Gospel Story Finder

My doctor told me I have diabetes and that I would need to take shots of insulin before every meal. I was really sad because the disease would be with me the rest of my life. I asked my dad to give me a priesthood blessing. During the blessing he told me that I would have courage and be tough enough to take the injections. My mom and I went to the hospital to spend the night. I practiced using a needle to inject water into oranges because oranges are kind of like human skin. At dinnertime, the nurse asked me if I wanted to do my own injection. I said, “Yes, I will try.” I did it! The nurses were amazed that I was brave enough to do my own shot the first time. I have done all my own injections and blood sugar tests since the very first day. I know that my priesthood blessing helped me to be brave. I know that Heavenly Father will always be there to help me.Christopher Hall, age 10,Mountain Home, Idaho

As I spoke in general conference 25 years ago, I introduced a visual aid who stood beside me. It was my eldest grandson. He had recently received the Aaronic Priesthood and been ordained a deacon. I took the opportunity on that occasion to address my remarks to him on the importance of receiving the Aaronic Priesthood.
I said to my grandson:
“I am not overly pleased with worldly conditions that you and other young men are inheriting as you assume your role in moving toward manhood. While those of us who are older have been of an age and position to influence the world, I believe we’ve greatly failed you in what we have allowed the conditions in the world to become. This places you in a position where many of those with whom you must associate have not been reared with an understanding of or respect for traditional values. Thus, peer pressure becomes much more difficult and extreme.
“We have brought into our homes radios, record players, and television sets. While each has the potential of providing wholesome entertainment, so much of what has been produced for our listening and watching pleasure is not of the caliber to inspire and encourage young men. In fact, most of what is produced is degrading. The flip of a switch right in your own home has the potential of destroying within you a sense of what is right and what is wrong” (“I Confer the Priesthood of Aaron,” Ensign, Nov. 1985, 46).
I also taught my grandson Terry four lessons based on the story of Daniel in the Old Testament. I told him to (1) keep his body healthy and clean, (2) develop his mind and become wise, (3) be strong and resist temptation in a world filled with it, and (4) trust in the Lord, especially when you need His protection.
I closed my counsel to Terry with these words: “These stories in the scriptures will never grow old. They will be just as exciting for you when you are reading them as a deacon, a teacher, a priest, a missionary, a home teacher, an elders quorum president, or whatever the Lord calls on you to do. They will teach you to have faith, courage, love for your fellowmen, confidence, and trust in the Lord” (Ensign, Nov. 1985, 48).
I am happy to report that Terry has been faithful to the charge I gave him 25 years ago. He later received the Melchizedek Priesthood, served a faithful mission, currently serves as an elders quorum president, and of course is a father of a beautiful daughter.

