Gospel Story Finder

Still, things weren’t perfect after that. Most of my family was not happy that I joined the Church. My dad even offered me a brand-new pickup truck if I would just forget about it. But my brother Roger supported me. When I told him I wanted to serve a mission, he told me to give it 110%. Whether I was serving a mission or not, he told me to always do my best.
When I told him I wanted to serve a mission, he told me to give it 110%.
I tried to prepare the best I could by studying the scriptures, praying, and going to a mission prep class. While I was on my mission in North Carolina, I lost myself in the work and did my best to follow Roger’s advice to give it 110%.
Ten years later, I lost my dad to cancer. Even though he and I had hard times, I love him so much. As I leaned down to hug him and say “I love you” one last time, he said something I will never forget. He told me he was proud of me and that he was glad I served a mission. Two years later, Spencer got to baptize me for my father in the temple.
My family may not have approved of my joining the Church, but because of their unfailing love and the example of my friends and their families, I was able to serve a mission, be married in the temple, and help my dad after he passed on. I am grateful to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

In northern Germany where I live, winter’s snowstorms had taken their time coming. So I didn’t pay any attention to the prediction of snow on the radio that particular morning. If the weather does happen to change, I thought, I’ll already be home. I left to catch the bus—not warmly dressed at all.
By the time school let out, it was snowing heavily, and after I got off the bus, I had to ride my bike the rest of the way home. I was angry with myself for ignoring the weather forecast on the radio.
The sharp east wind blew against me, and small snowflakes whipped into my face like a thousand pins. An icy shiver crawled over my body. The way home was not only difficult but painful.
When I finally arrived home, I changed clothes and watched the snowstorm from the comfort of my room. It occurred to me then that life can be compared to my experience that day.

Jill* stumbled around our shared room in the motel where we were staying with the rest of our high school basketball team, ranting about why she’d do something so stupid as to drink beer. She fell across me, pinning me to my bed. I tried to push her off, but she was about a foot taller than I was.
Then, with her nose way too close to mine, she asked a question I’ll never forget: “Deb, why can’t I just be like you?”
Like me? What? Jill had complete athletic control of her six-foot four-inch frame. She got good grades in tough classes, and the previous week she’d accepted a full ride scholarship to play ball at an elite university. So why did she want to be like me?
I was confused, especially given her treatment of me during the past few months. We both played volleyball too, and our volleyball team elected me captain. Jill made it clear she didn’t think I was fit for the honor. Slyly, quietly, Jill used hurtful comments to isolate me from the team. She claimed I was jealous of her and made fun of my missed plays and personal habits. A promising season fell to an early loss in the state volleyball tournament, resulting in a huge squabble among our players. Tempers flared, and fingers were pointed.
In an effort to patch things up, our basketball coach assigned us to share the same motel room. Now here lay the drunken MVP of the tournament. After I finally moved her to her bed, I listened to her snore and worked on the puzzle in my mind.
What did I have that she could want? I began to list my blessings. I had parents who supported me and a future that didn’t rely on making every shot I took. I knew who I was—a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me. I knew the Savior and the power of His Atonement. Tears welled in my eyes as the Spirit bore witness of the truth of the gospel and the power of living it.
That experience started my quest to understand those who are unkind and to see them through the Savior’s eyes. From that moment, our basketball season moved forward and ended successfully. We didn’t take state, but we made it to the semifinal game as a close-knit team, not as finger-pointing individuals. My greatest hope is that Jill saw the Savior’s image in my countenance for the remainder of our senior year.

