Gospel Story Finder

Sometimes temptation to let down her standards can be almost overwhelming, especially when a cherished goal comes in sight. Like the time Jenny was invited to meet with well-known disk jockeys from a major radio station—on a Sunday.
She wanted so much to be there, supporting her hospital team and meeting influential people, possibly improving her career opportunities. Workmates kept pressuring her to go. But she refused, at the same time explaining her feelings for the Sabbath.
“I felt awful letting them down,” she says, “but I’d have felt even more awful letting myself and Heavenly Father down—and my workmates, too, because eventually they would have seen me as a bad example.”

Christmas Eve is family night for us—even when it doesn’t come on Monday! We have family prayer before opening gifts, and we four sisters act out the first Christmas—as we always have ever since I can remember.—Denine Focarini, Camp Springs, Maryland.

Other couples are doing the same. Bishop Chan Yue Sang and his wife, Kit Fong, have four children and are deeply grateful for the gospel and the difference it has made in their lives.
Seventeen years ago, Bishop Chan, then a twenty-four-year-old police constable, first heard about the gospel when he attended English classes taught by LDS missionaries.
“The gospel was beautiful to me,” he remembers. “At the time, I didn’t even believe in a God. But when they taught of being with your family forever, I thought I would give up anything in order to have that.”
His life changed a lot after his baptism. Within six months he had received a promotion at work. He also spent time that summer working with the full-time missionaries and teaching the gospel to others. One of the investigators he taught wrote him a letter two years later, asking for a contribution to the chapel they were building in her ward. He sent some money, renewed his acquaintance with her, and married her a year later.
“The biggest reward the gospel has given me is my family,” Bishop Chan says.

Tyler held the church door open, and Mom hurried inside. They were late for the ward Christmas party, so Tyler could only glance at the new Christmas tree in the foyer. But there was something different about the tree. It didn’t have any lights. Or lots of ornaments. Instead there were little papers hanging from the branches.
“Welcome,” said the bishop from the front of the room. “Before we start our program, I have a special announcement …”
Tyler’s little sister, Rose, started fussing, so Tyler leaned down to help her. Over the noise, Tyler thought he heard the bishop say something like “the Getting Tree” and “take a tag.” If the tree in the foyer had gifts, Tyler wanted first pick. While everyone else watched the program, Tyler slipped away before the end.
Carefully Tyler lifted a paper off a branch. The first tag read, Girl: Winter coat—Size 5. He put it back. The next read, Grocery Gift Card. Tyler worried they might all be boring gifts. But then he found just the right one. Boy: Big Whirl Helicopter. He stuffed the tag in his pocket and raced to find Mom.
“There you are,” Mom said. “It’s almost time to leave.”
“OK,” said Tyler. “But first, I picked this from the Getting Tree. How do I get my helicopter?”
“Oh, honey,” said Mom. “It’s not the Getting Tree. It’s the Giving Tree. The tags are gifts for families in need.”
Tyler’s cheeks burned. He wanted to put the tag back, but other people had gathered around the tree. After church tomorrow, when no one was looking, he would put it back.
The next day Tyler’s Primary teacher told about the Wise Men who brought gifts to Jesus. “What could you give Jesus for Christmas?” she asked.
Tyler closed his fingers around the gift tag in his pocket. He didn’t feel embarrassed anymore. He felt like he wanted to give. The only problem was he didn’t have gold, frankincense, or myrrh. But maybe he could earn some money for a Big Whirl Helicopter.
As soon as Tyler got home, he dumped the money from his piggy bank on the bed. He had $2.47—not enough. He asked Mom if he could do chores for money, but she said, “Not on Sunday.” The gift had to be turned in by next week. Could he earn the money in time?
While he thought, Rose brought him the Friend magazine. As Tyler read to her, he saw the answer to his problem. The Friend had a story about kids running a hot-chocolate stand to earn money to donate.
“Mom?” Tyler asked. “Could I set up a cocoa stand tomorrow?”
“Maybe. Why?” Mom asked.
“To earn money for the Giving Tree present.”
Mom gave him a hug. “Sure. I’ll help you.”
The next day Tyler put a table and chairs outside. Mom boiled water, and Tyler mixed in the cocoa. Rose even helped by holding a sign. By the end of the afternoon, Tyler’s nose was cold and his fingers felt stiff, but he had enough money for the Big Whirl Helicopter.
Tyler felt happy all the way to the store. He smiled as he wrapped the gift and dropped it off to the bishop. He knew now it was called the Giving Tree, but the feeling he had inside was like a special gift too. At least in that way, it really was the Getting Tree.

