Gospel Story Finder

One day I visited a church three blocks from our house. When I rang the doorbell, the custodian answered. I told him I had two teenage sons who needed to belong to a youth group. “Do you have Boy Scouts?” I asked. He said yes.
Then I asked him if his church was based on the Bible. Again he said yes—it was based on the Bible and the Book of Mormon. He invited me to Church services the following Sunday. My 13-year-old son, Marcelo, was traveling with friends, so I invited my other son, Sergio, who was 15, to accompany me. He came, although reluctantly.
When we entered the chapel, several members greeted us in a friendly manner. An older man quickly introduced us to the missionaries, and they started teaching us the discussions that day. When Marcelo returned from his trip, he joined us in the discussions. The Spirit touched our hearts, and on 16 February 1980 my sons and I became members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My wife, Isabel, was baptized one month later.

One night when Zina started to get ready for bed, she found some unexpected “friends” underneath it. Joseph Smith had purchased four Egyptian mummies and some Egyptian papyri from which the Book of Abraham was translated. To keep these important relics safe from some of the enemies of the Church, the Prophet had asked the Huntingtons to hide them, which they did—underneath Zina’s bed! Unperturbed, Zina finished undressing and went to bed as usual.

I remember a personal experience that helped me learn to replace doubt with hope. I was serving as a stake president at the time. My children were small. My wife and I owned a tortilla-making business, and we worked long hours.

One of those nights, when my wife and I had to make tortillas from midnight until 3:00 a.m., three young men came to our shop. All three were high on drugs. Two of them wore ski masks and long raincoats. The raincoats hid their weapons. They threatened us, put us inside the shop, and closed the door. One stood guard outside, repeatedly shouting, “Kill them! Kill them!”

One of the young men put the barrel of his gun against my temple and forced me to lie down. The other put the barrel of his gun to my wife’s chest. I prayed that my children would not become orphans, and the Lord protected us. The robbers finally locked us in the bathroom and disappeared, driving away in my truck.

We escaped and called for help. The police came and so did my brother. As soon as possible, we took my wife home. Then my brother and I went looking, unsuccessfully, for my truck. Feeling very sad, I returned home at 5:00 a.m.

To my surprise, my wife and children were not there. A neighbor told me that my four-year-old daughter was suffering stomach pain, and they had rushed her to the hospital. Knowing that we would desperately need money for her care, I felt I had no choice but to return to the tortilla shop and fill the orders for the day. Since my wife and I were the only workers, I was alone, rushing like crazy, kneading, putting dough in the hopper, adjusting the size, running back and forth to finish tortillas and wait on customers.

By now it was 8:00 a.m. I began to reflect on the events of the night. The question went through my mind, “If you are the stake president, why is all this happening to you?”

I pushed the malicious thought aside and prayed for strength. Then I heard a voice behind me: “President.” It was my bishop and a brother from the ward, my home teachers.

The bishop said, “We don’t know how to make tortillas, so we can’t help you here. But don’t worry about your truck, your wife, your sick daughter, or your other children. You stay here and we will help you with the rest.” My eyes filled with tears of gratitude.

They took charge of everything but tortillas. That afternoon when I returned home, I found my house clean and tidy, my shirts ironed, and food waiting for me. No one was home, but I knew that the Relief Society had been there. The police had found my truck, and someone from the ward had paid to get it released.

I quickly went to see my wife and daughter. The bishop had been there and had given my daughter a blessing. She had appendicitis, but everything was under control.

As my wife and I talked, we were impressed that the bishop had not used fast offerings or items from the bishops’ storehouse to assist us. Rather, he used the resources and mercy of the members of our ward.

A few days later, while my daughter was recuperating and my wife was helping me in the tortilla shop, three women arrived. They were the mothers of the young thieves and had come to offer their apologies. They explained that the police had caught their sons. Later these mothers practically dragged their sons into the shop to ask forgiveness, and we forgave them.