“I have a surprise!” Ema (Mom) said when she picked Rasmus up from school. They walked together down the narrow streets lined with colorful buildings.
“Rosolje for dinner?” Rasmus guessed hopefully. They had eaten it just last week for his seventh birthday. But he could always eat more beet-and-potato salad with pickled herring!
Ema shook her head with a smile. “I met two young women on the bus this morning. Missionaries. They’re coming to visit tonight to talk about their church.”
Rasmus looked up curiously. He had never met missionaries before.
He was in his bedroom playing with his fire truck when the missionaries came. “Tere! Tere! Hello!” they greeted Ema as they walked into the apartment. They removed their heavy boots and put on the house slippers Ema kept for visitors. Ema led them over to the couch. But Rasmus hung back by the door.
The taller woman noticed him and smiled. Her black name tag said Õde Craig (Sister Craig). “Your mother told us you just had a birthday,” she said. “We brought you something.” She held out a small card. Rasmus looked at it closely.
It was a picture of a man. He wore a white robe, and his hand was stretched out.
“Do you know who that is?” Õde Craig asked.
Rasmus didn’t know the man’s name. He had never seen this picture before. But the man looked kind and powerful. “I think he’s a king!” Rasmus said.
Both missionaries smiled. “Yes, He is! He is the King of kings! His name is Jesus Christ.” Õde Craig pulled out a book with a blue cover. “And this is a book that teaches about Him, the Mormoni Raamat. The Book of Mormon.”
Rasmus and Ema began reading the Book of Mormon every day before he went to school. During school, Rasmus and his class went on nature walks and then took a nap. After school, he and Ema often met with the missionaries. They talked with the missionaries about what they had read in the Book of Mormon. Sometimes Ema fed everyone kringel, braided cinnamon bread. On weekends he and Ema rode bikes or picnicked on the beach. Sometimes they took long walks in the forest or along their favorite river.
On one of those forest walks, Ema told Rasmus she wanted to be baptized. Rasmus grinned. The missionaries had asked Ema to pray about whether or not to get baptized. It sounded like she had gotten her answer!
“And I know just where I’m going to be baptized,” she told him with a smile. “Can you guess?”
Rasmus thought about the missionaries’ lesson on baptism. They had held up a picture showing Jesus with John the Baptist in a river …
“The river!” he exclaimed. “Our favorite river.”
One week later, Rasmus stood on the riverbank with the missionaries and some other people from church. Ema was ready to be baptized. She went all the way under the water, just like Jesus did. When she came up, she was smiling. Rasmus wanted to remember this moment forever—the blue water, the white wildflowers in the green grass, and his mother’s smile.
“What did getting baptized feel like?” he asked later, when everyone was eating cookies the missionaries had brought.
“Wonderful,” she told him. “I wanted to stay in the river forever. I feel so new!” She hugged him tight.
“For my next birthday, I want to be baptized, just like you and Jesus,” he told her. “I want to feel new too!”
The boy in this story lives in Estonia. You can read more about his country on page 14.

President Heber J. Grant called Harold B. Lee into his office one morning.
President Grant: Tomorrow you will be sustained as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Harold: But, President Grant, do you really think that I am worthy of this call?
President Grant: My boy, if I didn’t think so, you would never be called to this position.
That night Harold couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was the foolish mistakes he had made in his life and about all the people he might have offended. He knelt to pray.
Harold: Heavenly Father, I will love and forgive every soul that has walked the earth. I pray that Thou wilt forgive me in return and make me worthy to be Thy servant.
The next day, he nervously went to the temple and was ushered into the room where the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles meet with the First Presidency.
President Grant: Take a seat here, Elder Lee.
Elder Lee: Imagine all the great men who have sat in this room, in these chairs!
After the ordination, one of the Apostles gave Elder Lee an assignment.
Apostle: Now, you know that after having been ordained, you are a special witness of the Lord Jesus Christ. We want you to give the Easter talk on the radio next Sunday night.
Elder Lee went into a room in the Church Office Building to read Bible accounts of Jesus’ life. As he read, he realized that he was having a new experience.
Elder Lee: I can almost see the events as if they are happening right now!
Elder Lee learned that every Apostle receives a special personal witness of Jesus Christ. When Easter Sunday came, he was ready to speak.
Elder Lee: I am now the least of all my brethren and want to witness to you that I know, as I have never known before this call came, that Jesus is the Savior of this world. He lives, and He died for us.

