Gospel Story Finder

Photo illustration by Leslie Nilsson
After taking last place in the 880-yard race for the fourth meet in a row, the enthusiasm I once felt for track was beginning to fade. It wasn’t just losing; it was the fact that I could barely finish my races.
One night while reading the Doctrine and Covenants, I read section 89, the Word of Wisdom. Verse 20 says, “And [ye] shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.” That was a promise I wanted. I didn’t smoke or drink, but I remembered the coach saying that consuming soda pop and sugary foods could make breathing difficult in longer races. I decided to cut back on them and also thought I’d try eating something besides hamburgers every day for lunch.
With those thoughts in mind, I knelt by my bed in prayer. I remember promising the Lord I would keep the Word of Wisdom and stick to my diet so that He could bless me to do my best.
I had my temptations. My friends were doing fun activities after school while I ran the bleachers around the football field. My brother and sister slept in while I woke up early to jog. A cute guy offered to buy me a soda at lunch, and I had to tell him I preferred milk. And some friends decided to sit and talk rather than do our exercises and weightlifting in gym, forcing me to do my workouts alone. I found inner strength from keeping the commitment I had made to myself and to the Lord.
The day of regionals was a warm day. We were divided into two heats according to our previous times, so I was in the slow heat. This was the first race I had felt good about, win or lose, since I started track this year.
“Runners, take your mark!”
“Get set.”
The starter’s pistol went off. I sprang forward, each step in unison with the rest of the pack. I was holding fourth place, but the rest of the runners were gaining on me. A thought came to mind: “I have kept the Word of Wisdom; I CAN DO THIS!”
I focused on third place and pushed myself harder. New energy exploded in me, and I was gaining on them. The runner in second place was only a few feet ahead, so I reached out with all my mind and body.
The girl in first place was starting down the straightway just as I was turning the last bend. She was 5 feet ahead of me with 20 feet to go. With all the energy I could muster, I reached and stepped—go, go, GO!
I raised my arms and crossed the finish line first. A natural high glowed within me. My time was slower than all the runners in the fast heat, so I didn’t get to participate in the state track meet, but I knew the feeling of running and not being weary and of finishing a race and not feeling faint. I understood then what was meant by “a principle with promise” (D&C 89:3). I knew it was true when the Lord said, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say” (D&C 82:10).

I raced from math class to my locker. I couldn’t wait to meet my friends for lunch. Starting middle school was pretty scary. But after a few weeks I had made some new friends. I could even make it to my classes without getting lost!
When I got to my locker, I saw my new friends standing around Alex. They were looking at something he was holding.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“It’s Alex’s lucky day!” Josh said. “He went to the library to buy a mechanical pencil, but someone put too much money in the machine, so he got an extra pencil for free!”
Alex held out the pencils for me to see. They had green and blue stripes with yellow erasers.
“Wow,” I said. “But … what about the person who lost the money?”
“Come on, Maya. Whoever lost it is long gone,” Josh said. “It’s their fault they put in too much money.”
“Well, yeah, but the money still belongs to someone else, doesn’t it?”
Alex’s smile faded a little. “I guess it does, but I don’t know who put in the extra money.”
“Don’t listen to her, Alex. It’s yours!” Josh turned to me. “Why are you trying to make him feel bad?”
Everyone seemed to agree with Josh. What if I ruined my new friendships because I disagreed?
I took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” I said to Alex. “But maybe you could talk to Mr. Reed in the library about it.”
“Hey, guys,” Liz interrupted, “we’d better get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza!”
The group headed to the cafeteria, leaving Alex and me alone. Alex looked at the pencils and then at me.
“I think I want to talk to Mr. Reed,” Alex said. “Will you come with me?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We walked to the library, and Alex explained to Mr. Reed what had happened. Mr. Reed checked the vending machine where Alex got the pencils.
“There’s nothing wrong with the machine,” Mr. Reed said. “Someone must have put in money for two pencils but only turned the knob once. I don’t have a way to find out who did it, so you can keep the extra pencil. Thanks for being honest.”
As we left the library together, I worried that Alex would be mad at me for talking him into going to the library for nothing. We were halfway down the hall before Alex spoke.
“Thanks, Maya. I didn’t feel totally good about keeping the pencil, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I feel OK about it now.”
I was so relieved. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” I said.
“Mad?” Alex looked surprised. “Why would I be mad? I made my own choice. Thanks for going with me to see Mr. Reed.”
“No problem,” I answered. “I still need to get my lunch from my locker. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”
I grabbed my lunch from my locker and ran to the cafeteria. I was glad I’d spoken up and that everything turned out OK. I was smiling all the way to the cafeteria. Today felt like my lucky day too!