Let me tell you of one young woman who has demonstrated remarkable strength in the face of great tragedy. On April 17, 1999, a big van broadsided a car and severely injured 16-year-old Emily Jensen. Her skull was fractured, and she was in a coma for three months, and six months in the hospital. She has had to learn everything again as if from birth. It would have been easy to give up, but giving up is not in Emily’s vocabulary. She works so hard at recovery that she runs the equivalent of a 26-mile marathon every day. Her faith, courage, and perseverance have strengthened and motivated many other hospital patients.
Emily is still working very hard to regain her speech. Even so, she fearlessly asks nurses, technicians, and therapists, “Are you a Mormon?” If they reply no, she tells them in her muddled sentences, “You should be. Read the Book of Mormon.” Emily dictated to her mother what she wanted written in five copies of the Book of Mormon that she gave to a doctor, three therapists, and a technician before she left the hospital.
Emily dearly loved one technician who had become totally inactive in the Church. They prayed together in Emily’s hospital room. In language that was difficult to understand, but with a spirit that was strong and clear, Emily told her that she needed to go back to church. That technician later wrote Emily: “I want to thank you so much for the Book of Mormon you gave me. I cried when I read what you wrote. I know someday I will love this book as much as you do.”
Emily’s life was recently brightened at Skyline High School in Salt Lake City. The student body picked her as this year’s prom queen in recognition of her extraordinary courage. Her classmates stood and cheered as she struggled to the stage of the packed auditorium, supported on the arm of the student body president. Though she continues to go each day for therapy, Emily’s life is still defined by her spiritual identity, her goodness, her kindness to others, and her strong testimony.

I have seen some of that in practice lately. A woman whom I had not met before came to my home and recounted her heartbreak at a marriage ruined by deceit and cruelty. She grieved for her young adult children, who were confused and wounded. She had served as a ward Relief Society president three times and as a stake Relief Society president. That service had shown her both irrefutable evidence of God’s goodness and mercy, and some of the difficult and painful realities that many suffer; even so, she was surprised at how unprepared she felt to face her own tragedy. At last she said, “All I can do now is cling to my faith in God and pray that my love of Christ and for my children will help me survive.” For the present, her pain had clouded her ability to see her own courage and resolve. In the midst of such trouble, she was steadfast in Christ, and her intent was charity. I knew she and her children still had much to endure and to work through, but the words from Moroni echoed for us both that “whoso is found possessed of [charity] at the last day, it shall be well with [her” (Moro. 7:47). Through her excruciating experience of sifting for the true nature of love, she was literally offering what God requires of each of us, a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Her offering was also building in her strength and peace.

I graduated from high school in 1992 and immediately turned in my papers to serve a full-time mission. At the time my call came, I had just been admitted to one of the best universities in Nigeria to study medicine.
In Nigeria admission into medical school is competitive and not to be forfeited. When I received pressure from some friends and family members to abandon my mission call, I explained that I had a responsibility to serve and had looked forward to doing so since I joined the Church six years before. I was sure I could get readmitted to medical school after my mission, but many thought I would regret my decision.
I am grateful to the home teachers, family members, and Church friends who supported my decision to serve. Attending seminary, studying the scriptures, and living the gospel enabled me to stand by my convictions.
As a missionary I set personal goals and worked hard. Twenty-four months later I received an honorable release. The Lord blesses returned missionaries but has not promised that they will be immune to trials. For the Nigerian returned missionary, those trials include unemployment and lack of funds for education.
During the first three years after my mission, I took and passed three entrance examinations, but I wasn’t readmitted to medical school. During those same three years, I couldn’t find a job. I was tempted to believe that some of my friends and family members might have been right and that it was a mistake to have forfeited my admission to medical school.
On my mission I learned to cast my burden on the Lord, so I let Him direct my life according to His will. As soon as I did, things started working out for me—but not as I had planned.
One fast Sunday I decided to fast and intently pray for the Lord’s help. That evening a knock came at the door. When I opened the door, I was astonished to see an acquaintance I had met during security training I had attended six months before. He told me that an opportunity for a security operative had opened in a company his elder brother worked for and that the company urgently needed to fill the position. I was the only person who came to his mind.
The next day the company hired me. That singular experience confirmed to me that Heavenly Father had not abandoned me and that I needed to trust in Him. The job proved to be a springboard to other jobs.
Divine blessings are not measured by temporal achievements alone. I struggled for years after my mission to find temporal stability, but the Lord blessed me spiritually. My patriarchal blessing directed me to get married and told me that the opportunity of higher education would come. It did.
Though I never went to medical school, I have earned the equivalent of degrees in accounting and mathematics. The Lord eventually blessed me with sufficient material stability that I was able to marry.
If we serve an honorable mission, the Lord is bound to bless us as we seek opportunities for higher education afterward. Nothing in the life of a young man or young woman can surpass the experiences, learning, and blessings of full-time missionary service.

