bushel basket just inside the back door. It didn’t take me long to figure out that if I went in the back door, took a couple of bottles, went out the back door and around to the front door, I could give Grandpa the bottles and buy a candy bar. Then Grandpa would take the bottles out back and put them into the bushel basket to wait till the next time I got a craving for a Hershey bar. Back home we had to search up and down the streets, in and out of alleys, through garbage cans to find an empty pop bottle. Life was just easier all the way around here with Grandpa and Grandma.
Thinking of Grandma made me feel a little apprehensive. She was in with Grandpa now, but sooner or later I would have to see her, I would have to say something. It doesn’t seem possible that two people could live in the same house together for 13 years and still be strangers. How could she be so unlike Grandpa? She’d never been cross or impatient, but I couldn’t talk to her. I secretly suspected that she’d been relieved to see me go. I sighed tiredly. Grandma wouldn’t understand my hurt. How could she? She didn’t know me.
The door swung silently open. The doctor walked through the doorway and looked kindly at me. “You must be Janie,” he said. “Your Grandpa has been asking for you.”
I let out a long breath and stood. I felt light-headed. My legs felt like jelly. I looked to the doctor for strength. But he didn’t know me either. He smiled and walked down the hall.
I entered the room. Grandpa was not small and shriveled. He was not senseless. He smiled at me. He looked very pale.
“Oh, Grandpa,” I cried and ran to his open arms. He held me, patting my back.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I have no regrets.” I looked at him with a teary face. His eyes were clear. He looked tired.
“Don’t cry, Blondie Boo. Don’t cry.” His eyes closed. He held me a moment longer, then his hands, his arms, relaxed. They lay heavy on my back.
“Grandpa,” I sobbed. I could see him lying still. But someone’s warm hands were on my shoulders. I turned to look into Grandma’s face.
“For the first time in his life he was wrong,” she said. “It’s all right to cry.” Surprised, I saw that she was crying, too. I could only stare.
“Come stay with me for a while,” she said suddenly. I was confused.
“Please,” she said. “It will be kind of like wiping up raindrops. I’ll help you … and you can help me.” I couldn’t believe it. She did understand. And in her quiet way she probably always had.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll stay.” I had a grandmother to get to know.

I had always just assumed that when you got into ninth grade, you went to seminary. So I was surprised when I received a call from the bishopric asking me if I wanted to enroll.
I thought, “Sure. Why not?”
The next thing I knew, it was the first day of ninth grade, and I was on my way to released-time seminary. I was pretty scared and not very excited. “Yeah,” I thought, “another church meeting to go to every day. What could my teacher possibly have to teach us every single day? And I was supposed to do this for four years? What if I didn’t know anyone in my class? What if I didn’t like my teacher? What if I just didn’t want to go?”
But I forced myself out the door of my high school and took that long trek to the seminary building. When I got there, I looked for my name to see which class I was in. I then waited for someone I knew so I wouldn’t have to be alone. Little did I know that in seminary you are never alone. I finally gave up waiting and went to class. As I walked into the classroom, I was greeted by a warm smile and a friendly handshake. That’s when things started to get better.
I took a seat, and as I looked around at all of the beautiful pictures on the walls, my friends started to come in. Friends! Now I could have fun.
Class finally started, and we all told a little about ourselves. Then the teacher, Brother Toma, introduced himself and told us about seminary—how important it was to come every day and how there would be gospel study, fun activities, and sometimes even treats!
I couldn’t believe how fast that class went by. It was so much fun; I didn’t want to leave. When the bell rang, I had to drag myself back to the school.
When I returned to school, I could instantly tell a difference. My school had never seemed so worldly before. I was amazed at how strong the Spirit had been in that seminary building, even on an orientation day.

Several years ago a good friend in Washington, D.C., a member of the Church, came home and found his house being burglarized and ended up tussling with the burglar. The burglar shot him, almost completely severed his spinal cord, and he is now paralyzed from the waist down. As I visited with him in a hospital in Washington, D.C., he told me movingly and tearfully, and with a sense of gratitude, how he had now, as a matter of prayer and great reflection, been able to forgive this man, his unknown assailant, for the great tragedy that he had inflicted upon him.

