Gospel Story Finder

His reports from those days are filled with touching stories. “I went to visit one sister whose husband was killed in action in Russia. She lived with no heat, no windows, no water. There was hardly any bedding. Two small children were in bed shivering. The mother was hard of hearing, and the oldest daughter, 11, was half-starved and frozen. The little girl had no shoes and little clothing. … We gave them warm food and clothing.
“I will never forget the thankful expression on the little girl’s face when she got underclothing, a dress, stockings, and new shoes. We also could help the mother and other little girl from the welfare supplies. We gave them a couple of blankets and a few other things. The family might well have frozen to death if they had not come to our attention.”

From the moment I first learned about the temple, I wanted to go there to learn and feel the Spirit, to be sealed for eternity to my family, and to make covenants with the Lord. But there are no temples in India, and I haven’t had the opportunity to travel to one yet. So many Latter-day Saints in India and I have said countless prayers, we’ve fasted, and we’ve held onto patience and faith that one day there would be a temple built in India.
During the April 2018 general conference, God answered our prayers as President Russell M. Nelson announced that a temple will be built in Bengaluru, India. I will never forget that day. The Spirit filled my heart with joy and my eyes with tears at the prophet’s words. I immediately thanked Heavenly Father for answering our prayers. And I am so excited to finally see and enter the temple in just a few years.
I am so happy and proud to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. I know that the Lord restored the true gospel on this earth through the Prophet Joseph Smith. I know that the temple is where we can grow closer to God, be sealed to our families, and learn more about our purpose. And while I wait for the temple to be built here in India, I am working hard to prepare myself to enter.
I’m praying and learning as much as I can about the temple, the covenants I will make, and the ordinances I will receive there.
I’m asking other members who have already been through the temple for advice on how to prepare spiritually.
I’m learning how to do family history work so I can bring my ancestors’ names to the temple.
I’m attending a temple preparation class.
I want to be ready for the day I can finally enter the temple and make it a priority in my life. I will strive to always be worthy to enter so I can receive promised blessings, direction, and answers to my prayers I have waited so long for. I can’t wait for that day.

When I was 17, I became familiar with some people who were caught up in some sensational stories about what they thought was historical information on the early days of the Church. As I listened to what they had to say, I felt uncomfortable.
That day I learned that there are many different voices out in the world, and some will try to lead us astray and make things seem different from what they really are. Some will seek to twist and distort the truth. It’s important that we spend as much time as we can in places where the Spirit can speak to us.

“I went to homecoming, and my date made it very clear to me he was going on a mission. It was one of the neatest things for someone to actually tell me he was preparing for a mission and that is why he has to make the right choices and do the right things. Also, my brother is a fairly new missionary, and he’s setting a really good priesthood example for my dad, and my dad already holds the Melchizedek Priesthood. It’s not only my dad who sets a priesthood example at home, but my brother too.”
—Amy Bennett, Madison, Wisconsin.

The Q&A section in the Feb. 08 issue gave me a good understanding of how my mom might feel when we fight. Ever since reading it, we haven’t been fighting. Thank you so much for all of the good advice you give. I really appreciate it.
Taylor W., Nevada

She Knew It Was True
Some years ago I attended one of our worship services in Toronto, Canada. A 14-year-old girl was the speaker. She said that she had been discussing religion with one of her friends at school. Her friend said to her, “What religion do you belong to?”
She replied, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Mormons.”
Her friend replied, “I know that church, and I know it’s not true.”
“How do you know?” came the reply.
“Because,” said her friend, “I have researched it.”
“Have you read the Book of Mormon?”
“No,” came the answer. “I haven’t.”
Then this sweet young girl responded, “Then you haven’t researched my church, because I have read every page of the Book of Mormon and I know it’s true.”
I too have read every page of the Book of Mormon, again and again, and I bear my solemn witness … it is from God.
Elder Tad R. Callister of the Presidency of the Seventy

