Gospel Story Finder

At the time, my mom and I were living in New Delhi. I was close to my aunt, so when I was 11, I went to visit her and Uncle Reza in Toronto for the summer. While I was there, my aunt invited me to church. In my first meeting, I loved seeing families sing the hymns together. I had never experienced anything like that.
“What is this place?” I asked my aunt after the meeting. “Everybody’s so happy and friendly. I want to know more.”
Two sister missionaries came and taught me the lessons. I knew I wanted to be part of what I was learning. The gospel made me happy, and I wanted to join the Church, so I did.
Tahira at her baptism with her Aunt Assiya, Uncle Reza, and Sister Jane Rogers, who taught Tahira the gospel.

Once I hit my little brother. But I stopped and said I was sorry because I know that if you hurt someone it will hurt Jesus, too. I love Jesus and want to live with Him someday.Keaton Hill, age 8

When I got baptized, the elders really supported me. At my baptism, I was so happy. I felt like I was leaving my old life behind and beginning a new life. My baptism helped me to join Jesus Christ’s Church and prepare to receive other ordinances.

When I entered the missionary training center, I realized that there was more to learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement and myself. Even though I’m of Tongan descent, I had never been to the South Pacific islands, and I struggled with the Tongan language. When I got to New Zealand, I had no idea what people were saying to me in Tongan. I had so much to say, but because I couldn’t speak the language, my words were few, simple, and broken. I nodded my head when people asked me questions. They laughed at me, and I laughed with them, but behind closed doors the laughter turned into tears of frustration and discouragement. I thought to myself, “I worked seven years to come out here for this?”
So I prayed to Heavenly Father. In Ether 12:27 we learn that our weaknesses can become strengths if we trust in Him. I told Him about my weaknesses and my trust in Him, and I got back up again … and again … and again. I started to rely even more on Christ and also on my strengths.

Eighteen-year-old Amber Romney has a philosophy about her life. She got it from a children’s book she read when she was 11. The book is a familiar one, The Little Engine That Could. Amber, who is deaf, can relate to the little engine who had to tell herself over and over again, “I think I can, I think I can” as she pulled the big train up the mountain.
“In my life, my hill is my hearing impairment,” says Amber, of Mesa, Arizona. “The little engine is my strong will.”
With that attitude, Amber is able to face her daily challenges.
Amber’s positive attitude and desire to succeed have helped her to accomplish many things since a severe illness took her hearing when she was only 15 months old.
She’s learned to read lips and use sign language to communicate. Most importantly she has learned to never give up. With the help of her family, friends, and especially Heavenly Father, Amber has learned to overcome her disability and excel at many things.
“Everyone has their ups and downs,” Amber says, using her mother, Stephanie, as an interpreter. “I try to have as many ups as I can.”
Meeting people and making new friends is sometimes difficult. “I think maybe some people are intimidated because they think that they can’t talk to me,” she says. “Sometimes I have to make the first approach.”
Even if someone can’t sign to Amber, she can usually read lips. It’s a talent she says she’s continually getting better at.
She can speak to others because of years of speech therapy. She says that after the first few conversations people have with her, they usually get used to the way she talks. Then it gets easier.

The bombs were going off all around me, and gunfire zinged overhead. But I had to keep crawling, dragging the 40-pound ammunition can with me through the dirt and mud. My basic training in South Carolina was nearly finished. We were in the final ordeal to test our skills, endurance, and obedience. Each day had been challenging, and it seemed that I’d been able to meet each task and accomplish it. But I was really being pushed this time.
When I first arrived, I realized that in order to succeed, I needed to learn from those around me. Watching the people who were excelling, I followed their lead. With each new skill, I looked to see how the best men of our group worked at it, and then followed their example to develop my full potential. It was the same lesson my mother and father had taught me since childhood. They read the scriptures, and they taught me to, so I read them daily. I was shown by them to kneel and pray, morning and night. They taught me to follow the example of my Savior and live my life as He lived His.
When the going would get tough, my mother always said, “Sing a Primary song; it will carry you through.”
So there I was, with my face in the dirt, struggling through the gunfire and explosions, in the final big test of my training, and my mother’s words came to mind. I began singing, softly at first, “I am a child of God, and He has sent me here, has given me …” (Hymns, no. 301).
Suddenly, a drill instructor on the course shouted, “Recruit Letteer! What are you singing?”
I thought I had been singing to myself, but in the pressure of the moment I must have started singing out loud. Now, over the din on the field, one of my drill instructors had heard me. I lifted my face from the mud and called out, “Sir! I’m singing ‘I Am a Child of God,’ sir!”
He looked at me, paused for a moment, then shouted, “Carry on, recruit!”
And I will, I’ll carry on as a United States Marine in the Reserve Corps, and in a few months, as Elder Letteer somewhere in the world as a missionary. And when the going gets tough, I’ll just look to my example, Jesus Christ, and know how to “carry on” again.