The Lord often used parables relating to the land in teaching accountability and stewardship. When I was a small boy, I would visit my grandparents at their ranch during the summer. There was no electrical power, running water, or indoor plumbing. There was, however, a spring of water next to their small ranch house. The spring created a little pond of clear, pure water, where several times a day I would help my grandmother carry water to the house for drinking, cooking, bathing, and washing clothes. My grandparents loved this life-giving spring and took special precautions to protect it.
Many years later my grandfather was in his early 90s and did not live on the property; he was unable to maintain or oversee it. I drove him to see the ranch which he loved. His high expectations at seeing the ranch turned to disappointment when he realized the fences that protected the spring had fallen into disrepair and cows had damaged the spring and the precious, pure springwater had been significantly polluted. He was upset with the damage and the pollution. To him, it was a violation of a trust he had observed all his working life. He felt somehow he had not protected that life-sustaining spring which had meant so much to him.
Just as the pure spring was polluted when not protected, we live in a time when virtue and chastity are not safeguarded.7 The eternal significance of personal morality is not respected. A loving Father in Heaven has provided us with the means to bring His spirit children into this world to fulfill the full measure of their creation. He has instructed us that the wellsprings of life are to be kept pure, just as the beautiful spring on the ranch required protection in order to sustain life. This is one of the reasons why virtue and chastity are so important in our Father in Heaven’s plan.
Because of my grandfather’s reaction to the polluted spring, improvements and protections were undertaken which returned the spring to its original beauty and purity.

Brother and Sister Rozsa soon realized their three identical sons presented them with some special opportunities. One family home evening the parents and daughters decided they would read the entire New Testament by the end of the year.
“We figured out how many pages a day we would have to read to finish and talked it over, never dreaming that the boys, who were only eight years old, would be able to read the New Testament,” recalls Sister Rozsa. “But they didn’t realize they weren’t really a part of the conversation, so they started reading along with us. By the end of the year, each one had finished the New Testament along with the rest of the family.”
Brother Rozsa, now serving as a member of the Los Angeles Temple presidency, says he feels this incident taught his sons a lot about success. “They learned very early that if they stuck with a task they could be successful at it. We believe in our family that you can do anything if you set priorities and then follow them.”

When President Kimball died, we were living in Arizona. President Kimball had been in our home. We had knelt with him in family prayer, and he had eaten bread and milk with us. We knew he was a prophet of God.
I wanted a witness of the Spirit that President Benson was God’s chosen prophet. I wanted to know more than that he was just a good person and next in line after President Kimball. The Lord was kind to me, and, after fasting and prayer, I received, by the Spirit, the witness that President Benson was indeed God’s chosen prophet for this time, with a special calling and a special message for our day.

Evan, a young Primary-age boy, decided to spend his summer vacation from school gathering supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to donate to his local food bank. He found the project on the JustServe website. Young Evan enlisted his entire school class to help collect over 700 jars of jelly! Let the people you serve know that your concern for them is rooted in your love of God and your desire to treat your neighbor as yourself.

I lived in Nigeria, West Africa, for a few months. In our branch was a precious little child. She was seven years old and weighed only 10.5 kilograms. Often as I would enter our rented chapel, I would see her sitting on the back bench. I loved to pick her up and take her to the front with me and hold her during the meetings. It was as if she would soak up all the love that I had in me, and more.

Once at Christmas time I was holding my little friend, and it was announced that we would be singing “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, 95). A prompting came to me to sing it not to myself, as the words say, but to the little girl. It was a powerful, sweet, unforgettable experience for me, and I hope for her as well. As I sang my version of the text—He lives to bless you with his love, to plead for you above—I realized that the great blessings outlined in the hymn could come into the life of this little girl, and into the lives of others, through me. As an instrument in the Lord’s hands I could comfort others when they are faint, I could take time to hear their soul’s complaint, wipe away their tears, calm their troubled hearts, and love them to the end, just as the hymn tells us that the Savior does these things for us. But he needs my participation, he needs my willingness to serve, to be an instrument in his hands. He wants me to stop and help others. He wants all of us to stop and help those in need; to be good Samaritans.