The oars lapped softly in the still water as Warren rowed his small boat through the marsh. The stars had disappeared, and a pale pink light showed on the horizon. Almost in unison the birds began their joyful crying and squawking, rising up from cattails and grassy patches of land, some circling above or soaring into the sky. The noise surrounded Warren. His skin prickled and his heart pounded with excitement as he watched the wild ducks and geese, a few gray herons, and some small marsh birds whose names he didn’t know yet.
Warren tried never to miss this moment of first light on the marsh. The excitement of the birds thrilled and fascinated him. And after he’d found a nest hidden in the tall grass along the far shore, the experience became even more exciting. Warren stepped out of the boat into the soft mud and pulled it up onto the bank. He stretched and looked around him, watching the ducks take off from the water into the sky.
Here in the marsh Warren didn’t miss his old friends too much. And it didn’t seem so important to him that he had made no new friends. His father managed the reserve where they lived. It was several miles out of town and in the six months that Warren had lived there he felt strange and different among the other kids. They had called him a sissy because he wouldn’t go shooting sparrows with them.
Warren loved all animals, but especially birds. He never tired of watching them. Now he turned and walked stealthily along the shore again, hoping to find the hen off her nest so that he could examine the eggs more closely. When he parted the tall grass, his heart was pounding. He knelt and studied the blue-gray eggs cradled snugly among the downy feathers the hen had pulled around them. She was nowhere in sight, so Warren relaxed and peered closely at the eggs, wanting to touch them but knowing he shouldn’t.
Suddenly the loud twang of a slingshot startled him. He jumped up and saw a small marsh bird spiraling out of the sky. It splashed softly into the water.
“I got one!” someone near Warren suddenly shouted. Then two boys splashed out of the high cattails. When they saw Warren they stopped, and Warren recognized them from school—Tom Jenkins and Steve Peterson.
“Do you think he saw us?” Tom, the smaller one, whispered.
“How could he help it? He’s right here. But if he knows what’s good for him he won’t tell anyone.”
“This is a game reserve,” Warren declared. “It’s against the law to kill birds here.” He moved closer to the nest, hoping they wouldn’t see it.
“Hey, look!” Tom called. “There’s a nest right there in the grass.” Both boys looked at the nest.
“So this is why you’re out here prowling around,” Steve said, smiling at Warren in a sneering kind of way.
“You’d better not bother those eggs, or you’ll be in even more trouble,” Warren warned.
“Smash them, Tom” Steve urged. Tom stepped around Warren and raised his foot above the nest.
“Don’t do that!” Warren yelled, “I won’t tell.”
Tom paused, his foot still in the air, and looked at Steve.
“Is that a promise?” Steve asked.
“Yes, I promise,” Warren answered.
“Come on, Tom.” The two boys turned and walked away from the shore toward town.
Warren stood for a long time looking after them, then went to his boat and rowed home.
All day in school, Warren thought about the nest and about Tom and Steve and the bird that had fallen into the water, dead. He knew he should tell his father, but he had promised not to. They still might come back and smash the nest anyway, he worried. At lunchtime he saw Tom and Steve in the hall, but they pretended not to see him.
After school, Warren walked very slowly up the dirt road from the bus stop, still thinking about what he should do. He wondered how long he’d have to wait for the day when he’d part the grass and see three tiny naked geese in the cloudy down of the nest or if it might never happen. Tom’s big ugly foot could crush the eggs with one smash. Warren didn’t like to think about it. He breathed in the moist spring smells all around him and heard small animals scurrying through the underbrush. He couldn’t understand why some kids wanted to destroy beautiful living things. If he told his father about Tom and Steve, they’d tell his classmates how he’d squealed, and everyone would hate him. Still, Warren knew he would eventually have to tell. If he didn’t, the bullies might be even more destructive. He couldn’t stand to have kids killing birds, especially here on the reserve.
Warren could see his father near the shed, squatting down with a pan in his hands. He was feeding a small animal. The boy was curious and began to run, but stopped when he saw the black and white fur of a skunk. He approached his father slowly, stopping a short way off. The skunk looked up at him, but when he didn’t move, it began eating again. “Dad, why are you feeding a skunk?” Warren asked softly. “He might spray you.”
His dad smiled. “He only does that to his enemies. I’m making him my friend.”
Warren looked at the skunk. Its thick black and white fur gleamed in the sunlight. It ate quickly from the pan and then ambled off toward the woods. His father stood up. “How was school today?”
“All right,” Warren said. He knew his dad was waiting for him to go on, but he didn’t know what to say. They began walking toward the house, Warren watching the shadows of the new aspen leaves on the dirt path. His father put his arm on his son’s shoulder. “Dad,” Warren began, “should you always keep your promises?”
“Yes, you should,” his father replied.
“Even if you’ve promised to do something wrong?”
His father was quiet for a minute. “I see what you’re asking now. No, I think that would be one time a promise should be broken.”
“I think I’d better break one then,” Warren said. “I saw two boys from school shooting birds in the marsh this morning.” His father looked at him sharply. Warren told him about the nest and about the boys’ threat to smash it if he told.
His father was silent again for several seconds. Finally he said, “You did the right thing to tell me, son. When you see someone breaking the law, you have an obligation to report it.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have promised not to tell,” Warren said.
“Probably not, but I can see why you did.”
“What will happen now?”
“I’ll talk to their fathers tonight, and they’ll be fined.”
“But what if they come back and smash the eggs?” Warren reminded him, shuddering. “The least they’ll do is beat me up at school,” he added.
“I think they’ll be afraid to come back into the reserve once they know that I know about them, but it’s true that they might want to beat you up. Maybe you can think of a way to turn them into friends,” Warren’s father suggested.
“Friends! I don’t want to be friends with guys who shoot birds and smash eggs,” Warren retorted. He felt angry that his dad would suggest something like that.
“Maybe they don’t understand about birds and animals the way you do. Maybe they haven’t had a reason to think about it much.” His dad smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder. “Let’s go in and eat.”
All through dinner and chores and homework, Warren thought about what his dad had said. He didn’t want the eggs crushed, and he didn’t want to be clobbered by two bigger boys either. He didn’t much want them for friends, but maybe it was the best choice if it could be done. However, it didn’t seem likely that they’d want to be his friends after he’d told on them.
Warren waited up for his dad to come back from seeing Tom’s and Steve’s parents, but when he came in all he said was, “I’m going up the canyons to stock the streams with trout on Saturday. You want to go?”
“Sure,” Warren answered. He usually went with his dad to stock the streams, and it was always exciting.
“Better get to bed now,” his dad said.
“But what happened at Tom’s and Steve’s?” Warren asked.
“Nothing much. They have a fine to pay. Good night, Warren.”
Warren stood for a minute as his father picked up the newspaper. Then he went up to bed. He lay awake for a long time, thinking about Tom and Steve and about how he might possibly make friends with them. He thought, too, about the fun of stocking the streams on Saturday and seeing hundreds of tiny fish squirming wildly in the water and then taking off downstream. Finally Warren knew what he could do. “It wouldn’t hurt to try,” he murmured.
The next day during the lunch hour, he saw Tom and Steve standing together near the drinking fountain in the hall. Warren’s heart was pounding as he walked toward them. They were waiting for him, glancing at each other.
“So you told after all,” Tom said.
“Our dads are making us pay the fines out of our own money. No allowance for four months, and it’s your fault,” Steve said. “You broke your promise, and you’re going to pay, just as soon as we catch you off the school grounds.”
Warren stood for a few seconds, his stomach churning with fear. Then he said what he had planned. “On Saturday my dad’s taking me up the canyons to stock the streams with trout. Do you guys want to go along?”
Steve and Tom looked at each other, surprised and speechless.
“It’s really fun,” Warren said. “He takes millions of little fish and puts them in the water. And while we’re there he’ll probably show us badgers’ dens and stuff like that. Later on when fishing season opens, I can show you some of the best fishing places.” Warren stopped, a little breathless. “You want to go?”
Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his feet. “Well, yeh, I guess so.” Steve glanced at Tom. “You want to go, Tom?”
“Sure, if you’re going. Maybe we could beat him up while we’re there.”
“You crazy? With his dad there?” Steve laughed and jabbed Tom with his elbow.
Tom laughed too. “Sure, we’ll go,” he said.
“What time?”
“Early,” Warren replied. “I’ll let you know the exact time on Friday.”
The bell ran, and kids raced past them.
“See you later,” Warren called as he ran to his class.
All afternoon Warren had a peaceful feeling. He knew his dad would be proud of him too. Making friends with Steve and Tom is an even bigger accomplishment than making friends with a skunk, he decided.