A month after Sister Horváth’s baptism, a new mission was established in Hungary, and many more missionaries were assigned there. Since the headquarters of the mission have been in Budapest, Gergö, Imre, and Péter have had many opportunities to spend time with missionaries. Newly arrived missionaries often stay at the Horváths’ home when the mission home is full. Imre was especially excited to meet one missionary, Elder Thomas Emery Peterson, who not only liked to wrestle but also has the same first and middle names as his—Imre (Emery) Thomas. Each of the Horváth boys wants to serve a mission.

In 1850 the Imperial Church choir of Berlin sang the song for King Frederick William IV, who was so delighted that he asked to personally meet the writer and composer. By that time Father Mohr had died, but Franz Gruber was honored for his music; his guitar is now in the Municipal Museum at Hallbein.

Two handcarts were actually used in various cities across Russia, one as a backup in case of trouble or in case activities were planned in two places on the same day. When the celebrations were through, one cart remained in Russia. The other was shipped to Church headquarters, where it was presented to President Gordon B. Hinckley, then displayed at the Church Museum of History and Art.
Members filled the handcart bound for Salt Lake City with souvenirs. The youth of St. Petersburg were eager to be part of the sharing, but what could they add to such a collection?
A perfect answer: each youth conference participant was given a sheet or two of paper. They were instructed to write their testimony, addressed to President Hinckley. Then all the testimonies were bound together in a blue velvet book trimmed with gold braid and bearing the Russian coat of arms.
Though there were many items in the cart, from teddy bears to dolls dressed in native costumes, none were more precious than the book of testimonies, a true gift from the heart.

Not long ago I visited with a group of women in Anchorage, Alaska. There were about 12 women in the room, and 6 more joined by speakerphone from cities and towns all over Alaska. Many of these women lived hundreds of miles away from the Church building. These women taught me about visiting teaching.
To make a personal visit to all of the sisters would require an airplane ride, travel by boat, or traveling very long distances by car. Obviously, the time and expense made in-home visits impossible. However, these sisters felt closely connected because they were fervently praying for one another and were seeking the guidance of the Holy Spirit to know what their sisters needed, even though they weren’t there in person very often. They managed to stay in contact by phone, by Internet, and by mail. They served with love because they had made covenants with the Lord and desired to bless and strengthen their sisters.

A second principle to guide our progress to become one is to be humble. Pride is the great enemy of unity. You have seen and felt its terrible effects. Just days ago I watched as two people—good people—began with a mild disagreement. It started as a discussion of what was true but became a contest about who was right. Voices became gradually louder. Faces became a little more flushed. Instead of talking about the issue, people began talking about themselves, giving evidence why their view, given their great ability and background, was more likely to be right.

I’m four years old! It’s my birthday, and I’m four years old!” said Jennifer, hopping four times around the kitchen.
“Happy birthday, four-year-old,” said Mother, smiling as she put four plates on the table.
“It takes all my fingers on one hand to count to four,” said Jennifer.
“That’s right, birthday girl,” said Daddy, laughing as he came into the kitchen to eat breakfast. “There are a lot of things that are four.”
On the table Jennifer saw four plates, four spoons, four forks, and four knives. There were also four napkins and four glasses.
“Happy birthday!” Stevie called as he came to eat breakfast. Now there were four people in the room. When Stevie smiled, Jennifer saw he had four teeth missing in front.
After breakfast, Jennifer skipped into the family room to feed her goldfish. “One, two, three, four fish,” Jennifer counted. “I’m four years old today!” Jennifer told the fish.
“Let’s go look for a lucky four-leaf clover, Jenny, before Daddy mows the lawn,” said Stevie. “But you better wear your sweater because it’s cold outside.”
Big brothers are fun and nice, Jennifer thought as she buttoned up her sweater—one, two, three, four buttons.
They looked in the clover patch near the flower bed for a four-leaf clover. But all they could find were clovers with three leaves. However, Jennifer did count four pretty finches eating at the bird feeder.
Later, she saw a white cat with four black feet creeping up on a mouse.
David who lived next door was pulling his red wagon with its four squeaky wheels. The milkman came to the door after breakfast and brought four bottles of milk. His milk truck had four wheels too.
Jennifer and Stevie finally gave up looking for four-leaf clovers and went back into the house.
“Surprise!” called four of Jennifer’s friends who had come to help celebrate her birthday.
After the children played games and ate ice cream, Mother brought in a birthday cake with candles flickering on it. The children sang “Happy Birthday to You” and then Jennifer blew out all the candles.
Can you guess how many candles were on Jennifer’s birthday cake?