Representing The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Dr. Kalilimoku Hunt, American Samoa’s Church communication director, presented digital copies of family history records to Governor Lemanu Peleti Mauga on 5 April.
The governor received with gratitude the records on behalf of the people of American Samoa. He also thanked the Church for helping the territory in many ways?in emergency situations, service projects, and donations to institutions such as LBJ Medical Center, Fatu-o-aiga, ASDOE schools, and emergency preparedness.
Also at the meeting was Mr. James Himphill, an esteemed American Samoan archivist and territorial historian who described the significance of preserving these invaluable records.
“These records date from 1900–1974 and were copied to microfilm many years ago,” he said. “The films were damaged and could only be saved by digitization to a computer format. They could have been permanently lost were it not for this work by the Church.”
Michael Higgins, the area manager for the Church’s FamilySearch program in the Pacific, led the team that did the record digitization. “We see these digital images as being much more than data. We see them as a crucial part of American Samoa’s history and culture. For this reason, we are especially grateful for the opportunity to be of service in this way,” he said.

The Prophet recognized in himself many weaknesses, but he set about to overcome them. He recorded that on one occasion a man came into his home and in a rage called him almost every name under heaven. The Prophet wrote that he was so incensed he kicked the man out of his house and all the way to the front gate. He then went back to his office and wrote in his journal how unbecoming of a prophet his actions had been. He never lost his temper again.

I’m not good at basketball. But for some reason, my friends still invited me to play. During one game, I hoped the ball would never come to me. Well, it did, and I decided to take a shot. As the ball flew toward the basket, I was sure it would miss. The ball hit the backboard and then fell through the hoop.
I made the shot!
My friends cheered as I stood in disbelief. I didn’t contribute much else to that game, but it felt good to be part of a team and to participate in my own small way.

The best experience of my life was the day I was baptized. My mom taught me that once I was baptized, I would be responsible for all my actions. The day arrived, and my dad and I were both dressed in white. I was nervous, but when I took my dad’s hand to get into the font, I knew everything would be fine. When my dad said the baptism prayer and put me under the water, I felt beautiful things in my heart that are hard to explain. Then I was confirmed and given the gift of the Holy Ghost. I am so happy that I was baptized. Just as Jesus Christ set an example for me, I am setting an example for my little brother. I know Jesus Christ lives and loves us.

Our daughter, Kathryn, is serving as the Primary president in her ward in Salt Lake City. My wife and I attended her ward last Sunday to observe the Primary sacrament meeting presentation, “I’ll Follow Him in Faith.” I was thrilled to hear the children recite scriptures and stories coupled with songs focused on faith in Christ.
After the meeting I asked her about her calling. She said that initially the calling weighed her down. Much time was spent going over problems. Then the presidency decided to emphasize love, faith, and prayer. Suddenly spiritual impressions came to mind about a particular child or family. Friction was replaced with love. She tells me that as they acted upon promptings from the Spirit, Primary reflected a reverence and peace, and real gospel learning was taking place.

by Judy Knight
Kidnapped! Many of the members of the Vacaville First Ward, Fairfield California Stake disappeared on the evening of May 27th! Where did they go? What happened? Who was responsible?
The circumstances leading up to their strange disappearance can be explained by the Vacaville First Ward Laurel class and their plans for an unusual, fun-filled evening.
Shirley McMurdie and Missi Bartanen spearheaded the advertising by printing airline tickets for Zion Airlines bound to Hawaii, which included an authentic luau dinner and entertainment.
As the guests arrived at the church in their gala Hawaiian attire and in a festive mood, they were asked to be seated in the waiting room until the departure of their flight. After the last call for boarding had been given, they entered the foyer between the chapel and cultural hall, which had been decorated to simulate the interior of an airplane. Nine-year-old David Knight had provided the artistic renditions of scenery along the way, including detailed U.S. Navy ships and submarines and groups of frolicking whales.
Two stewardesses, Lori Gould and Carrie Budge, gave out flower leis and pineapple tidbits, while the pilot welcomed everyone aboard and explained details of the flight. Suddenly, two hijackers, armed with water guns, appeared, speaking rapidly in Portuguese and demanding the plane change its course. The ward members had been hijacked to Rome, Italy!
The surprised passengers found themselves guided into the Relief Society room, which had been cleverly changed to a Roman cafe. A gourmet Italian meal was provided, beginning with antipasto trays covered with cheese, salami, olives, relishes, marinated mushrooms, and cauliflower. The second course was an Italian salad and breadsticks, followed by delicious Bolognese spaghetti and garlic bread. People laughed and lingered over a pretty Palermo Cassata dessert.
As the last dishes were cleaned and put away, the exhausted Laurels agreed it had been so much fun it ought to become a tradition!