I often felt concerned about my obligations until I read the First Presidency Message in the May 1999 Liahona (English). I loved the message “Life’s Obligations” by President Gordon B. Hinckley. I felt this message was given just for me, as it showed so many ways to improve. I read this message three times and immediately discussed it with my friends, who were able to see that a living prophet is a great blessing.
Nkemakolam Collins Nkemakolam,Rumuomasi Ward, Port Harcourt Nigeria Stake

As the Swiss movers were packing our household belongings preparatory to our return to America, the doorbell rang. A special-delivery mailman had a package for us. When opened, it revealed a green pillow with an embroidered message of love on it, the handiwork of Sister Alice Rusterholz. Our hearts and feelings swelled as we thought of this wonderful older sister. For four years she had graced our Sunday dinner table with her sweet spirit and lively sense of humor. For many years as a single, unmarried sister and the only member of the Church from her family, she struggled to come to church. Early Sunday morning she would leave her humble second-floor apartment. With great effort due to a crippled leg, she would walk down the outside stairway and on to the Küsnacht train station, beginning her journey of one hour and 15 minutes by train, tram, bus, and a final walk to our meetinghouse. What a blessing it had been for us in that beautiful land to pick up Sister Rusterholz every Sunday morning, accompany her to church, and conclude with dinner in our home before returning her to her apartment.

It was at this point that things began to happen. We taught the gospel to a thirteen-year-old girl whom we baptized. She brought her nonmember friends. I feel sure she was sent to us. We organized the youth programs, and served refreshments at every meeting in a recreation center we set up in the back yard. We used the missionary discussions for lessons.

I owe much of my happiness to a man I have never met. He was one of my great-grandparents. He left me a priceless heritage of hope.

