Gospel Story Finder

Soon after receiving the priesthood and becoming a deacon at the age of 12, I also became a cadet in the Royal Canadian 52nd Air Cadet Squadron. It was a new and challenging experience adapting to the military. I especially remember how difficult the first summer was. As a new cadet, I attended basic training. So while my other friends from school were out-of-doors playing, I was learning how to march and to obey commands.
Unfortunately I wasn’t a very good marcher, and that’s all we seemed to do. The sun shone fiercely, and the heat was unbearable in our dark green uniforms. I thought I would faint. The food was cold, and the mess hall served none of the foods I liked. Military life certainly was different from what I was used to.
On our first Saturday night before bed, all the cadets assembled in the corridor of our barracks. When our flight sergeant came in, everyone snapped to attention.
“In the morning,” he shouted, “we are all going to church. There are only two churches on this base—Catholic and Protestant—so make sure you know where you want to go before tomorrow! Is that clear?”
The corps of young cadets shouted back in strict unison, “Yes, sergeant!” Then he left.
That night I had trouble sleeping. This would be the first time I wouldn’t be able to attend Sunday meetings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I didn’t know what to do. I climbed out of bed and began to pray again. I was desperate to know what I should do. I told Heavenly Father that I was really confused and scared. Would he please help me? As I crawled into bed the second time, I was still worried, but I began to feel that things would work out.
Bright and early the next morning, we lined up outside our barracks in the drizzling rain. The sergeant in his rain-tarp jacket gave the command I was dreading. “Catholics stand on one side, Protestants on the other!” After everyone had moved, I found myself standing alone between the two lines.
The flight sergeant glared across the square and shouted to me, “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know, sergeant—I’m a Latter-day Saint.”
He looked at me with a frightful glare, shook his head, and ordered, “Follow me.”
I followed him to the chaplain’s barracks. Inside, the ministers were still preparing for their Sunday meetings. The sergeant gave a sharp knock, and a voice within called for us to enter. As we stepped in from the rain, a gentleman dressed in camouflage and wearing a Catholic priest’s collar around his neck met us.
“This one’s a Latter-day Saint,” the sergeant complained, then ducked back out into the rain.
The priest invited me to sit down, and he and another priest began to decide between themselves what to do in such an interesting situation. They finally decided that they didn’t know enough about the Church to make a decision, and they asked me what we believed.
At first I wasn’t sure what to say, and then my mind suddenly cleared and I started quoting the Articles of Faith: “‘We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.’”
They both nodded in agreement.
I continued, “‘We believe that men will be punished for their own sins, and not for Adam’s transgression.’”
At this point, one priest suggested that it might be best if I went with the Protestant minister.
After the Protestant meeting, the minister found me in my barracks. He asked me how I had enjoyed the meeting. I told him that it certainly was different from what I was used to.
“What else do Latter-day Saints believe?” he asked, pulling up a chair. The other cadets in my room drew closer to listen. It was exciting as I repeated all the Articles of Faith. Everyone seemed very interested when I spoke of the Book of Mormon, of how it was another testament of Jesus Christ.
Later that night I made a long-distance call to my mother and told her how my difficult experience had turned into a missionary opportunity. I also requested that she send me a Book of Mormon so that I could give it to my minister friend.
The week went on, and finally the Book of Mormon arrived. On the inside cover I wrote my testimony and slid in the card containing the Articles of Faith that my mother had also sent me. The minister gladly accepted my gift and promised me that he would read it.
I never learned if that Book of Mormon changed the life of the minister. But as I look back, I recognize how Heavenly Father taught me the importance of being willing to stick up for the truth—and knowing the Articles of Faith.