Despite Grandma’s illness, everything she does for me is because she loves me.
Photograph courtesy of the author
“Where have you been, my child?” my grandmother asked as she answered my knock on her door. I had just returned from a full-time mission to El Salvador. Grandma’s eyes brimmed with joy at seeing me again. Her arms felt soft and warm as she wrapped them around my neck.
We had a fun conversation as I answered her questions about my mission. I became emotional as I told her about the people, food, hard work, and miracles of my mission. After I had finished, she suddenly became quiet. Then she asked, “Where have you been, my child?”
Apparently, she wasn’t listening. So, we started our conversation again. Barely 20 minutes later, she asked for the third time, “Where have you been, my child?”
Something was wrong. I soon found out that about a year after I had left on my mission, my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.
I felt a great desire to help Grandma. For two years, I had preached the love God has for His children. Now I had an opportunity to live those teachings. Though I knew it would be difficult, I offered to move in with her so I could help her.
The first few months were the hardest. As in the mission field, having patience and controlling frustration became a full-time job. And as during my mission, I had to accept God’s timing and purposes as I learned to love my grandmother as Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love her.
Living with Grandma is sometimes like living with three different people. Sometimes she cannot bear to have someone else in the house. Sometimes she wants my care and attention, happy she isn’t alone. Sometimes all she can think about is what to feed her grandson who just returned from his mission. “Don’t do that!” can quickly become “Why don’t you do that?”
My grandmother, nevertheless, has been a great blessing to me. I know that despite her illness, everything she does for me is because she loves me.
My grandmother’s sweetest and most sincere words come every time I return home from school or work. With a tender look, she hugs me, kisses my cheeks, and lovingly asks, “Where have you been, my child?”

Mara loved making people smile. She made her schoolteacher smile when she raised her hand to ask questions. She made her sister, Marcella, smile when she said nice things to her.
Then Mara would smile too. It felt good to help other people be happy.
But there was one time each week when Mara hardly ever smiled. That time was early Sunday morning. That’s when Mara and Marcella were always the most tired. Rushing around to get ready for church made them extra grumpy. Then there was the long walk to church. It was more than a mile away! Mara and Marcella often got there late. They would miss the first part of Primary.
“We miss you when you’re not here on time,” Sister Lima said one day. She was the Primary president of their ward in Brazil.
Mara knew she should get to church on time. But how? Then Mara got an idea. The next Saturday night, Mara decided to try something new.
Instead of sneaking bedtime snacks after dinner, Mara brushed her teeth. Most days Mama had to remind the girls to turn off the TV and go to bed. Even then they would play and whisper under their covers until late at night. Sometimes they stayed up so long they could hardly keep their eyes open. They had to wiggle to keep from falling asleep.
Tonight Mara put on pajamas and hopped right into bed. Mama didn’t even have to remind her. She started looking at the pictures in the front of her Book of Mormon.
“What are you doing?” Marcella asked.
“A test,” Mara said. Her mind was full of happy thoughts. Plus she was already feeling sleepy.
The next thing Mara knew, the sun was peeking through her window. It was almost time to get ready for church. Instead of feeling yucky, Mara felt great. Her head didn’t feel fuzzy. Her body didn’t feel tired.
She got to Primary even before some of the leaders.
“Thank you for being such a good example to the other children,” Sister Lima said.
Now it was Mara’s turn to smile. She decided she would always go to bed early on Saturday. That way she would be able to spread smiles all Sunday long.

Brother Ephraim Pheto is one person who has embraced the principles of self-reliance in his life. (He has given me permission to tell his story.) Upon coming back from his mission, he worked for a small printing and adverting company—and started developing himself by getting involved in self-study programs in graphics. Soon after, he was able to start a small business that enabled him to provide for his family.
He wasn’t satisfied by just doing graphics—and after much prayer and consultation with his family—he decided it was best for him to continue his studies. He then identified a gap in the market and studied project management. This opened a new stream of revenue for him, which led him into the construction industry. (Brother Pheto loves working with his hands.) He now finds himself out of the office more than before; but importantly he is able to provide for his family, pay an honest tithe, and serve in the Church. He is known by many within his community as the ‘go-to person’ when it comes to anything—installing electricity, building, welding, and many other construction services.
He also went a step further by planting a garden in his yard where he grows items like spinach and onions. This means that he saves money that he would have spent on purchasing vegetables by growing his own. His obedience to the principles of self-reliance has blessed him and his family and has inspired others around him to strive to do the same.