His name was Heinrich Eyring. He was born into a wealthy family in Germany, but both of his parents died when he was young. He was left without any money. He felt that his best hope was in going to the United States. He moved to Missouri. There he worked with a man who was a Latter-day Saint. He gave Heinrich a copy of a Church pamphlet. Heinrich read it and studied every word he could find about the Latter-day Saints. He prayed to know if there really were angels that appeared to men, whether there was a living prophet, and whether he had found a true religion. After two months of careful study and prayer, Heinrich was told in a dream that he should be baptized. On March 11, 1855, Heinrich was baptized in a pool of rainwater.

Heinrich left a written history for his descendants. In that history I can feel his love for those of us who would follow. I feel his hope that his descendants might choose to follow him on the path back to our heavenly home. He knew it would not be one choice to make, but many small choices.

Like my ancestor Heinrich, you may be the first in your family to make sacred covenants.

Heinrich was a pioneer in President Eyring’s family. Who are the pioneers in your family? Look at the pictures below. One shows a pioneer family in the early days of the Church. The other shows a pioneer family today. What is the same about both pictures? What is different?

I had the special honor and privilege of being the last person called as a General Authority by President David O. McKay before his death. As I visited with him in his apartment, I found him to be advanced in years and a very weak man in physical strength: his body was frail, his voice was soft, and words did not come easily. I sat quietly, waiting for President McKay to advise me as to the purpose of the appointment. Finally, in a still voice of perfect mildness, he said, “I want you to help me.” That was my invitation, that was my call to be a General Authority. That was one of my unforgettable quiet experiences with President David O. McKay.

After leaving his apartment, I felt that I had a better understanding about the Savior’s calling of his associates. Whether it be on the shores of Galilee or in the market place or paths of life, I’m certain that his invitation could have been nothing more that “I want you to help me in proclaiming the gospel and being special witnesses for me.” This experience more than twenty years ago brought to me a closeness to President McKay, a man I had loved, admired, and respected over the years.

I will always be grateful to him because he quietly called me, expected me, and wanted me to perform special service with him. I left my occupation and former business activities and responsibilities to help him as a prophet. I tremble today in remembering the called me with a whisper that pierced my soul.

This past month I watched a young couple draw enormous strength from the sealing promises of the temple as their precious baby boy was born but lived only one week. Through the ordinances of the priesthood, this young couple and all of us receive comfort, strength, protection, peace, and eternal promises.5

Hi, I’m Micaela!
Each summer, my stake has a food drive to collect food for a food bank. I was sad to learn that some kids don’t get dinner every night, I know how grumpy I feel when I’m hungry, so I wanted to help with the food drive.
Spreading the Word
A food bank gives food to people who don’t have much money. I wanted lots of people to help donate. A few weeks before the food drive, I brought flyers to my school teacher. She passed out more flyers to other teachers.
Running for a Reason
I decided to run the one-mile race that was held as part of the food drive. I practiced in my neighborhood so my body would be ready to run a whole mile.
Gathering Donations
Some races you have to pay money to enter. For this race, runners were asked to donate food instead of money! My parents and friends gave me food to donate.
Ready, Set, Serve!
It was a hot morning, but I finished the race. I ran the whole time without stopping. I even got a medal for finishing!
Sorting the Food
After the race my family and I went to the parking lot of a local grocery store to sort the donations that went to the food bank.

Twin sisters Leah and Ellison C., age 6, Utah, USA, liked the talk by Elder Costa about praying for help. “Sometimes school is hard for us, especially for Leah because she was born with Down syndrome,” Ellison said. “When she’s having a hard time in our class, I know I can say a silent prayer asking Heavenly Father to help her understand. I know He helps and loves both of us.”

My first experience in understanding how I, as a woman, was set apart with priesthood authority occurred on my mission. My companion and I had been invited to attend a Bible study. Throughout the meeting, the power that accompanied our words was noticeable. It felt as though the Spirit was confirming that my companion and I were set apart and authorized to teach the gospel on the Lord’s behalf.
That first experience led to many more instances where I realized that I can access priesthood power as a woman.

Before I came on my mission, I had similar feelings. I decided to meet with my bishop. Through his inspired direction, I was able to learn to recognize the Spirit more fully and realize that I truly did have a testimony of the restored gospel. Now I get to help others recognize that Spirit and come to know those same truths.Elder Chris Stevenson, 21, Indiana Indianapolis Mission

Heber C. Kimball was ordained an Apostle in 1835 by the Prophet Joseph Smith, who considered him a man of great integrity. Two years later, while sitting in the Kirtland Temple, the Prophet Joseph whispered to Elder Kimball that the Lord wanted him to go on a mission to England. He would be the first Church missionary sent to a foreign country, a thought that was overwhelming to Elder Kimball.

