Gospel Story Finder

When Anna’s joy over her conversion wasn’t shared by friends and relatives and when she couldn’t persuade them to accept the gospel, she decided to emigrate to the United States with a group of Norwegian Saints intent on going to Zion. It was 1883, and in the fall of that year she arrived in Logan, Utah. She was determined that her family’s first obligation should be to Heavenly Father because of His many blessings to them. Her next obligation was to see that her boys received the best education possible.

Elder Walker was on assignment in Tonga when he met a couple whose lives exemplified faith and devotion. This couple was known for their unwavering obedience to the Lord, consistently prioritizing His work, even at the expense of their own health and personal needs.

As he got to know them, Elder Walker learned that the husband suffered from a heart condition that required surgery, an operation that would cost $24,000 and needed to be performed in Australia. The couple could not afford the procedure or the travel expenses, but thankfully, a family member in Australia offered financial help.

Soon after arriving in Australia for the surgery, however, the man felt a strong prompting to return home, even before the operation. Trusting this spiritual impression, he returned to Tonga, where he was soon called as the stake president. His sense of duty replaced any consideration for his own wellbeing, and he postponed addressing his health concerns to focus on serving the members of his stake.

Elder Walker counselled with the couple, urging them to prioritize the husband’s health so that the Lord could continue to bless him and use him to care for his family and his stake. Shortly after, the man was able to receive financial assistance and returned to Australia for health tests and medical advice.

Following some of these tests, Elder Walker received an intriguing message from a family member in Australia. The family member reported that during one scan, the technician noticed something unusual—something resembling a metal stent appeared exactly where the pain originated. When asked if the husband had undergone any surgery before, the family member assured the technician that he had not.

This unexpected finding was a sign of divine intervention, a miracle that allowed the husband to continue his service without needing the costly operation.

This experience left a lasting impression on Elder Walker, strengthening his testimony of the miracles that occur when we exercise faith and obey the promptings of the Holy Ghost. The humble couple’s willingness to sacrifice and trust in the Lord exemplifies the truth in 2 Nephi 27:23: "For behold, I am God; and I am a God of miracles; and I will show unto the world that I am the same yesterday, today, and forever; and I work not among the children of men save it be according to their faith."

Or, for another example, take the Second Ward girls who go to Monrovia Jr. High. A couple of years ago, Monya Baker, now 13, was the first Latter-day Saint ever to attend the school. She and Cay Parry, 14, the Mia Maid president, recalled the early days at Monrovia.
“At first it seemed like everybody was watching, judging the Church by me,” Monya said.
There were questions. “You can’t drink iced tea? Oh, you poor thing.” “Why are you dancing? Mormons can’t dance.” “Aren’t you the ones that don’t believe in Christ?” “Are you the religion that kisses snakes?”
But slowly, just by being themselves and holding to what’s right, Monya and Cay let people know they’re normal.
Some time after Monya broke the ice at Monrovia, several other Latter-day Saint families moved into the area. Now there are eleven Latter-day Saints attending the school, and it seems just about everybody knows who they are. This year, eight of eleven students in the school’s gifted program are LDS. Four of the members of the school’s math team are LDS. Several of the LDS students have advanced so far in their studies that they go over to the high school for some of their classes. Others have acted in community theater productions. There are LDS kids on the softball and volleyball teams. There’s one on the football team. Church members have been president of the student council, have won spelling bees and county science fairs, and, in short, have made themselves familiar to the student body.
“And no,” Cay laughed, “we’re not the ones who kiss snakes.”

In January this year, my wife, Anita, and I, visited Abaiang Island with the vice president of Kiribati and his wife. Church members prepared well to receive them. The vice president spoke very highly of the Church.

Whilst there I met four widowed service missionaries: Sister Turia Manraoi Kaiea, (75) widowed for 12 years; Sister Tiena Kiakia, (64) widowed for 10 years; Sister Bakate Tekarika, (63) widowed for nine years and Sister Tengabi Ioaa, (70) widowed 10 years ago.

These four senior citizens receive monthly government grants of AUD 200. They went to their stake president after deciding that they can utilise the money well if they serve missions. They were set apart and off they went to Abaiang, an outer island in North Tarawa. They help in ministering and teach the temple preparation courses at Abaiang units. President Mwemwenikeaki said, “These are faithful sisters who are leading by example in serving missions.”

Many years ago, I climbed to the top of Mt. Fuji in Japan. Because I was running late, I decided to go straight down the mountain and not take the trail. I aimed in the direction I thought would lead me back to my staring point. However, as it turned out, I was off by just a few degrees at the top of the mountain. By the time I reached the bottom, I was clear on the other side of the mountain. A small mistake of only a few feet at the top had led to a distance of many miles at the bottom. Likewise, good decisions in small matters can have a great positive impact. In DC section 64 verse 33, the Lord says, "Wherefore, be not weary in well-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great."