The volunteers gathered in the Waiting Room of the Temple after the Dedication. Little did they know that they were in for a pleasant surprise!
When the door opened, they quickly stood up astonished seeing President Dallin H. Oaks in front of them!
Pres. Oaks commended and thanked all who helped make the Open House and Dedication a success.
He added, probably referring to the 15-minute power outage during the afternoon session, “Anything can go wrong but there’s nothing we can’t do something about.”
He continued, “I’ve been to many temple dedications and I can say that this team was excellent, if not the best.”
Elder Gregorio Karganilla shared:
“When Pres. Oaks came to the Waiting Room before heading home to Utah, it dawned on me that it was as if Jesus Christ visited us in the room to express His gratitude for all that we’ve done to make the Temple Dedication edifying and successful.”
President Oaks then expressed his love to the volunteers and left them with tears and joyful spirits.

Sometime around my 17th birthday, I had achieved my full growth with the usual bulges and ripples in the right places. Dad and I were alone together on the farm since my older brothers were married or at college. One day we were stacking bales of alfalfa hay. I was placing them from the truck on a long conveyer that carried them to where Dad was placing them in the right position on the haystack. The sound of the small motor drowned out any possibility of talk, so, lost in my own thoughts, I worked rapidly to finish the job. I was startled when Dad yelled. I looked up to see that I was sending bales of hay up to him faster than he could place them. After waving for me to stop, he sat down to rest. Dad pulled out a red bandana handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. At that moment I realized I was no longer a small child following my father’s footsteps in the snow. My father was more tired than I was.
I had never before realized that this was natural since I was 17 and he was 55. I was instead a bit shocked by the recognition that he was no longer going to be the person I compared myself to in order to see if I was doing all right. Truthfully, I felt a bit anxious as if I were suddenly without a leader and were on my own. As I sat looking at him, a wave of emotion passed through me. I could not understand all of it, but I knew something significant was taking place. He suddenly looked a bit older to me and more tired than I had been willing to notice.
As we began to work again, and I more slowly, my father seemed a bit less than he used to be. I felt a little disappointed and even resentful. Some fate had robbed me of a security I had as a child, but I gained an understanding that has been a wonderful part of my life. I understood that more than an unattainable example of manhood, my father was just a man. He was a mortal like me, and what he did I could someday do too. Knowing this was far better than trying to be like someone and never succeeding. My father became to me a real person who had feelings and ideas, strengths and weaknesses, hopes and dreams.
My disappointment was brief, and I began to view him differently, even feeling protective of him. As the days followed, I became more responsible in doing my chores and tried in many ways to be more helpful to him. I began to tell him more things about myself, and we became closer. Though he was by nature a reserved and quiet man, we became more openly affectionate with each other. We are not equals. I am better in some areas because of an advanced education he gave me. He is wiser because of his experience.

These early seeds of faith sprouted still further when, as a young Aaronic Priesthood boy, I received a firsthand confirmation of the remarkable testimony of the Three Witnesses concerning the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. My stake president was President Henry D. Moyle, and his father was James H. Moyle. In the summertime Brother James H. Moyle would visit his family, and he would worship with us in our little ward in the southeast of the Salt Lake Valley.

One Sunday, Brother James H. Moyle shared with us a singular experience. As a young man he went to the University of Michigan to study law. As he was finishing his studies, his father told him that David Whitmer, one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon, was still alive. The father suggested to his son that he stop on his way back to Salt Lake City to visit with David Whitmer face-to-face. Brother Moyle’s purpose was to ask him about his testimony concerning the golden plates and the Book of Mormon.

During that visit, Brother Moyle said to David Whitmer: “Sir, you are an old man, and I’m a young man. I have been studying about witnesses and testimonies. Please tell me the truth concerning your testimony as one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon.” David Whitmer then told this young man: “Yes, I held the golden plates in my hands, and they were shown to us by an angel. My testimony concerning the Book of Mormon is true.” David Whitmer was out of the Church, but he never denied his testimony of the angel’s visitation, of handling the golden plates, or of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Hearing with my own ears this remarkable experience directly from Brother Moyle’s lips had a powerful, confirming effect upon my growing testimony. Having heard it, I felt it was binding upon me.

How do we prepare our children to make and keep sacred covenants as they enter and progress along the covenant path? Teaching children to keep simple promises when they are young will empower them to keep holy covenants later in life.