“We wanted to organize; we wanted to have a club and wear a uniform, a blazer, and be official. We even got together and selected a name and colors for our club. We wanted something that all the LDS kids in our high school would want to be associated with, so we could be clearly identified as LDS.”
As Jean Sabin Groberg continued her account of that period of time in her life, her enthusiasm increased. “The purpose of our club was going to be to strengthen each other and to look after each other. There were only 20 or 30 of us in a very large high school in southern California. We really wanted to have something like the institute, only for high school, so that we could be strong together.”
With the growing desire that they each shared, she told of how a number of the youth unitedly approached the institute director. He listened to them. Then he met with them to discuss their plans, their goals, and their desires for an LDS club on their high school campus. He heard their concerns and felt the intensity of their desire. He agreed to “see what could be done.”
Sister Groberg recalled that after some time of anxious waiting, it was finally announced that they were to meet with the institute director. “Oh, it was just so exciting,” she exclaimed. “We were told that the seminary would be coming to our area that next year. There had been no seminary available to us, and now we had the feeling that our interest and our initiative had helped to tip the balance in bringing seminary to southern California. At least we felt important, that we were part of the beginning. To be a seminary graduate was a goal we just wanted to attain,” she explained.

Yearning to find the truth, Wilford Woodruff attended many religious meetings in the area around his home. At one such gathering, permission was given for anyone in the congregation to speak. Young Wilford stood, knowing that 40 or more ministers of various churches were in attendance. He stepped into the aisle and said:

“My friends, will you tell me why you don’t contend for the faith once delivered to the Saints? Will you tell me why you don’t contend for that Gospel that Jesus Christ taught, and that His Apostles taught? Why do you not contend for that religion that gives unto you power before God, power to heal the sick, to make the blind to see, the lame to walk, and that gives you the Holy Ghost and those gifts and graces that have been manifest from the creation of the world? Why do you not teach the people those principles that the ancient Patriarchs and Prophets taught while they were clothed with the revelations of God? They had the administrations of angels; they had dreams and visions, and constant revelation to guide and direct them in the path in which they should walk.”

The people at the meeting must have been surprised to hear such bold language from such a young man. Immediately, the presiding minister tried to discount the ideas Wilford Woodruff had shared. “My dear young man,” he said, “you would be a very smart man, and a very useful man in the earth, if you did not believe all those foolish things. These things were given to the children of men in the dark ages of the world. … Today we live in the blaze of the glorious gospel light, and we do not need those things.”

Unconvinced by this minister’s comments, Wilford replied, “Then give me the dark ages of the world; give me those ages when men received these principles.”3

On March 11, the Dominican Republic celebrated the Day of the Firefighter, so in the spirit of voluntary service and love, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wishes to recognize Sister Raquel Oleaga for her more than 37 years of service to the country’s firefighters, and for being an educator for more than 30 years. At the age of 91, she still honorably holds her position as Colonel Krauner of the fire department that has she has been part of.
Sister Oleaga told us of her vision of service that caused her to move quickly in an ambulance to give assistance to sick or injured people whom she regularly cared for, and she expresses that being a firefighter was one of the most wonderful experiences that allowed her to fully express her testimony of the gospel.
She expressed her concern for the children who do not have parents to provide them with healthy rearing, stating that she always gave a special follow-up to these street children, and that something she did for years was to gather the children of her community into her home every Friday to comb their hair and to tenderly clean their nails. Even with her voice weakened by the passing of years, we feel the great love that surrounds her from her very large family, with many grandchildren and great-grandchildren who honor the precious example that she represents in her home.
Sister Oleaga still expresses her concern for not being able to attend church due to her advanced age and health, but she shares her testimony that the years she served in the Lord’s temple in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple changed her life forever. She invites children and young people to read about and visit the Church, and even today, at the age of 91, she observes the love of many members who bring the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper to her home every Sunday.
Wonderful examples like those of Sister Oleaga strengthen our testimony, elevate our faith, and invite us to be better Christians wherever we are every day. She heeded the words of Jesus Christ and put them into action in her life, serving her fellow men like the Savior in every need with admirable acts of love for others.

I had an experience that illustrates this concept. While I was serving as Relief Society president in our ward, my husband was asked to serve as elders quorum group leader while the quorum president was gone for the summer. When we received word that the quorum president would not be returning, we discussed the possibility of my husband filling this position. We disregarded it, however, feeling that both of us filling such demanding and time-consuming jobs would be too hard on our three preschoolers.
But still I felt the inclination to pray about it. One night as I was praying the thought came clearly into my mind that if the Lord called my husband to this position, we were to recognize it as an indication to us that He felt it was possible for us to handle the assignment. If we would be wise in our planning, our children would not suffer. When my husband was called by the stake president and sustained to this position the next week, I saw the fulfillment of the promptings I had received. Prior to being called, my husband had also received witness from the Holy Ghost that this was the position he was to fill at this time.