Get tough with yourself. President Spencer W. Kimball gave us a powerful example in a talk to the youth of Stockholm, Sweden. Describing his own boyhood, he said:

“As I was out alone, milking the cows, or putting up the hay, I had time to think. I mulled it over in my mind and made this decision: ‘I, Spencer Kimball, will never taste any form of liquor. I, Spencer Kimball, will never touch tobacco. I will never drink coffee, nor will I ever touch tea—not because I can explain why I shouldn’t, except that the Lord said not to.’ He said those things were an abomination. There are many other things that are, too, that are not in the Word of Wisdom. But I made up my mind.

“That’s the point I am trying to make. I made up my mind then, as a little boy: ‘I will never touch those things.’ And so, having made up my mind, it was easy to follow it, and I did not yield. There were many temptations that came along, but I did not even analyze it; I did not stop and measure it and say, ‘Well, shall I or shall I not?’ I always said to myself: ‘But I made up my mind I would not. Therefore, I do not.’

“I’m a little older than any of you here tonight, and I want to just say that I will soon go into another year and that I have never tasted tea, nor coffee, nor tobacco, nor liquor of any kind, nor drugs. Now that may sound very presumptuous and boasting to you, but I am only trying to make this point: that if every boy and girl—as he or she begins to grow a little more mature and becomes a little more independent of his friends and his family and all—if every boy and girl would make up his or her mind, ‘I will not yield,’ then no matter what the temptation is: ‘I made up my mind. That’s settled.’” (In Conference Report, Stockholm Sweden Area Conference, 1975, pp. 86–87.)

“As I was growing up in Provo, there was another boy my age in my grade at school. His name was Walt Hansen. He and I were great friends; there was a great bond between us. His family did not attend Church, but Walt came because of the influence of his friends who reached out to him. Years later he became a bishop in the Provo Sunset Ward, and I’ve often heard people say that Walt Hansen was the most kind and helpful bishop that they had ever known. I hope that you children will realize that you may be a good influence in the lives of your friends and help someone else discover the gospel.

One of my (many) pet peeves is when pedestrians take their sweet time on the crosswalk, texting and chatting on their phone. I sit in the car rolling my eyes and saying “really people?!” I find myself revving the engine, staring them down, and thinking not so good thoughts. My heart starts to race and I’m sitting there imagining myself (just like in the movies) following through on my negative thoughts. One day I made a choice to be patient, and if you know me well, you’ll know…It takes a miracle! On that morning, I prayed to Heavenly Father and literally asked for ‘more patience’. Bad idea! I have never in my life encountered so many challenges in one day. I was tested to the hilt on the very virtue that I had prayed for. I could only imagine Heavenly Father shaking his head saying, “You asked for it, girl!” Regardless of the challenges, on this particular day I decided that no matter what I was going to be nice, pardon others faults, blah, blah, blah. I also made a choice to be patient while waiting at the cross walk for God’s children to cross the street as they texted and chatted on their phones. As I sat there watching, and consciously making an effort to be empathetic and compassionate (believe me, it took every fiber of my being) I noticed my heart wasn’t racing and I felt calm.

Things were ok. When we remove our expectations of how our brothers and sisters should be – everything changes. When we choose to sing, and play the harmony melody, we choose to let God be the Mistral of our symphony. We choose to make our opus, His.

President McKay was prepared for this work and responsibility from his earliest childhood in Huntsville, where he was taught by the example of his parents that the Lord and His work were to come first in a person’s life. When he was eight years old, his two older sisters died, and a short time later, his father was called on a two-year mission to Scotland. Sister McKay was to give birth to a baby girl in ten days, the farm had to be run, and the young family needed to be fed. It was a time of testing and of sacrifice—and David learned much about faith and commitment. As his father climbed on his horse to leave, he lifted young David up into his arms, kissed him good-bye, and said, “David, take care of Mama and the family.” From that day forward, David O. McKay developed an exceptional sense of responsibility.

May I share with you a recently published letter to “Dear Abby” that seems to clinch a point in this area of vision and values.
“Dear Abby: Cold chills ran up my spine when I read the letter from the heartbroken mother, whose daughter, a nurse, was marrying an amputee. (He lost both his legs when he stepped on a mine in Vietnam.) The mother said her daughter was beautiful and could just as easily have married ‘a whole man.’ I am sure many people think my husband could have married ‘a whole woman’ instead of me. You see, when I was three I was shot with a .22 rifle. Thank God I am still alive, although my left side is paralyzed. I can walk and do most things other women can do. But best of all, a wonderful man thought I was ‘whole’ enough to marry. He is handsome, kind, and faithful, and he treats me like a queen. We’ve been happily married for ten years. I still can’t believe my good luck. Sign me, Freddy’s wife.”
“Dear Freddy’s Wife: It’s more than ‘luck.’ You must have a lot going for you. Congratulations.”
May I add my congratulations to you, too, Abby, for taking someone by the hand and giving her a lift.