Let me share a simple example: In family home evening, a father asked, “How are we getting along as a family?” Five-year-old Lizzie complained that her big brother, Kevin, was teasing her too much and hurting her feelings. Kevin reluctantly admitted that Lizzie was right. Kevin’s mother asked him what he could do to get along better with his sister. Kevin thought and decided he would promise Lizzie that he would go one whole day without teasing her.

At the end of the next day as everyone gathered for family prayer, Kevin’s dad asked Kevin how he had done. Kevin’s response was “Dad, I kept my promise!” Lizzie happily agreed, and the family congratulated Kevin.

Kevin’s mother then suggested that if he could keep his promise for one day, why couldn’t he do it for two days? Kevin agreed to try it again. Two days passed, Kevin was successful in keeping his promise, and Lizzie was even more thankful! When his father asked why he was keeping his promises so well, Kevin said, “I kept my promise because I said I would.”

A succession of small, successfully kept promises leads to integrity. The consistent practice of promise keeping is spiritual preparation for children to receive their first covenant of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost, wherein they covenant to serve God and keep His commandments.15 Promises and covenants are inseparable.

Count Leo Tolstoy, Russian author and statesman, in conversation with Andrew D. White, United States foreign minister to Russia, in 1892 said, “I wish you would tell me about your American religion.”

“We have no state church in America,” replied Dr. White.

“I know that, but what about your American religion?”

Dr. White explained to Tolstoy that in America each person is free to belong to the particular church in which he is interested.

Tolstoy impatiently replied: “I know all of this, but I want to know about the American religion. … The church to which I refer originated in America and is commonly known as the Mormon Church. What can you tell me of the teachings of the Mormons?”

Dr. White said, “I know very little concerning them.”

Then Count Leo Tolstoy rebuked the ambassador. “Dr. White, I am greatly surprised and disappointed that a man of your great learning and position should be so ignorant on this important subject. Their principles teach the people not only of heaven and its attendant glories, but how to live so that their social and economic relations with each other are placed on a sound basis. If the people follow the teachings of this church, nothing can stop their progress—it will be limitless.”

Tolstoy continued, “There have been great movements started in the past but they have died or been modified before they reached maturity. If Mormonism is able to endure, unmodified, until it reaches the third and fourth generation, it is destined to become the greatest power the world has ever known” (see Improvement Era, Feb. 1939, p. 94).

Dedicated May 2002
We are very happy with the reopening of the Campinas temple, which was closed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. The temple was reopened just in time for us to celebrate our 20th anniversary. We loved this special gift from the Lord.
Campinas Brazil Temple
I testify that the temple is the house of the Lord—a place filled with love, miracles, peace, and healing. God is literally our Heavenly Father and awaits us with joy in His holy house so that we can feel His presence and gain strength to overcome the world.
Isabel Bueno de Almeida, Sumaré Ward, Sumaré Brazil Stake

Julie Carnaghan has always loved music, both instrumental and vocal, and is talented in both areas. She sings alto with her school choir and accompanied them to the Montreux Festival in Switzerland where they won their event. Julie also plays the oboe in the Belfast City Youth Orchestra.
Julie is the only LDS student in her high school, and she faced opposition when she joined the Church. Since she and her mother were baptized, many of Julie’s other relatives have joined the Church. She is a member of the Rosetta Ward, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake.

As is common with conversations between mothers, the subject soon turned to sick kids and then doctors.
“Have you been to that new doctor in the children’s clinic?” Georgia asked.
“Yes, I took Harry to him last month,” Janice replied enthusiastically. “I sure was impressed with him.”
“Me too!” Georgia agreed. Up until then, I wasn’t really paying much attention. I’d never been to this new doctor; I didn’t even know who he was. But Georgia and Janice had been debating the merits of every doctor in the city for as long as I had known them, and this was the first time I’d ever heard them both give the same doctor such a hearty approval.
“He really listens to you,” Georgia was going on. “I had my Cheryl in there awhile back. She was just getting over a cold, but I didn’t think she seemed right. The other doctor wouldn’t even listen and kept insisting she was fine. But not Doctor Bloomberg. He paid attention to what I was saying, and sure enough the child had silent pneumonia.”

“A lot of my friends didn’t think we read the Bible,” Rachael says. “So I was really glad I could show them my seminary scriptures. They think it’s just their churches that have Bible study. They’re surprised to find we Mormons have our own study classes as well.”