As the family spent time together, the children could see not just how their parents worked but how they lived. And when the opportunity arose, their parents made the gospel a topic of conversation while they worked.

As their children grew, Brother and Sister Ordoñez often wondered if their children would listen. Would they obey? Would they want to know, like Nephi? Would they pass the gospel on to their children?

It may be too early to tell. But Brother and Sister Ordoñez have reason to hope.

Their older children are starting to pass gospel truths on. And the younger children are recognizing the importance of passing the gospel on too. “It’s hard sometimes to take counsel from your parents,” Juan says. “But I’m grateful for their help.”

“They didn’t just teach me how to cook beans and make tortillas,” Mayra says. “They have taught me the right path—to follow God.”

“Melanie and I just celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary with our family, walking in the paths of the land that our Savior made holy.
“Because this was a family trip—and not an official Church assignment—I wanted to be a dad and husband but also fulfill my calling as an Apostle to be a special witness of the Lord, wherever I may be. I prayed that God would put experiences and people in my path so I could be an instrument in His hands—and He heard my prayers.
“One such example was with a group of young humanitarian volunteers. We unexpectedly ran into most of the members of this group at Caesarea Philippi. I testified to them that as the Apostles of old proclaimed there that Jesus was indeed the Christ and the Son of the living God, I too could bear my solemn witness of the same. And I humbly do so!
“The next day, I began my morning with the prayer that if I could be put in the path of anyone who needed my love or testimony, then I would be properly directed. The location where we had planned to go for lunch was closed, so we went somewhere else. Not long after we sat down, the full group of young humanitarian volunteers from the day before entered as well. Their lunch plans had also been rerouted. We learned that one of the young men had cried the night before because he had missed the chance to meet an Apostle. Both of our prayers were heard, and God orchestrated our paths to cross—for the one.
“God hears our prayers. He answers the one. By divine design, He directs the details of our lives. He loves each and every one of us so very much. Just as Jesus Christ ministered to those in the Holy Land 2,000 years ago, He does the same for us today, wherever we are.
“I am grateful to be a witness to His power and His love, to make all things possible to them that believe. May it be so for each of us as we place our lives and hopes in His hands.”

In October 1880, during the Church’s Fiftieth Semi-annual General Conference, members of the Church sustained Elder Taylor as prophet, seer, and revelator. Following this sustaining, President George Q. Cannon, First Counselor in the First Presidency, acting under the direction of President Taylor, presented to the assembly a new edition each of the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price, which contained Joseph Smith’s 1838 account of the First Vision. He proposed that those present accept the books and their contents “as from God, and binding upon us as a people and as a Church.” Then President Joseph F. Smith, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, moved that the membership accept the books as containing “revelations from God to the Church.” By unanimous vote, leaders and members agreed that the First Vision and other material in the Pearl of Great Price and the Doctrine and Covenants was inspired of God.15

By this sustaining action, the First Presidency, the twelve Apostles (most of whom had been personally acquainted with Joseph Smith), and other Church members testified that the portion of Joseph Smith’s 1838 history that described his 1820 vision was a reliable description of an actual historical event.