Kirt Schwieder says he’ll always remember a conversation he had with his dad while working together on their family farm.
Jack Schwieder, bishop of the Ammon Seventh Ward, was telling Kirt, 21, about a friend whose child had recently died. Kirt’s dad looked across the dusty fence they were fixing and said, “Son, if something like that ever happens to us, I just want you to know that I love you.”

In closing, may I share with you a story of a woman whose life demonstrated trials, promises, and dedication to Relief Society.
Years ago, a faithful father and mother were traveling with three of their six daughters from Utah to Washington. About 13 miles out of Baker, Oregon, the car spun out of control, left the road, and rolled two and a half times. The second time it rolled over, the mother, who was driving, and her youngest daughter, who was 10 years old, were thrown from the car. Because the car did not have enough momentum to complete the third roll, it rocked back and pinned the mother and her daughter beneath its weight. The father quickly surveyed the situation and, knowing that if the car was not moved quickly his wife would die, he bowed his head in humble prayer and then proceeded to lift the huge Buick, with its wheels still spinning. The youngest daughter crawled from beneath as his 12-year-old daughter pulled her mother from beneath the car. The mother was critically injured and in terrible pain. As the father tended to the others, the 12-year-old daughter knelt beside her mother to comfort her. The mother reached for the girl’s hand and said, “Always remember who you are, and always be a good girl.”
The ambulance soon arrived, and the mother was whisked off to the nearest hospital. Amid the critical moments of that evening as the mother teetered between life and death, she pled with her Father in Heaven to spare her life long enough to see her six daughters married to worthy men in the house of the Lord. She promised that if He would grant her this righteous desire, she would then be ready to go, and she would dedicate her life to Him.
Miraculously, the woman steadily progressed over the days and weeks that followed until she fully recovered from her near-fatal injuries. More committed than ever, she faithfully served the Lord and focused her attention on raising her six daughters in righteousness.
Years later, while serving as the stake Relief Society president in Clearfield, Utah, she saw her youngest daughter married for time and all eternity. That day was the fulfillment of a sacred covenant between a beloved daughter of God and her loving Heavenly Father. The woman, her husband, their six daughters, and their eternal companions stood together in the house of the Lord. Her earnest plea from a hospital bed years before had been heard and fulfilled.
From that day forward, the woman’s health quickly declined under the ravages of cancer. Her condition worsened to the point that she could no longer continue in her calling as stake Relief Society president. As a result, she reluctantly accepted a release just weeks before she serenely and gratefully passed into the eternities, returning to a Heavenly Father who was mindful of her.
Sisters, that 12-year-old girl who knelt at the roadside beside her mother so many years ago, stands before you as a witness that:
“Your every need shall be fulfilled, now, and in the eternities; every neglect will be erased; every abuse will be corrected. All of this can come to you, and come quickly, when you devote yourself to Relief Society.”

Beginning in February 2022, Latter-day Saints in Poland helped refugees with transportation, food, and shelter.
RaeAnn and Sterling Jarvis—Church members in Warsaw, Poland—didn’t know what to expect when they chose to host refugees in their home. But they were willing to help in any way they could.
Soon after conflict began in Europe, a Ukrainian family of five arrived at their door at 1:00 a.m. They had traveled almost 500 miles (800 km) to find safety. The Jarvises welcomed Maryna and Serhii Bovt and their three children into their home. Over time they developed a real love and concern for the Bovt family. “When you share love, it grows,” Maryna said of the Jarvises’ example of service. “It makes us closer to each other and to the Lord.”