Eight-year-old Alice Minerva Richards recorded that during the meeting on April 7, she “heard beautiful music, beyond anything [she had ever] heard elsewhere … and saw angels.” When she returned home, she told her younger brothers and sisters about her experience.

by Nancy Gunn
As the “Star Spangled Banner” was played at the Boy Scout Hokushinetsu-Taikai Jamboree in Toyama, Japan, Kenneth Gunn and Karl Guymon of the Salt Lake Hunter East Stake discovered a new feeling of pride in their country. The two Eagle Scouts were the only two American Scouts at the jamboree which 4,500 Japanese Scouts attended. Kenneth and Karl were guests of the Matsumoto Scout Troop.
The two Scouts prepared for the experience by taking English and Japanese versions of the Book of Mormon with them, along with Church pamphlets and Tabernacle Choir records. They wanted to make their trip a missionary experience as much as possible. Kenneth’s family even placed their photo in some of the books, and each family member who was old enough wrote down his or her testimony, placing it in one of the books.
Their first day in Matsumoto the two Scouts met the mayor and presented him with a plaque from Salt Lake City, which is Matsumoto’s sister city. During their 2 1/2-week visit, the boys stayed with various families. They were overwhelmed by the courtesy shown them by their host families.
The five-day jamboree was held near Toyama Bay in the Japanese alps. One of the requirements of the camp was that the Scouts all attend a worship service on Sunday. Kenneth and Karl held their own sacrament service.
The two Scouts felt that their short mission of sorts was very successful and that their polite refusal to drink tea, along with the gifts they gave of the Book of Mormon, pamphlets, and records, helped them plant seeds for future missionary efforts in Japan. They learned to love the country and its gracious people on their once-in-a-life-time trip.

During Christmas people come to my house. Mother makes sweets and cakes and buy new clothes for us. We exchange gifts and decorate the house. I love Christmas. I am so happy during Christmas season.
—Sharisha, age 8

When I graduated from high school, I was an accomplished tennis player, and I was selected to travel around Europe on a great team. While in France, we often played on fast indoor courts. I played well the first month and won a lot of matches.
Feeling really good about myself, I left France with my team and headed for Austria. The first tournament was on slow red clay. Going from fast indoor courts to slow red clay was a dramatic change. For the first time—and the only time in my 40 years of playing tennis—I lost 6–0 6–0, a double bagel, we call it. It rocked my world. Unwisely, I dwelt on my deficiencies from the match for days. A week later I was still dwelling on the loss.
I began to constantly doubt myself. Every time I messed up, I told myself I wasn’t good at tennis. I would miss a backhand into the top of the net and say to myself, “Not again! Your backhand stinks. You can’t make a backhand. Why do you even play this game? You just stink.”
Then I had the opportunity to play tennis at Brigham Young University, and I thought it was the perfect time to reset. However, I quickly learned that the bad mental habit of self-doubt I had created wasn’t going away anytime soon. I was working hard physically, but I wasn’t working hard mentally.
The problem was that I didn’t know how to fix my habit. How could I develop the belief that I could improve when I constantly doubted my God-given ability to do so? And my doubts didn’t just relate to sports. I had often told myself I wasn’t a good student. As a result, I didn’t study well and therefore didn’t do as well in school as I could have. Receiving low grades just reinforced the cycle of self-doubt, negative talk, and negative performance. As I prayed and pondered about these things, the Lord taught me some valuable lessons that could apply in all areas of my life.
One of the most important things I realized is how dangerous self-doubt is. When it gets into your mind, it hinders your ability to fulfill your potential and undermines confidence. However, confidence and fear, or positive and negative thoughts, cannot occupy your mind at the same time. To break my habit of self-doubt, I needed to fill my mind with the belief that I could excel.
I started working on thinking more positively. President James E. Faust (1920–2007), Second Counselor in the First Presidency, said, “We develop our talents first by thinking we can.”1
But positive thinking by itself isn’t enough. I realized that because I have a divine nature and destiny, I can trust in God to help me improve in all areas of my life. And as I listen to the Holy Ghost, I can make good choices, develop my talents, and work to reach my divine potential.
As I exercise faith in God, ask Him for guidance and help to fulfill my divine potential, and trust that He will help me, I gain trust, confidence, and a growing sense of self-worth.
The Lord also taught me that increasing confidence has a lot to do with how you talk to yourself. Every time I caught myself thinking or talking to myself in negative, reactive ways like, “Your backhand stinks” or “Don’t miss that backhand,” I would stop that thought and immediately replace it with thoughts such as, “I love my backhand” or “I am going to rip it down the line.” And instead of saying to myself, “School is tough; my classes are too hard for me,” I started telling myself, “I’ve got this; I can get good grades.”
It took some time, but everything started to change. I was playing amazing tennis (at least for me), and I was studying and getting better grades. More importantly, it chased out fear. This change in thinking was a continual work in progress, and I constantly battled to apply what I had learned. As my fear disappeared, my confidence grew.
The Lord also taught me that it was important to remind myself of my worth and potential when I started doubting or talking negatively about myself. I started thinking of short phrases that would remind me of my divine worth when I am under pressure or discouraged. Doing this is a lot like using a scripture or hymn to lift you up when you feel down or want to stay strong in the face of temptation—only personalized to your particular situation. When used at critical moments, doing this can flood the mind with positive, strong thoughts and instantly squeeze out any negative thoughts and emotions.