It was an uncommonly warm spring evening in Port Alberni, the small mill town on Vancouver Island where I lived. I was looking forward to attending Mutual and spending some time with Latter-day Saint kids. I was friendly by nature but was nevertheless struggling socially both at school and at church. It was nights like this that I welcomed the interaction with them.
As was our habit, we were standing in the foyer of our new chapel chatting with each other. I spent little time on center stage in these conversations, and from my outside vantage point I spotted two sister missionaries coming in the front doors with a boy beside them. I recognized him from my neighborhood.
While her companion stood off to the side speaking to the boy, Sister Eaton, the senior of the two missionaries, approached us and said, “Look, you guys. We’re really excited about this. We’ve been working with him and his family for months, and this is the first time he’s agreed to come. Would you make him feel welcome?”
We nodded half-heartedly, said our hellos, and made a small opening for him to stand with us. He stood there looking awkward and uncomfortable, mostly staring at the floor. In comparison to most of us, he was poorly dressed and unkempt. We continued conversing for a few more minutes until the adult traffic became too cumbersome. We then slipped away to the rest room for more privacy.
All of us, that is, except this new boy. We were so caught up in our discussions that we didn’t notice him turn and walk out the door alone. Nor did we miss him in the rest room.
A few minutes later the bell rang for the start of opening exercises. We filed out of the bathroom, joking among ourselves. Just outside the door, however, Sister Eaton was waiting for us, tears pouring down her face.
“What’s the matter with you?” she cried out, more in disbelief than anger. “All you had to do was be friendly to him, to include him. Was that too much to ask?”
“Where’d he go?” I stupidly asked.
“What do you care?” she snapped back. “You won’t have to worry about him again. He won’t be back.” With that, she turned, gathered her companion, and left the building to look for the boy. It was a three-mile walk back to our neighborhood.
Stung by her chastisement, we filed quietly and sheepishly into the chapel. Even when the others began to revive their spirits, my conscience burned. I was deeply disturbed by what we had done. Later that evening after I returned home, I talked to my older brother about it. Having recently returned from college, he was soon to go on his mission. I respected his advice on spiritual matters.
“What do you think you should do about it?” Laurence asked me after I had blurted out to him the whole story.
“I don’t know,” I answered glumly. “What can I do now? Sister Eaton says it’s too late.”
By now Laurence sensed how upset I was.
“Maybe not,” he said with a tinge of hope in his voice. “The sisters should be home by now. I’ll call over there.”
Within five minutes Laurence had the boy’s address, and we began walking there together. Although it wasn’t far, it was getting dark as we crossed Third Avenue into the poorly lit part of town where the boy lived. I was glad my brother was with me. I didn’t know what kind of reception awaited us, and I was nervous.
We approached an old house that needed a coat of paint. Laurence checked the number under a street light and pointed toward it.
“That’s it,” he announced. Taking a deep breath, I headed toward the front door with Laurence at my side. I knocked quickly before my courage failed. My heart was pounding. A few moments later, a lady I assumed to be his mother answered the door. She looked older than I had expected and seemed tired.
“Hi, is your son here?” I asked.
“What do you want with him?” she asked suspiciously.
“He came to our church tonight and we kind of ignored him,” I stammered. “I wanted to apologize and to invite him back.”
She folded her arms and looked directly at us. I saw in her eyes the look of disgust with the way we had just treated her son.
Ignoring me, she looked over at Laurence and said, “Thank you for coming by, but I don’t think he’ll want to come back.”
As she began to close the door, Laurence made a last attempt to reassure her of our repentance. “The boys made a mistake, and I know they’re sorry. I know them. It won’t happen again.”
But the door had closed before he could finish. For the second time that night, I felt stung by my actions.
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” I asked apprehensively.
“I doubt it,” Laurence replied bluntly.
We said very little the rest of the way home. I had done wrong and I knew it. I had felt deep remorse, and I even tried to make restitution. But I had failed. I wondered why, after I had followed all the steps I had been taught, the Lord hadn’t recognized my repentance and lifted the burden of guilt from me. I felt awful.
The answer finally came from my heart. Inside I knew I hadn’t done enough. But I was too afraid to go back and try again. So I never did.
For me, this was a complete failure, one that I’m still deeply ashamed of. Yet in a curious way I learned an important lesson from it—one that still humbles me and reminds me of what it takes to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ.
“I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep” (John 10:11–13).
Whether I cared to admit it or not, I was no shepherd. I had fled like the hireling. I didn’t seek after what was lost until I found it. After only one try, I left the boy in the wilderness to the wolves. In my heart I wasn’t willing to pay the price of being a true shepherd.
Since that incident, I still see that boy in my mind’s eye and I wonder what happened to him. I still feel the responsibility for what I did and what I didn’t do.
I need to be a shepherd and not a hireling and to find joy in serving and including my brothers and sisters, whoever they may be.