These words in a priesthood blessing I received during a low week have also helped me understand faith: “I bless you with understanding and knowledge that God … will give you those things that will not only be for your good but … help you become all that He wants you to be. Those will not always be easy blessings, for our struggles and adversity are the things that make us grow.”

The smell of warm bread greeted Aiden as she walked through the door after school. She sat down, eager for a slice of bread with butter.
“Before you eat, will you please take this over to Brother and Sister Brown?” Mom asked, pointing to a small loaf she had just wrapped.
Aiden sighed, grabbed the loaf, and headed out the door. Sometimes she wished her mom would only make bread for her family. She trudged through the backyard and around the corner, slowing down when she saw the Browns’ house.
Brother Brown was in his eighties, but he still took great care of his lawn. Aiden and her brother, Patrick, would often see him mowing the lawn or trimming the hedges and bushes. He always waved when he saw them and usually talked with them over his white picket fence.
But Sister Brown was never outside. She had osteoporosis, which meant that her bones were very fragile and could break easily. She couldn’t walk very well, and it was painful for her to leave the house.
Today, Aiden didn’t want to visit with them. But even though she wanted to go back home for some of Mom’s yummy bread, Aiden tried to be happy as she opened the screen door and rang the doorbell.
Brother Brown opened the door, and a big smile lit up his face. “Why, hello! Come on in, Aiden!” he said.
Aiden felt a little better already. The Browns were always so nice and so happy to have company. Brother Brown dug into the candy jar and gave her a piece of butterscotch candy as he asked her questions about school.
Sister Brown looked like she was in a lot of pain. Her small body hunched over in her armchair as she wrote something down. Sister Brown was always writing in her journal, writing poems and letters, or making cards to send to her friends. Today she was writing a birthday card very slowly. Sometimes her hands shook, and it was difficult for her to print the words.
“Why do you write so many cards and letters?” Aiden asked.
“It gives me something to do,” Sister Brown said. “I can’t see my friends very often since I can’t leave the house, so I like to write to them to show I care about them.” She finished writing the card.
Aiden chatted a bit more with Brother and Sister Brown and then walked home. She thought about Sister Brown and how much pain she was in. She felt ashamed about not wanting to visit the Browns. “If Sister Brown can serve others, I can serve her too,” Aiden thought.
So whenever Mom made bread or cinnamon rolls, Aiden took some over to the Browns, often with Patrick or her sister, Emma. She and her family sang for the Browns, especially around Christmas. Dad even recorded Aiden, Patrick, and Emma singing so Sister Brown could listen to it.
A few years after Aiden graduated from Primary, Sister Brown passed away. Aiden and her family attended the funeral.
At the end of the service, the bishop surprised Aiden by asking the members of the congregation to stand up if they had received a card from Sister Brown on their birthday. Nearly every person stood up.
As she looked around at all the people that Sister Brown had remembered on their birthdays, Aiden smiled. She thought that she and her family had been serving Sister Brown, but she was wrong. Sister Brown had served them and so many others each day of her life.