But in the palm of my hand I hold another indelible reminder, a glaring scar, one which resulted from a different motive, an act not so pleasant to remember.
I recall—though not in exact detail—that when I was nine years of age my mother sent me with a glass bottle to a nearby store for some milk. She cautioned me, along with other instructions, “Please do not run, because it is dangerous while carrying a glass bottle in your hands.”
Now, what do you suppose I did? I did exactly what my mother told me not to do. I ran, and when I was almost home I stumbled. As I fell my hand landed on the bulk of the broken bottle, leaving a large gash. As a result, today I have a scar on my right hand, and each time I see it or touch it, it reminds me of the experience of a disobedient child.

Lucy Mack Smith, the Prophet’s mother, was born in New Hampshire. When Lucy was still in her teens, her sister Lovina died, which caused Lucy great grief. Her brother Stephen came for a visit and asked their father if Lucy could come to the town of Tunbridge, Vermont, and stay with his family for a while. They thought it would help Lucy recover from the grief over her beloved sister.

While visiting in Tunbridge, Lucy met a young man named Joseph Smith and married him. The marriage took place on 24 January 1796. Lucy was 20 years old and Joseph was 24 at the time. Together they would be the parents of Joseph Smith Jr., the man destined to restore the gospel of Jesus Christ, the very truth Lucy had been searching for most of her life.

The young couple, Lucy and Joseph Sr., had a small farm and ran the country store (illustrated above) in Tunbridge, a store that, although repaired and expanded, is still there today. While the Smiths lived in Tunbridge, the oldest children, Alvin and Hyrum, were born. The young family moved to a farm owned by Lucy’s father, outside Sharon, Vermont. The small cabin they built on that property sat on the boundary line between the towns of Sharon and South Royalton. The day after his son Joseph was born on 23 December 1805, Joseph Sr. walked into town and registered his birth in the town of Sharon. (See Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, ed. Preston Nibley [1958].)

In the spring of 1848 they set out for the valley of the Great Salt Lake. Joseph, then a nine-year-old boy, drove an ox team on that long and difficult journey.

One day while on that journey, one of their oxen suddenly stopped, dropped to its knees, and rolled over, apparently dying. Those who looked on declared the animal dead.

His mother searched through her belongings and found a bottle of consecrated oil. She asked the brethren to anoint and bless the oxen. They did so. Miraculously he came alive, gathered up his legs, rose to his full stature, and moved forward as if nothing had happened. (See Nibley, Presidents, 188.)

One Saturday my family went to a store. We noticed a man there who looked familiar. It was President Thomas S. Monson. When he saw us, he shook my hand and asked me how old I was. When I told him I was eight years old, he asked me if I had been baptized yet. I was so happy that I had made the decision to be baptized and could tell him, “Yes, I have.” He told me to make sure I planned for a mission later. I am thankful I got to shake President Monson’s hand and talk to him. I am thankful that I got baptized. I am planning to go on a mission when I am 19.Kyle M., age 8, Utah

When she was just 16 years old, Silvia Henriquez Allred, recently called as first counselor in the Relief Society general presidency, gained a love for Relief Society.
“Shortly after she was baptized, my mother was called as the Relief Society president in our branch in El Salvador,” Sister Allred explains. “She was overwhelmed, but my sister and I [who were also recent converts] told her, ‘It will be OK. The Lord will help you.’ And He did.”
As Sister Allred served as the Relief Society secretary alongside her mother, she was impressed by the opportunities that Relief Society offered in leadership, education, homemaking skills, and service—opportunities Sister Allred says are available “to every woman who embraces the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

Tommy’s mother also taught him how to love and serve others. Every Sunday before the Monson family ate dinner, Tommy’s mother prepared a plate of roast beef, potatoes, and gravy for Old Bob. Sometimes it also included Tommy’s mother’s famous ribbon cake with layers of pink, green, and white cake and chocolate frosting. Tommy’s job was to deliver the dinner to Old Bob.

At first Tommy did not understand why he couldn’t eat first and then take the plate over. But he never complained. He would run quickly down to Old Bob’s house, balancing the full plate. Then he would wait anxiously as Old Bob came slowly to the door.

The two would then trade plates—Bob’s clean plate from the previous Sunday and Tommy’s plate mounded with food. Then Bob would offer a dime as payment for the kindness.

Tommy’s answer was always the same: “I can’t accept the money. My mother would tan my hide.”