Now permit me to diverge from this narrative to say that when I was engaged to marry my wife, I gave her a ring. When we were married, I gave her a wedding band. She wore them for years. Then one day I noticed that she had taken them off and was wearing this little gold wedding band. It had belonged to her grandmother. The ring had been given her by her husband, George. The ring was the only thing he left in this life. One day in the spring, Martha was housecleaning. She brought all of the furnishings out to give the house a thorough cleaning. Upon shaking the straw from the mattress, she looked down, and the ring was gone. She looked everywhere most carefully. It was the only physical remembrance of her beloved husband. She raked through the straw with her fingers but could not find the ring. Tears fell from her eyes. She went to her knees and prayed that the Lord would help her to find the ring. When she opened her eyes, she looked down and there it was.
Now I hold it in my hand. It is too small for all of you to see. It is 18 karat gold, old and scarred and bent. But it represents faith, the faith of a widow who pleaded with the Lord in her extremity. Such faith is the wellspring of activity. It is the root of hope and trust. It is this simple faith that all of us so much need.

“If you want to share the gospel in a meaningful way, the approach is really important,” said Tara, who investigated and joined the Church while she was in junior high. “If my friends had told me, ‘Ours is the only true church. Yours is wrong, and you’re going to go to hell if you don’t get baptized,’ I would have been totally turned off. Instead, they invited me to some of the activities. When I went, I felt this great, warm love, like Heavenly Father was trying to reach out to me—trying to tell me something. I felt it when I was with those friends too, and I wanted to find out why they were like that.”

On Monday a schedule for art classes at the museum came in the mail, I told Mom that I wanted to take all the classes. She said, “You may take any one you want, but only one.” Sometimes Mom says no.

July 25. I checked on the tadpoles in the creek today. That’s what Billy would have done. They are doing fine. And so am I.

Following Joseph Smith’s death, Brigham Young was absolutely clear about priorities: first, the Saints must finish the Nauvoo Temple and receive the endowment there. Then they must seek a new home, the prophesied place of refuge in the West. For President Young, these goals required resolute attention. Indeed, so contagious was his enthusiasm that the pace of construction on the Nauvoo Temple increased dramatically under the leadership of the Twelve.

Ironically, such rapid progress inflamed enemies who, fearing that it might be impossible to drive the Mormons from Nauvoo after they finished their temple, vowed to drive them out first. 7 Faced with the probability of violence, in January 1845 Brigham Young momentarily hesitated; should they finish the temple even if it meant bloodshed? His diary records the answer: “I inquired of the Lord whether we should stay here and finish the temple. The answer was we should.” 8

Confirmed in his course, President Young pressed forward with iron resolve. In May, the capstone was laid and the Twelve announced that endowments would begin in December, a timetable they kept. Brigham talked tough throughout this period, partly to intimidate enemies and prevent bloodshed. “We would rather suffer wrong than do wrong,” was his motto, 9 and his faith that the Lord had dictated the direction and would oversee the outcome allowed him to act boldly.

Despite commanding the largest military force in Illinois, President Young declined to unleash the Nauvoo militia when violence finally broke out in September 1845. Instead, he and his fellow Apostles turned to intensive, special prayer, launching what historian B. H. Roberts called “par excellence the period of prayer in the church.” 10

If we choose the wrong road, we choose the wrong destination. For example, a friend of many years told me that her husband, always a “good kid” in high school, took a few drinks he thought would help him forget some problems. Before he knew what was happening, he was addicted. Now he is not able to support his family, and he is ineffective at almost everything he tries to do. Alcohol governs his life, and he cannot seem to break free of its grip.

In July 2013, Jesse B., 19, of Hampshire, England, was practicing for the first British Pageant with hundreds of Church members near the Preston England Temple. While he was excited for the pageant to begin, Jesse’s attention was divided between learning his part and thinking about a mailbox nearly 200 miles away where his mission call would soon be delivered.
It wasn’t long before Jesse’s family texted him a picture of his missionary envelope, and he learned that his dad would bring it to him a few days later. During an afternoon rehearsal, Jesse’s dad walked in, call in hand. Rehearsal stopped and Jesse opened his mission call in front of the whole cast. When he read the words, “You are assigned to labor in the Korea Seoul Mission,” he was ecstatic.
Jesse knew the truth of the gospel, so he was willing to spend two years in Korea sharing it. “I wouldn’t serve a mission without the compass of truth,” he said. “Truth is truth. It isn’t necessarily the easy way, but it’s the right way.”
That’s a message he’d heard a lot about in preparing for the pageant, which tells the story of the early Saints in the British Isles. In the opening scene, two of the first missionaries to go to Britain see a banner that reads, “Truth will prevail,” and this becomes their missionary motto. That motto resonated with Jesse too, and it’s a message he’s anxious to share as a missionary.