A woman who is now a mother of 11 children, dreamed in college of the lights of the stage, while taking classes in philosophy, economics, and political science and majoring in theater. Now she’s on her own stage performing magnificently well. She has chosen to enrich, protect, and guard the home. This past summer she and another Mormon woman ran a campaign from their homes and were elected as two of four delegates to help choose a new leader for a political party. These same women later organized a rally in the city park on an issue they felt strongly would negatively affect life in their province in Canada.
I asked this sister how she manages to be so influential. “You have to know parliamentary procedure in public meetings,” she replied. “If you do, you can safeguard democracy and your home by using the rules effectively.”
“When and where does one learn these rules?” I asked.
She laughed and said, “Last night at supper, it went like this.”
Sarah: “Honorable chairman, the soup is good.”
Chairman: “Can I have a motion to that effect?”
Sharon: “I move that we go on record stating the soup is good.”
Chairman: “Could I have a second?” Seconded. “Any discussion?”
Amy: “It’s too spicy.”
Chairman: “We will proceed to vote.”
The results of the dinner: The soup passed. The jam passed unanimously. And the motion in favor of the water was tabled for another time pending further investigation.

I learned about those realities from a wise teacher nearly 25 years ago. I spoke in an ancient theater in Ephesus. Bright sunlight flooded the ground where the Apostle Paul had stood to preach. My topic was Paul, the Apostle called of God.
The audience was hundreds of Latter-day Saints. They were arranged on the rows of stone benches the Ephesians sat upon more than a millennium before. Among them were two living Apostles, Elder Mark E. Petersen and Elder James E. Faust.
As you can imagine, I had prepared carefully. I had read the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles, both those of Paul and his fellow Apostles. I had read and pondered Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians.
I tried my best to honor Paul and his office. After the talk, a number of people said kind things. Both of the living Apostles were generous in their comments. But later, Elder Faust took me aside and, with a smile and with softness in his voice, said, “That was a good talk. But you left out the most important thing you could have said.”
I asked him what that was. Weeks later he consented to tell me. His answer has been teaching me ever since.
He said that I could have told the people that if the Saints who heard Paul had possessed a testimony of the value and the power of the keys he held, perhaps the Apostles would not have had to be taken from the earth.
That sent me back to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I could see that Paul wanted the people to feel the value of the chain of priesthood keys reaching from the Lord through His Apostles to them, the members of the Lord’s Church. Paul was trying to build a testimony of those keys.

As mission president, I attended a mission Relief Society conference. Our mission Relief Society president, a relatively recent convert, announced something of a course correction. Some local societies had strayed, and she invited them to conform more closely to the direction set by the general presidency of the Relief Society.
One sister in the congregation stood and defiantly told her that they were not willing to follow her counsel, saying they were an exception. A bit flustered, she turned to me for help. I didn’t know what to do. I was not interested in facing a fierce woman. So I motioned for her to proceed. Then came the revelation!
This lovely Relief Society president, small and somewhat handicapped physically, said with gentle firmness: “Dear sister, we’d like not to take care of the exception first. We will take care of the rule first, and then we will see to the exceptions.” The course correction was accepted.

Recently I visited with the family of a young mother who died while giving birth to her fifth child. I expected anguish but found hope and determination. Her husband cherished the time they had together. Their children understood the plan of salvation and knew they could be with their mother again, forever. She had never been too busy for those most dear to her. At her young age, this sister had served as a Relief Society president, always putting her marriage and family first.
As I visited with the mother of the deceased woman, she remarked that her highest priority was to raise her daughters to be righteous women. Even though her daughter’s life was cut short, this daughter created a tapestry of righteous gospel living in her home.