I recently met a fine teenage young man. His goals were to go on a mission, obtain an education, marry in the temple, and have a faithful happy family. I was very pleased with his goals. But during further conversation, it became evident that his conduct and the choices he was making were not consistent with his goals. I felt he genuinely wanted to go on a mission and was avoiding serious transgressions that would prohibit a mission, but his day-to-day conduct was not preparing him for the physical, emotional, social, intellectual, and spiritual challenges he would face.7 He had not learned to work hard. He was not serious about school or seminary. He attended church, but he had not read the Book of Mormon. He was spending a large amount of time on video games and social media. He seemed to think that showing up for his mission would be sufficient. Young men, please recommit to worthy conduct and serious preparation to be emissaries of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

The next Tuesday after school, when Jimmy took Jenny’s doll to drive his dump truck, Jenny became angry and grabbed it back. When she looked up to call her mom and tell on Jimmy, she saw the picture of Jesus. She remembered that Brother Park had said they would be happier by remembering to love one another. She knew how to show love for Jimmy. She said, “I guess I’m not going to use this now. You can play with it, but please ask next time.” Jimmy was so surprised that he almost forgot to say thanks.

When Scott woke up in his grandfather’s den, he recognized the creaking noise even before he opened his eyes: Grandpa Max was hoisting his flag up the wooden flagpole in the front yard.
Today was the Fourth of July, but that wasn’t the reason that Grandpa Max was putting up the flag. He had hoisted “the old Stars and Stripes,” as he called it, to the top of that pole 365 days a year for as long as Scott could remember.
Two minutes later Grandpa was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hollering the familiar words, “Hey, buddy boy, get yourself down here. You’re on spud-peeling detail in five minutes.”
Scott groaned and rolled over. In a few hours about thirty-five relatives would spill onto the front yard for the big picnic that Grandpa Max hosted every year. This was Scott’s year to be cohost. His older cousin Jeff, who had held that title the year before, had told Scott that “cohost” translated into “free help,” and Scott believed it. His body ached from hours of washing windows, mowing the lawn, and carrying tables yesterday. And Grandpa evidently had much more in store for this morning.
“Well, it’s about time!” Grandpa Max grinned at Scott while sliding three slices of golden french toast onto a plate and passing the maple syrup to his grandson.
“I heard you out there with the flag, Grandpa,” Scott said between bites. “I guess it’s just another day for you.”
“Ooooh no, no, buddy boy. I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t ever say that.”
“Well, you do put the flag up every day. Why is that, Grandpa?”
Grandpa Max didn’t answer immediately. Instead he stood up and grabbed a ten-pound bag of potatoes off the counter. “Tell you what, Scott. You peel these; I’ll quarter ’em. You listen; I’ll explain.”
Scott shoveled in the rest of his breakfast and silently picked up the vegetable peeler. He knew that tone of voice, and it meant “Listen up.”

The potatoes were all peeled, quartered, and ready to boil, and Scott was still listening intently to his grandfather. “How come you never told me that story before, Grandpa?”
“Well, buddy boy, you never asked me before.”
“I think you should tell everyone today at the picnic, Grandpa,” I told him.
“Maybe I will, buddy boy. Maybe I will.”

At school, we were getting packed up at the end of the day. We got in line and started walking. As we passed the lunch area, my friend dropped his backpack and all his papers flew out. I went over to help him put his papers in his backpack. He said, “Thanks, Mark.” I said, “You’re welcome.” I felt nice.
Mark B., age 7, California

Sister Burton was attending the University of Utah when she met and married Craig P. Burton in August 1973 in the Salt Lake Temple. The couple decided not to delay starting a family; the first of their six children was born almost a year later.

Not long ago I had the privilege of attending a mission presidents’ seminar in San Francisco with Elder David B. Haight of the Council of the Twelve. He shared with us some thoughts from an author about growing old.
“Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years. People grow old only by deserting their ideals. … There is [always] the love of wonder, [a] childlike appetite for what [is] next, and the joy … of life. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear [or] despair. In the [center] of every heart there is a recording chamber; so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, and courage, so long are you young” (Douglas MacArthur, A Soldier Speaks, ed. Vorin E. Whan, Jr. [New York: Frederick A. Praeger, 1965], p. 313).