“The idea of such a mission was almost more than I could bear. … I was almost ready to sink under the burden which was placed upon me,” he said. But despite the inadequacy he felt, Elder Kimball accepted the call and went to England. “The moment I understood the will of my Heavenly Father, I felt a determination to go at all hazards, believing that He would support me by His almighty power, and endow me with every qualification that I needed.” (See History of the Church, 2:489, footnote.)
Elder Kimball had the faith of Nephi. He knew that “the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).

My father helped me see the consequences of trying something “just once.”
He and I are industrial mechanics. One day he suggested that I should go to work wearing a white shirt instead of my regular work clothes. I couldn’t do that, I said. The shirt would be badly stained by the grease and powder from the machinery. Oh, it’s all right, my father replied; it’s only for one day. But again, I protested that the stains and dirt would be difficult to remove. That’s when he explained that trying alcohol or tobacco “just once” would be like wearing a white shirt to work. The alcohol and tobacco may not harm my body, he said, but using them even once would harm my spirit.
Sin is like grease; it stains us, and the stain can be hard to remove. Repentance is possible, but it is never easy. It is better to never sin—even if it is for just one time, or just a little bit.
Fábio Máximo, 20,Campinas Fourth Ward, Campinas Brazil Stake

I knew and admired his two young adult children, Charlotte and Morgan, who had been baptized a few years earlier in 1991 while I was serving as president of the France Bordeaux Mission. After meeting Charlotte and Morgan, my wife, Kathy, and I were amazed at their goodness.

Morgan wrote me recently about his baptism and making covenants, saying: “Before [I found the gospel], I was an 18-year-old atheist, yearning for real happiness but not knowing where to find it. The Holy Ghost touched my heart so strongly that I didn’t want to disappoint my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. That’s why I have kept my baptism and temple covenants and have worked to be someone who honors those covenants.”1

Regardless of their circumstances, when the opportunity came, Morgan and Charlotte chose to make covenants with the Lord and have been transformed because of it.

Like many others, I have often been inspired by beautiful works of art and music. One such occasion was when I stood before a masterful painting created by the Danish artist Frans Schwartz titled The Agony in the Garden.1
This achingly beautiful painting depicts the Savior kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane. As He prays, an angel stands next to Him, enfolding Him in gentle arms, offering comfort, heavenly succor, and support.
The longer I contemplate this painting, the more my heart and mind swell with inexpressible feelings of tenderness and gratitude. I can sense, in small part, what it must have been like to be present as the Savior began His great culminating work of mortality by taking upon Himself the sins of the world. I marvel at the infinite love and compassion the Father has for His children. I am overwhelmed with profound gratitude for what the sinless Son did for all mankind and for me.

About this time, a second miraculous reunion occurred. On one of my monthly business trips to Portland, Oregon, approximately four hundred kilometers from our home in Seattle, Washington, I checked into a hotel I had never used before. To my amazement, the luggage attendant that assisted me with my bags was Deuce’s long-lost twin brother, whom we had believed to be dead.
Ace was overjoyed to see an old friend and to learn the whereabouts of his twin brother. A reunion was quickly arranged, and Ace, divorced and living alone, welcomed the opportunity to provide a home for Deuce.
My family kept close contact with “Uncle Deuce” until his death, prematurely brought on by his frailties and years of drinking. But he had found the gospel and had made many wholesome and eternal friendships.

Four days after the pioneers entered the Salt Lake Valley in July 1847, President Brigham Young selected the site for the Salt Lake Temple. Those four hectares became Temple Square, the hub not only of Salt Lake City but also of the Church.

I never seemed to quit gossiping. I didn’t think of how it affected other people but instead thought only of what I would gain from it. I thought I could become more popular by knowing everything about others.
One day I received an invitation to a friend’s party. When I arrived at the party, I met a girl I disliked. While she was in another room watching TV, the rest of us formed a circle. We began to talk about how mean the girl was and how we hated her.
One of my nonmember friends stood up, looked at everyone, and said, “We shouldn’t talk behind someone’s back, no matter how mean they are. It’s not right.” She then left the circle.
Everyone disagreed with her but me. I was speechless. I stood up and left the circle too. I thought to myself: “You knew better. Your example hasn’t been the right one.” I began to cry.
I realized that I had been hurting others. My friend had shown great courage; I had been too scared to think of standing for truth and righteousness. That night I repented. I promised Heavenly Father that I would try to do the right thing and be a good example to others no matter what situation I’m in.