Today was the Primary program, and Brayden was nervous. He had practiced and practiced his part. But he was scared to talk in front of so many people.
“I don’t want to go to church today!” Brayden said. “It’s too scary to say my part.”
Mom gave him a big hug. “I know it can be scary to talk in church. But you have practiced a lot. I know you can do it.”
“Should we say a prayer?” Dad asked. “We can ask Heavenly Father to help you be brave.”
Brayden nodded.
Mom, Dad, and Brayden knelt down and folded their arms.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Mom prayed, “please help Brayden be brave. Help him to be able to say his part.”
After the prayer, Brayden got into the car, and they all drove to church.
Brayden was scared as he sat on the stand with the other kids. But he remembered the prayer. It helped him feel a little better.
Soon it was Brayden’s turn to talk. He looked out at the people smiling up at him. There were Mom and Dad! He took a deep breath. Then he said his part loud and clear. He even remembered all the words.
“You did such a good job,” Mom said after church. “It looks like our prayer was answered.”
Brayden smiled. “Heavenly Father helped me!”
They walked back to the car together. “How did you feel inside?” Dad asked.
“I was still scared, but it was OK,” Brayden said. “And I felt good after I said my part.”
“Do you know what that good feeling was?” asked Mom.
Brayden thought for a moment. “I think it was the Holy Ghost.”
“I think so too,” Mom said. “And even though you were scared, the Holy Ghost helped you be brave.”

The final Saturday, having put the bikes on the train the day before, the weary travelers boarded to return home. There was plenty of room to stretch out and relax, and soon they were snoozers, not bikers.
Somehow, though, when the train finally halted in San Jose and they had to remount their cycles for another seven-mile jaunt to the chapel, they seemed almost eager to be riding once again. Soon they would be home recuperating, sharing a slice of their saga with their families.

This summer I injured a shoulder and lost the use of an arm for weeks. I hadn’t realized how much one arm depends upon the other for balance, or how much less I could lift with one arm than two, or that there were some things I couldn’t do at all. This disability not only renewed my respect for those who deal so well with a physical limitation, but helped me realize how much more two arms working together can do.

I had great pleasure in training a well-bred colt. He had a good disposition, a clean, well-rounded eye, was well proportioned, and all in all, a choice animal. Under the saddle he was as willing, responsive, and cooperative as a horse could be. He and my dog Scotty were real companions. I liked the way he would go up to something of which he was afraid. He had confidence that if he would do as I bade him, he would not be injured.

But my horse Dandy resented restraint. He was ill contented when tied and would nibble at the tie rope until he was free. He would not run away; he just wanted to be free. Thinking other horses felt the same, he would proceed to untie their ropes. He hated to be confined in the pasture, and if he could find a place in the fence where there was only smooth wire, he would paw the wire carefully with his feet until he could step over to freedom. More than once my neighbors were kind enough to put him back in the field. He learned even to push open the gate. Though he often did damage that was provoking and sometimes expensive, I admired his intelligence and ingenuity.

But his curiosity and desire to explore the neighborhood led him and me into trouble. Once on the highway he was hit by an automobile, resulting in a demolished machine, injury to the horse, and slight, though not serious, injury to the driver.

Recovering from that, and still impelled with a feeling of wanderlust, he inspected the fence throughout the entire boundary. He found even the gates wired. So for a while we thought we had Dandy secure in the pasture.

One day, however, somebody left the gate unwired. Detecting this, Dandy unlatched it, took another horse with him, and together they visited the neighbor’s field. They went to an old house used for storage. Dandy’s curiosity prompted him to push open the door. There was a sack of grain. What a find! Yes, and what a tragedy! The grain was poison bait for rodents! In a few minutes Dandy and the other horse were in spasmodic pain, and shortly both were dead.

How like Dandy are many of you young people! You are not bad; you do not even intend to do wrong; but you are impulsive, full of life, full of curiosity, and long to do something. You too are restless under restraint, but if left to wander without direction, you all too frequently find yourselves in the environment of temptation and too often are entangled in the snares of evil.