When Janet’s brother was killed in a car accident caused by a drunk teenage driver and his passengers, she knew she needed to let go of the bitterness she felt, but she didn’t know how.
“It was hard to tell what pained me most—my anger toward these mindless teenagers or my sincere yearning to have my brother back. I couldn’t bear to think of the huge void in my life. I remember praying fervently for what seemed like hours. All I wanted was to have Nathan back.
“I felt pity for the boys responsible for Nathan’s death because I knew that they felt a tremendous guilt. But I also felt anger and resentment. It was easy to blame them. I said in my mind that I forgave these young men, but anger still flooded my thoughts when I dwelt on the accident. I frequently asked myself, ‘How will I ever truly forgive these young men, and how will I know when I have?’
“It wasn’t until after hundreds of prayers, earnest fasts, and much studying and reflection that I finally felt I had truly forgiven them. I remember pondering one day. I thought, ‘I forgive them. How could I not? Everyone makes mistakes, and who am I to judge? I will never solve anything by holding on, so I am letting go.’ The feeling was amazing! I’d constantly yearned to know that I’d truly forgiven the young men, and in time it came. I cannot change what happened to Nathan, but I can choose to react with forgiveness and love rather than anger.”
Janet learned that truly forgiving can take time and effort. The Savior said, “Draw near unto me and I will draw near unto you” (D&C 88:63). Janet drew closer to the Lord through fasting, prayer, scripture study, and other efforts. As we do the same, we can let our anger and hurt be replaced with feelings of peace and forgiveness.

The first principle is to have a feeling of gratitude to Heavenly Father during the sacrament for the Atonement of His Son. The following story is told about passing the sacrament:
“The sacrament never really meant much to me until the Sunday I was ordained a deacon. That afternoon I passed the sacrament for the first time. Prior to the meeting, one of the deacons warned me, ‘Look out for Brother Schmidt. You may have to wake him up!’ Finally the time came for me to participate in the passing of the sacrament. I handled the first six rows quite well. Children and adults partook of the bread with no noticeable thought or problem. Then I got to row seven, the row where Brother Schmidt always sat. But I was surprised. Instead of being asleep he was wide awake. Unlike many of the others I had served, he took the bread with what seemed to be great thought and reverence.
“A few minutes later I found myself again approaching row seven with the water. This time my friend was right. Brother Schmidt sat with his head bowed and his big German eyes shut. He was evidently sound asleep. What could I do or say? I looked for a moment at his brow, wrinkled and worn from years of toil and hardship. He had joined the Church as a teenager and had experienced much persecution in his small German town. I had heard the story many times in testimony meeting. I decided finally to gently nudge his shoulder in hopes of waking him. As I reached to do so, his head slowly lifted. There were tears streaming down his cheeks and as I looked into his eyes I saw love and joy. He quietly reached up and took the water. Even though I was only twelve then, I can still remember vividly the feeling I had as I watched this rugged old man partake of the sacrament. I knew without a doubt that he was feeling something about the sacrament that I had never felt. I determined then that I wanted to feel those same feelings.”4
Brother Schmidt had communicated with heaven, and heaven had communicated with him.

When I asked Elder Werker to tell me about himself, I found out he had worked for his father.
“What business?”
“Construction.”
“Was it hard work?”
“Dad expected us to go to work as soon as it was light enough to see, and to work until the job was finished or until it was too dark to see.”
“Do you think you’ll have to work that hard here?”
“I don’t think I should work any less for the Lord than I do for my father. Do you?”
The answer was obvious.
Four or five weeks later at a zone conference, Elder Werker’s companion, who was a hard worker too, said, “President, how long do I have to train Elder Werker? The pace is killing me!”
By the end of his mission, Elder Werker had helped bring 56 people into the Church.
Elder Werker had something in common with a lot of successful missionaries. He came into the mission field with a knowledge of work. He knew what it meant to keep going even when he was tired or discouraged. He would stick with a job until it was completed.