It all started—where else?—at church. It was fun for the family to get together and sing, and they began doing it at stake and ward functions in Oregon. Then one day a man asked them how much they’d charge to perform elsewhere. They said $25, and their professional careers were born.
Some families do jigsaw puzzles together; some ride bikes. The Potters performed—at fairs, shopping malls, civic events, that type of thing. It was fun, gave them some confidence, and kept them close. But suddenly, through a frightening turn of events, their performing became a life-or-death matter.

It is not uncommon for family members to have mistaken ideas about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Loving and clear communication can do much to ease any tension that may arise in these situations. I joined the Church when I was a teenager. Shortly after my baptism, I learned that my Catholic grandmother believed I would no longer consider myself her grandson due to my newfound faith. What a relief it was when I was able to clear up this misunderstanding!

Gérald Caussé was still establishing his career in the food-distribution industry in France at age 33 when the president of his company called him aside. He had noticed Gérald’s spiritual convictions and his ability to make sound judgments and unify employees—traits developed through activity, service, and leadership in the Church. The president concluded that Gérald was a man he could trust.
To his surprise, Gérald was soon given the responsibility of managing 1,800 employees. By the time he was called to serve as a General Authority Seventy a decade later, in April 2008, he was managing several food-distribution companies.

Cecilia Celeste Merrell of the Globe Second Ward, Globe Arizona Stake, had no intention of liking the astronomy course she had to take. But when she entered class on the first day and saw the teacher dressed as a wizard, she began to get other ideas.
Now she can’t stop winning awards for her astronomy projects. She’s won just about everything you can at science and engineering fairs and at local, national, and international competitions. She’s worked hard on her projects and now knows a lot about reaching for the stars.
She also reaches for the keys—piano and organ keys—which she plays at church. She sings, writes poetry, dances, and cooks—in addition to stargazing.

The hours that followed were a blur—our phones constantly ringing with calls or pinging with texts from concerned friends and family, most of which we were unable to answer.
In the midst of it all, I felt an urgent need to call my aunt, whom I’ve probably called five times in my entire life. But every time I see her, she always seems to say something that my soul needs.
When she answered, I was surprised by her upbeat and confident response. “Noelle,” she said, “this is a miracle! You got out!” She continued, “This is only the first of many miracles. Watch and see what the Lord has in store for you. He will lead you to where you need to be.”
I wanted to believe my aunt—to believe in Him. But the grief was real, and the tears were many. The problems seemed too complex to solve, and our hearts seemed too broken to mend. There were times when I would crumble beneath the weight of trying to rebuild an entire life from scratch. I wondered quietly, and desperately, “Will He really lead us now? What will we do if He doesn’t come?” But during the weeks and months following the explosion, we watched in amazement as my aunt’s faithful prediction proved true, and our broken hearts were bound up again and again. I did not know that extreme grief and profound gratitude could co-exist.
My aunt promised, “Watch and see what the Lord has in store for you. He will lead you to where you need to be.”

The first Church group was organized in Maputo in February 1995, with Samo P. Gonçalves as presiding elder. He had been baptized in 1992 while studying in Portugal. The following year, in February 1996, the Church received official recognition and thereafter began to blossom.
Today there are five stakes, one district and two missions serving over 15,000 members in Mozambique, and in April 2021, President Russell M. Nelson announced the construction of the Beira Mozambique Temple. —Sister Kathleen Irving, Church History missionary, Africa South Area

From there, Elder and Sister Findlay set out to help organize the campaign. Ten-year-old Roseline Dekaye’s artwork was chosen to be featured on the printed materials. Her drawing was also used in both the Tanzania and Malawi campaigns.