It was the day before a missionary conference for the Castile-La Mancha Zone in the Spain Madrid Mission. The mission president, Richard H. Winkel, spent the entire day organizing the conference program with his wife and two assistants, Elder Borchert and Elder Allen. So that nothing would detract from the spirit of the conference, they carefully planned each detail, including the schedule, the speakers, the hymns, and the special musical numbers. They also saw to temporal matters, such as preparing food for the missionaries’ lunch, which they planned to serve after the conference. Twenty-six missionaries were expected to attend.
On the day of the conference, which happened to be a holiday in Spain, everything went as planned. The meetings were very inspiring, and the missionaries’ testimonies of the work increased.
However, when President and Sister Winkel began to prepare lunch, they found that in spite of all the care they had taken, they had forgotten to bring the bread for the sandwiches! President Winkel did not want the missionaries to leave the conference hungry, so he gave his assistants a 5,000 peseta note and sent them to buy 26 rolls for the sandwiches.
Once outside, Elder Borchert and Elder Allen happened to find 100 pesetas on the ground (something that had never happened before in their almost two years in Spain). The elders had no way to locate the owner or return the money, so they set out with 5,100 pesetas to buy the rolls.
The two missionaries soon realized that because it was a holiday, all the grocery stores were closed. So they decided to buy bread from one of the many pubs on the main street of the city. They entered the first pub they saw and asked for 26 rolls. The owner told them he could spare only one roll. The elders bought the roll for 60 pesetas—and with 5,040 pesetas left, they headed for the next pub.
In the second pub, as in the first, the owner could sell only one roll. His price was 50 pesetas. The elders put all their money—the 40 pesetas and the 5,000 peseta note—on the counter. The owner did not have change for a 5,000 peseta note, so he let them take the roll for 40 pesetas.
With 5,000 pesetas and two rolls, the missionaries headed for the third pub and asked for 24 rolls. They placed their 5,000 pesetas on the counter. The owner of the establishment could sell them only one roll for 50 pesetas. But because he did not have any change, he allowed the missionaries to take it for free.
The elders entered the fourth pub with three rolls and 5,000 pesetas and asked for 23 rolls, again putting their 5,000 pesetas on the counter. Again the owner could let them have only one roll for 50 pesetas. And once again, because he did not have change for 5,000 pesetas, he let the missionaries take the roll for free.
The elders entered the fifth pub with four rolls and 5,000 pesetas. They asked for 22 rolls and put their 5,000 pesetas on the counter. The owner could sell only one roll for 50 pesetas, but because he did not have change for 5,000 pesetas, he permitted the missionaries to take one roll for free.
And so it continued. Some time later the missionaries returned to the meetinghouse with 26 rolls and the 5,000 peseta note they had when they left.
The experience reminded the missionaries of the time the Savior refused to let the multitude, who had gone three days without food, leave without sustenance. Jesus told His Apostles, “I will not send them away fasting, lest they faint in the way.” On that occasion, through the Savior’s power, “they did all eat, and were filled.” (See Matt. 15:32–38.)
This modern parallel cannot be compared in magnitude or power to the miracle of the loaves and fishes. But for a group of missionaries in Spain it was enough to remind them that, today as in ancient times, the Lord is aware of His disciples’ needs and will bless them with what they lack.

President Joseph F. Smith became an ardent defender of the faith on his first mission. On his second, he learned the importance of avoiding contention and proffering peace. In 1896 he described to his son Hyrum an incident that occurred during his mission to England in the early 1860s. “I was speaking, and I said that ‘the authority of the Apostles of today was the same as that held by the Apostles of Christ’s day, and that the word of the modern Apostles was as good as the word of the ancient Apostles.’ Somebody in the audience cried out ‘blasphemy!’ This was too much for my boyish temper to bear.”

The spirited young missionary argued fiercely with his opponent and “stirred up the emissaries of his Satanic Majesty until they were red-hot.” President Smith described learning “a good lesson” from his outburst. “Thereafter I moderated my fervor—became more diplomatic in the presence of a mixed crowd, and avoided showing any temper when reviled. In fact I learned to be reviled without reviling back again, to take an insult without retorting, except in meekness and gentlemanly candor.” He summarized, “I always tried to make my hearers feel that I and my associates were peacemakers, and lovers of peace and good will, that our mission was to pave, and not destroy, to build up and not tear down.”15