Tenth grader Carrie Olson Falahi wanted to start a club, but her mind wasn’t on drama or a specific sport. It was on people. “I’ve always had this idea that I could get people to go out into the community and help other people,” she says.
Carrie, a Laurel in the Springfield Fourth Ward in Missouri, dreams of someday participating in worldwide humanitarian aid, and she didn’t see a reason to wait until after high school to start pursuing that dream. “I really wanted to do something now, so why not start here in my own community?” she says.
She enlisted the help of fellow 10th grader Victoria Sutter and freshman Rebecca Carr to create a new kind of club for their school, the Youth in Action Club. The goal: to spend time—not money—in service. “I think time and service are among the most meaningful things you can give,” Carrie explains.
Rebecca agrees, adding, “It’s fun to get involved in a cause.” Little did these friends know just how much they would gain by giving service to others.
They quickly discovered one of the blessings of service: it brings people together. When Victoria first heard about the club, she was enthusiastic. “I’ve always liked community service,” she says, “but it’s hard going out by myself and doing it.” The club solved that problem. At the very first meeting 20 students showed up, eager to participate. With such a large group, it was easier not only to serve but also to make friends.
Since the club’s beginning in February 2009, the three friends have learned other ways that spending time in service has helped them too. Striving toward the goal of having one project per month, Carrie, Victoria, and Rebecca had to work hard together to organize each event, especially as their group grew from 20 to 50 members.

As the time for me to serve a mission approached, I decided that I really needed to know for myself whether or not the Church was true. During this time, I had many discussions about religion with a close friend. Woody is an atheist and is very good at expressing his views in a logical and reasonable way. He is an intelligent person and someone I look up to, so I value and respect his opinions.
Before I met Woody I thought I had a strong testimony, but soon I wasn’t so sure. Woody’s views of atheism became more and more reasonable to me. Fortunately, there was always something in the back of my mind that wouldn’t let me give myself over completely to Woody’s way of thinking.
Finally one night just before my 19th birthday, after a lot of thought and prayer, I knelt down and asked Heavenly Father if the Church was true. I didn’t seem to receive any answer. I started wondering how I was really supposed to know. I had always been taught that the answers to our questions can be found in the scriptures, so I looked up the word know in the Topical Guide. The guide led me to Alma 5:46, where Alma explains that before he found the truth he had to fast and pray for many days—and he was a prophet of God! I read more and found that I couldn’t just fast and pray, but that I also needed to live in a way that would allow me to feel the Spirit.
Fast Sunday came, and I decided to fast for the ability to recognize the Spirit’s promptings. In that fast and testimony meeting, I received my answer. As I listened to the testimonies, a feeling flowed over my body and filled my soul with joy. I knew I had received my answer that the Church was true. When I got home, I went to my room, sat down on my bed, and thought to myself, “It is true! I really got an answer.” I received the same feeling again, a confirmation from the Holy Ghost. I knew the gospel was true! I never wanted that feeling to go away.
From then on, I knew that Heavenly Father answers prayers. I also knew he wanted me to serve a mission so I could share my knowledge and testimony of Jesus Christ with others.

On the day of tithing settlement, I was getting ready to go with my family to talk with the bishop. I couldn’t find my money. After looking in all the normal places for a while, I was getting worried that I couldn’t be a full-tithe payer. I prayed and felt prompted to look under the couch in our living room. The couch seemed like an unusual place to look, but I followed the Spirit and went to look there. My change purse with the money in it was right where I was prompted to look! I was happy that I followed the prompting and that I could go to tithing settlement and be a full-tithe payer. I am so glad that I received the gift of the Holy Ghost when I was baptized, because He will help me and guide me throughout my life.Ashley Field, age 9Wildwood, Missouri

President Heber J. Grant (1856–1945), seventh President of the Church, told of how President Taylor resolved a quarrel between two friends:
“These men had quarreled over some business affairs, and finally concluded that they would try to get President John Taylor to help them adjust their difficulties. …
“… They … asked [President Taylor] if he would listen to their story and render his decision. President Taylor willingly consented. But he said: ‘Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like very much to sing one of the songs of Zion for you.’
“Now President Taylor was a very capable singer, and interpreted sweetly and with spirit, our sacred hymns. He sang one of our hymns to the two brethren. Seeing its effect, he remarked that he never heard one of the songs of Zion but that he wanted to listen to one more, and so asked them to listen while he sang another. Of course, they consented. They both seemed to enjoy it; and, having sung the second song, he remarked that he had heard there is luck in odd numbers and so with their consent he would sing still another, which he did. Then, in his jocular way, he remarked: ‘Now brethren, I do not want to wear you out, but if you will forgive me, and listen to one more hymn, I promise to stop singing, and will hear your case.’
“The story goes that when President Taylor had finished the fourth song, the brethren were melted to tears, got up, shook hands, and asked President Taylor to excuse them for having called upon him, and for taking up his time. They then departed without his even knowing what their difficulties were.”18