A letter was given to me, written by a young man whose twin brother had been killed while on an activity in Big Cottonwood Canyon east of Salt Lake City. His quorum leader grieved over the loss of one of his boys whom he had been called to serve, to teach, to inspire, and to motivate. He received comfort, as an adviser, in the help our Heavenly Father provided him in the answers to his prayers. He was asked to speak at the funeral of the deceased boy. It was a difficult assignment, but he fulfilled it. Then he received a letter from the surviving twin. The letter is the finest letter he has ever received in mortality. With his permission, I’ll share it:
“Dear Brother Cannegieter:
“I’d like to thank you for the talk you gave at Brian’s funeral. You told about all those wonderful times we had with Brian that I had almost forgotten. Brian and I both thought you were the best adviser and the best teacher we ever had, because you really cared about us and gave us your time. You taught us very important lessons and provided us advice from your own experience in life.
“We are going to miss Brian very much, and we will never forget the example of living life to its fullest and of courage and of dedication that he gave to us.
“I love you, Brother Cannegieter, and I hope I can be as smart and understanding and caring as you are. I hope I will really listen and get to know people like you do.
“I’d like to thank you for everything you have done for us.”
This is the comfort that comes to the heart of a person who loves his neighbor as himself. The same comfort will come to the heart of the person who loves God.

After school Doug dashed home and pounded up the steps into his family’s new apartment. He could hardly wait for the baseball game to start at the park.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” asked his mother as he sped from his room, carrying his baseball glove and aluminum bat.
“Across the street to play ball,” Doug said. Eric, from one of the other apartments, had told him that a group of boys got together after school to play baseball. Doug hoped he could make some friends in the new neighborhood.
“I want to go, too!” Doug’s younger brother, Jimmy, shouted as he dashed into the room.
“You know what’ll happen, Jimmy. Why don’t you stay here and play Baseball Master with Dad?” A game board version of real baseball, Baseball Master was won by a player’s knowledge of baseball strategy. Jimmy loved it.
“I don’t know about that,” called their father. “Jimmy’s too good for me.”
It was true. At Baseball Master Jimmy could outhit, outsteal, and outscore almost anyone.
Doug glanced at his watch and hustled off. He hoped that Jimmy would take his advice. It would save them both a lot of embarrassment.
Jimmy didn’t. Doug cringed as Jimmy trotted up to the group of boys in the park and asked to play. Jimmy looked over at Doug and grinned, but Doug ignored him.
Doug ended up playing second base for one team, and Jimmy played right field for the other team. Doug hit a home run his first time at bat. Jimmy struck out. Doug made his catches look easy at second base. Jimmy missed every ball that came to him in right field.
Doug felt sorry for his brother when Jimmy was yanked from the field by his team captain and replaced with another boy. Doug wished Jimmy would go home, but he didn’t. Jimmy stood behind the backstop, cheering for everything his team did.
When Doug hit his third home run to win the game. Eric and the other boys from the apartments slapped him on the back and chose him to be one of the two captains for the next game.
Doug heard some of the boys on the other team complaining, “We might have won if that clumsy kid hadn’t shown up.” Doug avoided looking at Jimmy. What if they knew that that “clumsy kid” was my brother? he thought.
Doug played catch with his new friends for a while and then walked home.
Jimmy was sitting on the apartment stairs, his head down. “Doug, how come I’m no good?” he asked.
Doug shrugged. Jimmy had always been awkward. The doctors blamed it on poor hand/eye coordination. There wasn’t much Jimmy could do about it. It was a shame, too, because he loved baseball. And he knew more about it than anyone else Doug knew.
“After supper I’ll help you with your catching and hitting,” Doug offered.
After eating, they headed down the apartment steps toward the park. Suddenly Doug spotted Eric and a couple of his new friends on the baseball field. He froze. “Um, Jimmy, let’s go play out behind the apartments. It’s too crowded over there.”
“I saw those boys,” Jimmy mumbled as they turned around. “You’re ashamed of me. That’s why you didn’t talk to me at the game today, isn’t it?”
Doug didn’t answer. He worked with Jimmy until it was nearly dark, without much success. “Why don’t you be our cheerleader?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I want to be part of the game.” He looked up at Doug as they walked back to the apartment. “Are you going to pick me on your team tomorrow?”
Doug was silent. How can I pick Jimmy? he wondered. What would the other guys think?
Before bed that night Doug walked past Jimmy’s bedroom and heard him praying. “Heavenly Father, why can’t I play sports? Why am I so uncoordinated?”
Doug wondered the same thing. Why did Jimmy have to sit home studying baseball while everyone else was out playing it? It didn’t seem fair. There had to be something Jimmy could do on a team besides cheering.
In his room Doug prayed about it. But no answer came to him.
The next day Doug waited at the park as the other boys arrived. He’d already decided which ones he wanted. They’d be the best. Maybe after choosing them, he’d pick Jimmy.
When Jimmy joined them, pounding his glove, several guys groaned.
Eric poked Doug in the ribs. “Who is that kid anyway? Do you know him?”
Doug pretended that he didn’t hear Eric, but it made him feel strange inside. Doug didn’t like the feeling. He realized he’d been acting ashamed of Jimmy because Jimmy had a problem with his coordination. That wasn’t Jimmy’s fault.
“He’s my brother!” Doug said loudly. “And he probably knows more about baseball than any of us.”
The other boys stared at him.
Eric snickered. “Him?”
“You don’t have to be able to hit home runs and make dazzling catches to know how the game is played.”
“All right,” said Eric impatiently. “Let’s get the game started. Pick, Doug.”
Doug looked over the group, but he couldn’t seem to decide. Every time he saw Jimmy’s eager face, his picks got all jumbled around in his head. Sure, he knew the guys who could hit, but hits didn’t always win games. Sometimes strategy did. Suddenly he knew the answer to his prayer.
“My first pick is Jimmy,” Doug announced, pointing to his brother.
“He can’t play,” someone said.
“Not to play,” Doug said, as Jimmy proudly scurried to his side, “but to be my manager and to plan strategy.”
There were some laughs. But when Doug’s team won the game by ten runs, no one was laughing. Jimmy’s strategy had worked.
Eric was chosen as one of the captains for the next game. Doug saw him eyeing Jimmy. “I already know who my first pick will be,” Eric said.
Doug smiled at Jimmy. “So do I.”