After Grandpa Giles died, there was arguing about how to operate the farm. Eventually the family business fell apart, and my family moved to Kaysville, Utah.
When I was 14, our family moved back to Manti. I had a bedroom upstairs, and my only window faced the Manti Temple. I spent a lot of nights looking at the temple, wondering what my future would hold.
When I was in my late teens, I began to think about serving a mission. By then, my father had died and my mother didn’t have very much money. I felt a lot of pressure to stay home and help my mother. Then one night I went up into the hayloft to think and pray. There I had a clear and strong impression: I needed to serve a mission.
That was the best decision I had ever made. It changed my life. Doctrine and Covenants 31:5 became a guide: “Therefore, thrust in your sickle with all your soul, and your sins are forgiven you, and … your family shall live.” I decided to trust that the Lord would take care of my family while I worked hard on my mission. And the Lord was faithful to His promise. My mother was well taken care of while I was away.
Boys and girls, if you do good things on your own, your parents will eventually praise you for it. In part because of my mission, my mother became active in the Church. Honoring your parents doesn’t always mean doing exactly what they do. It means doing what Heavenly Father wants you to do. Even if your mom and dad don’t go to church, you still can. Even if they don’t keep the Word of Wisdom, you still can. If you will stand on your own two feet and be good, you will bring great honor to your parents’ name.

I could not help noticing the lady in the seat across the aisle. She was looking around the bus with her eyes wide and glossy, her thin hands clasped together in front of her. She kept squinting out the window, shaking her wispy hair, and making a funny noise. She began fidgeting more and more, and I wondered if she was going to make a scene. I turned to the window, trying to ignore her, but curiosity made me look back again.
It was then that I saw tears in her eyes. I wondered if she might be in trouble. I wanted to help, but what if she did make a scene? I wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, I thought, I have to get to school on time, and my stop is coming up.
Then I looked over to where she was sitting and saw the fearful expression on her face. The next thing I knew, I stood up, crossed the aisle, and sat down beside her.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you need some help?”
Her eyes were wet and her hands were shaking. Her delicate face stared at me blankly, like a young child’s, so I asked her again, “Are you okay?”
She looked down at her green handbag and fumbled through it for a pen and a notebook. She began writing, “Have we left Ottawa? I think I took the wrong bus.”
I picked up the pen and wrote, “Are you deaf?” She responded with a nod. “Don’t worry,” I continued to write. “We’ll figure this out.”
My stop was coming up next, and I knew this would make me late, but I didn’t ring the bell. Instead, I approached the bus driver, who phoned the station for directions. I wrote the alternate route down for her, and the bus driver said he would ensure that she caught the connecting bus.
“What is your name?” I wrote quickly, before getting off at a stop quite a distance now from the school.
“Anna,” she scribbled. “Thank you. You are the friend I was praying for.” A calm smile spread across her face that made her hazel eyes sparkle. I could feel her love and appreciation. As I smiled back at her, I felt an understanding that bonded us together.
As the door swished behind me, and I waved good-bye, I could not believe that I had almost let Anna take that frightening journey alone. I ran all the way back to school with a smile on my face. I was glad I had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost telling me that someone else needed help.

While in Nauvoo, John worked as a carpenter on the temple. Called on a proselytizing mission to Canada, he and his missionary companion, James Park, started preaching in the small frontier community of Brooke, Kent County, Ontario. The gospel message was received enthusiastically, and in time 250 people were baptized.
The missionaries encouraged the new members to migrate to Nauvoo. Thus, in the spring of 1845, the new Saints prepared wagons and teams for the migration. The path leading out of their small town was little more than a sled trail, so the Saints started cutting trees and clearing a road. The enthusiasm of the new members to go to Nauvoo was so compelling that the improved trail became known as the Nauvoo Road, a name that persists even to this day.

Freddie worked his way up and down the wall. Mom preceded him, using the brush to do the trim work along the molding and ceiling and in the corners. One especially dark smudge on the wall caught Freddie’s attention. “This is a really bad mark, Mom,” said Freddie. “How did it get on the wall?”
Mom squinted, trying to remember. “I think you made that one. Remember how angry you and Brad got at each other last month?”
“I sure do. I called him a poor sport at the ball game, and he called me a baby. I came home so mad that I wanted to kick him.” Freddie frowned. “I kicked the wall, instead. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, and I felt bad about what I’d done.”
“And as I recall,” Mom added, “Brad came over later, and you two made up.”
“Well, we both said we were sorry. Besides, we couldn’t stay mad forever. That’s why Brad and I are best friends.” With one quick stroke, Freddie’s roller covered the ugly mark with wet paint.