The second story happened this year with our present quarterback, Robbie Bosco. We were playing the University of Pittsburgh. They were preseason ranked third in the country. We were leading 3–0 in the third quarter and had a good drive going. Robbie threw a bad pass. It was intercepted and returned for a seventy-yard touchdown. Pittsburgh led 7–3. They kicked off to us, and on our second play, Robbie threw a pass that ricocheted off the shoulder of one of our receivers. It was caught by a Pittsburgh defensive back and returned to our 15-yard line. Four plays later, Pittsburgh scored and went ahead 14-3. I thought to myself, “This will be a good chance to see what Robbie is made of.” In fact, with the next possession of the ball we drove down the field and scored. And then, with three or four minutes remaining in the game, Robbie moved our team the length of the field and threw the winning touchdown pass to Adam Haysbert. Right then, I knew there was no question that Robbie was going to be a great quarterback.

Here is one instance from an official account. During fighting in Somalia in October of 1993, two United States Army Rangers in a helicopter during the firefight learned that two other helicopters near them had fallen to the earth. The two rangers, in their relative safety aloft, learned by radio that no ground forces were available to rescue one of the downed aircrews. Growing numbers of the enemy were closing in on the crash site.

The two men watching from above volunteered to go down to the ground (the words they used on the radio were to “be inserted”) to protect their critically wounded comrades. Their request was denied because the situation was so dangerous. They asked a second time. Permission was again denied. Only after their third request were they put down on the ground.

Armed only with their personal weapons, they fought their way to the crashed helicopter and the injured fliers. They moved through intense small arms fire as enemies converged on the crash site. They pulled the wounded from the wreckage. They put themselves in a perimeter around the wounded, placing themselves in the most dangerous positions. They protected their comrades until their ammunition was depleted and they were fatally wounded. Their bravery and their sacrifice saved the life of a pilot who would have been lost.

They were each awarded posthumously the Medal of Honor, their nation’s highest recognition for bravery in the face of an armed enemy. The citation reads that what they did was “above and beyond the call of duty.”

But I wonder if they saw it that way as they moved to the downed airmen. Out of loyalty they felt a duty to stand by their fellow soldiers, whatever the cost. The courage to act and their selfless service came from feeling that they were responsible for the lives, the happiness, and the safety of comrades.

Sunday mornings are the best because they mean cinnamon French toast! My mom lets me stir the batter and put the French toast on the skillet. It is the one breakfast that makes me really happy.
One Sunday, I realized how quiet the kitchen sounded. I couldn’t smell the cinnamon in the air that fills the house on other Sundays. That’s when I saw it: the horrible pink note on the fridge. It said, “Fast Sunday.”
My mom came out to remind us that it was fast Sunday. I was really sad. I still wanted French toast!
My mom sat me down on the couch and hugged me. She told me that fasting helps our relationship with God and brings us closer to Jesus Christ. I also learned that fasting is a way to strengthen our prayers. It’s like giving our prayers a power-up.
I had no idea that fasting was so special. I suddenly felt excited again. But this time it wasn’t about French toast. It was about fasting! I thanked my mom and ran straight back to my room. I sat and thought about who I wanted to fast for that day. I had to make it count because this was not just any prayer. It was a power-up prayer, a prayer with a boost because I was fasting.
I knelt and started my fast. After I was done with my prayer, I felt so good, and I wasn’t hungry anymore. I hugged my mom, then said thank you for teaching me about fasting. The rest of the day I felt peace. When the day was over, I ended my fast with a prayer. Food never tasted so good!

Elder Holland: Matthew 7:16 says, “Ye shall know them by their fruits.” For example, even when our children were very young, they could recognize their mother’s devotion to the gospel and the role that a woman plays in it. They were often with her as she served her Relief Society sisters. Sometimes they had to pray that our old car would start. They saw her in an old coat trudging through the snow to care for Relief Society sisters in New England. They were only little, but they’ve never forgotten that. They saw their mother’s sacrifice and faithfulness, and as a result our daughter is a Latter-day Saint woman deeply committed to service, and our sons have deep respect and admiration for the commitment and devotion of our daughters-in-law. It is clear from their mother’s example that our children know the crucial, exalted place of women in their lives and in the kingdom of God.