Have you ever gone on a hike? How about a 10-mile hike to the top of a mountain and back? Alex Wright achieved this awesome feat at the age of five!
Last summer, Alex’s dad took some older boys on a hike to Humphreys Peak in Arizona. Alex really enjoys being with the older boys, so he was excited to go along. He is a strong, athletic boy, and he was already an experienced hiker.
Alex packed his backpack with a water bottle, a change of clothes, and a few of his favorite action figures. His dad carried their tent and sleeping bags, along with all of their food and water.
On Friday evening, Alex and his dad set up their tent about a mile up the trail. Early the next morning, after a prayer, they started out for Humphreys Peak. Along the way, Alex shared his red licorice with the other boys.
Halfway through the hike, the group reached a dip in the mountain. It was a hot, windy day, and flying ants were on the attack. Then came the steepest part of the trail—above the timberline, where it is too high for trees to grow. After a few more hours, Alex, his dad, and the other boys reached the top of the mountain. Other hikers cheered for Alex as they saw him arrive.
On the return trip, the clouds grew dark, and hail started pounding the mountain. Alex and his dad took cover and said a prayer, asking to be protected. Everyone was safe.
When they finally reached the bottom, Alex was happy to hop into the van and go home to his mom and younger brothers. He had had an awesome adventure he will always remember.

When I was young, my family was not active in the Church. My parents were good people, and they taught my brothers and me to make good choices. We always knew they loved us and wanted us to be happy.
In my home, my parents expected us to obey. Every Saturday was “work day.” Dad was a doctor, so he got up very early to go check on his patients. Before he left, he wrote a list of chores on our big chalkboard. Every week we tried to do the chores as fast as we could. But somehow the chores always lasted the whole day!
It wasn’t terrible, though. We liked spending time together. Mom made us lunch, and Dad came home to eat with us. We all took a break and sat outside together. We were happy when we obeyed.

“I forever am amazed by nature and its beauty,” says Marlies Hammerl, Laurel class president from the Salt Ash Branch, Newcastle Australia Stake. “One aspect of nature I especially enjoy is the night sky and the glorious stars.” Marlies will now get to study those glorious stars more in depth after being awarded one of only 12 Stellar Astronomy Scholarships offered to young women in New South Wales, Australia.
“It is easy to be grateful for all the blessings I have and realize that I, like the stars, need to let my light shine even though my two sisters and I are the only members at my school.” Marlies travelled to Sydney last April, where she was awarded her scholarship by the Governor General of Australia.
Marlies adds, “I am just so grateful that I have taken heed of our prophets’ counsel, to gain the best education that we can. It’s definitely important to strive in all you do.” In other words, we should reach for the stars.

President and Sister Kasue and their children, along with many others, fasted and prayed that the Church would be officially recognized in Kenya. “Sometimes in family prayer I would forget to pray for the registration of the Church in Kenya,” President Kasue remembers. “My children would remind me and say, ‘Oh, Dad, you didn’t pray for the registration of the Church.’ My children had strong faith.” When official recognition was finally received on 25 February 1991, many wept, prayed, and fasted as an expression of gratitude.

In the spring of 1829, Mary and Peter Whitmer welcomed Joseph and Emma Smith and Oliver Cowdery into their home so the translation of the gold plates could be completed. The demands on Mary’s time were high. She cared for nine people in her own home and assisted her married children who lived nearby.
Mary’s five sons and both of her (eventual) sons-in-law became official witnesses of the gold plates in June 1829. That same month, Mary received a witness of her own.
Outside her home, a gray-haired man with a knapsack over his shoulder approached Mary and said, “My name is Moroni. You have become pretty tired with all the extra work you have to do.” Taking the knapsack off his shoulder, Moroni continued, “You have been very faithful and diligent in your labors. It is proper, therefore, that you should receive a witness that your faith may be strengthened.” He then revealed the contents of his knapsack—the gold plates.1
Mary became a witness of the gold plates, like the Three Witnesses and Eight Witnesses, whose testimonies are in the introductory pages of the Book of Mormon. Mary’s humility and diligence prepared her to be a witness. Her testimony isn’t written in the introductory pages of the Book of Mormon, and her name isn’t on plaques, monuments, or the minds of many Saints who came after her. Although her daily contributions in her home and family likely went unnoticed by many, they were known by God.

Hans let his light shine brightly, even through hard times.
When he was six years old, he fell and broke his arm. That accident became a great blessing. His mom was planning to move to the United States and leave Hans in Ecuador with her sister for a time. “But when he broke his arm,” she says, “I realized Heavenly Father was telling me not to leave my son. If I did, he wouldn’t be able to go to church.”
That’s when Hans’s mother, Antonia Yolanda Nieto, was baptized. Since that time, her testimony has continued to grow and she has received her endowment in the Guayaquil Ecuador Temple. Hans was the missionary who brought his mother to the light of the gospel.