I was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Nigeria along with my parents when I was 10 years old. As I got older, I began helping the local missionaries in their work. It stunned me that often without college degrees, these missionaries were able to speak to all kinds of people, and they did so with power, authority, and conviction, and without fear.
Their example helped me realize that I wanted to serve a mission, but I also wanted to get a higher education. I had difficulty getting admitted into college, so I applied and submitted my mission papers around the same time. My admission letter and mission call arrived on the same day. I knew I wanted to go to college, but I chose to serve the Lord by going on a mission first.
Even though it was a sacrifice, serving a mission was worth putting college on hold. I learned many valuable skills—things like self-discipline, focus, communication, leadership, and reliance on the Lord. And everything I learned helped me in my schooling later. I will never regret putting the Lord first.

When Russell got home from his mission he was excited to get a cell phone. He had used one before but without the games, cameras, and text messaging capabilities. On one of the first weekends after his return, he was asked to help out at a neighborhood garage sale. As people wandered among the various items spread out on the lawn, Russell played with his new cell phone and began texting a friend about how much he missed his mission. Suddenly, he noticed a lady who appeared a little confused as she looked at several of the items. He put his cell phone away and approached her. He soon discovered she was new in the area and spoke Spanish but little English. Having served in Spain, he delighted her by speaking Spanish. Before long, he had not only helped her pick out a few items, but he had also taken her name and address with the intent of sending the missionaries.

Russell says, “Here I was texting my friend about how much I missed my mission, and I almost let a missionary opportunity pass me by. When I put the cell phone away, I actually ended up getting a missionary referral. I was happy to have my new cell phone, and texting my friend was fun, but nothing made me happier than getting this referral for the missionaries.”

“I was strong in my belief that the Church was not true,” says Rosenelle.
But at Marco’s urging, Rosenelle continued to meet with the missionaries, never committing to baptism, but never completely rejecting the idea either.
“I never gave up,” says Marco. “I knew it would happen.”
And it did. While reading the Book of Mormon one afternoon, Rosenelle read about Alma the Younger. Soon she was thinking about her own life and the direction it was taking. She prayed for a long time that day and started to have some feelings that she couldn’t quite describe.
“Marco told me it was the Spirit,” says Rosenelle. “I knew he was right. I became converted and was baptized. I haven’t ever regretted it.”

More than a decade ago a major in the U.S. Air Force told of his test flights. He was born of goodly parents who taught him righteousness. He had flown 25 different types of military aircraft in 4,000 hours in the air. He had flown 142 combat missions in Korea and had received many distinguished medals. He told us that “before takeoff every pilot takes a few moments to make a last-minute check of his engine, flight controls, hydraulic and pneumatic systems and other essential subsystems of his aircraft to be sure the flight can at least begin safely. … His reactions to emergency conditions must be instinctive and as infallible as human thought and reflexes permit.

“… Yet, there is something missing on the printed checklist which to me has become as necessary to a successful flight as lowering the wheels for a smooth landing. It is a prayer to ask my Father in heaven to bless me that my best judgment and skill will guide my actions, especially in periods of stress. There have been several instances … in which I know the answer to this prayer has been received with dramatic suddenness. …”

The Pukalani Ward, Kahului Hawaii Stake, has an early-morning seminary class eagerly participating in a genealogy project. The nine students were given family group sheets with names extracted from a ward member’s genealogical sketch. After an introduction and instructions, the group filled out individual and marriage entry forms. The class submitted 57 names to be cleared for temple work. The youth enjoyed the actual hands-on experience of learning about genealogy.

A story is told of the son of King Louis XVI of France. As a young man, he was kidnapped by evil men when they dethroned the king. For six months he was exposed to every filthy and vile thing that life had to offer, yet he never buckled under the pressure. This puzzled his captors, and they asked him why he had such great moral strength. His reply was simple: “I cannot do what you ask, for I was born to be a king” (see Vaughn J. Featherstone, “The King’s Son,” New Era, Nov. 1975, 35). You were born to be daughters of a King. By being baptized, you have been promised the blessings of royalty as you sanctify yourselves and become holy.

My name is Emily. Do you know what I like best about being me? I like having lots of feelings inside me, and I like showing my feelings in lots of different ways.
Today I gave a talk about Jesus Christ in Primary. I felt scared. I showed I was scared when my voice cracked.
I felt peaceful, though, when I looked up and saw my father and mother smiling at me. I covered my mouth so that I wouldn’t laugh out loud when my big brother winked at me.
I felt happy when I told everyone that Jesus is my friend. I said, “Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, and I love them.”
I showed reverence when I walked to my seat with my arms folded. I closed my eyes and bowed my head when the closing prayer was given. I listened to the prayer and said amen at the end so that Father in Heaven knew I was praying too.
During sacrament meeting I sat still in my seat and thought about Jesus while the bread and water were being passed. I felt warm and calm and happy and peaceful. I felt the Holy Spirit inside my heart. I like that feeling best of all.