When I was in my 20s, I had to take a very hard exam to get into a prominent business school in France. I had been studying long hours every day for two years. But I always went to church and institute and fulfilled my Church responsibilities.
The most important part of the exam was the interview. I had an interview with one school, and when they found out I was a member of the Church, it didn’t go well.
Then I took the exam with the school I wanted to go to most. After some time in the interview, the interviewers started asking questions about what I did outside my studying hours. I knew that it was a go/no-go question for me. But I decided in a second I would be faithful to my principles.
I said, “I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” and then I spent 15 minutes explaining what I did in the Church.
The director of the school said, “You know, I’m glad you said this. When I was a student, I studied in the United States, and one of my best friends was a Mormon. He was a great man, a very kind person. I consider the Mormons to be very good people.”
What a relief! I was one of the first candidates that year to be accepted to this school.
There are two lessons out of this story. First, we shouldn’t underestimate the influence we have on others. Second, we should always be faithful to our principles. Make your best effort, and the Lord will help you with the rest.

Paul Reid, Pacific Area manager of the Church’s Welfare and Self-Reliance Services, knew about SolarBuddy through a previous project.
“Randomly, one morning I woke up with the idea of having thousands of our Church youth and young adults light the world at Christmas with a gift for thousands of children around the Pacific who often do not have light to read or study after the sun goes down,” he said.
Carl Maurer, who worked with Mike Malouf in coordinating the effort, said, “This lighting the world will be a blessing to those in energy poverty locations in the Pacific, where not only the receiver is blessed, but the giver also.”
Tehina Avaeoru of French Polynesia shared one way she felt blessed as a volunteer assembler of SolarBuddy lights: “This activity was very uplifting because we were able to help others,” she said. “I really felt the Spirit (of God) and the love we can have for each other.”
Fellow volunteer Tamarua Richmond agreed. “To have done it with friends was even better. It was a great atmosphere. We all had our part to play and I’m glad we did it.”
Todd Miller from Hamilton, New Zealand, said, “Today has been a fantastic opportunity for young and old to do something for someone else this Christmas season. We hope these small lights will make a big difference.”
When Jiovilisi Seniceva heard about the SolarBuddy humanitarian project, he thought about the people in the outer islands of his homeland of Fiji. “Many don’t have light in their homes, and I hope this project can help,” he said.
Church Welfare and Self-Reliance employee Peniette Seru joined a group of Church members who visited a small village in Fiji’s south to deliver SolarBuddy lights to families.
She smiled as she recounted her experience distributing lights to young people who live in homes with no electricity. “One hundred and fifty other lights were donated to a children’s heart hospital (in Suva) to be given to children who come in from outer islands,” she said.
Not only did volunteers assemble lights, but they also wrote notes to each future recipient.
Australian volunteer Yvette Barnes wrote in a letter to a light recipient: “We hope that every time you use this light, you know this is made with love from me.”
Reflecting on her experience, she said, “For every person here, there’s a good vibe, good energy. We’re feeling the love.”
From this project that began as a “lightbulb idea,” thousands of children will see the world in a new light.
“We are inspired by Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, and His example of bringing light to those who sit in darkness,” Elder Wakolo said. “We hope our small gifts of love and light—made possible by the Australian charity, SolarBuddy, and by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—will brighten hearts, homes and futures.”

A cornet led Wayne S. Peterson to one of his earliest spiritual experiences. He learned to play the instrument as a teenager growing up in Roy, Utah. He was a member of the Ogden Utah Boys’ Chorus and Trumpet Choir, a group that was invited to perform at the Kiwanis International Convention in Atlantic City, New Jersey. As part of the trip east, the boys also had the opportunity to visit the Sacred Grove and the Hill Cumorah near Palmyra, New York.
“It was one of the defining points in my life,” remembers Elder Peterson. “The Spirit that I felt there, the assurance of what had occurred there, sank deeply into my heart.”