Susy went to church after her Primary teacher invited her. Susy’s mom and dad did not go to church, but every Sunday they drove her there. Susy liked Primary.
One day Susy was outside playing dolls with her next-door neighbor Mary. When they went home for lunch, the girls left the dolls there. Later that afternoon the girls returned to get their dolls. But Susy’s doll was missing. She looked and looked, but could not find it. After supper she came back to look for it again. Still, she could not find it.
Then Susy remembered what her Primary teacher had told her about Heavenly Father and how He loves all His children and will answer their prayers. Susy decided to kneel and ask Heavenly Father to help her find the doll. When she stood up, she had a feeling that she should look behind the tallest pine tree. Sure enough, the doll was there! Susy ran quickly home to tell her mother that she had prayed and found the missing doll.
“Maybe I should go to church and learn how to pray to Heavenly Father, too,” her mother said. Susy’s mom and dad did go to church. And her mother learned how to pray to Heavenly Father and was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church.

In 2004, prior to his call to the Quorum of the Twelve, and quite by coincidence, Elder Uchtdorf and I traveled together on a Lufthansa flight to Europe. It is not unusual for airline passengers to recognize and greet General Authorities traveling on the same plane. But this time the greetings were quite different. Virtually every member of the Lufthansa crew came eagerly to greet their former chief pilot. They lined up for the privilege of shaking his hand. Their feelings of deserved adoration for him were very evident to me. They seemed to perceive his great faith as well as his caring for them.

Brother Owen: In my youth when I really needed to know something, I remembered the First Vision and thought, “Joseph Smith did it. I don’t need a huge manifestation, but I need an answer.” And so in faith I followed that pattern. I remember kneeling down and bowing my head and saying a prayer out loud. Continuing to follow that pattern has blessed my life many times to receive personal revelation.

At first I was just interested in knowing how my grandmother had managed to raise six children on very little income. I talked to her for hours, taking notes. I also asked my mother and my aunts and uncles about their memories of family events. But I didn’t know what to do with all that information until my cousin Ginny suggested that I write my grandmother’s life story.

When he accepted a scholarship to play at BYU, he had not planned to serve a full-time mission.
"But I found myself around young men who were deeply committed to living the gospel, and I wanted to be more like them," Elder Sikahema said.
In 1982 he stepped away from college football to serve in the South Dakota Rapid City Mission.

Youth from the Newcastle Stake and surrounding districts in Australia make the most of their Easter break youth conference. Some 120 young people gathered for last year’s activity, with the theme, “I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves.”

They had dances. They had waterfights. They had fun old movies. They put snags (sausages) on the barby. They had firesides, church meetings, and the best-loved testimony meeting.

But a major part of the conference was spent cleaning up the land around the Richmond Vale Mine Museum, at a historic coal mine. They pulled weeds, cleared train tracks, moved logs, and basically tidied up the area.

Brett was excited. He had just gotten a letter from his big brother Tony. Tony was a missionary. Before Tony left, Brett promised him that he would do missionary work too.
Brett, did you know that when you serve others, you are doing missionary work? I can’t wait to hear about all the missionary work you are doing. Love, Tony
Mom, I want to serve others so I can do missionary work like Tony. What can I do?
I know Mrs. Hampton could use some help raking her leaves on Saturday. Would that be a good way to do missionary work?
Yes! Then I could write Tony and tell him all about it.
The next Saturday, Brett sat down to write Tony a letter.
Dear Tony, I hope you are having as much fun as I am doing missionary work. We helped Mrs. Hampton today in her yard. She gave us a plate of cookies. Dad asked her if she wanted to come to church with us, and she said yes. Love, Brett
Brett folded the paper and stuck the letter and one leaf from Mrs. Hampton’s yard inside an envelope.
I can be a missionary too!

“A girl I knew in school,” Nadine Hobbs, also of St. John’s says, “a friend of mine, came up to me and said, ‘You’re a Mormon aren’t you?’ I told her I was. She said, ‘I thought so. I’ve noticed there was something different about you, something very nice. Your missionaries knocked on our door last week and I let them in because I wanted to find out what it was.’”

Mary lives in the Central region. She watched the April 2021 general conference broadcasted on television. She was really touched and felt very peaceful throughout the session. She was particularly impressed with the leadership and the testimonies shared.
The following Sunday, she looked for the Church and attended her first meeting. The missionaries met her and introduced her to the members and leaders. They taught her the lessons and she was baptized few weeks afterwards. She is so excited and boldly testifies of the truthfulness of this restored gospel.
Currently, she is engaged in family history and preparing her several family names for the temple.