Parents need to be consistent and loving, taking into account each child’s unique nature and disposition; setting appropriate limits to acceptable behavior, including modest dress, clean language, and dignified appearance; and then allowing each child his or her needed autonomy. Children are better prepared for the inevitable day when they leave home if parents “teach them correct principles and they [learn to] govern themselves” (Joseph Smith, quoted by John Taylor in “The Organization of the Church,” Millennial Star 13, no. 22 [15 November 1851]: 339; James R. Clark, comp., Messages of the First Presidency, 6 vols. [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1966–75], 3:54; also see JD 10:57–58).

Helping children learn how to make decisions requires that parents give them a measure of autonomy, dependent on the age and maturity of the child and the situation at hand. Parents need to give children choices and should be prepared to appropriately adjust some rules, thus preparing children for real-world situations (see Hart, “Three Principles,” 59). To do this, parents must listen—really listen—to what their children are saying. They must know what is important to each child. I learned this lesson years ago from one of our daughters. She was only four or five at the time. She came into the room all excited. I was reading the newspaper, and she had something very much on her mind that was important to her. I was responding, “Yes. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.” All of a sudden the newspaper came crashing down under her two little hands. She grabbed my face between her hands so that she could look me right in the eye. This was a little four- or five-year-old teaching her father a great lesson: “Daddy, you’re not listening to me.” And she was right.

Parents, let’s listen and know what is important in the lives of our children. If we fail to listen, if we don’t try to understand their point of view, how can we expect them to come to us for guidance in making important decisions?

Julio Cesar Merlos of the Arlington Texas Stake writes: “I remember when my brothers and sisters and I were growing up. We were new members of the Church, and our family didn’t have many financial resources, but we had faith in the gospel. My father set the example for us by his scripture reading. For him, family home evening was an opportunity to teach us what he himself was learning.
“One of my father’s family home evening lessons really made an impression on me. That was the time he taught us about agency. I remember the words my father spoke: ‘I want to give you a piece of advice to remember for the rest of your lives. When you are tempted to disobey the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity or any other commandment of God, think about whom you are sinning against. Is it God, the Church, your parents, your family, or yourself? I want to tell you that the one you are sinning against the most is yourself.’
“As I grew up, tests came to me that were as serious as the ones my parents warned me about. I tried to remember the advice my father gave us that night. Twenty-five years after hearing my father’s counsel, it still fortifies me greatly and makes me stronger. Now my children are hearing the same advice from me.”

Last year, I was teaching an online class. My students were divided into teams that met once a week on Zoom to work through practice exercises together. In one group, I had a divorced mother later in her life who was learning to code to support her family. She was working alongside a young man who had recently graduated high school and was taking classes online because the social anxiety of going off to school was too much for him. He was better at computers than she was, but he wasn't quite as committed. They spent hours working together, and they actually made a great pair. One time, when I was visiting with her, she said, "Oh, don’t worry about him, we're going to get him through this.”

Later, I was talking with another student in a different class. He said, "You know, earlier this semester, when things were pretty tough, I was planning to just give up and drop the class, but my teammates wouldn't let me." He said they encouraged him to keep coming and working with them. And then, by the end of the semester, the concepts started clicking for him, and he found he was the one helping them.

What a beautiful example of the principle that when we serve others, we are often blessed even more than they are.

In 1915 President Joseph F. Smith asked Church members to have family home evening. My father said we would do what the President asked, and we held home evenings in our parlor.
We were miserable performers as children. We could do all kinds of things together while playing, but for one of us to try to sing a solo before the others was like asking ice cream to stay hard on the kitchen stove. In the beginning, we would laugh and make cute remarks about one another’s performance. But our parents persisted. We sang together. We prayed together. We listened quietly while Mother read Bible and Book of Mormon stories. Father told us stories out of his memory.
Out of those simple meetings in our home came something indescribable. Our love for our parents, brothers, and sisters was enhanced. Our love for the Lord increased. An appreciation for goodness grew in our hearts. I learned that wonderful things came about because our parents followed the counsel of the President of the Church.

By direct contrast, I can tell you about a ward member who grew up in a home where she didn’t feel safe and battled feelings of depression and worthlessness. When she received her patriarchal blessing, she asked herself, “Who is this person being talked about here? It isn’t me.” But over the years she has consulted that blessing to remind herself how Heavenly Father sees her. As her faith grew, she came to believe the promises in her blessing.