The old gentleman would pat Tommy’s blond hair and say, “My boy, you have a wonderful mother. Tell her thank you.” When Tommy reported the compliment from Old Bob back to his mother, her eyes glistened with tears.

“She hath done what she could”! What a succinct formula! A journalist once questioned Mother Teresa of Calcutta about her hopeless task of rescuing the destitute in that city. He said that, statistically speaking, she was accomplishing absolutely nothing. This remarkable little woman shot back that her work was about love, not statistics. Notwithstanding the staggering number beyond her reach, she said she could keep the commandment to love God and her neighbor by serving those within her reach with whatever resources she had. “What we do is nothing but a drop in the ocean,” she would say on another occasion. “But if we didn’t do it, the ocean would be one drop less [than it is].”9 Soberly, the journalist concluded that Christianity is obviously not a statistical endeavor. He reasoned that if there would be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over the ninety and nine who need no repentance, then apparently God is not overly preoccupied with percentages.10

Around Christmas of last year I visited the Wilberg Mine in Emery County where disaster had struck a few days earlier. The sheriff’s office was kind in letting our car through the barriers blocking the road, and we progressed up the hill where smoke was belching out of one of the entrances to the mine. We approached the area where a type of mission control was directing what needed to be done at that tragic time. As we were being brought up-to-date on the rescue efforts by the foreman, a short, but obviously powerful miner came up and started jerking on the foreman’s jacket.

“Send me back in, send me back in,” he demanded.

“No, no. You’ve been in enough. We must send someone else.”

“No, I want to go, I want to go,” he pled.

A man whose coal-dusted and greasy face was stained with tears wanted to be back where he might be able to save another’s life.

“Well, all right, but you must be second,” the foreman said.

“No, I want to be the lead man.”

That was the most dangerous position to be in. Finally, the foreman let him go. We watched that courageous, feisty little man going back into the mine with ropes and different equipment hanging from him. He had captured the love and respect of all of us. The other miners sat along the wall waiting for their turn, but they had been outmaneuvered by a man who had decided months or perhaps years earlier that if there ever was an opportunity for him to perhaps save another’s life, he wanted to be where the action was.

My home teacher Val Riggs was our bishop and later our stake president. He directed the local institute of religion. He was ready to retire and return to his home in Utah, USA, but he told me he wasn’t going to leave until I got married in the temple.
“Well, you’re going to be here forever,” I told him. “I don’t know if that’s ever going to happen.”
“Oh, yes, it’s going to happen,” he would reply.
He had faith in me and never gave up on me. He would even call me while I was working. I’m like, “President, I’m on the air!” And he would say, “My wife is making cookies. We’re coming over tonight!”
He stayed in Baton Rouge throughout my return to church and watched over my spiritual growth. When the recession hit in 2008, he was the first person I called.
“President Riggs,” I said, “I lost my job at the radio station!”
“Great!” he replied.
“Great?” I responded.
“You’re going to be OK,” he told me.
When I called my visiting teacher, she also said, “Great!”
Why were they excited that I had lost my job? Because whenever they would talk to me, they could hear my struggle. I had one foot in the Church and one foot in the world. Losing my job turned into a great blessing. It helped me get both feet in the Church.
I had been inactive. I had been in an abusive relationship. I had it really tough as a young person. I was praying for my life and trying to hold on.
People would say, “Oh, you get to meet celebrities, you get to travel, you get to do this, you get to do that.” But that wasn’t peace. That wasn’t success.
The Savior’s peace is like no other. Coming back to church is what gave me peace. Getting married in the temple is success. Having an eternal family is the life.
When the Lord has a plan, He has a plan, though it may not be your plan. After I lost my job, my eyes started to open and things changed for me. President Riggs stayed, and he watched over my growth. My testimony is really strong on ministering. It’s important not to give up on someone. Ministering is what brought me back.

As a young man, I thought, “Once I receive an assignment from the Lord, I will not turn to the right or to the left.” I had some good experiences as a result. For instance, one day while I was in business training, I had to go to a Church meeting, but I had a work responsibility related to the mail. Normally this responsibility would take me and the other trainees as much as an extra hour after our regular work hours. But I had to go to Hamburg on the 5:30 p.m. train to get to my Church meeting. I told the others of my dilemma, and they said to me, “Good luck. It is not going to happen.”
I said, “Sure it will, because this is an important meeting.” They shrugged their shoulders and said sarcastically, “Yeah sure—you and your faith. You think just because you are religious that everything is going to work out. That means that we would have to finish the mail by 10 minutes to 5:00. It has never happened.” I said, “Well, whatever happens will happen. But I need to be in Hamburg on time tonight.”
Now, believe it or not, for the first and only time in three years, everything was finished that day at 10 minutes to 5:00, and I made it to the train on time. This impressed my fellow trainees and opened the door for me to have some gospel conversations with them.