I had a spelling test, and my teacher said I got 100%. My friend looked at my test and told me that one of the words wasn’t right. I told the teacher, so she corrected the score. I felt happy because I was honest.
Eva W., age 8, Minnesota, USA

Dad! I need a new cell phone!
What’s wrong with that one?
First of all, this color is out, there’s no camera, and I’m sick of all the games on it!
We bought that for you three weeks ago!!!!!
I know! It’s ancient!
Ryan Stoker

After several months of improvement, the moment you’ve been striving for arrives. The mission assistants pull up to your fale one morning and say, “Pack your box, Elder, you’re transferred.” You are now in a new area, and your new companion has been in the mission field for three days. That means you’re in the driver’s seat, the senior companion, charged with directing the work of the Lord in your area.

This is your big opportunity to do things your way. A wave of fear sweeps over you as you realize that you really are in charge, and your new companion looks at you like, “Well, what do we do now?” You fight off your fear, “gird up your loins,” and go out to preach repentance to the people.

A month passes, maybe two. You’re putting in the hours, working the area, giving discussions, making out the reports. All the physical essentials of proselyting are there, but something is missing. People are polite. They let you into their homes and let you give a lesson if you wish. But they seldom ask you back, and you can tell that they aren’t really interested. Their custom prescribes that they receive you cordially, and they honor their custom.

You begin to do some real soul-searching and pray earnestly to understand how to get through to the people. And then the words of counsel that your father gave you before you left focus sharply in your memory: “Son, unless you really love those people, nothing else you do matters.” The words ring true. You ask yourself: “Do I? Do I really love these people?” And your own conscience gives you the answer.

The next time you go out to proselyte, your methods are changed. Instead of just preaching, you begin to listen—not only to what people are saying, but you fine-tune your spirit to the feelings behind the words. It’s a revelation to you as you begin to understand that these people have real problems, joys, hopes, and fears just like everyone else.